New Week...New Blogs

This is a Monday Morning PSA:

I'm just calling your attention to two new blogs, one of which has already gotten a mention but which deserves another! The new parody blog, Brothers and Sisters of Perpetual Discernment is off and running but more commenters could potentially help! (I'm guilty here myself...I've been lurking but not commenting.) So go on over and give the Brothers and Sisters a welcome! (And keep in mind that it's a parody...even as it carries notes of seriousness....so have fun!)

Secondly, this weekend I was informed of yet another local blog Ut Unum Sint, which could also use your attention and a big howdy!

I'm a Mother!

Today I celebrated my first Mother's Day.

Yes, really. And quite unexpected.

Last night, although I didn't get much sleep for some reason, I did have a few dreams and in one of them, I had a baby. Most of the details of the dream remain hidden from me, but I woke up with some sense of motherhood, of having a little one of my own, with both the joy and terror at the very idea.

I had to work today, more First Communions, and just before Mass one of my volunteers (a REALLY IMPORTANT one, an expert, without whom I would be lost) gave me a corsage and a rose. Before I could object she said, "I know you don't have children of your own, but we're all your children. You mother me!"

This, from a woman who could be my grandmother, and of course, who mothers ME all the time!

One of the teachers from the school, who really is a mother, also received a corsage from the volunteer, and she told me, "Well...you're a mother to the parents...!"

And yes, she's right. But I never considered this to be a day to celebrate spiritual motherhood, and I even have a hard time wrapping my mind around that concept. I don't feel like a mother, and yet, a great deal of my job is to serve as a mother somehow.

Then, at Mass, when Father gave the blessing for mothers, while priority was of course given to REAL mothers, he also mentioned spiritual motherhood, and I realized he was talking about people like me, and how blessed I really am to be in such a position. And how terrifying it is. Because such an idea comes with responsibilities. And yet, after this year of preparing the sacramental class, I have more understanding of why parents are so strict with their "firsts", and why it's so awful when they work so hard to plan something...and it goes wrong. Because the smallest details are important.

This weekend, with the First Communions, some things went wrong in the organization, someone wasn't listed who was supposed to be there, likely my error, possibly the parent's, and that just lead to a discovery of more problems. But the most important things worked out, the details that could work out did work out, and if it weren't for the women helping me who found it necessary to be my mothers today, I have no idea how it could have worked.

Father's homily today discussed the gifts of the Holy Spirit and how necessary all of us are to the Body of Christ. We all have gifts, we all have something to offer. And what a lesson, which comes home to me in so many different ways, especially today!

Even after Mass, many of the parents (most of whom know I do not have children) wished me a "Happy Mother's Day" and applied it to my children in the future.

They don't know that I'm considering religious life, or of course, that I may never get married and have my own. So in some ways I'm a little sad at that thought, almost like I'm betraying them. Yet, if I enter consecrated life, I WILL be a spiritual mother to countless children.

In some ways I'm sad; my own Mother isn't even asking my brother and I anymore when we're going to get married and give her grandchildren. And she really wants grandchildren, but I think she may be resigned to the fact they may never appear. This disappointing idea is not new to her.

My Mom came from a very large family and was the youngest when her mother died. She became a big sister when Grandpa remarried, so always knew the importance of family. When she herself got married, she wanted children so badly! But the doctor told her that she could never have children...she was completely brokenhearted.

Then Mom got pregnant with my brother, and then with me. My brother arrived into the world in 1972, and I arrived in 1974. No children for Mom, indeed! God always triumphs over the world's follies. Yet she still suffered; she was pregnant with me in 1973 when Roe v. Wade passed, and people would approach her in places like the grocery store and say to her, "People like you shouldn't have children!"

Why would anyone say anything so hurtful? Because Mom was born with only one hand. And she dared to become a mother.

My mother suffered greatly through that era and to bring me into the world, and she suffered unspeakably throughout my life.

Motherhood by necessity involves suffering. I don't feel deserving of the title today, especially considering my own mother.

I sure do hope that, before she leaves for eternity, that she will be assured of my status in this life, either married or safely within consecrated life (or at least well on the way towards one or the other!). But for now, I don't deserve the title to which she has given so much dignity. I can't compare to a real mother, and I don't want to. I'm not ready. But I'm willing to accept that one way or another, I'm in the wings.

Congratulations and THANK YOU to all of you Mothers out there! Know that when you think you are least appreciated, you are living out your most powerful moments. God Bless You!

Flying Shrimp with Saki

I just got home from our family's celebration of Mother's Day. We broke with tradition and took Mom to a Teppanyaki restaurant (also known as "Hibachi"). I've never had this particular experience. Although I've had sushi - the REAL stuff - before, I'd not had the teppanyaki show before. And it was wonderful.

For those who are not familiar with this, basically thy seat you around a grill, so you may be seated with another group of people to fill up the spots. First they serve a soup and salad, and then the chef comes and begins his show by doing fancy things with sharp objects and even eggs. Our chef tossed an egg into his hat. (We did not see it emerge as a rabbit.)

Anyway, the food was incredible, the show was great, and Mom was happy. I gotta say...there is NOTHING like having your dinner tossed into your mouth followed by saki.

Look Ma, no hands!

Actually, the chef missed my mouth both times but I managed to catch the morsel. However, my clothing now smells like soy, wasabi, and sesame seed oil.

And Mom is happy. It's always good to have a happy Mom. Especially considering she spent the evening voluntarily having food tossed in her general direction!

Pentecost!

This week I received an email from the Vocations Director of the community I'd like to visit (more formally, that is.) She just happened to send along my favorite prayer to the Holy Spirit, and so I also am sharing it with you:


St. Augustine's Prayer to the Holy Spirit

Breathe in me, O Holy Spirit, that my thoughts may all be holy. Act in me, O Holy Spirit, that my work, too, may be holy. Draw my heart, O Holy Spirit, that I love but what is holy. Strengthen me, O Holy Spirit, to defend all that is holy. Guard me, then, O Holy Spirit, that I always may be holy. Amen.

Have a blessed Pentecost!

I'm just a dandelion in the garden of Heaven

A few years ago, in May I was having a conversation with Our Lady and meditated upon the ideas presented by St. Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower. I determined that I will never be one of the great flowers in a bouquet, but rather, a dandelion. I am just a weed in the Garden of God, and here, I will fulfill my purpose.

On that particular day, I went to the Fatima Shrine at my parish, and I carried to the Blessed Mother a bouquet of dandelions...just like the ones I used to give my earthly Mother. And our dear Blessed Mother helped me to understand on that day that she, and the Lord, do not require great and beautiful gifts, just those given from the heart.

So I wrote this piece from my heart to yours, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary:

May, 2005:

When I was a little girl, dandelions - yes, dandelions - were a constant source of joy in the spring and summer months. From the time those dots of yellow appeared, to when the last wisp of cotton drifted away, I saw them as a promise from God.

We used to pick the dandelions and offer them to our Mom in bouquets, sometimes mixed with violets, and occasionally other wild flowers. Always, always, she exclaimed how pretty they were and thanked us for the offering before placing them carefully in water. Throughout the summer a certain little green vase was never without a bright yellow dandelion.
We used to hold them up to our chins to see if the yellow reflected back, indicating that we liked butter. My brother and I would find the cottony dandelions gone to seed and blow the cotton into one another’s faces, then laughing, scramble to pick yet more to continue the fun.

I remember sitting in a field and blowing on the cotton to watch the seeds release into the wind, drifting away gently on currents of air not able to be seen. In looking back, it was an exploration of nature and an understanding of the elements that surrounded us every day.

As my Mom used to put it, the appearance of dandelions marked a “promise of summer” and I think it was more so for her than it was for us for we as children hadn’t yet learned to worry about the future, but we lived in each and every moment. It was as we grew older that we began to recognize the signs of the arrival of spring, principal among them being the spots of yellow peppering the highways and byways, growing along the fence and appearing in the center of the yard.

I always considered the dandelion to be a flower, and found it endlessly fascinating there growing among the wild honeysuckle. There it was, a flower surrounded by asymmetrical leaves and sometimes-prickly thistles. I never understood why so many people were in a constant battle to wipe them out.

Upon entering adulthood, I began to see the dandelions as everyone else, finally swayed by the world around me to look at things with their eyes rather than my own. I no longer saw in them a promise, but rather as an annoyance, a nasty little weed that crowded out the pretty, slender green grass. Sure, they had their plac - in the ditches and wild fields, where all wild and uncontrolled plants should live unhindered.

I guess one could say that I had gone from the simple innocence of childhood to the hard cynicism of adulthood. That afternoon in May, I had a sort of epiphany and realized that this little creation by God is a parable to which we should all take heed.

Consider those little yellow dots on your lawn. Now, for just a moment, focus and remove all of your preconceived notions about what that thing is and look at it from the eyes of a child. Do you see the simple beauty in the yellow, and the tiny, dainty petals so opened to receive the sun and nourishment it needs? Do you notice that no matter what you do to cut it down, that little plant returns again and again, joyfully and audactiously soaking up the sun as though it actually belongs there?

Do you think that even for a moment you can see that beauty I used to see and am learning to see again? Can you appreciate the gift of that little flower, given sincerely by a child to a parent, even with the somewhat dubious accolade, "I picked this because it’s as pretty as you, Mommy”?

Do you think you would be insulted or do you see a deeper meaning here?

While out walking I contemplated these little yellow flowers and realized that I can still see the beauty. I can still appreciate that bright happy yellow amidst the flagrant and choking green leaves. But I see something more now. I see a metaphor, and I see God’s promise.

St. Therese of Lisieux, referred to as “the Little Flower” used the metaphor of the flower to describe herself. She looked around the Creation of God and realized that not everyone could be a lily or a rose, but some had to be the thistle and some had to have thorns because all serve their purpose by the will of the Lord. I have found her view to be not only practical, but also prophetic.

Look around you and see the bigger picture, but keep that little dandelion outside your door in mind. What do you see or perceive in others when you walk out that door and enter the world? Do you look for the faults in others, or do you see the beauty? Are you able to get over the sometimes “ugly” exterior to find the true heart and passion of another? Do you cut people down because you don’t see their value?

Or are you that dandelion? Do you feel that you are constantly being mowed and yet, somehow, you still find yourself back, smiling bravely even though you don’t see the value in yourself anymore?

Isn’t it possible that God sent this one insignificant weed as a reminder that the truth is not always apparent and sometimes we have to look for it and accept it? And sometimes, maybe we need to identify with the dandelion and see how she comes back again and again, no matter what happens. There is strength and cheerfulness there, a rebellion against the oppression of the world and the corrosion of the soil that supports. It seems that where the conditions are the most harsh, the dandelion thrives even more, a testament to the grace of God and the strength He lends to all of us.

I had lost that childhood view of the world, and that day, I got a glimpse of it again. I don’t want to see the weed anymore. Now, when I look out upon a field of dandelions, I see promises from God, bouquets of gifts from his heart to ours, and a sign of strength when life beats us down again and again. I hope I can take this little lesson I learned; that in what I sometimes perceive as a frustration, when viewed correctly, can be seen as a special promise from the God who loves us.

For myself, I learned long ago that I will never be a rose, a carnation, or even a violet. The lilies of the fields spoken of in scripture do not define me. But when I see the dandelion, I have come to understand that I am that dandelion and even today, I place that little weed in a little green vase as a testament to the God who gave me life, to praise and glorify Him in the most humble of ways and in the most insignificant perseverance. Would that we all fulfill God’s will for our lives, as does the dandelion.

New Blog on the Block!

Hey, all,

I discovered a new blog, the Brothers and Sisters of Perpetual Discernment, and they appear to be local. There's only a couple posts on there so far, and I'm not really sure what the blog is really about, but it looks interesting. Go check it out!

Temptations

It's a powerful scene in "Saving Private Ryan". Captain Miller is dying, leaning on a motorcycle, watching the oncoming Nazi tank. He can't move. There is no one to save him. But he won't stop fighting; his thousand-yard-stare takes in the tank and the surrounding destruction of ongoing battle, he raises his sidearm, a hangun, and fires. One shot. Then another. Then another. And another.

It does nothing. The tank keeps coming, unaffected. But Captain Miller is resolute, and he lifts his gun for the last time, the last round...and fires.

And the tank explodes. He is surprised and then sees the aircraft overhead, dropping the boms, realizing that it was the airstrike that saved him.

Fighting Temptation

We all struggle with temptations, and we all lose those battles. And every week, every month, every time we fall...we bring those battle wounds into Confession, trying to figure out how we can fight so hard and constantly lose. The same thing, over and over again. And we go back out, and we start shooting at tanks again, but that airstrike never arrives to save us.

And there's a reason for that.

During Lent, I read something, somewhere, about this very issue. And the author gave some GREAT advice which served to put this into perspective. He explained that people try to fight temptations on their own. They know they will come, they resist and resist and resist...and succomb to the temptation. Over and over again.

They failed to call for an airstrike.

It's that simple. They are shooting at tanks with a hand weapon and expecting the tank to stop.

We simply don't have the ability to fight them. When it comes to mortal sins, we're already wounded and that sin is the mortal blow. It's the tank. But we shouldn't wait until we're wounded to call for assistance. We should be calling as soon as we recognize the temptation and call it what it is.

But it's never too late...when we see that tank looming, we have to realize that we've already been beaten and we need help and we need to call for a radical airstrike. Because we can't possibly fight it. We can maybe hold something off, but we can't banish it.

The author did not use military imagery, so all of the above is my translation of what he said, and really, the movie just played into what he had to say. It made sense to me. We have to call for help, and we have to let Jesus handle those temptations and fight them off. That's what it means to lean on Him and to let our burdens go; give them into the Lord's hands and realize we are too weak and wounded to fight this battle. If we try, we will die.

The strike comes from above...not our own hands.

I've tried to put this into practice, and when recognizing a temptation, I named it, I gave it in prayer to Jesus and asked Him to take it away...and literally, over and over again, the temptation was banished. Not always...sometimes we learn lessons through our failures. We always have to be prepared for God's answer, and our free will is NEVER compromises....every sin remains a personal choice.

The Dream

This week I've really been struggling with some things, and that struggle continues. Prayer has been difficult and I haven't been able to focus. I usually pray the rosary en route to work, but this week I skipped it twice and never got to it later in the day. I've been praying Liturgy of the Hours (morning prayer) and even THAT has not held my attention, even in its newness.

I wouldn't call this "dryness", but rather, something else. And what's happening in my spiritual life is directly related to the other issues that I'm facing. Or not facing; however you look at it.

But I had a dream the other night, and I can't remember most of it, but I do remember the "impressions" and a conversation with someone unseen. In the dream, it was someone very much known to me, and I to her, or maybe him. I think there were a couple speakers, but I could not see their faces. We discussed theology, and we discussed the spiritual life and temptation.

One of the speakers was the Blessed Mother, and both she and the other speaker, a male (a Saint, although I don't know which) told me the same thing and explained in in depth. Yet they weren't lecturing...I was a direct participant in the conversation, as though we were dear friends sitting in a livingroom having coffee together.

I don't remember most of the dream or the conversation, and I don't remember the vocal quality of the people speaking to me. But I do remember the important nugget of advice I was given with regard to fighting temptation. The Blessed Mother told me that I was doing everything wrong, even though I knew better, and so she explained differently. She explained that I was still trying to fight all of my own battles, but I had to surrender...to Jesus. Because I didn't have to fight those battles as He could do it for me. She explained that what I had to remember was this: INVITE Jesus into the battle. Don't just hand him the problem and wash my hands, but ASK HIM to literally step in between me and the temptation. And then let him take over. I should invite Jesus into the sin so He can banish it, and invite Him into the pain, so He can heal it.

I understood, then, that until I really learn this, I'll keep going to Confession with the same old things, big and small, over and over again.

It was just a dream, and yet...it makes so much sense! Not just to ask Jesus to take this battle from me, but to ask Him to step into it WITH me...because He can't stand in front of me unless I invite Him into the battle.

It's about free will; we have to participate in the battle. We can't call in someone else and then walk away. We have to be present, too. Jesus will fight the battle, but if we're not engaged, no matter how many enemies He banishes, more will keep coming. We have to learn how to grow in virtue and moral strength in order to turn back the smaller attacks so as to avoid being wounded in the first place.

The advice from the dream just resonates with me....invite Jesus. Invite Jesus.

And the most striking thing; the message wasn't just to invite Jesus into the temptation and the sin, but more importantly...invite Jesus into the pain.

We are all bleeding...and only He can heal us. And it's our woundedness that compromises us in the first place. Invite Him.

He's the only one who can stop the oncoming tank.
*

CELIBACY!

Oh yes, I'm going there. And for those of you who may be sensitive, be advised that I'm going to speak very clearly (for once) and that I'm going to use terms that are not profane, but may be considered to be graphic. And I may become embarassed and remove this post because what I have to say is not an edification of a proud moment, but of some of my worst moments. And believe you me...I have even less respect for myself than you can EVER have for me in revealing these things.

Forgive me, my friends...it seems I'm going through a phase; a type of regression to my early blogging days during which I had a great number of cathartic posts which could be properly termed as "rants." So yes, this is perhaps another "rant." At the end, maybe we'll see.

I do not write out of anger, rather, I write out of exasperation, and out of offense to my very humanity and my dignity as a woman. Yet I believe I will be speaking for BOTH men and women who choose to live a life of celibacy and chastity.


DEFINITION OF TERMS

A very wise professor I had in college (Fr. Fabian), explained to us the importance of the definition of terms. Although at the time I was not well disposed to the vast majority of the lessons we covered in our class on Natural Law (ie Catholic Morality), I must say that his introductory session has stuck with me. As you see from a recent post, I consider terms and language to be extremely important. Life has bourne out his words and his wisdom.

Ever since that day, I've been able to see that people tend to argue from self-defined terms. And that is actually fine; we sometimes HAVE to define terms for ourselves, or at least our understanding of those terms. Even if our definitions are incorrect, if we explain what we mean to others, they are better able to understand and respond coherently. Everyone knows the story of the letter written by a woman describing a "WC", which to her was a bathroom, which she referred to as a "Water Closet." On the other end of the letter, however, the understanding of the abbreviation "WC" was "Wayside Chapel." I'm guessing the story is urban legend, yet it still contains truth.

SO! To avoid the "WC" debate, let me first say what this is about:

Celibacy: Abstinence from sexual union.

Chastity: The virtue that moderates the sexual appetite. It applies to married couples as well as celibates. Chastity involves a correct use of our gift of sexuality, in keeping with our dignity as human beings.

MOVING ON...

Now that the requisite definitions are out of the way, let's discuss celibacy. I am a single woman, and I am celibate. In other words, no, I'm not having sex. With anyone. (And by the way, that includes myself. Masturbation is not coherent with a celibate lifestyle.)

This choice to be celibate in my single state stems from a few things:

1. Morality (Yes, Catholic morality, otherwise referred to as "Natural Law", in part.)
2. Experience (I'm ashamed of this)
3. I've never met a man worth that gift. (Period.)

1. Morality

The Catholic Church gives us a very coherent stand on sexual morality. No, it is not "Victorian", nor is it detrimental to our psyche. As Catholics, we LOVE sex! Truly! Have you ever joked about the size of Catholic families? Of COURSE you have! It's stock comedy for anyone poking fun at Catholics! Have you ever looked at a large family and brazenly asked the woman with all the children including the one on the way, "Are you Catholic?" Of COURSE you have!

So I ask...are you suggesting that they don't know how they GOT all those wonderful children?

And yet...you turn around and complain that Catholics think sex is wrong.

REALLY?!

I think you got it backwards...Catholics LOVE sex, and that is evident in the numbers of children produced by such blessed couples. Those couples love each other SO MUCH that they are willing to give themselves COMPLETELY to one another, without a distrustful barrier of latex or chemicals between them. And guess what? That's ALSO referred to as "chastity."


2.Experience

Let's just say that I can't take it back. I remember the moment and the devastation will never leave me. Ever. No, he wasn't worth it. Nor were those who followed. Not a single one was worth it. I'd die to get my viginity back.

Let's just say that I exercised "choice" and my "choice" was based upon a false premise, which I recognized as wrong even as I went ahead with it. And let's just say that I believed in love and marriage and forever...and he didn't. And I let him manipulate me. And all I was to him was an object.

And let's just say that ultimately, the man I thought I was going to marry wasn't interested in marrying me.

I have ALWAYS been interested in "forever." Unfortunately, most of the guys I knew then were only interested in "right now."

Thankfully, the notches in my bra are few but they were enough to destroy my soul and affect me for life. I STILL, to this day, feel that I'll never be really "PURE" even though I've gone to Confession, even though I've embraced a life of chastity consistent with being single. But I can't take back what I freely chose.

3. Who is worth THIS?

Several years ago, in my mid-20's (I can't believe I'm calling that "several years"), I was out nearly every weekend, "clubbing" with my friends. And we wore our short skirts and tight tops. My dearest friend at the time was prone to meeting her boyfriends in such places. I was never really interested in meeting guys in bars. Certainly, I was looking, but most of the guys I met were just not up to par.

Mind you, I was not a practicing Catholic at the time. I was a secular party girl. And sometimes we went to house parties, and sometimes we hosted the house party. And I had no end of potential suitors. My attitude staved them off, however. I was not looking for meaningless sex; I was looking for a husband.

Downtown Minneapolis is NOT the place to find a husband. And I knew it. So while I had a good time, I remained aloof.

Yet my friend went through boyfriend after boyfriend. I remember one particular night, we met a group of cute guys. And they were decent. One of them was really obviously interested in me and I rewarded him with my attention, but the poor boy shared no interests with me, and getting him to talk was like pulling teeth. I realized immediately that this was going nowhere. Sure, he was a nice guy, and I legitimately liked all of them, even as I got to know them better. But the one in question had no depth...no husband material there.

My friend berated me some time later, referring to that night and that group, "You never give anyone a chance!"

She herself had dated their "leader" for a few months. That didn't go far. The problem was that she gave nearly EVERYONE a chance...and never found success.

I didn't want to live her life and her disasters.

That pretty much sums up those years.

THE HAPPINESS OF CELIBACY

Recently I took the Spiritual Gifts test through the Siena Institute, and "Celibacy" was not one of my gifts. I think it was partially because of how the questions were worded; it had to do with "fulfillment".

I don't think "celibacy" fulfills me, but I will say that it's an important part of my life and I'm more fulfilled by being celibate than through sleeping with every cute guy who happens to get my attention.

In fact, I'm happier this way. There is nothing to offend my dignity. I'm not asked to be an object; the one thing that I've learned that is being an object of someone else's pleasure is NOT dignified. It's demeaning.

When I lived in Mexico, I was once hit on by two guys...at the same time! And when I refused their...uh...advances, they asked me, "What's wrong? Are you a lesbian?"

WHAT?!

And in the past, the boyfriend I wanted to marry told me that if I hadn't acquiesced to him, he would have thought that I didn't love HIM...never mind that he NEVER loved me.

A few years ago, when I had a fairly intense period of realizing I might be called to religious life, a co-worker, also Catholic, (but not living a very Catholic life) learned about my discernment. Her very first question:

"What about sex? Won't you miss sex?"

I understood where she was coming from ,although I'd never lived that life as she did. This was a woman who'd had a couple children via a couple of illicit unions. Don't get me wrong; she was a wonderful mother, and she was young. And God bless her, she gave birth to her children! She was EXTREMELY pro-life!

She could not live without her children; and she thought she could not live without sex.

Like many, she thinks that sex is not optional. She's been fed the pop-psychology that sexual pleasure even for its own sake is NECESSARY for mental well-being. She couldn't even FATHOM that someone out there could actually CHOOSE not to have sex.


WHY I'M OFFENDED

I was not offended by my friend's question; I was offended by the ideology she embraced.

I've been offended over the years that every time I said "No", my sexual orientation was questioned, my mental faculties were questioned, and my religion was slandered.

I've been offended that EVERY TIME I said "no" to a man, that he made it about HIM and used that to demean ME.

I'm offended that even the men who are supposed to be men are drama queens.

I'm offended that people think that celibacy is a forced condition! People assume that those who are celibate really have no choice and must be trolls or disfigured in some way. For the record; I'm not a troll. I think my history speaks to that.

I'm offended that people would DARE to suggest that the refusal of sex results from the alleged oppression of some authority!

I'm offended that people think that celibacy causes unhappiness!

I am absolutely THRILLED that I am celibate and striving to live a life of chastity. I look over my years of error and angst, and realize that all that suffering was for no purpose. It didn't win me a husband, and in fact, it made me feel less than human.

Right now, I know that I am a child of God. I know what my femininity is for. I am no one's object of entertainment. My life is worth more than that. My body is worth more than that.

And I'd rather die that live that lie again.

I know what freedom is, and the name of freedom is Chastity.

Life!

Spring has been slowly creeping in. For a few days, there has been a light gauze of green, and I think one of my sunflowers is just peeking out of the ground. I also found the need to get out my annual spider spray to keep the large predators that inhabit my exterior walls at bay BEFORE they have a chance to move in and call my siding "home."

And this morning I woke up, looked out the window and it's like the tree in the yard BURST into leaf literally overnight! It's beautiful to see spring finally coming into being.

AND ANOTHER THING!

I went to visit Cathy this morning to see if she has any new rants, and what do I find out, but that "40 is the new 30!" And that means....it's her BIRTHDAY!

So go on over and wish Cathy the Recovering Dissident a good one!

I'd send her lilacs (it's one of my favorite flowers, don't know if it's hers) but the bush isn't in bloom yet. So I'm sending her all of YOU instead!

"Taking" Communion

OK, time for another rant. This is one of my holy pet peeves, and it's not one I'm willing to just push aside. This is a battle that NEEDS to be chosen!

I CONTINUE to read/hear the term "take communion" (in exactly those words and lower case letters) even from people who ought to know better. And I cringe a LOT more when I hear that demonic phrase emitted from the mouths of those who otherwise have reverence for the Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.

And right now, some of you are wondering what kind of problem I have with this phrase, and you're REALLY questioning the choice of terms used in the preceeding paragraph with regard to the residents of that hot and bereft place we like to use to refer to the domain of Satan.

I chose that word very deliberately. Demonic it is.

Since you have those questions, then please allow me to instruct you as to why the phrase "take communion" is both demonic and irreverent and completely ignorant.

First of all, let's look at the theology; we all agree that the sacrifice of Jesus Christ is unmerited; meaning that there is NOTHING we can do to warrant the torturous death Jesus suffered for us preceeding to and upon the Cross.

If we can't merit it, we can't "take" it.

We didn't grab God out of Heaven and make Him a scapegoat. When we say that we "take" Holy Communion, we are saying just that.

Even further...

When you "take" a class, you pay for it, you sign up, and you aggressively go after it. You know what you need, or what you THINK you need, you put your heart and soul into it (if you're smart and frugal) and onstensibly, if you succeed in taking the class, you also complete it. Logically, then, you can't "take" a class that has already been completed and then participate in it half-assed and according to your whim and expect to get a grade.

Do you think Jesus was so illogical to think that you could take Him as you do a class at the local community college?

Language is important...and it betrays a lot, doesn't it?

We don't "take" Jesus in Holy Communion. On Sunday or at Daily Mass, we do not "take" Communion!

We CANNOT "take" Holy Communion!

When we "take" something, it tends to imply that it is either something that we've aspired to on our own or something we've conquered. For some random uses of this: In a romance novel, a man who overcomes a woman's virginity "takes" her. Or in battle, a General "takes" Dresden. Or the Muslims "take" Constantinople. (Which is why it's now called "Istanbul" and why the Hagia Sophia was plundered and made into a Mosque.)

So...when you are saying that you "take" Communion are you planning on conquering Christ?

Sadly, this term is used far too often, leading me to believe that it is the predominant term for teaching children and young people, even adults. And my friends, language is powerful. Words matter. They are used with subtlety, and in the end, if we do not pay attention, we are put into the position of conquering Christ...instead of the position of receiving the benefit of the conquest of Christ.

We do NOT "take" Communion!

I don't remember how old I was, but I remember using that term as a child, maybe as a teen. Or maybe my brother made that mistake. In any case, I never forgot the message. Mom immediately reacted; the first part of her reaction was outright SHOCK. "We do not "TAKE" Communion!" After that, her tone softened somewhat. Her tone always softened when speaking of Jesus. "We "RECEIVE" Him. He gives Himself to us. We can ONLY receive Him. We can't take what He hasn't offered."

I'm not entirely sure those were Mom's exact words. But that was her message, and even in my years of dissent, it's something I never forgot. Even as I went up for Communion on those few occasions when I attended Mass, even as I knew I was in mortal sin (another of Mom's lessons that wouldn't go away), I never had the attitude of "taking" Christ. Every time I went forward, I knew I was "receiving".


It's not the same thing. At all. And I think it's that attitude in part that disposed me to conversion, for the words alone kept a certain type of Pride at bay; the Pride that told me I was "entitled".

Each time I received our Lord in Holy Communion in those years, I wept. Because I knew, fundamentally, that I could not "take" what I was not offered.

Thanks, Mom.

Look at the words: I've already discussed "taking", and the aggressive tone of the language and intent behind it. "Taking" ALWAYS has an intent. Sure, we can take what is offered to us, but our actual action upon the "taking" means we have intent. It implies aggression of a sort, and at the least, assertion of a right to something.

Do you "take" an award, or do you "accept" it?

It's a similar juxtaposition.

So apply that to the Holy Sacrifice of the Cross....

Do we "take" Jesus...or do we RECEIVE His gift to us? Does He not offer Himself to us through the Blessed Sacrament?

We can't take what hasn't been offered. To do so is an attack.

At each Mass, we are called to an examination of conscience; are we free to ACCEPT the offering? Or by going forward, do we TAKE something to which we have no RIGHT?

We, as Catholics, have no RIGHT to the Sacraments per se...unless we are disposed to receive them. Yet some have been raised with a sense of pre-eminence, of entitlement, and in fact...too many have this attitude! The Sacraments are not a RIGHT...they are a PRIVILEGE! We MUST have the proper disposition in order to receive those Sacraments! We have to KNOW what we are receiving and we must ASK for that reception!

It's not automatic because we've slapped a label upon ourselves and called it good.

We have to discern whether we are able to receive the Sacraments.

Note the language: receive. That word is used repeatedly with reference to the Sacraments. We receive them.

That implies humility; reception only occurs if we are OPEN to something. Our Lord is the Bridegroom. We, ALL of the Catholic faithful, are the Bride. And what is the Bride? Receptive. She receives. The Bridegroom gives. But never by force. And the Bride never "takes".

When we go forward for Holy Communion, we approach Christ Himself and ask for union...and He GIVES that union. We cannot take it. If we are in a state of mortal sin, we receive nothing. There are no graces. There is only condemnation. But if we approach with the proper disposition of grace and humility, we receive in accordace to those gifts.

We don't take God...we receive Him. It is a free-will offering, and a free-will acceptance. End of story.

Please stop "taking" Christ in Holy Communion. Discern. Be receptive, both to Him and to abstaining.

No marriage ever works without some self control. How can we expect to receive Grace if we don't even have the proper love for our Lord in our hearts? How is that a marriage?
*

PETA must be a centipede

Because...How in the world can PETA continue walking around when all they can do is chew off their own feet by such public asininity? They must have a lot of feet!





I just heard their latest hysteria on the news: They want to condemn the jockey who rode Eight Belles on Saturday, claiming that she "must have" been injured and the jockey "should have" pulled her out of the race.

OK, first thing's first:

1. They have not determined what caused the breaks to happen AFTER the race had ended, and it's possible no ruling will ever be made on that.

2. Jockeys are inherently sensitive to their mounts, and even if they were driving for the wire, lengths in front, a jockey will pull a mount up rather than drive him or her forward in the interest of saving said jockey's own future, if not for the horse itself. That horse is bread to a jockey and they tend to err on the side of caution. Get a grip.

3. Jockeys are convenient targets, aren't they? They don't swim in oil money and they don't tend to be Muslim Sheiks (who happen to own the vast majority of racing everywhere, throughout the world, thanks to said oil money.)

4. Jockeys are the little guys of racing...PETA would spend their time better pleading for the plight of jockeys than the ignorant missives they dedicate themselves to on national news.

5. There's a really good chance that the break happened because of a genetic condition that could not be assessed or determined because its a new gene mutation. Good luck proving the jockey screwed up....your better case would be to get the genetic records and launch a case study and commandeer an equine research facility to determine the cause of this catastrophe. Oh...right...that's why you're going after the jockey. Easier and more dramatic.


I didn't think it was possible, but now I have even LESS respect for PETA. I put them right down there with the ACLU...got no respect for them, either.

First Day on the Job

Just yesterday, I received an invitation to an interview with a local county, the position of "Intermittent Probation Officer." I am hoping this is the answer to my prayers as to what I am to do for money this summer, and considering the job has brought back memories of the work I did during my colllege years.

Just after my freshman year of college, I began a job at an adolescent psych hospital as a "Care Worker". My job was to work on whatever unit I was assigned, either as a "floater" between units or as a gofer for one, or possibly as the unit staff for the day/evening.

When I began, our first week involved, as you'd expect...paperwork. We sat in a classroom, learned about procedures, behavior plans, treatment plans, how to deal with lots of things, and of course, State-mandated things. Our group was a mix of new therapists, maintenance, security, and careworkers.

But during that week, we went on a tour of the facility. We were warned about certain residents...they liked to torture new staff and would do things for shock value, to test us. We had to figure out how to respond, and our response on that occasion might well determine the respect they would or would not have for us going forward.

Nice. But it was what it was...we knew we had entered the world of the Cuckoo's Nest.

THE WELCOMING COMMITTEE

So it set the stage for me to be singled out by the "Welcoming Committee". Jennifer saw our group coming and came forward from her spot at a picnic table outside the dorms, confronting the HR guy. He explained we were new employees. She appraised our group as we continued, and stepped directly in front of me, forcing me to stop. She reached toward me and began running her hands through my hair.

I was a bit taken aback, but we'd been warned about her, and I knew that reacting would be a bad thing. She only wanted to know what I would do. I knew her supervision level so decided that she was just going for that fabled "shock value" and stood my ground. When I didn't react she let me go after a short stare-down contest.

But that wasn't the last time I was to meet her..that particular patient was destined to be a special one for me.

The Real First Day

They always told us to be certain to bring a change of clothing to work, for we never knew what would happen or what kinds of things would end up covering us. It was best to be prepared. And so I was.

After our first classroom week, we were assigned to someone or a few people to train us in for the duration of two weeks. I learned how the unit was run, I learned the work of a "floater" and what to do on a crisis team; most floaters were assigned to a crisis team, which had two levels of response. The teams were called in on an emergency basis whenever extra hands were needed either to deal with a patient out of control or maybe several patients in need of additional direction.

But...my first day on the job, on my own, I was assigned to Peter. He was about 12, I think, a small 12 year old who had ADHD in the most extreme form. And that boy was not able to take medication for his condition due to another physical condition; all the treatments for ADHD would have killed him. It was fascinating; he was constantly moving or talking. When I first met him, he was being held down by a crisis team. This boy was assigned a "one to one" staff, not as in the sense for suicidal kids, but rather to protect him from himself and from other kids he ticked off regularly through his uncontrollable behavior.

I remember going into his room with him on his "time out" when he was released, and he had a pair of jeans in his hand. He flipped the jeans back and forth, constantly, talking a mile a minute. I remained silent, watching in amazement...I felt like I'd been transported into a psychiatric case study of ADHD, but I was watching the unedited video from the freeform "interview".

After awhile, the manager came in and said that he could go out to the pool if he wanted (they did everything they could to keep this kid busy.)

Well, Peter had been at the facility for a few years by that point, and he led me to the pool, wearing his trunks and t-shirt, flinging his towel back and forth just as he'd flung his jeans only a half hour before.

THE POOL

At the time, I was a certified Lifeguard, and had just completed my refresher the previous month. I felt pretty comfortable, as it were, taking Peter to the pool area. There was a rec staff, who was also a Lifeguard, on duty whenever the pool was open. We acknowledged each other, but Peter was my responsiblity so I followed him to the outdoor shower, he rinsed off obediently as he knew to do, set down his towel, and headed for the edge of the pool.

SILLY ME! There I was, with my charge, knowing that he KNEW the dimensions of the pool, trusting that he'd go to wherever he knew he could swim. So when he headed for the deep end, I thought nothing of it...that's what I do, too, and what many of the kids did.

It was a very warm day that June, and indeed, the pool was full of enthusiastic kids.

And then Peter jumped in and went under. And came up.

I had been a lifeguard for a few years by that point, and under my stand at the pool where I worked, kids just LOVED to pretend they were drowning. I had learned very quickly not to react immediately, but to watch...it was extremely obvious that they weren't really drowning. Because even if the kid was convincing enough, his or her (mostly his) friends weren't reacting properly, and their faking would get a quick reprimand from me to restrict themselves to the shallow end if they couldn't swim. So their faking always backfired on them.

But Peter..that was different. He came up...and flailed...and went under...and he came up again. I realized in shock that he really couldn't swim! That expression of terror cannot be contrived...the boy couldn't breathe!

I glanced around, having neglected to take proper assessment of this pool and where things were located. The hook was a distance away..I had nothing handy. I saw where Peter was in relation to the side, and felt that, as he was my responsiblity, I had to save him.

I didn't even yell for the lifeguard, who, at this point, did not see what was happening.

I didn't even take off my shoes...I jumped into the water, fully clothed (wearing jeans, nonetheless).

I had leapt out toward Peter, thinking to just grab onto the side and pull him in, but I had misjudged the distance. Peter was further out than my two-arms'-lengths and I couldn't reach the side by a couple of feet.

But I had hold of him and as I treaded water, I pulled him up. Of course he grabbed my arm and climed up it, seeking to get on top of me, panicking and terrified. As soon as he did that, I swam for the side, but he was pulling me down.

I had WAY underestimated the strength of this boy! It was all I could do to keep my head above water, and I couldn't disengage from him unless I dropped and went to the bottom...but I feared he would come with me.

Peter had a deathgrip on my left arm and shoulder...with my right arm, I flailed, reaching, kicking mightily to pull us BOTH to the side of the pool which shouldn't have been so far away!

Then I felt someone grab my hand and pull us in. I felt the weight on my left lift as Peter was also put in touch with the side of the pool, and he let go of me in favor of the solid, immovable contact.

I took a deep breath, thanking the 16 year old patient who had saved us, then launched myself out of the pool. I was soaked...my jeans were dripping, my shoes were squishing, my glasses (I didn't have contacts at the time) were dripping with water and I was thankful to have them...but, friends and neighbors...my bangs DID NOT GET WET!

STAGE CUE: APPLAUSE

One of the other teen patients was helping Peter out of the pool, a few of the kids were literally applauding, and then I looked up to see...none other than...Jennifer.

Yup. The hair girl. The Welcoming Committee.

But this time was different. This girl, maybe 15 or 16 or so (I was 18 at the time) walked up to me, hugged me, and gave me her towel so I could squeeze some of the water out of my hair and wipe my face and glasses.

"Thank you." she said.

I hadn't saved her, and her "thanks" confused me. But I came to understand it upon reflection.

TRUST

In training, they emphasized the value of trust; the kids had to trust us. They needed to know that we would keep them safe. Most of them had been abused, most very severely in all ways one can imagine and in some ways that defy imagination. They needed consistency, and they needed to learn to trust. If we could show them that we would, in fact, keep them safe, they would learn a great deal more and accept our leadership on the basis of trust. Trust went a long ways with these kids...and betrayal of trust was the worst that could happen. We had to be honest, we had to set clear boundaries, and in all that, we had to be consistent for it was mostly consistency that built trust.

And apparently, the occasional extraordinary incident.

At the pool that day, after I could see again and all was well, I had a little chat with Peter. (In the meantime, Jennifer and other patients were berating the Lifeguard, who hadn't even bothered to get up out of her lawnchair. Seriously. It may be a sin, but I didn't once try to stop those kids...they were right in their accusations and I figured that as I had to spend time fighting for two lives and it took the Patients to save us, she could battle for her own reputation. Besides...Peter was more important than an incompetant lifeguard.)

Peter admitted that he couldn't swim and had just not been paying attention. He wanted to continue swimming, he was fine, and would meekly stay in the shallow end. Fine. And I watched him like a hawk.

And then the Manager that evening happened to wander up to the pool to see how I was doing on my first solo day. Imagine his surprise when he saw me, standing at the side, dripping, my clothing clinging to me. He approached warily, somewhat amused, curious, and taken abak. I explained what had happened, and he asked if I had a change of clothing?

Yes, I did. He asked why I hadn't called for a replacement so I could change? I didn't know.

I had removed my radio when I jumped into the pool...it was a warm day so I wasn't chilled, and figured that when Peter wasn't my charge anymore I could change then. After all...I wasn't sure what would happen if I destroyed my second set of clothing while guarding this kid!


Finale

That day turned out to be an important one. As a Lifeguard, I broke EVERY RULE by jumping in to save Peter. In my defense though, I thought he was closer to the edge and it would be the quickest way to bring him in. And as I was a swimmer, getting wet wasn't a problem for me.

I was, ironically, reprimanded by the on-duty Lifeguard for that day, about a week later. She happened to be one of the managers for the Recreation department at the hospital, and decided to tell me everything I'd done wrong. I didn't disagree...she was objectively correct. Although I still question her lack of reaction. She literally didn't do a THING to help us. Granted, events like that tend to happen quickly, but she didn't even walk over to me when it was over to "process" the event. ("Process" is a huge word in psychology. Nothing should EVER happen without "Processing" it.)

Even though I did the technically wrong thing, it turned out to be the right thing to do. Sure, I got wet. Sure, I almost drowned with the boy I was trying to save, through my own misjudgment. But other things happened. Do I have to spell them out?

First, WE were saved by patients at that facility. Those we were there to serve, saved me and then my charge. That's a moment of humility. In that moment, those kids (I know there was more than one that pulled us to the side although I only clearly remember one) didn't care that I was Staff or that Peter was a pain in their derriers'...they saw an emergency and reacted because it was the right thing to do.

Secondly, Jennifer, the "Welcoming Committee" was present and a direct witness, and the one to present me with a hug and a towel. I was later to learn that this girl was one of those most in need of a sign of trust. She was "on her way out" towards a real life outside the walls, but had been severly abused...my willingness to jump into the water on my very first day as a fledgling was apparently very meaningful to her. She became one of my strongest allies. And never tried a "shock effect" on me again. In fact...every chance she got, she defended me.

I pray she is doing well.

My point is this: We can be trained. We can know the correct sequence, and we can know the proper procedures. But no one, not even we ourselves, know how we'll react in a given situation. Sometimes we go overboard and our actions are stupid and disastrous. Sometimes we go overboard and our actions are exactly correct. Or maybe it's just that God takes our actions and brings blessings out of them.

It's never about the events themselves. It's about what God draws out of the events. It's been awhile since I've thought back to that day, and althogh it was a tough one, I remember it with fondness, and remember the real names of all the patients involved. I loved my work there, I loved the kids, and even though I was only a couple years older than they, let me tell you, they were "my kids"! And you know...I think they still are.

We never know what's coming our way, we never know who we will affect or how, or how our own mistakes turn out to be...not mistakes. Just as those kids need to learn trust, so do we all need to learn to trust.

We are really not so different, are we?
*

First Communion Season

Tonight (Saturday evening) was the first round of First Communions, and I was TERRIFIED! I knew that I had volunteers at the church, which was wonderful because I had my Adoration hour today and still left early so as to get to the church by about 4:30. As soon as I got to my office, I saw I had messages so checked them to be sure it wasn't something important.

One was not. The other...was from my main volunteer. She does this every year, she is an expert, and the expectation set was that she was going to show me how this was done. I had everything in place, but as you know...what happens on paper does not necessarily pan out in action. I was clueless. That made me terrified.

But that's OK...I prayed my desperate rosary en route from adoration to the Church, keeping the Wedding at Cana in mind, begging our Blessed Mother to take charge.

And then I got the message, which I listened to in horror as it sounded like the volunteer was not going to be there, she'd called yesterday, said she'd be there on Sunday, while in my mind I was thinking, "WHAT ABOUT TODAY?!" I was thinking no one was there...how would I get everything ready by the time Mass started? I didn't even know what to DO!

And finally, at the end of her long message she said she'd be there tonight at 4. I nearly fell to the floor in a puddle of relief. Thanking God.

She indeed had things in place and explained some details to me as our First Communicants arrived. They were so sweet, so excited, and so nervous! They found their reserved pews and we explained the details for the last time, making sure the parents understood so they could cue the children at important points...like the Offeratory.

I had to run to the sacristy for a last-minute thing, and Father was also doing his last-5-minute-preps (whatever those are...I didn't stay to find out...). As I rushed in and out of the sacristy, I said, "I don't know who's more nervous...them or ME!" Father just laughed at me as I flew back into the church.

My volunteers were laughing at me, too. Both were going to leave as soon as things were in place (since I was there) as they will be there tomorrow as well. One had to go, the other said she could stay until we were done with the Offeratory as she had to join her daughter that evening, and had just come in to help get things set up. But she took pity on me in my nervousness, realizing it was my first Mass, and thank God she did! When the children came back during the Offeratory we did still have to go up and cue a couple of them, and then direct traffic back to the altar.

I returned to my pew and watched from there, tears in my eyes. In fact, during the responsorial I teared up pretty good but managed to not actually cry. I've put so much into helping these kids prepare for this moment! I've worked so hard with their parents especially, to prepare THEM, to impress upon THEM the significance of this day. And I don't know if I succeeded with a single one. Those who are converted could have done this on their own. The others who are not, well...I don't think I did a single thing that reached them. So as the tears came to my eyes, it was just as much joy for the children receiving Jesus for the first time as it was my angst in hoping that somehow, that grace overflows and changes them forever, too.

But there's nothing I can do, other than pray. And those prayers went to the altar with the gifts.

It was very moving, and I was so proud of those little ones!

Tomorrow we have even more at the morning Mass, and in the succeeding weeks...even more. All year, I've been complaining somewhat at the number of First Communion Masses, the difficulty in organizing it, and all the stuff that goes with it. But tonight I realized that if we had 50+ First Communicants and their families at the same Mass...OY! I think the Archbishop is wise to ask us to do things this way.

And it IS more meaningful and less of a pageant.

And you know....I learned yesterday that participating in a First Communion Mass actually gives occasion for a Partial Indulgence (or Plenary Indulgence? someone correct me.) In any case, I'll take whatever Indulgences I can get!

I'm still nervous, though, for tomorrow's Mass will be bigger, more crowded, more kids, more families... * sigh *

SUNDAY UPDATE: The morning Mass went even better than the first, in spite of the fact we had more children there, more families, but we also had more help. And God blessed us...it is all about HIM!

Kentucky Derby Tragedy

Today was the first time in YEARS that I missed the Derby. I'm a HUGE fan of horseracing.

So I just went to find out the results of the race, which is never the same as watching it happen in front of your eyes.

The good news: a colt with Minnesota connections won the Derby by several lengthy...he ran a great race.

The tragic news: Eight Belles, the first filly to run in the Derby since 1999 finished second...and then, inexplicably went down with two broken ankles and was euthanized right there on the track. There was no way to save her.

Thoroughbreds give everything they have when they race, but such an event is just a freak thing; typically, if they break something, it's when they are expending the greatest amount of power. A few years ago I was doing research for my book and was at the local track, speaking to the ractrackers there. One of the jockeys told me that he'd been aboard a horse that broke her back as they exploded from the gate. If you remember Barbaro, he broke down just after he broke from the gate (for the second time). Eight Belles, had finished the race, was slowing...and then went down.

It doesn't make sense. It's completely tragic.

My heart just goes out to her owners, to the jockey aboard...people put their heart and souls into their champions, and this was one promising filly.

Stuff Catholics Like!

The Curt Jester directs our attention to a new humor blog, Stuff Catholics Like. It's a fun mix of humor and catechesis, sure to become a quick favorite!

Personally, I have to say that this post is the one that made me spit coffee all over my computer monitor:

Nothing apart from Mass gives Catholics more comfort and causes more spontaneous combustion among Protestants than the Rosary.

So what are you waiting for? Go check it out!

Welcome, Archbishop Nienstedt!

Today, my dear friend Ray forwarded me the official press release announcing the end of the reign of Archbishop Flynn, and the beginning for Archbishop Nienstedt.

Friday, May 2, 2008
It's Official: Archbishop John C. Nienstedt is the Archbishop of Saint Paul and Minneapolis.

FROM: The Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis
CONTACT: Dennis B. McGrath
Director of Communications

…FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

THE MOST REVEREND JOHN C. NIENSTEDT OFFICIALLY ASSUMES DUTIES AS ARCHBISHOP OF SAINT PAUL AND MINNEAPOLIS

SAINT PAUL, MN, MAY 2, 2008 -- Archbishop John C. Nienstedt, 61, officially assumed the duties of Archbishop of the Archdiocese of Saint Paul and Minneapolis today, following the retirement of Archbishop Harry J. Flynn, who has led the Archdiocese since February of 1995. Archbishop Flynn was notified by the Vatican that his resignation was official on May 2, his 75th birthday and the normal age of retirement for archbishops.

Pope Benedict XVI appointed then Bishop Nienstedt to the post of Coadjutor Archbishop on April 24th of last year. A coadjutor archbishop essentially serves in a familiarization role until the sitting archbishop retires. Nienstedt had served the prior six years as Bishop of New Ulm, Minnesota.

A native of Detroit, he was ordained in 1974 following studies at Sacred Heart Seminary there and at the Pontifical Gregorian University in Rome. He served as associate pastor or pastor of numerous Detroit area parishes and as rector of Sacred Heart Seminary in Detroit. In June of 1994, he was named an Auxiliary Bishop of Detroit by Pope John Paul II. He served as bishop for the Dearborn, Downriver, Monroe, Northwest Wayne, Southland and Western Wayne Vicariates, before becoming Bishop of New Ulm in 2001.

“I am grateful to His Holiness, Pope Benedict XVI, for his confidence in naming me Archbishop of Saint Paul and Minneapolis,” Archbishop Nienstedt said. “It is a tremendous responsibility for pastoring the people of God now assigned to my care. I ask for the prayerful support of both Catholics and non-Catholics alike.

Ever since our new Archbishop was named Co-Adjutor, faithful Catholics have rejoiced, while those ascribing to the plague of Modernism have villified him, sight unseen. There were dire predictions about him from the latter crowd, which in many ways paralleled the reaction of the same crowd to the election of Pope Benedict XVI. Even the reaction of the media and non-Catholics has been negative towards this man, who has proven in his year with us that he is faithful and he is a true Shepherd. He is fair, he is pastoral, and truly, he will not waver on the teachings of faith and morals. The modernists indeed have something to fear...time to put the crystals away!

I have not met the new Archbishop, although I have been glued to his writings and responses to the hot-topic crowds, demanding that he acquiesce to their own definition of "dialogue". I have been present in meetings, the only "conservative" (I hate that term) Catholic in a crowd of "liberals" (I hate that term, too), as they advanced crazy rumors. What shocked me was that many in this group had met him and had a very positive experience and impression of him. But they were fearful that their pet projects would be taken away. (And right they should fear if their projects are against Catholic teaching!)

One of the funniest rumors I heard though, I just can't help but share: someone had heard that our new Archbishop is going to forbid women to teach religion.

I nearly snorted coffee out my nose on THAT one! And indeed, I broke out laughing at the sheer stupidity! When I finally could respond, wiping the tears from my eyes, I said that such an idea is pure idiocy; Archbishop Neinstedt is no fool, and there is no Church document in existance upon which he would base such a move.

I DID say that he would be within his rights (and ours!) to reinstate male-only altar servers. And this is quite possible, although I doubt he would do such a thing immediately. He has stated and has proven that he is not interested in making mass changes - rather, he is working to get to know his people, and in my opinion, he is going about things very wisely.

I did not tell the crowd of liberals around me that I would fully support the institution of male-only altar servers. I'd be first in line to applaud such an action! I feared they would lynch me and I wouldn't be able to finish my coffee before going to my martyrdom.

As I said, I've not met the new Archbishop, but I have nothing but a sense of trust in his leadership, and hope to one day have the opportunity to meet him.

GOD BLESS HIM and THANK YOU, POPE BENEDICT XVI for appointing him as our new Archbishop! Please keep him in your prayers!

Archbiship Emeritus Harry Flynn

I HAVE met our now Archbishop Emeritus on a few occasions, and also have nothing but good feelings toward him. He was a good Shepherd to us, and now he can follow his true gift; his Pastoral heart. Archbishp Flynn took a LOT of flack for his actions while he's been our leader, and I'll never say he didn't make mistakes. Public ones. But I do believe his heart was in the right place, he did what he felt best at the time, and I do believe he learned from his own mistakes. He is human, and we can't fault him for his humanity. Especially when we would have been as likely or MORE likely to make the same mistakes, or worse ones, if we were in the same boat.

Archbishop Flynn has a heart for the individual, and went about his work in that manner. I don't believe he was an Administrator; that wasn't his gift. And he saw his ministry in the way that Jesus saw His own; to reach out to each soul. Through Archbishop Flynn's actions, our seminary has turned around, Perpetual Adoration chapels have flourished, and countless people can testify to his personal touch in reaching out to them in profound moments in their lives. He was an Archbishop who never stopped being a parish priest.

I met him a couple years ago when my Pastor was installed at my parish. At the time, a bunch of crazy baby-boomer women were going around the deaneries and having "Listening Sessions" at various Modernist parishes, ostensibly to provide a study on women's perspectives on their role in the Church. I was not able to attend any of them. The "research" wasn't done by the time the Bishop came to my parish, and when I greeted him, I asked for a moment of his time. I told him that he was going to be getting a file of flawed research that was NOT representative of how women really feel about the Church. I explained that as a woman, I have found the Church to be the last sanctuary, the ONLY sanctuary, and the ONLY place I can go to be the woman God wants me to be. We aren't seeking to be priests...we are seeking to be like Mary, we are seeking to be holy women according to her example, and I wanted him to know that this is the prevailing view that he would not receive with that file.

I thanked him for our priests at my parish (we love them!), and for his time, and I started to go...but he wouldn't let go of my hand. Archbishop Flynn looked me right in the eyes and discussed the situation with me even further. He didn't just nod and smile like a politician and thank me for my opinion...what we discussed was a real conversation, even though it was brief, and since that day, I have been thanking God for such a man as our leader. Maybe he didn't seem to act in ways people thought he should, but I guarantee you that his personal efforts have brought a great number of individuals to embrace a life of personal holiness which is hugely contributing to the authentic Spirit of our community.

God bless Archbishop Flynn, Thank you for your service! Please always remember him in your prayers.


NOTE: For those interested, Father Valenchek has an awesome post on the proper response to our Bishops, well worth reading for everyone!

First Friday!

Today is a First Friday, a devotion I've held now for a few years. The Sacred Heart of Jesus was always a very prominent theme in the home where I grew up, and when I experienced my own conversion, Jesus continued to come to me in this image through pamphlets, holy cards, and random reminders of His heart burning with love for us all.

I often don't make it to daily mass for many reasons, but I tend to do all I can to get there on a First Friday, and usually go to Confession within days (either day of or maybe day after). It's a beautiful devotion, and I encourage all of you to learn about it and practice this devotion.

Bride of Christ

Yesterday at work, I was rushing to finish preparing for the First Communion Masses. 'Tis the season! Many parishes have begun them, many are still amidst the childhood sacraments, and some of us are finally arriving at the dates. This is my first one, my first year preparing these little souls for the sacrament...and yesterday all I could think was that I was forgetting something!

I spoke with Father with regard to a few things, relieved that the sacristan and he would take care of some of the issues. I asked him, "My gosh, why am I so nervous? I feel like I'm planning a WEDDING!"

And that's when it hit me; that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm planning a wedding for Jesus. The symbolism of the white dress and veil for little girls isn't accidental. They ARE little Brides. (And don't tell the boys, but they're brides, too, in this context.) For Catholics, the word "Bride" applies to us all, each time we receive Christ in Holy Communion. Each Mass is a wedding, and we are reminded that Jesus gives Himself to us, body, blood, soul and divinity, and calls us all to give ourselves to him, completely. It is a marriage.

And this figures in so closely with the Sacred Heart of Jesus, burning with love for us. The Eucharistic Miracle at Lanciano, when tested in the 1980's revealed the flesh to be specifically cardiac muscle...heart muscle. Jesus quite literally gives us His Most Sacred Heart.

How appropriate that our First Communions begin just after a First Friday, and in fact, on a First Saturday, comemorating the Immaculate Heart of Mary. And I'll let YOU ponder the significance of that!

V. Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
R. Have mercy on us!
V. Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
R. Have mercy on us!
V. Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
R. Have mercy on us!
V. Immaculate Heart of Mary
R. Pray for us.

Ascension Thursday

I'm LONG overdue for a rant, and today's the day, my friends! And as this is a rant, please forgive the occasional incoherence and cut me a break. OK, without further ado:

As you know, TODAY is Ascension Thursday. HOWEVER, in many places, the Feast of this INCREDIBLY THEOLOGICALLY SIGNIFICANT day hs been transferred to Sunday. The common explanation is this; by transferring the feast day, it makes it easier for people to get to Mass to celebrate it.

OK, fine. So let's discuss that. Let's discuss making it easier for people to sit on their lazy butts and ignore God. Here we go:


1. The Church is here to SAVE OUR SOULS. And if that means that saving our sorry pathetic unworthy souls means that we have the FREEDOM TO CHOOSE TO SKIP A HOLY DAY, well, then that's our own personal affair. God has a long history of allowing free will decisions that lead to death. Acquiescing to our sloth does NOT make us holier; it makes us lazier. God knew that a long time ago, and He let us realize this on our own. Why, oh why, is the Church leading us to learn this the hard way once again?

2. It's either Ascension Thursday or it's not. Either Jesus ascended into Heaven 40 days after His Ressurection, or He didn't. Period. By "transferring" the feast day, we are actually implying that,

A. The number of days since the Resurrection is insignificant, or

B. The Ascension didn't mean too much in the great scheme of things because we're brushing it aside to the nearest possible Sunday.

OK next point:

3. By moving Ascension Thursday we are creating the culture of relativity we so abhor. The Church in America has given into the culture of convenience. This is a slippery slope that NEEDS to be reversed ASAP!


REALITY CHECK!

I got news for ya, my friends: FAITHFUL Catholics will make every effort to get to Mass on a HOLY DAY OF OBLIGATION such as ASCENSION THURSDAY because:

#1: Even if we Catholics don't understand the significance of the Holy Day, we're willing to be obedient to the fact that the Church considers this to be an auspicious event, and thus it is worthy of our attention and God is worthy of our worship, as pathetic and disconnected as our worship may be in our fallen human nature.

#2: The same people who would skip the Holy Day of Obligation tend to be the same people to skip Mass on Sunday because they consider all Sunday worship to be optional and go only according to their personal feelings about going. If it's not emphasized, it's not important.

Don't think I'm kidding or exaggerating! I got a program evaluation this week from another parent ticked off at being given official Church teaching (i.e.: that missing Mass on Sunday is still a mortal sin.) She was upset because they have decided, as a family, that it's a "personal choice" to attend Mass on Sunday on a regular basis, and no one has a right to infringe upon their personal feelings in that matter. And she was very much offended that I would dare to contradict her preferences in this matter.

No kidding. Gee...I'm so sorry for "offending" you....NOT! God bless her for being ticked off...she got the message and heard what the Holy Spirit wanted her to hear! If that's the ONLY thing she walks away with then I'll die happy.

Anyway...my point is this:

Transferring Feast Days to the nearest Sunday does nothing more than feed into such an attitude; for if the official position of the Church is to give in the idol of convenience, personal preferences and feelings...well, how in the WORLD are the Bishops who make these bad decisions going to impress upon the "faithful" the importance and spiritual necessity of attending Mass every Sunday?

The transfer of this feast is a serious offense to us ALL. I might even term the decision as Spiritual Malpractice. I don't have the authority to say that it's an offense against God, however, I greatly suspect that it is. Every time Jesus did something, He MEANT it, and His ASCENSION 40 Days after His Resurrection was one of those very deliberate events.


OBEDIENCE

Obedience is a virtue, and one with which I often struggle. I am NOT holier than the Church, and with regard to faith and morals, I implicitly trust the Holy Spirit who has, according to his promise, protected the Church from grave error in the last 2000 years. And we have a good number of wonderful Bishops who perhaps make some bad decisions because they are human, too. And so I give my obedience to our Bishops even as I disagree with them with regard to non-doctrinal issues.

However, as the transfer of Ascension Thursday to Sunday is not a doctrine or dogma, but falls under the category of a "discipline" (unless I'm mistaken or there's a more appropriate term), I claim the right to dissent against the decision to make it a flaky day. It causes disunity within the Church with regard to a MAJOR Holy Day. Were it not for the Ascension of Christ, we would not have had the gift of the Paraclete to descend upon us at Pentecost!

One TRUTH follows upon another!

I find it irionic that this week (April 29) we also celebrated the Feast of St. Catherine of Siena. She and St. Bridgit of Sweden together brought the Babylonian Captivity (Avignon Captivity) to a close, encouraged the false Pope to resign, and basically saved the Church...via the action Holy Spirit, of course. St. Catherine herself wrote many chastizing letters to the Pontiff, but it was her final one that did the trick: She told the Pope that every day he remained in France was another mortal sin.

The Pope left France and returned to Rome.

And yet, here we are, in the same week that we celebrate the action of the Holy Spirit through one of the Elect: and we are flippant about the very action of Christ that was required in order for that same Spirit to descend and activate the defense of the Church!

Yeah, I have a problem with this.

As Catholics, we really aren't asked to do very much. We hold to the ancient teachings from the Law of Moses to keep holy the Sabbath, which, in fulfillment of the Law is actually Sunday in honor of the Resurrection. And we have a few Holy Days of Obligation in addition to Sundays, in which we are required to come and spend another hour of our week with the Lord, in honor of the gifts He has given us in relation to our salvation. We have two penitential seasons, Advent and Lent, and they require not much of us. We don't even have to observe the Ember Days anymore. (Many people don't even KNOW about Ember days!...if you don't, look it up!)

Too many of us have grown up in a culture of spiritual sloth. We have been given the message that these things are only guidelines with no real consequences if we don't follow them. What a lie!

Is it any wonder that there are at least two "lost" generations? Is it any wonder people are thirsting for God and don't know where to find Him? If the Church has no credibility, we are ALL lost.

I love the Church that Christ gave us, I love being Catholic, and if I didn't love this home, I woldn't be so upset by the ruin and rot I see happening. If we are to be honest, we need to look at this and realize that the condition of the people of faith is directly proportional to what has gone wrong in the Church. These wrongs need to be corrected.

Most of us can't do much. All we can do is pray, continue to observe our faith, we should be obedient and supportive of our bishops and we should make our needs known. We need the Church, we need a solid example, and we need to know the eternal consequences of treating the Lord and His teachings as a "personal choice." And yes, I know that the Holy Spirit is promised to us and will continue to protect the Church, in spite of bad decisions and moved feast days. I have no doubt that this situation we now observe will be corrected by faithful Bishops, and we needn't fret. Yet perhaps we DO have an obligation to speak up. After all, when Nestorius, a bishop, preached his heresies it was a layman who stood up and verbally condemned his words.

As Catholics, we are not asked to be cows; we are only asked to handle our concerns appropriately.

/rant

Hmmmm....

I had a brilliant idea today, which, like most of my "brilliant" ideas will likely never come to fruition. Either because at the time I have the idea, it actually involves a LOT more than I realize, or I just get stuck because I don't know how to go about it or what to do or anything else.

Here's how the moment of brillance came about this time, though:

I was speaking with a friend this afternoon. (As an aside - I have friends in the real world, people I don't talk to through computers, but who are live and in person! Truly! It's amazing!) Anyway, she was/is an artist but used to be commissioned to go to someone's house and paint a mural...and get paid for it! All she needed was her paints and her music, she set her own hours, let the owners know when she would be coming and going, and was left to do her work. It was an amazing life and she LOVED it.

As we spoke, that's when my own lightbulb went on. I was complaining that I can't do art anymore...nothing will come out of my pencil tip or pen or charcoal. The inspiration is gone. "But", I commented, "I can write."

And that was it. That snapshot of a moment. I paused. She and I looked at each other, thinking the same thing, maybe.

"Yeah! I can write!"

Don't get excited...that's not the entire thought. But let's backtrack; I have ALWAYS wanted to be a writer, ever since childhood. I loved writing. First reading, and then piecing together the stories, and finally realizing I could describe things on paper. It was incredible, and it saved me in my teen years when I spent large chunks of time working on a novel, taking my daydreams and giving them life.

I can't see ever not writing...it's literally part of who I am.

And there's the idea: I can write...MEMOIRS for people! My brother and I have asked Mom to write down her stories, but she can't even REMEMBER many of them anymore. All of us know people who have lived amazing lives, have amazing stories, and just need them to be written down. We still have World War II veterens, Holocaust survivors, Immigrants, and regular people who have done extraordinary things. Right in our midst.

Not everyone can write, though. Some are great verbal storytellers, but have no one to put their words into print, making those words immortal. Some have had great experiences, but need assistance in telling the tales.

Not everyone wants to be so vain as to publish a book about themselves for sale, but they DO want to be remembered to their friends and families. Perhaps they remember stories from their own parents and grandparents, cousins and friends.

I can write those stories.

I'd have to meet with them, sit down and listen, taking notes, having a tape recorder handy. I'd go home and write about it, and return to that person with a manuscript. They'd have to be involved in proofreading it for accuracy, for it wouldn't be my story, but theirs. But I could otherwise handle the rest of the edit, and maybe even help with getting it self-published in a bound edition. They would of course cover the cost but I could do the legwork.

I know that I'd have to charge for materials (paper, disks, etc.) but otherwise I have no idea how or what to charge for this endeavor. I know that many freelance articles charge per word, so maybe it would be a matterof checking into the going rate. And then it would still be a trust issue, for how would the client know I'm not just trying to be wordy? So is "per word" the best way to go about writing someone's story? I think there must be a different way of going about it.

I must research this. On the plus side, I'd be my own boss...except for the individual whose story I'd be telling. And it's something I could do this summer instead of getting "normal" employment. For I could be actively self-employed as a freelancer, even if payment was deferred. (I would not be able to ask for an advance as I'm not a known writer. Unless I was wokingi for someone who personally knows me and knows my character.)

On the down side...I'd have to do some major research first in how to start such a business, or if it would be not such a huge deal, how taxes would be handled, how to self-publish and the best companies. (I do know SOME about this but it's a changing industry and scams are prevalent.) I could also limit the scope, but if someone is looking for a bound book as a family heirloom, especially if it was complete with photos, well, maybe I wouldn't really know HOW to do such a thing.

Personal Consideration

I've applied this idea to myself; would I be willing to pay for such a service? As my Mom is getting up there and many of her stories are already lost to us forever, well, yes, I'd be willing to pay to have them in print. For they would not just be about her, but about her brothers and sisters, people she knew, places, descriptions, historical events, etc. That's a treasure.

Five years ago maybe I wouldn't have cared, but now, as I see people I love aging, well, I realize that they have something to say, something to offer the world, or even just those who are closest to them. How cool to be part of such a tome of memories.

I wish I could open the pages of a book and read about my grandparents and my ancestors...but I can't. I know almost nothing about them. I do have an aunt who has done our family's geneaology, and she's done a wonderful job, but it's quite dry. It gives the facts and the years and what they did, but nothing in the geneology tells us about who they were as human beings, as anything other to a contribution to our family gene pool.

So...as soon as I'm done with this semester, or if I get a few moments of curiosity, I will research this more. Hmmmm.....