Thursday, December 20, 2007

saint of the week

Saint of the Week  December 20, 2007

 

 

Nearly every morning my two dogs and I head into the woods.  They get to let the clutch out and I "plan my work and work my plan" while getting some exercise.  Yesterday morning I brought along my 8 "how many more minutes till Christmas" year old.  I was hoping that she would burn off some energy.  It was a crisp morning.  The ground was frozen and it was lightly snowing.  Given the amount of rain that we have had in the past weeks, the trails were dotted with huge frozen puddles. Because the ice on the puddles was only ½ inch thick or so, I told my daughter not to walk on the ice.

We crunched and chatted our way to the turnaround spot and then began our journey back.  Our younger dog did not care much about the thin ice she just hopped her way through smiling all the while.  I was about 5 feet ahead of my darling daughter when I heard a loud crunch and a cry, "Mommy help!'  I turned to see my cherub knee deep in a puddle.  I lunged toward her as she stepped out on to more ice and again was knee deep.

She was in tears.  I pulled her out, hugged her and emptied her boots.  She asked how she was going to get back.  I told her that she would have to walk.  "But my feet are cold". 

"I know honey, but there is no other way, you have warm clothes on, you'll be ok."

"Are you sure?"  "Yes."  As we walked, I could not help but ask why she did not listen to me.  She does this a lot.  She often has to learn lessons the hard way.

 

This is the third week of Advent.  Christmas is four days away.  We are shopping, cleaning, baking, and hurrying our way through the season.  Why aren't we listening?

When we are tired why don't we listen to our bodies and slow down.  Are we working for the applause of others or for the applause of heaven?  When we are feeling lonely or depressed why don't we listen to our heart?  Our heart longs for what no human or human creation can fill.  Our heart longs for God.  When our mind asks, "Where are you Christmas, why can't I find you?"  Why don't we listen to scripture and hear that Christmas is found not in a mall, but in walking away from our earthly pride and stepping into a stable.

 

Don't spend this season wondering how you ended up in a mess.

Sunday, December 2, 2007

saint of the week

Saint of the Week:
 

 

 

My family and I live in the Northern suburbs of Pittsburgh.  For those you not familiar with the Pittsburgh Area there is a highway that connects areas north to the city.  It is Route 28.  Although it is often under construction, it is the most direct way to get into the city.  Between our home and Downtown there are many on ramps.  The most notoriously dangerous is the one at Fox Chapel.  My husband supposes the reason for this to what he calls the Fox Chapel yield. (Named after location, not residents).Travelers on this ramp do not yield.  Actually it is quite the opposite.  Travelers at this on ramp actually speed up. It looks as if they are entering the Indianapolis 500 after a Pit Stop.

 

I am noticing now that this phenomena known as the "Fox Chapel" yield, also happens on airline passengers. It begins with boarding. Generally planes are loaded by zones.  As soon as the first zone is called for boarding, everyone, regardless of zone, rushes the gate, only to have to stand there until their zone is called.  Why?  The plane will not leave without them.  (Although it probably should). Then, when the plane lands and pulls up to the gate and half of the plane leaps to their feet.  I can't tell you how many times I have been seated mid plane or further back only to stare at someone's buttocks for 15 minutes while we wait for the 26 rows ahead of us to de plane.

Of course everyone then runs down to baggage claim and volleys for optimal bag claiming position, only to have to stand there and wait for their bags. Last week I actually saw an airport employee pushing 2 wheelchairs attempting to get on the tram.  There was a woman in his way.  He asked her if she could please step back.  She gave him a blank stare.  He asked again if she could please step back.  She moved about an inch.  Then he just did the bulldozer thing and got on the tram.  There was plenty of room for everyone (She had the last laugh by beating him down to baggage claim).

 

Today is the first Sunday of advent and the beginning of the liturgical year.  For many of us we gasp as we imagine the tidal wave of Christmas barreling toward us on the shore.  If ever there was a good time to yield, this would be it.  Webster's tells us that to yield means to surrender, give way or to give up something to somebody.  On the roads it means to slow down or stop in order to let another vehicle pass.

As we move through Advent, how about if we don't do the Fox Chapel yield this year and speed up.  How about if we don't push our way down to baggage claim at the expense of our fellow passengers?  What if we actually follow Webster's definition. Give our hearts up to God. Advent is not about lights, presents, cookies, cleaning, programs, cards, luggage or trees.  Advent is about the heart, period.  So, yield.

Friday, November 16, 2007

saint of the week

Saint of the Week:  Veteran's Day 2007

 

There is a note on my kitchen table that was written by my daughter to someone close to our family.  It reads:  I am sorry for all the sad things that are happening. 

But life isn't perfect.  Let's just leave it at that. 

I'm sorry. 

There is a bag of peanut M &M's included in the envelope.

 

Last week our parish family lost a few awesome men. Their lives enriched and touched so many others.  Their absence will certainly leave a hole.  Over the weekend I attended the National Catholic Youth Conference.  The night before the conference a teen attendee who was walking with her youth group (on the sidewalk) was struck and killed by a truck. My heart can not fathom the pain that the parents, her peers and her youth minister must be enduring.  Now, tonight, the news of a couple close to our family has ended a 20-plus year marriage.

 

I think too of all of those who have lost a loved one in the war against terrorism.  I choke down the tears.

 

Sadness is part of our human condition.  My eight year assures that the cure for sadness is peanut M & M's.  Although I hesitate to argue, for I too, love peanut M & M's, I know that there is more.

 

I see life's joys as a bunch of brightly colored helium balloons and life's sorrows as gum on our shoes.  As hard as we try to reach and keep our eyes on the balloons, the gum keeps us stuck fast and hinders our progress.

 

St. Francis Xavier Cabrini was no stranger to sorrow.  In 1850, when she was born, she was so small and frail that her father rushed her to the church so that she could be baptized immediately. She was initially rejected by the convent.  She endured the small pox epidemic losing both of her parents.  She eventually did become a sister and founded the order of the Sacred Heart.

One source I read said that as the order expanded, the sisters needed more space, but did not have the funds, so they did the addition themselves, laying brick and building a roof.  (And I thought that it was cool to see the sisters at NCYC playing lazar tag!).  Just when things were going well, she was asked by the bishop to move to America to minister to the Italian Immigrants.

She obeyed; working in New York and New Orleans with the poorest of the poor.  In 1909, she became a US citizen.

Because she never let the gum on her shoe slow her down, she became the first American Saint.

 

I doubt that Mother Cabrini ever tasted a peanut M & M, so I know that I am right.  There is more.  Jesus is more.

Our Redeemer loves us when we have a handful of helium balloons, but only because he walks with us carrying adhesive remover and a spatula.

 

So I close with the lyrics of a song by Third Day.

 

I can't stop the rain from falling down on you again.

I can't stop the rain, but I can hold you 'til it goes away.

Friday, October 26, 2007

saint of the week 10/25

 
 


Jamie,
Bless you for your saint stories! I appreciate them so much.
Joyce

saint of the week

October 25 Saint of the Week.

 

Since I am a bit late on my Saint for this week, I promised myself that I would do it tonight.  Truth is, I am not much in the mood.  I just returned from a frustrating encounter at Best Buy.  Without further rambling suffice to say that I received a defective item and no one seems to be concerned with doing the right thing.  (FYI I will never do business there again and I caution you).

 

Ironically though, this entire scenario has been played before me at least a dozen times in my youth.  My mother was a single parent, long before it became the norm.  She was a single mom when divorce was spoken in hushed terms and Dad's got out of paying child support and fingers were easily pointed.  She was a single mom in a Brady Bunch era.

So, here is this woman raising three girls and it seems that nearly every time she purchased something . . . it was defective and needed to be returned or replaced or there would be parts missing or what have you.  She was single woman standing toe to toe with many a store manger.

 

In the early years, my mom had a sidekick.  That was my grandmother.  Yes, my mother looked after my grandmother, but my grandmother looked after us and held my mother in constant prayer.  My grandmother's parting words to us were always, "Button your coat and help your mother".

 

I remember one time when grandmother was staying with us, my mother lost her wallet.  It was all that she had.  She was frantic.  My grandmother being the awesome sidekick, pulled St. Anthony from her utility belt and prayed.  Not the "St. Anthony, St. Anthony please look around, so that was is lost can be found," Prayer that he hears on an almost daily basis from me, but rather prayers bursting with passion and faith.  That night, my grandmother had a dream.  In her dream she saw St Anthony holding the wallet.  He told my grandmother where he had found it.  When she awoke, she told my mother where to look and, well, there it was. 

 

Another time, my nephew was very, very ill.  He spent months in Children's hospital and the doctors were stumped.  My grandmother prayed with all of her heart to St. Jude. We all followed her lead. Today my nephew is 20 years old.  He still wears a St. Jude medal.

 

I know it sounds like the Saint of the week should be my grandmother or my mother or St. Anthony, but actually, it is St. Jude.  St. Jude NOT JUDAS was one of the 12 apostles.  He was a distant cousin of Jesus.  One of his letters appears in the New Testament.  In that letter he urges us to persevere in the midst of all the frustration and turmoil that the world can bring.  To be a Christian in times when it may seem almost impossible, (like being in Best Buy with a defective product or being a single parent).  Because of that, he is known as the Saint of Desperate situations.  I have attached a prayer for you.

Most Holy Apostle, St. Jude Thaddeus, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the name of the traitor who delivered your beloved Master into the hands of his enemies has caused you to be forgotten by many. But the Church honors you, and I invoke you as the special advocate of those who are in trouble and almost without hope. Help me to realize that through our faith we triumph over lifes difficulties by the power of Jesus who gave his life for us. Come to my assistance that I may receive the consolation and succor of heaven in all my needs, trials, and sufferings, particularly (here make your request) and that I may praise God with you and all the saints forever.

Tuesday, October 9, 2007

FW: Re: saint of the week

 
 
-------------- Forwarded Message: --------------
From: aomt@comcast.net (Anne Thomasmeyer)
To: jamiedillon@comcast.net
Subject: Re: saint of the week
Date: Tue, 9 Oct 2007 16:31:15 +0000
No, no, no . . . never just a youth minister. When you say that it reminds me a of a time that we were having some work done on our house and one of the carpenters needed to come in and use the bathroom, saying something about he was "just a carpenter" possibly dragging dust into my house. I assured him that wasn't at all a problem, but it's always been a regret of mine that I didn't add that "after all, my boss is a Jewish carpenter." Where would we be without carpenters? Or youth ministers?
 
And please, please, can we pretend that St.Theresa (my very own Confirmation namesake) at least occasionally wanted to eat truffles during Confirmation? The visual image is irresistible. (And I hope you got some punch when you were done.)
 
A.
 

 

saint of the week

Hi everyone: 
Here is this week's saint.  If you want to read other "saint of the week" messages just go to www.stscholasticayouth.org and click on saint of the week!
 
 
 

Saint of the Week: October 9

 

Last night I attended confirmation at St. Scholastica.   We had over 85 candidates and  their loved ones.  Needless to say, the church was packed.  Being that is has been unseasonably hot, the church was like an oven.  I thought of it as being a real way to experience the FIRE of the Spirit!  Most people though, were fanning themselves.  I guess that sometimes the fire can be a bit overwhelming.  After the sacrament I decided to help straighten up the church.  As I stacked chairs (dozens of extras were pulled out because the pews were filled) , I found several candy wrappers on the floor.  I tried to figure out a way that candy could tie into confirmation.  I don't think that truffles are a gift of the Spirit even though it is something that I for one, could certainly benefit from occassionally.  Being unable to tie candy to confirmation, I realized that someone was just having a snack and then rudely left their wrappers in the church.  That's when my temper began its own fire.  The Holy Spirit however, must have been lingering, because as I walked to the garbage can I thought of St. Therese of Lisieux, the Little Flower.

 

St. Therese's feast day was October 1.  She was a Carmelite nun who died about a century ago at the age of 24.  St. Therese is not a saint because she healed someone or walked through fire unscathed.  She is a saint because she did the little, demeaning jobs unscathed.  She completed her work with great love.  She kept her mind and her heart focused on Jesus.  She did not complain about the heat.  She did not eat truffles during confirmation.  Sh e did not complain about picking up truffle wrappers after confirmation while everyone else was having cookies and ice cold punch.

 

I usually try to keep my unkind thoughts in my thought bubble, like a cartoon character.  But really, if my mind and heart were focused on Jesus, there would not be any room in my bubble for anything else.

 

I guess that's why St. Therese is a saint, and I am just a youth minister.

Friday, September 28, 2007

saint of the week

September 27th Saint of the Week.

 

Hanging on my bathroom mirror is a piece of construction paper with the following etched in crayon:  If Ur stressed, just take a rest and today will be your best. 

This was a gift from my daughter on a particularly trying day.  It made me smile and realize that she knew exactly what I needed.

 

I have heard it said that 'we are each other's angels'.   Not the pudgy, little, Victorian cherubs that we see on calendars and stationary but rather, angels in terms of deeds.

The great thing about angels is that they do not stand around and wait for gratitude or applause.  They give what is needed out of love and that is their satisfaction.

 

September 27 is the feast of the archangels:  Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel.

Michael, as you know is the protector.  He cast Satan out of heaven. (So that shoots the idea that angels are pudgy and cute.  I picture Michael with bulging biceps and a spear).  During his Papacy, St. Leo had a vision of the daily struggle of good and evil that occurs in this world. He collapsed.  Eventually though, he wrote this prayer:

 

St. Michael, the Archangel, defend us in the day of battle. Be our safeguard
against the wickedness and snares of the devil, may God rebuke him, we
most humbly pray. And do thou, O prince of heavenly host, by the power of
God, thrust into hell Satan and all other evil spirits that prowl through the
world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen

 

In Christianity, Judaism and Islam, Raphael is known for healing.  It is believed that he stirred the waters in Bethseda (as mentioned in the New Testament).

 

Gabriel is God's messenger.  Most famous for his words to Mary, He appears repeatedly throughout the Old and New Testament.  Muslims believe that he gave the Qur'an to Muhammad.

 

So whether you are a pudgy little angel or one with bulging biceps know that Michael, Raphael and Gabriel are counting on you to help heal, witness to, and protect others in the name of God, even if you have to use crayons.

Tuesday, September 25, 2007

jamie invites you to MySpace

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jamie says:

I’m finally getting a "my space" should wonders ever cease?

Join MySpace and you will instantly be connected to jamie, and to each of jamie's friends.

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Thursday, September 20, 2007

saint of the week

Saint of the Week Sept. 21

 

Yesterday was my son's 11th birthday.  He wanted ice cream cake.  Naturally we obliged.

Of course, he wanted the biggest piece.  Of course, so did I, but I gave it to him.  I was happy just to have a piece.

 

September 21 is the International Day of Peace.  I wonder how many people know that.

I wonder how many people are waiting for their lives to settle down so that they can have some peace.  How many times have I said, "Just give me a moment's peace!"

 

Yes, we all need peace.  Those living in the Middle East,  Dan fur, and Ireland know this all too well.  Maybe the idea of peace is so illusive that we give up on trying.  Peace really is not so elusive.  Before we can have any chance at obtaining world peace, we must be able to conjure and maintain peace in our homes.  Sometimes, I get glimpses of peace.  When my children are asleep and I gently kiss them goodnight, hiking in the woods, early morning prayer time, watchin g fireworks, playing in the snow, walking on the beach, and being alone in church.  Christ calls us to be peacemakers.  I would like to think that means that Jesus would like me to spend my life walking on the beach or hiking in the woods since that is where I find the biggest peace.  No, Jesus calls us to be peacemakers in the world.  We are to live in the world, but not be of the world.  We rely totally on God.  I saw a sign in front of a church that said, "Sorrowful people look back, worried people look around, faith filled people look up".  That is peace.

When everything around you is caught in the current, you have the presence of mind to say, "God, I place my trust in you." 

That is the biggest peace.

Tuesday, September 11, 2007

saint of the week

 

Saint of Week September 9, 2007

 

 

Sunday morning at INTERSECTION (Teen Bible Study), it was very hot.  Even though I had the fan on and the windows open, the second story of an aging brick building was not the place to be.  The room was quite full, which I am sure, added to our perspiration problem. 

It seemed however that everyone tolerated the warmness fairly well.  There was minimal complaint and generally earnest interest in the message, which was about discipleship.  Today's reading from Luke urged us to be fully committed disciples. 

 

St. Peter Claver was a fully committed disciple (I image you would have guessed that given the prefix of "saint" before his name!).  Born in 1580, he became a Jesuit priest and ministered to slaves.  For 33 years he ministered to the Negro slaves disembarking in Columbia.  Whenever a slave ship would come into port, he would enter the hold and begin ministering to the slaves.  He would provide drink, food and the gospel.  His ministry did not end there though, as he would then minister to them aft erwards in their places of residence.

 

I don't pretend to know much about slave ships but I image the ship's hold to be an infernally hot- putrid smelling-standing room only type of place.  I don't know if I am impressed more by his insight and creativity or his stamina.  Catholic Online says that St. Peter Claver converted some 330,000 slaves to Catholicism.

 

I guess that is what Jesus wants from us, stamina.  He wants us to have staying power.  He wants us to rise above the perspiration and distractions of this world to become fully committed disciples and love Him above all things, even air conditioning.

 

prayer for 9/11

Peace Prayer to the Blessed Mother

The greatest gift of The Blessed Mother is Her Love.
It is incumbent upon us, Her children,
to act towards each other
as valued members of the same family.

Holy Mother hear our desires, teach us your wisdom.
Let there be peace of understanding;
Peace of a calming of angers; peace of wisdom,
Peace of a willingness not to seek vengeance.

Let there be peace because we owe it to the children,
Peace because we owe it to the seventh generation.
Peace because we owe it to the parents,
Peace because we owe it to our ancestors.

Let there be peace so that there may be art,
Peace so there may be farming.

Peace so there may be dancing,
Peace so that utterly different peoples may compare their ways with interest.
Let there be peace among humans
So that there may grow to be peace between humans and trees,
Peace between humans and all living creatures,
Peace between humans and the land.

Let there be peace so that our ingenuity may undo our damage,
Peace so that we may solve riddles.
Peace so that we may reach the stars,
Peace so we may reach our own souls.

Let there be lasting peace;
Peace among men and women.
Peace among adults and children.
Let us move aside from the dictates of domination.
Let there be true peace.

 

We ask in the name of your Son, Jesus, Prince of Peace.

Amen

 

 

Monday, July 9, 2007

saint of the week

I realize that it has been several weeks since I last provided a "saint of the week".  I would like to tell you that I have been lounging in the sun and eating bon bons. But actually for 3 of the last four weeks, I have been working arm in arm with some young saints to be;  commonly referred to as teenagers.  You might even have laughed at the prospect of calling a teen a "saint to be".  But if you saw, what I have seen, you would feel the same way as I do.
Let's start with vacation bible school:  there I saw teens, singing and playing with small children, wiping tears and treating boo-boo's, acting silly for the sake of the gospel and generally being great role models.
In appalachia I saw teens, praying and earnestly worshiping God, nailing, painting, scraping, washing, sweating, laughing, playing, crying, clapping and genuinely living the gospel.
And today at Camp Helping Hand I saw younger teens lifting, carrying, digging, cutting, loading, unloading, sweating and yet smiling all in the name of Jesus.
 
Seeing what I have seen, I would say that our church is in good hands.  Despite the many frustrations that go with this job, they pale in comparison to seeing our teens put their faith into action.
 
Our lesson today is what the saints who have gone before us already knew and something that the rest of us struggle to perfect:  Put God into everything you do. Even if it's just for the summer.
 

Thursday, June 14, 2007

saint of the week

Saint of the Week                     June 13, 2007

 

Many people think that I am absent minded.  Maybe I am. Maybe I am just sporadically overwhelmed like most working mothers, you be the judge.

 

Long ago I abandoned the idea of carrying a purse.  I had misplaced, ok lost, many purses so I decided to be more Franciscan, and travel lightly.  Now I carry a small wallet with only the essentials (rarely if ever does that include money).   Although I can tell you where every toy, book and sock of my children's is located, I regularly lose my own things.  It seems as though I pray the St. Anthony Prayer on a daily basis.  You know the one, "St. Anthony, St. Anthony please look around, so that what is lost can be found."  < /SPAN>Sometimes I skip all that and just say, "St. Anthony, It's me again.  I am sorry to bother you again, but. . ."

 

Once when I was hiking with my dogs on a new trail, I became hopelessly lost.  I thought to myself as I trudged along soaked with sweat and caked with dirt, what a metaphor this is.  Maybe God is telling me that I am lost in the world and not seeing the forest for the trees.  Maybe the Almighty is telling me that I need to get back on track.  Or maybe I'm just dehydrated. In any case, I needed to get home because it was almost time for my kids to get home from school. Again I prayed for the return of the lost, not only to St. Anthony, but also to his boss.

In a few moments I saw this small deer trail.  I followed it because my little dehydrated voice said to, and it led me and my canine companions (who were no help in this escapade what so ever) right back to my van.

                                          

St. Anthony lived in the early 13th century.  His story is familiar.  He was born of a wealthy family.  He had dreams of nobility.  He met some traveling Franciscan Friars on their way to evangelize in Morocco.  He was so impressed that he had a conversion experience and began to study the teachings of St. Francis.  He too became a Friar.

For a long time he kept a low profile, but then he was asked to fill in for a missing preacher on Sunday.  He obliged and stunned everyone.  His reputation spread quickly.

The church would be so packed that there was actually a line.

Once while he was in prayer, the Infant Jesus appeared to him and told him how much he was loved.  That is why St. Anthony is often depicted holding the baby Jesus. He is the patron of lost things because legend has it that once some young man stole his prayer book.  St. Anthony prayed that the book would be returned, and it promptly was.

 

I hope St. Anthony understands me better than most people do.  More importantly, I hope that he has a sense of humor and a compass.

                                          

 

Friday, June 1, 2007

saint of the week

Are We There Yet?

 

A couple of years ago my family and I drove to Missouri to visit my sister.  In the wee hours my husband and I gently carried our sleeping children to the van, loaded in the two dogs and silently began our journey.  We were hoping to get  through a good  chunk of the journey before our darlings awoke.  Just as we passed through the Fort Pitt tunnels, our daughter stirred.  Her eyes were as big as saucers.  She asked, "Are we there yet?"  Yes, we had been on the road for a mere twenty minutes.  Turns out that particular journey took nearly 18 hours.  I believe the number of "Are we there yet-s" numbered somewhere in the mid twenties.

 

So you can see that it took a strange kind of nuttiness to tackle such a trip again.

True our children are now two years older, but we have our new addition, a 7 month old Golden Retriever puppy. So again we loaded the sleeping children and 2 dogs into the van in the wee hours and silently made our way through the city.  Just as we passed through the tunnels, my daughter and I chorused to my husband the first shift driver, ARE WE THERE YET?  He smiled and said, "Yes, I think we just need to go around this bend."  Fourteen hours later, we arrived at my sister's house.

This week, I had a variety of notorious saints to choose from:  St. Joan of Arc, St. Augustine, St. Phillip Neri, and St. Bede.  Despite the huge contributions that these holy ones have made to our faith and the legendary examples they have become, they are all trumped by one.  May 31 is the feast of the Queenship of Mary.  Mary sits at the right hand of Jesus.  She is Queen of Angels, Mother of us all. In fact a more contemporary title for her is 'Lady of All Nations.'  She is the supreme example of obedience, humility and faith.  Many of our protestant brethren do not understand the Catholic relationship to Mary.  Maybe you have encountered this.  They may ask why we worship Mary.  Why we pray to Mary.  The answer I give you is this, we don't worship her, we worship God.  We honor Mary.  We venerate her as the Mother of God, but, we do not worship her.  We pray to her because the last thing that Jesus did, was give his Mother to John.  That symbolized His giving his mother to us.  Even at Cana, she saw what was needed and why, then went to Jesus.  He did what his mother asked.  Volumes have been written on this subject.  I urge you to check it out.  Sometimes though, maybe you just need a short answer to some of these complexities.  In that case, my answer is this:  Mary is like Mapquest (only more accurate) or OnStar.  She is the map that navigates us through daily life to Jesus. We really don't know what is around the next bend.  Sometimes we are the drivers, other times we are the passengers asking, "Are we there yet?"

 

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

saint of the week

Saint of the Week  May 13

 

I think that my son is part fish.  He loves the water.  He passed his deep water test when he was only four years old.  Never in his life has he passed by a puddle without stepping in it.  During these pre Memorial Day scorching days of May we are often found down at the creek.  My daughter and I grimace if the icy water goes above our knees.  My son yells "Geronimo" and jumps right in, smiling.

It seemed only natural then, that my son should join a swim team.  Because of numerous learning disabilities playing a ball related sport is nearly impossible.  Yet, that is how society seems to evaluate our kids.  If they are athletes, they are in.  If they are not, they are out. Wanting my son to be in, I gently encouraged my him to join the team.  He was very hesitant to say the least, but one smile from the cute, teenaged, blonde, female coach and he was hooked.

All summer we rose early for chilly practices.  We went to every meet.

My son swam well, but not great.  The thing was though, he just smiled.  Every race we would cheer for our boy.  Every race he stroked his way down the pool grinning from ear to ear.  Everyone noticed and in turn, they grinned.

At the end of the season there are of course, championships.  Only the best are chosen.

My son had no idea what championships were.  As it turns out championships fall right in the heart of vacation season and our little swim team was hurting, so they turned to Jesse and asked him to swim.

Once I explained to him what championships were, he agreed.  After all the cute blonde would be coaching.

On race day, my little fish swam his heart out, grinning.  He was not their first choice.  He was not the fastest, but he was the only one who looked like they were having a good time.

Our saint of the week is Matthias.  If you listen, you will hear him named during the liturgy of the Eucharist.  Matthias was Judas' replacement.  In Acts, the entire selection dilemma is laid out for us.  The apostles felt that Judas' should be replaced in order to keep with the 12.  The whittled the choices down to 2 men and prayed hard.  Matthias was chosen.  He had been a follower of Jesus since the beginning, he saw it all.  Mostly though, Matthias was not afraid to talk about the resurrection of Christ.  He braved all odds, spread the gospel and built the church. 

 

Perhaps the Holy Spirit inspired the apostles to select Matthias, not because of who he was, but because of who he would become.  Not because of what he had done, but because of what he could and would do.

 

God sees us as we are, as we were and as we will be.  It doesn't matter if you are first string or the replacement, whether you use a pulpit or a pool; just preach the gospel in all that you do.

 

 

Tuesday, May 1, 2007

saint of the week

It's amazing what goes through the mind of an eight year as she winds down to go to sleep.  As we snuggle and read and say prayers a variety of thoughts in random form are vocalized.  During prayers she asks if a bishop can become pope.  As we read she asks if I will remember to write myself a note to send in lemonade to school because it goes with their story in reading class and everyone would really like that and .. . .

I tell her that her fish tank looks nice.  She says yes it does but her friend can not see it because she is not allowed in the house because her mom won't let her because someone got sick from eating in someone's house and . . .

I kiss her and tell her to sleep with the angels.  Her cherubic face smiles, her freshly washed hair smells like oranges and she sighs good night mom.  For a moment there is quiet and then:  Mom?  Yes.  Do baby cows drink from the same place that we get our milk? Uh, Yeah, I guess so. Oh. Well, then do they clean the gutters before we get our milk?  The what?  The gutters! You mean the udders?  YES, DO THEY CLEAN THEM BE FORE WE GET OUR MILK?  Oh, um, I don't think we get our milk from cows that have calves to feed.  Oh, whew.  Good night mommy.   Silence.  Mom?  Yes.  How old would Lucille Ball be if she was still alive today?  I dunno maybe 90.  Oh.  Did she die of cancer?  Yes, I think so. She smoked a lot.  Oh.  Good night mommy.  Goodnight Honey. Then the motion begins.  What was expressed with voice is now expressed with motion.  My husband says that she is building her nest.  It is about this time that the words from the Gospel of Mark come to mind:  BE STILL.  Mark is the only gospel that contains these infamous words.  Both Matthew and Luke contain the story, but only in Mark does Jesus say: BE STILL. 

 

Mark and his mother were among the first Christians.  It is generally believed that the apostles would gather in their house.  I guess it rubbed off because soon Mark began to travel with Paul and Barnabas.  Eventually though, Mark started to work alongside Peter.

His gospel is written based on the teachings and stories of Peter.  If you look closely you can see that.  There are not as many long discourses as the other Gospels, but rather more emphasis on what Jesus DID. 

I am thankful that Mark saw the need to write down what Peter saw and lived through his relationship with Christ.  Where would we be if he did not have the inspiration and perseverance to do it? Imagine writing something that has stood the test of time and forged millions upon millions of Christians? 

 

So as you sit down to write your research papers think about the perseverance that Mark must have had.  Ask St. Mark to inspire you and guide you. 

Chances are, if you are similar to the rest of us, this is the time of year when everything happens:  graduations, communions, confirmations, sports banquets, spring sports, band concerts, choral concerts, field trips, camp registrations . . . .  If you find yourself stressing about the details, go pour yourself a glass of "clean udder" milk, close your eyes and think:  BE STILL.

Friday, April 20, 2007

peace prayer/saint of the week

Blessed are the PEACEMAKERS,

for they shall be known as

the Children of God.

But I say to you that hear,

love your enemies,

do good to those who hate you,

bless those who curse you,

pray for those who abuse you.

To those who strike you on the cheek,

offer the other also,

and from those who take away your cloak,

do not withhold your coat as well.

Give to everyone who begs from you,

and of those who take away your goods,

do not ask them again.

And as you wish that others would do to you,

so do to them.

Tuesday, April 17, 2007

saint of the week

In light of recent events, both at Waterworks and Virginia Tech I will not post a "Saint of the Week" this week.  Instead, for the remainder of the week, I will send to you various prayers for peace.
Please join me in heart felt prayer for an end to violence.
 
Peace Prayer to the Blessed Mother


The greatest gift of The Blessed Mother is Her Love.
It is incumbent upon us, Her children,
to act towards each other
as valued members of the same family.

Holy Mother hear our desires, teach us your wisdom.
Let there be peace of understanding;
Peace of a calming of angers; peace of wisdom,
Peace of a willingness not to seek vengeance.

Let there be peace because we owe it to the children,
Peace because we owe it to the seventh generation.
Peace because we owe it to the parents,
Peace because we owe it to our ancestors.

Let there be peace so that there may be art,
Peace so there may be farming.
Peace so there may be dancing,
Peace so that utterly different peoples may compare their ways with interest.
Let there be peace among humans
So that there may grow to be peace between humans and trees,
Peace between humans a nd all living creatures,
Peace between humans and the land.

Let there be peace so that our ingenuity may undo our damage,
Peace so that we may solve riddles.
Peace so that we may reach the stars,
Peace so we may reach our own souls.

Let there be lasting peace;
Peace among men and women.

Peace among adults and children.
Let us move aside from the dictates of domination.

Let there be true peace.
 
We ask in the name of your Son, Jesus.
Amen
 
 
 

Wednesday, April 11, 2007

saint of the week

Last Saturday Evening my family and I were in Lowe's.  Our trip was a result of one of those"honey,I've been thinking. . ." moments that strike fear in heart of every husband.

Actually I was inspired by the Lowe's gift card that we had just received from some promotional thing.  It would expire in a short time, so of course it was my duty to find a way to use it!

I had decided that it was time to paint the entrance hall.  Unfortunately we have one of those very tall, space wasting things. So before you know it, we found ourselves in Lowe's knee deep in paint swatches.  My two loving, adorable, sweet, sensitive and charming children are directing traffic through the aisles with corner protectors that they felt looked more like directional arrows.  After 20 or so, are you done yet's and can we go now's, a shopping cart race through the aisles and a swordfight with paint sticks, we were finally ready to check out.  Paint, rollers and brushes in hand.  As the kind cashier began to ring up our purchases, I searched my pockets for the gift car d.  Nothing.  Scott searched, nothing.  I knew I had it.  I had put it in the top of the cart with our other papers.  Nothing.  It must have fallen during the shopping cart race that my children sponsored before we caught up with them.  Seeing my despairing look, the cashier smiled, turned off her light and moved over to the next check out.  "Go and look for it, it will be ok."  I'm glad that she was so sure.  After searching the store, customer service and harassing customers, we were still empty handed.  I tried to pray to St. Anthony, but truthfully, I was boiling!  My kids were absolutely on my last nerve.  I was gritting my teeth so hard I could feel them cracking as Scott paid our bill.  As soon as we closed the van doors, the kids, sensing that the apocalypse was approaching began to blame each other.  "Silence!" I blurted. "Not another word, until we get home."  "but, I. ." a little voice from the back said.  "Silence".

 

I realized as we drove, that part of this was my fault; My fault for putting the card in the cart.  For trying to pick out paint despite my kids objections to go to Lowe's in the first place.  Yet, I was deeply disappointed in them.  The same kids that have been on 3 Mission trips and more retreats that I can tally without so much as a whimper, could destroy Lowe's and my sanity in 30 minutes.  Sigh.

Ironically, this coming Sunday, is Divine Mercy Sunday.  It was initiated by a vision of Blessed Faustina.  The above picture is what she saw.  Many, many blessings are attributed to this feast for those who take it seriously.  Especially for those who display the painting of Jesus with streams of light shining through his heart with the words, "Jesus, I  trust in you."  The problem is, many Catholics are unaware of this high feast.  It is our version of the Day of Atonement.

Maybe sometimes God looks at us the way that I looked at my kids in Lowe's.  How can you be so good one minute and so disappointing the next? But God is divine, and I am certainly not even in the ballpark.  His mercy is greater than we can comprehend, because, we are not divine.  God is a God of forgiveness and second chances, BUT it is up to us, to want them.  It is up to us, to strive to be better than we are.  Mother Theresa said that everyday we must work to conquer ourselves.  I wonder if she ever shopped at Lowe's.

 His Mercy grants forgiveness of all sins and punishment on Mercy Sunday for even the most hardened sinners.

Wednesday, April 4, 2007

saint of the week

Image:Ferrer.jpg
 
Pictured above is St. Vincent Ferrar.  His feast day is April 5.  St. Vincent Ferrar lived in the early 1400's.  I really like icons (holy pictures) and study them when I can.  This one shows St. Vincent surrounded by cheribum.  He is holding the Bible in one hand and the Holy Spirit in the other.  His eyes are on heaven, not earth.    St. Vincent was a priest.  He was surrounded by contraversy, in the church, in the government; yet he was able to side step all of that and continue his work.  He helped the poor and loved all of humanity.  He converted many people to catholicism, including jews, because of HOW he was.
That is something that we need to carry with us this Holy week.  Pay attention to HOW you are toward others. Carry with you the Word and the Holy Spirit and keep your eyes on heaven.

Monday, March 26, 2007

saint of the week

March 28 is the feast of Saint Tutilo.  He lived in the 9th Century.  He was an Irishman who studied to become a Benedictine Monk in Switzerland. (How that came to be is not really documented). This guy had more talent in his little finger, than most of us have in our entire body.  He was an artist, an orator, a sculpter, a poet, a mechanic and a musician.
He could play any instrument.  He regularly wrote music used in their liturgies.  Many of his sculptures can still be found in churches throughout Europe.  Here's the thing though, God gave Tutilo a lot of talent, and Tutilo spent his life giving his talent back to God.  He did what he did NOT for the applause of people, but for the applause of God.
 
I wonder how our world would change if we did the same.
 
jd

Monday, March 19, 2007

Saint of the Week

Today is the Feast Day of St. Joseph (the husband of Mary).  Coming on the heels of St. Patrick's Day, St. Joseph's Feast, for many, is likely to slip by unnoticed.  I mean there is no green beer, no lucky charms (by the way, I got a good laugh from finding Lucky Charms in my mail box at the parish), no pots of gold; just a cold rainy March day . I spent this cold evening listening to the Fat Boys version of the "Twist" (repeatedly per my  8 year old) and alternatively dancing, throwing and blocking nerf balls with my kids until we were all redfaced and sweaty and our dogs were utterly confused.  My husband was at work.  His second job is teaching part time at a local university.  This semester he teaches on Monday nights.  He likes teaching, but I am sure that he would rather be at home with us (then again, maybe not),
but sending your kids to a Catholic school does not come with out its price. 
 
On our 10th wedding anniversary, I got my  Methodist husband a St. Joseph's medal.  He was, to say the least perplexed.  I explained to him that everyone needs a go to guy, and I believe that St. Joseph is his.  I see a lot of St. Joseph in him.  I could see that I needed to go further.  I said that the medal is a just a reminder, a visual cue.  It is not an amulet or a sin repellent.  I chose St. Joseph for you, I said, because of his faith and strength.  Silently he supported Mary.  Faithfully he followed God's will for his life.  Lovingly he raised Jesus.  He was committed to his family.  My husband smiled wide and said thank you.
 
In the Nativity movie, there is a scene where Joseph says that Mary's baby is his.  Because of that he is scorned by the community.  Joseph takes the hit in order to protect Mary.  That scene really got to me.
 
St. Joseph is not a little plastic statue that you bury in your yard for a quick sale.  St. Joseph is our protector.  I have a picture of him holding baby Jesus while Mary, in the background is asleep.  I love that.  This past fall, my daughter was Mary in the living Nativity.  After a few carols, her arms got tired so she handed "Jesus" to the boy that was Joseph.  I heard a woman in the crowd gasp.  I wanted to say "HELLO!"  Of course I didn't.  I smiled and thought, atta girl.  If you have ever read the novel, "The Book of God"  the book actually has Joseph helping in the delivery because no one else was around.
We can't say one way or the other to be sure, but the point is, he was a father, in every sense of the word.  The kind of parent we all would like to be.  The kind of parent we all ought to be.
 
I hear the garage door going up, my husband must be home now, I think that I will go and wish him a Happy St. Joseph's Day. (By the way, he converted last Easter).

Tuesday, March 6, 2007

Saint of the Week

This week's saint, is St. John of God.  Just for clarity, I would like to point out that there are many St. Johns.  This is one.  He lived in the 1500's.  I did not write the following.  I tried, but John had such an interesting life, that I did not want to just touch on the highlights, so the following is copied from the Catholic Encylopedia. It is a bit longer than usual, but really worth the read. So, for those of you who tremble, when I speak the infamous words, "You know, I've been thinking. . . ", read this, you'll see how good you have it and you'll be silently thankful that John and I did not live in the same era.
I just love this guy!

From the time he was eight to the day he died, John followed every impulse of his heart. The challenge for him was to rush to follow the promptings of the Holy Spirit gave him, not his own human temptations. But unlike many who act impulsively, when John made a decision, no matter how quickly, he stuck with it, no matter what the hardship.

At eight years old, John heard a visiting priest speak of adventures that were waiting in the age of 1503 with new worlds being opened up. That very night he ran away from home to travel with the priest and never saw his parents again. They begged their way from village to village until John fell sick. The man who nursed him back to health, the manager of a large estate, adopted John. John worked as a shepherd in the mountains until he was 27. Feeling pressure to marry the manager's daughter, whom he loved as a sister, John took off to join the Spanish army in the war against France. As a soldier, he was hardly a model of holiness, taking part in the gambling, drinking, and pillaging that his comrades enjoyed. One day, he was thrown from a stolen horse near French lines. Frightened that he would be captured or killed, he reviewed his life and vowed impulsively to make a change.

When he returned he kept his spur of the moment vow, made a confession, and immediately changed his life. His comrades didn't mind so much that John was repenting but hated that he wanted them to give up their pleasures too. So they used his impulsive nature to trick him into leaving his post on the pretext of helping someone in need. He was rescued from hanging at the last minute and thrown out of the army after being beaten and stripped. He begged his way back to his foster-home where he worked as a shepherd until he heard of a new war with Moslems invading Europe. Off he went but after the war was over, he decided to try to find his real parents. To his grief he discovered both had died in his absence.

As a shepherd he had plenty of time to contemplate what God might want of his life. When he decided at 38 that he should go to Africa to ransom Christian captives, he quit immediately and set off for the port of Gibraltar. He was on the dock waiting for his ship when he saw a family obviously upset and grieving. When he discovered they were a noble family being exiled to Africa after political intrigues, he abandoned his original plan and volunteered to be their servant. The family fell sick when they reached their exile and John kept them alive not only by nursing them but by earning money to feed them. His job building fortifications was grueling, inhuman work and the workers were beaten and mistreated by people who called themselves Catholics. Seeing Christians act this way so disturbed John that it shook his faith. A priest advised him not to blame the Church for their actions and to leave for Spain at once. John did go back home -- but only after he learned that his n ewly a dopted family had received pardons.

In Spain he spent his days unloading ship cargoes and his nights visiting churches and reading spiritual books. Reading gave him so much pleasure that he decided that he should share this joy with others. He quit his job and became a book peddler, traveling from town to town selling religious books and holy cards. A vision at age 41 brought him to Granada where he sold books from a little shop. (For this reason he is patron saint of booksellers and printers.)

After hearing a sermon from the famous John of Avila on repentance, he was so overcome by the thought of his sins that the whole town thought the little bookseller had gone from simple eccentricity to madness. After the sermon John rushed back to his shop, tore up any secular books he had, gave away all his religious books and all his money. Clothes torn and weeping, he was the target of insults, jokes, and even stones and mud from the townspeople and their children.

Friends took the distraught John to the Royal Hospital where he was interned with the lunatics. John suffered the standard treatment of the time -- being tied down and daily whipping. John of Avila came to visit him there and told him his penance had gone on long enough -- forty days, the same amount as the Lord's suffering the desert -- and had John moved to a better part of the hospital.

John of God could never see suffering without trying to do something about it. And now that he was free to move, although still a patient, he immediately got up and began to help the other sick people around him. The hospital was glad to have his unpaid nursing help and were not happy to release him when one day he walked in to announce he was going to start his own hospital.

John may have been positive that God wanted him to start a hospital for the poor who got bad treatment, if any, from the other hospitals, but everyone else still thought of him as a madman. It didn't help that he decided to try to finance his plan by selling wood in the square. At night he took what little money he earned and brought food and comfort to the poor living in abandoned buildings and under bridges. Thus his first hospital was the streets of Granada.

Within an hour after seeing a sign in a window saying "House to let for lodging of the poor" he had rented the house in order to move his nursing indoors. Of course he rented it without money for furnishings, medicine, or help. After he begged money for beds, he went out in the streets again and carried his ill patients back on the same shoulders that had carried stones, wood, and books. Once there he cleaned them, dressed their wounds, and mended their clothes at night while he prayed. He used his old experience as a peddler to beg alms, crying through the streets in his peddler's voice, "Do good to yourselves! For the love of God, Brothers, do good!" Instead of selling goods, he took anything given -- scraps of good, clothing, a coin here and there.

Throughout his life he was criticized by people who didn't like the fact that his impulsive love embraced anyone in need without asking for credentials or character witnesses. When he was able to move his hospital to an old Carmelite monastery, he opened a homeless shelter in the monastery hall. Immediately critics tried to close him down saying he was pampering troublemakers. His answer to this criticism always was that he knew of only one bad character in the hospital and that was himself. His urge to act immediately when he saw need got him into trouble more than a few times. Once, when he encountered a group of starving people, he rushed into a house, stole a pot of food, and gave it to them. He was almost arrested for that charity! Another time, on finding a group of children in rags, he marched them into a clothing shop and bought them all new clothes. Since he had no money, he paid for it all on credit!

Yet his impulsive wish to help saved many people in one emergency. The alarm went out that the Royal Hospital was on fire. When he dropped everything to run there, he found that the crowd was just standing around watching the hospital -- and its patients -- go up in flames. He rushed into the blazing building and carried or led the patients out. When all the patients were rescued, he started throwing blankets, sheets, and mattresses out the windows -- how well he knew from his own hard work how important these things were. At that point a cannon was brought to destroy the burning part of the building in order to save the rest. John stopped them, ran up the roof, and separated the burning portion with an axe. He succeeded but fell through the burning roof. All thought they had lost their hero until John of God appeared miraculously out of smoke. (For this reason, John of God is patron saint of firefighters.)

John was ill himself when he heard that a flood was bringing precious driftwood near the town. He jumped out of bed to gather the wood from the raging river. Then when one of his companions fell into the river, John without thought for his illness or safety jumped in after him. He failed to save the boy and caught pneumonia. He died on March 8, his fifty-fifth birthday, of the same impulsive love that had guided his whole life.

When you feel the urge to serve, help, or pray do you act on it or argue yourself out of it? Today if you feel an impulse to do good, do it immediately as John of God would have done without thinking of how practical or how embarrassing it might be.

Wouldn't it be great if we all had the "impulsive love" that John had? Love that has nothing to do with sex, but actually, love that means love.  Christian love.  Knee jerk, impulsive Christian love.

Wow. What a guy.

Monday, March 5, 2007

saint of the week

KDKA-TV used to do this thing about home town heroes.  Once, they even came to our Camp Helping Hand and showed some teens cleaning up a neighbors yard.  It was a great boost for our youth group!
Unfortuneately though, our society likes to make heroes out of sports figures not kids with rakes.  Some times the sports figures are, mostly though, they are not.  Scott (my husband for those of you who are new to saint of the week)  hates to sit next to me at Pirate games.  I do not clap when the fielder move two steps to catch a fly ball.  I think that is their job.  They are being paid millions to do it, why should I clap?  Does anyone clap for you, I ask my accoutant husband, when you balance the books?  Does anyone clap for the teachers when a student learns?  When the mail lady puts the mail in the box, do I clap?  No.  That is her job. (If she ever put a Publisher's Clearing House check in my mailbox however, I would not only clap, but I would offer to drive the truck for the remainder of her route!) 
But there are heroes among us.  My friend Ann, who was born with cerebral palsy is a hero in my book.  I don't think she has missed the March for Life in 30 years.  When she zips her wheel chair down the side walk for mass on Sunday, I am sure that she doesn't feel very hero-like.  She's never caught a fly ball or made a 3 pointer. I've been to her house.  She does not have a wall of medals. But she has it.  The it that makes her a hero.
 
Katherine Drexel had it.  Believe it or not, she is an American Saint, born here in Pennsylvania. Her feast day is this week. Most of the time, we seem to hear about heroes who were mistreated or neglected in their youth.  Katherine was not. She had a wealthy family who loved her.  She was educated.  Yet, she saw beyond her comfort to the discomfort of others.  She saw the plight of the American Indians and the Blacks.  She became a sister of the Sacred Heart of Jesus.  She used her inheritance to set up schools for the Indians and Blacks.  Xavier University is one such example. 
She had so much it that she was canonized in the year 2000, just 45 years after her death.
Talk about a Home town Hero.
 
A line from the "Cat in the Hat Comes Back" by Dr. Seuss is sticking in my head.  It was something like, "Don't ask me what it is, we may never know."
I hope that we do know.  I hope that we reach out and grab it with both hands.
I hope that we look beyond what people are wearing.  I hope that we look beyond the immediate to the eternal.  I hope that we look hard and long at ourselves this lent.  I hope that some time in our lives we kneel before God and say, "You're It!"
and then run like crazy. . . . ..
to Him.

This is a really real picture of St. Katherine Drexel.

Monday, February 19, 2007

saint of the week

So, here we are with Lent rapidly approaching.  Maybe you are trying to decide what to give up or what to do for Lent.  Maybe you are like my husband, and planning to give up your New Year's Resolution for lent.  Maybe you haven't even given it a thought.
 
Whatever the case, consider this:  This week we also celebrate the Chair of St. Peter.
To be honest I had to look this one up.  Why celebrate um, a chair?  Well, because of what it means.
Christ put Peter in charge.  He gave him the keys to church (on holy cards, Peter is usually pictured as a bald guy holding keys).  The chair signifies the unity of church.  It signifies the one who Christ chose to keep things rolling. It's important. 
 
I think that we should look at the guy though, I think we need to take a look at Peter.
As we discuss in Intersection, everything that is in the Gospels is there for a reason.  Peter is often in the Gospels.  More often than not he is screwing up.  He tries to walk on water, but he sinks.  He sees Jesus transfigured and wants to build a tent.  He falls asleep in the garden.  He denies even knowing Christ.
Yet, when Jesus asks who do you say that I am, Peter nails it.  He says that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of the Living God. 
Whoa.  Peter has passion.  Yes, he screws up.  Can you imagine the pain he must have been in, the torment that he endured between Good Friday and Easter for denying Christ?  Maybe that's why the first word that the Risen Christ says is "peace".  In a word, He tells Peter, that he understands, and that all is well.
God likes passion.  In the Book of Revelation, God says that he does not want us to be lukewarm about our faith.  He says that if we are, He will spit us out!  ew.
Maybe that's why Jesus likes Peter.  He is not luke warm.  He is zesty.  He is on fire.
He gives the keys of heaven to a guy who is totally human.  Who screws up, but loves God with all of His heart, and undoubtedly he would have followed Christ to the ends of the earth.
Word is that Peter died in 64 AD. He was a martyr. He was crucified upside down because he did not feel worthy to die the same way as Christ.  Zesty even in death.
So maybe this lent, if you are feeling kind of lukewarm about your faith, you should work to regain your passion.  If you can get that by just giving up chips, God bless you.  But if you are like the rest of us, it's going to take more than that.  If you need some ideas, just email me.  I have tons of them, just ask my kids.  Casey wants to give up lent for lent.
Well, all that being said, I am now going to retire to the Chair of Jamie.
It does not signify any thing other than the kids are asleep and it's time to watch Grey's Anatomy.

Monday, February 12, 2007

saint of the week

So today I was in Giant Eagle and stumbled into the "Valentine's Day" aisle.  It was quite "picked over".
I guess more people shop ahead for Valentine's day than they do for Christmas.  I decided that I would make my family brownies.  Surely homemade brownies with icing and sprinkles would show them how much I love them.
 
St. Valentine's Day was actually christianity's counter punch to the Roman feast of Lupercalia. Lupercalia was believed to be when the birds picked their mates.  So humans being so much more evolved, did the the same.  It became a Roman holiday in which the women would put their names into a "hat".  They guys picked a name and the woman was forced to be his "romantic" partner until next Lupercalia.
 
St. Valentine, was known to marry couples when such was forbidden by the Roman emperor Claudius.  Claudius thought that married men did not make good solidiers. Obviously Valentine thought that love was more important than war and continued to be a good priest and perform marriage ceremonies.  Claudius heard about it, had him arrested, beaten and when he would not renounce his faith, beheaded.
 
And so St. Valentine became the logical catholic choice for rivaling Lupercalia.  In the 1960's the church dropped St. Valentine's day from the church calendar and gave the day to St. Cyril.  The secular world continues to give hearts and candy.  It is a much better, I have to say, than picking names from a hat.
 
I think that we should use the day to remember people who love us as we are.  You know the ones, the ones who love us when we have bad hair days, have spinach in our teeth or spaghetti on our shirt.  The ones who we miss when we are away.  The ones who make us laugh, make us crazy, wake us cuz they are snoring (um, not to mention any names, scott), make us peanut butter crackers, run and get us diet pepsi's .  The ones that you say you're sorry to, and actually mean it.
 
So my friends, pass along a little love today.  Whether it is a hug, a smile, a paper heart or brownies with icing and sprinkles. The Lord knows, we all could use it.