You eat somebody's peanut butter and jelly sandwich and there's a high price to pay

Then he got creative and lowered the bounty

Feast day!

I love feast days. I don't know why. I just do. I have issues I suppose. Today we celebrate Archangels Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel! Two are extraordinarily special to our family, but it's terribly depressing that I'm the only one excited about today's feast day. I'm guessing I'm not allowed to beat them into submission of celebration?

Oh, the cleverness of me!

I wonder how long it will take the kids to notice that we read the Sunday gospel on purpose prior to Sunday. Today's comment was, 'You know that story we read last week? Well they read that at church this last Sunday!' - "Wow! Really? How cool is that! I wonder if they'll do it again?"

I so love it that the church follows my lead! Oh the cleverness of mother church!

My daily med (Lk9:51-56)

When the locals refused to welcome Jesus his disciples asked him, should we smite them, call down fire and let it consume them? Huh, huh? Can we? Please, please, please. Sacred scripture says Jesus's rebuked them. I'm guessing his response was something like this:

Happy Birthday

                                    
I was ruminating and pondering that I never wanted to get married, never thought I'd get married, never wanted/thought I'd have kids and not sure most days that I want the ones I have or have anymore. Had I not had kids or a husband I probably would've had vacation homes, fancy cars and boats, season tickets to anything and everything, lovers on every continent, money to buy anything my heart desired and how my heart would desire these things and more. Um, hold on, I'm having a hard time seeing the downside in all that. Where was I going with that???
     One day in that string theory future I would've woken up on empty having searched and not found what my heart truly desired and on that day, I would've doubled the contents of all the oceans with tears of remorse. My God loved me too much to see me as unhappy as that so he brought me close to Him so I could pour out a heart full of gratitude for all the gifts he's given me and for the ones he shielded me from. I love you too. Although, I really would like a boat.

On the corner of Leviticus and Deuteronomy twirling my beads

    the daily mass whore gets lots of experience praying with different congregations, priests, worship styles. I've been around the fruitcakes and the wacky priests who change the liturgy to say 'she' instead of 'He', 'Mother' instead of 'Father' or my 'sisters and brothers' instead of brethren or brothers and sisters. Let's elevate woman in this way. Let's make her not equal to man, but superior, HA HA HA! Then she shall be happy and no longer badger anyone. Really?
I remind myself God chose to be a man. He chose.
I also remind myself that he chose to be born of a woman. In so doing he elevated woman in a way words would never do.
So pray however you like. I'll pray with you but not to be superior to man. I only want to be his partner, and if you really want to know I would just love for him to be a hero!

Shopping list

flour

eggs

chicken

stick butt (stick butter :-))

DSi x2

"Hunny, um why are there (at this point sir monkeyness conspicuously scampers out of the room) 2 Nintendo DSi's on the SAMs list?"

         What made me smile regarding the last item was not that monkey boy had the cheekiness to write down DSi’s on the grocery list but that he wrote down x2. He can say he doesn’t love her all he wants but his actions betray him.

Headache Novena

         Typically, a novena is 9 consecutive days of prayer. I was hoping to make it through life never doing one, but my friend Maria made sure I had several under my belt. I even started a few on my own. Started being the key word.
          There are loads of variations on this prayer theme, but nine days is the standard. I never, ever, ever expected to branch out into the present novena. I am on the sixth day of a headache. Six Days!! I can't normally make it through 9 days of prayer so I am hoping this novena headache goes the way my ordinary novenas go and it peters out well before nine days.

My Meds

      In Luke's gospel parable of the rich man and Lazarus (16:19-31), both die and the name-less, face-less rich man begs for Lazarus to be sent to him to comfort him. While in this life Lazarus lacked all the material goods of the rich man, what most amazed the kids when we discussed this was that the rich man knew Lazarus in this life. He knew his name. To know one's name is to gain entry into intimate friendship with someone. Nevertheless, Lazarus remained a name-less person to rich man as he lived this life. So I asked them,who is the Lazarus in your life?
   Whether they remained speechless because they were pondering or whether they were bored will remain to be seen.

Killer Martyr Starter cards

 

     Those who know me, know my proclivity for Killer Bunnies, so imagine my shock when we open the mail and find our killer martyr card starter deck, with the option to buy expansion packs. Nice try, but I don't think we'll accept.

Hurrican Katrina relief sop up pads

     My husband's lack of feminine experience became readily apparent shortly after marriage. Although he was eager to discover every naked square inch of my flesh, the discovery of my female cycle took him quite by surprise. I recall his face falling in shock when he found me in one of my feminine hygiene moments: 'you're, you're, you're ...bleeding'. So it really should come as no surprise to me that he returns from an emergency hygiene product run with tampons that could have been used for emergency dike control during Hurricane Katrina.
   Good grief! That's the last time I send him to the store without a list, but the eternal optimist in me says, 'If there's ever a flood, we're prepared!'.

Devastated

Monkeyboy's godmother and husband are divorcing after 15 yrs of marriage. It's devastating news. I can't help but think of my late brother's wife who'd give anything to have what most couples take for granted.

Hello World

Joy

I loathe attending gymnastics practice. The seats are uncomfortable, there is no proper place to view the practice and I can’t communicate to sir monkeyness, so why go? He enjoys it when I attend. He suppresses all emotions of course (if I didn’t know better I’d think him German) but his heart skips a beat & his eyes light up when I walk in unexpected. My presence albeit in discomfort, irritation, and boredom brings him great joy and in a strange way brings me joy.

         Isn’t this similar to doing those little acts of kindness for our Lord? The curbed tongue when you want to lash out at someone, the kindness shown instead of your foul mood, inconveniencing yourself for the sake of someone else and forgiving those who’ve hurt us? These things bring great joy to our Lord and if we remember this, it just might overwhelm us with joy!

Evening prayers with the pope

    I just got my personal invitation to evening prayer with the pope courtesy of the BBC! So I guess they're not so useless after all.
                                    
The look on Cardinal Bertone's face told me he was less than impressed with the Anglican evening choir practice as I was. The big surprise of the night: the good Archbishop of Caterbury read our pope's encyclicals. I was impressed, and so was the Holy Father.

Nothing pithy today

    or any day for that matter. I was thinking to no one but myself how desperately I needed a vacation. These meetings (where we discuss heavy weight topics in MR physics) are taking all of my strength and concentration. All I've wanted to do is be someone else for a day or two, sit in a cafe, but it's to meetings I go. Today, a colleague decided to kidnap us early from work to take us to the Dutch countryside. While I appreciated it (and have been invited to go sailing with my colleague {if I can manage to stop insulting him, what can I say I'm memorable!}), I find that I will pay dearly by staying up to the wee hours crafting a presentation for the day's first meeting.

That is twice in one week I've had specific requests granted. Although, I wouldn't have classified this last one as a prayer request. It was more exasperation. I'm starting to worry, that's unprecedented! Ok, someone needs to stop praying for me, maybe...

Bless me Father

    
I just used the words Fr. Hotpants and Fr. Squarepants in a sentence. Yep, I'm pretty
sure that's obligatory confessional material. Although in regards to Fr. Hotpants, it was more a comment on the glories of God and how Glorious he is! Oh, my confessor's gonna love me...

Love is...

    ...having a husband who'll listen to ' History of the World: Updated', which is interesting, but dry as an unbasted Christmas Turkey just so he can save the movie wife wants to watch when she returns.

...being able to share those 'oh for f's sakes!' (one of my more favorite colorful terms - the other is even better so I'll keep that to myself) moments of irritation with someone!

You've got to be kidding me

     The feast of the exaltation of the cross, need I say more? A week ago the gospel reading was 'whoever does not carry his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple'. Well crap, if that's the standard then no wonder no one follows. I mean can't we just discuss this over coffee or something? Picking up something painful and heavy is not my idea of fun, and I'm suppose to want to do that? Why exactly?
English not being my first language I looked it up, to will is 'to intend', while to want is 'to desire'.
I don't want to help Peachy practice (and get whined at); I don't want to pick up dirty clothes and wash; I don't want to travel; I don't want to go to gymnastics meets; I don't want to go to church, and sometimes I don't want to pray (yes prayer whore would like a few days off); I don't want to go a single night without tucking my kids into bed, or be without my husband; I don't want to be the optimist in a room of pessimists. I don't want to do a lot of things, but I do them. Does that make me a saint OR a disciple? Hardly, but it's my lousy best.

Dissapointment

     Why does it hurt so much when, for example a friend or what you thought a friend refrains from sharing with you those significant moments in their lives? Whether it was intentional or not doesn't matter. It hurts just the same.
How I wish I wasn't relational.
Father Tom always used to talk about being in relation as a pathway to intimacy with Jesus, but opening yourself up to that kind of intimacy leaves you vulnerable doesn't it? You can get hurt, especially a woman. Men are more shielded aren't they? By nature, they have to go outside of themselves to discover what it is to be a woman. It's external to him, but for a woman, her intimate space gets invaded. She touches on what it is to be a man only from deep within her. She's vulnerable.

    From this shortly after the end of the occupation (WWII)
to this .
Just wow! The inside is amazing and absolutely gorgeous. Unfortunately the pews were empty a seemingly growing concern in Europe. However, just a few minutes down the road I worshiped with people who were on FIRE with love! I walked in and although there was no welcome committee, no greeter, I immediately felt welcomed. Was it the music, the singing (mediocre at best), the preaching, the building (whitewashed cinder blocks), cobblestone floors, wooden kneelers?
It was the reverence given during the mass and to the Holy Eucharist by no less than everyone even those kneeling on the floor because all the seats with kneelers were taken. I left there thinking, I want to be part of THAT community! Oh wait, I am!
Worship like you mean it and you'll change the world! It sure changed me.

Sometimes, having morals really sucks!

Peachy's prayers

     During the Year of the Priest Peachy decided to start praying for priests, collecting their signatures to her prayer book. I tried to dissuade her knowing it would end up as my project too. DO I WANT to collect signatures for her? DO I want to go up to men, "Hi Father, I'm a stalker. My imaginary daughter prays for priests, and I want you to sign this book. My PRECIOUS!! Would you sign? My PRECIOUS!!" Yeah no not so much, unless I know the guy and even then I send her in to do the dirty work, but I do it 'cause I love that little girl and she lights up when she gets more signatures! I'm SURE those men think me a lunatic!
I get all sorts of responses: genuine admiration, humble gratitude, awkward disbelief, tolerance and outright disinterest. The two I remember most:
- the priest I interrupted from Wisconsin who's face fell in disbelief, gave me his full attention and hugged me like we were old childhood friends. He promised to hold her in his heart at his next mass and to be sure, he wrote her name on a napkin and stuffed it in his clerical front shirt pocket.

- the priest from Europe who stopped everything to stare at me like I was a saint (I decided not to disabuse him of that notion because I really needed that boost at the time, that and I suspected he knew better. ) He smiled at me like he just won the lottery. He then proceeded to write a heartfelt blessing for her.

My wishlist

    I was editing my wish list when I started thinking about 'What is it that I have that I truly value' and I thought of this:

 

Ordinary rosary, yes?
I used to attend daily mass in MN. To be honest, I was the whore of the daily mass if there is such a thing and yes it was me. I'll attend daily mass anywhere, anytime with anybody. I'm a prayer whore too as long as I'm coming out of the closet, turning tricks or whatever! At one parish they'd say the rosary a 1/2 hour before mass including the priest in the last pew. Well when I told him we were leaving, he wanted us to stop in that evening where he bequeathed monkey boy a rosary, Peachy a medal and out of his very own pocket he dropped into my hand the rosary he prayed with daily, pictured above. It is the most precious things I own.

Inner peace, inner peace, inner, inner

    
This bed has been with us 10 years maybe. It's comfy, the kids like sleeping in it, hearing bedtime stories. Monkey boy broke the headboard doing monkey stuff on it, go figure but my folks are here less than a week and they've demolished it.
However, it still doesn't hold a candle to my house burning incident... inner peace...

God has the most amazing pallette of paints!

You might be a homeschooler if...

    (inspired from a post Papa read but fashioned from PA experiences)
- going to WalMart is a field trip
- shoveling snow is a Phys Ed activity
- writing thank you notes/invitations is part of handwriting class
- you've made/decorated a pinata for a family member's birthday as part of Art class
- in one day you've completed all your school subjects while waiting in the Dr's/dentists office,grocery or hardware store, post office, gym, at church, before music lessons and in the car
- you have to re-do every problem you miss but still keep your initial grade
- you think a permission slip is something a woman wears
- you live in a world where it is perfectly acceptable that your teacher kisses you for a job well done
- every naked inch of you has been used to demonstrate to you proper health and hygiene
- you know more about human sexuality than most adults (and more bible verses too)
- you don’t shy away from a conversation with any adult
and my personal favorite
- if your ten years old and can still be found holding your mothers hand in public!

My daily med (Mi5:1-4)

     From you (who are too small) shall come forth for me one who is to be ruler in Israel.

Oh, the paradoxes of God. Think of it! The big bang theory: in one fell swoop the universe came to be already with the imprint of what it should be. Had it expanded a fraction faster/slower we wouldn’t be here. At conception, we have the genetic imprint of our being. Although the genetic expression of that being will come later, the blueprint is already there for our rise as we grow and genes express themselves and our fall as we age.
It’s an ever present reminder to me not to judge what I see based on what I see because not as man sees does God see for God sees into the heart, which is both reassuring and frightening much like Joseph’s fear. What was more terrifying, divorcing Mary quietly or taking her as his wife knowing she was the mother of God?

Marriage

     We've had more than a few couples comment to us that we are their 'model'. Is it how we compromise (what's his is mine and what's mine is mine - eh, it works), or how we parent ('dad, help it's heavy' - Grow stronger)?

I was looking at a photo of us and I had to laugh because...

under no circumstances would I ever mistake us as a couple, EVER!

He's Irish. I'm mexican. He's white. I'm wheat. He's daring. I'm not. He's serious. I'm silly. He's dry humor. I'm Monty Python. Our spiritualities are even different! Every other couple I meet I can go "yep, I can see that". They even look alike in certain ways or have other similar traits, politics, religion, whatever, but perhaps we do share something in common.

I'd prefer to do or have things that we don't but it's not more important to me than our marriage so I keep my silence (sometimes I can do that!). I'm certain there are things he'd rather have/not have/do/not do but he's never had a need to share that with me.

I for one am grateful! It's hard enough trying to fulfill the needs&desires of everyone else tugging on me that it's nice to have someplace to go where no one makes those demands. I'm lucky enough not only to have a husband but also friends who do that for me.

I just hope I do the same for them!

The cathedral of the Incarceration

    Am I just tired or is that just a really unfortunate name for a cathedral? I believe it was Incarnation. Ooops.

St. Christopher,

                     
pray for all those traveling this weekend and bless all families as they gather together this holiday weekend celebrating work and the joys of the worker by resting and relaxing with family. I'll be traveling to Texas to drive my parents so they can spend part of September with us so I'll probably be ready for work come Monday!

Chuppy, wuppy, puppy

    
Gross!!! I know where that tongue has been!

Nevertheless, she's a good chuppy! We'll have had her 15 years this November. When we got her from the pound, she had been mistreated and abused. I can't imagine how or why anyone would have frightened her the way they did, but it took her some time to figure out that just because I was cross with her I wasn't going to hit her. It also took us a little while to adjust to her thieving ways.
These days she sleeps a lot, and I'm not so sure she can see very well anymore, but we do let her know from time to time that it's ok for her to go to the light. Papa gets particularly encouraging of this journey and even offers to speed her along her way after she takes to relieving her bladder discomfort in the house.

My daily med (Lk 4:40ish)

  "The crowds went looking for him, and when they came to him,
  they tried to prevent him from leaving them"

Ain't that the truth! I know when I'm having a Jesus moment I don't want to be distracted or interrupted, but I'm selfish that way. It's good to spend that intimate time in prayer and the sacraments, but this reminds me that I can't stay there. My place is serving him in my marriage, my family and those he's put in my life. This inevitably involves me being distracted and interrupted.
   Am I mindful in those moments that it all serves a purpose? It makes me think that if I can keep in mind that it's Him I serve so that His kingdom may come, then no task can be mundane and no distraction really distracting. Although, my feelings may disagree with that assessment! Feelings can be such a distraction.

Ah, the thoughts of the American

     In the airport, the latest rag had the scandal of this week's celebrity caught cheating on his wife and the overheard conversation went like this:

* well that didn't take long
* How long were they married???
* well you know, they've been married a long time, 7/9 yrs maybe and she's old!!

It was at that point that I relocated and thought what kind of messed up world is this?

It's not a game, a test or a class so it's not cheating. It's a broken vow. It's tender treasures that were entrusted to a hero who turned out to be chump, upturning all the treasures placed in his care into the mud. He was suppose to lay down his life to protect his bride, his marriage and he failed. Does it matter how long ago the vow was made? Does it matter there are prettier girls than his bride? It truly breaks my heart to see this which is why I had to walk away. I couldn't gawk at his shortcomings because I have so many of my own.
It made me think, does our God gawk? Not a chance! He offers us another chance to take him all the treasures that were entrusted to us (muddy, missing or broken). He cleans them up and hands us a bigger treasure box in which to store our newly restored treasures and lo and behold he adds a few extra!! He sends us on our way knowing when we mess up (when not if!!), we can always come back to him and all it takes is an ounce of humility...
bless me Father ...