While walking by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon (who is called Peter) and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea, for they were fishermen. And he said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men." Immediately they left their nets and followed him. Matthew 4:18-20
The Calling of Saint Peter and Saint Andrew, James Tissot c.1889
So, honest to goodness. I had it in my mind to copy out the scriptural quotes where Our Lord first met St. Andrew and his brother, St. Peter, fishing and I wanted a good classical painting to go with it. So, I flexed my button-pressing fingers and did a quick online hunt -- figuring that Biblical artist, James Tissot, if noone else, might be good for one. And so he was. I found this scene of the calling of Andrew and Peter by Tissot, and followed the link to its original blog location, where I found a kindred spirit! -- Who had already done exactly what I'd planned to do. Katy at The Church Year in the Home has already done the basic research, cultural background and project ideas for us! She even linked to two great coloring pages. Yay for her! Yay for us! :0) Run over and have a look.
On a personal note, I'm not expecting that I'll actually be home today on the Feast of St. Andrew, as I'm slated to hang out for a week in Denver helping my brother who just had back surgery (and it's Saturday afternoon now, as I type this out_)... But Dominic is home with the rest of the children, and will be using the lesson plans I put together before I leave. This post -- or rather -- Katy's post -- will be providing the afternoon projects for Friday while I'm gone. I won't have to twist their arms to get them to bake shortbread as it's suggested. And I wouldn't be at all surprised if the little boys got out some golf clubs... Though fishing poles might actually be more appropriate. It being Friday, though, it's the perfect opportunity for them to cook up the Tilapia I have in the freezer... Don't need to catch it, just have to dig in and find it...
Blessings to All and Happy Nameday to all Andrews out there!
It's no accident, I'm sure, that the child we named for St. Catherine Laboure has a particular inclination for capable service and hard work. We feel sure that she's been influenced from above.
Cathy's patron saint, you see, was a hard worker! Originally christened Zoe Laboure, St. Catherine was the daughter of French landowners in the early 19th century, a woman of particular abilities -- and a strong and lively temperament which she perfected to great humility and obedience. Though she was the daughter of middle class parents and a member of a large and loving family, her life was not an easy one. Little Zoe Laboure, the ninth of eleven children, was only eight years old when her mother died, and since her older sister had entered the convent, she had to take on the care of the house and farm for her father at a very tender age -- but she did so with great capability and patience, waiting for the day when she could also enter the religious life. Through all her labors, she kept a spirit of charity and cheerfulness, and tended carefully to her spiritual life, rising before dawn every day to begin her day at Mass. If it had not been for her duties to her family, she would have entered the convent as early as St. Therese of Lisieux would later in the century, but Zoe's father and some of her siblings discouraged her vocation. Still, after numerous obstacles, God's will prevailed and Zoe's choice of an order having been confirmed in a vision of St. Vincent De Paul, himself, she was finally able to enter the Convent of St. Vincent in 1830, when she was twenty-four years old.
After her profession, Sr. Catherine was sent to a hospital in Paris to work alongside the Sisters of Charity, beginning her many years of labor first in the kitchens, then in the laundry, and finally, working in the hospice for aged gentlemen in Reuilly, where she also was in charge of the chickens. She continued this charitable work for forty years, to all appearances leading the humble and useful, but unremarkable life of an ordinary Sister.
Very few people knew during Sr. Catherine's lifetime that she was the Sister of the Miraculous Medal -- the honored soul to whom the Blessed Virgin had entrusted the mission of producing a medal of heavenly design and special indulgence. The many appearances of Our Lady to Sr. Catherine were a closely guarded secret between her and her confessor -- her identity was not even revealed to the bishop who approved the striking of the medals -- but by the time of Sr. Catherine's death in 1875, a billion medals had been minted and circulated -- and they were already being hailed as miraculous.
Her secret wasn't made known until after her death on December 31, 1876, at the age of seventy: Humble Sr. Catherine, the hospice nurse, the keeper of the chickens, was the holy Sister into whose capable hands the Mother of God had trusted her Miraculous Medal. The Sisters of the convent were astounded. The humble nursing Sister whom the Mother of God had visited with intimate charm and comfort in the chapel of St. Vincent in 1830 was found to be an "incorruptible" when her body was exhumed in 1933, and is now preserved whole and beautiful in a glass coffin where it can be seen today at the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal in Paris.
St. Catherine was beatified in 1933 by Pope Pius XI and was canonized by Pope Pius XII in 1947. The Medal of the Immaculate Conception, now known as the Miraculous Medal, has become one of the most commonly worn sacramentals in the Catholic Church.
St. Catherine of Laboure, teach us humility and diligence in our stations in life! Please pray for us!
St. Catherine's incorrupt body as it looks today. It is located at 140 Rue de Bac, Paris,
at the Chapel of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal.
For an excellent post on St. Catherine with a bazillion wonderful links, run over to a JOYfilled Family. For a more thorough, beautifully written online read about St. Catherine, go here. For a coloring page of St. Catherine, run over here. Or click and print below:
In the original French.
And in English.
And, last but not least: Happy nameday to our Catherine And all the Catherines out there! * Reposted from last year. :0)
In honor of the feast of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal (Tuesday) and the feast of St. Catherine Laboure, (Wednesday). *
I've worn a miraculous medal since the early days of my marriage (a long time!) and wouldn't be without it. Wearing the miraculous medal is the most common devotion among Catholics after the holy rosary ~ and no wonder; its simplicity and beauty is so appealing. The miraculous medal is a reminder of and a pledge to the Immaculate Heart of Mary. It's a powerful sacramental, filled with graces for the wearer.
When I'm nervous, or sometimes just bored, I have a habit of fidgeting with my medal. When I become conscious of what I'm doing, I say the words inscribed on the medal: O, Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee! It never fails to help. By remembering my Heavenly Mother, I may still be nervous, but I know, at least that I'm not alone. If I was fidgeting because I was bored, I'm reminded to use my time wisely in prayer.
Virgin Mother of God, Mary Immaculate, I unite myself to you under your title of Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal.
May this medal be for me a sure sign of your motherly affection and a constant reminder of my devotion to you. While wearing it, may I be blessed by your loving protection and preserved in the grace of your Son. Most powerful virgin, Mother of our Savior, keep me close to you every moment of my life so that like you I may live and act according to the teaching and example of Jesus. Keep me as your faithful child that I may follow your example throughout life and enjoy heaven forever with you.
O, Mary, conceived without sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!
Amen.
Tells me the other day, "I'm almost a man, Mommy."
I don't disagree, though my heart contracts a little bit.
"How do you figure that?" I ask.
"I can read."
Check.
(Reads almost anything, especially if there are pictures.)
"I can tie my shoes."
Kinda.
(When he went to prove it, he'd "temporarily forgotten.")
"I can lead the rosary."
He can and does any chance he gets.
"I can ride a bike."
Most definitely. Took one day to learn
and now he flies around the driveway
"like a jet!"
"I mean, I'm not a man yet. But almost."
William, less than a month old.
My William. My last baby.
He may think he's almost a man,
and some day he will be a man...
But, even when I have to look up to see into his twinkling brown eyes, I'll see the face of this baby boy. My final contribution to the universe. My horse of a different color. I sure do love this little guy.
Happy Birthday, William Almost-a-Man Davis!
You're such a superstar!
About 2 years old.
** His birthday is actually tomorrow, Monday the 26th, but we celebrated today while Daddy was in town. And I have to leave tomorrow to head over to Denver for a while to help out my brother who just had back surgery. I pre-posted a couple posts for next week, in the hopes of getting into a better swing of blogging again. We'll see if they actually end up getting on here -- or if I get a chance to get on the computer and blog while I'm in Denver... Who knows? I just might....
Blessings to all this week, the last week of the Liturgical Year, regardless!
O glorious saint, who chose to die instead of denying your King,
We pray you please to help us as His fair praise we sing.
We lift our hearts in joyous song to honor Him this way.
And while we sing, remembering, to sing is to doubly pray.
At once in our hearts and in our tongues we offer double prayer
Sent heavenward on winged notes to praise God dwelling there.
While in our hearts and tongues we try with song to praise God twice,
We ask you, dear saint, to unite us close to Christ! Amen.
Above is the melody, below, the words to the old folk song:
The Shrine of St. Cecilia
Our home is a shambles All I've treasured is gone The town seemed deserted Everyone so forlorn A storm came from up above But somehow it missed The shrine of Saint Cecilia
The bells in the chapel Never ring any more The clock in the steeple Can't tell time as before But up on a hillside Stands a place heaven blessed The shrine of Saint Cecilia
Each day at even tide When I seek haven From my daily care You'll find me by her side It seems so peaceful there
I kneel in my solitude And silently pray That heaven will protect you dears And there'll come a day The storm will be over And that we'll meet again At the shrine of Saint Cecilia
The storm will be over And that we'll meet again At the shrine of Saint Cecilia...
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.
~ Carl Sandburg (1918)
Mountain blue jay spotted at Land's End, on the edge of Grand Mesa, fall 2010
Today is the feast of St. Martin of Tours, one of the most popular saints of the Middle Ages -- and one that's still well known today -- mainly for the famous story of his splitting his cloak with the beggar. I think most Catholics can call up the cloak story from memory at a moment's notice. Remember how the tale goes? After he had split his cloak in two to help a beggar, Christ revealed Himself to Martin in a dream, telling him that what Martin had done for the beggar, had been done for Christ, Himself. Isn't this a great exemplary tale? It's one the children especially remember, but, though it's certainly a good representation of St. Martin's charity, it misses a lot of the story of the real man.
St Martin was born in present-day Hungary in the early fourth century, but his father, a Roman tribune, was re-stationed, so Martin actually grew up in Italy. Against his parents' wishes, Martin, while still barely a child, began to study Christianity, then a "legal" religion under Constantine. When he was only fifteen years old, because he was the son of a veteran officer, he was obliged to join the Roman calvary. Thus he began his adult life as a Roman soldier, eventually winding up in Gaul (present-day France).
Known as a man of integrity, courage, and strength, Martin employed these same virtues for the Church after declaring his allegiance to his religious vocation over his allegiance to Rome early in his career. The story goes that in a campaign in present-day Germany, two years after the "cloak revelation," Martin realized that he could no longer fight for Rome, but had to follow God's directive to labor for souls. When he was jailed for cowardice for refusing to join in a battle, Martin offered to march unarmed at the head of the troops, but the opposing army surrendered, the battle never occured, and Martin was freed from the army. Free to fight for God.
And he was a fighter. St. Martin became a champion for the Faith against the Arian and Priscillian heresies, founded the Benedictine Liguge Abbey, as well as the Abbey of Marmoutier, as well as having been the celebrated Bishop of Tours, France... But, here, for the real goods regarding St. Martin, (from the inimitable resource,Liturgical Year, by Dom Prosper Gueranger, O.S.B), we have the following:
St. Martin’s mission was to complete the destruction of paganism, which had been driven from the towns by the martyrs but remained up to his time master of vast territories removed from the influence of the cities. All of Gaul heard from him. St. Martin of Tours preaches the word of God throughout Gaul.
In all its provinces he overthrew the idols one after another, reduced the statues to powder, burnt or demolished all the temples, destroyed the sacred groves and all the haunts of idolatry. Martin, consumed with zeal for the House of God, was obeying none but the Spirit of God.
Against the fury of the pagan population Martin’s only arms were the miracles he wrought, the visible assistance of the Angels sometimes granted to him, and, above all the prayers and tears he poured out before God, when the hard-heartedness of the people resisted the means by which Martin changed the face of the country.
Where he found scarcely a Christian on his arrival, he left scarcely an infidel at his departure. The temples of the idols were immediately replaced by temples of the true God. For, says Sulpicius Severus, as soon as he had destroyed the houses of superstition, he built churches and monasteries. It is thus that all Europe is covered with sanctuaries bearing the name of St. Martin."
Other Facts Regarding St. Martin * St. Martin of Tours is the patron saint against poverty and alcoholism; he is the patron of: beggars; the cavalry; Church Lads' and Church Girls' Brigade; TV Commercials; France; geese; horses; hotel-keepers; innkeepers; the Pontifical Swiss Guards; quartermasters; reformed alcoholics; riders; soldiers; tailors; wine growers; wine makers.
* During the Middle Ages, St. Martin’s cloak, (cappa Sancti Martini), was preserved at the Marmoutier Abbey, near to Tours, one of the most sacred relics of the French kings, would be carried everywhere the king went, even into battle, as a holy relic upon which oaths were sworn.
* A highly popular site of pilgrimage during the Middle Ages, St. Martin's tomb and the basilicas which enclosed it over the years were raided in turn by the Vikings in 996, the Huegenots in 1562, and the anarchists of the French Revolution in 1802. From amidst the rubble left by the French revolutionists, however, the tomb of St. Martin was finally rediscovered in 1860, and the veneration of the site and popular devotion to St. Martin was renewed.
* From the 4th century through the late Middle Ages, the feast of St. Martin began the forty day period of fasting previous to the feast of Christmas. As with its parallel fasting tide, Lent, the eve of St. Martin, was in former days, a day of feasting and revelry. The period of preparation before Christmas was shortened from the forty days of Martinmas to our modern-day Advent time period of four Sundays by Pope Gregory VII in the eleventh century.
Celebrating the Feast!
* In Flanders and in some parts of the Netherlands, it's traditional for children to process around their villages bearing paper lanters in honor of St. Martin. A man on horseback, dressed as the saint, often leads the procession.
~ Ideas for the simplest and easiest paper lantern can be found here.
~ Patterns for beautiful, intricate Paper Lanterns can be found here and here and here.
~ Cathy's tin can lantern (a safe alternative for a real candle) can be found here.
~ An awesome balloon lantern tutorial (and other great Martinmas ideas) can be found here.
~ A tutorial on a beautiful felt lantern swag can be found here.
* In Portugal, Catholics gather into little parties called "Magustas," where they roast chestnuts around festive campfires.
~ The facts on roasting chestnuts on your own open fire can be found here.
* It's in Portugal, as well, that "St. Martin's Summers" ("Verão de São Martinho") recall a certain legend of St. Martin's cloak. In this addendum to the popular story, it seems that after giving the first half of his cloak to one beggar, St. Martin donated the second half to another beggar. Then, instead of suffering the freezing weather, through a heavenly intervention, the dark clouds cleared away and the sun shone so intensely that the frost melted. The phenomena of a sunny break to cold weather on Saint Martin's Day is now called a "St. Martin Summer."
~ It snowed here today, so no St. Martin's Summer for us!
* But, warm or cold outside, we can celebrate with good things to eat! In Poland the feast is celebrated with sweet crescent rolls called rogal świętomarciński:
~ An easy recipe for St. Martin's Crescents can be found here.
~ And Catholic Cuisine has scads more recipes and ideas for celebrating Martimas gastronomically!
* Common practices of the day include remembering St. Martin's charity by donating to the needy in his honor on this day. Bringing coats or blankets to homeless shelters are particularly appropriate works of mercy! Also, many families take this opportunity to present the children with gifts of new scarves and mittens.
* And, of course we have to have coloring pages:
or
Or best yet... Especially since the above engravings are both a bit fuzzy, run over and grab a beautiful coloring page from Charlotte!
Blurry Mugging.
It's the camera that's fuzzy here, not the children.
Or so they tell me.
Smug muggin' it up with their new Dublin caps.
Cheesey mugging this time in their new Dublin caps.
Muggin it up on the train in their new Dublin caps.
Looking sharp for Mass.
Kinda 1930's vintage hip.
But this is the real backpacking-across Ireland look.
Michelle making friends everywhere she goes...
Tall Elton John?
(Where we going? Going that way.)
Phil Collins dressed like St. Thomas More.
They all want to shake hands with Michelle.
This guy didn't mind posing at all.
But, strangely, Elmo was grumpy, they tell us.
(Though Elmo is a friend of Shelly's from way back.
Her first word was "tickle." Really!)
Mugging at the Museum:
Mugging at the Train Station:
Note from Blogger Mom: They're gonna shoot me for posting these, but, I figure they really oughta be like the big macho guys who aren't afraid to wear pink. They're so cute, they can get away with these rubber face mugs, doncha think? ;0) (Yeah, I know you'll both get me back, somehow. I'll be watching my back...)
But, look. Ain't they pretty?
Here's a serious, sophisticated, grown up pose now...
Staring into the mid-distance...
That's cool.
This one feels more natural, though.
Hamburgers!!! From the double decker "slop shoot" on
O'Connell St., Dublin. A nice cheap treat!
And a Mall. A really cool mall in Dublin. Almost like being
in America. But not really.
So cute. But we have only seven dollars left, Mom.
Mom?
And then, the night before...
Stayed up too late enjoying their last night in Dublin --
and, truly, they tell me -- they really did not drink very much
Guinness at all the whole time they were there...
Followed by the morning after...
Had to get up before the crack of dawn to make Michelle's
7 a.m. flight back to Austria. Airport Zombies.
Both are safely "home" now. Dominic is home anyway, here with us nursing a head cold brought on by all the sleep he got and the Guinness he did not drink in Ireland. Michelle is now currently enjoying a grand time with good friends in Germany before heading back to Austria Wednesday to work for another three weeks before heading home. We can't wait to see her! And the other half of the pictures we haven't seen yet...
Besides Dominic's head cold, they came back with wonderful souvenirs for everyone (wait 'til you see the sweater they got me!), two hats, a Dublin sweater and a tee shirt for themselves, no money left on their student cards -- and roughly fourteen hundred pictures to share. These are just a very few, obviously. Odd bunch of pictures, you think? Or at least maybe a little unusual that there'd be so many silly face shots?There's a reason... You see, before he left, I made Dominic promise to take tons and tons of pictures -- and "make sure I see your faces in them," I said. "I don't want just scenery."
So this is what I got.
Aren't they great? They really tell the story.
I hope you enjoyed them. Because they crack me up!
