Merry Christmas Monkeyboy!

Monkeyboy had several gifts under the Christmas tree on Christmas day and we enjoyed labeling them. Maybe we enjoyed it a little too much. He didn't have a single present that was relabeled with the same name. There were gifts labeled to:

Monkeyboy (of course)

Rafiki

Big R

Him-Sir

Ramses

Mister

Pooh-pooh-doo-doo
Scrunch Monkey

We decided that next year we'll label his gifts with:

Poopey (stemming from Pooh-pooh-doo-doo)

PPDD (stemming from Pooh-pooh-doo-doo)

The Big P (also from ppdd - this one got me into all sorts of trouble because I said that was my favorite 'because sometimes I also have to take a big p'. Papa was not impressed, neither was PPDD)

and

Mister Mo' Ron

Merry Flogging Christmas!!!!

Ahhhh. It's here. It's Christmas. It's finally the Christmas season! Boy what a wait it's been.

Did you know... the Christmas season extends until January 9th? That's right bring on the festivities. That being said, the Christmas season can be quite sobering because the first day after Christmas we celebrate the Feast of Saint Stephen who was stoned to death under the witnessing of St. Paul, at the time known as Saul.

Right in the middle of our celebrations is the sobering reminder of what it means to be a disciple of little baby Jesus. You can never separate the cross from His mission.

Did you know...the mid-point of the Christmas season is the Solemnity of Mary on January 1st. That's right the mid-point is New Years' Day. It's not the end. It's the middle.

Did you know...the placing of wreaths on doors was symbolic of martyrdom, a martyrdom for the faith. The name Stephen itself means 'wreath'.

Peachy's pinch-e pots

Seems that Peachy made some pinched pots in her art class. Lucky us now have her 'lovely' pinched pots! Have I mentioned how 'not artsy' I am? When I apply myself, I can appreciate art but even then I miss so much. Perhaps that's why my confessor told me I need to develop that side of me. Eh, crafts are not my thing. I'm so happy for all the crafty moms out there but I ain't one of them. I don't speak that type of mom language and I don't get all gooey looking at her artwork. She however is ever so proud of them.

So this morning when I saw them I asked husband 'What are we going to do with Peachy's pinche (spanish expletive akin to damned) pots?'
So he reminds me ' They are PINCHED pots not pinche pots!'

No, I pretty much think they are what I said they are.

Here's your sign

The priest today pointed something out about Ahaz's refusal to ask for a sign from God (Is 7:10). He didn't ask for a sign because he didn't want to have to look for a sign, much like the people at the butt of Bill Engvall's jokes. Granted asking for a sign from God can be a bit daunting because well, you need to be careful what you ask for because you just might get it. One has to be on alert because God will always answer, just not in the way you think He might.

A friend of mine was discerning the priesthood and he wasn't sure he had a vocation. So he had asked for a sign. He got his sign in the form of a burning barn and barnswallows. You see living out in the country, one day he found himself alone in his parent's farm still unsure of the priesthood. He awoke from a nap badgered by barnswallows. They were chirping and hovering over him. So he got up chased them out of the house which was when he discovered the barn was on fire. Off he rushed. On his arrival he noticed some chicks chirping in the burning barn, the chicks of the barnswallow that had awoken him. As he rescued them, he realized that had he not been there the chicks would have perished in the fire. He connected this incident to his prayers. Internally he just knew he was called to the priesthood because it could be no one else but him to do the mission God had in store for him. God needed him to save souls from the burning fire and gratefully he allowed it.
It's like that for us too. We just need to hope, pray and be alert for the sign because it will come, just not how we imagine it.

God's own fool

"When we in our weakness believed we were strong,

He became helpless to show we were wrong."

I wonder sometimes if God isn't best understood through paradox. I was reminded of this in today's reading from Luke1:5ish where Zechariah questions the angel Gabriel. He asks him how he will know he's to be a father (after the angel announces this will happen - dude, he just told you!). His doubt results in his losing his voice. Perhaps Zechariah was like me speaking much but saying little, who knows? Perhaps his strength was his preaching, his vocal prayers but in his weakness, his inability to speak, emerges God's strength. When he regains his voice, he speaks little but says much. From his silence emerges one of the great prayers of the church. A prayer she prays daily in the morning office, the Canticle of Zechariah.

O come O come Emmanu...Pooh-pooh-doo-doo

Our advent tradition has been to light the advent wreath during meals and sing a short song afterwards. As soon as the song ends, there is a mad dash to blow out the candles, hopefully without 3rd degree burns. If I haven't mentioned before, husband never calls anyone by name. Hence, monkeyboy's pseudonym. Well, he also affectionately calls monkeyboy, 'pooh-pooh-doo-doo'. In fact he loves changing verses while singing at mass just to annoy monkeyboy. So I wasn't surprised when singing O come O come Emmanuel after dinner that he changed the lyrics:

O no here comes pooh-pooh-doo-doo

He doesn't know that he stinks

Beware his stench might make you gag

Until he takes his smelly self a bath

Rejoice! Rejoice! He's found the soap

and now he doesn't smell like a goat

Rejoice! Rejoice! He's found the soap

and now he smells more like the Pope

Yes, well, singing 'O come O come Emmanuel' shall never again be quite the same for me.

"Don't make me angry"

"You wouldn't like me when I'm angry."

Heck I don't like me when I'm angry. I turn into this incredible scum who wants to lose her temper while trying not to lose her temper. It's a battle that I so desperately simultaneously try to lose while fighting to win. Prayer. Prayer is a good thing so I'm told, but during these times it turns into a minefield where I meditate on my anger and I just get angrier. I suppose I should examine the root cause....eventually.

Our Lady is a mother

This photo is of Juan Diego's tilma or apron upon which our Lady miraculously appeared. It is framed and hangs above the altar at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City. What strikes me as just hilarious of the miraculous story which you can read from iBrievary (from the report of Don Antonio) is that after Juan Diego had met with our Lady a few times, he found himself in a hurry on his next occasion because he was on an errand to find a priest for his ailing uncle. The story continues with: "Juan Diego set out on Tuesday, but he went around the hill and passed on the other side, toward the east, so as to arrive quickly in Mexico City and to avoid being detained by the Heavenly Lady."

Wow, me too buddy. Haven't we all tried to avoid our mothers at one time or another or those women who act like mothers in our life? Don't we dread being detained too or being taken care of when we can do it on our own? I know I do. Women have this henlike characteristic to take care of things for those they love. I despise it, but sometimes I can't avoid doing it. So it's reassuring to me that Our Lady is a nagging mother who won't stop looking out for her children even when her children don't want to have anything to do with her.

The Immaculate Conception

I was musing over today's first reading from Genesis and I found God's response to Eve striking, 'Why did you do such a thing?'.
Isn't that something? Why? First God goes to Adam, then to Eve and then to the serpent. In that whole exchange in the book of Genesis, I'm just profoundly affected by how gently he handles Eve. Juxtapose that against the address to the serpent.

Damn You Auto Correct Reveals 9 Funniest Texts of the Year

Damn You Auto Correct Reveals 9 Funniest Texts of the Year

When angry is the weather pattern

Calm your anger and forget your rage - Psalm 37

I had this amazing conversation with my confessor about my anger. He asked me why I was so angry and what was going on that's got me wound up? I must have had this complete lost and total look of helplessness when I answered, "I have no idea. It's like I wake up and just like the weather is cold outside, I'm angry. It's just a fact of nature. Likening a weather pattern to an emotion, is the only way I know how to explain it." Aside from the grace that flows from sacramental confession which I don't mean to downplay,..... how to deal with anger?

If it's cold outside, bundle up and protect against the elements. If it's angry inside, bundle up and protect against the elements. Here's how I bundle up: I pray. I ignore it, in the sense that I offer my anger to God. (just because I'm angry doesn't give me a free pass to act on it.) I admit/acknowledge/recognize that I'm angry - that one's important. Name it, because then you can place it. Feed on scripture and load up on grace. That's what I'm trying to do and if that helps you then praise God.