St. Rita of Cascia

For a long time this statue of St. Rita stood near my laundry area, an appropriate place, I thought, because she's the Saint of the Impossible. But, she's also a saint whose story it's good to remember if I'm tempted to bemoan my lot in life. You see, though she was highly favored spiritually, Rita's physical world was about as bad as it could get. Next to the problems she encountered in her married life, I have nothing to complain about.

St. Rita was born to pious parents in the village of Roccaporena near Cascia, Italy, in 1381. At an early age, she felt called to the religious life, but in obedience to her parents, married a man named Paolo Mancini; twin boys were shortly born to them. Because of the political nature of her husband's profession, Rita's homelife was filled with stress and worry for her husband, and some sources say that this same stress led Paolo to be a neglectful and abusive husband at first, but Rita, with love, prayers, and patience, turned his heart and saved his soul. Unfortunately, though, when their children were young men, Paolo was murdered by one of political enemies, and the twins, led by the Italian notion of vendetta, sought payback. Their mother, fearing for her sons' souls more than their lives, prayed in earnest that they would be turned from their plan, and her prayers were heard, but not in the way most of us would prefer; both sons died of natural causes before they could take action, ending their lives in the state of grace, forgiving their enemies. A hard solution, but one that their mother accepted gratefully.

But Rita was now alone in the world. She turned to the vocation denied her in her early life, and sought admission to the convent of the Augustinian Nuns of Saint Mary Magdalene, but she was denied. So, of course, she resorted to prayer, asking particularly the assistance of her three special patrons, St. John the Baptist, St. Augustine, and St. Nicholas of Tolentino. The story goes that after prayer, she felt called to request admission again, but, arriving at the convent, found the gates locked. The will of God, however, finds no obstacle in a locked gate, and St. Rita, miraculously appearing inside the gates, applied for admission once more and was welcomed into the Order.

She lived out her life as an Augustinian nun, following her vocation with the Nuns of St. Mary Magdalene for forty years. When she was about sixty years old, she was favored with the stigmata, a thorn in her forehead, a wound which caused her extreme pain, but which she bore with grace and patience for love of Christ and the good of souls.


St. Rita died on May 22nd, 1457. She is an incorruptible, and, as well as being the patron saint of Impossible Cases, she is the patroness of sickness, wounds, marital problems, abuse, and mothers.

** You can go here for a beautiful and inspiring blog dedicated entirely to St. Rita of Cascia!

** There is a Novena to St. Rita here.

***  This is a repost from 2009...

A Joyous Occasion!

Our son, Jonathan Charles, who received the honor to be called Brother Philip under the patronage of St. Philip Neri  at his reception into the Congregation Of Mary Immaculate Queen, takes the next step in his progress toward the priesthood tomorrow along with three of his fellow seminarians.  In ceremonies on Sunday and Monday, they will all renew their consecration, receives the tonsure, and Br. Philip will now (and until his ordination, Deus Vult) be called "Frater Philip."  Please pray with us that the Blessed Mother in her love for her Marian Fathers protects our seminarians and intercedes with her Divine Son for their progress toward holiness. 

What is tonsure?  In short, "it is a sacred rite instituted by the Church by which a baptized and confirmed Christianis received into the clerical order by the shearing of his hair and the investment with the surplice. The person thus tonsured becomes a

partaker of the common privileges and obligations of the clerical state and is prepared for the reception of orders. The tonsure itself is not an ordination properly so called, nor a true order. It is rather a simple ascription of a person to the Divine service in such things as are common to all clerics. Historically the tonsure was not in use in the primitive Church during the age of persecution. Even later, St. Jerome (in Ezech., xliv) disapproves of clerics shaving their heads. Indeed, among the Greeks and Romans such a custom was a badge of slavery. On this very account, the shaving of the head was adopted by the monks."  (The Catholic Encyclopedia) 

Still my little boy, though....  Here he is at about 6 years old...

(In case you were envisioning our young man with a Friar Tuck style tonsure, have no worries...  Fr. Philip won't have a bald top o' the head.  The custom in his congregation is to take just a symbolic clip of hair. )

Daily Prayer for a Seminarian Until his Ordination to the Priesthood O Jesus, Eternal High Priest, I offer You through Your Immaculate Mother Mary, Your own Precious Blood, in all the Masses throughout the world, as petition for graces for all seminarians, Your future priests, especially for...... (Fr. Philip,  Fr. Augustine, Fr. Jerome, Fr. Francis, and all their fellow seminarians at  Mater Dei  -- and St. Augustine -- seminaries) Give them humility, meekness, prudence, and a burning zeal for souls. Fill their hearts with the gifts of the Holy Ghost. Teach them to know and love the church, that they may always and everywhere speak, act, and think with her, the glorious spouse of Christ. Teach them generosity and detachment from wordly goods; but above all, teach them to know You and to love the One and Only Eternal Priest. good Shepherd of Souls, hear this my prayer for saintly priests. Amen.

Back in the Day

My grandparents at Ocean City
 -- probably in the '50s

My Dad's family had a kind of summer "time share" at Ocean City, Maryland.*  I don't know that they actually owned an apartment there (they were never called "condos" back then), or had a partial ownership in one or anything like that. I think it was more like my grandparents had an informal agreement with the owner of a rental that they reserved for about a week when the heat in Baltimore became unbearable. I'm pretty sure it was a regular annual thing.  A lot of people did this back in the day, especially before the 1970s -- before air conditioning (b.a/c). My kids don't remember those days, but I sure do.

All we did all summer, b.a/c, was try to not be hot.  Actually being cool was a hopeless dream, but there were some things you could do to be less hot. You could find some shade and hope for a breeze, or lacking that, you could fan yourself with a magazine, or

sit in front of the electric fan in the house...  but that just moved the hot air around, making you wind blown, but still hot. The only a/c in those days was "adjusted climate."  You waited for summer to be over, in which case God did the adjusting -- or you adjusted your environment yourself, by going to the pool or the swimming hole -- or if you were truly blessed, the beach.

In my grandparents' day, a lot of people made it to the beach for summer stays. It was the custom, especially on the east coast.  Well-to-do folks, imitating the Vanderbilts and Hearsts, stayed all summer in well-appointed beach houses, but even members of the humbler class like my Dad's family, saved up their money, packed up their swimsuits, and headed to the shore, too.  Their digs were not as plush and they didn't get to stay all summer like wealthy folks did, but they got their chance at the ocean breezes.

I have no idea where this was or when (the mid to late '30s is my best guess), but it looks like some kind of seaside beer garden.  Pictured, L-R: My great grandfather, my grandfather, my great grandmother,  my grandmother,  And the children are my Dad (so CUTE -- on Pop's lap) and his cousin. 

My handsome dad at a swimmin' hole,
probably in the late '40s

 Unfortunately, by the time we kids were old enough to enjoy such a thing, the family elders had passed away, the family youngers had scattered, and the annual summer get-aways had become just snapshots in my grandmother's photo albums.  Such a pity this fun tradition faded away before my generation!  But I do have one memory of it.  When I was about kindergarten age, my parents brought the family up the coast from Virginia to what was probably the last family gathering at Ocean City and, perhaps because it was such an extraordinary event for us, I have vivid recollections of it.  Besides our grandparents and one of our uncles, our great grandfather had come down to the beach. We called our great grandfather "Pop," and I can still remember the smell of his cigar mingling with the salty beach air.  He taught us how to do the finger game: "Here's the church; here's the steeple..."  My little sister, Linda, who was about three at the time, couldn't manage the finger movements with her stubby little fingers, and Pop laughed at her attempts and made quite the pet of her.  (I bet she doesn't remember that!)   

My brother and me with our Dad in the mid '60-s

At some point before we left for home (It was just a day trip for us), everyone got together for a walk on the beach.  On the street corner before the boardwalk, my grandfather met up with a friend of his with a very, very deep suntan and almost no teeth.  The toothless man had some kind of strange accent and we couldn't understand a word he said, but I remember "Pappy" (what we called our grandfather) laughing with him for a few minutes before we got to continue our stroll -- at the end of which we children expected ice cream cones.  We were very impatient with my grandfather and his toothless friend keeping us from our appointed ice cream! But  I remember that day at the beach -- and  many other summer days of my childhood with bittersweet nostalgia.

Since I'm a late Baby Boomer, I can't lay claim to being one of the Greatest Generation, but I feel privileged to have grown up in the last "Unconnected" Generation.  I was in college when computers interconnected on campus for the first time, but I have the memory of long, slow summers without air conditioning. I  blog on a laptop and my flat screen TV operates wirelessly, but I remember when  technology was rabbit ears on the big box TV, and we didn't have the world at our fingertips -- "Google" was a kind of peanut butter when I was a kid!  We can communicate instantly with friends and family across the world now, but when I was a kid, we were tuned in to the people right at our elbow. We had no cell phones to distract us, no blogs to write, no Facebook threads to catch up on. We were fanning each other with magazines.

And we may have been hot and bored, but we were hot and bored together.

* Here's something fun: to find out what's happening on the beach this very minute at Ocean City, you can go take a look at the webcams at this site.

* And to check in on other beach adventures, grab your beach chair and sunscreen and head over to
  Sepia Saturday, the May 17th edition!

* It was Ocean City, wasn't it?  Any family members who remember the details, I'd love to know more and see if my memories are on target!

I do agree!

One of the best things a father can do for his children -- girls and boys -- is show them this example of affection and respect for their wives.  Daily habits of common courtesy and goodness are worth thousands of words!

Kid Art

Every single  card and drawing from each of our children over the last twenty-seven years has been precious to me -- every single one of the ten thousand and one of them. And I'm not much exaggerating! These guys are prolific artists! And, though I wish I could say I  have them on file somewhere, heaven knows I could never have saved all their artwork!  We'd be wading through it to get out the door if I did! Still -- really and truly -- every little love note is etched in my heart.  The  graceful drawings, beautiful lettering, and carefully penned poetry of my children are one of the best perks of motherhood --  better than any quarterly evaluation or Christmas bonus.  I love them all, none more than others,  they're all so special...

But some get tacked on the wall.  Like this one:

I ask you:  What other occupation in the world pays you with gems like this?
(Heehee!)

Compliments of Senor William.
Who else?

National Dance Like A Chicken Day

No, really!  It is!

Here are a couple tutorials for the day...

Traditional:



Techno:



Muppet:

To My Mom on Mothers' Day

To My Mother

You painted no Madonnas

    On chapel walls in Rome

But with a touch divine

    You brought her to our home.

My beautiful mother, with her (and our!) life ahead of her.

You wrote no lofty poems

    That critics counted art

But with a nobler vision

    You lived them in your heart.

First married.

You carved no shapeless marble

    Into some high soul design

But with a finer sculpture

   You shaped this soul of mine.

Five of the seven.

You built no great cathedrals

    That centuries applaud

But with a grace exquisite

    Your life cathedraled God.

All seven of us.
(And half of us teenagers!  Poor Mom.)

Had I the gift of Raphael

 Or that of Michelangelo

Oh, what a rare Madonna

 My mother’s life would show.

~Anon.

Happy Mother's Day!

Here's a poem I learned in Kindergarten.

 (Can you believe I still remember it?!)

My Mother

God made a wonderful mother,

A mother who never grows old;

He made her smile of the sunshine,

He molded her heart of pure gold.

In her eyes He placed bright, shining stars,

In her cheeks, fair roses -- You see,

God made a wonderful mother,

And he gave that dear mother to me!

Happy Mother's Day, to all the Moms who are dear to us!

Those on earth: my own dear Mommy and my very special Mother-in-law;

our sweet daughter-in-law, Nicole, the mother of our beautiful grandson;

my sister-in-law, Tanya; all our aunts; and dear friends ...

As well as all of those who have passed out of this life and into the next,

 all of our grandmothers; 

and, most especially, our Mother in Heaven!

The Heavenly Mother by Margaret Tarrant

 Prayer of Mothers

Father in heaven,

grant me the grace to appreciate the dignity which you have conferred on me.  Let me realize that not even the Angels have been blessed with such a privilege— to share in your creative miracle and bring new Saints to heaven. Make me a good mother to all my children after the example of Mary, the Mother of your Son. Through the intercession of Jesus and Mary I ask your continued blessings on my family. Let us all be dedicated to your service on earth and attain the eternal happiness of your kingdom in heaven.

National Clean Your Room Day, May 10th

Feast of the Apparition of St. Michael

One of the first Biblical stories we hear in grade school Catechism is how St. Michael, before our world was even created, defeated the forces of evil and cast Lucifer, the rebel angel, down into hell.  But there are only a few recorded visits of St. Michael to the earth. 

Castel San'Angelo

He appeared in Rome in the 6th century to Saint Gregory the Great, sheathing his sword to announce the end of a pestilence and the appeasement of a punishment of God. The great angel appeared to St. Gregory suspended over the mausoleum of Hadrian, and the church that was built in its place has since that time been called the"Castel Sant'Angelo" (Castle of the Holy Angel).

Mont St. Michel in the Sea

 St. Michael is also recorded to have appeared at the beginning of the 8^th century to Saint Ausbert, bishop of Avranches in France.  After St. Michael's first visit, the good bishop failed to construct a church on the rocky island where the archangel had directed.  Legend has it that, in exasperation with St. Ausbert, St. Michael returned, and to drive home his point, thrust his finger into the saint's skull compelling him to get to work.  The oratory was finally completed in St. Ausbert's time, then rebuilt in the 10th century as a beautiful Benedictine Abbey known as Mont-Saint-Michel in the sea, a famous pilgrimage site to this day.  The relic of St. Ausbert's skull, complete with hole caused by St. Michael, can still be seen at Saint-Gervais Basilica in Avranches.

In the 18th century, a Portuguese Carmelite nun, Antoia d' Astonaco, reported an apparition and private revelation of the Archangel Michael who had told her that he'd like to be honored, and God glorified, by the praying of nine special invocations corresponding to the nine choirs of angels.  This was the origin of the  Chaplet of Saint Michael.  This private revelation and prayers were approved by Pope Pius IX in 1851.

But the feast today actually remembers the marvelous apparition that occurred near Monte Gargano in the Kingdom of Naples at the end of the fifth century.  The story, as related in the Catholic Encyclopedia goes like this:

In the year 492 a man named Gargan was pasturing his large herds in the countryside. One day a bull fled to the mountain, where at first it could not be found. When its refuge in a cave was discovered, an arrow was shot into the cave, but the arrow returned to wound the one who had sent it. Faced with so mysterious an occurrence, the persons concerned decided to consult the bishop of the region. He ordered three days of fasting and prayers. After three days, the Archangel Saint Michael appeared to the bishop and declared that the cavern where the bull had taken refuge was under his protection, and that God wanted it to be consecrated under his name and in honor of all the Holy Angels.

Accompanied by his clergy and people, the pontiff went to that cavern, which he found already disposed in the form of a church. The divine mysteries were celebrated there, and there arose in this same place a magnificent temple where the divine Power has wrought great miracles. To thank God’s adorable goodness for the protection of the holy Archangel, the effect of His merciful Providence, this feast day was instituted by the Church in his honor.

The grotto under the basilica at San Michel  -- where St. Michael appeared

St. Michael is the Guardian of the Catholic Church, the patron of Kiev, the patron of police officers, all military personnel, grocers, and paratroopers.  St. Michael has also been foreseen as the special patron of the Church at the time of the antichrist.

Click and print coloring page for the day.

St. Michael, the Archangel, defend us in battle.  Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil.  Rebuke him, Oh God, we humbly beseech Thee, and do thou, Oh prince of the Heavenly Host, through the Divine Power, cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.  Amen.

(Pope Leo VIII  composed the original, longer version of this prayer after recovering from a horrific vision God permitted him to see in which evil spirits released from Hell bent tremendous effort toward the destruction of the Church. In the midst of the horror presented in this vision, the archangel Michael appeared and cast Satan and his legions into the abyss of hell.)


* Repost: 2012

In the Month of Mary

From William to the Blessed Mother...

The children were singing in the kitchen the other day while they cleaned up after lunch -- and much to their annoyance, I made them come in the dining room so I could record them.  They were fairly good sports, none of them being particularly shy, but they are their own worst critics, let me tell you!  As soon as William finished Virgo Maria (which -- sorry! -- I clipped a little at the end there), he had to remark on how he thought it was so terrible.  Really?  I can't say I thought so at all!  No mother could ever think that sweet soprano was anything but sublime.

  The recording (below) of The Lorica cracks me up, watching the children's faces throughout.  It's just so them!  They're going to hate that I included this recording -- but someday, when they're older and can look back and laugh, they'll appreciate that it was saved here.  Sure they will! It's a moment in time that will never come again!   And, anyway, this mother -- and their Heavenly Mother, too, I know -- love it, no matter what.

Knights in Shining Armor

There have been many times in my life when I've needed saving.  I remember once as a teenager locking my keys in my car in a seedy parking lot in downtown Denver.  I was a pretty fearless (read that to mean: stupid and naive) girl, but, as the sun set and the zombies began to walk, bravado turned chicken, and the sound of my Dad's old VW bus chug-chuggering into the parking lot sounded like the bugle call of the Cavalry to me.  I was saved!  Bless my Dad, he didn't even kill me; just gave me a stern lecture and warned me that if I locked my keys in the car again he might not come and get me next time.  But, you know what?  I did. And he did.  Just like we both knew he would.  He was my Daddy and he wouldn't really leave me to fend for myself.

Family is like that. I've been fortunate to have been the beneficiary of Good Samaritans in my lifetime, helpers who were anonymous strangers, but it's been rare.  More often -- way more often -- I've been fished out of the drink by family members.  They're Grumpy Samaritans sometimes and tend to lace their good deeds with warnings and lectures and a little grumbling, but they come through. I'm so grateful to have been able to take that for granted in my life.  I don't know how many times my big brother, Steve, has fixed cars for us, for instance.  We've all heard the muffled cursing just below the sound of clanking tools, but we also know that he'd have been insulted if we hadn't called him.  We've tried to return the favor to Steve, too, when we could, and have helped our grown-up kids countless times -- as our parents have saved our keesters over the years.  It pleases us these days to hear how our grown children have been running to one another's aid.

The works of mercy are many and necessary in a family our size, too!  To wit: big brother Paul has extended the borders of home for his little sis, Michelle, providing her room and board while she makes her way in California; Michelle helps out with her nephew and niece and donates toward the family "kitty" in exchange. Kevvy turned over his DJ jobs to his little bro, Dominic, when he was leaving town and Dominic was arriving jobless, and Dominic, who's making money now, is helping grease Kevvy's skids while he's between jobs in New Zealand.  Theresa and her brothers and sister are forever finding, saving, and sharing sheet music with one another.  Cathy is a very popular sister because she sends baked goods.  But Brother Philip may trump everyone's efforts because he prays and recruits other seminarians to root for our causes, too.  Mind you, this is just a sampling of what's going on right at the moment, and doesn't include the last minute rescues when someone misses a flight or slides off the road in a snowstorm or needs a few dollars to survive until payday -- but it's all part and parcel.  Most families, I think, develop a beautiful "goes-around, comes-around" theme that operates between the generations helping to guarantee the survival of the family name.  Charity really does begin at home.
.

And it's a wonderful thing. It may be part of the ritual for some benefactors to bellyache, but the knights du jour always come to the rescue of their needy family members -- or die trying.  They have to.  Not only do they love the sibling/child/cousin/aunt/uncle/parent they're going out of their way to save, but they gain points in the score chart of "One Upsmanship and Favors Owed" that exists especially among siblings.

And, you know, there's this too: as many times as most of us need saving...   It just feels good to be the one doing the saving every once in a while. Who doesn't like being the knight in shining armor?  As long as we're willing to cheerfully hand the suit over to the next person  who needs to do some rescuing -- because the one needing saving might just be us.

* Stars and hearts out to the Davis kids sticking their necks out (and reaching into their pockets) to help each other these days.  Mom and Dad are noticing -- and we're not the only ones.

Twenty-seven Years Today

After considerable chasing...

I let this guy catch me

We won't say who was doing the most chasing....

So, here you have Lisa and Dan...

                  

May 2, 1987
_________________

And then...

 1988

1989

 1991

 And the family grew exponentially from this point...

1995

1997

1999

2002

2010

2013

Paul and Nicole were married in 2010

Our grandson, Gavin James, was born in 2011;
Our grandaughter, Evelyn Elizabeth, was born this past March, 2014

All because two people fell in love.

God has been very good to us!

Anniversary Prayer

O Lord, omnipotent and eternal God, 

we give you thanks and we bless your holy name. 

You created man and woman in your image and blessed their union, 

so that each would be for the other a help and support. 

Remember us today. 

Protect us and grant that our love may be in the image 

of the devotion and love of Christ for his Church. 

Grant us a long and fruitful life together, in joy and in peace,

so that, through your Son and in the Holy Spirit, 

our hearts may always rise to you in praise and goods works. 

(And, did we say thank You already?)