Good Friday

Today my desire was to find myself curled up at the foot of the Cross, allowing our Lord's blood to wash me clean.   
"We adore you O Christ, and we praise you.  Because by your Holy Cross You have redeemed the world."

There Are Days

When you have a son who, for a vocabulary assignment to write a story using all the words for the week comes up with this:

On the planet Natharaxia, sentient nettles were wreaking vengeance on their prim masters, the Unified Sector 78 Peoples.  They had come to Natharaxia with fantastic stories that captivated the nettles.  However the people sent to govern the nettles were the pedestrian Slakaars, and this nettled the nettles.  They were filled with revulsion at the Slakaars.  Over time, the Slakaars became very surly.  Eventually, an anonymous, impulsive nettle declared war on the Slakaars and exhorted others to do the same.  So, the nettles ceased making long elegies and debunking fraudulent foxgloves and went to war.  They clambered over the hills of Natharaxia and attacked the Slakaars.  Having no initiative whatsoever, the Slakaars soon surrendered.

...you begin to wonder why you try so hard.  Sigh.

Turkey-White Bean Soup

I enjoy playing in the kitchen, and every now and then I'll write down what I've come up with.  One yummy soup I came up with as a post-Thanksgiving use of turkey:

Chicken broth to pot (4 cups),
with one can drained and lightly mashed white beans (white kidney beans),
cumin, 1 tsp + (I use 1 Tablespoon),
oregano, 1 tsp,
minced garlic, 2 + cloves (I use 4 cloves),
salt, 1/4 tsp,
black pepper, 1/4 tsp,
shredded, chopped, pulled (whatever) turkey breast,
frozen corn (or fresh, off cob), 1 cup,
juice of one lime


Bring to boil, then simmer for 30 or more minutes.

Serve with Monterey Jack or Pepper Jack cheese and tortilla chips.  Sour cream if desired.

The turkey breast I used had been roasted with a rosemary, thyme, garlic rub.

Infused Contemplation

"Prayer, contemplation, infused:  an infused supernatural gift, that originates completely outside of our will or ability in God, by which a person becomes freely absorbed in God producing a real awareness, desire and love for Him.  This often gentle or delightful encounter can yield special insights into things of the spirit and results in a deeper and tangible desire to love God and neighbor in thought, word and deed.  It is important to note that infused contemplation is a state that can be prepared for, but cannot in any way be produced by the will or desire of a person through methods or ascetical practices (Author)."     Navigating the Interior Life, Daniel Burke

Before this dark night descended upon me, this state of infused contemplation was a fairly regular occurrence.  "Delightful" is certainly a good word to describe it.  I will admit I have missed these times, so when yesterday morning I found myself quite unexpectedly in this contemplation I felt as though I were glowing.  These rare moments seem to come only when I am un-self-conscious and have for a brief moment abandoned myself to Divine Providence.  "I Want to Be Home" is a result of this brief time spent in infused contemplation, and is a very poor representation of what I actually thought /felt for that moment.  Words are unable to express such things with any precision.

Grilling in March

I had gone through our freezer, finding food items we needed to eat and I came across two nice pieces of top sirloin.  Hmmmm....sure it's windy and cold and raining - but surely I can grill these outside.  So, I did!  It probably looked a little funny, to watch someone bundled up and grilling with the wind whipping her hair around.  Luckily it didn't rain.  The grill didn't get as hot as usual, and complained when the wind kicked up, but it worked just fine and we had a green salad (from over-wintered greens in the garden), sweet potatoes and top sirloin.  Mmmm, mmmm, good!  And I didn't have to worry about being attacked by the multitudes of yellow jackets that are here in the summer.

I Want to Be Home

I remember being 6 or 7, and seriously wondering if I had been adopted.  I did not fit in with my family.  I was so different.  Years later, I discovered something which showed me I may not have been too far off the mark!  But today, as I sat to pray, reading Scripture, it occurred to me to ask how I could be of this world? This is not where I was meant to be.  I want to be Home with my Father.  I want to be Home.

How do I live now so that can eventually happen?  My faults are great and my sins are many, and I see nothing around me right now that shows a path, a way, a light.  How do I find my way to trust in God again? 

These are just questions I ask myself, as I long so for my Lord.  I know and believe in His Mercy, without which I would be completely lost.  I see my own wretchedness and see how great it is. . . but I KNOW that God's Mercy is ever so much greater than my wretchedness - and because of that I can continue living as best as I can, with His Grace, growing closer and closer to Him and my ultimate goal.

Two Reactions - Which Is More Vocation Friendly?

My 5-yr. old has been saying for almost a year now that he wants to be a priest.  When he told our pastor this a few weeks ago, Father just laughed and said something to the effect of "well, there's a long way to go before that can happen."  Today, my little extrovert asked when he could go talk to our former, now retired, pastor who had come over for a daily Mass.  I said go ahead and talk to him now.  So he went up to him and said "I want to be a priest."  Leaning down toward my son, Father said (cue Irish accent) "Well, that's great!!  I can't keep doing this forever!" 

Now which do you suppose is more vocation friendly?  Our current pastor does not encourage vocations at all.  One of our parishioner feels called to the diaconate, and I heard him ask Father about this.  Again, all I heard from Father was the "there's a long way to go before that can happen" talk.  He seems to only see the difficulties, and not the beauty; the long road, and not the passion.  I wonder if this has more to say about him than about anything else.  He seems to be a nice man, but we have no encouragement for vocations, no encouragement to go to confession, no discussion on sin or hell or even heaven.  The handful of times our retired Pastor has come over, I think every time he has mentioned confession, today mentioning the fact that God is always willing to give us another chance but there will come a day when we have no more chances - so be ready, and go to confession!  We have heard of the seven deadly sins, the corporal works of mercy, lots of good history, the occasional recitation of Shakespeare - all from this wonderful, old, Irish priest.

And at night when he says his prayers, my son always asks God to bless our retired, Irish Father.

No Shortcuts

Message for the day, caught in between a dream and the fourth decade of the Rosary - Sorrowful Mysteries, "The Lord Carries His Cross":

There are no shortcuts.  Go back, pick up your cross, and bear it.  Follow me.  Follow me alone.  Follow me all the way.

Will It Always Be Night?

It began just as a light fog - things weren't as clear as they had been, but the fog thickened.  I could feel it closing in around me, but still the path at my feet and just ahead was visible.  Then it started to rain - a cold, drenching rain - causing me to huddle inside, making my way slippery and slow.  And then I saw the night approaching.  Here I sit, in the middle of a foggy, rainy, night with no stars since clouds are low and thick.  I dare not move.  Every now and then I get a glimpse of light, but it does not light the path or show me what surrounds.  It is too quick, too brief.  Will it always be night?  How long must I stay in this desert?  It seems like it has already been a long time, though I know I can count it in mere months.  I would say I am lost, for that is what it feels like, but lost doesn't seem quite right.  There are things I know, and it is to these that I must cling.  For even when I can see nothing around me, even when I cannot see any light or any path, I know that He has not abandoned me.  I know where I want to be, even if I don't know the way.  What did Frodo say?  "I will take the Ring to Mordor. Though-- I do not know the way."  I cannot be completely lost, for I know my goal is Heaven, to be with God for all eternity - even if at the moment "I do not know the way."

What to do?

Our parish hosted the "Ecumenical Lenten Soup Supper" tonight, and I was asked by our lay leader (he is trained to lead a Communion/Word Service in the absence of a priest, which does sometimes happen here) to assist him in leading one half of the group as we prayed the Liturgy of the Hours/Vespers tonight.  I also read one of the readings.  Even though I am an incurable introvert, I don't mind being out in front of a group of people.  I have been trained in public speaking, and specifically in Scriptural Reading (thank you Sr. de Lourdes!).  I minored in Drama in college.  Speaking in front of large groups, even though I do get nervous, is something at which I am fairly good.

But here is the dilemma:  I was asked tonight by the lay leader if I would like to be trained as a lay leader.  I don't think women should lead services which might be construed by some to be a Mass - for even though it is made quite clear, I know that there are some who don't really see the difference.  There are many in my parish who are in favor of women priests.  My "being raised" to this lay-leader position would bring even more attention to the debate here about women priests.  My gut tells me not to accept the offer.  But could I, in a position of leadership in the parish, possible bring about some changes?  Bring more orthodoxy, more devotions, more Catholicism to the parish?  For example, we do not have Stations of the Cross offered during Lent - is this a way to bring more orthodox Catholicism to this progressive little parish?

I am torn and do not know what to think.  I will certainly pray and ask for guidance, but if anyone has an opinion I would be willing to hear it.  I am in the middle of the desert right now - only small glimmers of light come to me.  I know now is not the time to make a change, until this time of personal spiritual darkness is over, but....  I am conflicted.  Of course, this could just be the adversary baiting me and trying to get me to change my focus. 

And then there is this:  the primary reason my husband gives for not attending this parish is because of two men in the parish.  Guess who they are?  One is the current lay leader.  The other has accepted the offer to be another.  I already have to be careful that I do not mention these two men's names to my husband - what would it mean to be working very closely with them?  I don't know.  Please pray for me as I try to make this decision - and any good advice would be appreciated.

Really, I'm trying!

I have no less than three posts sitting in draft form.  Everything seems trite.  Sigh.  I'm just having one of those periods where nothing in my brain can make it to paper in even remotely the same form in which it forms in my brain.

Of course, it could just be that my younger son won't stop talking to me...and I can't think with all that constant chatter.  ARGHHHHH!

Where I'm From, a poem

I am from cornbread, fried shrimp,

Hushpuppies and grits…

From iced tea, straight up,

Tea bag re-used three times.

I am from the Southern Pine,

Deeply rooted in red clay,
Bending in hurricane winds,

Surrounded by azaleas and dogwoods.

I am from Pecan orchards,

Row upon row of Silver Queen Corn;

Sirmon’s “Big Ol’” Strawberries:

Pick your own.

I am from the afternoon thunderstorm,

Tornado shelters, trailer parks.

From water moccasins in the streets,

Courtesy of Hurricane Frederick.

I am from plaid school uniforms,

Multiplication tables, perfect penmanship

Taught with an Irish brogue

And a ruler.

From respect for our Flag

Folded with military precision,

With dreams of West Point

And horses.

I am from the Lady of Chalot,
Twelfth Night, Psalm 27,

To comfort and soothe my soul.

From the rich melody of

Old family names: 

Guarisco, Lazzari, Bertagnolli…

Surrounding my new one;

Green eyes hiding among dark brown.

I am from fear, anger, violence

And the black leather belt

Hanging on a nail.

I am from the smell of cheap beer,

whiskey watered down;

From Strength in silence,

Hiding for safety,

Quiet, listening.

I am from a childhood misplaced,

Pictures lost, traditions forgotten,

Family scattered

By our own choosing.

Nothing to tie me to home

Except lessons from the past

Learned with my ear
To the floor.

(Inspired by: "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon)

Homily Encouraging Confession

Everyone should read this homily -- well, at least every Catholic :-)!!

Releasing the Arrow

Amen!

We had a visiting priest for the past two Sundays.  He is a Benedictine, not even 2 years ordained, and from a town probably about 2.5 hours from the ferry landing (so, he had a really long day getting here and getting back - I'm thinking he spent Saturday night).  Well, we had maybe 50 people in attendance yesterday - you see, there was this football game (Seattle Seahawks) which apparently was around the same time as the Mass.  Father thanked us for coming, and continued on by saying (and this is probably a bad paraphrase) that the lack of attendance was a sign that the Church is a hospital for sinners, not a <museum> of saints and people often miss the mark...and some must not realize the importance of attending Sunday Mass.  After he said this, you could feel the surprise in the room, the choir decided to launch right into the Kyrie', and I tried very hard not to laugh in gleeful surprise at a priest who wasn't afraid to say something which might make him unpopular - granted, he won't be here next week, but I was still gladdened at his statement.  Woo hoo! 

Amen, Fr. PT.  Amen!