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

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

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 -

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

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 -

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

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

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