Today

I'm on my way this morning to meet my two oldest sons, Paul and Kevin, and Paul's girl, Nicole up at Winter Park to spend the day. The boys will ski; we two girls will get to have some girl time. Woohoo! Thanks to my dear husband for staying home with the children so I can go! I'll take pictures, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to download them, as we're having a problem with our software, doggonit.

And Happy Feast Day of St. John Bosco! Another favorite saint! But, then, of course he is, because we're raising six boys. I wish I had time this morning to expound on why we love this incredible, saintly man and the Salesian method of teaching, but, alas, the mountains call!

My post from last year with some links (which I hope are still good), follows, though!

And here is a wonderful post I came across about St. John and his dreams.

We are huge fans of this saint!

Having started out with four boys, we learned early to rely on his heavenly assistance, and base our homeschooling and much of our parenting philosphy on his methods. Parents might be interested in this letter from St. John Bosco regarding the teaching of children. This great priest knew how to deal with children, but especially boys, let me tell you! We have had great success using him as a role model.Since tomorrow is his feastday, we've been reading aloud this version of the story of Don Bosco this week. The children especially love the ghost story with the Catholic explanation and love the stories of Grigio, his dog.

I'd like to send up our public thanks, again, to you, St. John Bosco, for all you help through the years, and our continuing petitions to remain by our side as a mentor in education, a counselor in our trials, and a guide to heaven! Dear St. John, pray for us!

I Refuse To:

* Feel apologetic toward the hot-rods who want to pass me on our winding country roads when I'm doing the speed limit

(For goodness sake!)

* Wear spiked high-heel or pointy-toe shoes

(Learned that lesson long ago; vanity is not worth the price!)

* Believe William is going to clean up all the playdough if I let him get it out

(Stopped expecting the brownies to come clean my kitchen a long time ago, too...)

* Get sucked into a "child-limiting" discussion on an internet forum

(Ever again!)

* Act like an old woman.

(My husband and I have a "No grunting or groaning" rule to help prevent that...)

*Forget that I'm not a spring chicken anymore

(Like, cartwheels at my age and condition are a really bad idea...)

* Be whined or bribed into doing anything by my children

(But flattery, hugs and kisses work pretty well...)

* Offer to make big bacon, egg, and pancake breakfasts

(This is how I've secured my husband's breakfast-making cooperation lo these many years. --smirksmirk--)

* Let our girls even think of dating until they graduate from high school

(And then they have to bring one of their big brothers along... Mwahahaha!)

* Let our sons re-shingle our incredibly steep roof

(No way!)

* Allow the flood of evil tidings in our world to sink my boat

(Just keeping my eye on the North Star, singing to the rythm of the oars, and keeping my powder dry)

( Tell me if you get tired of my lists, ok? And feel free to add to them, if you like!)

You're not going to believe this...

The Consumer Product Safety Commission is feeling its oats these days, it would appear. In the name of our children's safety, it's trying to destroy the thrift store industry by requiring all children's clothing and products to be tested before resale. Yeah, right. My family would have to start going nekkid without thrift stores, so we are very alarmed at this news. We have heard that, having had no choice but to hear the insistent, loud complaints of thrift store retailers and families like mine who would, indeed, go nekkid, the CPSC changed its mind and relaxed its stringent rules. But, just a bit.

We are hoping that before the enactment of the Product Safety Improvement Act on February 10th, a little more sanity might prevail. But, it won't without more pestering from those of us who care about this.

Here is where to write your Senator.

Here is where to write your Reps.

But, Hang onto Your Hat,

THERE'S MORE

As if the thrift store thing weren't enough, check out the following:

CPSC ruling requires children’s books to be removed for safety testing

WASHINGTON, D.C. – The American Library Association (ALA) released a letter to Congress yesterday, urging members to take action against a recent opinion ruling released from the General Counsel of the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) that would require public, school, academic and museum libraries to either remove all their books or ban all children under 12 from visiting the facilities, beginning on February 10.

This a direct quote from the American Library Association website.

(H/T: Alice at A Number of Things)

Here are some links to where you can have your voice heard to end this insanity at the library.
And, make sure your Reps and Senators hear from you about this, too.

Can you see the constant erosion of our rights going on here? Do you see that it may become illegal to have a yardsale in our country? We will not be able to enjoy children's books with our children unless we buy them new. The liberal wakkos are running amok!

And it's only just begun, folks.

God help America.

Feast of St. Francis de Sales

Traditional feast day: January 29th, followed in two days by one of his great devotees and the founder of the Salesian Order, St. John Bosco.

St Francis de Sales is another one of my favorite saints. (How many does that make now?) I love his gentle, nature-filled lessons for us. It's hard to believe, but I've read that he started out life with a choleric disposition, impatient and inclined toward anger. You could never tell it by his writings! That he could reform so completely, by the grace of God and much perserverence, gives me hope!

Here is an online reprint of St. Francis' Treatise on the Love of God .

Here is today's quote from the Oblates of St. Francis Daily St. Francis DeSales :

"To ensure that the saints pray and intercede for us, we must invoke them and ask their help The best way to celebrate their feasts is to realize the power they have with God for obtaining the graces of which we stand in need. Our Lord is so pleased when we profit from the intercession of the saints that, wishing to bestow on us some favor, He often inspires us to seek their mediation and invites us to ask them to pray for us. With full confidence we should seek their help and turn to them, especially on their feast days, without doubting for a moment that they will listen to us and will obtain for us what we are asking." (Sermons 51, O. X, pp. 136-137)

And here is my prayer to our patron of the day:

Dear St. Francis de Sales, patron of communicators, pray for all of us who navigate the modern world through the internet. Help us to use it as a source of edification and a means of communicating to others only what is pleasing to God.

The Red Rubber Ball and Other Ephemera

Catherine had one of my husband's little blue raquetballs the other day, bouncing it, bouncing it, bouncing it. And, yeah, it got to be a little annoying... until it jarred a memory out of my head. (I'm having a lot of that lately. Does that mean I'm approaching my dotage, or what?)

When I was about eight years old, I had a red rubber ball. It was summer, we had a big driveway and miles of sidewalk surrounding us, and, for some reason, that summer I was all about that ball. (That and the Gilligin-style hat I incessently wore, but that's another story.)

Anyway, I was all about that ball. And all about bouncing it. Nonstop. Everywhere I went, except in the house, which my mother summarily forbade. But, I remember the addictiveness of the act of bouncing that red ball. There was something about the slight give of the hard rubber, the way it fit in my hand, the satisfying sound of its thud on the concrete, and the accomplishment of catching it hundreds of times in a row.... It just filled some gap in my soul, I guess. Or more likely, it was just something to do with my hands during an awkward season of my adolescence.

But the memory of that red rubber ball is a happy moment in my childhood.

Red Rubber Ball - The Cyrkle

There are a lot of silly little things that go into making memories of a happy childhood. We never went on a fancy vacation in our lives, our parents didn't go in for the latest gadgets or buy us expensive toys, but I remember my childhood through a happy, bazooka-bubble-gum-pink haze. Time passed slowly because we bounced and slinkied and silly-puttied through the years.

Do you remember growing up and going through game fads? We still did in the '70s and early '80s, anyway. There was the yoyo phase, which came on the tails of the Smothers Brothers show. Anybody remember that?


Then there was a marbles phase, and a jumping rope phase (American and Chinese), and throughout grade school, we obsessed at one time or another over jacks, cats cradle, magnifying glasses, and Madlibs. All our recesses and free time were taken up by one or another of these playground passtimes. Becoming proficient was a right of passage.

But, I can't help but wonder, and tell me honestly, do I sound like a hopeless old-timer waxing nostalgic here?

Do kids in general still enjoy these things? My children have, but I worry that it's because they're homeschoolers with a nostalgic mother who encourages it. It would be a sad thing if computers, i-pods, cell phones and wiis took the place of hopscotch, marbles, checkers, and jumprope. I hate to think of a world where a nine-year-old knows how to download a computer game but doesn't know what a cat-eye is, or where little girls text one another, but don't know how to skip in time to the "Cinderella dressed in yella" rhyme.

It's not just a few scattered families that keep these things alive, is it? Will the old playground games fade from the earth, like man's knowledge of the stars and the seasons? Will there be a day when these simple, untechnological pleasures are footnotes on Wikipedia? Tell me we aren't going there.

Because if we are, somebody better stop the merry-go-round; I want to get off.

(Please excuse the really weird formatting here. It would appear that I'm much better suited to playing with yoyos than to tinkering with the html on this silly computer. And now that I've messed it up, I can't seem to fix it. Go figure that! Can we just call it an "artsy" presentation of this post?)

Brrrrr...

The Polar Bear

The Polar Bear is unaware











Of cold that cuts me through:
For why? He has a coat of hair.

I wish I had one too!

~ Hillaire Belloc

* Snowy and cold here this morning. And to think, this time last week it was in the 70s and we were outside in our shirtsleeves!

What's the weather like at your house today?

Like Mother, Like Sons and Daughters

Laura asked me a question that I couldn't fit in the combox.

Which of my amazing and strange little people is most like me?

I've been pondering it all morning, and this is what I've come up with.

Paul (21) is most like me in temperament. He's a choleric-sanguine, strong-willed but sociable. And we both make copious lists, and lists of lists. Plus he has my curly hair. But, he has an amazing drive, tenacity, and intelligence I can only wish for.

Kevin (19) is most like me in taste (except I'd never wear a "Shaggy" beard). We are both avid readers and prefer the same kinds of books and music. We have a similar philosophical bent and are great people-watchers. But, Kevvy has a strength, presence and composure that I lack.

Jonathan (17) shares my aesthetic taste and love of art and all things beautiful. He has a special appreciation and love for the littlest children that I share. But, Jon has a God-given talent in art and music that I can only dream of, and his depths are way deeper than mine.

Dominic (15), like Paul, shares my basic temperament and we both have a special love for the mountains. But, I could never have the twinkle in my eye that is a Dominic trademark. He has a charm and a zest for life that is a special gift.

Michelle (13) loves words like I do, and is especially drawn to poetry. We like the same kinds of books and music and she also inherited the curly hair. But, Michelle's is a gentler spirit than mine. She has a special instinct for endearing herself to others. And I can't touch her in poker.

*

*

*

Theresa (10) loves, loves, loves school just like I always did,

and is another voracious reader. But, she has a natural skill for abstract logic, and a deeply spiritual nature that I wish I had. And there is not a selfish bone in her body.

Cathy (8) is Miss Practicality, with a philosophical bent like Kevin and I have. She's extremely visual like I am, and promises to be a talented artist like Jon. But, Catherine is the most amazing athlete you've ever seen for a wee slip of a girl, a trait I never had. And she has a way better fashion sense than I do.

Anna (6) is strong-willed and imaginative, like I was as a little girl. We're both stubborn, but know "which side our bread is buttered on." We're still getting to know what Anna's all about, but I think she'll be way more dynamic than I am. We think she'll be president of the United States someday.

Gabe (4) loves homey things like I do, and loves his family with all his heart. But he's much sweeter than I could ever hope to be. His little heart is all about loving. Like his sister, Theresa, there's not a selfish bone in his body. Wish I could say that about myself.

William (3) is a ball-o-fire, which my Mom tells me I was at his age. We're still getting to know him, too, but I think William will be more fearless than I am. He is the picture of perfect self confidence at three years old. He may be running against Anna for president someday.

So, who's most like me?

All of them and none of them.

Nobody is my clone, thank goodness! But I can see a little of myself in every one of them. And, thank goodness, I can see a lot of their father. And a lot of individual talents and sparkle that God must have special-picked for each of them. I can't pick just one out that I'd say is most like me. And no two are alike! Out of the whole bunch, you'd think you'd have a couple of obvious subsets, but there are actually about ten to fifty possible groupings, each child crosses over into several, and no two are in the same ones. It's a fascinating thing to see how each of these amazing and strange little people turns into each his or her own perfectly wonderful and individual person.

For the record, if you're interested in genetics:

I have blue-green eyes and my husband has brown eyes, and we ended up with six brown-eyed children, three green-eyed children, and only one blue-eyed child.

I was a tow-head as a child, but my hair darkened to very dark brown by the time I started having children and my husband has always had dark brown hair, and we ended up with six children of dark brown hair, and four who are blonde to light brown.

My hair's curly, my husband's poker straight. Out of the gang we have two curly heads, two with wavy hair, and six with straight hair.

Out of all the children, Catherine looks most like pictures of me when I was her age.

lovely award

Many thank-yous to Esther, Peggy, Cathy, and Marie for this Lovely Award! I'm humbled to be included in this group of especially charming and gracious bloggers. Each of the ladies who thought of me here really is an "exceedingly charming" woman who aims to "find and be friends," just as the award qualifications require, to wit:

“These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in self-aggrandizement. Our hope is that when the ribbons of these prizes are cut, even more friendships are propagated. Please give more attention to these writers. Deliver this award to eight bloggers who must choose eight more and include this cleverly-written text into the body of their award.”

Of course, you know I have to turn around and offer this back to Esther at Catholic Mom in Hawaii, Peggy at Catholic Notebook, Cathy at A Bit of the Blarney,and Marie at View From the Pews. And, even though the following ladies have likely been nominated already, I'd like to add:

Suzy at Sailing by Starlight

Bia at La Dolce Vita

Mighty Mom at My Wonderful Life

Joann at Ten Kids and a Dog

Eileen at Eileen on Him

These Amazing and Strange Little People.

Cathy says this morning, " What if we're just characters in a book someone's reading ~ and when we go to sleep at night that's when they put the book down and stop reading? " Everyone turns to look at her, half of us thoughtfully, the other half, like she has two heads.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Anna was telling me last night after her shower that she has an imaginary friend named Susan who sits on top of the clock in the bathroom while she's bathing. I asked if she keeps her company in there and Anna told me, "No, she doesn't speak to me."


Of course, I asked her why that is.

"Because she doesn't like me; she likes Theresa better," was the answer.

I didn't know you could have an imaginary friend that doesn't like you. You learn something new every day.

Not to worry, though. Her other two imaginary friends, Rose and Ann, just love her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Gabriel looked through every page of the newspaper this morning, separating it all into piles and making comments on pictures he found pertinent to his life. He remarked upon the photos of Shaun White (Surely, everyone knows who he is and not just Coloradans, right?) and says, "That's what we're watching." The whole sports section went into the interesting, but not life-changing pile.


The funny pages were diverting, of course, and went into Gabe's personal to-save pile. A green, leaf-patterned bedspread from Target got a nod and went into Mommy's pile. He found a fairly sober picture of Steve Martin strangely compelling, and ended up putting the USA Weekend section into the interesting pile. He pulled out every vitamin ad he could find and laid it on my lap, along with coupons for dog biscuits, which he tells me we need more of, and Pringles potato chips which he assures me we also need. But, the M&M advertisements he saved for himself.

And the world and local news, business, arts and entertainment, the classifieds and one particular ad for bikinis ~ all went into the trash pile.

He's a wonderfully discerning little fellow, isn't he?

And the Last Shall Be First

I was a cheerleader once. Can you believe that? I wasn't a very good cheerleader; I never could stay in synch with the other girls. And ours wasn't a very good basketball team; they apparently couldnt' stay in synch with one another, either. A ragtag team from a tiny Catholic K-8 in Charleston, SC, it was probably the worst basketball team, in fact, that ever took to the court.

Funny, I hadn't thought about it in years until I read this AP story this morning.

Here's the news story, in short: Last week in Texas, a private girl's school basketball team beat another private school's team 100-0. It was 50-0 at half-time and the winning team apparently decided to make a show out of it, throwing three-pointer after three-pointer, purposely driving up the score as high as they could. The other team, from a school that had only 20 girls in its high school and eight girls on its team, didn't have a chance. It was a resounding rout.

I don't know about you, but where I come from, they call that poor sportsmanship. I'm sure the motivation was no more malicious than in-the-moment euphoria, and they were immediately ashamed of themselves afterward. Nevertheless, the underdog team played doggedly through, ladies until the end. No evidence of rancor in any of them. Bless those girls. The other team's coach has publicly apologized, a gesure that wasn't necessary for the losing team.

They already knew they were the winners.

I know, because I remember the same kind of feeling. Flashback to a banquet hall in Charleston SC, in the spring of 1976:

Our pathetic basketball team hadn't won a single game all season, so the awards ceremony meant little more to our team than a chance to tuck in and enjoy the buffet. Everyone knew who the winning teams would be and accepted it without a thought. Our team had had fun playing the games throughout the season, and everyone had tried his hardest, but we knew we just didn't have enough talent. So our boys ate second and third helpings from the dessert table and watched as the star teams paraded up to take their trophies. It really didn't bother any of us, but we did feel a little sorry for our parish priest, Fr. Patat, the world's biggest sports fan. How could it not have pained him that there was only one boy on our team that could actually make a basket and everyone else was too apologetic to defend him? Still, he seemed to be enjoying himself, laughing with the parents and drinking coffee. Which he choked on when he heard the name of our school called from the podium.

He walked up, a little bewildered, turning to look down on his kids with a little shrug. We all shrugged back, as puzzled as he was. Then, to our shock, the official at the podium handed Father an award and told him that it was the first time in that league that they had ever had a unanimous decision on the Best Sportsmanship Award. We all sat watching, limp with shock, as Father accepted the trophy. We could barely hear him as he said simply "Thank-you," and then we all choked up ~ because we could see that Father had tears streaming down his cheeks and couldn't say any more than that. We knew he was prouder than if we'd won first place in the league.

And in that instant, we understood, and were proud of ourselves, too.

* God bless the soul of Fr. Patat. May his and all the souls of the Faithful Departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

Moving Beyond the Jetsons...

This is so amazing it almost scares me!

Microsoft Tabletop Technology - The most popular videos are here

H/T and Thanks Again, Sparky!

Marching In Spirit Today

Please join us in continued prayers in this war of good vs evil.

And DO everything you can to help prevent the passing of the "Freedom of Choice Act." Write your Congressperson, your Senator... Yes, even write the President. You will have done your part, even if he doesn't do his!

And pray, pray, pray!

(You can click on the title of this post for an article about today's march and for more information on FOCA, go here.)

The Apostles' Creed ~ in a Word Cloud

Found a clever gadget to make the above 'word cloud' ~ via my husband's ever-watchful eye. The things you learn when you read economics blogs! Who'd have guessed?

To see some visualizations of Obama's inaugural speech, contrasted to George Bush's and Abraham Lincoln's speeches, run over to Wikinomics. To make text visualizations of your own, you can sign on at IBM's Many Eyes site. Imagine the possibilities!

Can you guess what the above text is from?
(This is an easy one...)

How about this one?
Bozo Button to the first who can tell me!

Five Questions

Squelly at The Dreamer's Day is passing along this interview meme, and graciously sent along these five interview questions for me. Here are the rules:
1. Leave me a comment saying, "Interview me".
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5.When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Here are Squelly's questions and my answers:

1. If you could be a fly on the wall at any time and in any room where would it be?
Only one choice? Well, the high-minded answer is that I'd like to have been perched on the rafters of the garret room where Our Lord celebrated the first Mass. The less high-minded answer is that I'd love to be a fly on the wall when my oldest son finally pops the question to his dearly beloved.

2.If you could ask FIVE QUESTIONS to any saint who would you choose and what questions would you ask?
At this point in my life, I'd like to have a conference with St. John Bosco. I'd talk to him about teenage boys. I'd like to have his point of view on cell phones, computers, teenage "crushes," and whether or not a young man should feel "called" to go to college or if he should go just because it appears to be the wise course.

3.What makes you proud to be Catholic?
The times my 'heart swells': When my boys are serving at the altar; when I can hear my children's voices singing in the choir; anytime I hear the Magnificat; the bells ringing in Easter on Holy Saturday; at all my children's Baptisms, First Holy Communions, and Confirmations; watching my toddlers' first attempts at genuflecting before entering the pew; when I see my grown sons unapologetically cross themselves and pray the blessing in restaurants; any time I consider the safety of my soul. I feel blessed to be a Catholic every day of my life.

Sons, Kevin, Jon, Dominic and friend, Tim singing The Magnificat.

4. How would you spend an ideal evening?
There is a biergarten in Ouray, Colorado called The Billy Goat's Gruff where I would love to have dinner and watch the sun set with my husband, after a long day of hiking or four-wheeling in the San Juan mountains. But, just an evening home with all the kids, eating popcorn and watching movies is lovely, too.

5. What do you like best about blogging?
I love the creative outlet. But, I've also been blessed by the friends I've met here ~ from all stations of life, with so many gifts of inspiration, from all over the world!

*Anyone who might like some interview questions, leave me a comment telling me so!

Prayer for Our Nation

God our Father, Giver of life,we entrust the United States of America to Your loving care.
You are the rock on which this nation was founded.You alone are the true source of our cherished rights to life,liberty and the pursuit of happiness.
Reclaim this land for Your glory and dwell among Your people.
Send Your Spirit to touch the hearts of our nation's leaders.Open their minds to the great worth of human life,and the responsibilities that accompany human freedom.Remind Your people that true happiness is rooted in seeking and doing Your will.
Through the intercession of Mary Immaculate, Patroness of our land,grant us the courage to reject the "culture of death."Lead us into a new millennium of life.We ask this through Christ Our Lord.
Amen.

H/T: The Cukierski Family Apostolate

* For the fitting tribute to President Bush that you will not see in our media, go visit Marie at View From the Pews!

To be aired on the Black Entertainment Network Tomorrow

Here's the message from CatholicVote.com:

"According to the Financial Times, a ‘Super Bowl’ type audience is expected to tune in to coverage of the Inauguration of Barack Obama tomorrow.

"To mark this occasion, we are proud to announce the release of a new commercial that will be airing all day tomorrow in select markets on Black Entertainment Television. Our newest ad is just the beginning of a year-long campaign that will include a series of commercials for use on the web and on broadcast TV.
Check out our new ad here – http://paracom.paramountcommunication.com/ct/2763146:3438247335:m:1:142185357:10AA155B47CCE865C82E39575526C1E7

"I don’t want to spoil the surprise, so be sure to check out our new ad, and then tell your friends about it. After watching the short commercial, I hope you will appreciate our purpose. The message of CatholicVote.org is universal and transcends candidates and political parties. Even in difficult times, the truth about the dignity of every human life must be proclaimed.

"We at CatholicVote.org had hoped that the first African-American president would be pro-life. Sadly, that’s not the case. While we urge you to pray earnestly for his conversion on abortion, we’re not going to waste this historic opportunity to witness to life.

"Our newest ad seeks to both educate and inspire – the same elements that helped make our election season film the most-watched political ad on the Internet during the 2008 presidential campaign.

"Finally, I suspect there will be a lot of talk about hope in the next couple of days. The purpose of our multiple-commercial campaign is to creatively reach new people who don’t always agree with us about the amazing gift of every human life. Simply put, abortion is the enemy of hope."

Cool, huh? What do you think?

H/T: Diane W.

Does this surprise anyone?

You Are 81% Non Conformist

You're incredibly strange. And a weirdness like yours takes skill to cultivate! No one really understands you. And you're cool with that. You just hope you never have to understand them!

Are You a Nonconformist?

Anyone else out there score over 70%?

We should form a club!

(snickersnicker)

H/T: Kaila

The Hidden Life and the Public Life

A Mom's Look at the Liturgical Year

So, last week we had the luxury of spending a whole week thinking about Jesus' Hidden Life. On the feast of the Holy Family last Sunday, we caught a glimpse of Christ as a twelve-year-old teaching in the temple, and then we caught up with Him in today's Gospel at the wedding at Cana. That's a long time to lose sight of Our Lord! Eighteen years (in one week)! Besides the incident where Jesus is found by his holy parents in the temple, we're told almost nothing about His childhood or early manhood. But, in the perfection of God's planning, we're told exactly what we need to know. Jesus "went down with (His Parents) and coming to Nazareth, He was subject to them.... And Jesus advanced in wisdom and age and grace with God and men."

In a very few words we're told a universe of details. There really is a lot to think about there, a lot to try to imagine.

And, for us, the timing of the contemplation of these things was divine intervention. We are so ready for attitude adjustments around our house right now. We're just getting back into the routine of school again after the fun and "spoiling" of our Christmas vacation. The long, dreary days of winter ("Always winter and never Christmas" now, I'm afraid) are stretching out ahead of us, with Spring and Easter a tiny (bright pink) speck in the distance. Without the sparkle of tinsel to brighten things up any more, our eyes are dull and our feet are dragging. Oh, the drudgery of it all...

But there was hope in the talking points the Church gave us to work with in last week's Gospel. The theme of the week was a wonderful, God-given opportunity to have long talks about how Jesus' childhood is meant to be the model for the children, just as Mary and Joseph are the models for me and Dan. We got to take some time last week working out the real meaning of the charm bracelets hanging at the Hobby Lobby registers. You know the ones, don't you? They're decorated with four letters: WWJD. What Would Jesus Do?

A good question, and not only for the children. What would Jesus do? What does He want us to do?

But, no worries, the Church goes on throughout the rest of the Liturgical Year to answer this question. You can see it as we move forward this Second Week After the Epiphany, into Jesus' Public Life. He taught us what to do, not just by His words, but in every example of His life.

As we read in the Gospel today, He taught us about love, respect, and humility when He obeyed His holy Mother at the Wedding at Cana and changed water into wine. He showed us that we can always trust His Mother's judgment and have faith in her intercession with Him. And, by the mere fact of His presence at this joyous occasion with all of His disciples, He blessed the sacrament of Matrimony with His shining stamp of approval.

There are no accidents in the universe, and it was no accident that Christ's first public miracle occurred at a wedding. And it's no accident that the Church brings this to our minds at this time in the year. This is a good week, isn't it, to renew all our best resolutions concerning our married life? And there is noone more understanding or more influential into whose hands we can place our worries and petitions about our station in life than Our Blessed Mother.

Along with our particular petitions, it might also be good to remember to pray for the institution of Matrimony in the modern world! And I'll be praying this week for someone dear to us who is soon to be engaged, as well. (Hmmmm.... Can you guess who?)

There's a lot to think about this week. But, if, looking ahead, the upcoming week appears to hold little time for contemplation, the Church has given us St. Paul in today's Epistle. St. Paul, a man with a plan. If you're like me, you feel a certain empowerment in having a no-nonsense list to work off of.

So, here it is for us; Let's see how much we can check off St. Paul's list (See below).

Also, here are some fun things we found for our little students to do this week:

* An easy Wedding at Cana Word Search and here's a harder one (our girls LOVE word searches)

* A crossword puzzle about the Wedding at Cana

* And here is a picture to color

The Cliff Notes for a Perfect Life

The In-a-Nutshell Version of All that is Pertinent and Necessary to Live a Good Life, Save Our Souls, and Make the World a Better Place:

Epistle for the Second Sunday After the Epiphany
Romans 12: 6-16

Brethren,
Having different gifts, according to the grace that is given us:
either prophecy, to be used according to the rule of faith;
or ministry, in ministering;
or he that teacheth, in doctrine;
he that exhorteth, in exhorting;
he that giveth, with simplicity;
he that ruleth, with carefulness;
he that showeth mercy, with cheerfulness.

Let love be without dissimulation.
Hating that which is evil,
cleaving to that which is good:
loving one another with the charity of brotherhood:
with honor preventing one another:
in carefulness not slothful;
in spirit fervent:
serving the Lord:
rejoicing in hope:
patient in tribulation:
instant in prayer:
communicating to the necessities of the Saints:
pursuing hospitality.

Bless them that persecute you:
bless, and curse not.
Rejoice with them that rejoice,
weep with them that weep:
being of one mind one towards another:
not minding high things, but consenting to the humble.

St. Paul: Life Coach Extraordinaire!

Well, we spotted her...

In Walmart the other day, where else? The one woman who broke the most fashion decency rules it is possible to break at one time.

Bless the poor woman. She was in her late forties or early fifties and plump, which added insult to injury.

She was wearing:

*tight black leggins (not under a tunic or skirt)

*stiletto heals

*a tight, low-cut, horizontal-stripe black and white top

*large hoop earrings (with another peircing at the top of her ear)

*raccoon eye makeup

Maybe she was trying to feel young, or maybe she's lost track of her age and weight, or her mirror fell off the back of her door... I don't know. But, I must've looked like some kind of bobble head following the equally strong inclinations to stare, cringe, and look away. I know, it's awful, isn't it? I don't mean to be judgemental or unkind, really, but, goodness, a woman her age, especially, should know better. I was embarassed for her. It's bad enough when teeny boppers dress imodestly and inappropriately. It's still not right, but I can at least chalk it up to their being young and, um, unwise. I can assume they don't know better and I can blame our decadent society. Or their mothers. But, honestly. A woman who is old enough to remember Jackie Kennedy... For shame! She should know better.

These kinds of things always pose a dilemma for me. I don't want to teach my children to be unkind. I don't want to behave like a gossip. But I also want it to be very clear what is and is not appropriate attire and behaviour for my children. When we are away from home, we are assaulted on every side by every kind of offense, from other people's poor judgment to their blatant immorality and I don't want any of it to become commonplace for my family. I don't want them to be blind to it. But I also don't want them to grow up to be self righteous snots. So, I try to preface our little cautionary talks with certain caveats about charity, and hope the lessons learned override the fact that, yes, we are talking about people. And these other people are souls, as precious to God as they are.

So we try hard to judge the offense and not the offender. It's a balancing act!

Following, some lesson-inducing sightings:

*Pajamas in public
*Multiple peircings

*Excessive tattoos
*Mohawks or other hairdos calculated to draw negative attention

*The habit of picking up a ringing phone and talking instead of ringing up the order of the customer in front of you

*Skateboarding down public access stairways

*Jaywalking through traffic

*Being a child alone in a public place

What bad examples worry you?

Meditations on the divided tray...

(And misc. memories about school lunches.)

You know how people always complain about airplane and hospital food? I know I'm revealing how weird I am when I admit it, but, really, I love the stuff. "Why on earth?" you may ask. There's a short answer and a long answer.

Short answer: Because it has the exotic distinction of being made in some kitchen other than my own. This is not because I don't get out enough nowadays (I actually just went out to dinner at Ruby Tuesday just last night with my husband, thanks to a dear son who offered to babysit, bless his heart). No, my unusually strong preference for eat-out food goes way back.

Which leads to the long answer (if you have a couple minutes).

See this is the way it was ~ my brothers and sisters and I never got to buy hot lunches at the Holy Trinity School cafeteria. Ever. Back when four of us were in grade school, Mom dutifully packed our lunch the night before, assembly-line style:

1) apple butter, pb&j, or pimiento cheese on Wonder bread, Wonder bread,Wonder bread, Wonder bread

2) one banana or apple, apple, apple, apple

3) a fold-over plastic baggie containing two

cookies, cookies, cookies, cookies,

4) .15 for a little carton of white milk, milk, milk, milk,

Nobody ever asked us for a trade.

We chewed on our white bread sandwiches, ate our two cookies, threw away our apple, and tried not to look too obviously jealous of the hot lunch crowd. But there was no talking our mother into hot lunches. Please don't misunderstand; I'm not complaining or blaming my mother for a tragedy in my life. Her reasoning was perfectly understandable:

.75 X 4 children, 5 days a week added up to way more than my frugal mom wanted to spend.

But, there was some small consolation. We did have that .15 a day to work with. If we went without milk one day, we could add that .15 to our daily budget and upgrade to the .20 carton of chocolate milk. When I was in second grade, I thought I was pretty smart to work that out.

By the time I was in fourth grade, I decided to move beyond chocolate milk and divised a plan to save up my milk money until I had enough for my own hot lunch. Now I knew I was moving into genius realm. Except there was one hitch: my big brother (and nemesis at the time), Stephen.

When I was in fourth grade, he was in fifth, and our two grades shared the 11:45 lunch time. If Steve saw me in the hot lunch line, he'd rat on me and I'd be in big trouble. There was no question in my mind that my mother would not appreciate my going behind her back to sneak a hot lunch. And my brother would have scored one against me. Couldn't have that. No, there was only one way I might make it work; I'd have to wait to get my hot lunch when my brother stayed home for a sick day. (Dang.) Which meant I'd have to go without milk for a whole week, then squirrel my money away somewhere at school to have it ready for when Steve came down sick.

And I did that. I drank only water from the water fountain with my lunch for a whole week., hid my .75 and waited. And waited. And waited.

Steve was a very healthy child.

Spring came. Still no hot lunch for Lisa. Easter came and went. Not much hope of hot lunch; Steve was as robust as ever. But, then, things changed for the better. Lo and behold! After Easter vacation, our school opened up an ice cream counter at the back of the cafeteria. Great cries of happiness were heard throughout the land! We were actually allowed to buy ice cream and eat it out on the playground after lunch! Popsicles, ice cream sandwiches, those little plastic tubs with the wooden paddle spoons! Was this heaven, or what?

So, the .75 that had been folded up in paper and hidden in the bottom of my pencil case since October would have a purpose after all! I still had to slip past my brother's usual seat at the back table to buy the icecream, then eat it without him noticing, but there were worse obstacles I might have had to overcome.

This was doable.

I worked out a plan with my friend, Norma McGinnis (whose mother, incidentally, was divorced and out of guilt, we both thought, gave her money for both a hot lunch and icecream every single day). I would give her my money and Norma would buy my icecream for me ~ a Dreamsicle (be still my heart!) ~ and meet me around the corner of the garden gate at the far end of the playground where the hedge was really bushy. We could sit, unseen, inside the crevice of the gate, and eat our popsicles together. Steve always hung around with the boys by the tether balls, so would be on the opposite side of the blacktop and none the wiser. It just might work.

And so, the day came. When the lunch bell rang, I put my .20 (the cost of the Dreamsicles) in my little blue sweater pocket. Purposefully not looking even in the direction of my brother's table, I ate my lunch as nonchalantly as I could. I choked down my pimiento cheese sandwich, gave my cookies to the girl across from me, and ate my apple ~ out of guilt.

When she had eaten her hot lunch and put away her tray, Norma swung by me and whispered, "Here I go. You want a Dreamsicle, right? I'm getting an ice cream sandwich. I'll see you in a minute. You go out now." So, I got up, keeping my eyes averted from both my brother and Norma, threw away my trash, and stiffly walked past Steve's table, past the icecream counter, and out the cafeteria door. Then I hightailed it across the playground to our secret meeting spot, and skid to a stop in my black maryjanes when I saw that there, leaning against the gate with a fudgesicle in his mouth...

was my brother, Steve.

He didn't say anything, and neither did I. He had the wide-eyed, frantic look of a kid whose hand has just been caught in the cookie jar. Oh, happy day, that I was the reason for that twitch in his eye! He had just opened his mouth to say something (undoubtedly snide), when Norma edged up with the Dreamsicle behind her back. I could see the alarm on her face when she saw Steve, but then she looked down at the Fudgesicle in his hand, and with instant decision, smiled at Steve and handed me my Dreamsicle. I would have liked to prolong my brother's moment of agony a bit longer, if I had had the choice... But, ah well.

Norma and I tore off our popsicle wrappers, and stuffed the wrappers in our pockets as we turned our backs and walked back out into the open space of the playground, where, at every lunch recess for the rest of the school year we ate our popsicles in peace and freedom.

(And I drank water with my lunch)

And, so, Mom, now you know.

The cat's outta the bag, Steve.

And, Norma McGinnis, wherever you are ~ I still love orange Dreamsicles.