No Complaints

I left mass and headed for the grocery store. It was an extremely cold and windy January morning. As I pulled into the lot, I noticed two city workers struggling with an enormous American flag, preparing to run it up the flagpole. This flag looked every bit of fifteen by twenty feet, very impressive. I turned my car around and prepared to watch what they were doing.
The flag was bundled and held by one man, while the other was attaching it to the ropes. Their bodies rocked as they braced themselves against the wind, all the while struggling to maintain the dignity of the flag, leaning into the wind, gathering any ends of the flag that tried to break free of their grasp. It was definitely a unified effort on the part of both men, they had done this before.
As the flag was attached, the older man started to hoist, while the younger of the two held fast to the flag, both men still being buffeted by the strong wind. I noticed the wind pulling their bodies to and fro while they readjusted their feet to stabilize themselves. I could feel my car rocking in the wind.
The man holding the flag raised his hands, still holding the flag tightly. Once the danger of the flag touching the ground had passed, he gradually released his hold on the flag. The older man was hoisting with all of his might, the younger man placed his hand on the arm of the other and the older man released the crank to the younger. He began to hoist the flag faster. Halfway up the pole the flag unfurled and it was a glory to behold. Seldom had I witnessed anything so beautiful.
They stood together and stared up. I know their hearts felt like mine. A tear rolled down my cheek. I love this country. I love the American Flag and what it stands for. So proud of America and Her people, good people just like these ordinary men.
I put my car in gear and drove over to them. "Hey guys, great job!" I said. They smiled and looked at the ground, embarrassed someone had been watching them. "No, really, great job, you made my day. Thank you. She's really a beauty." They nodded my approval. They gathered their tools, took one last look at the flag and got into their truck.
Sometimes I complain about the state of affairs in this country, and rightly so. When I complain, it makes me forget about the good. These two men, these city workers, helped me to remember the good.
Thank you to all of the hard working Americans that go through their workday doing ordinary things, that, when you think about them with gratitude, aren't really ordinary at all, are they?

Full Circle, An Abortion Story of Hope

     This is the abortion story of Christina. Christina is not her real name, but her pain is very real. She is a 38 year old single mother of a soon to be 5 year old boy. Christina grew up in a home of 6 children, all of which had different fathers. She never knew her father, her mother knew who her father was (maybe) but refused to tell. Christina spent most of her childhood looking for love. When she became a teen she was still confused about the meaning of love as she had no one to show her. She began substituting sex for love and soon became pregnant by an older man(father figure breaking the law) who was a casual sexual acquaintance. At this time she was living with friends but her pregnancy soon became the reason for her homelessness. She went from place to place and finally ended up at the home of an aunt and uncle. When she confided to her cousin that she was pregnant her aunt said that she could stay, but her baby could not. Nice. She was 18 weeks pregnant at this time and she could feel the baby moving quite a bit. Her uncle agreed to pay the $500 for the abortion(wow, nice guy) but her aunt and uncle could not sign for her to have the abortion because her mother was her legal guardian. No problem said mom, I will just give you guardianship then you can get her the abortion. Christina was 18 weeks and 3 days pregnant at the age of 16 when she had her abortion. It was a 2 day procedure, she had a suction abortion. She talked about how badly it hurt, how she was in so much pain, she will never forget the pain and when it was over she told me she felt like she had died and that her insides were dead. Is your heart breaking yet?
     After her abortion Christina tried to get back to the business of life but school didn't interest her anymore. Auntie & uncle needed her to go to work anyway to make herself useful. And here began the downward spiral of more casual sex, substance abuse, and depression. Fast forward 18 years. Christina is 35, trying to hold it together with a string of nowhere jobs and is working in a fast food restaurant, that is where we meet. She tells a friend of mine, also having lunch that same day at the same time  I am there, that she plans on having an abortion. They come to me and say, "That girl behind the counter is pregnant and contemplating an abortion, will you talk with her?" I said that I would if she would be willing to talk to me. We spoke a little in the restaurant and agreed to meet the next day. I went to her run down rented mobile home and knocked on the door, we greeted each other, she invited me in, I sat down and we began to talk. She revealed to me her teenage abortion experience and the suffering she has endured as a result of the loss of that child. She enumerated the problems she was currently having with her lack of education, her inability to generate a sufficient income, her transportation problems and her self esteem. She was concerned with a looming car repair bill of one thousand dollars. "Well, you know," I said, "if you have the abortion, your car will still need to be fixed, only you will be the mother of two dead children instead of one." You would have thought I had struck her in the face by her reaction, but it seemed to wake her from her "I have to kill my baby, there's no other way" stupor. "That is so true" Christina said. "I will help you Christina. Whatever it takes, whatever you need, I will help you." The car was fixed by a bunch of my friends working through the Society of St. Vincent De Paul in my parish. The pregnancy was a tough one. The forces of darkness were not willing to let this child go easily. There were many tears shed, sleepless nights and even some visits to a locked psychiatric ward - new experience for me. The day her son was born was indeed a joy. That was almost five years ago. Time passes so quickly. It hasn't been easy all the time for her or for me, but it hasn't been hard all the time either. It's just pretty much been like regular life, filled with ups and downs, good times and bad, joys and sufferings. She has come a long way. Finishing her high school education, starting on college, buying her own home. I'm very proud of her and her son is adorable, I see him from time to time. She always tells me she wishes I had been her mom. We don't get to pick our mothers. God gives us the mother He chooses for us. We do the best with what we've been given, that's all God expects, our best. Life is beautiful, never forget that.

The End, Or Is It?

Summer is speeding swiftly by with nothing to show for it but a really bad sunburn. I am so itchy right now, even as I type my trusty backscratcher is never far from me. I know, I should have been smarter in the sun. I guess we just can't feel ourselves cooking until we're cooked. Or maybe it's the classic, "it could never happen to me." Whatever the case this particular sunburn has made me think about my own mortality. Oh, it's not just the sunburn, I happen to be reading a book right now titled, The End of The Present World and The Mysteries of the Future Life by Fr. Charles Arminjon, AND, I just finished a course on Biblical Archaeology.
It must be the cataclysm of these three events combined that have made me focus on the eschatalogical,(End Times)and my own mortality.
St. Therese of Lisieux said that "Reading this book was one of the greatest graces of my life."
It is a fascinating book indeed and I highly recommend reading it. The archaeology course was also pretty amazing. It made me realize how alike we are to peoples of the past. They were smart, solved problems, worked, created art and inventions, educated themselves, worshiped The God, a god or many gods and built upon the foundations of previous civilizations. I will never look at a retaining wall the same way again. They lived and died as we will also. What will be our legacy when they unearth our civilization? Will they say of us that we were a nation committed to child sacrifice? Will they consider us uncivilized barbarians, unable to see the wealth of the human person?
We looked at so many slides of the Holy Land, it was just beautiful. One picture showed the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. It is the church built over the spot of the Crucifixion of Christ and the tomb where he was laid. It showed the Hill of Calvary which was a rock formation that had cracked open and permeating the rock was a red stain. Tradition says that when Christ shed his blood it ran down the hill of Calvary staining the rock, cracking it open and falling upon the skull of Adam buried beneath it, thus redeeming mankind. I will think about this for a long time. It is tradition, not dogma, but beautiful none the less.
It is good for us to think of the end, the greatest uncertainty of our existence and yet the greatest confidence.
St. Jerome says with regard to St. Paul's reference to the "sounding of the last trumpet", "At the sound of the last trumpet, the whole earth will be stricken with fear", and, "Whether you are reading or sleeping, writing or keeping watch,let that trumpet always resound in your ears."
Let us always be attentive, listening for the sound of that trumpet. For one thing is certain, the trumpet will blow whether for one or for all, and to the God who made us we will render an account.

Happy Birthday America

Ah, the 4th of July! Bar-b-Que, watermelon, cool drinks, fireworks,r & r and just plain old American fun. Thanks be to God that we live in a country where men are free to enjoy all that we have been blessed with.
This holiday has special significance for me, it is my husband's birthday. He has always had a patriotic side to him. He has served God and his country well, and his loyalty to God and country never cease to amaze me. He is truly the best of what makes America great.
I watched him put out the American flag in front of our house, he didn't know that I was watching, but after he put the flag in the holder, he placed his hand over his heart and looking up at the stars and stripes I could see his lips moving slightly. I know that he was praying for our country. It is fitting and proper that he was born on this day. God knows what he is doing. While some use the day to work on their tans or add a few inches to their waist, I must say that my husband has always had an understanding of this day from a very young age.
Thank you honey for your example and love of country, it is contagious. Happy Birthday and many, many, more. I love you.

Remember to Pray for Priests

When the Blessed Mother looks at a priest, she sees her Son.
When the Blessed Mother looks at a priest at holy mass,
She sees her Son on Calvary.

Thanks to the Greatest Generation

Just couldn't let Memorial Day go by without a post. Public television ran a documentary all day long about four school teachers that went back to Omaha Beach with some of the soldiers that had landed there in 1944. They looped the story and it ran over and over. I must have watched it at least four or five times. It was truly a heart wrenching journey. The main idea was that these teachers knew that they had a responsibility to keep the memories alive, and pass them on to the next generation.
When I looked at the crosses in the cemetery of the fallen at Normandy, and realizing that there was a life, a face, that belonged to each cross, a young life. Many of these were mere boys, 15, 16, 18 years old, just at the beginning of their lives, it was almost overwhelming. Seventy five thousand lives lost in military casualties.
The ultimate sacrifice.
Freedom. One of the most beautiful words in the English language, and one of the most misunderstood, until it is lost.
I took my 3 grandchildren to Jefferson Barracks National Cemetery yesterday at sunset for prayer and remembrance of those who had served. The cemetery was quiet and peaceful. The ceremony of the days events had long ended. Each grave was rightly adorned with its own American flag, the symbol of freedom. Deer fed unaffected by us as we made our way through the ranks. It seemed as if even they realized in some remote way that they were protected by those who rested beneath the grass that nourished them. May we never, ever, forget them.
May God have mercy on those brave and honorable specimens of humanity. May God comfort the hearts of their families. May God grant them the peace that surpasses all understanding, and a place of Eternal Light and rest.
I remember you Dad, thanks for your service and love of country, hope to see you again in just a little while. I love you.

He Is Risen, Alleluia, Alleluia

He is risen indeed! Wow this Lent was a tough one, so much suffering everywhere. Thank God He lives. The house is clean(sort of), the Easter feast is as prepared as much as possible before tomorrow(Easter Sunday) and I rest from my work as I write and listen to the chanting of the Exsultet from St. Peter's in Rome. It doesn't get any better than this. Unless, of course, if I were there.
I reminded myself all day that I was doing my work for Christ. It's all for You, Jesus, because You gave All for me. Christ makes everything we do out of love for Him worthwhile. He made me, He sustains me, and He will raise this mortal body from the dust one day. I am going to live forever, forever. As the song says, "forever is a long, long time, baby." I just hope it is in the non-smoking section. I am rambling now, too many Pinesol fumes. A Blessed, holy and joy filled Easter to all.