A Feast of St. Michael Today

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

Mother's Day Every Day

So, remember how I mentioned (I did mention it, didn't I?) that I'd gotten a part time job at an antiques store?  Well, I do love the job.  The hours are great, minimal and timed so that the kids are never here alone for more than an hour or so -- but there's a catch.  I have to work every other weekend: 1 - 9 p.m., Saturday and Sunday --  and in the rotation, I had off Easter weekend, but I have to work Mother's Day weekend.  So, well, darnit... I can't say much.  It is my turn, and I'm not the only mother/grandmother on staff.  In fact, it's mostly mothers and grandmothers that work at the antique store.  But it's all good.  In a happy twist of Serendipity (otherwise known as Divine Providence), I got to spend this past Sunday with six of the children, doing all the things I love to do -- a perfect Mother's Day, just a week early!

After getting to witness Anna's reception of the sacrament of Confirmation -- the true highlight of the day! -- we got to attend a picnic with a whole bunch of other parish families.  Happily, Frater Philip was able to join us and suggested that, since he had permission to "go afield," we should light out of the picnic early and go check out Lewis and Clark Recreation Area in Iowa (just across the river from Omaha).  He'd been telling us about it for years, and the day had finally come when all the stars aligned for us to go!  Except only half of us had a change of clothes and a couple of us hadn't brought anything that even remotely resembled hiking shoes. But, no bother!  Clothes wash, and certainly Mommy can hike up and down the Missouri Valley in flipflops.  Sure she can.  (And she has a limp now to prove it.)

Frater pointing out Omaha landmarks.

You can barely see the Missouri River on the other side of the railroad tracks down below.

And here are the children, starting down the trail.  Why walk when you can run, right?

The Picture Tree of legendary fame. Clockwise from noon: Cathy, Gabe, Frater Philip,
Theresa, William, Anna.

The parents, laughing at how much harder it was for us to get up in the tree than it was for the kids.

Heading down a steep part.  Check out barefoot Anna. (She's really a Hobbit.)

At the bottom of the steep section, there's a big beautiful swing.  (Isn't this a funny picture?  You have to look pretty close

to see the rope Gabe's swinging on.)

William's got Gabe a little worried here.  (But have no fear: no children were injured in the swinging episode of this hike.)

They call this the "Bigfoot Walk." (But it could be the Beetles Walk if this were Abbey Road and not the middle of a forest.)

And, last but not least, the bottom of the hike, The Cave -- where everyone got a cool drink of water from the spring -- and where, incidentally, Gabe found the ring from a 1970s pop can and asked if it was one of those "old timey things."

After this, it was all uphill and I did get a couple of pictures from the climb, but they were pretty out of focus.  (There was a certain concern for the safety of the camera, don't you know...)  I did make it all the way to the top, though, I'm happy to say -- mostly unaided.  (Hey, now. It was steep and I was wearing flipflops!)  As you might imagine, by the time we made it back to the parking lot, everyone (especially me) was pretty tired, hot, sweaty, and hungry.  So we cleaned up as much as we could, and headed to downtown Omaha to a favorite restaurant:

 Spaghetti Works 

Where great pasta is eaten by the bucket, 

Italian ice is enjoyed by the gallon,

and great thoughts are thought

-- by someone else.

Guess whose wise words are the following:

"It is not only possible to say a great deal in praise of play;

 it is really possible to say the highest things in praise of it. 

It might reasonably be maintained that the true object of all human life is play.

Earth is a task garden;

heaven is a playground.

To be at last in such secure innocence that one can juggle with the universe and the stars, to be so good that one can treat everything as a joke — that may be, perhaps, the real end and final holiday of human souls."

-- Right.   G.K. Chesterton

Here's to beginning heaven on earth -- or at least trying to.  And here's to Mother's Day every day. I couldn't be more blessed or feel more loved.

Anna Germaine Rose

In other breaking news:

Anna received the sacrament of Confirmation on Sunday! She was confirmed by our good pastor and shepherd of our flock, Bp. Pivarunas; her sponsor was our good friend, Monica Fries (I've known Monica's Mom since I was Anna's age!); and for her Confirmation saint, she chose St. Rose of Viterbo.

The saints and angels were undoubtedly swarming the church more than usual, too, I just have to say -- as it was also First Holy Communion Sunday!  Everywhere you looked yesterday -- cherubic children dressed in white, sparkling souls, nervous smiles, and beaming parents.  It was a good day!

Prayer for the Help of the Holy Spirit

O God, send forth your Holy Spirit into my heart that I may perceive, into my mind that I may remember, and into my soul that I may meditate.  Inspire me to speak with piety, holiness, tenderness and mercy.  Teach, guide and direct my thoughts and senses from beginning to end.  May your grace ever help and correct me, and may I be strengthened now with wisdom from on high, for the sake of your infinite mercy.  Amen.

Saint Anthony of Padua

The first time I saw him...

...his back was to me.

He was leaning over the sports desk at our college paper, cleaning out the debris of the recently-fired sports editor. My friend, Leslie, and I had found a strategic spot after we heard he'd come in, and were peering at him, one at a time through the crack behind the production room door. It's not like we thought of him as "fresh meat" exactly (regardless of what the photography staff kept saying). It's just that we were interested. He was the new sports editor, and the layout and production staff would be working closely with him on his section. It was our business to see how he measured up. And from what we could tell, he measured up pretty well.

He was wearing blue jeans and a black jacket, in style but conservative. He had broad shoulders and almost military-cut brown hair. He didn't have the look of a fraternity boy, which suited us both just fine: fraternity boys never took the paper seriously. And they were incredible snobs. We decided he didn't look like the party-animal sort (if you could tell by his back), but he wasn't a geek, either. He did look serious, though. At least he seemed determined to not turn toward where we knew he knew we were hiding behind the door. (There was no way he didn't hear us giggling and whispering.) And, even when we made some excuse to come out from hiding and walk through the editors' office, he didn't turn around to greet us ~ or even look at us. He wasn't even curious! (Indeed!)

But we were. We had to get a look at his face or it was just going to kill us! So we meandered up front and loitered around the receptionist's desk, figuring that he had to eventually pass by there to get out of the building. And he did pass by, (in a rush, I think to escape us) just as our editor-in-chief came in. She said something to him, and he turned around at the door and smiled. Oh my! What straight, white teeth he had. And soft brown eyes.

A nice, honest face.

Almost right away, I looked for that face whenever I came to the office. Leslie thought he was nice, but a little dull for her, which was cool by me, because I didn't want the competition. I was interested in this new sports editor, and wanted to know more about him. He was so mysterious. He hardly ever talked to the rest of the staff; he didn't join us around the Coke machine or play along with the pica-ruler swordfights. All he ever did was work! Sheesh. But his presence in the office brought a sense of calm and order. He was distant, but polite, and he got the work done. And he put out the best sports section our paper had seen in a long time. He was always on time with his copy, and he even typeset it himself. He was the perfect co-worker. But frustrating. Gah! How could you get to know a guy who wouldn't talk to you except to explain how he wanted his box-scores arranged?

But, I did get to know him pretty well. We worked together for a year, putting a paper out twice a week, and during that time I learned that he was: A) consistent, B) trustworthy, C) hard-working D) incredibly smart, E) politically conservative (bless him), F) naturally kind, G) quietly self confident, but, H) very busy and pointedly reserved.

Ah, well. I kept trying. I showed up whenever I thought he'd be there, worked hard on his sports section, and tried hard not to put his swimmer photos in upside down... And he remained cordial, verging on friendly, but nothing else.

By the end of our first year working together, the paper hired a new staff member, a young man who worked with me to produce the paper. (This was before computer pagination; we laid the whole newspaper out by hand on light tables in those days ~ the dark ages of newspaper production...) The new guy's name was Eddy, and he was smart, artistic, and full of life ~ so fun and sociable. He and I got to be pretty good friends rubbing elbows at the light tables, and I knew he liked me. With Eddy it was hard to miss. And I liked him; how could I not? I had never lost interest, mind you, in my serious-minded sports editor, but a girl can only wait so long for a little encouragement, ya know? And, in this situation, Eddie was the bird in the hand, while the bird in the bush was too busy typing up hockey stories to notice me. My heart still skipped a beat whenever he came into the room, but it seemed pretty obvious that he wasn't interested in me. Or at least that's what I thought.

One night, we were burning the midnight oil to get a paper out, and I needed to go across campus to get some paperwork or something. I had no car, so had to walk, and it was way late, so I hollared out for a volunteer to please "escort me through yon dragon-ridden forest." ( Or something like that...) But, everyone was too busy to come with me, and it was late, and they were tired, so, alas, I headed out into the darkness alone. =sigh=

But, all was not lost...

I had just gotten to the edge of the campus gardens when I heard a door slam, and then the sound of running feet, and there through the dark came Eddy to my rescue. "I'll come with you, Lisa!" he called. Then, another slam, and more running feet, and who should appear, but my sports editor, Dan! (Can you imagine my shock?) "No, I'm going with her," he said. And both running toward me, they wound up practically under my nose (Dan was faster by a good few strides), almost colliding with each other and with me!

Eddy took my arm, said something to the effect of, "You snooze, you lose, Dan." And I don't know what Dan said, but he grabbed me around the waist, hoisted me over his shoulder, and ran into the garden.

And, Eddy, instead of chasing, watched us go. I watched him as he watched us. He knew Dan had won.

And so he had.

Or, rather, I had.
All these years later, my husband is still a man of surprises.

And I love him with all my heart.

Happy Anniversary, Dan.

I can't believe it's been 28 years; it seems like just yesterday.

I think I am probably the luckiest girl in the world.

* Post revisited from 2009 -- but just so much fun to remember.  

How Time Flies!

It seems just like yesterday. Walking across campus with my girlfriends, I could hear the voice on the loudspeakers waaaaaay over at the baseball fields where the University of Denver baseball team was playing. "Oh, there's Dan," I'd tell the girls, and they wouldn't believe I could tell who it was from so far away. Other people than Dan would announce for the games, you see, and there was no way of knowing ahead of time who the announcer would be -- so my friends were dubious. All they could hear was a voice on a loudspeaker, distant and garbled. But I knew when it was Dan; I'd bet them I was right, and I always was.

There's always been a connection there.  Even though I may have been all the way in the back rooms of our college newspaper offices, I knew when Dan walked in the front door. The hairs on the back of my neck would literally stand up. And my heart would pound. And I would wait for him to make his way back to where I was. (I know; it's disgustingly mooshy, kids, but it's true!)

 But, here's the thing: eleven children and twenty-four years later, it's the same. I know when it's Dan calling my phone and very often pick it up to answer before it even rings. The door will open at the front of the house and I know it's him before I hear the sound of his feet on the floor. But then  I hear his distinctive voice, and there's no question it's him as he intercepts various small children -- teasing them and throwing them around a little --  Then I hear his footsteps in the hallway -- and I wait for him to make his way back to me. Which he always does. Dan has a way of kissing me with both hands on my cheeks that still makes my knees weak and my heart pound...  And I forget that we're not twenty-one years old any more. Who cares about the children and the laundry I'm folding, and the state of the economy and the world in general...

It's just me and Dan, the love of my life...

 Followed by a caravan of children who want some more tickle fighting with Daddy and who want to know if it's snack time. So --alas! The spell may be quickly broken, but the kiss lingers in the air above everyone's heads.  And it's all good.

There's a place of stillness between two people who love each other where there is no interruption, no  past or future -- just a quiet knowlege of eternity. And a certainty of the rightness of it all.  Before Dan and I met an empty place waited in each of us for the other to fill. It was God's plan. And after we leave this earth, it will be to enter the eternity we've always worked toward together. One may leave first, but the other will follow. It's all good. It's God's plan.

 I think it's this Breath of eternity that sent Dan's voice directly to my ear from the ball fields in college. And it's the same Breath that leads him to me wherever I might be hiding. And it's this Breath, blowing through our marriage that makes it possible to get through the stress of the big things, like bearing and supporting a large family, working through the issues of extended family relations, job loss, relocations, health problems... And the little dumb day-to day grievances, too --  like people who make coffee and dump coffee grounds all over the place,  and people who are so grumpy about sweeping up coffee grounds that they forget to appreciate the coffee...

But I digress... The point is that it's been a wild, amazing twenty-four  twenty-eight years and the time has flown, but it's been good --  God is good. And I thank Him.  I am eternally grateful to have found this everlasting love.

Happy Anniversary, Dan. 

 I love you!

* Post revisted from 2011 -- because it's all still true...

Blast from the Past to Kick Off Our Anniversary Weekend

 An oldy but a goody.

Paul made us this video on our 20th wedding anniversary. It always makes me smile.  (And tear up a little.  Time flies by so quickly...)

Altar Server Practice with Frater Philip

The things that we love tell us what we are.

                                                                                                -- St. Thomas Aquinas

Don't Be Fooled

Violets

"They're pretty and all...

 but underneath there?

 It's just crawling with bugs and spiders."

Thanks for that, William.

What Goes On Around Here

Altar Boy Practice

Dominic constructed the practice altar for his little brothers, and Gabriel scrounged around to find all the "props." He even dug up an old cassock to practice in and has grand plans for making a little "tabernacle" to put on the practice altar. (The biggest disappointment of his ten years is that he's not allowed to use the chop saw by himself...)

Gabriel and William are the fifth and sixth altar boys Dan has helped train.  When the big brothers are around, they help, as well.  When Dominic was here, he quizzed them on their Latin and built the practice altar, and being in Omaha now, we get the special bonus of a seminarian big brother (Frater Philip) to help the little boys with the rubrics on the altar at our parish on Wednesdays after Mass.  With all this practice, they'll be up there next to Jesus with the big guys before we know it.

And then there's this:
Practicing outdoors is a very special thing for the boys.  They love it.  So serene outside, with the birds singing in the background and the sun beginning to set behind the trees...  But it's not without distraction.

Check out Penny trying to get in on the act...  and look at William's face. 

"No dogs allowed in church, Penny!"

See my men here?  I just have to share. Each of them is so in character.  William, a man of quick decision and instant action, jumps up to shoo sweet Penny away; Gabriel speaks words of kind rebuke; Dan watches the little boys' handling of the whole situation and tries not to laugh.  Poor woebegone Penny.  Her every motive is pure love and loyalty; she just wanted to be in on the action with her boys.  I bet the angels loved her up as she found herself a place out from under foot...