House of Zathras

How do I know this?

Because apparently the word ‘papal’, as in ‘Papal blessing’ is considered to be a naughty word, and an email containing the word ‘papal’ will be thrown into Spamland. And Fred hates us Catholics. And homosexuals. And soldiers. And, well, anyone who isn’t a member of his so-called ‘church’. I just didn’t know he was running an ISP to further his bigotry.

One of my mother’s friends has already contacted the provider, and they’ve promised to have the problem rectified within 48 hours. I don’t know if I’ll survive this 48 hour period, however, because my mother keeps asking people to send her emails with the words ‘papal blessing’ in it. *sigh*

Am I a plagiarist? I might be, at least according to this site, “I Write Like” (H/T to WB for the ‘I Write Like’ link.) :

I write like
Dan Brown

I Write Like by Mémoires, Mac journal software. Analyze your writing!

Some of my posts got ‘Stephen King’, too.

Eh. So I write like a guy. Guys I don’t care for too much, actually. Except for King’s ‘The Stand’. All his other stuff creeps me out…which means he’s a good writer.

Dan Brown is a good writer, too…’The DaVinci Code’ was a great suspense novel, but as I read it I saw a lot of fallacies about Catholic teachings. Knew the fundie non-Catholics would take it as ‘truth’, and well, you know how that went. That book did make me research some things…I found a site where this nutcase truly believed in Opus Dei operatives. (Won’t link to it here, but I’ll send you the link if you wish to be amused.) ‘Mr. Brimstone’ was warning Protestant churches that Catholic priests and nuns would infiltrate their churches disguised as devout married couples. These couples would build status in the church and then DESTROY it through devious means, turning the ‘real’ Christians against each other through all kinds of discord.

But never fear…this righteous defender against evil Catholics knew of two sure-fire ways to root out those insidious Opus Dei devils. The first was that Catholics NEVER wear orange (goes back to the days of the Irish rebellion…orange was the Protestant color!!!!). So this loony guy suggested throwing a party with the color ‘orange’ as a theme, and those blasted Opus Dei folks will arrive dressed in another color, saying they couldn’t find anything orange to wear.

His second sure-fire method was to look for a symbol of Opus Dei…the donkey, an animal of servitude. Mr. Brimstone said that there will be a picture or statuette of a donkey somewhere in the Opus Dei operatives’ house.

Man, I thought this guy was really reaching for it. Until I went to put some items up in BR’s armoire one day. I opened the door and saw this:

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Oil still spewing in the Gulf. White House response? Moratorium on exploratory drilling, leading the way to further job loss.

Arizona passes law in an effort to curb illegal immigration. White House response? Sue Arizona.

National Parks being declared ‘no mans land’ due to Mexican usage…Mexican drug cartels using the hills to monitor any policing activity….White House response? Obama goes golfing.

We have an incursion by enemy combatants…and it is allowed to happen.

Obama is no American president…I don’t know what he is, but he is no American leader. He is a tool of liberal agendas, and doesn’t even try to pretend to care about America’s people. He’s intelligent…but that intelligence is distorted by his apparent narcissism that he allows to be lick-spittled into making the absolute wrong choices for this country’s future. A terrible waste of a mind. A miserable failure. A disgrace. And he doesn’t give a damn.

Father, we seek Your peace for our nation and our world.
In the midst of our questions and uncertainty,
we recognize that the unknown details of this day
are already in Your grasp.
We know You sent Your Son as the Prince of Peace
and even this day falls under His command.
Help us to find the strength and comfort we need as a nation
to continue to humble ourselves,
pray and seek Your face for a new day in America
and a new hope for our world.
Amen.

My son Eraserhead is home for his summer break. Hasn’t had any luck finding a job. But three mornings a week, he gets up early to go serve Mass. He made this choice on his own, with no encouragement from anyone else.

Yes, I’m proud of him!

We thought of him
as one smitten by God
but he was pierced for our offenses
crushed for our sins
by his stripes we are healed…

Graphic, but realistic, video. Music is from Symphony No.3 by Henryk Górecki. One movement is inspired by a 15th century Polish lament of Mary. Another was inspired by a message written in WWII on a Gestapo cell wall: “O Mamo nie p?acz nie—Niebios Przeczysta Królowo Ty zawsze wspieraj mnie” (Oh Mamma do not cry—Immaculate Queen of Heaven support me always.)

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Tinkling. Thurible chain clicking in groups of three. Father, Son, Holy Spirit.

Swirling. Incense spiraling through the vaulted air.

Splashing. Washing feet, modeled by Jesus as service unto others.

Proceeding. Quiet pathway through the Church to the altar of repose.

Pondering. In silence, the darkest and brightest moments of the body of Christ.

Quiet. Quiet. Tears. Thus begins the Nightwatch.

God our Father,
Giver of life,
we entrust the United States of America to Your loving care.

You are the rock on which this nation was founded.
You alone are the true source of our cherished rights to life,
liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Reclaim this land for Your glory and dwell among Your people.

Send Your Spirit to touch the hearts of our nation´s leaders.
Open their minds to the great worth of human life
and the responsibilities that accompany human freedom.
Remind Your people that true happiness is rooted in seeking
and doing Your will.

Through the intercession of Mary Immaculate,
Patroness of our land,
grant us the courage to reject the “culture of death.”
Lead us into a new millennium of life.
We ask this through Christ Our Lord.

Amen.

I unwind with Facebook…in particular with Farmville. Yeah, I’m a junkie. Keep saying I’ll quit, but dammit…I want a dog for my farm! I can’t quit till I get one!

Anyway, since it’s my ‘unwinding’ time, I usually mark myself ‘offline’ so I don’t have to worry about someone wanting to chat with me. Well, actually it’s one person in particular, but it’s because I’m not there to chit-chat. And this one person wants to chit-chat and get on my good side. I don’t have one of those!!

But today for some reason I put myself ‘visible’ to the rest of the FB world. And shortly after that, my niece contacted me asking for help in what to say to a young woman considering an abortion.

I hope I told her something that would help. I’ve always felt that in most cases of women considering an abortion, it’s because they feel they have no real support from those closest to them.

May God be with that girl, no matter what she decides.

Because of the pain. Because of the peace. Because of the sorrow and soul-searching. Because of the tears shed. Because of looking inside and finding flaws I wish could stay hidden. Because of the acceptance despite the flaws. Because of the vast emptiness that finds even larger creations of overwhelming joy. Because of the humility.

That’s why I attend the Stations of the Cross every Friday during Lent.
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The Lenten Season begins today with Ash Wednesday. As I’m too tired to express spiritual thoughts in a meaningful way, I’ll just post the Psalm from today’s Mass:

Have mercy on me, God, in your kindness. In your compassion blot out my offense. O wash me more and more from my guilt and cleanse me from my sin. My offenses truly I know them; my sin is always before me. Against you, you alone, have I sinned; what is evil in your sight I have done. That you may be justified when you give sentence and be without reproach when you judge. O see, in guilt was I born, a sinner was I conceived. Indeed you love truth in the heart; then in the secret of my heart teach me wisdom. O purify me, then I shall be clean; O wash me, I shall be whiter than snow. Make me hear rejoicing and gladness, that the bones you have crushed may revive. From my sins turn away your face and blot out all my guilt. A pure heart create for me, O God, put a steadfast spirit within me. Do not cast me away from your presence, nor deprive me of your holy spirit. Give me again the joy of your help; with a spirit of fervor sustain me, that I may teach transgressors your ways and sinners may return to you. O rescue me, God, my helper, and my tongue shall ring out your goodness. O Lord, open my lips and my mouth shall declare your praise. For in sacrifice you take no delight, burnt offering from me you would refuse; my sacrifice, a contrite spirit. A humbled, contrite heart you will not spurn. In your goodness, show favor to Zion: rebuild the walls of Jerusalem. Then you will be pleased with lawful sacrifice, holocausts offered on your altar.
-Psalm 51 (Miserere)

I’m worn out! Hit the ground running Monday morning…School had been cancelled Friday because of a ‘snow day’ (never saw a lick of snow! And is Florida the only state to have schools out for both a ‘hurricane day’ and a ‘snow day’ within three months of each other?). When I had left on Thursday, the superintendent had said there was a 99% chance we WOULD have school the next day, so I didn’t bring home my plan book. Which meant that when school WAS closed on Friday, I hadn’t finished my plans for this week. And when I got there Monday morning, nothing was up for the new week…new vocabulary and spelling words, new ‘objectives’, yadda, yadda, yadda. And then I had to leave right after the students did to take Princess No to dentist and eye appointments.

I had also promised to take Princess No and a friend to a Mardi Gras parade last night, too. I was really too tired to go…but had a blast! I haven’t been to a parade in several years, and kind of forgot how much fun they could be! The yelling and screaming and grabbing…almost like being in Congress. Wait…bad analogy. But a lot of fun. And watch out for those old ladies. They will take you out trying to get the throws. New for this year – peanut butter moonpies. O.M.G. Like the Girl Scout peanut butter cookies, only much, much better!

So I didn’t get in till late from the parade, and dragged my tired butt to school, STILL without completed plans, and had an early morning appointment with the school intervention team for a student with problems. Another 45 minutes away from my classroom. This week is crazy, and it’s only Tuesday!!!!

Lent starts tomorrow with Ash Wednesday…so no meat. Which is why we picked up a Papa Murphy’s 5-meat pizza tonight. I’m making ‘Fat Tuesday’ live up to its name, yes, indeed. (And to my exercise buddies…as soon as it digests a little, I WILL be on the treadmill!)

But I really need to think of a Lenten exercise to implement…my spiritual life has really been lacking lately. I need to work on that more. Maybe be sure to pray the rosary every day…instead of just falling into bed each night and being asleep within three minutes. Focus a little more on slowing down and getting away from the worldly stress that takes away from everything I do.

It’s about 6:30 in the evening, but my body feels like it’s almost midnight. No Facebook or Farmville tonight. Time to do a few things for myself (exercise and read), and then go to bed.

Good-night, y’all!

Fuck you, Pat Robertson. I don’t know who your God is, but mine doesn’t harbor supposed revenge over time to punish innocents.

Mine would be telling me, ‘Do what you can to help my children who are suffering.’

As my spiritual leader said, “I appeal to everyone’s generosity, so that these brothers and sisters of ours who are living through a time of need and pain receive our concrete solidarity and the effective help of the international community,”

And Mr. Pat…I don’t think you’ll be getting any pearls in your crown over this.

Dear Lord,
We pray that this New Year will bring us closer to You.
May we take the time to get to know You.
Help us to truly celebrate the gifts You have graciously given us
and use them to serve You and spread Your word,

May we also see and love you in all the people we meet,
so that in turn, they can see You in us.

We know that all human relations take time
if they are to grow and deepen.
This is also true of our relations with You,
in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,
which must grow over the course of our lives.
In this new year,
let us realize that every action of ours
no matter how great or small
enables us to be in touch with You.
Let us accept You in our lives,
in the way it pleases You,
as Truth, to be spoken,
as Life, to be lived,
as Light, to be lighted,
as Love, to be followed,
as Joy, to be given,
as Peace, to be spread about,
as Sacrifice, to be offered among our relatives,
friends, neighbors and all people.

Amen.

To mark the beginning of the Advent Season, an Irish carol ‘Don Oiche Ud i m’Beithil’: I sing of a night in Bethlehem.

I sing of a night in Bethlehem
A night as bright as dawn
I sing of that night in Bethlehem
The night the Word was born
The skies are glowing gaily
The earth in white is dressed
See Jesus in the cradle
Drink deep in His mother’s breast
And there on a lonely hillside
The shepherds bow down in fear
When the heavens open brightly
And God’s message rings out so clear
Glory now to the Father
In all the heavens high
And peace to His friends on earth below
Is all the angels cry

The roll call at the end of the Ft. Hood Memorial was just awful to listen to. God bless those who gave their lives.

You know, when one leaves one’s purse at home, containing one’s cell phone and wallet with one’s driver’s license…you become the most amazingly careful driver. No passing, no speeding, no shortcuts.

And it takes longer to get home, too.

I just LOVE this picture that appeared recently on the front page of our Catholic Week newspaper.

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Robert L. Scandole, Jr. was working as a vice-president at Cantor Fitzgerald the morning of September 11, 2001.

Beyond that, I haven’t been able to find much information on him, except on memorial pages such as this one and this one. The comments are so touching, giving evidence of loving family and friends. His daughter even mentions Mardi Gras in the comments. That made me smile. I hope that Mr. Scandole was able to participate in Mardi Gras and all its fun and revelry. It also makes me curious about how someone who lived in New York knew about Mardi Gras. Was he from the New Orleans or another Gulf Coast town that celebrates Mardi Gras? Did he have family down here? Or was it celebrated where he lived? Had he never been to a Mardi Gras parade, and maybe was getting ready to go to his first?

So many questions about a man I never met. It would be such an honor to find out more about him, maybe have his family share some stories about him.

Speaking of Mardi Gras, the following Bible passage is often related to that pre-Lenten season:

Come, let us enjoy the good things that exist,
and make use of the creation to the full as in youth.
Let us take our fill of costly wine and perfumes,
and let no flower of spring pass us by.
Let us crown ourselves with rosebuds before they wither.
Let none of us fail to share in our revelry;
because this is our portion, and this our lot. (Wisdom 2:6-9)

Although I know his family mourns Mr. Scandole, I hope they are savoring the ‘portion and lot’ in memories of the joy of his life. His life is remembered by those who never met him. I hope this small tribute to him makes Mr. Scandole more than just a name on a list. I hope he enjoyed his life fully, and my prayers and thoughts go out to his family.

Incline, O Lord,
Thine ear to our prayers,
in which we humbly beseech Thy mercy,
that Thou wouldst place the soul of Thy servant Robert,
which Thou hast caused to depart from this world,
into the region of peace and light;
and unite in the fellowship of Thy Saints.
Through Christ our Lord,
Amen.

How do you write a memorial to someone you or your friends or family have never met? You don’t know her tastes, what movies she enjoyed, what hobbies she had, how she met her husband. Even more daunting is when that person lost her life in the greatest tragedy to ever strike our country. Countless eulogies and columns and stories and pictures and songs have been published that move people in a way I could never hope to match. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try. Every one of the victims who lost their lives deserves to be remembered in some way. It is with great honor that I dedicate this post to Maria Jakubiak and her family. Maria is not forgotten.

Maria and her family emigrated from Poland. According to what I have read, they had a choice between Canada and America. She chose America, because she ‘wanted to see the Statue of Liberty’. What wonderful courage Maria must have had to face coming to a new country, learning a new language, and raising a family in a different culture. She succeeded in those endeavors, learning English, getting her Associates’ Degree, finding employment, going to night-school for her Bachelor’s. The tributes all mark her as a caring employee, even acting as a mother-figure to younger co-workers. There is also a site in Polish dedicated to her. It is apparent that Maria is loved in two countries; her new home and her old one.

Everyone who is old enough has a ‘where were you when 9/11 happened’ memory. I was teaching school that day. We kept the news from the students initially, but a few days after that we had a memorial. The whole school body met around the flagpole at the front to say the Pledge of Allegiance and sing a patriotic song. I had a boy in my class at that time who saw the world in a different light. He was an ‘innocent’; open-hearted, very loving, and unaware of the world at large. As my class walked to the front of the building for the memorial, I noticed he seemed worried, with his eyes wide-open looking around nervously. I took his hand so he could walk next to me. We came to a spot where we had to wait for another class to pass, but he kept on walking. I placed my hand gently in front of his chest to get him to stop…and I could feel his heart pounding furiously. In fact, his whole body started shaking. I knelt down, hugged him, and asked him what was the matter. With tears in his eyes, he expressed that he thought we were going to go out to say the pledge, and then the planes would come crash into us. His view of 9/11 consisted of seeing television footage of the planes followed by pictures of the American flag. The two went together in his mind. And it is an indelible image in the minds of those who remember. But that young student, even as fearful as he felt, was going with us because he knew he had to. And he came away strengthened, his fear abated.

I feel that Maria would have encouraged that little boy. That she would have taken his hand and said the Pledge right alongside him. She does not appear to have been someone who would have given up or lived in fear. She chose America, and worked hard to enjoy its freedoms. I ask God to bless her family and bless her memory. Maria is not forgotten. To her husband, children, and extended family and friends, I offer my condolences and prayers. In the words of her brother, Czeslaw Stylinski, “We cannot forget.”

I offer this prayer for Maria Jakubiak and all the victims of 9/11:

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon them.
May they rest in peace.

Amen.

For more fitting tributes by the people who knew her, go to this site.
Photos courtesy here and here.

From Pope Benedict XVI’s visit to Ground Zero on April 20, 2008:

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I was really going to rant and rave about a Newsweek article which proclaimed that Obama was more in touch with American Catholics than the Pope. (I don’t want to link to it and get a bunch of irrational folks with a superiority complex come down on me. They don’t even BEGIN to try to understand the real faith practices. They twist their interpretations of it to make themselves feel better. That’s fine…I’ll leave them alone…they should leave me alone. They use FAR, FAR more intolerant judgment against Catholics/other faith practices than what they perceive as being judged against them.)

Instead, I paused to calm down, and yes, say a prayer. A prayer for steadfastness. Because the author (a Kennedy) of that article wants the religion to be a political tool. Those Catholics who are in touch with Obama AREN’T in touch with their Catholicism. Oh, they may claim the Faith, but they don’t really understand it. They’re Catholics in name only, like Kennedy and Pelosi. So yes, for those so-called Catholics, Obama does have more in common with them. I try not to be an egotistical, self-serving, hypocritical turn-coat against my Faith. If you don’t like the Catholic Church’s teachings, go be Episcopal or Methodist or Hari-Krishna or worship Cthulu or the Spaghetti Monster. I certainly don’t claim to be perfect…and I don’t care what ANYONE does behind closed doors as consenting adults. Just stay out of my face and I’ll stay out of yours.

My question is, WHY are these folks so AFRAID of the Pope? Because he’s telling them what they’re doing is morally wrong? Can’t face the truth, so you want the Pope to change his truth to make you feel better about yourself?

If you don’t like what the Pope has to say…don’t listen to him. You DON’T have to be a Catholic…so why do you want the Church to change to suit your own ego? How petty and small-minded and childish. Go play somewhere else. When you evolve some tolerance come back. How illogical is it to claim to be a Catholic when you don’t really believe what it teaches? Sheesh. I pity you because you fight so hard against yourself.

So love it or leave it. And then live that choice happily. It’s really not that hard.

Last week I wrote a post about VBS and one ADHD kid in particular who was, shall we say, very challenging.

Well today I was renewing a tag down at the court house and that kid (we’ll call him ‘Elijah’) came in with his mom and little sister. I was sitting in the middle row of the waiting area, and mom headed to the back row. I called Elijah’s name and waved, and next thing I know I have him on one side of me and and his little sister on the other. Elijah told EVERYONE that I’m his teacher while leaning his head against my side, legs swinging non-stop. (And yes, he still had on a dirty shirt, but he himself seemed clean.) Then he spoke non-stop (smacking his gum all the while) about the fun he’s having this summer. Elijah also asked about when VBS was going to start again…he looked dismayed when I told him not until next summer.

Mom also talked to me (which she NEVER did while at VBS). She spoke about going to a local community college and how it seemed so slow and her mother was telling her it was a waste of time. I looked her in the eye and told her no matter how long it took, it WAS worth it.

Then my number was called…I gave Elijah a hug and told him I was happy to have seen him. Last I saw of him he was skipping off to drink from the water fountain.

Families face so many challenges these days…the economic situation doesn’t help. I hope Elijah’s mom does finish her education and Elijah’s energy for life doesn’t keep others from seeing his potential. Bless them all.

…is renewing your pistol permit. While wearing your Vacation Bible School t-shirt.

VBS is over, finally. Each year, the kids sing at Mass on the Sunday after VBS, so I went to Church this morning instead of my usual Saturday evening. At the sign of peace I was turning to greet a friend. Across the aisle was a little boy who had been in my class. He recognized me when I turned and he immediately gasped. He started tugging on his Mom’s shirt, saying, “MOM! MOM! It’s my teacher! It’s my teacher!” and began waving furiously. I grinned and waved back at him.

Being part of a kid’s joy like that…priceless. It makes all the other headaches so worth it.

I’ve been teaching VBS this week. I won’t go into many details, but suffice it to say, I should be earning lots of credits to get out of Purgatory earlier than expected.

The first night ended with a kid throwing up. The second night we had a lost tooth and a nosebleed. I also have a little girl whose mother thinks the $10 she paid at VBS registration means she won’t be there until EXACTLY at 8:30 or later to pick up her daughter. Apparently that $10 means she’s entitled to every second of the three hours EACH night we have the kids, in which we give them a t-shirt and a dinner and crafts and Bible lessons. We finished 10 minutes early one night and everyone else was gone within 5 minutes. I let the little girl use my cell phone to call her mom and I could plainly hear the mother say, “But I have five more minutes before I have to pick you up!!!” The little girl was saying everyone else had left, but the mother refused to give up the last five minutes. In fact, the mother won’t even be there at 8:30 any night. She waits to hear from her 7 year old daughter before she’ll even move her butt to come get her. I have to remind myself that it’s a Christian activity and I must act with charity or else I’ll negate my Purgatory credits.

The third night we had an ADHDx100 kid sticking his finger in the fabric-paint on kids’ artwork…smearing the said work. This kid is wearing me out. I have to have him at my side every second or trouble like that above occurs. As one of the other volunteers said, “You didn’t come here expecting to be his personal attendant, did you?” *sigh* The director of VBS even called to thank me for working with him…I think she’s afraid I won’t come back next year.

It’s obvious this kid comes from a troubled home situation. He’s told me that mama has told him to lie to daddy about where they spent the night. He’s been wearing the same unwashed shirt for three nights, and this kid doesn’t know how to eat neatly. His shirt is the only napkin he uses, despite my best efforts. He definitely doesn’t know how to behave in Church when we go in there, and demands a ‘prize’ of some sort every night to take home. If he doesn’t get his way, he collapses in a heap, claiming a stomach ache. But when we do the activities in the booklets, he is focused and works well, if a little bit loudly.

This is a lost kid. He has so much potential that is mired in an apparent home life of no structure. I hate having to be so firm with him, but if I don’t, he takes away from the rest of the kids. I’m just grateful we have the volunteers to help with the rest.

And tonight…should be interesting. We have a ‘camping’ theme for VBS this year, so in keeping with that theme, we will be making smores. I’m thinking…long metal rods or pointed sticks…fire…flaming marshmallows…with this active, active kid, we’ll all need firemen’s gear. I think God knew what was coming and sent us a bunch of rain last night…trying to soak the ground to keep the flames from spreading. The irony of the situation is that mine was the deciding vote on whether or not to do smores. I voted ‘yes’ because kids these days are often limited in experiences beyond electronics. I think it just proves God has a sense of humor.

So if you hear on the news late tonight of a humongous wildfire in the South…you’ll know how it started.

Happy Father’s Day to all you dads out there! And to some of you who are childless fathers, too.