Yes, my husband is a Catholic Deacon!

Grandma's Hands

2008-11-04T12:00:00.003-05:00

Grandma, some ninety plus years, sat feebly on the patio bench. She didn't move, just sat with her head down staring at her hands. When I sat down beside her, she didn't acknowledge my presence and the longer I sat, I wondered if she was okay.

Finally, not really wanting to disturb her but wanting to check on her at the same time, I asked her if she was okay. She raised her head and looked at me and smiled. 'Yes, I'm fine, thank you for asking,' she sa id in a clear voice strong.

'I didn't mean to disturb you, Grandma, but you were just sitting here staring at your hands, and I wanted to make sure you were okay,' I explained to her.

'Have you ever looked at your hands?' she asked. 'I mean, really looked at your hands?'

I slowly opened my hands and stared down at them. I turned them over, palms up and then palms down. No, I guess I had never really looked at my hands as I tried to figure out the point she was making.

Grandma smiled and related this story:

'Stop and think for a moment about the hands you have, how they have served you well throughout your years. These hands, though wrinkled, shriveled, and weak have been the tools I have used all my life to reach out and grab and embrace life. They braced and caught my fall when as a toddler I crashed upon the floor.

'They put food in my mou th and clothes on my back. As a child, my mother taught me to fold them in prayer. They tied my shoes and pulled on my boots. They held my husband and wiped my tears when he went off to war.

'They have been dirty, scraped and raw, swollen and bent. They were uneasy and clumsy when I tried to hold my newborn son. Decorated with my wedding band, they showed the world that I was married and loved someone special. They wrote my letters to him and trembled and shook when I buried my parents and spouse.

'They have held my children and grandchildren, consoled neighbors, and shook in fists of anger when I didn't understand.

'They have covered my face, combed my hair, and washed and cleansed the rest of my body. They have been sticky and wet, bent and broken, dried and raw. And to this day when not much of anything else of me works real well, these hands hold me up, lay me down, and again continue to fold in prayer.

'These hands are the mark of where I've been and the ruggedness of life. But more importantly, it will be these hands that God will reach out and take when He leads me home. And with my hands, He will lift me to His side, and there I will use these hands to touch the face of Christ.'

I will never look at my hands the same again. But I remember God reached out and took my grandma's hands and led her home.

When my hands are hurt or sore or when I stroke the face of my children and husband, I think of Grandma. I know she has been stroked and caressed and held by the hands of God. I, too, want to touch the face of God and feel His hands upon my face.

When you receive this, say a prayer for the person who sent it to you, and watch God's answer to prayer work in your life. Let's continue praying for one another.

Passing this on to anyone you consider a friend will bless you both. Passing this on to one not yet considered a friend is something Christ would do.

-Author Unknown

The Big C -

2008-10-23T19:56:00.002-04:00

Being a Deacon – a servant of God – does not make you immune to the BIG C!
Tom and I have begun a journey we have traveled with many other people – both family and friends. We received the news last week from Tom’s doctor – he has prostate cancer. In deep recesses of our mind we knew this day would come but knowing that it is a real possibility does not lessen the blow when you receive the news. Processing the information received becomes a full time job – it is mentally, physically, spiritually and emotionally draining. Trying to educate yourself about test results and possible treatment is a daunting task. This is the rest of your life you’re making a decision about and you don’t want to make a mistake.
Trying to pray for God’s guidance instead of shaking your fist at Him and screaming “WHY” is difficult. Oh, yeah me and the Big Guy have had words over this – but ultimately I know He will be there by our side as we walk this path and we will need all the grace He has to offer.
My only hope is that I can be the strong support that Tom needs. Tom is the only person in the world that I have ever leaned on completely and never had to worry about let me fall. Everyone talks about how strong I am – how I take charge and make things happen – have to say I have been told more than once that I can be a bit intimidating. Well, I am able to be all of those things because I know that Tom has my back, that no matter how bad the day has been he will be there when I get home to just let me be me. He is truly the Wind Beneath my Wings and there have been times when he has had to work hard to keep me up in the air. He has never complained and in all the years we have been married he has never raised his voice to me. Hey, he cooks and goes grocery shopping too – yes, yes I know how lucky I am.
When I count my blessings I count Tom twice. That is why I do not want to have my time with him shortened by even one day. The good news is that they doctors seem to think they have caught the cancer in the early stages. We will know more once the surgery is complete and all biopsies returned.
Please, keep us in your prayers.

Quiz about deacons - How much do you know about being a Catholic Deacon

2008-07-27T19:02:00.003-04:00

A Quiz About Deacons

How much do you know about the permanent diaconate? Here's a special challenge for you: Take the following quiz about deacons and their role. The answers just might surprise you!

TRUE OR FALSE:

1. Deacons are ordained clergy.

2. There have always been permanent deacons in the Roman Catholic Church.

3. A married deacon is expected to place the Church as a priority above his wife and family.

4. The wife of a deacon is called a deaconess.

5. A single or widowed deacon is expected to remain celibate the rest of his life.

6. The deacon works for the bishop of the diocese he serves, not the priest of the local parish.

7. Deacons serve the Catholic Church primarily through the liturgy of the Mass.

8. Lay ministries are not needed in parishes with a deacon.

9. Deacons do not have the same formation as priests.

10. There are more deacons in the United States than in all other countries combined.

Here are the answers to the quiz:

1. TRUE. There are three levels of holy orders in the Catholic Church. The diaconate is the first level; it functions as the service ministry of Christ. In other words, deacons are servants, called to embody the work of Christ in service of justice, the Word and the altar. There are as many ways of serving as there are deacons. All deacons can baptize, witness marriages, bring the viaticum to the dying, and preside at
funerals. They proclaim the gospel and may serve as the homilist at mass. Like John the Baptist, they lead a prophetic life of service for the benefit of the Church.

The priesthood is the second level of holy orders. A priest is ordained a deacon prior to being ordained a priest. Priests stand in the place of Christ himself as they celebrate the sacraments of Eucharist, Reconciliation, and Anointing of the Sick. They carry a spiritual responsibility for the community of faith they serve. Through the sacraments and ministries of the Church, priests manifest the presence of Christ in the world.

Bishops are ordained to the fullness of holy orders. They fully convey the leadership of Christ as Prophet, Priest and King. They shepherd the churches entrusted to their care (with the help of priests and deacons), and safeguard the gospel that has been passed down to us from the Apostles themselves. They lead their dioceses in communion with the Pope and all the other bishops of the world.

2. FALSE. To be fair, this is a trick question! There have always been deacons in the Church. In Acts of the Apostles, the apostles assign the service ministries of the Church to seven deacons. Several saints in the early Church were deacons, some of whom later became bishops, like St. Athanasius. In general, up until 500-600 A.D., their duties were similar to those of today's deacons. They were especially instrumental in helping the Church spread across Europe.

The permanent diaconate gradually disappeared during the Middle Ages. Monasteries and convents were providing charity originally associated with the service of deacons. The liturgical role of the deacon received greater emphasis over works of charity. Gradually, the diaconate became a transitional step to priesthood.

Vatican II restored the office of the permanent diaconate. There were three main reasons for this action. The restoration would return to the Church the full complement of ordained ministries handed down from the Apostles. The new deacons would confirm and highlight the work of the Holy Spirit already present in the Church. Finally, deacons would bring sacramental service to areas where priests are scarce.

3. FALSE. A married man who is ordained a deacon in the Catholic Church is expected to honor his first commitment in the sacrament of marriage, with the Church's blessing. The Church will not ordain the man unless his wife gives her consent in writing. A married deacon often must juggle a secular job, his family responsibilities and his service as deacon. This is not a vocation for the faint of heart!

The relationship between marriage and holy orders is an interesting one. In Eph 5:22-32, the marriage between a man and a woman is compared to the marriage between Christ and his Church. The passage, in effect, says that each one must serve the other in love. Christ came to serve rather than be served. The man has already been a deacon (Greek diakonia means "to serve") to his wife, and she to him. Thus, his ordination to the diaconate is an affirmation of the Christian service evidenced in his marriage.

The unity of the deacon and his wife is a sign to the entire parish of the unity of Christ with his Church. Often, the deacon's wife serves the parish or local community in a concrete way herself. After ordination, the deacon and his wife may work together in various ways to build up the Kingdom of God. The beauty of the diaconate is that the question of exercising "power" is replaced with the solid emphasis upon service. Those who would see the wife of a deacon as "used" and not appreciated are missing the point. Christ humbled himself to union with us. In a very real way, the deacon and his wife both embody this divine humility.

4. FALSE. (But it was true at one time.) The wife of a deacon today is not called a deaconess. She should be referred to as "Mrs. Jones", or "Louise", if you are on familiar terms. She remains a lay member of the parish. Some deacons' wives lament that people treated them differently after their husbands were ordained. This need not be so.

In the early church, the wife of a deacon was referred to as a deaconess. (Deaconesses, single or married, were responsible for preserving modesty during female baptisms.) However, married deacons (and married priests in the eastern rites) were expected to practice celibacy. Canon 13 of the Council of Tours (567 AD) states:

"If a presbyter be found with his presbytera or a deacon with his deaconess, or a subdeacon with his subdeaconess, he must be considered excommunicated for a full year and deposed from every clerical office, and know that he is considered among the laity."

5. TRUE. Single men ordained to the diaconate, whether preparing for the priesthood or not, must take a vow of celibacy. They are not allowed to marry. Deacons who are widowed must also observe the norm of celibacy. However, the widow of a deacon may marry with the Church's blessings.

The reason for this is simple. Those ordained to the service of Christ and His Church are called to consecrate themselves to this work with an undivided heart. The sacrament of matrimony and the sacrament of holy orders must not be in competition. A married man is ordained a deacon with his wife's consent. The wife usually participates in the formation and discernment process. This is meant to safeguard against possible friction after ordination.

The virtue of chastity is expected in both married and unmarried deacons. Chastity refers to pure, self-giving love between a man and his spouse. This pure love brings forth physical and spiritual fruit. Married deacons usually have children, the physical fruit of chastity. Bishops, priests and single deacons are celibate in order to devote their fruitfulness to the Kingdom of God. Their spouse is the Church. The Catechism puts it nicely: "accepted with a joyous heart, celibacy radiantly proclaims the reign of God." (1579)

6. TRUE. Only the bishop is allowed to ordain a priest or a deacon. Thus, the deacon has a direct relationship to the bishop. It is the responsibility of the bishop to ensure that deacons are placed in parishes and ministries where their talents and special charisms will bear fruit. In the economy of sacramental order, bishops and priests were first deacons. Their knowledge of the needs of the diocese are crucial to the success of the diaconate.

Placement of deacons should reflect the needs of the faith community.

At the same time, deacons who are placed within a local parish will obviously want to work harmoniously with the pastor and the bishop. Priests, and bishops, do not stop being deacons when they are ordained to the next level of holy orders. They still serve. A deacon is not a mini-priest, nor a glorified altar-boy. By serving the servant, the bishops, priests and deacons will ground their relationship within the humble love of Christ.

7. FALSE. It may be that you only see the deacon serving the Church on Sunday during the Mass. Most deacons serve the Church throughout the week in a variety of challenging and wonderful ways. Many deacons are involved in the pastoral care of the ill and dying. Other deacons are spreading the good news of Jesus concretely in soup kitchens, homeless shelters and other social service agencies. Still others reach out to addicts and convicts in prisons and mental health clinics.

Parish-based deacons help to encourage lay ministry within the parish, and actively promote service to the world. Indeed, a deacon is expected to help a parish encounter and address the needs of the local community. In many dioceses, priests who request a deacon to be appointed to their parish are on a waiting list. We can only expect this trend to continue, with the shortage of priests growing yearly.

8. FALSE. The main function of the deacon is to imitate Christ as a sign and sacrament of service. Parishes, and deacons, are called to be Christ's hands, feet and mouth in the world. Most people will acknowledge that often our parishes fall far short of this goal. The focus of the deacon is to serve in such a way that encourages each and every Christian to imitate Christ.

Lectors, lay eucharistic ministers, acolytes, and other lay persons need not feel threatened by the presence of a deacon. The deacon is not a lay person, he is a member of the clergy. His primary focus is to highlight needs that are not being met within the life of the community. Strong lay participation in a parish may negate the need for a deacon. (And this would delight the deacon, you can be sure!) The exception to this may be parishes with no priest. There have been deacons assigned to such parishes in recent years.

9. TRUE. The formation programs are separate. Deacons undergo a formation that takes approximately three - five years; formation for a priest is generally a year or two longer. Deacons and priests learn many of the same things, such as the study of the bible, church history, interpersonal dynamics, liturgics, and theology. However, deacons and priests are preparing for distinctly different forms of service. Also, the deacon must learn to balance the demands of family, secular job and formation.

The sacrament of holy orders is irrevocable. It is extremely important that the discernment of a call be confirmed prior to ordination. In most dioceses, the number of deacon candidates accepted for ordination is a small percentage of those who apply for admission to the program.

10. TRUE. There are over 11,000 deacons in the United States, and about 20,000 deacons world-wide. When the permanent diaconate was restored, it was expected to grow fastest in third world countries. However, the most notable growth has been in the United States and Germany.

There are several reasons for this growth. The Church in America is blessed with excellent educational and financial resources. The enthusiastic reception of Vatican II reforms in the United States gave added impetus to the proliferation of vocations to the diaconate. The spiritual need of the Church in America has never been greater. I like to think that God has raised up deacons in America to remind us that the power of the Holy Spirit is stronger than the forces of evil in our midst.

How did you do? Here's the grading scale:

10 out of 10 correct: Wow! You must be a deacon or the wife of one!

At least 8 correct: Very good. Your knowledge of the diaconate needs to be shared with friends and family!

At least 5 correct: Not bad-- some of the questions were tricks, anyway! You might have learned a thing or two from this test.

Less than 4 correct: Maybe those trick questions were too unfair! In any case, you might be interested in the following books: The Deacon in the Church, by Lynn Swanson (Alba House (800) 343-ALBA); Permanent Deacons: Who They Are and What They Do by Henry Libersat (booklet from Liguori Publications available in most Catholic bookstores); Permanent Deacons: Guidelines on their Formation and Ministry (Publication 974-2, USCC, (800) 235-8722.)

Taken from the May 14, 1995 issue of "Catholic Twin Circle." For subscriptions contact: Catholic Twin Circle, P.O. Box 260380, Encino, CA 91426-0380, (800) 421-3230.

Have you ever lied aked the Lord - Yes, Lord - I forgive you

2008-04-07T07:52:00.002-04:00

One day, a man, his heart heavy with grief, was walking in the woods. As he thought about his life this day, he knew many things were not right. He thought about those who had lied about him back when he had a job.

His thoughts turned to those who had stolen his things and cheated him. He remembered family that had passed on. His mind turned to the illness he had, that no one could cure. His very soul was filled with anger, resentment, and frustration.

Standing there this day, searching for answers he could not find, knowing all else had failed him, he knelt at the base of an old oak tree to seek the one he knew would always be there. And with tears in his eyes, he prayed:

"Lord- You have done wonderful things for me in this life. You have told me to do many things for you, and I happily obeyed. Today, you have told me to forgive. I am sad, Lord, because I cannot, I don't know how. It is not fair Lord, I didn't deserve these wrongs that were done against me and I shouldn't have to forgive. As perfect as your way is Lord, this one thing I cannot do, for I don't know how to forgive. My anger is so deep Lord, I fear I may not hear you, but I pray you teach me to do the one thing I cannot do:
Teach me to forgive ."

As he knelt there in the quiet shade of that old oak tree, he felt something fall onto his shoulder. He opened his eyes. Out of the corner of one eye, he saw something red on his shirt. He could not turn to see what it was because where the oak tree had been was a large square piece of wood in the ground. He raised his head and saw two feet held to the wood with a large spike through them.

He raised his head more, and tears came to his eyes as he saw Jesus hanging on a cross. He saw spikes in His hands, a gash in His side, a torn and battered body, deep thorns sunk into His head. Finally he saw the suffering and pain on His precious face. As their eyes met, the man's tears turned to sobbing, and Jesus began to speak.

"Have you ever told a lie?" He asked?

The man answered - "Yes, Lord."

"Have you ever been given too much change and kept it?"

The man answered - "Yes. Lord." And the man sobbed more and more.

"Have you ever taken something from work that wasn't yours?" Jesus asked?

And the man answered, "Yes, Lord."

"Have you ever sworn, using my Father's name in vain?"

The man, crying now, answered - "Yes, Lord."

As Jesus asked many more times, "Have you ever"? The man's crying became uncontrollable, for he could only answer - "Yes, Lord".

Then Jesus turned His head from one side to the other, and the man felt something fall on his other shoulder He looked and saw that it was the blood of Jesus. When he looked back up, his eyes met those of Jesus, and there was a look of love the man had never seen or known before.

Jesus said, "I didn't deserve this either, but I forgive you."

It may be hard to see how you're going to get through something, but when you look back in life, you realize how true this statement is.

Read the following first line slowly and let it sink in.

If God brings you to it - He will bring you through it.

I have had a rough couple of weeks - due to the death of several wonderful and much loved people in my life and the news that a few more now suffer from health problems - this showed up in my mailbox right on time - Jesus has been reading my emails again.

Letter from Satan - HELL

2008-04-01T09:26:00.003-04:00

A LETTER TO YOU FROM
SATAN

I saw you yesterday as you began your daily
chores.

You awoke without kneeling to pray. As a matter
of Fact, you didn't even bless your meals,
Or Pray before going to bed
Last night.

You are so unthankful, I like that about you.

I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have not
changed your way of living,you are mine.

Remember, you and I have been going steady for
Years, and I still don't love you, Yet.
As a matter of fact, I hate you, because I hate
God.

He Kicked me out of heaven, and I'm
Going to use you as long
As possible to pay Him back.

You see, GOD LOVES YOU and HE has great plans in store for you.

But you have yielded your life
To me, and I'm going to make your life a living
Hell.
That way, we'll be together twice. This will
Really hurt God.

Thanks to you, I'm really showing Him who's boss in your
life with all of the good times we've had.

We have Been watching dirty movies,
Cursing people out,
Stealing,
Lying,
Being
Hypocritical,
Fornicating,
Overeating,
Telling dirty jokes,
Gossiping,
Being judgmental,
Back stabbing people,
Disrespecting adults,
And those in
Leadership positions.
No Respect for the Church,
Bad attitudes.

SURELY you don't want to give
All this up.

Come on, Fool, let's burn together forever. I've
Got some hot plans for us.
This is just a letter
Of appreciation from me to you.
I'd like to say "THANKS" for
Letting me use you for most
Of Your Foolish Life.

You are so gullible, I laugh at you. When you are
Tempted To Sin, you give In.

HA HA HA, you make me sick.
Sin is beginning to take its toll on your life.
You look 20 years older, and now, I need new blood.
So go ahead and teach some children how to
Sin.
All you have to do is smoke, get drunk or drink
Cheat, gamble, gossip,
Fornicate, and live
Being as selfish as possible.
Do all of this in the presence
Of children and they will do it too.
Kids are like that.

Well, I have to let you go for now. I'll be
Back in a couple of seconds to tempt you again.
If you were smart, you would run
somewhere, confess your sins,
And live for God with what little bit
of life that you have left.

It's not my nature to warn
Anyone, but to be your age and
Still sinning, it's becoming a bit
ridiculous. Don't get me wrong, I still hate you.

See you soon - Satan

IF you live your life like there is no HELL - you better be right!

Lent is ending - Are you changed?

2008-03-22T09:41:00.003-04:00

Catholic’s are an Easter People – yes we love Christmas and the birth of Christ signals the beginning of all that will form our beliefs. But if there was no Easter – the resurrection – Christmas would simply be a beautiful story. It is only through His death and resurrection that our salvation is possible.

So, tonight we will celebrate the Easter Vigil and those that have been attending RCIA classes for the pasted year will be welcomed into the Church. Some will be baptized and others will enter the Church by their profession of faith – having been baptized prior into other religions. It will be a night for much celebration throughout the Catholic community. In Atlanta alone we will be welcoming almost 2,000 New Catholic’s into the Church. As adults they will receive 3 of the 7 sacraments tonight – Baptism, Conformation and Eucharist. Needless to say Lent has changed these New Catholic’s. They have been attending classes for many months – studying the Catholic doctrine. Preparing themselves through scripture reading and prayer.

Has Lent changed you?

Many of us have observed Lent through the three traditional pillars of Lenten observance which are prayer, fasting and almsgiving.

Prayer: More time given to prayer during Lent should draw us closer to the Lord.

Fasting:Fasting can help us realize the suffering that so many people in our world experience every day, and it should lead us to greater efforts to alleviate that suffering.

Abstaining from meat traditionally also linked us to the poor, who could seldom afford meat for their meals. It can do the same today if we remember the purpose of abstinence and embrace it as a spiritual link to those whose diets are sparse and simple. That should be the goal we set for ourselves—a sparse and simple meal. Avoiding meat while eating lobster misses the whole point!

Almsgiving: It is a sign of our care for those in need and an expression of our gratitude for all that God has given to us. Works of charity and the promotion of justice are integral elements of the Christian way of life we began when we were baptized.

Now we come to the night that we ask ourselves – Did Lent change me – Have I grown closer to the Lord or have I simply spent the pasted 40 days going through life as usual?

My prayer for you is that in some way the celebration of Lent has made a difference in your life and that you will continue to live out your Lent all year.

Thanks my friend - look for the gem

2008-03-15T11:03:00.004-04:00

A man was exploring caves by the seashore. In one of the caves he found a canvas bag with a bunch of hardened clay balls. It was like someone had rolled clay balls and left them out in the sun to bake. They didn't look lik e much, but they intrigued the man, so he took the clay balls bag out of the cave with him. As he strolled along the beach, he would throw the clay balls one at a time out into the ocean as far as he could.

He thought little about it, until he dropped one of the clay balls and it cracked open on a rock. Inside was a beautiful, precious stone!

Excited, the man started breaking open the remaining clay balls. Each contained a similar treasure. He found thousands of dollars worth of jewels in the 20 or so clay balls he had left. Then it struck him.

He had been on the beach a long time. He had thrown maybe 50 or 60 of the clay balls with their hidden treasure into the ocean waves. Instead of thousands of dollars in treasure, he could have taken home tens of thousands, but he had just thrown it away!

It's like that with people. We look at someone, maybe even ourselves, and we see the external clay vessel. It doesn't look like much from the outside. It isn't always beautiful or sparkling, so we discount it.

We see that person as less important than someone more beautifu l or stylish or well known or wealthy. But we have not taken the time to find the treasure hidden inside that person.

There is a treasure in each one of us. If we take the time to get to know that person, and if we ask God to show us that person the way He sees them, then the clay begins to peel away and the brilliant gem begins to shine forth.

May we not come to the end of our lives and find out that we have thrown away a fortune in friendships be cause the gems were hidden in bits of clay. May we see the people in our world as God sees them.

I am so blessed by the gems of friendship I have. Thank you for looking beyond my clay vessel.

Stations of the cross -

2008-03-01T18:39:00.006-05:00

Christ Speaks: These fourteen steps that you are now about to walk.
I walk with you.
Though you are you and I am I, yet we are truly one – one Christ
And therefore my way of the cross two thousand years ago and your “way” now are also one.
But note this difference. My Life was incomplete until I crowned it by my death. Your fourteen steps will only be complete when you have crowned them by your life.

1 Jesus Is Condemned

Christ Speaks: In Pilate’s hands, your other self, I see my Father’s will. Though Pilate is unjust, he is the lawful governor and he has power over me.
And so the Son of God obeys.
If I can bow to Pilate’s rule because this is my Father’s will, can you refuse obedience to those whom I place over you?

I reply: My Jesus, Lord, obedience cost you your life. For me it costs an act of will – no more – and yet how hard it is for me to bend.
Remove the blinders from my eyes that I may see that it is you whom I obey in all who govern me.
Lord, it is your.

2 Jesus Takes His Cross

Christ Speaks: This cross, this chunk of three, is what my Father chose for me.
The crosses you must bear are largely products of your daily life. And yet my Father chose them, too, for your.
Receive them from his hands.
Take heart, my other self, I will not let your burdens grow one ounce too heavy for your strength.

I reply: My Jesus, Lord, I take my daily cross. I welcome the monotony that often marks my day, discomforts of all kinds, the summer’s heat, the winter’s cold, my disappointments, tensions, cares.
Remind me often that in carrying my cross, I carry yours with you. And though I bear a sliver only of your cross, You carry all of mine, except a sliver in return.

3 Jesus Falls

Christ Speaks: The God who made the universe, and holds it in existence by his will alone, becomes a man, too weak to bear a piece of timber’s weight.
How human in his weakness is the Son of God. My Father willed it thus. I could not be your model otherwise.
If you would be my other self, you also must accept without complaint your human frailties.

I reply: Lord Jesus, how can I refuse?
I willingly accept my weaknesses, my irritations and my moods, my headaches and fatigue, all my defects of body, mind and soul.
Because they are your will for me, these “handicaps” of my humanity, I gladly suffer them.
Make me content with all my discontents, but give me strength to struggle after you.

4 Jesus Meets His Mother

Christ Speaks: My mother see me whipped. She sees me kicked and driven like a beast. She counts my every wound. But though her soul cries out in agony, no protest or complaint escapes her lips or even enters her thoughts.
She shares my martyrdom – and I share hers. We hide no pains, no sorrow, from each other’s eyes. This is my Father’s will.

I reply: My Jesus, Lord, I know what you are telling me. To watch the pain of those we love is harder than to bear our own.
To carry my cross after you, the sufferings of my dear ones – the heartaches, sicknesses, and grief of those I love.
And I must let them watch mine, too.
I do believe – for those who love you all things work together unto good.

5 Simon helps Jesus

Christ Speaks: My strength is gone; I can no longer bear the cross alone, and so the legionnaries make Simon give me aid.
This Simon is like you, my other self. Give me your strength.
Each time you lift some burden from another’s back, you lift as with your very hand the cross’ awful weight that crushes me.

I reply: Lord, make me realize that every time I wipe a dish, pick up an object off the floor, assist a child in some small task, or gibe another preference in traffic or the store; clothe the naked, teach the ignorant, or lend my hand in any way – it matters not to whom – my name is Simon. And the kindness I extend to them I really give to you.

6 Veronica Helps Jesus

Christ Speaks: Can you be brave enough, my other self, to wipe my bloody face?
Where is my face, you ask?
At home whenever eyes fill up with tears, at work when tensions rise, on playgrounds, in the slums, the courts, the hospital, the jails – where suffering exists – my face is there. And there I look for you t wipe away my blood and tears.

I reply : Lord, what you ask is hard. It calls for courage and self-sacrifice, and I am weak. Please, give me strength. Don’t let me run away because of fear.
Lord, live in me, act in me, love in me. And not in me alone – in all of us – so that we may reveal no more your bloody but your glorious face on earth.

7 Jesus Falls Again

Christ Speaks: This seventh step, my other self, is one that tests your will. From this fall learn to persevere in doing good.
The time will come when all your efforts seem to fail and you will think, “I can’t go on”.
Then turn to me, my heavy-laden one, and I will give you rest.
Trust me and carry on.

I reply: Give me your courage, Lord. When failure presses heavily on me and I am desolate, stretch out your hand to lift me up.
I know I must not cease, but persevere in doing good.
But help me, Lord. Alone there’s nothing I can do. With you , I can do anything you ask.
I will.

8 Jesus Consoles the Women

Christ Speaks: How often had I longed to take the children of Jerusalem and gather them to me. But they refused.
But now theses women weep for me and my heart mourns for them – mourns for their sorrows that will come.
I comfort those who seek to solace me.
How gentle can you be, my other self? How kind?

I reply: My Jesus, your compassion in your passion is beyond compare.
Lord, teach me, help me learn. When I would snap at those who hurt me with their ridicule, those who misunderstand, or hinder me with some misguided helpfulness, those who intrude upon my privacy – then help me curb my tongue.
May gentleness become my cloak.
Lord, make me kind like you.

9 The Third Fall

Christ Speaks: Completely drained of strength I lie, collapsed, upon the cobblestones. My body cannot move. No blows, no kicks, can rouse it up.
And yet my will is mine. And so is yours.
Know this, my other self, your body may be broken, but no force on earth or in hell can take away your will.
Your will is yours.

I reply: My Lord, I see you take a moment’s rest then rise and stagger on. So I can do because my will is mine.
When all my strength is gone and guilt and self-reproach press me to earth and seem to hold me fast, protect me from the sin of Judas – save me from despair!
Lord, never let me feel that any sin of mine is greather than your love. No matter what my past has been I can begin anew.

10 Jesus Is Stripped

Christ speaks: Behold, my other self, the poorest king who ever lived. Before my creatures I stand stripped. The cross – my death bed – even this is not my own.
Yet who has ever been so rich?
Posessing nothing, I own all – my Father’s love.
If you, too, would own everything, be not solicitous about your food, your clothes, your life.

I reply: My Lord, I offer you my all – whatever I possess, and more, my self.
Detach me from the craving for prestige, position, wealth.
Root out of me all trace of envy of my neighbor who has more than I. Release me from the vice of pride, my longing to exalt myself, and lead me to the lowest place.
May I be poor in spirit, Lord, so that I can be rich in you.

11 Jesus Is Crucified

Christ Speaks: Can you imagine what a crucifixion is?
My executioners stretch my arms; they hold my hand and wrist against the wood and press the nail until it stabs my flesh. Then, with on heavy hammer smash, they drive through – and pain bursts lika a bomb of fire in my brain.
They seize the other arm; and agony again explodes.
Then raising up my knees so that my feet are flat against the wood, they hammer them fast, too.

I reply: My God, I look at you and think: Is my soul worth this much?
What can I give you in return?
I here and now accept for all my life whatever sickness, torment, agony may come. To every cross I touch my lips.
O blessed cross that lets me be – with you – a co-redeemer of humanity.

12 Jesus Dies

Christ Speaks: The cross becomes a pulpit now – “Forgive them Father . . . . .
You will be with me in Paradise . . . . . .
There is your Mother . . . . . . There . . . . . . your son . . . . .I thirst . . . . .
It is complete.”
To speak I have to raise myself by pressing on my wristis and feet, and every move engulfs me in new waves of agony.
And then, when I have borne enough, have emptied my humanity, I let my mortal life deptart.

I reply: My Jesus, God, what can I say or do?
I offer you my death with all its pains, accepting now the time and kind of death in store for me. Not by a single instant would I lengthen my life’s span.
I offer you my death for my own sins and for those of all humanity.
My God! My God! Forsake us not. We know not what we do.

13 Jesus Is Taken Down

Christ Speaks: The sacrifice is done. Yes, my Mass is complete; but not my mothers’s and not yours, my other self.
My Mother still must cradle in her arms the lifeless body of the son she bore. You, too, must part from those you love, and grief will come to you.
In your bereavements think of this: A multitude of souls were saved by Mary’s sharing in my Calvary. Your grief can also be the price of souls.

I reply: I beg you, Lord, help me accept the partings that much come – from friends who go away, my children leaving home, and most of all, my dear ones when you shall call them to yourself.
Then give me grace to say: “As it has pleased you, Lord, to take them home, I bow to your most holy will. And if by just one word I might restore their lives against your will, I would not speak.” Grant them eternal joy.

14 Jesus is Buried

Christ speaks: So ends my mortal life.
But now another life begins for Mary, and for Magdalen, for Peter and for John and for you.
My life’s work is done. My work within and through my church must now commence.
I look to you, my other self.
Day in, day out, from this time forth, by my apostle – victim – saint.

I reply: My Jesus, Lord, you know my spirit is as willing as my flesh is weak.
The teaching you could not impart, the sufferings you could not bear, the works of love you could not do in your short life on earth, let me impart, and bear, and do through you.
But, I am nothing Lord. Help me!

Christ Speaks: I told you at the start, my other self, my life was not complete until I crowned it by my death. Your “way” is not complete unless you crown it by your life.
Accept each moment as it comes to you, with faith and trust that all that happens has my mark on it. A simple fiat, this is all it takes; a breathing in your hear, “I will it, Lord.”
So seek me not in far off places, I am lose at hand. Your workbench, office, kitchen, these are altars where you offer love. And I am with you there.

Go now! Take up your cross and with your life complete your way.

Clarence Enzler

Jesus Loves you BUT I am his favorite!

2008-02-23T08:56:00.002-05:00

While watching a little TV on Sunday, I watched a
church in Atlanta honoring one of its senior pastors who had been retired many
years. He was 92 at that time and I wondered why the church even bothered to ask
the old gentleman to preach at that age.

After a warm welcome, introduction of this speaker, and as the applause quieted
down, he rose from his high back chair and walked slowly, with great effort and
a sliding gate to the podium. Without a note or written paper of any kind he
placed both hands on the pulpit to steady himself and then quietly and slowly he
began to speak....

"When I was asked to come here today and talk to you, your pastor asked me to
tell you what was the greatest lesson ever learned in my 50-odd years of
preaching. I thought about it for a few days and boiled it down to just one
thing that made the most difference in my life and sustained me through all my
trials. The one thing that I could always rely on when tears and heartbreak and
pain and fear and sorrow paralyzed me... the only thing that would comfort was
this verse.........

"Jesus loves me this I know.
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong,
we are weak but He is strong.....
Yes, Jesus loves me...
The Bible tells me so."

When he finished, the church was quiet. You actually could hear his foot steps
as he shuffled back to his chair. I don't believe I will ever forget it.

A pastor once stated, "I always noticed that it was the adults who chose the
children's hymn 'Jesus Loves Me' (for the children of course) during a hymn
sing, and it was the adults who sang the loudest because I could see they knew
it the best."

"Senior version of Jesus Loves Me"

Here is a new version just for us who have white hair or no hair at all. For us
over middle age (or even those almost there) and all you others check out this
newest version of Jesus Loves Me.

JESUS LOVES ME

Jesus loves me, this I know,
Though my hair is white as snow
Though my sight is growing dim,
Still He bids me trust in Him.
(CHORUS)
YES, JESUS LOVES ME.. YES, JESUS LOVES ME..
YES, JESUS LOVES ME, FOR THE BIBLE TELLS ME SO.

Though my steps are oh, so slow,
With my hand in His I'll go
On through life, let come what may,
He'll be there to lead the way.
(CHORUS)

When the nights are dark and long,
In my heart He puts a song.
Telling me in words so clear,
"Have no fear, for I am near."
(CHORUS)

When my work on earth is done,
An d life's victories have been won.
He will take me home above,
Then I'll understand His love
(CHORUS)

I love Jesus, does He know?
Have I ever told Him so?
Jesus loves to hear me say,
That I love Him every day.
(CHORUS)

God bless you!

Cornea Transplant - looking through the eye of a donor

2008-02-22T08:52:00.001-05:00

Three years ago I had a corneal transplant, in many ways it was a life changing experience. Because of an injury I received at birth I had known for many years that one day I would either be totally blind or have to have surgery. So, it came as no real surprise when the decision was made that the time had come for the transplant. The surgery is done as an outpatient, is painless and other than the fact that you are awake the entire time is pretty uneventful. The recovery time is hellish and seems to last forever. The stitches to attach the new cornea remain in your eye for a year or more and every time you blink you can feel them. Needless to say I made it through the surgery and recovery, while life changing this is not what changed me the most.
In order for me to receive a new cornea someone had to make the decision to be an organ donor. Yes, someone had given me the ultimate gift. Before death they made the unselfish decision to donate their organs so that others could have a better life.
When I was told that it was time for the transplant I delayed the surgery for several months in order to get my “mind” right. I am sure most of you will not understand the thought process I had to go through in order to accept this precious gift. All that I could think was – someone has to die so that I can see. While I was grateful that the procedure was available it was still not easy to come to the point that I could accept it graciously. This was not life or death surgery like a heart transplant and I think that maybe why it was so hard for me to accept – I could live with site in only one eye.
After much prayer I did receive the transplant and every day I am thankful to the person that made the decision to be an organ donor.
If you are not an organ donor please consider taking the necessary steps to become one. Thank goodness in death we will not need any of our earthly “parts” but there just might be someone that is still on this journey that does.

Remember Me

"The day will come when my body will lie upon a white sheet neatly tucked under four corners of a mattress located in a hospital busily occupied with the living and the dying. At a certain moment a doctor will determine that my brain has ceased to function and that, for all intents and purposes, my life has stopped.
"When that happens, do not attempt to instill artificial life into my body by the use of a machine. And don't call this my deathbed. Let it be called the Bed of Life and let my body be taken from it to help others lead fuller lives.
"Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby's face or love in the eyes of a woman.
"Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless pain,
"Give my blood to the teen-ager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.
"Give my kidneys to one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week
"Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a clay to make a crippled child walk.
"Explore every comer of my brain. Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday, a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.
"Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.
"If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weaknesses and all prejudice against my fellow man.
"Give my sins to the devil, give my soul to God.
"If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you.
"If you do all I have asked, I will live forever!"
-- by Robert N. Test.

Lord - it's me again

2008-02-13T21:36:00.004-05:00

Our Father

Who Art In Heaven.

Yes?

Don't interrupt me. I'm praying.

But -- you called ME!

Called you?
No! , I didn't call you.
I'm praying.
Our Father who art in Heaven.

There -- you did it again!

Did what?

Called ME. You said,
"Our Father who art in Heaven"
Well, here I am. What's on your mind?

But I didn't mean anything by it.
I was, you know, just saying my prayers for the day.
I always say the Lord's Prayer. It makes me feel good,
kind of like fulfilling a duty.

Well, all right.
Go on.

Okay, Hallowed be thy name . .

Hold it right there. What do you mean by that? By what?

By "Hallowed be thy name"?
It means, it means . . good grief,
I don't know what it means!
How in the world should I know?
It's just a part of the prayer.
By the way, what does it mean?

It means honored, holy, wonderful.

Hey, that makes sense.
I never thought about what 'hallowed' meant before.
Thanks.
Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done,
on earth as it is in Heaven.

Do you really mean that? !

Sure, why not?

What are you doing about it?

Doing? Why, nothing, I guess.
I just think it would be kind of neat if you got control,
of everything down here like you have up there.
We're kinda in a mess down here you know

Yes, I know; but, have I got control of you?

Well, I go to church.

That isn't what I asked you.
What about your bad temper?
You've really got a problem there, you know.
And then there's the way you spend your money --
all on yourself.
And what about the kind of books you read?

Now hold on just a minute!
Stop picking on me!
I'm just as good as some of the rest of those people at church!

Excuse ME. I thought you were praying
for My will to be done. If that is to happen,
it will have to start with the ones
who are praying for it.
Like you -- for example.

Oh, all right. I guess I do have some hang-ups.
Now that you mention it, I could probably name some others.

So could I

I haven't thought about it very much until now,
but I really would like to cut out some of those things.
I would like to, you know, be really free.

Good. Now we're getting somewhere. We'll work together -- You and ME.
I'm proud of You.

Look, Lord, if you don't mind,
I need to finish up here.
This is taking a lot longer than it usually does.
Give us this day, our daily bread.

You need to cut out the bread.
You're overweight as it is.

Hey, wait a minute! What is this?
Here I was doing my religious duty,
and all of a sudden you break in
and remind me of all my hang-ups.

Praying is a dangerous thing.
You just might get what you ask for.
Remember, you called ME -- and here I am.
It's too late to stop now.
Keep praying. ( . . pause . )
Well, go on.

I'm scared to.

Scared? Of what?

I know what you'll say.

Try ME.

Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us.

What about Ann?

See? I knew it!
I knew you would bring her up!
Why, Lord, she's told lies about me, spread stories.
She never paid back the money she owes me.
I've sworn to get even with her!

But -- your prayer --
What about your prayer?

I didn't -- mean it.

Well, at least you're honest
But, it's quite a load carrying around all that bitterness
and resentment isn't it?

Yes, but I'll feel better as soon as I get even with her.
Boy, have I got some plans for her.
She'll wish she had never been born.

No, you won't feel any better.
You'll feel worse.
Revenge isn't sweet.
You know how unhappy you are --
Well, I can change that.

You can? How?

Forgive Ann.
Then, I'll forgive you;
And the hate and the sin,
will be Ann's problem -- not yours.
You will have settled the problem
as far as you are concerned.

Oh, you know, you're right.
You always are.
And more than I want revenge,
I want to be right with You . . (sigh).
All right all right . .
I forgive her.

There now! Wonderful! How do you feel?

Hmmmm. Well, not bad. Not bad at all!
In fact, I feel pretty great!
You know, I don't think I'll go to bed uptight tonight.
I haven't been getting much rest, you know.

Yeah, I know.
But, you're not through with your prayer are you? Go on.

Oh, all right.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from evil.

Good! Good! I'll do that.
Just don't put yourself in a place
where you can be tempted.

What do you mean by that?

You know what I mean.

Yeah. I know.

Okay! .

Go ahead. Finish your prayer.

For Thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory forever.
Amen.

Do you know what would bring me glory --
What would really make me happy?

No, but I'd like to know.
I want to please you now.
I've really made a mess of things.
I want to truly follow you.
I can see now how great that would be.
So, tell me . . .How do I make you happy?

YOU just did.

The best is yet to come - so keep your fork

2008-02-01T21:46:00.000-05:00

KEEP YOUR FORK

There was a woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live.

So as she was getting her things "in order", she contacted her pastor and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.

She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.

The woman also requested to be buried with her favorite Bible. Everything was in order and the pastor was preparing to leave when the woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.

"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.

"What's that?"came the pastor's reply.

"This is very important," the woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."

The pastor stood looking at the woman, not knowing quite what to say.

"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the woman asked.

"Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the pastor.

The woman explained. "In all my years of attending church socials and potluck dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say, 'Keep your fork.' It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!"

"So, I just want people to see me there in the casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder, "What's with the fork?"

Then, I want you to tell them:

"Keep your fork....The best is yet to come".

The pastor's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the woman good-bye.

He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did.

She KNEW that something better was coming. At the funeral people were walking by the woman's casket and they saw the pretty dress she was wearing and her favorite Bible and the fork placed in her right hand.

Over and over, the pastor heard the question,
"What's with the fork?"

And over and over he smiled.

During his message, the pastor told the people of the conversation he had with the woman shortly before she died.

He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The pastor told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably would not be able to stop thinking about it either.

He was right.

So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you oh so gently, that the best is yet to come.

To my sisters in the Lord -

2008-01-31T15:30:00.000-05:00

T o my sisters in the Lord...

There comes a time in every woman's life when she has to take a close look at herself. Not at her circumstance, not at what she did, not how unfair life is, or at who made you do it. She has to just look at herself in all her glory and imperfection. Have you ever admired a woman who has been through changes in her life? Or have you made up in your mind that she is just messed up. Before you make this mistake, take a closer look. A woman who has endured the most unusual life is someone of wisdom, someone who has been chosen by God to go through things that have made her stronger.

Think of all the great women in the Bible: Mary Magdalene, Ruth and Naomi, the woman with an issue of blood, and Esther, to name a few. Mary was a prostitute, a very uneasy woman. But by the time Jesus was done with her, she was His closest follower. Esther was unfortunate in marrying an abusive man, but by the time God was done with her, she had married one of the wealthiest men in the land.

Women are so quick to beat the next one down instead of trying to hold her up. Before you wonder, 'What's up with her?' ask yourself, 'What's up with me?' That woman could be my mother, sister, aunt, in-law, stepmother, niece, grandmother, great-grandmother, neighbor, friend, or co-worker, etc. That woman could be ME.

Women are the carriers of life, not the channels of death. Let's build and encourage each other, as did Ruth and Naomi. Encourage and love, forgive and forget.

May the peace and love of Christ be upon you!

Lord, my cross is too heavy

2008-01-26T13:36:00.001-05:00

We complain about the cross we bear but don't realize
it is preparing us for the dip in the road that God can see and we can't.
Whatever your cross, whatever your pain,
there will always be sunshine, after the rain....
Perhaps you may stumble, perhaps e ven fall;
But God's always ready, to answer your call....
He knows every heartache, sees every tear,
a word from His lips, can calm every fear...
Your sorrows may linger, throughout the night,
But suddenly vanish, dawn's early light...
The Savior is waiting, somewhere above,
to give you His grace, and send you His love...

God promises a safe landing, not a calm passage.

We never know who we will touch - Hospice

2008-01-20T21:23:00.000-05:00

I spent the day with an old friend that is making her journey for this life to the next. Yes, she has family but it seems they are all too busy to sit by the bed of a old women that wants nothing more than to go home to be with her Lord. Everyone wants to be around when a baby is born but no one wants to hold the hand of someone that is dying. I am not passing judement on anyone, everyone handles death in their own way. I consider it a privilage to be a part of a persons final journey. We never know what way we will touch someone unless we are open to where God leads us. God does not always call those that are prepared but He will prepare those He calls.

When I got home this afternoon a bit upset that people refuse to do what is right for others I found this email in my box. Guess God knew what I needed!
When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window.

Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, and then drive away.
But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 90's stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.
"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness. "It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated".
"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, and then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".
I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. "I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I don't have very long." I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, "I'm tired. Let's go now"
We drove in silence to the address she had given me.It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are other passengers," I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.
"Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, and then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.

Thank you, my friend...
Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might as well dance

Life as a Deacon's wife is not dull - to say the least!

2008-01-12T10:49:00.000-05:00

I decide to start off the New Year with a light hearted blog. I have written before about my many adventures as a Deacon’s wife. Well, Sunday night Mass was definitely an adventure! I was enlisted to be the alter server (the person that assist the deacon and priest during Mass, we wear a white alb and sit off to the side of the altar). This is not a problem as we often do not have anyone show up on Sunday night – I don’t blame the kids that are assigned this duty – THEY CAN”T DRIVE.
It was the feast of the Holy Family and Father wanted to use the incensor – LOTS of incense. Father’s theory is “if they ain’t coughing we ain’t used enough incense”. We have a beautiful new incensor but Father prefers the old one. I was in charge of the incensor – the coals had been lit and we were ready to head down the aisle. Father was giving me instruction on how he wanted me to swing the incensory as we entered the church. He wanted me to use the old 1-2-3 loop over top. I told him Tom would have a heart attack if I did that; just let me use the standard side to side. Farther said just watch me do it – it is not hard. With that he goes 1-2-3 and as the incensor rounded the top of the loop it FLEW off the end of the chain, hit the floor the coals jumped out and started rolling down the middle of the sacristy leaving a trail of burning carpet along the way. Father is already vested and could not get his alb moving in the right direction to be of much help. I knew not to grab the incensor or attempt to pick up the coals bare handed. So, I am running around trying to find the bucket we use to put Holy Water in – my greatest fear was that the smoke from the carpet would set of the sprinkler system. Can’t imagine what the folks in the pews would have thought as they sit there prayerfully waiting for mass to start and suddenly it is raining - indoors!
I finally found something to put water in, doused the five spots that were smoking in the carpet. I grabbed a towel and started trying to soak up some of the ash and water while the sacristan is jumping around yelling “That is one of the good towels; don’t use that one it is a good towel”. At this point I would have ripped off my alb and used it to assure that the FIRE was out. Once satisfied that the sacristy would not erupt in flames we headed out to begin mass.
The music begins to play – I am carrying the cross and as I take my first step down the aisle Father whispers “I am going to tell Father (pastor) that you started the fire”. Well, I almost tripped over my own feet – then he finishes with “Cause he loves you more than me”.
We made it through Mass without any further incidents. I emerged with yet another story to add to my raptor of “Life as a Deacon’s wife”!

Did you follow a star to a empty stable - are you wise enough to know what to do

2008-01-07T10:48:00.000-05:00

This is the notes from Sunday's Homily - I was very moved by what Fr. Ed said. I think we so often follow our own stat and end up at a empty stable and have no idea what to do. In no way could I inprove on Father's words.

What a disappointment the Magi must have experienced when they looked down on
Bethlehem from a nearby Judean hill after having traveled miles by camel. They had
followed a star, expecting a palace or perhaps a stately mansion but discover that the star had come to rest over a stable. Following stars and finding stables is common in our human experience. Haven’t you at some time in your life fixed your gaze on some lofty star only to find it led to a stable?

A young man graduates from high school full of great dreams and expectations about
the future only to wake up one day and discover himself enmeshed in the very
drudgery that he had promised himself he would avoid.

A woman comes to retirement age. She thinks of all the good things she's going to be
able to do. After a few weeks, however, she begins to discover that retirement is not
exactly what she thought it would be.

At some time all of us in our lives follow a star only to discover a stable. The
problem is how to turn that stable into a moment of salvation. What is it that enables wise men to turn the stables of life into victory?

First, they look for God in that stable. We could not have blamed the Magi if they
had just turned back toward home when they saw their journey’s end in a stable.
Joseph, the favored son of the patriarch Isaac from the Old Testament story, with a
coat of many colors was kidnapped from his home and betrayed by his brothers, sold
to slave traders, and put in prison. Can one suppose that during all that humiliation he could see where God was taking him? Joseph turned it all around and eventually rose in the hierarchy of Egypt to become the pharaoh’s advisor. When Joseph’s brothers stood before him in fear, he calmed them with these words: “You meant it for evil, but God meant it for good.”

Can you look at your own disappointments and see God’s power and purpose? Look
for God in that stable?

Second, the wise men offer their best to God.
Renoir, the French artist, was afflicted with acute rheumatism, and suffered most of
his life with that incurable malady. For many years he was forced to paint while
sitting in a chair. A friend noticed one day that the artist was forcing himself to paint, through almost blinding pain. “You have painted enough,” said the friend. “You are established as one of the top artists of France and Europe. Why must you go on,torturing yourself like this?” Renoir hardly looked up at him from his canvas. He said, “The pain passes, but the beauty remains.”

Third, because of what happens in the stable, the wise men took a different direction home. This is always what happens when you encounter God and attempt to give him your best; he will chart out a new direction for your life. Disappointment can be the best thing that ever happens to you if it helps you to grow. The difference between mediocrity and greatness is that those who are great learn from their experience; when they’ve dusted themselves off, they’re better people for their experience.

Have you followed a star only to arrive at a stable? If then, look for God there. You
may be surprised by what you find. Offer your best to God and He will use it in his
Kingdom. When you leave, go home by another way; don’t do what the Herods in
this world ask you to do. These are the secrets of wise men of every age when they
follow a star and find a stable.

I would like to close with a poem, titled appropriately “Anyway”.
• People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Love them anyway!
• If you do good, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Do good
anyway!
• If you are successful, you will win false friends and true enemies. Succeed
anyway!
• The good you do today will be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway!
• Honesty and frankness will make you vulnerable. Be honest and frank anyway!
• The biggest people with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest
people with the smallest minds. Think big anyway!
• People favor underdogs but follow only top dogs. Fight for some underdogs
anyway!
• What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway!
• People really need help but may attack you if you help them. Help people
anyway!
• Give the world the best you have and you will get kicked in the teeth. Give the
world the best you have anyway!

Despite the setbacks, disillusionments and changes thrown in their path, the story of
the Magi is of persistence, dedication and flexibility with a profound measure of
faith; not bad for three individuals who had no vested interested in a Messiah
themselves. How good a Magi would you have been
Fr. Ed

We all fall down -

2008-01-01T17:21:00.000-05:00

We have all heard the expression “You never get a second chance to make a first impression”. While this might be true in most cases it is not so with God. God is the only person that I know that will allow us to make a second impression as many times as necessary. No matter how many times we say “I promise” then fail to keep that promise God forgives us, welcomes us back and allows us to once again make a “first impression”. The difference between us and many of the Saints is that while they continued to fall down along their journey they always got up – often we fall down and give up.
My challenge for you in 2008 is “keep getting up”. St. Peter has always been my hero! He was always the one to answer Jesus call first and the first to fall down and still he was given the keys to heaven – this give me hope that I have a chance to one day sit in the presences of my Lord.
Happy New Years and my God grant you a special portion of His grace in the coming year.

Look back and thank God.
Look forward and trust God.
Look around and serve God.
Look within and find God!"

"I asked God, 'How do I get the best out of life?' God said,
'Face your past without regrets. Handle your present with
confidence; and prepare for the future without fear!'"

I don't celebrate Christmas

2007-12-16T14:13:00.000-05:00

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a
reason to celebrate.
He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the
door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're
busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty, "Stew ... made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked.
"Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken."

George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new tires." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do.
Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln . They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct
tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an
ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right
through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and
winced at the same time

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pee shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got
repossessed last week ..."

George handed the gun to the cop. Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes
us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."

"Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?," the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said, "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry.
The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a greatdoctor.
The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists.
The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."
~ author unknown

Be careful little lips -

2007-12-13T10:07:00.000-05:00

Be careful little lips what you say –
Our 3 year old grandson “preformed” in his school Christmas Play this week. I am not much of a Christmas person. Don’t get me wrong I love the “reason for the season” the birth of our Lord – but the whole retail part of Christmas makes me a bit nuts. I love to give people “stuff” but I do it whenever I see something I think someone would like. My husband says I give gifts all year because I am worse than any little kids about trying to keep a present a secrete. It is just when I find something I know someone will love I just can’t wait to give it to them!
I am not good at receiving gifts. I never feel worthy. I have no idea why guess I need therapy. The only time I have ever felt comfortable getting gifts was at my baby shower. My justification was that the “stuff” was not for me. It makes my family and friends nuts. “What do you want for Christmas” is met with “I have everything I need”? So, they are left to wonder the mall trying to come up with something they think I will like. I have received some “strange” gifts over the years, but whose fault is that? On the other hand I have received many wonderful gifts that I would never have thought about buying for myself. Then there is that occasional gift that really touches my heart because I know the person put much thought into giving me something they thought I would enjoy. I received such an unexpected gift yesterday from a friend. It is a beautiful book of the Saints. There are Saints for everyday with such beautiful pictures. I taught a class on The Saints Sunday! This person is not Catholic making this gift even more special.
I have to say that watching a bunch of 3, 4 and 5 year old kids perform the story of Christmas will be the best gift I will receive this year. Oh, there was the kids that cried, the ones that had to go “potty” in the middle of a song. One group did a song on hand bells; half the bells were flung across the stage on the first ring (maybe they need to rethink those gloves). There was Mary at the manager getting a bit bored, so she hiked up her robe propped her elbows on her knees an revealed the fact that Mary was wearing cowboy booths. Hunter’s class of 3 year olds was the youngest to perform. The laughter started as soon as they began to climb on stage each one trying to make sure the person next to them was standing in the right place. When they realized all their family was there the waving began! They recited their Bible verse and sang the song about Little Lips watch what you say because the Father up above is looking down below. Each kid trying to “out” sing the others, so it was a bit of a scream fest! The grand finally involved all the kids coming out dressed in different costumes and singing several songs together. Hunter’s class was dressed as sheep. It was just too cute for words. I make Hunter sing that song for me as often as he will cooperate and I say Merry Christmas to me!
This year if you don’t have much of the Christmas Spirit find a nearby Christian School or church that is having a Christmas Play and attend. If this does not put you in the true Spirit of Christmas then there may be no hope for you!

I am not and don't really mind

2007-12-06T20:29:00.000-05:00

The other day a young person asked me how I felt about being old. I was taken aback, for I do not think of myself as old. Upon seeing my reaction, she was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question, and I would ponder it, and let her know. Old Age, I decided, is a gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend. I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant. I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon? I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)

The Wooden bowl

2007-12-05T19:36:00.000-05:00

I guarantee you will remember the tale of the Wooden
Bowl tomorrow, a week from now, a month from now, a year from now.

A frail old man went to live with his son,
daughter-in-law, and four-year old grandson. The old man's hands
trembled, his eyesight was blurred, and his step faltered. The family ate
together at the table.
But the elderly grandfather's shaky hands and
failing sight made eating difficult. Peas rolled off his spoon onto the floor.
When he grasped the glass, milk spilled on the tablecloth.

The son and daughter-in-law became irritated with
the mess. 'We must do something about father,' said the son. 'I've had
enough of his spilled milk, noisy eating, and food on the floor.'

So the husband and wife set a small tab le in the
corner. There, Grandfather ate alone while the rest of the family
enjoyed dinner.
Since Grandfather had broken a dish or two, his food
was served in a wooden bowl!

When the family glanced in Grandfather's direction,
sometime he had a tear in his eye as he sat alone. Still, the only
words the couple had for him were sharp admonitions when he dropped a
fork or spilled food.

The four-year-old watched it all in silence. One
evening before supper, the father noticed his son playing with wood scraps
on the floor. He asked the child sweetly, 'What are you making?'

Just as sweetly, the boy responded, 'Oh, I am making
a little bowl for you and Mama to eat your food in when I grow up.'
The four-year-old smiled and went back to work.
The words so struck the parents so that they were
speechless. Then tears started to stream down their cheeks. Though
no word was spoken, both knew what must be done.

That evening the husband took Grandfather's hand and
gently led him back to the family table. For the remainder of his days
he ate every meal with the family. And for some reason, neither
husband nor wife seemed to care any longer when a fork was dropped, milk
spilled, or the tablecloth soiled.
‘
On a positive note, I've learned that, no matter
what happens, how bad it seems today, life does go on, and it will be
better tomorrow.

I've learned that you can tell a lot about a person
by the way he/she handles four things: a rainy day, the elderly, lost
luggage, and tangled Christmas tree lights.

I've learned that, regardless of your relationship
with your parents, you'll miss them when they're gone from your life.

I've learned that making a 'living' is not the same
thing as making a 'life.' I've learned that life sometimes gives you a second
chance.

I've learned that you shouldn't go through life with
a catcher's mitt on both hands. You need to be able to throw something
back.

I've learned that if you pursue happiness, it will
elude you. But if you focus on God, your family, your friends, the needs of
others, your work and doing the very best you can, happiness will find
you.

I've learned that whenever I decide something with
an open heart, I usually make the right decision.

I've learned that even when I have pains, I don' t
have to be one.

I've learned that every day, you should reach out
and touch someone.
People love that human touch -- holding hands, a
warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.

I've learned that I still have a lot to learn!

Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow.
Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend

No more with me - slow down we will be old one day!

2007-11-27T17:21:00.000-05:00

"I'm sorry. Please forgive me!
I don't mean to hold you up,"
he said as he struggled to get off the escalator.

I'll admit to it. There have been times when walking or driving behind an older person I've gotten impatient and upset. I've huffed and zoomed around them because I was in a hurry to get nowhere. Perhaps I'm more aware of it
now because I see myself there one day soon. Today I saw myself in this old man's shoes and it caused me to slow down, stop and ask for his forgiveness.

He was about five or six people ahead of me. I was in a hurry and saw him as an obstacle. I've seen people get off
the end of an escalator and stop dead in their tracks, gather their things and suddenly there's a pile up of angry people behind them. You can't stop an escalator full of people behind you. Like the Energizer bunny, they keep on goin'.

This man was well aware of the challenge.
He tri ed desperately to step aside. Fumbling with his
small packages, struggling to gain his footing, you
could see how troubling this was for him.
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me! I don't mean to hold
you up," he said as he struggled to get off the escalator.

I suddenly saw this in a whole new light. It was like I
was watching my future. I felt sorry for him. I felt sick to
my stomach because this man was apologizing to everyone,
when we should have been helping him and calming
his fears.

One by one, people zipped around him. I heard a few angry comments whispered as one lady passed by him.

I saw me.

By the time I got to him he was just about steady on his feet.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know there was more," he said.

"No, sir. No more with me," I said. This really hit me hard.
I realized right then how sad it was that the world was in such a hurry. That, of course, included me. But...no more with me. Count me out .

This wonderful man paid his dues. For whatever time he had spent on this earth, he most likely walked many rough roads and too many important miles. Now he should be apologizing for moving slower?

My heart ached as I looked into his eyes. I wished that
I could see what he had seen all those years. His face
weathered from life itself, was creased

And wrinkled. The small soft pockets under his eyes and the gentle lines that curved up and around them told me he had many happy moments, too. Those were traces left behind from laughter and a smiling, happy man.

"My friend, can I help you with those things?" I asked.

Hesitant at first, he finally said, "Well, yes, thank you!"

I placed my hand under his left arm and walked with
him a safe distance away from the rush of people.

"So what are you shopping for, sir?"

"Oh, just a little something for my neighbor. She's a young mother raising kids on her own. She's alway s so nice to me.
I thought a box of candy for Mother's Day..." he said, stopping suddenly as he searched his inside pocket of his sport coat.

"Do you need something?" I asked.

"Oh, no. Here. I think I have it right here. I always carry them with me," he said. Then pulling out a hand full of papers he shuffled through them and handed me a business card that read:

"John A. Pomicter Friend to all...enemy to no one! I said
a prayer today and you were the answer. Thank you!"

"That's for you," he said. "Thanks for stopping to
help an old man."

"My friend, you helped me. I discovered that I was
unhappy with the world and I was part of the problem.
Now I'll be part of the solution. No more with me!"

"Then this was meant to be," he said smiling.

"You know God sends me gifts every day and always at
least one special person. You were my gift for today!
Let's go get some chocolates, my Friend."

The Straight and Narrow isn't so straight sometimes

2007-11-23T11:40:00.000-05:00

I am trying to be the person my dog thinks I am! I am an animal love and have managed to surround myself with a varity of pets all my life. Currently I have a Papillon – Toby. Bar none Toby is more attached to me than any previous creature I have shared my journey with. He watches my every move, sits beside the tub while I take a shower, will ignore an entire group of kids, dogs and people and stay at my side. Toby often travels with me, he is the perfect traveling companion, he never demands that I go to a certain place to eat and does not complain if I decide to go to be at 8pm. He never meets a strange but will only allow them to pet him if I pick him up first. If I have to leave him at home the greeting I receive when I return is worthy of royalty. If I am having a bad day and happen to yell, Toby is quick to forgive and welcome me back into his world.
I am sure most of you know where this is going – Our relationship with God is much like the one we share with a loving and loyal pet. God loves us above all thing’s, he is always watching us as though we are the only person in this vast universe. If we happen to take a side trip along our journey “life”, He is always there to welcome us back – no questions ask – and it does not matter how long we have been gone.
Being a Deacon’s wife often makes me approachable to people that will not talk to my husband or the priest. I am a well worn traveler along the road of life and it shows – so people will openly share with me life stories that they are “ashamed” to tell anyone else. Most of the time once they speak it out loud once it is easier to then discuss it with someone that can deliver spiritual direction.
I was privileged to be present when a friend was talking to our priest about his long absence from any type of organized religion. My friend was concerned that God would hold his “diversion” from the straight and narrow against him. I think this is the way most of us view God – he is sitting in heaven with a list and keeps track of our sins and good deeds and we are forever trying to keep the scale in balance. Farther assured him that God was not concerned with how long he had been gone – because God was always right behind him waiting for my friend to turn around – and that God’s only concern was that he had turned around and the amount of time did not matter.
My heart is heavy today because I meet so many people that feel that they have been “off the straight and narrow” too long to enter the narrow gate again. It is never too late to turn around.
OK – I know this is a pretty heavy blog for me – but it has been laid on my heart to share – hope it is received by the person intended.

Happy Thanksgivings! See you at Barbra Jeans

2007-11-22T10:31:00.000-05:00

When I was a child Thanksgivings was a holiday that made no sense to me. The women spent days cooking and getting things ready. Then everybody sat down to eat and within an hour it is all over. The men would go out and sit on the porch with their pants unbuttoned and talk about fishing and hunting and the women spent the rest of the day cleaning up the kitchen. The kids were left to find our own entertainment. Being the youngest I was often the source of everyone’s fun! So, as a kid Thanksgivings was nothing to be thankful for or excited about. As I grew older I am sorry to say the holiday still held no meaning. As most of you know I am not big on cooking and I sure ain’t going to cook for a bunch folks to consume and leave me to clean up. As long as there is a Golden Coral close by I figure we are good to go!
Now that I am “old” I finally figured out the meaning of Thanksgivings! Oh, don’t get me wrong I still don’t get the whole cooking thing so don’t show up at my house expecting to find the smells of the season drifting through the air. There will be no Norman Rockwell moment with us all gathered around the table. We will be dinning at Barbra Jeans on St. Simons Island this year.
What I have figured out is that Thanksgivings is truly a wonderful day to spent with family. To share memories of days long passed and our hopes for days to come. Most of all I have learned that Thanksgiving is the perfect day to spend a little extra time in the presents of God. I am truly blessed with worldly “stuff” and I know that it is only through God’s loving hands that I have received these blessings. So, I will seal a few minutes today and spend it in Thanksgivings with my Lord, thanking Him for all that I am and all that I will ever be.
Today why don’t you take a few minutes and share with God all those things you are thankful for. And it never hurts to share those things with you family, too often we forget to tell those we are most thankful for how we feel.

Old dogs can teach new tricks

2007-11-09T21:44:00.000-05:00

"Watch out! You nearly broad-sided that car!" My father yelled at me. "Can't you do anything right?" Those words hurt worse than blows. I turned my head toward the elderly man in the seat beside me, daring me to challenge him. A lump rose in my throat as I averted my eyes. I wasn't prepared for another battle.

"I saw the car, Dad. Please don't yell at me when I'm driving." My voice was measured and steady, sounding far calmer than I really felt. Dad glared at me, then turned away and settled back.

At home I left Dad in front of the television and went outside. To collect my thoughts. Dark, heavy clouds hung in the air with a promise of rain. The rumble of distant thunder seemed to echo my inner turmoil.

What could I do about him?

Dad had been a lumberjack in Washington and Oregon. He had enjoyed being outdoors and had reveled in pitting his strength against the forces of nature. He had entered grueling lumberjack competitions, and had placed often. The shelves in his house were filled with trophies that attested to his prowess.

The years marched on relentlessly. The first time he couldn't lift a heavy log, he joked about it; but later that same day I saw him outside alone, straining to lift it. He became irritable whenever anyone teased him about his advancing age, or when he couldn't do something he had done as a younger man.

Four days after his sixty-seventh birthday, he had a heart attack. An ambulance sped him to the hospital while a paramedic administered CPR to keep blood and oxygen flowing.

At the hospital, Dad was rushed into an operating room. He was lucky; he survived. But something inside Dad died. His zest for life was gone. He obstinately refused to follow doctors orders. Suggestions and offers of help were turned aside with sarcasm and insults. The number of visitors thinned, then finally stopped altogether. Dad was left alone.

My husband, Rick, and I asked Dad to come live with us on our small farm. We hoped the fresh air and rustic atmosphere would help him adjust. Within a week after he moved in, I regretted the invitation. It seemed nothing was satisfactory. He criticized everything I did. I became frustrated and moody. Soon I was taking my pent-up anger out on Rick. We began to bicker and argue.

Alarmed, Rick sought out our pastor and explained the situation. The clergyman set up weekly counseling appointments for us. At the close of each session he prayed, asking God to soothe Dad's troubled mind. But, the months wore on and God was silent..

A raindrop struck my cheek. I looked up into the gray sky. Somewhere up there was "God." Although I believe a Supreme Being had created the universe, I had difficulty believing that God cared about the tiny human beings on this earth. I was tired of waiting for a God who did not answer.

Something had to be done and it was up to me to do it. The next day I sat down with the phone book and methodically called each of the mental health clinics listed in the Yellow Pages. I explained my problem in vain to each of the sympathetic voices that answered.

Just when I was giving up hope, one of the voices suddenly exclaimed, "I just read something that might help you! Let me go get the article." I listened as she read. The article described a remarkable study done at a nursing home. All of the patients were under treatment for chronic depression. Yet their attitudes had improved dramatically when they were given responsibility for a dog.

I drove to the animal shelter that afternoon. After I filled out a questionnaire, a uniformed officer led me to the kennels. The odor of disinfectant stung my nostrils as I moved down the row of pens. Each contained five to seven dogs. Long-haired dogs, curly-haired dogs, black dogs, spotted dogs - all jumped up, trying to reach me. I studied each one but rejected one after the other for various reasons, too big, too small, too much hair. As I neared the last pen a dog in the shadows of the far corner struggled to his feet, walked to the front of the run and sat down. It was a pointer, one of the dog world's aristocrats. But this was a caricature of the breed. Years had etched his face and muzzle with shades of gray. His hipbones jutted out in lopsided triangles. But it was his eyes that caught and held my attention. Calm and clear, they beheld me unwaveringly. I pointed to the dog. "Can you tell me about him?" The officer looked, then shook his head in puzzlement. "He's a funny one ~ Appeared out of nowhere and sat in front of the gate. We brought him in, figuring someone would be right down to claim him. That was two weeks ago and we've heard nothing. His time is up tomorrow." He gestured helplessly.

As the words sank in I turned to the man in horror. "You mean you're going to kill him?" "Ma'am," he said gently, "that's our policy. We don't have room for every unclaimed dog."

I looked at the pointer again. The calm brown eyes awaited my decision. "I'll take him," I said. I drove home with the dog on the front seat beside me. When I reached the house I honked the horn twice. I was helping my prize out of the car when Dad shuffled onto the front porch.

"Ta-da! Look what I got for you, Dad!" I said excitedly. Dad looked, then wrinkled his face in disgust. "If I had wanted a dog I would have gotten one. And I would have picked out a better specimen than that bag of bones. Keep it! I don't want it." Dad waved his arm scornfully and turned back toward the house.

Anger rose inside me. It squeezed together my throat muscles and pounded into my temples. "You'd better get used to him, Dad. He's staying!" Dad ignored me. "Did you hear me, Dad?" I screamed.!!!!

At those words Dad whirled angrily, his hands clenched at his sides, his eyes narrowed and blazing with hate. We stood glaring at each other like duelists, when suddenly the pointer pulled free from my grasp. He wobbled toward my dad and sat down in front of him. Then slowly, carefully, he raised his paw. Dad's lower jaw trembled as he stared at the uplifted paw. Confusion replaced the anger in his eyes. The pointer waited patiently. Then Dad was on his knees hugging the animal.

It was the beginning of a warm and intimate friendship. Dad named the pointer Cheyenne. Together he and Cheyenne explored the community. They spent long hours walking down dusty lanes. They spent reflective moments on the banks of streams, angling for tasty trout. They even started to attend Sunday services together, Dad sitting in a pew and Cheyenne lying quietly at his feet.

Dad and Cheyenne were inseparable throughout the next three years. Dad's bitterness faded, and he and Cheyenne made many friends. Then late one night I was startled to feel Cheyenne's cold nose burrowing through our bed covers. He had never before come into our bedroom at night.

I woke Rick, put on my robe and ran into my father's room. Dad lay in his bed, his face serene; but his spirit had left quietly sometime during the night.

Two days later my shock and grief deepened when I discovered Cheyenne lying dead beside Dad's bed. I wrapped his still form in the rag rug he had slept on. As Rick and I buried him near a favorite fishing hole, I silently thanked the dog for the help he had given me in restoring Dad's peace of mind.

The morning of Dad's funeral dawned overcast and dreary. This day looks like the way I feel, I thought, as I walked down the aisle to the pews reserved for family. I was surprised to see the many friends Dad and Cheyenne had made filling the church.

The pastor began his eulogy. It was a tribute to both Dad and the dog who had changed his life. And then the pastor turned to Hebrews 13:2. "Be not forgetful to entertain strangers..." "I've often thanked God for sending that angel," he said.

For me, the past dropped into place, completing a puzzle that I had not seen before: the sympathetic voice that had just read the right article ~Cheyenne's unexpected appearance at the animal shelter ~ His calm acceptance and complete devotion to my father ~ and the proximity of their deaths. And suddenly I understood. I knew that God had answered my prayers after all.
------------------------------------------------------

~God will take care of you~
Life is too short for drama and petty things.

Shaking my fist at God

2007-11-03T09:52:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been overcome by the amount of suffering, pain and grief you are surrounded with? I have been told many times that I share too deeply the pain of those around me. How can I not share in the pain of the loss of a sister by my friend? How can my heart not break when I learn that a friend is dying of cancer? How can I not shake my fist at God and question why a friend’s husband drowned in a freak boating accident? How can I not fall to my knees when I hear that a friend’s 16 year old son was killed in their driveway by his own truck? How can I not share in the pain and helplessness that a friend feels as he is forced to watch him Mother slip into the grips of old age? How can I not worry about a friend’s unwed pregnant daughter? How can I not shed tears for a Mother that has to watch her daughter die a little more each day and wonder when the pain will end? What can I offer a daughter that should be enjoying her life but is dealing with her mom losing her job and being evicted? Seeing a Aunt that has been the final care giver for too many family members as they make their journey from this life to the next, pressed into service once agin. Knowing that a friend is worried that her son-in-law is now unemployed. The list goes on.
I cry for and with them, I pray for and with them. I carry them and their pain in my heart as I go through the day. Often times people say “there is nothing I can do” – but we can always pray. Sometimes we feel that is not enough but it is the greatest give that we can give someone that is suffering.
Yes, sometimes I shake my fist at God and ask WHY! Often I get a strange reaction when I tell people that I am mad at God and I told Him so. To my way of thinking, God knows what is in my heart before I speak it so if I am upset the best thing for me to do is talk to Him about it. I have been known to walk around the yard in a heated discussion with God, telling Him just how upset I am. Why, why, why? That is a constant theme in my talks with God from time to time.
I know all things happen for the glory of God and He would never do anything to intentionally to hurt His children. I also believe that God did not cause any of these things to happen. Yes, He allowed them but He did not visit this pain on anyone of these people. I do not believe that the devil did it, yes the devil has power in our life but only if we allow him to.
Then why do I get upset with God you ask. If I believe that He did not do any of this then why am I suddenly blaming it all on Him? I am not blaming Him, questioning why He allows certain things to happen yes. But, most of all I go to God with my fist in the air because it is through Him that I will find comfort and strength to face the pain. After my rants I will listen for that small still voice that will give me the knowing that will allow me to lower my fist. I will receive a special portion of His grace so that I can give comfort and strength to those in need.
I am so blessed now can I not feel the pain of those around me?
I know that when I look at the pain and suffering in my life it is like looking at the back of a tapestry – all I can see is a mass of threads and knots it is not a pretty picture. The red ones that were pain, the yellow ones that were joy, the gold ones that were the times that God carried me, the green ones that was God showing Himself to me in nature –at death I will be allowed to see the front of the tapestry and see what a beautiful picture these threads and knots made that was my life.

RCIA - The journey begins

2007-11-03T08:43:00.000-04:00

Recently we started a new RCIA class. I love the RCIA process! Tom and I have been teaching for 10 years now and every year I am like a kid before Christmas. I am so excited to see who God will send our way and every year I am not disappointed. As Catholic’s we do not go out and recruit “new members” we depend on the Holy Spirit to lead folks to” Inquire” about our faith. I can honestly say there is nothing I love more than sharing my faith.
People show up for so many different reasons. Some because they are getting married, some because they are just curious about what being a Catholic is all about, others come because their children are attending Catholic school. This year we have a young guy and when I ask him what had brought him to Inquiry he told me “My Mom made me come”, hey at least he was honest. What I have noticed is that no matter why they began coming to class by the time they finish the journey it has become personal. God has blessed me many times when I have witnessed the moment when the reason a person came changes and they begin their personal journey to a deeper relationship with God.
We spend the first few classes answering what I call the 10 Catholic Questions – you know the ones I mean: Why do you worship Mary? Why do you HAVE to confess your sins to a priest? Why does Priest not marry? Why do you pray to Saints? And so on. I never cease to be amazed at how much misinformation there is floating around out there. Their reaction is priceless when I tell them that as Catholic’s we in no way worship Mary and that any relationship we have with Mary is intended to lead us closer to her son Jesus, it takes them awhile to get their mind around that one.
I have no idea who will come into the Church this Easter Vigil. I am certain that I will have been blessed by being allowed to be a small part of their journey.
Share your Catholic faith, the more you share the more you have!

We had to come back

2007-10-06T16:53:00.000-04:00

Honey, I’m home! Yes, we got back from a wonderful stay at the beach. I highly recommend that everyone take the time to recharge their batteries a couple of times a year. If you think your “job” just can’t make it without you trust me you are wrong. The way I look at it is – if I got hit by a tuck tomorrow they would have someone else to do my job the next day. I work to make a living; I do not live to work. I pride myself in my job and try to give an honest day’s work so that I do not have to apologize when I get my pay check.
If your husband in currently in formation to become a deacon makes sure that you make a way a few times a year to go away and enjoy nothing but rest and relaxation. It is important to spend time away from the world. I find that when we are away for a few days we both have a better chance to listen more closely to that small still voice. For me there are few things that make me feel any more connected to God than when I sit on the beach and watch the sun come up over the ocean. How can anyone question if there is a God when they sit before something as perfect as the ocean at sunrise.
I would have to say that vacation was a huge success. We slept, ate, slept, walked on the beach, ate, slept. Do you see a pattern here? Most of all we were together and I have no greater friend than my husband.

On Vacation

2007-09-18T20:48:00.000-04:00

Just a note to let you know that I will be away on vacation for a couple of weeks. It is a tough thing to have to do but someone has to do it! Thanks for reading my rambling - I hope I have helped someone in some small way. If I made you smile then my job here has been complete. As always Love, Hugs and prayers!

Sunday go to meeting outfits - - - - -

2007-09-16T09:23:00.000-04:00

It is Sunday morning and I am not at church! Not going to church on Sunday morning is something I will never get use to not matter how long I am Catholic. Tom had mass last night – for Catholic’s Saturday night mass counts for Sunday, so if you go on Saturday night you don’t have to go on Sunday. Tom has mass tonight so I will go then also. BUT not going to church on Sunday equates in my previously protestant mind as a sin.

Getting up and getting ready for church on Sunday morning was a production when I was a kid. Mother spent hours on Saturday getting her “outfit” ready. I have seen her spend an entire week working on a new “Sunday go to meeting” dress. My Mother was always a dresser. I know that many of you that know me will find that hard to believe since jeans and a T-shirt are my dress clothes. This is not in any sense of the word my Mom’s fault, she tried. You see she spent equally as much time on my “outfit”. She would go into town whit her sketch pad in hand and draw a picture of the dress she wanted to make for me, come home and cut a pattern then make the exact dress. For me every minute spent trying on those dresses was torture. It seemed that Mom always choose to call me in to try one of them on when I was right in the middle of a great adventure.

Sunday morning would come and we would get all gussied up. Picture if you will a little girl that rather be in the woods with her dog putting on a frilly dress. Then there were the crinolines, many many crinolines. Do you remember the one that your Mom would stretch out flat on a table and spray with starch? I would have to wear so many that my dress would stand straight out. This would call for a pair of panties with ruffles on them, just in case. Then there was the ruffled socks, ruffled gloves and to top the whole thing off there was that dang hat. I hated Sunday “outfits” and would often pitch a fit of my own about having to wear them. It was to no avail because you did not miss Sunday morning church and you were not going to go looking like a heathen. Dad knew how I felt and would always give me one of those knowing looks but he did not dare cross Mother on this issue.

Then we would all pile in the 1950 Ford pickup, the boys would ride in the bed of the truck. Back then riding in the back of a pickup truck was considered a rite of passage. You had to be at least 4 or 5; I was allowed to ride in the bed of the truck but not on Sunday. There was a whole list of things I could not do while I had my Sunday “outfit” on. Most of them had something to do with behaving like a lady and not the tom boy that I was. Man I hated Sunday “outfits”.

The only thing worse than putting on that Sunday outfit and going to church was being told that the preacher was coming for “Sunday Dinner”. This meant that I would be in the monkey suit all day! If I got wind early enough that the Preacher was coming to our house I would beg one of my friends to let me go home with them. This did not work very often because Mother insisted that I be home when the Preacher came. This was long before GameBoys were invented and we did not have a TV so I had to sit for hours in this get up.

To this day the back of my neck itches when I wake up on Sunday remembering all those “Sunday Outfits”. Yes, Mother was a dresser. She set the standard by which all the other ladies at church tried to achieve. I am sorry to admit she never succeeded in turning me into the frilly little girl or woman that she hoped for. I hope that I made her proud in other ways because I never came up to her mark with it came to the way I dressed.

Thank you Lord for a Mother that not only cared about how she looked but also tried to dress me equally as nice. And Lord when I see Mom in heaven for the first time could you make sure I am dressed in a real frilly “Sunday outfit”, but I sure hope you will not make we wear it throughout eternity.

I believe - - - - - -

2007-09-15T14:45:00.000-04:00

· Birth Certificates show we were born Death Certificates show that we died and pictures show we lived!
· I believe -. . . That just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do.
· I believe - That we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change.
· I believe - . That no matter how good a friend is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while and you must forgive them for that.
· I believe - . That true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love.
· I believe - . That you can do something in an instant that will give you heartache for life.
· I believe - . That it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be.
· I believe - . That you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them.
· I believe - . That you can keep going long after you think you can't.
· I believe - . That we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel.
· I believe - . That either you control your attitude or it controls you.
· I believe - .. That heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences.
· I believe - . That money is a lousy way of keeping score.
· I believe - That my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time.
· I believe - . That sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down, will be the ones to help you get back up.
· I believe - . That sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel.
· I believe - . That maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated.
· I believe - . That it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself.
· I believe - . That no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief.
· I believe - . That our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become .
· I believe - . That you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life. Forever!!
· I believe - . Two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different.
· I believe - . That your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you.
· I believe - . That even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you - you will find the strength to help.
· I believe - . That credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being.
· I believe - . That the people you care about most in life are taken from you too soon.
· I believe - that it is easier to make a living than it is to make a live.
· I believe – that life may not be the party we hope for BUT life is too short not to dance!
· I believe – that if God has brought us to it He will bring us through it.
· I believe – that God loves me

What do you believe?

What I have learned being a Deacon's wife - - -

2007-09-14T18:15:00.000-04:00

When Tom first began his journey through the Deaconate program I was worried that I would not be qualified to help him in his ministry. Oh, I had been involved in different ministries at church pretty much all my life but Tom being ordained seemed to kick everything up a notch. Tom has a degree in theology and spent five years in formation before becoming a Deacon. He has forgotten more about the Bible and the Church than I will ever be able to learn. The one thing I knew for sure was that I never want to say the wrong thing and embarrass Tom and I never wanted to be the cause of someone having misinformation about the church. I also knew that there was no way I would ever obtain the knowledge that Tom possess. So, what to do? Pray!
Every time I was asked to speak at a retreat or teach a class I PRAYED. I prepared to the best of my ability, made my notes, ran my copies and so on. In the end I knew that I would have to depend to the Holy Spirit to get me through.
I have learned that if I was ask a question that I did not feel comfortable answering it was no shame for me to say “Let me get with Father or Tom and I will get back to you”. I always made sure to make a note and get the answer then get back to them. People can handle a truthful “I don’t know” better than they can an answers that beats around the bush and never really addresses their issue. Some people will not like your answer no matter how biblical or doctorial based it is. I have had a couple of people go to Father and tell him what I said in class and his answer has always been “Well, isn’t that strange that is exactly what the church teaches”. Then he takes the time to explain a bit more – bottom line they still don’t like the answer.
I have learned that often time’s people will ask me questions that they would never ask my husband or the Priest. Some are cradle Catholics and do not want the Priest to know they did not already know. Some people are just not comfortable approaching a “man of the cloth”.
I have learned that if someone is in need of money or food they are more apt to approach me. They have learned that I am a soft touch!
I have learned that if there is no toilet paper in the bathroom they will come and find me. Same goes for wine, wafers, candles or alter servers.
I have learned that there is a lot of things I can do to serve God, Church and my husband do not need a college education.
I have learned that they Holy Spirit is always there when I call and guides my words quite often
I have learned that: God doesn't call the qualified, He qualifies the called.

Let me eat COMFORT FOOD!

2007-09-10T19:33:00.000-04:00

I have been in the same business for about a hundred years – wait it just feels like it! As long as I have been thumping and bumping around I had to do something today that I have never gotten use to doing. I had to terminate someone employment. This was not just anybody; it was someone I cared a great deal about. They have been with the company for 7 years; I have watched their children grow up. I have watched them develop into a strong self sufficient person. Or, so I thought.
I pride myself on being a good judge of charter and my judgment about this person has not changed. This person is bright, intelligent, one of the hardest people I have every met and has a smile that will light up a room. What happened you ask? Short answer – personal problems that were bigger than their work abilities. Problems that I had tried to counsel them about many times.
Sometimes my kindness is mistaken for weakness and when this happens I have to do what is best for the man that signs my check. It still does not make the process any easier. At times I am in awe that I have been given the ability to strip someone of their livelihood. No one has the right to do this, but everyday a decision has to be made many times all over the world. Today was my day to decide that I cannot save everyone because some people do not want to be saved or do not have the ability to save themselves.
I try to treat everyone that I work with respectfully and with the same courtesy that I want in the work place. The sad truth is that most of us have to work, I am no exception. My thought has always been – We are all adults, we all have a job to do lets “get’r done”. I do not need to remind anyone that I am the “boss”. When I have to play the “boss card” it is not a good day for me.
I have eaten 2 lbs. of chocolate, drank a liter of coke and still have a pint of Ben and Jerry’s to go. Soon my sorrow will be drowned. I will not be able to get in any of my clothes tomorrow and all this sugar will make me swell up like a blow fish – but for tonight I need comfort food because someone I care about is hurting. I am wise enough to know that this is because of their actions not mine, but that does not help tonight.
My prayer is that over the pasted few years I have given this person the abilities to move forward in this profession when the time comes. I will continue to lift them up in prayer every day.

So, your husband wants to be a Deacon

2007-09-10T17:56:00.000-04:00

So, your husband wants to be a Deacon and all that is going through you head is “Run Forest Run”. Don’t feel like you are the only one that has ever had this feeling! When Tom decided he wanted to be a Deacon I took one look at the other Deacon’s wives that I said to myself “Self you will never make it, those women are way too pious, they will never accept you”. While some Deacon’s wives certainly act as though their name is Rev. Mrs. Deacon, but most of them are just like me. They are trying to figure out where they fit into their husband’s new found calling. If they have been a Deacon’s wife for awhile most have settled into the role and feel comfortable with their “lot” in life. Then there is me! I am not your average 60 year old Grandmother. Someone once remarked to Tom that I had no trouble thinking outside the box and Tom replied “she never knew there was a box”.
I enjoy life as much if not more than anyone I know. Laughter is a big part of my life and I love nothing more than making others smile. My hair is gray and I ware it in pretty much in a crew cut (the shorter the better). For the most part I do not wear makeup and I have several tattoos. Talk about worrying that you would not fit in – I am a poster child for not fitting in! I made a decision when Tom started the process that I would not let the fact that he was a Deacon change me. I am happy to report that to date I am still “me”.
What I have learned through the process is that most folks could care less how I look they are more concerned about how I will treat them. Now don’t get me wrong I would never attend Mass dressed improperly and I can cover my “art work” if I feel it will not be understood. I do not feel that I am selling out to the “establishment” I am being respectful to my husband and his position. My Mom use to ask “What do you think God will say when you get to heaven about those tattoos”. My answer – Don’t think He will much care about my outward appearance, and I was sure banking on a new body.
If you husband had dropped the bomb and you are still trying to decide where he got this idea – chances are that he heard that small still calling from the Holy Spirit. Relax – if God has brought him to it God will bring both of you through it. Spend time in prayer. Talk with your husband express your fears and concerns. Talk to a Deacon’s wife – one that doesn’t look too stiff. Send me an email; I will help if I can.
The one thing I am certain of is that your husband cannot make it through formation let alone perform his duties as a Deacon if he does not have your total support.
My prayer is that God will grant you a special portion of His grace as you move through this decrement period.

God's wife?

2007-09-07T07:28:00.000-04:00

God's Wife?A little boy about 10 years old was standing before a shoe store on Broadway, barefooted, peering through the window, and shivering with cold.

A lady approached the boy and said, "My little fellow, why are you looking so earnestly in that window?""I was asking God to give me a pair of shoes," was the boy's reply.

The lady took him by the hand and went into the store, and asked the clerk to get half a dozen pairs of socks for the boy. She then asked if he could give her a basin of water and a towel. He quickly brought themto her.She took the little fellow to the back of the store and, removing her gloves, knelt down, washed his feet and dried them with a towel. By this time the clerk had returned with the socks. Placing a pair upon the boy's feet, she purchased him a pair of shoes, and tying up the remaining pairs of socks, gave them to him. She patted him on the head and said, "No doubt, my little fellow, you feel more comfortable now?"

As she turned to go, the astonished lad caught her by the hand, and looking up in her face, with tears in his eyes, answered the question with these words,

"Are you God's Wife?"

God didn't stop up my septic tank

2007-09-05T14:32:00.000-04:00

I now know more about septic tanks than I ever wanted to know! Our tank backed up Monday today is Wednesday and the plumber finally arrived and popped the top to the tank. Needless to say the news is not good! My credit card how has $3,500 added to the balance. At least I don’t have to go out in the woods to potty anymore (good thing we live in the country) and the plumber promises me that within the hour I will be able to enjoy a nice hot bath!

When our problems with the septic tank first began it was right in the middle of our son exit from Georgia. My first thought was “Lord, why me – haven’t you given me enough to handle for a while”. I was on the verge of have myself a “pity party” when I received a call from my daughter in law saying that Billy had made it to Virginia safe and sound. I have been holding my breath and praying every few minutes since he pulled out of the driveway. So mid pity part I had to stop and thank God for the safe arrived of a very precious package. Nothing like a prayer answered to put a damper on a good pity party.

I adjusted my attitude and decided that having to go to the woods and not being able to take a shower for a few days was not such a bad thing. THEN the plumber got here and delivers the news – I had figured it would be $500 or so – but $3,500 took me aback. Potential “pity party” on the horizon! Oh, whoa with me, this is awful. Thought this time – “Lord, look at all the things I do for you! This is not fair! Look at the people down the street, they don’t even go to church and they are not having any problems.” I wallowed in that little thought for a few awhile.

I went and sat on the front porch and watched the humming birds and looked at the beauty of the flowers blooming. I saw how green Mr. Johnson’s sugar cane had become since the recent rains. I heard a cow bellow for her calf and a hawk scream from the top branch of a large pecan tree.

I had to apologies to God. I am one of the most blessed people on earth! I have a beautiful home, one many would love to call their own. I live far enough in the country that I can still enjoy the wonders of this world. I have more than enough food to eat. I have amassed enough clothes and shoes to outfit a small army. I have a husband that I share a “fairy tale” marriage with. I have three grown kids that I actually enjoy being around and a Grandson that is my heart. AND I have a credit card to put the plumbing bill on and a job that will allow me to pay the bill.

I have not accomplished or acquired any of these things on my own. God has been good me!
So, while I am standing in that hot shower I am going to count my blessings and cancel my “pity party” invitations.

Not everyone is going to love the Deacon - and some may love him a bit too much

2007-09-03T16:51:00.000-04:00

Not everyone is going to LOVE your Rev. Mr. and some might love him too much!

If your husband will be ordained soon don’t think you are going to join hands and skip into church to a standing ovation every week. Nope, there are going to be those that he just can’t make happy no matter what he does. His Homilies will be too long or too short. He does not deliver his sermon the same way the priest does; or even worse the “Old Deacon”. (You know the one that your husband replaced). He paid too much attention to Ms. Jones and did not even speak to Ms. Smith. Little Johnny ask him to bless his new cross and the blessing just did not sound right to someone nearby. Did you see how he held that baby during baptism, and I don’t think he put enough water on her head!
Trust me you will hear things about your husband that makes you want to poke someone in the head with a sharp object. You know how hard you husband worked on his Homily; you can count the hours it took him away from the family. And that Baptism looked beautiful to you! First and for most you have to remember it is not your job to defend your husband. In most cases he does not need to be defended. Folks are entitled to their opinion (even if it is wrong) and they have no trouble voicing it to you or the Priest. Very seldom do I mention anything that is said to Tom. As a Deacon he has enough on his plate, and if he does something wrong Father Ed will let him know. However I will be the first one to let him know if his Homily was a stinker. Remember I have been listening to Tom preach for years so the bar is set rather high! When the kids were young he judge how well his delivery was based on what they remembered, now he just has me and I don’t give out many A’s. I never know what Tom’s Homily’s are going to be about – I hear them for the first time along with the congregation.

Then there are the people or should I say “women” that are going to “love” him just a little too much. This is a subject that no one wants to talk about, but everybody asks about when we are one on one. I have no idea why, but I saw it happen when Tom was a minister – some women just have a thing about a “Man of the Cloth”. These are the women that always have a question for your husband or they just need a few minutes of this time. Let’s face it girls we are lucky our husbands are wonderful caring men. A quality that is not found often enough in men and if a “church lady” is lonely they are going to latch on to a man that seems to care. Trust me you husband has been warned in formation (or at least I hope he has) and he will know how to handle the situation with no interference from you. Don’t start looking at every lady that is nice to your husband with suspicious eyes – you will make your life and his miserable. Just know that it could happen! Tom does have one rule that has served him well over the years - he is never alone with a women. He does not go to lunch with a women alone, he does not close his office door when he is alone with a woman and he will not go to visit a women alone. Sad that a Deacon or Priest have to worry about these things but they do.

I do not stand at the back of the church with Tom after Mass. Why not you ask – because if someone needs to talk to him they need to feel free to do so. Folks will often approach your husband with family problems that they would never think of speaking to the priest about. That is one of the blessings our husbands bring to the church, they have dealt with mad wives and teenagers.

Your husband is not in a popularity contest and sometimes he will have to make decisions that will not sit well with some people. Your job is to be that “soft place” for him to land when the going get rough. Love him, pray for him and support him even if it is from a distance sometimes.

What to expect when you become a Deacon's Wife

2007-09-02T10:12:00.000-04:00

Since I am a Deacon’s wife I have been asked to write something occasionally about my “Life as a Deacon’s” other half. I guess the reason I don’t write about it more often is because it is not something that I think about very much. It simply is a fact, one that I would not change. I am going to try and address a few of the most common questions that I am asked – most questions come from wives of men in formation. Here is the test – if anyone out there is reading this that has a question feel free to send it to me either by email are by way of a comment and I will answer it to the best of my ability.
1. My husband is going to be an ordained deacon will I be Rev. Ms. Smith?
The short answer is NO. It depends on your diocese but in Atlanta wives are encouraged to attend classes with their husbands. It will educate you not only to what will be expected of your husband after ordination but you will learn more about what the Church teaches. If at all possible I urge you to attend when possible – education is always a good thing! The church is paying lots of money for your husband’s education and you have a chance to get it free.
2. What will be expected of me from the church after he is ordained?
Short answer NOTHING. This is not your “vocation” it is your husbands. All the Church asks is that you support your husband. Truth is the Church will appreciate you being as involved as possible. You and your husband may be involved in some of the same ministries and you may find your own nitch. Remember that you represent your husband and the Church at all times.
As a Deacon’s wife you will be privy to some information that is not intended for the general population – as good as you might feel the gossip is don’t share! Support comes in all forms and proper behavior and trust are just a couple.
3. We do “EVERYTHING” together. I am afraid that after he is ordained he will not have any time for me.
Short answer Maybe Not! This is the question that is always first and foremost in wives of “soon to be Deacons”. It is also the hardest question to answer because the answer depends on your husband’s ability to say “No”. Your husband has accepted the call to become a Deacon because he has a deep desire to serve God’s people. In accepting a position as a Deacon your husband has accepted a position of “service”. In most parishes he will be used to serve to the point of physical, mental and spiritual exhaustion if he does not learn to say no. While it is your job to support your husband in his service it is also your job to remind him if necessary that he just might be burning the ole candle at both ends. We have a group of Deacon friends and we try and get together every few of months(the Deacon’s in formation in our area are also invited) and as it always happens the men end up in one room and the wives in another and “family time management” is always a topic of discussion. Some men have been Deacon’s for years and still struggle with “family time management”. Others learned early on that their first commitment is to their family – these wives are the ones with the big smiles on their face!

I could write in length about this topic – and I will if you want me to – but the bottom line is: Our husbands walk a very tedious and demanding tight rope. Most have full time “money” jobs – strange how many parishioners think that just because they become “Deacons” that they only work for the Church – that require more than 40 hours a week. They have families that depend on them to be their “Sheppard”. Then there is the Church “flock” that they are to serve. One wrong step in either direction can cause their house of cards to crash. Not enough emphasis placed on their “money” job can place their employment in jeopardy, too much time spent with their “Church family” can place their own family in danger.

The one thing I know for certain is that your husband will not be able to succeed in any of these areas without your love, support and prayers.

What do I do as a Deacon’s wife you might ask? Well, last night at mass I was the sacristan, alter server and choir director. The week before I was the janitor, the people that clean did not show up. I try to wear what ever “hat” needed so that Mass is all my husband and Father have to worry about. My love is teaching OCIA, which I have been doing for 10 years. I go with Tom as often as possible (and when needed) to make home or hospital visits, home blessings and Adult education classes that he teaches.

I have no idea if this ramble will help anyone or even if there is a need for such a post. If I can be of any help to anyone all you have to do is drop me a line. I will continue to post questions if you ask them. If not I will be forced to go back to talking about my childhood!

Finding Home -

2007-08-30T20:35:00.000-04:00

Within each and every one of us, there lies a place called “Home”. It may look and feel different at various points in our lives. There are times, perhaps long ones, in which Home seems to be absent. Did it move away and forget to tell us, or did we wander off from it? It is there none the less and if we are not presently aware of living in it, we are necessarily engaged in the search for it. Home is that place where we feel the greatest inner warmth, where we can go to be ourselves, and it is where we must go if we are to fulfill our purpose in the world.
Home is an inner place, not an outer one. It is important for us to know that, and to know it for sure. Numerous people and influences in our lives will merrily assure us that Home is somewhere on the outside. People spend lifetimes, fortunes and much, much energy trying to find it or create it outside of themselves. But until Home is found on the inside, all our best efforts to build it on the outside eventually come to naught.
Contrary to appearances and to common belief, Home is not something that can be lost. Certainly, there are times in life when we feel rootless, Homeless, sitting among the ruins of shattered lives and broken dreams. In those times, everything in our experience tells us that all is lost, that we are lost. The truth goes otherwise. No matter how discombobulated our lives seem to be, there is still that inward place to which we may turn for solace.
The illusion that we have nowhere to turn, that we might lose our Home, is the basis of fear. When someone or something threatens to take away our security, our life, our domicile, our means of support, or people that we love, we become afraid and often panic. The basis of that fear is our belief that our very roots can be taken away. Our enemies will have us believe that they have the ability to destroy us. All their power over us lies in their assuring us of the truth of that belief. No matter how sever, or sudden or unforeseen something is it cannot destroy the foundations of Home.
Home is where we know we were always meant to be. It is an inner experience of belonging, but belonging not to something outside of ourselves, but rather of belonging within ourselves.
Because Home has only to do with having a certain job, or a certain amount of money or a certain type of friends or furniture, good luck or even an unblemished moral record. Being Home has only to do with being Home. The door is always open!
Father Paul Keenan – Beyond the Blue Snow

When we have no words of our own – sometimes we can find comfort in the words of others.

I don't want to be alone when I die!

2007-08-29T21:27:00.000-04:00

I don’t want to be alone when I die. That thought hit me very hard this morning. I would say I don’t know why but I do. It is that whole birthday thing for one and the fact that Billy will be leaving Saturday. Why would this cause me to contemplate my death you ask? Well, the birthday thing should be self explanatory – I ain’t getting any younger. I have already lived more years than I have left to live. Something tells me I want make it to 120! Billy leaving is for some reason is making me feel abandoned. I use “abandoned” because I cannot find the right word. No, Billy will not stop being my son, but he will not be able to be my “go to person”. I have always tried hard not to “intrude” in Billy’s life – well not since he got married – before that he was fair game. I know from experience that having your own “life” – work and family – is hard enough without having a Mother that has to give you her opinion on everything you do. So, I have tried hard to let Billy and Mont live their life BUT I always knew that Billy was only a phone call away if I needed help with anything from moving furniture to answering a computer problem question or just talking to me about how much we both miss my Dad. But what I counted on him and Mont for most was something I have never had to ask them to do. I always knew that if something ever happened to Tom they would be there to help me hold it together. No, I don’t think anything bad is going to happen to Tom – but we both spend a lot of time on the expressway. The last thing I say to Tom every morning is “Drive careful”. So, this thought is on my mind. I guess you could say I have always counted on them to be my “back up”.
I know that I kid and say I don’t care if Mont and Billy leave as long as they leave Hunter but this statement is far from the truth. First of all there is no way I could keep up with kid for more than a couple of days. And since I am not real good at making him toe the line he would be as mean as a stripped leg snake in a few weeks – when people would see us coming they would lock the doors because “here comes that bad kid”.
I am very proud of Billy; he has accomplished something very few people do. Billy set a goal for himself and his family and he worked hard to achieve it. I know that Billy accepting a position with the FBI will be a great adventure for him, Mont and Hunter. It will make their future brighter! I am excited and happy for them and if they were not “my” kids I would be ecstatic!
Oh, I know there are phones and planes and we have a new car, heck I have a computer with a camera on it! So, we will be in touch. And I am sure when Billy gets through the academy he will have time to answer a few of my calls. Mont and Hunter will come home to visit often and the 3 years that they are gone will pass quickly. I know that Tom and I will be fine and don’t need a back plan – we got each other. If I get really bad off and need a kid fix Julie will let me barrow Calla. These are all thing that my rational mind knows ------
Right now my rational mind is in my back pocket and my heart is in the driver’s seat --------
So, forgive me this weekend if I sit and contemplate death and cry from time to time. Because on Friday I will be a year older and Saturday the most precious gift God has ever given me – my son – will leave the nest.

2007-08-29T20:48:00.000-04:00

You can't be stupid all your life - or can you?

2007-08-27T20:13:00.000-04:00

As you know we live on the outskirts of Atlanta so you cannot turn on the TV or radio without hearing about Michael Vick. I try and avoid this discussion at all cost but I have decided to go on record or blog I guess I should say.

HOW STUPID CAN YOU BE? I do not even know where to start! How could someone with such a bright future ahead of them do something so stupid? Setting aside for a moment (I will get to it later) the horrific inhuman acts that he was involved in. Why would Vic not want to do everything within his power to live up to the “reputation” that had been created for him? Vic’s reputation was created by the Falcon’s Organization, Nike, Rebook and numerous other companies that signed him to advance their products. Vic was and is a good athlete, I do not disagree. BUT these companies turned a virtually unknown college football player into the quarterback that every kid wants to be.

Every kid in Atlanta wanted a pair of Vic Nick’s. Vic had made it! And so could they. I feel sorry that yet another “role model” has toppled from the pedestal these kids placed him on.

Now, to how I feel about his involvement in the “sport” of dog fighting. HOW STUPIED CAN YOU BE!

While using animal fights for entertainment has been around since Biblical times, heck they feed Christians to the lions, it did not then and does not now make it acceptable. Yes, I realize that animals do not have souls and I have no problem making the distinction between humans and animals. I still feel a responsibility to take care of God’s smaller creatures. I have 3 dogs –Max has ADD, Honey is a paranoid skio and Toby has no idea he is a dog. I cannot imagine how anyone could derive pleasure from watching any animal kill another one. As I have mentioned many times I was raised in the country on a farm and my Dad taught me a healthy respect for animals. Yes, some were raised specifically for food but they were always well taken care of. Dad believed that if you had an animal it was your responsibility to take care of it.

Guess I need to tell you a funny story about the farm. There were no vet’s down at the mall to take care of your animals, unless you had a sick cow or horse. Then you could give the vet a call and they would come out. Other than that the role of vet fell to the farmer. My Dad was pretty dang good! He could give our animals all the shots they needed and sew them up when need be. Well, one of the horses got caught in the bob wire fence and cut his forehead pretty badly. Dad got the necessary items to stitch the horse up – needle, fishing line and a large shot of Novocain. It was Charles’s (one of the cousins I refer to as my brother) job to hold the horse’s head still. Charles wrapped his arms around the horses head and set his feet to brace himself. Dad took aim and drove the shot of Novocain home – problem was the horse jerked his head up and Dad hit Charles in the side of the face with the needle. In the excitement Dad delivered almost a full does of Novocain into Charles face. Charles dropped to the ground, rolling around holding his face and swearing like a sailor (this is who I learned to cuss and spit from, and he was good at both). Charles was sure that Dad had numbed his brain and he would die at any moment. Charles was not the best of guys so I am sure he was thinking he needed a bit more time to make amends! My Aunt found lipstick on Charles socks once and when she questioned him about it he told her he had been to a “foot washing”. At last it was not Charles time to meet his maker and in a couple of hours he was fine.

I am glad that Vic has got “jail house religion” before he has served any time. The Lord is the only one that can truly know Vic’s heart and pass judgment on him. I am glad I was not placed on earth to judge anyone because I am afraid I would judge Vic very harshly. I do not understand people that visit harm on animals or humans.

You cannot be stupid all your life but Vic is off to a good start!

Mother Teresa is not a Saint .......

2007-08-24T19:43:00.000-04:00

The talk today has been all about the book that is coming out which consist of letters Mother Teresa wrote to friends and spiritual directors. In these letters Mother T talks about what she called her “crisis” of faith or her “dark nights of the soul”. Apparently it comes as a surprise to some that Mother T questioned her beliefs and even the existence of God.

These are a couple of the most quoted lines I heard today.
"If there be no God - there can be no soul - if there is no Soul then Jesus - You also are not true."
At times she also found it hard to pray.
"I utter words of community prayers - and try my utmost to get out of every word the sweetness it has to give - but my prayer of union is not there any longer - I no longer pray."

One person even suggested that she be removed from the beatification list for sainthood. Well, guess we will have to take the keys of heaven away from Saint Peter. Saint Peter walked with Jesus and still had doubts – there was that whole denying Jesus three times, and the time Peter stepped out of the boat to walk to Jesus. How about Saint Thomas, guess his Sainthood will have to be called into question also – he was with Jesus and had to place his hand in the nail holes before he would believe that Jesus had risen. Throughout the Bible and the life of the Saints there are examples of their “crisis of faith”.

I wrote just the other night about my “desert” periods and my inability to pray. Why does the fact that Mother Teresa struggled come as a surprise to anyone? If you have ever read any of her books or books about her or had the experience of hearing her speak you would know that this was something she talked about often.

I live in a wonderful home surrender by things and people I love and still I have “desert” times. Mother Teresa was with the poorest of the poor, she saw dying every day – several times a day. How could she not be filled with doubt at times? How many of us have lost a child or family member too soon and looked up and said “GOD WHERE ARE YOU”?

I complain about not being “feed” from time to time and this is no one’s fault but my own. I have family, friends and a parish family that I can turn to for nourishment – Where did Mother T go to be “feed”? Who was there to prop her up when she had to pray over a dying child? Who did she turn to when she needed to let it all out? She had no one – because she was the one that everyone else turned to. How very draining spiritually, mentally and physical that had to be for a small little woman that did nothing great only “small things with great love”.

Does doubt make our faith any less? In my opinion NO. Sometimes, I think the stronger our spiritually is the more “crisis” we seem to face. When you walk close to the Lord, when you talk to Him and feel His presence daily and then you lose that closeness for whatever the reason, for even a few hours there is a “crisis” of faith. Sometimes it last for a few day or weeks or months or even years.

I cannot speak for Mother Teresa I can only trust that in her final journey home that Our Blessed Mother took her by the hand and lead her to her mansion in heaven. And I hope Mother Theresa is one of the first people I see when I trade my baseball cap for a crown.

When is a lie not a lie?????

2007-08-23T22:43:00.000-04:00

Well, it is thundering and that means I am sitting in my chair with 3 – count them 3 dogs in the chair with me. Then how am I typing you ask, they are all use to me laying the laptop on top of them. Given the choice of having to stay in the floor 2 feet away from me or laying under the laptop they will choose the laptop every time. You are now shaking your head asking why I put up with this. Animals have always been a part of my life. When I was growing up I turned everything on the farm into a pet given half the chance. Once while I was out hunting big game in the woods around the farm in Alabama I spied a little baby fox. I have no idea how old he was but I decided he would follow me home. A couple of hours later and a piece of rope around his neck we arrived home – I swear he followed me! I named him Shipper. Dad felt he was a cross between a wild dog and a fox. Made no difference to me what he was I just needed a dog. At that point I was down a couple of dogs – only had 7 dogs and 21 cats. So, Skipper became my new best buddy. He was the smartest dog I had ever seen. Skipper could learn tricks must faster than Penny (one of my beagles). We spent many hours together hunting big game and swimming in the creek. He was allowed to sleep with me, which was a real treat. I had always had pets but none of them were allowed to sleep with me until Skipper followed me home.
Skipper had one bad habit – now remember I grew up in the COUNTRY – he would run in front of the fox hunter’s dogs. Every week on Thursday night the men would get together and have a fox hunt. My Dad did not hunt – thank goodness! Skipper would go and get the dogs to chase him and then run home, scratch on the back door and I would let him in. I had no idea what he had been up to. One morning Skipper did show up. I called his name for hours. Dad suggested that he had gone to visit his old friends for a few days. At the end of two weeks it was pretty clear that he was not coming back. Dad said he felt pretty sure he had gone back to join his fox family. As broken hearted as I was I could accept the fact that Skipper needed to be with his family just like I needed to be with mine.
Many years later I happen to walk up behind Dad, he was talking to some of his friends. Dad did not know that I was there. He was telling the guys about Skipper. It seems that the fox hunters got tired of Skipper messing up their hunts. They figured out where he crossed the road every night and one of the hunters sat and waited on him. Dad found his body the next morning when he went down the mountain to town. I walked away and did not let Dad know I had heard his conversation. I was broken hearted; it had been several years since Skipper went to join his family. Enough time had passed that the edge had worn off the grief. Now I needed to process the new information. Why had Dad not told me the truth? He lied to me. There was one thing you learned early on with Dad – you did not lie to him and he did not lie to you. Dad would not even teach me that there was a Santa Clause because he knew someday I would find out it was a lie. Now, my granddad – his dad – would lead a cow around the house every Christmas Eve and tell us it was the reindeer. So, I did believe in Santa, Dad just never helped predicate his existence. So, here I was – lost my dog and Dad had told me a lie.
Somewhere in the wisdom of my 12 year old mind I reasoned out that Dad did not really lie to me. Well, he did but not a bad lie. Really, just a story to save a little girl from the truth. Dad tried for many years to protect me from the lies of the world. I lived in a fairy tale world created by all those around me. I was the youngest of the cousins living on the mountain so I was treated like a little princess. The lies of the real world would have to be faced soon enough.
I would not take anything for my childhood in the country. I only wish kids now days had the chance to live where there are no tiny backyards with fence that you cannot venture out of. A place where you knew everybody and you were somebody. A place where you could have 7 dogs and 21 cats and nobody cared. (We had a big barn and crib so there were plenty of mice to eat) A place where the morning smelled like honeysuckles and the night was filled with fire flies.
Yes, I am talking about the “good ole days” and for me they truly were good.
I did not tell Dad that I overheard his conversation until I was 16. He knew and I knew it was O.K. and I appreciated what he did for me.
When is a lie not a lie – when someone you love loves you enough to make the story have a happy ending.
May all your stories have happy endings and may God send you honeysuckle scented mornings.

A friend knows your Heart Song --------

2007-08-21T20:49:00.000-04:00

A friend is someone who knows the song in your heart and can sing it back to you when you have forgotten the words.

Do you remember when you were a kid and “best friends” were so very important. Everybody wanted to a “best friend” not just a friend. You might have 2 or 3 best friends in the same week. Pat was your “best friend” on Monday, then she told you that your dress was ugly so Mary was your “best friend” on Tuesday. As you got older best friends did not change so often but still they came and went. You learned that you could have more than one friend at a time. When you got into high school your friends were the most important people in the world – their opinion was more valuable than your parents and certainly more significant that your brothers or sisters. Your parents became incredibly stupid at this time in our life – but that is a different blog. No matter how hard I tried to convince our kids that the people they thought were so very important during high school would not be around in a few years, they would not listen – heck I sure did not listen when I was their age.
I think by the time we reached college age we tended to rely less on our friends. We are trying and figure out who we are and for the most part we see everyone else as competition – they are either competing for the guy we want or the job we want or the grades we want. It is sometime around the age of 25 that our parents get smart. How in the world did they get so smart over the passed few year? But at last we don’t start listening to them until we are 30 or so.
My Dad always said that if you had a handful – meaning 5 – close friends, the kind you could call in the middle of the night and know that they would listen - 3 friends that you could tell your greatest fear to and know that they would not share them with anyone else – 1 friend that you could go to and ask for money and they would not need to know the reason why – that you were a truly blessed person.
I can say that I am “truly blessed”. I am still friends with several people that I went to school with. I have friends from jobs long gone. Then there is the whole church thing – lots of friends there. Marian says we can’t go anywhere that I don’t run into some one I know. That is really a good feeling! You feel like you belong. Now the ones I run into that I have not seen for awhile and they tell me I look just like I use to worry me. Either they are trying to be too nice or they really need new glasses – I see that old woman staring back at me in the mirror.
BUT – the main reason I am blessed is because I am married to my “best friend”. The person that I want to spend my spare time with, the person that knows my greatest fears and doesn’t make fun of me when I cry for no reason. The person that holds my hand when I step off a curb but will let me change a car tire if I need to prove that “I AM WOMAN”. The person that gives me all the freedom I need then is there to pick up the pieces when I come back home with a broken heart because things just did not work out the way I thought they should. Tom knows my heart song and has often sung it to me when I have forgotten the words.

I have said all of this to say – if you are in a relationship now and that person is not the one you think of first when you have something you just HAVE to tell somebody – if you do not consider how pretty much every decision you make will effect them – You are not in the right relationship! And growing old ain’t going to be much fun.

Before Tom and I got married my Dad asked Tom one question – Have you prayed about this and have you waited for the answer.

God has to be a part of all relationships – have you invited him into yours?

Well, God is gone again!

2007-08-20T20:02:00.000-04:00

Well, God is gone again! No, He has not moved but it seems that I have. I am in what some of the Saints spoke of as a “desert” phase. This is a time when you go to the well, but find nothing to drink. Nothing to really grab onto that will quench the deep down thirst you feel. That time when you can find nothing to fill the hole in your soul. Why I find myself in this place is not near as important as how and when I will leave.
Yes, I guess you could say there is a lot going on in my little corner of the world – our son Billy leaves for the FBI Academy in a couple of weeks. Billy and I have never been separated for more than a few days since he was born. He is a grown man now with a son of his own and is trying to do what is best for his family. I am very proud of Billy; he has accomplished what few people do. He has worked hard to reach the first rung on the ladder of becoming a FBI Agent. At the end of 6 months Billy, Mont and Hunter will move to who knows where. Then there is the whole work thing, with the company being sold none of us really know what will happen. Can’t leave out my upcoming birthday, nothing like a good “old” birthday to make one ponder the meaning of life. Put all these things in a bag and shake them up and when you dump them out there will be sand in the bottom of the bag.
So, I have got to pull myself up and shake the sand off my sandals and move on. This is not a new place I find myself in; I am a frequent visitor to this arid land. I spent almost a year wondering in this dry land after my Mom and Dad died. I wasn’t mad at God; my parents had lived a long wonderful life. This did not and does not keep me from missing them each and every day. For many months I simply had nothing to say to God and figured He didn’t have much to say to me. I went to several retreats during that time seeking the answer that would restore my breaking heart. It was not until an old guy in a class I was teaching at church utter a few words that shook me back to reality. I made mention that I had not been able to pray since my parents died. The old guy looked at me and said “we can never stop praying, never. Prayer is the greatest gift God gave us.” It was at that moment I left the desert and once again felt the rain on my face. Yes, prayer is one of the greatest gifts God gave us. A way to talk directly to our creator. A way to make our needs know to the One that can truly provide.
I am not so far out in the desert this time that I have stopped talking to God nor have I lost the ability to hear His small still voice. I am simply skirting around the edge, kicking the sand with the toe of my sandal every now and again. I am not so far in that I can no longer see the beautiful sun rises and sunsets that God sends my way – or enjoy the endless calls from Hunter “Ya Ya lets go, it will be great fun”. As I say I am just skirting around the edge of the dry land, but I also realize it would not take much letting go before I can no longer feel or hear God.
How am I going to keep from getting sucked into the vortex that is as close to Hell as one will know here on earth – separation from God. Well, I will spend more time in the word, I will read my bible. I will make more time to pray and listen. I will listen to the old gospel songs from my childhood, the ones that reminds of “What A Friend I have in Jesus”, and the one that tells of His “Amazing Grace”. I will sing along at the top of my lungs – remembering that “Those that sing pray twice”. I will lean on Tom, my shelter from all storms, my strength when I have none of my own.
They say that which does not kill us only serves to make us stronger – a walk in the “desert periods” of life will not kill you but they can truly make you wish for death. Today I am dancing on the edge of a vast wasteland – I intend to pray and sing and dance my way right back into the arms of my loving God.
Come dance and sing with me!

Is anyone perfect???

2007-08-19T15:21:00.000-04:00

Yesterday I got a glimpse into what a special little girl in my life will encounter for the rest of her life. Calla is 3 years old, she is my daughter in laws niece and my segregate granddaughter. To say that Calla is a beautiful little princess comes close to describing how this little girl can reach out and melt the hardest of hearts. Calla is the kind of little girl that everyone utters in passing “did you see that child she is adorable”. Calla calls me Ya Ya just as Hunter does. Having the two of them together is a double handful, and Calla’s hand is what she has to deal with daily.
Calla was born with a hand that did not fully develop. I cannot remember the name of the condition but it has to do with a part of the uterus detaching and wrapping around an area of the fetus not allowing blood flow thus the deformity. How it happened is not important, the fact that Calla was born “less than perfect” in the eyes of John Q Public is. For the people that are around her it is something that we do not notice until someone brings it to our attention. Trust me it in no ways slows Calla down.
Yesterday we had a “congratulation/farewell party” for our son Billy who will be leaving for the FBI Academy in a couple of weeks (this is a story for another time). The family was there and several of Billy’s friends and ex co-workers. One of Billy’s friends has a little girl that is 4. I have no idea how long we had all been in the pool playing – which involves the kids jumping in and me catching them – when the little girl noticed Calla’s hand. And in true little one’s style she began to ask questions about Calla’s little hand. “Why is her hand that way?” “Her hand looks like it has tiny little toes on it”. The family is teaching Calla to answer “Because God made me that way”. So, I told the little girl that it was that way because God made it like that and Calla is very special”. Enough said, not for this child. She continued to want to look at Calla’s hand, she wanted to touch it and she wanted to hold it. Of course my first instinct was to smack the kid in the mouth and tell her to go away. BUT she was after all making the innocent inquiries of a child. So, I was left to walk a tedious line between what my heart wanted to do and what I needed to do for both Calla and the little girl. I started a new game in the pool which bought us all some time, but given the opportunity the little girl would gravitate back to Calla’s hand and the questions would start again.
Our first instinct is always to protect those we love. I came away from the encounter with a heavy heart because I had seen for the first time up close what “our little” princess will face thru out her life. Calla will have to be confident in herself so that she will not be defined by her hand. Trust me to date she has made the adjustments needed to compensate; she can do anything she sets her mind to and is truly fearless. (which got us both in trouble yesterday – she was jumping off the diving board and I was catching her – I told her it was time to go back to the shallow end of the pool and I started swimming towards Hunter, Calla was walking along the side of the pool – the next thing I know her Dad is jumping in the deep in clothes and all to get her – told you she has NO FEAR).
Right now as a family we can stand in the “gap” and buffer Calla from questions but the time is fast approaching that she will enter the “world” alone. Our job as family is to prepare Calla for these encounters. On a whole we are doing what we feel will help Calla in the days to come. Mostly we are loving her “with all our hearts” as Hunter says, which isn’t hard cause she is such a little charmer.

We often look at these people as less than perfect and thank God that we are. Well, we may not have outward deformities but grant it we are all far from perfect. So, the next time you see someone that you “feel sorry” for instead of thanking God it is not you – how about asking him for a extra portion of His grace for them, to strength them and make their life easier instead of thinking how lucky you are. Calla might not be “perfect” in your eyes but in the families and God eyes she could not be more perfect – unless God had added wings and make her an angle.
Today I still feel an ache in my heart for a little girl I love so dearly not because I feel sorry for her but because I do not ever want her heart to hurt because of some uneducated idiot says something to her. And because her family will not always be able to protect her from such people. If it was up to me I would just follow her around and poke these folks in the head with a sharp stick.
My prayer for Calla is that God will grant her a special portion of His grace though out her life. I also pray for all those that are “special” in some way. May they walk in confidence in this life and the next when their physical body will be perfect,

What will heaven be like.......

2007-08-13T20:29:00.000-04:00

Have you ever wondered what heaven will look like? I often ponder the question. I know there is a heaven, how do I know because Jesus said so.

Do not let your heart be troubled; believe in God, believe also in Me. “In My Father’s house are many dwelling places; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. “If I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and receive you to Myself, that where I am, there you may be also. John 14 1-3.

I have no idea how or when He is coming or if I will make my final journey home before that day. But, I do know that one day I will see the place He has prepared for me (there might be a stop for me in Purgatory).

So, how will heaven look? I am not worried about golden streets or if my “mansion” is a log cabin or a lean to out back – just as long as I make.

There is a story about Jesus and St. Peter walking around heaven one day and Jesus stopped mid step and asked St. Peter – “What is Mr. Smith doing here; I am sure his name was not in my book”. St. Peter stumbled around the question and they continued their walk – once again Jesus stopped and pointed to a women –“Peter, I do not remember Mrs. Jones name being in my book”. Once again St. Peter stumbled and fumbled around the question. The third time this happened Jesus informed St. Peter that he wanted to know exactly what was going on. St. Peter said, “Jesus, you are not going to like the answer.” Jesus told St. Peter to let Him worry about that, just tell him what was going on. St. Peter said, “Well, Jesus they come to the Pearly Gates and when I tell them their name is not in THE BOOK – they go around to the back door and your Mother lets them in”. I just hope the Blessed Mother is at the back door when I get there. I don’t care how I get in!

Will we know people in heaven as we knew them here on earth? My greatest hope is that I will know my Mom and Dad. I think when our parent’s die it touches us in a place in your heart that you never knew existed. I further believe that place will never be filled again until we are reunited with them in heaven. I lost both of my parents in less than a year – while time has helped heal some of the pain that is caused by grief – it will never heal over the large part of my heart that is missing.

Tom’s Mother passed away almost 30 years ago and Sunday while he was preaching he choked up when he mentioned something about all those that have gone before us. I do not think anyone even noticed it but me. I asked him later if he was thinking about his Mom, and as I guessed he was. So, time does not completely take away the loss we feel at the death of someone that meant so very much to us.

For years my Dad carried around a piece of paper with a joke on it that someone gave him – in essence it said – “when you get to heaven don’t stand around with your mouth open in amazement at who is there because some folks will be wondering how you got there”. I do not think we will realize the ones missing – what kind of heaven would that be!

So, for now I walk by faith into the future knowing that one day I will be in the presence of God and my only wish is that I will know those that have gone before me. I hope that Dad and I can sit and talk about everything and nothing like we use to and I can ask Tom’s mother all those questions about his childhood that I never got to ask her.

Ya'll come now ye hear!

Memories are yarns - does it matter

2007-08-11T21:50:00.000-04:00

When you think back to your childhood what are your fondest memories? I have so very many, growing up in the county only adds to the multitude of memories that I can embellish and tell anytime the need arises. Since I was young I have been know for the “tales” I could spin. My Dad use to say that I could remember things that happened before I was born. This is more than likely a true statement – because I have always loved a good story and I learned at the feet of some of the best yarn spinners to come out of Alabama. I can remember falling asleep many nights curled up on the floor beside the couch listening to my relatives talk about the “good ole days”. If my Grand dad told a story my Uncle J.B. would have to up him one – this could go on for hours. If one went hunting and shot a deer, a couple of rabbits and a squirrel the other one shot a bear. I was young and believed everything and when I told my friends my Uncle shot 2 bears and a wolf. So, who knows how much of what is stuck in the creases of my mind is something I heard or something I added and for the most part who cares. Everyone loves a good yarn! There are some things that are my memories that need nothing added.
My Mom and Dad had only 3 “fight’s” that I can remember. My Dad worshiped my Mom and he expected the rest of us to worship at the pedestal he had placed her on. One day Mom went to “town” with my aunt to get a makeover at Merrill Normans – this make over was suppose to make you look 10 years younger. Mom would have been around 35, not old by any stretch of the imagination. Well, Dad and I got up that morning and went fishing as we often did on Saturday. Not long after we got home Mom knocked on the front door. Dad went to answer it – of course he knew who it was – but he played along. When Dad opened the door he said “Hi, little girl have you lost your Mother”. Dad just knew this would make Mom feel great – she was suppose to look 10 years young after all. Things did not go quite as Dad planned. Mom pushed passed him, ran straight to the bedroom, flung herself on the bed and cried like her heart was broken. Dad and I stood at the front door looking at each stopped in mid laugh. Dad had never been able to handle Mom crying and now he was the one that had caused her to “take to her bed”. He tried explaining that he thought she looked very nice but the tears would not stop. So, we sat on the couch and waited. As I have mentioned we did not have indoor plumbing at this point. There was no bathroom for Mother to go in and wash up – she had to walk out through the living room right pass me and Dad. We waited and waited finally the bedroom door opened and what we saw look like a raccoon with red lipstick smeared on it’s face – BUT we did not crack a smile. Mom walked pass us and into the kitchen – Dad and I slipped out the front door our plans were to lay low for awhile. Dad was heartbroken that he had hurt Mom’s feelings and was clueless about how to make things better.
We feed the hogs and got some corn out of the shed for the cows. By the time we got back to the house Mom’s face was washed clean and not a word was ever spoken about it again. I will say that Mom never went to have her “face done” again.
The other 2 involved a Masonic Bible and a movie about Pinky on a Horse named Stinky –but those are tells for another day.
I do know that my Mom and Dad loved each other with a love that not many people will ever experience. As different as they were , love was the common thread woven through their lives.
He was her strength and she was his heart beat.

To Blessed to be stressed .......

2007-08-09T21:00:00.000-04:00

I am stressed out – if I had a dollar for every time I have heard that statement over the past 2 weeks I would have – well, I would have enough money to buy a really nice pair of shoes. Stress makes people react in different ways. Some people eat – hey I will use any excuse to eat – some people get very quiet and withdraw – this is not my style – some people sleep a lot – heck I wish I could sleep – some people cry – I am not a crier unless it is a sad movie – some people go home and take it out on their family – hey it is just me and Tom and I can’t afford to tick him off he might stop cooking, if I kick one of the dogs it would break my and their hearts – some people take it out on store clerks, resident managers, maintenance men, leasing agents, bookkeepers or regional manager – anyone that they can feel superior to. I think the latter is the hardest for all of us to deal with. Why would Ms. Smith in 101 that sent me a Thank You note last week come in today and curse me out? Why would Mr. Jones stop me in the parking lot and jump my case when he was so thankful last week when I fished his watch out of his toilet? Why would Jane in bookkeeping be so rude to me today when last week she told me a really fully joke when I called. Why would my boss tell me in one breath that I was doing a great job and in the next tell me that I could “hit the road” if I did not like the way things were being done?
Oh, we all get those “a—chewing” that we deserve, and we KNOW when we deserve them – then there are the ones that come out of nowhere and make us feel like we have just hit the “Twilight Zone”. You know the ones that you walk away from shaking our heads trying to figure out where things went south.
Well, folks I hate to say - but it ain’t about you. As big as our ego maybe for the most part when someone dumps on us for no reason there is a much deeper cause for the outburst. Maybe they had a fight with their spouse that morning, maybe their boss just jumped on them and you know the ole saying “IT rolls down hill”. Worst case scenario they are truly just on rude son of a gun taking advantage of their position.
For the most part we will never know why today someone chose to rain on our parade. What we have to realize is that the venom we are sprayed with does not determine our worth. No one should ever be allowed to take away our dignity and pride. But so often we allow these encounters to “color” the picture we carry in our minds eye of our own worth. As self confident as we all want those around us to perceive our actions, for the most part we are all seeking approval. Just like a little kid we want others to tell use “Good Job” – or at least say thank you.
GET OVER IT LIFE AIN’T FAIR AND IT AIN’T GOIN TO START WITH US!
So, the next time you are feeling “stressed out” try not to pay it forward – and if someone “rains on your parade” say a little prayer for them and Thank God that you are TOO BLESSED to be STRESSED, or plot their demise – but that is such a waste of a perfectly good hour, day or week.
Keep smiling and remember – You are somebody cause God don’t make no junk! Or as in my case I am still a work in progress – in His time not mine.

Car Salesman - God Bless them all........

2007-08-05T20:31:00.000-04:00

We went to buy a new car this weekend. Buying cars is a task that I usually do alone! There are two things in life that Tom hates. One is going to the dentist and the other is – you guessed it – shopping for a new car. I did as much leg work on the internet as possible prior to venturing out in public with the car salesman loathing Deacon. This is a man that makes his money selling heating and air systems and has the highest margin of profit in the company. You would think he would enjoy the “dance” that car salesmen do. You know where they give you a price and you say that is too high, then they say they will go ask their manager if he can do any better. They go behind some mysterious closed door count to 100 then come back out and present you with the best deal they have seen all day. You start to leave and they play run and touch the wall again. After a couple of hours you reach a price that you think you can live with everyone is happy UNTIL – you have to go into that dark office at the end of the hall with the guy wearing a visor and has a pencil behind his ear. Somehow the good deal you thought you were getting is now costing you $2,500 more than it was 20 minutes ago. Then there is the extended warranty spill and the gap insurance talk. When you think you have heard it all you get the life insurance and maintenance song. Finally you get down to signing the papers. Tom wants all of this to take place in less than 30 minutes. I spent 3 days haggling with the salesman before I bought my Bug.
I arranged for financing before we hit the lots. I called and talked to several internet salesmen and had narrowed the search to a local dealer. Off we went. The guy I spoke with on the internet passed us off to another guy – I had asked that they have the two cars we were interested in as close to the show room as possible. Well, that did not happen – off to a bad start already! When the salesman locates the car he did not have the keys so we stand in the hot sun for 15 minutes waiting for him to locate the keys. To my knowledge he never did! We went back in the show room and Tom told the guy he did not need to drive the car just tell him the bottom line price. The guy comes back with a sheet with the sticker price one it. Blood pressure is now going up. Tom informed the guy that he was not going to pay sticker price – then the guy made what turned out to be the death nail – “do you not want me to make any money on the car”. We are out the door folks! Of course the general manager comes chasing after us and offers Tom $2,500 off the car. This just served to tick Tom off more. He told the guy he had ask for his best price and told it was the sticker price now all of a sudden he had “found” $2,500 he could take off. We left. We went to CarMax and to tell you the truth if they had been able to find what Tom wanted we would have bought it from them. They had very few Toyota’s – they guy said they sell as quickly as they get them in.
Time to take a break – Tom went to Mass and I stayed home and made a few more calls. I called a dealership not far from the house and spoke to the internet salesman – he sounded 12 on the phone. I told him what we were looking for and he said – I have the EXACT car for your husband! Son, son if you only knew that you were about to meet a man of the cloth that seems to lose his religion when he enters a car dealer. I talked to Eric for quite awhile, I explained the problem. I made an appointment for 7 pm. I do not know who the patron saint of car salesmen is but I suggested to this kid that he find out and sent up a prayer – I would be doing the same. When we arrived Eric came running out. Heavens, he was only 12, you could not help but like the kid. He had the car front and center – no waiting for keys and no standing in the heat. From the moment I saw the car I knew it was Tom. We drove it – then Tom asking the ever telling question – What is your best price. Eric was prepared – I had informed him that he would have one shoot. Eric did me proud! It took us almost 2 hours to make the deal, sign the paperwork and clean out the old car. Not the 30 minutes that Tom had hoped for but not the 4 hours that I was afraid of. The kid was funny, he kept asking me if Tom was doing OK and for the most part he was.
Could someone please explain to me how a man with infinite patients when dealing with the sick and dying, with someone that is down on their luck and needs a willing ear or the parishioner that did not quite understand the homily can become the epiphany of impatience when doing something as mundane as buying a car. I have pondered this question many times and I think the answer quite simply is – a car for Tom is not a status symbol, it is not an extension of his personality or his self worth. A car is simply the means by which he gets from one place to another. In his mind buying it should be like buying a pair of shoes – these are the one I want , they are the color I like, they fit and the price is printed right on the box!
The readings today were about Vanity – how “STUFF” takes the place of God in our life. For most of us this is so very true – if you want to talk about “stuff” I got stuff – for Tom stuff is simply “Stuff” – his eyes are on the final reward and he want need any “stuff” when he heads HOME.
Lord, help me to lay aside “stuff” and put you first and foremost in my life.

I have part-timers!

2007-07-31T20:16:00.000-04:00

I have part-timers! No, I do not have Alzheimer because most of the time my brain functions as it should. Then there are those times when I walk into a room and have no idea what I am there for. Today someone ask for my cell phone number, this is a number I have repeated no less than a million times, for the life of me I could not remember the last 2 numbers. I have never been good with names so as long I as do not forget my husbands or the kid’s names I figure I am ahead of the game. I lose my keys and glasses on regular bases. For the most part that does not bother me, except for the times that Tom tells me they are on top of my head. So, I have decided I do not have Alzheimer, I have part-timers. It is like when a tape hits a blank spot then starts up again. It is just a momentary blank spot in my tape. My greatest fear is that I will wake up one morning and my entire tape will be blank.
I am not trying to make light of a serious disease. Quite the contrary – Tom had two uncles die from this awful debilitating disease. They suffered for many years as did the family. Tom and I have also visited several people over the pasted years for church that had Alzheimer’s. It is so hard to watch a once brilliant person struggle to figure out how to put on their shoes and socks. Thankfully there comes a point when the suffer no longer remembers that he does not remember. While this is comforting for them it is so very difficult for their family.
So, you see I have seen this diease up close and personal and I am truly worried. If this horrible diease should be my cross someday I can only pray that I can fade quietly into that dark night without my family having to suffer. One lady that Tom and I use to visit never failed to say when we left “now don’t forget next week I will not know who you are”. True to her word, the next week we had to spent 5 minutes explaining who we were. She could not remember what church she attended, but she never forgot a word of the prayers we prayed with and for her. One man we visited in a nursing home insisted that the Pope had lunch with him every day. Niki, a lady we visited for many years, had a lucid moment and told me that she knew she was a pain in the ass but that God would bless me someday for coming to see her. I agreed with her and told her to tell me again, and she did. Niki lived with her daughter and one day she called and said that she just could not deal with it any longer. Niki was convinced that someone had stolen her bedroom, not the whole house just her bedroom. I went over and spent some time with Niki. I agreed with her that indeed her bedroom had been stolen but I had it on good authority that they would bring it back before time for her to go to bed. She was content with my solution. My heart broke for a daughter that could not accept, at that moment, that her once intelligent and strong Mother no longer existed.
A lady at church who's Mother ended her worldly journey this week after not being among for several years. Her daughter never missed a Sunday bring her Mom to mass. Again I saw someone that did not recognize the daughter sitting beside her but did not miss a word in the prayers that we prayed.
I am left with this question: if someday that veil of darkness covers my mind will my faith have been strong enough that I will remember the prayers?

Lord, please give a special portion of Your grace to all the families that are touched by this horrible disease.

Wondering mind

2007-07-29T20:57:00.000-04:00

There was a lot of talk about prayer this week at Mass. Any time there are talks about prayer it sets my mind to wondering. Well, most anything will cause my mind to wonder; sometimes it wonders so far I have no idea where it is. It always makes me feel guilty when the priest talks about prayer (hey, I am Catholic and we all have miles on our frequent flyer's card from guilt trips). I have been on retreat after retreat on different types of prayer. I attended a silent retreat on prayer and almost drove the nun that was the retreat master crazy. I have no idea what I was thinking when I signed up for a silent retreat other than the fact that Tom attended one and love it. I think I made it about 2 hours before I started texting Marian. At the end of the weekend the nun asked each of us what we would take away from the retreat, I replied “That I will never attend another silent retreat”. I drove 4.5 hours twice to attend centering prayer retreats. At one retreat we spent a lot of time in meditation, we had yoga classes, we drew pictures of our “inner child”, and mine looked like a stick figure with a skirt on. I have had my chakras cleansed and my pressure points determined by a pendulum. I have drummed to the inner beat of my heart song. I sat in front of a singing bowl and let myself float with the high pitched drown. I attended a Native American retreat and sat in a sweat lodge. I bought meditation tapes by the dozens. I tried aroma therapy. I have burned so many incenses that the fire department showed up. I bought Catholic and Christian prayer books. I had chaplets and beautiful rosaries. All of this was done in my attempt to learn how to talk to God, in other words pray.
I wanted to be able to sit down and do something that would immediately put me in contact with God. I was looking for a way to access God quickly so that I could get the answers to MY problems. I wanted His full attention and I wanted it NOW! There had to be a way to accomplish this if only I find the right “something” to do, or the right “thing” to listen to. I am sorry to say I never found the Holy Grail for quick access to God through prayer.
I may have been the only Mother in history told not to breast feed because the doctor was afraid I would never sit still long enough for the baby to finish. You have heard of a type A personality well I have a A++ personality – I just don’t have time to waste sitting still. Hey, I only got some many minutes to live and I don’t want to waste any of them!
Centering prayer put me to sleep. Meditation caused my mind to wander. The singing bowl makes my dog howl. Aroma therapy made me hungry. Burning incense takes Tom off the deep end and it would be a full time job for someone to keep my chakras clear. So I had to find something that worked for me.
I have finally learned that one does not need a special place or a thing to pray. I have learned that immediate access to God is as easy as saying “Here I am Lord”. I pray when I drive, I pray when I sit on the front porch and watch the sun set, I pray when I walk around the yard looking at all the beautiful things God has put on earth for me to enjoy. I pray when I watch the news for people I don’t even know. I pray when I pass a wreck on the express way. I pray when I see a homeless person that I cannot stop to help. I pray at Mass. I still have my prayer room, wonderful meditation tapes that I listen to from time to time and beautiful rosaries. These “things” still serve a purpose from time to time. But most of the time all I need is an open heart and a willing spirit.
By the way A COUPLE of other thing I learned along the way – sometimes it is best just to listen to what He has to say and remember God does not wear the same watch that we do – so answers are subject to His time not ours.

Does God have a smit button?

2007-07-27T20:56:00.000-04:00

I saw a bumper sticker today that said “Caution in case of rapture this car will be empty”. Since I was a little kid I have heard talk about the “Rapture”. That it will happen in the twinkling of an eye. Two will be working in the field and then there will be one. When I was young the thought of the “rapture” scared the bee juice out of me. The threat of the rapture along with the tomb stone in our little county church that read – Enoch walked with God then he was no more - gave a kid a lot to ponder. The best I could figure it out when the “rapture” hit all the Godly folks would float up to heaven leaving those not so Godly people here on earth. I knew those left behind would be busy for a few days getting all the cars off the roads and cleaning up the airplanes that crashed so I would have time to put my plan into action. I knew that God had been keeping score since the day I was born and I was a bit short in the Godly department I would be one of the ones left behind. I had a dog named Skipper that I tried to keep with me at all times. Remember we lived in the country and I was free to wander without supervision. My thought was that Skipper was the best dog in the whole wide world and if the “rapture” occurred while I was out walking in the woods or going down the road to visit family Skipper would suddenly disappear and I would know that the “rapture” had hit. I knew that my Dad would be taken up but figured it was a pretty safe bet that Mother and I would be left behind. My plan was: as soon as Skipper hit the wind I would run home and Mother and I would take out looking for my cousins – I knew for a fact they would be left behind! If for no other reason than for all the things they had done to me. Together we would form our own little city and take care of each other. My plan did not go much further than uniting with my Mom and my derelict cousins. I have no idea what I felt I had done at age 8 or so that was so bad that I would forfeit my right to leave on the rapture express. But in my little pea brain I figured God was looking down from heaven and keeping up with every single little bad thing I did and I always had to keep the score even. In my mind’s eye I knew God’s scale was not tipped in my favor. Not sure how this notion formed, I guess something I heard at church got kind ‘a twisted in my young mind.
I would like to report that around the age of 12 or so I came to the realization that God did not have a smite button He was subject to push at any moment. Unfortunately it was much later in life before I understood and accepted the love and grace of my Heavenly Father. Trying to balance God’s scales followed me well into my adult life. I just could not imagine myself worthy of God unconditional love. Trust me I was not a bad person, for the most part I was a very loving and caring person. Just never caring or loving enough to balance the scale in my favor.
Now liberating it was when I finally realized that I was worthy of God’s love and grace. The realization that God was not out “to get me” but wanted the very best that life had to offer literally brought me to my knees. To know and understand that I could ask for forgiveness and receive was an awesome feeling.
I know longer believe that the “rapture” will leave empty cars and airplanes. My Mom and Dad have both died and I know they are BOTH in heaven enjoying every moment in God total presence. I also know I will be there with them one day – although I might not make it on the express elevator a stop in purgatory won't be a bad thing!
As for Enoch walking with God and then he was not more – when I was a kid I made sure God was never where I walked! Now I pray that He is with me every step I take.

Hitch in my get-a-long!

2007-07-26T21:31:00.000-04:00

Have you ever been sailing along thinking life is good and all of a sudden out of nowhere you get a hitch in your get along? Well, this week I received such a hitch! I have been with the same company for almost 10 years. Tuesday a meeting was called. The beginning of the email sounded like a jury summons. You know the one - setting all business aside. There were to be no excuses accepted you would be there. In all the years I have been with the company that has never happened so I had enough sense to know something was up. Speculation ran ramped among those that had been summoned to the Ivory Tower. None of us ever suspected what we were to learn at 1:45 Tuesday afternoon. The owners of the company have made the decision that they are going to sell the management company. AND they had the new guys there to say Hello. Where did this come from, had we all been asleep and missed the signs that this was about to happen? Who knows! All I know is I will soon be working for a company that I did not apply to.
I think overall it will be a good thing especially for the younger employees. Some have advanced as far as possible with the company. Having new owners that plan to grow the company will open new areas of opportunity for current employees that were not available before. Let me be the first to say God Bless all of those that want to climb the corporate ladder – but it ain’t me babe.
I am just not up to the task of climbing, I am real happy sitting on my little rung. Just too dang old! I was in great hopes that I would be able to ride out my final years of employment with the current company and fade quietly into the sunset and becoming the greeter at Wal-Mart. Being the Greeter at Wal-Mart has long been a dream of mine. To stand at the door and simply smile and wave at people has to be the greatest gig going. No one ever yells at the Greeter. No one ever expects the Greeter to make decisions that may impact a person for the rest of their life. No one ever ask to borrow money from the Greeter. The greeter does not have a To Do List that never gets done. The Greeter never looks at his watch and realizes that it is 3 pm and he has not had lunch or gone to the bathroom all day. The Greeter simply greets. Yeah, that the job for me!
So, here I am at almost 60 standing at yet another crossroads. OK God, I hear you laughing! Glad to be of entertainment value for you again. I know that if God has brought me to it He will bring me through it. I know that God’s will in my life is so much better for me than I could ever imagine. So, I will let go and let God. That does not mean that I will not work hard, I firmly believe that God helps those that help themselves. I will work hard to make the acquisition go smoothly and will continue to work hard for the new owner’s. Just hope they don’t ask this old crippled up woman to jump too high.
Don’t ever take anything or anyone for granted. Things can change with a blink of an eye or the shake of a hand.

When I am an old lady!

2007-07-23T19:57:00.000-04:00

When I'm an old lady, I'll live with each kid, And bring so much happiness...just as they did. I want to pay back all the joy they've provided. Returning each deed! Oh, they'll be so excited! (When I'm an old lady and live with my kids) I'll write on the wall with reds, whites and blues, And I'll bounce on the furniture...wearing my shoes. I'll drink from the carton and then leave it out. I'll stuff all the toilets and oh, how they'll shout! (When I'm an old lady and live with my kids) When they're on the phone and just out of reach, I'll get into things like sugar and bleach. Oh, they'll snap their fingers and then shake their head, (When I'm an old lady and live with my kids) When they cook dinner and call me to eat, I'll not eat my green beans or salad or meat, I'll gag on my okra, spill milk on the table, And when they get angry...I'll run...if I'm able! (When I'm an old lady and live with my kids) I'll sit close to the TV, through the channels I'll click, I'll cross both eyes just to see if they stick. I'll take off my socks and throw one away, And play in the mud 'til the end of the day! (When I'm an old lady and live with my kids) And later in bed, I'll lay back and sigh, I'll thank God in prayer and then close my eyes. My kids will look down with a smile slowly creeping, And say with a groan, "She's so sweet when she's sleeping!" God Bless All Moms and Grandmas and Greatgrandmas Everywhere!

Where do you sit at the table?

2007-07-20T17:56:00.000-04:00

I have lots of bird houses, bird baths and bird feeders in my yard. I love to sit and watch the different types of birds that are attracted to the feeders. I have loads of Cardinals, all types of sparrows, a woodpecker that visits from time to time, blue jays, Robins (they do not feed at the feeders but come by the flocks to feed in the front yard) and they all feed and bath together without any problems. Some birds are loud and have no problem letting anyone who will listen what their needs are; the others don’t pay them much attention. All come together at one table to eat. The only problem they have is the cat from across the street that wanders over from time to time and tries to turn one of my bird feeders into a feline dinner. I have got pretty good with a sling shoot; I can run those pesky cats back across the road with their tails tucked. I have one large area that I put food for the chipmunks and squirrels. The crows stop by and spend time eating with Bother Squirrel. We have a doe and her 2 fawns that come to the edge of the woods and watch the going on’s. A mother fox with two young puppies’ can be seen from time to time playing just outside the tree line. I have not seen any armadillos, but I know they are in the area. There is nothing better in my little corner of the world than to sit on the front porch and watch God’s creatures.

THEN – there are the hummingbirds! I have 5 count them 5 hummingbird feeders and they fight over them like there is only one and I am going to take it away any minute! I sit and watch them perch on a tree limb close to the feeder they have declared as their own. Mind you, there is at least 2 cups of nectar in each feeder, more than enough to feed a number of small hummingbirds for days no matter how hunger they are. There is no sharing; it is not going to happen. If a misguided hummer gets anywhere near the “previously claimed” feeder he will be dive bombed. This little scene is played out all day over and over – no wonder they are so thirsty they expend a lot of energy trying to chase their brothers away. A strange truth is – during nesting season they will all feed peacefully from the same feeder. As soon as the fledging has flown the coop it is every man or woman for themselves.

As I watch the show that nature puts on for me I cannot help but think “how much like real life it is”. Our world is made up of so many different types of people. Not only are we different sizes, shapes and colors but we have different ways of looking at how to share the table. Some feel that their rightful place is always on the high perch eating the first and best. Others feel unworthy to even sit at the table and eat the left over droppings on the ground. Some are afraid to come and join the feast, they stay in the shades and watch, maybe no one has ever asked them to come and eat.

Where do you think your place at the table is? Jesus said “the last will be first” and “whatever you do for the least of my people you do for me”. It breaks my heart to think that a single person will go to bed hungry tonight. I have been so very blessed all my life. On a mission trip to South America a few years ago I realized just how spoiled I am. I am also well aware of the fact that I cannot solve the problem of world hunger. I do know that I can take the lower perch when opportunity presents itself to let someone less fortunate than me have the first and the best. I can buy someone a meal, pay for a bus ticket, and even let someone use my cell phone to call a loved one. Mother Teresa said - We do not have to do “great thing” we only have to do small things with great love. Do you love your brother enough to let him sit on the top perch?

Sliding in home!

2007-07-18T21:18:00.000-04:00

Do you ever go shopping and buy something, hang it in your closet and take it out in a few days and wonder to yourself –“Self what were you thinking when you bought that”. I do this more now days than I use to. I think it is because in my mind’s eye I am 25. I have not caught onto the idea that I am pushing 60 real hard. When I look in the mirror I wonder who the heck is that old lady and who let her in my house! It is like when you run into someone you went to school with and you think “man do they look old” and you realize they are the same age as you. Then you say a silent pray that time has been better to you than it has to them. When you get home you rush to the mirror and only confirm that you in deed are old. Being old does not bother me – I just can’t figure out how I got here. I just graduated from high school a couple of years ago – on wait that can’t be right I have children in their thirties. While I am on that subject – when did they get so darn old? My Grandmother always said time passes faster the older you get – if it passes by me any faster I will have to celebrate the 4th of July and Christmas on the same day.
I remember having a conversation with my Dad many years ago and I told him I could not understand why anyone would want to die. I loved life then and still do. The world is full of so many wonderful people, places and things; my thought was how anything could be better. Dad in his infinite wisdom told me that as we get older God puts a desire in our hearts to be united with Him and our family and friends. I did not have very many folks at that time in my life that had taken their final journey home. Haven seemed like a faraway place filled with strangers, it might be a nice place to visit but the here and now was as far as I could see. Now that I am “old” I understand what Dad was telling me so many years ago. I still love life – everyday is an adventure for me. It can never be said that I did not take time to smell the roses or daisies or marigolds or anything that happens along my path. BUT in those quite moments when I take time to listen to that small still voice I do feel a yearning to be go home – I have lots of folks on the other side now. Family and friends alike and I will be happy to see them again. To sit at the feet of the Lord and Mary did feel my heart with a yearning that almost takes my breath away.
I am not saying I want to make my final journey anytime soon. Heck, I feel like I got several more good years in me. I have not lived long enough to become a burden on my kids – pay back is going to be heck! There are still roads I have not gone down, flowers I have not smelled, places I have not seen and people I have not meet. I want to live long enough to enjoy as much of everything as possible. When my life is over I don’t want to walk in to home plate, I want to slide in yelling “Thank you God for letting me live such a blessed life – now I’m here to help You get this place straight!”

You've come along way Baby - maybe too far!

2007-07-16T21:25:00.000-04:00

I wish my Grandmother could have lived long enough to see a Super Wal-Mart. Every time I visit one of the mega stories I am in awe of the fact that I can buy donuts and fertilizer at the same store. I can load it all in the same buggy and throw in a couple of pairs of step-ins (panties) if I feel like it. I can get a prescription filled and while I wait to hear my name called over the loud speaker, I can get my oil changed or buy a new set of tires. “You have come a long way baby” since you’re up bringing in Collinsville. We had a 5 & 10 Store, Graves which was a general store, a feed and seed store, a small grocery store, a bank and a movie theater. A big day out was when we went to the City. For the most part families were self sufficient. They grew their own vegetables, raised killed and cured their own meat. For things like flower, salt and sugar there was a “peddler” that came by every week or two. I told you I grew up in the country – we were so far back in the woods that they had to pipe in sun shine. We never missed going into town when the chickens were hatching in the incubator at the Feed Store. Now, you want to talk about a good time – kids with their noses pressed against a window to watch chicken break out of the shell. This was the highlight of our week, heck make that a month. No one on the mountain had a T.V. so we had to find our excitement where ever we could. We were the first ones on the mountain to get a T.V. – it was a big box and it took a long time for it to warm up. On any given Friday or Saturday night our living room was full of family and friends. I remember the women sat in the back of the living room and the men up closer to the T.V. I never recall them watching anything but wrestling. I was just glad to be a part of the party. My Grandmother would cover her face with her apron when the wrestling got brutal. She just knew the poor guy getting beat up was going to die. Remember – we were in Alabama and they took wrestling “real” serious.
We were also the first family on the mountain to get a telephone – I can still see my Mom picking up the receiver, waiting for the dial tone – then looking around and saying “I have no idea who to call”. It was not long until the phone was ringing. All our family and friends got their own phone. We were on what was called a “party line”. Don’t remember how many people were on a party line but each person had their own ring. Two shorts and a long, one long and 2 shorts everyone knew their ring and the rings of everyone else on the party line. SO – If there had been talk at church on Sunday about so and so – if you heard their ring you could pick up your receiver and listen in. Since there was not much other entertainment on a rainy day we would listen to everyone else’s calls. It was sad folks really sad. If only there had been a Super Wal-Mart back then.
We got all gushed up to go to town. No shorts and flip flops – we dressed for the occasion. I don’t remember my parents buying much when we went into town. Mostly they stood on the sidewalk and talked to their friends. I remember that I could not wait until I got to go in the grocery store – my Uncle worked there and he always had chewing gum in his pocket. How we managed to spent almost all day on that one small street still escapes me. I just know that we did and I knew everyone and they knew me. My Mom did not have to hold my hand or make sure she could see me every minute. I knew to behave, because the people in that small Village did raise the kids. If Ms. Oliver say you misbehaving she had your parents’ permission to snatch you ball headed, grab you by the nape of the neck and march you to your parents – where you would get the whooping of your life for embarrassing your family.
You know while I was in the Wal-Mart I did not see a single person I knew, no one spoke to me and kids were running amuck. On second thought I am glad my Grandmother did not live to see a Super Wal-Mart. She would have taken to her bed for days just seeing the way folks were dressed!

Where Do All the Roads begin?

2007-07-15T19:22:00.000-04:00

Today Tom and I went out to pick up a few things at the dreaded mall. On the way home he started to make our usual turn. I said “no go straight, there is something I want you to see”. After driving a few miles the road came to a dead end at what looked to be an old county club. All the buildings are boarded up but they have put in a walking track around a beautiful little pond, it winds through what appears to be an old golf course. Tom did not even have to ask how I found the place, he knows about my fascination with roads and knowing where they go. When I was a little kid one of my constant questions to the adults around me was “Where do all the roads in the whole world start”. Every time we piled in that old 1950 Ford pickup I would wonder out loud if we were going to pass the place that all the roads started. Yes, I will be the first to admit that this was a strange obsession for a small child but I was always a bit strange. Finally one day my Uncle J. B. took me for a walk down the dirt road outside our house. We came to a small road in the middle of a corn patch we ventured only a few yards when the road stopped. It ran right into the corn field! Here is where my uncle told me “all the roads in the world started”.
This was enough to settle a 4 year olds mind. We lived on top of Sand Mountain in Collinsville Alabama and I had never been further than Gadsden. My world was pretty small so the fact that “all the roads in the world” started right down the road from my house was easy for me to accept. I would go to that very spot a few times a week and revel in the fact that all the “roads in the world” started right where I was standing. Then one day we went to visit my Aunt and Uncle in Memphis, Tennessee. I realized that there were a whole lot more roads in the world that I had ever imagined. And, I guess you could say I have been looking for the spot where “all the roads in the world start” ever since. When the kids were small and I decided to go down a road just to see where it went I would tell them we were on an adventure. They would always sing out “That means we are LOST”. I have to admit sometimes we were lost – but for the most part we would find something new and exciting to look at.
I would love to tell you that at my age I have out grown the desire to turn down roads in search for “where all the roads start” but I have not. Given the opportunity to do so I can ramble for hours on back roads. Yes, sometimes I get lost. I will tell you a story about one such time – this happened less than 2 years ago.
I had been looking for a new puppy and had settled on a Papillon. Little did I know that they are a bit hard to find. I located a breeder just south of where we live. I made an appointment to visit I had checked the directions several times and felt I would have no problem locating her home. I did pretty well until I got to the place where the “hard road” stopped and the gravel road started. I thought she said take the third drive on the left – but as I would later learn it was the third “hard” drive on the right. So, I am riding along talking on the phone as usual and made the 3 turn on the left onto what appeared to be a dirt drive – I had only traveled a short distance when I realized that my bug was not moving. The wheels were turning but I was not going forward. I got out of the car to discover that my VW Bug looked like a giant turtle stuck on a rut with all it legs dangling in the air. I tried everything within my power to move the bug, I put rocks under the wheels, I drug downed tree limbs and tried to stick them under the wheels to get traction. All was to no avail. Why didn’t I just call Tom – are you kidding – Tom would not learn about this until months later. I had no idea what to do so I walked back out to the main “dirt road” I meet a guy in a old pickup truck and he agreed to see if he could pull my bug off of its current resting spot. Long story short his truck would not budge the bug. He told me to wait and he would go home and get his tractor and a logging chain and he would pull her off. Shortly I hear the putt putt of an old John Deere I look up to see possibly the oldest tractor I had ever laid eyes on. The old guy turned the tractor and started backing towards the bug – then he yelled “Scotch her, scotch her, I don’t have any brakes”. Thankfully I had grown up in the country and knew what “scotch her” meant. I grabbed one of the downed limbs and threw under the tractor wheels just before the tractor reached the bug. He hooked that logging chain on something on the underside of the bug climbed back on hid trusted John Deere and snatched my bug right off that rut. Everything was fine – we checked for oil leaks and there were none. God was laughing at me once again but in the end He was there. Mr. Tallis and I talked for a long time, turned out that he was born on Sand Mountain and knew my “folks”. We shared stories about the good old days and parted friends.
If I had not made a wrong turn that day I would have missed the opportunity to meet and share stories with someone I never would have noticed. Sometimes we get so caught up in our “lives” that we forget to take time to enjoy all the things around us that God has put here for us to enjoy – SO He creates a detour for us. Most of the time I create my own – but on occasion The Big Guy throws one in. I will continue to go down roads that I have never traveled – who knows someday maybe I’ll meet you!Yes, I did find the ladies house and yes I did buy a Papillon from her. Now if I could just remember where she lives I would take this spoiled brat back to her. Toby has no idea he is a dog!

I grew up in Alabama - now you know my deep dark secret!

2007-07-14T10:08:00.000-04:00

Yes, I was born and raised in Alabama. Trust me I have heard all the Alabama jokes know to man. Strange thing is I never knew there was anything wrong with folks from Alabama until I left. I still have family in Alabama so I go for a visit from time to time and it is like taking a step back in time. People that visit Alabama for the first time should be warned “things in this state may appear to have been caught in a time gap, and they have”. When I tell people I lived without indoor plumbing until I was 10 no one believes me. “Oh, you are not old enough to have grown up using an outhouse”. I have the pictures to prove it – for some strange reason every picture of our house in the country had the “outhouse” in the background. What I am telling you is Alabama is 20 years behind other states – it kind’a like dog years - in Alabama I would be 80. When we moved to Georgia the transition for me was not an easy one. I grew up hearing phrases like –“it’s fix’n to come up a storm” – “it is darken than midnight under a skillet in here” – “they will be here directly” and the list goes on and on. When I asked the teacher for a “poke” to take my stuff home in, it took her off the deep end and I was sent to diction classes. Yes, folks I was in ESL (English as a Second Language) class long before it became popular. Not sure the classes helped that much but I don’t say poke any more but fix’n to, down yonder and do you need me to carry you to the airport are still active words in my speech. My husband’s family is from Wisconsin and he still has to translate for them from time to time. For the most part day to day communication is not a problem for me – might be for others – but I have reached the age that “demands” respect so people don’t correct me anymore.
I enjoyed life in the country, not so much the outhouse but life for the most part was wonderful. I did not have a TV, Game boy or IPod but I do not ever remember telling my parents I was bored. Yes, I was an only child but I never got to fully enjoy that title as we always had someone living with us. If you had a hard luck story my Dad was there to take you in. So the stigma that goes with being an “only” does not really apply. My parents were “older” when I was born thus making me the youngest cousin in the bunch and that did buy me some special treatment. Yes, I remember vividly the special treatment I received the day the boy’s (my cousins) put me out the back door of the school bus about 3 miles from home. Then there was the special treatment I received the day the boys rolled me in poison ivy for telling on them for smoking rabbit tobacco. Yes I was “special”! As I look back the “boys” may not have had a Game Boy to entertain them but they made good use of me. I sustained no lasting physical or mental injuries from their special treatment but I gained a life time full of wonderful memories. You, see I may have been their entertainment but NO ONE else was allowed to even look at me crossed ways. One of the boys was always my shadow. I also got to go with them to the creek for a swim, I was even allowed to go on dates every once in awhile.

Yes, growing up in the country was a great adventure. I never had to attend sex education classes; I saw the wonder of reproduction everyday living on a farm. I never had had to be taught to respect my elders – I learned early on that any adult had the right to smack me if I smarted off. Stealing was not a problem – no one had anything you didn’t. Our closest neighbor lived a mile away but you never had to ask permission to go visit – just be home before dark. I learned that hard work would not kill you and if a neighbor needed your help they did not have to ask. I learned about Our Father from My Father. I learned that LOVE is more important than things.
I wish I could say that I continue to follow the lessons learned so many years ago but most of them have been lost not just for me but for our culture in general. Yes, I know my neighbors some of them by name but I have no idea of their needs. My family can attest to the fact that I have more “STUFF” than I possibly will ever need. I have a Game Boy, an IPod, a laptop, a desktop – the list goes on and on. The one lesson I have never forgotten is “Love” and “kindness” are the most important possessions one can own.

God has a sense of humor! I know He is laughing at me.

2007-07-10T20:27:00.000-04:00

Have you ever had one of those days that it might have been better if you had stayed in bed? Well, I don’t have them very often but today ranks right up there with the worst of them. I don’t mean “worst” like the day my parents died or the day my best friend lost her battle with lung cancer but just one of those days when things just seemed out of sorts. It started with a pain in my knee that made me what to throw up. I have had both knees replaced and for the most part I have no trouble with either one of them. I did something to mess up my oldest new knee a few days ago and the pain just will not go away. Everyone says I have a high tolerance for pain – whatever that means. Yes, I can have dental work done without shots, I have too many tattoos’ to count and when I had my knee replaced I did not have to get my pain meds refilled. So, is that a “high tolerance” for pain? I have no idea! When you are in the hospital after surgery they ask you “where does your pain rank on a scale from 1 to 10 – 10 being the worst.” Maybe I have never had the worst pain, so how do I judge it? I digress – back to my day. I finally got enough BC powers in me to numb the pain – BC powers are pretty much a Southern thing, it is something like an aspirin crushed up in a little pouch that you pour on your tongue and wash down with a swig of Coke or RC cola. I hobble out to the truck – have to drive the truck today because I have to pick up a pressure washer at one property and take it to another one. Make it to pick it up – had to down another BC on the way. I have to admit I am not the brightest crayon in the pack but I should have made sure the guy strapped the dang thing down. In my BC induced haze I headed for my next stop – I am sure you can guess where this is going. I had to slam on the brakes and BAM the power washer came through the back window. I live in Atlanta so at first I thought I had been shot! After taking a quick inventory of my parts I realized I was OK but the truck did not fair quite as well. I did not ever bother to get out of the truck – no need at that point. It has not rained in Atlanta in weeks, maybe months AND you guessed it! I have no back window and it starts pouring the rain. Oh, well – all I can say is God has one heck of a sense of humor. Finally got where I was going to drop the window eating machine. Walked in the office and the manager starts screaming – “You have blood running down your arm”. Dang if I didn’t, guess some of the glass hit the back of my arm, there was certainly no chance I was going to bleed to death. They insisted on cleaning me up and patching up my wounds. The maintenance man put plastic over my window and used Alabama Chrome (duct tape) to affix the plastic to the cab of the truck. It was no ordinary duct tape it was black and yellow – looked like the tape police use at crime scenes. Off I go again – looked a little like Fred Sanford. My VW bug is my mode of transportation choice but today I HAD to drive the truck – now I am driving down 285 in a TRUCK with a garbage bag duct taped to the back window. AND it starts to rain again – I turn on the windshield wipers and the one on the driver’s side FLYS off. OK, God you have my attention. Understand that I do not think God did any of this to me – but I sure was counting on him getting me out of it! I did make it home and the guy will be here in the morning to replace the rear shield or whatever you call it. I have taken off all the bandages and eaten a pint of Rocky Road ice cream. Tomorrow will be better! Well, until I step on the scales and discover that the pint of ice I ate has caused me to gain 5 lbs. during the night. Keep laughing God, I am glad I can be of some entertainment for you - but just remember one day I will be up there with you and pay back is going to be - well you get the picture.

Catholic's worship Mary? Or NOT!

2007-07-08T11:38:00.000-04:00

In a couple of words “We don’t”. My husband and I teach RCIA classes and we often have to play “Ten Catholic Questions”. Why do Catholics worship Mary is always at the top of the list. Why the Catholic beliefs about Mary still remain so misunderstood among non-Catholics is a mystery to me. I know that it is a question of educating John Q Public, and let’s admit it Catholics have never been known for their evangelization or the ability to defend their religion. Due to Adult education classes now being conducted in many Catholic Church’s we are getting better! To be a good Catholic there are three things that we are required to believe about Mary – Immaculate Conception, Ever Virgin and her Assumption into heaven. You never have to say a single prayer to Mary and ask for her intercession on your behalf. You do not have to pray the Rosary everyday or ever. You do not have to have a single statue of her in your home or on the dashboard of your car or a Rosary hanging from your car mirror. In fact if you choose not to pray to the Blessed Mother it will just give her more time to listen to me! One of the greatest gifts the Catholic Church gave me after my conversion was Mother Mary. She is my constant companion on the journey, a friend I can go to anytime and know that she will listen and take my concerns and thanksgiving to Jesus her son. I could type forever about my feelings about Mary and how she has helped me during times of personal grief and strife. Bottom line - if your devotion to Mary does not lead you to a closer relationship with Jesus then you are not doing something right. Throughout her live Mary pointed us towards her son and that is her purpose even today. Remember when Jesus performed His first Miracle at the wedding feast at Cana – they ran out of wine and Mary went to Jesus and told Him that they needed more wine – Jesus told her “My time has not come” meaning that it was not time that for Him to reveal himself – then being a good son he did as him Mother ask and Mary told the waiters at the Wedding Feast to “DO AS HE TELLS YOU”. This should be our attitude, too. Mary like Johns the Baptist, points us to Jesus Christ who is alone the Savior and Redeemer. She does intercede for us but her answer is always “DO as HE says”. We simply ask that Mary present our prayers, our needs to God. This does not mean or imply that Mary has any special power apart from the saving power of God. In praising Mary, we are praising and thanking God for the power and love God shows to Mary.

What do Catholics believe about Mary? This is all that we as Catholic’s are required to believe.
1. Immaculate Conception - Catholics believe that Mary was conceived and born free of Original Sin. By reason of her unique role in God's plan of redemption she was united with God from the beginning and was endowed by God with an unsurpassable degree of grace.
2. Ever Virgin – Mary was ever virgin – she was a virgin before, during and after the birth of Jesus. Frankly, I cannot see what the problem is! Many, who deny Mary's perpetual virginity, nevertheless affirm her virginity before and during Jesus' birth. Yet the Virgin Birth of Jesus required an astounding miracle, and Mary's lifelong virginity afterwards required none. To object to the latter doctrine while admitting the former seems to strain out a gnat while swallowing a camel.
3. The Assumption - Catholics believe that at her death, Mary was taken into heaven body and soul. Her body was not placed in the ground to decay.
I will agree that some seem to take their devotion to Mary to a point that might cause those looking in to call it “worship”. That was certainly was never Mary’s intent!

It was about family, fun and food

2007-07-05T20:04:00.001-04:00

Well, the 4th has come and gone. I can't believe that the 4th was on a Wednesday, who's poor planning was that? We made the most of it. Lots of food, fun, sun, family and friends. Isn't that what the 4th is all about? Celebrating our freedom to celebrate our freedom and remembering all those that have fought and are fighting to give us the right to celebrate. My Dad always loved the 4th of July, he was retired military and knew what the rest of us did not grasp about just how important this day was. He always made homemade ice cream. Dad and the ice cream were missing this year, both were remembered with fond thoughts and laughter. I lost court of the number of kids in the pool and the of hot dogs that were eaten. The line to make you own banana split seemed endless. The dogs running around thought they were in heaven - food just kept falling from the sky. Keep in mind this was mostly family with a few friends sprinkled in here and there. My Grandson was happy, his cousins and his Buddy were there to join in the party. Not to mention that YA YA stayed in the pool with him for 3 hours. Night time came fireworks were shot into the starry sky - it was picture perfect - until the kids started crying and the dogs joined in right on que. It had been a wonderful day, one I hope the kids hold in their hearts and mind until they have children of their own - and they can sit and talk about "how it was when they were kids". God, I give you thanks and praise for a Country that is free and a family that still understands the meaning of "celebrating" together. God bless us each and everyone. Amen

Just why does a Baptist Minister become a Catholic Deacon?

2007-07-02T19:59:00.000-04:00

In a word the EUCHARIST.
First off it takes a long time, a life time I guess you could say. I am never sure where to start when I am asked to tell this story. There are several starting points and picking one can make it a short funny story or a long journey. I will try to give you the short version. Tom went into a Baptist seminary right out of high school, he felt God was calling him and he answered the phone. From the very start Tom had problems with what he was being taught. For example – the teacher stated that Baptist could trace their roots back to Jesus time. After some investigation Tom was unable to substantiate this claim. Baptist did not show up by name until the 1600’s. He discussed it with his roommate and his roommate said “there is no way these teachers can be wrong, they have been teaching for years. Maybe Baptist was called something else to being with”. “Yes”, Tom answered” we were called Catholic”. It was much like that for 4 years. Why did he stay you ask – what else was he to do? God had called him and when he got out of seminary he would have his own church and could do things HIS way. Tom was not familiar with just how big of a part the Southern Baptist Conference played in how he would RUN his church. For 14 years Tom was the pastor of 3 churches and a missionary for 2 years. He often tried to change things – liking asking the congregation to come down to the front of the church to receive communion. Needless to say that was not a success. There were many different attempts to “change” how his congregation perceived communion. After a long and heartbreaking time in his life Tom made the decision to leave the only profession he knew and a calling he felt deep within his soul. His words – “I can no longer run a church like it is J.C. Penny’s (after all it was a business) and I am tired of feeling like Johnny Carson (he was expected to entertain them for an hour a week)”.
What does an unemployed Baptist Minister do? He could teach school but having tried that before he knew that was not the answer. He was either over qualified or under qualified; finally he landed a job as a dispatcher for a Heating and Air company. He worked his way up and became a project manager. Tom remains in that position to this day.
Going to church was a hassle – if they found out Tom was a former pastor the current pastor was sure he was there to take his job. If they were secure enough in their position they worked him to death – hey free labor is what every church is looking for. Years were spent drifting from one church to another. Tom held fast to his Baptist roots. Not me I had been ready to chop those suckers loose for a very long time. I was raised a Baptist, my Dad was a deacon and we were at church every time the doors opened. I had not been buying what they were selling for years. For the most part I had kept my feelings to myself. What was I to say – My Dad was a deacon and my husband was a pastor. So, for the first time in my life I felt free to EPLORE. I think I went to every denomination know and some that were not on the map yet. After a short foray into the Unity Church, I came home one day and Tom announced that we were going to become “Catholic”. Catholic, well now that was one I had not tried – so what the heck!
Tom had read the entire Catechism and made questions. He made an appointment with a Priest at a nearby parish. We spent almost 3 hours with Fr. John and he was able to satisfy most of Tom’s question. Fr. John suggested that we attend a RCIA class. We did – and the rest as they say is history. We went to class for almost a year. The priest tried to get Tom to skip the process as they felt 6 years of seminary had prepared him. Tom declined and I was so very happy that he did. For the first time in my life I was able to embrace belief’s that were mine – NOT my Dad’s or my husband’s. We came into the church at Easter; Tom waited 3 years before he started the 5 year training process to become a Deacon. He was ordained Feb. 22, 2007.
Tom has always believed that John Chapter 6 is a true statement - that Christ is present in communion (Eucharist). Now every time he receives the Eucharist he is able to live out a lifelong belief.
I will throw in a little tidbit here – Tom was baptized Catholic the day he was born. You see his Mom was a lapsed Catholic marrying a previously married Baptist. Tom was born with cerebral palsy and was not expected to live, his Mom had them call in a priest and Tom was indeed baptized. Tom did not know about this until he started his journey into the Catholic faith. Tom’s Mom died many years ago, her younger sister filled in all the details.

When I get old I will smoke cigars and wear purple

2007-07-01T09:30:00.000-04:00

Have you ever spent the night trying to remember something? Well, I had one of those nights! Before I fell asleep I was trying to remember the bible readings for the day. It had only been a few hours since we attended Mass but for the life of me I could not remember the Gospel reading. We had a visiting Priest – our Priest is on vacation for a couple of weeks – he is retired and spends his weekends filling in for priest. I really enjoyed his Homily and could remember most of the sage wisdom he passed on. BUT for the life of me the gospel reading that he was talking about escaped me. Guess it was my part-timers kicking in. So, every time I woke up my feeble mind was still trying to reach in to space and come up with the verse. I woke up with a headache, and wouldn’t you know it as soon as I got up this morning and had a cup of coffee I remembered. It would have been no problem to go to the daily readings on line and look it up but OH NO that would be too simple. I have this great fear of “loosing” what little mind I have so I try and give it a work out whenever possible – why it wants to work at night while I am trying to sleep is beyond me. I have to stay as alert as possible for as long as possible. My kids are lurking in the background just waiting to pick out my nursing home and pay back for all the “wonderful” entertaining things I did to them will be HELL. No, I was not a clothes hanger beating Mom – I have always loved life and laughter – sometimes my laughs came at their expense. When they were teenagers they bought me a dog to play with on Saturday mornings so I would not wake them up so early to play with me. I woke my son up early one morning to see the rabbit in the backyard, his comment “Mom we live in the country we always have rabbits in the yard – DAD come and get Mom and play with her.” I now have a grandson and I can tell you playing with him is the most fun I have had any many a years. Laughter comes easy for a 2 year old, rolling in the grass or spraying Ya Ya with the water hose can bring on fits of uncontrollable giggles. There is no sweeter sound that my grandsons laughter and no better site than the smile on his face when he sees me. Yes, I may have part-timers and recalling the lady across the roads name is a stretch for me some days but none of this matters to my grandson. Maybe I will let him pick out my nursing home!

Catholic house Blessing

2007-06-30T20:05:00.000-04:00

Tom had a house blessing this afternoon. It is something us Catholics do. I am not sure how this tradition got started BUT I don't think Catholic were the one to come up with it. Our daughter in law is Asian and was raised Buddhist and I have been to many house blessings for her family. They would never think of moving into a house before the Monks came and blessed it - they make quite an event out of the whole thing. The Monks come first thing on Saturday morning - usually there are 3 or 4 Monks, all dressed in their orange warps. They burn incense, say prayers and sprinkle blessed water on all the entrances, bedrooms and kitchen. After the Monks have finished and received ample pay (food and money) for their job the party begins. There is more food than one can imagine! There are kids running around having a great time. The food, party and family fellowship last long into the night. Now they have the right idea - but then it has been said that Asians will have a party for the sake of having a party. But - there is more to it than a party, it is the whole family thing that they enjoy. Something that as Americans we have forgotten about. I can remember growing up in a rural area. All of my cousins lived right down the "road". Not a weekend went by that we did not all get together and have a cook out or in - and make ice cream. I never felt alone even though I was an only child. I always had "family" around me and we were always sharing good time, good food and great "cousinship". Now days we are so scattered that our kids don't even know who their cousins are. It is sad that this part of our culture has been lost - that kids now days will never have that feeling of "being" a part of something bigger than they are. For this reason I am thankful everyday that my grandson is part of a "big" loving extended family. As for me I will be there for every house blessing, birthday party, birth party, death party or just a party for a party that my "extended" family has. Being part of something bigger than we are makes living and dieing a bit easier.

If we concentrate on the things that make us alike instead of the stuff that makes us different - we would all learn just how much in common we have.

Part of Catholic House Blessing

When Christ took flesh through the Blessed Virgin Mary, he made his home with us. Let us now pray that he will enter this home and bless it with his presence. May he always be here among us; may he nurture our love for each other, share in our joys, comfort us in our sorrows. Inspired by his teachings and example, let us seek to make our home before all else a dwelling place of love, diffusing far and wide the goodness of Christ.

Be our shelter, Lord, when we are at home, our companion when we are away, and our welcome guest when we return, and at last receive us into the dwelling place you have prepared for us in your Father's house, where you live for ever and ever.

Amen

Hey, I am the Ya Ya - he can do what ever he wants!

2007-06-29T20:12:00.000-04:00

This is the face that I spent the day with! I must admit that it did not look this way all day. This occurred when pizza was served for lunch - it was too hot to hold so he ate it like "Clifford". You know the one "Clifford the Big Red Dog". He is all the rage around our house these days - we just overed the "Thomas the Train" phase. While we still lapse into a Thomas mode from time to time - Cilfford is the big draw. From what I can learn Cilfford lives on a island because he got too big for his house - so his family moved to Birdwell Island. It seems that Clifford is owned by Emily Elizabeth and has a couple of friends, one is named T-Bone. I am a bit fuzzy on the rest of the story at this point. What amazes me is that a 2 year old can remember all this stuff.

We went to eat today and there were several people standing outside - and the kid says "Ya Ya those people are smoking, that is not good". No one in the family smokes so I am not sure where he gained this bit of knowledge. We went to a construction area not far from the house - they are building yet another "SUPER Wal-Mart (not to be confused with a regular Wal-Mart - no this one is much larger and requires the removal of a lot more trees) At any rate it is cheap entertainment for a 2 year old boy. He knows the names of all the equipment - back hole, front end loader and so on - so I can't go wrong with a big belly washer from RaceTrac and a shade tree. That kid will sit there for hours just watching them work.

Then we came home - had to let him terrorize the dog for a bit. Toby lives his life either in my lap or laying next to me. Not much interrupts his day EXCEPT a visit from the kid! It will take Toby all weekend to recover.

I got the kid all sugered up before his parents came to get him - he will not sleep for hours! Be a grand parent is great and pay back is hell!

Here goes nothing - literally nothing

2007-06-28T21:06:00.000-04:00

OK - now you can not tell anyone about this blog. It is just between us - you see I a much older than the usual blogger and I don't really have anything of importance to say. Thought this might be a good way to put down a few thoughts from time to time and share some of life's lessons I have been kicked in the teeth with over the pasted 60 years. Maybe I can spare you some expensive dental work.

I am sure you will hear much about my Grandson Hunter 2.5 years old - my dog Toby (Papillon) - My husband Tom who will be put in for Sainthood as soon as he dies by our children for putting up with me all these years. My three kids that are educated way beyond their intelligence. I feel certain I will have to throw in some Catholic guilt and hopefully some humor.