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!

Christmas Dinner

Here is the menu for Christmas Dinner - just the four of us, so we'll have lots of left-overs!

Double-berry salad (raspberry gelatin/cranberry sauce)
Herb-roasted turkey with Glazed Carrots (fresh sage and the last carrots from the garden)
Sausage dressing
Broccoli
Sweet Potato Casserole
Buttermilk biscuits

Two-tone Pound Cake

I'm getting started today, since I'm the only one who cooks, and tomorrow Christmas Mass is at 1pm (we only have the one option here), so that ends up right in the middle of prime cooking time.  Though Father may end on time so he can catch the mid-afternoon ferry back home. :-)

Oh, and I can't forget, I'm also making chocolate chip cookies for Santa. 

If I'm feeling bold tomorrow, I'll post pictures of dinner, a la Fr. Z! 

Covering My Head

I've recently begun to wear a head covering to Mass.  I already did this for times I spent in Eucharistic Adoration, and occasionally for prayer - the chapel veil helps me to keep focus.  Kind of like blinders on a horse, the veil allows me to focus "straight ahead" and not let distractions bother me.  I do not wear a chapel veil for the Mass, though, just a small expandable head band.  Perhaps one day I'll have the courage to wear the veil, but as it is now the small covering is all I manage.  Even in wearing this, I notice some of the more progressive (mostly women) people of this already progressive parish looking askance at me, and some even avoid eye-contact with me. 

I am the reader for Christmas - will I wear a head covering when I read?  I'm not sure yet.  I am praying about it.  What is my motivation?  Why do I want to wear something on my head?  In one way I am trying to lead by example - lead people "back" to a more traditional/orthodox expression of the Faith.  But on the other hand, I am doing it because it helps me and reminds me where I am and in whose presence I am sitting.  Do I have to wear a head covering to remember this?  No, but it helps - and most weeks I need all the help I can get!

Merry Christmas!   

Why?

He has drawn me closer and closer to Him,

Encouraging my independence from creatures

And my dependence upon the Creator.

He has pulled me further and further in,

Showing me His hand, gentle and strong,

Inviting me to rest within His embrace.

He has called me and helped me to answer,

Not leaving me on my own but always staying with me

Carrying me just as I take a step forward,

Gracing me with strength, courage, wisdom.

He has shown me that I have nothing, am nothing,

Yet am full of all that He is,

Full of all that He has given me.

So why do these tears haunt me?

Why do these questions weigh down my heart?

Why can I not just take what He offers,

Giving myself completely to Him,

Knowing that when I do,

He will give everything to me?

"I Have Sent Your Children to Heal You" (with minor changes)

I don't know how a parent recovers from the loss of a child.  We, parents, are supposed to die first - it is the "natural order".  It is expected that our children will live long, healthy lives years beyond our own.  A parent shouldn't attend their own child's funeral.  These are some of the thoughts that have gone through my mind in the days after the shooting in Newtown, CT.  My heart is broken over this tragedy.  I have found myself in tears, feeling sadness - yes, for the children, their parents, the adults killed, their families, the shooter, his family, the town, etc...  But also for something far deeper and bigger - what is going on with this world we live in?  I have asked this question so many times over the past several months.  I have been thinking of death a lot, and am working on an article which has required me to think of death, hope, faith, suffering....  There are days it is too much and I just want to curl up in a corner and cry.

I must be careful and aware of my internal emotional state.  I tend toward depression and despair, so when things begin feeling "normal" I have to stop and take stock.  It seems my default setting is depression since I have suffered from this illness since my youth.  It is said this can be hereditary, but I wonder how much is nature vs. nurture since both my parents self-medicated with alcohol and though never "diagnosed" with any mental illness, it is quite evident to me that we as a family suffered from one or more psychological conditions.  When a child is brought up in a situation like this, it is "normal" and so any other state seems abnormal.  Is this caused by genetics or is it just a reflection of the environment to which one is exposed - or a combination of both?

It is only in the past three years that I have risen out of the grip of depression.  As I made my way back to Christ, as I re-found my true Father in God, I began to feel a strange sensation:  Hope.  What a wonder hope is!  Hope was not something I remember having much of as I was growing up.  But as long as I can keep my eyes focused on the Cross I can fairly easily find "hope" and that seems for me the key to maintaining a grip on the joy that we are all meant to possess.

But there are times when this hope escapes me - I try to keep my eyes on the Lord but just can't seem to gather the courage - like the past few days.  It all seems so senseless - and it makes me think of the research I have been doing for my article.  This tragedy sends my mind thinking of abortion and physician-assisted suicide.  I am left wondering, praying, doubting, seeking, grasping....

There are logical and rational and practical considerations, but right now they are all out the window.  The idealist in me is devastated.  And I am reminded of something which came to me a couple of years ago in prayer: "I have sent your children to heal you."  This was a personal message for me, and it has personal implications and meanings, but as I have thought and felt and cried my way through the news of this tragedy, this "message" returned to my thoughts and I began to wonder --  what are we to do if we are killing our children?  How shall we ever be healed?  How deep is the evil ingrained in us when we turn on our own children? Our future? This pain I feel is the same pain I have felt when considering the numbers of children who have been killed by their own mothers - the pain I have felt when trying to gather people together for pro-life prayers, and none have come - the pain I have felt wondering what this world is coming to if we cannot protect and cherish and love the most precious and innocent life there is.  It is a pain I am unable to bear on my own - a pain which runs deep - a pain which threatens to engulf me.  A pain which can only be mitigated through prayer, and a practice of and trust in Faith...Hope...and Love.