Praying the Blues

Lord, I'm feeling kind of blue...

A couple of days ago, I got annoyed after reading like the tenth complaint on a friend's timeline about how us whiny liberals need to suck it up and move on. (You know, Lord, how I hate self-righteousness, being as how I'm rarely right myself.) Well, in trying to be clever--you know how I do--I posted a status about how I wasn't unfriending people because their words offended me, or because I thought they didn't have a right to say them. Rather, I was unfriending them because they were pissing me off.

On the heels of that, I unfriended the guy. Although I've long admired him for his wit and intelligence, his arrogance was now all I could see.

Feeling powerful, a few minutes later, when I saw yet another post criticizing Obama, another one got the axe. I was rollin', Lord!

Later still, in response to a video I had posted, a friend described liberals as "snarky, self-absorbed, dishonest, hypocritical and utterly intolerant." Pissed me off. Fired him, too.

But here's the thing, Lord...

Fueled by the few "likes" I'd received for posting "Buh-bye" after the guy's hate-filled post, I realized that, since I'd unfriended him, he wouldn't be able to see my clever farewell. Now, you know what a dick I can be, Lord...I switched my privacy settings on that post to "public." Sure enough, he saw it. First he said he was crushed. Then we got to arguing. He tried to say his comments hadn't been personal, but who did he think was reading them? Well, anyway, we argued back and forth a bit. He self-righteously pointed out that I was being immature and that he wasn't.

Now, as you know, I didn't sleep well last night. Shall we say the Holy Spirit convicted me? Wasn't I being just as self-righteous as the people I'd been striking from my friends list? I know I have the right to choose my friends, but was my changing the privacy setting on that one post maybe just a little mean and petty? (Remember how I tried to rationalize it by saying, But I want it "public" so more people can see the video? I knew you wouldn't buy that, Lord.)

Suddenly I remembered why we'd become friends in the first place. I woke up this morning thinking I might have to write him a note asking his forgiveness.

Then I logged on and saw another snarky attack he'd made on someone else I like. Our unfriendship shall stand.

Guess I'm still a work in progress, Lord. But damn, I really don't feel very good about this. Just sayin'.

Amen.

Our Father...

Our father,

Hi, God.

Who art in Heaven.

Although we can't see you, we know you're there.

Hallowed be thy name.

We know who you are, and that your name means something--it's holy!

Thy kingdom come,

We want to live in your kingdom

Thy will be done

and do all the stuff you want us to do

On earth as it is in Heaven.

so this place can be the way you wanted it to be.

Give us this day

Today we're asking for something--

Our daily bread,

The food we need, but not just food. We need generous hearts, kind words and good thoughts, too.

And forgive us our trespasses

Please forget about all the stupid stuff we've done, like not paying attention to you except for when we're feeling really down and out and don't know where else to turn--like now,

As we forgive those who trespass against us.

And we'll forget about all the stupid stuff other people have done to us. Bygones.

And lead us not into temptation,

And please help us not to do even more stupid stuff, like saying nasty things to people who disagree with us, politically and otherwise.

But deliver us from evil.

And please just keep Donald Trump the hell away from the White House!

Amen.

Amen.

It's Hard to be Humble

Note: The views expressed in this post are mine, and mine alone. You should not expect anything else.

Facebook is not for the modest or the humble. Facebook is a forum for exhibitionists.

If you post it on Facebook, it's because you want people to know about it. What you're wearing, what you're eating, what you're thinking. Your religion, your politics, your disdain for humanity. Photos of your family, your vacations, your messy house, your feet.

If an exhibitionist is a person with a compulsive need to be noticed, then add my name to the list. That's the group I belong in. And this probably won't surprise you, either: I have reinvented myself for Facebook. If that is how you know me, then you don't really know me. The truth is, I am not always happy and friendly and funny. And I do not always present only the left side of my face, chin up, smiling, because I happen to think that is how I look most attractive.

I've been Facebooking for about six years, and blogging for seven. Why do I feel this need to come clean today? Well, it all started off innocently enough...

As I was taking my shower this morning, I was thinking about the horrific events of this day 14 years ago: September 11, 2001. In just a few hours, our lives were changed forever. As I was reflecting, I realized that I was repeating a prayer over and over in my mind. So, still wrapped in a towel, I posted my status on Facebook:

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Then I continued to get ready. And I continued to think...

Religion is not a big part of my Facebook persona, yet today, I posted that prayer because it was what was in my heart. But Jesus said that when we pray, we should do so privately. If I'm being honest, I liked letting people know that I prayed today. I imagined that some would approve, and others would scoff, but I wanted them to know. Somehow, that feels wrong.

But I'm still an exhibitionist. That part of me is real. I just felt like you should know.

Newtown, Connecticut

The tragic shootings -- 20 children and 6 adults -- in Newtown Connecticut, are no longer front page news, at least not in my neck of the woods. Still plenty of editorials and letters to the editor about gun laws and gun rights, but those who died have been laid to rest, and those who love them must try to go on.

And I can't stop thinking about them.

A friend whom I respect and admire admonished us on facebook not to make this tragedy about ourselves. She said our children were safe, and no one was going to try to take away our guns; that yes, this incident was sad, but it was not about us.

I don't agree with her. I can't think of another way of processing this horror without making it about me -- without putting myself in the place of the mother (or grandmother) of one of those children. I have to put myself in the place of one of those frightened children who, seconds before his own death, saw his friends and playmates being brutally executed. To make it about me is to at least try to feel it.

I don't understand why I want -- or need -- to feel it. I just know that I do.

I don't know anyone from Newtown, Connecticut, and probably never will.

But I have a daughter who just celebrated her 35th birthday -- whose birth I can remember as if it were last week. I remember holding her in my arms, and feeling sure that I held the entire world. And I did. My world. That day, I knew that to lose a child would be to lose everything. I don't know that I'd be able to move forward, as I've been praying for those parents in Newtown to be able to do.

A couple of days ago we celebrated Christmas. We really celebrated, with food and presents and time together. One day just before Christmas, I sat in my living room, looking at the lighted tree, and I felt happy and peaceful. The Spirit of the Season, I would say. But then I felt like it was wrong to feel that way. I tried to imagine what the families in Newtown were feeling, but I know I never even got close.

If there's anything I can do, besides pray, I hope it comes to me. I don't mean to denegate the power of prayer, because I know that there are times when prayer is the only thing that can help. I know that this is one of those times. But right now, my prayers feel so small, and my contentment seems so selfish.

I have no answers or solutions. I'm just feeling things that are hard to feel. And I'm so sorry.

Some Revelry and a Revelation (Alternate Title: My Left Foot)

I have taken many things for granted in my lifetime. There are a few things about which this is no longer true. These are gifts, and I am reveling in them...

The feel of the floor against my bare feet -- especially the left one;

A hot bubble bath;

Rubbing lotion into the dry, papery skin on my left leg;

Flexing and bending my ankles. (And being able to trace the letters of the alphabet with my left foot, per the doctor's orders, even though I can't read what I "wrote"...I must be right-footed!)


Now for the revelation part:


God, as they say, works in mysterious ways. We are not meant to understand His ways, and I'm sure that I don't need to understand. But yesterday, I think I was given just a glimpse into His workings...

After just two weeks and two days, I have been unburdened of the Big Blue Cast that encased (and encumbered) my left leg. This unburdening came about, I feel, because of a misreading of my file. I had been told that that cast and I would be constant companions for at least four weeks, with the need to check it in three weeks, due to the fact that I have been taking prednisone. (Prednisone affects bones, can cause osteoporosis, and interfere with healing of broken bones.)

But after just one week, I became worried that the burning sensation I was feeling might mean that something was not healing properly. When I called, I was told that my cast might be too loose. I had to admit that it was comfortably roomy, so the Physician's Assistant who'd returned my call told me to come in the following day to have it replaced.

I imagine that he then made a note in my file for that day which said,"Remove cast."

That was last Friday. I went in as directed, and my original cast was replaced with a tighter-fitting one. Less comfortable on my leg, but the burning sensation did stop.

The three-week appointment I had for my re-check was one week later -- yesterday. (It wasn't a full three weeks, but that's what I was given.) The day my cast was replaced, I was told that no x-ray would be taken until the following week. Yesterday.

My Awesome Husband Greg went with me for that appointment...

Cast Maker Guy called me back and ordered me up on the table so he could remove the cast. Surprised, I said, "Oh, you're removing the cast before you do an x-ray?" He checked the file in his hands and said, "Oh, we're not doing an x-ray today. It says 'remove cast.' MAHG and I looked at each other. I said "Great!" (And Awesome Greg went out to the car to retrieve in the Big Clunky Stabilizing Boot I'd been issued the night of the break. Feeling confident as I was that my healing was proceeding remarkably well, I had insisted on bringing it with us.)

MAHG watched with ghoulish interest while CMG cut my BBC off with a gigantic circular saw. (Not really -- I just wanted to say that.)

The cast off, CMG then left the room for a minute. And here's what I imagine happened:

He glanced at my file again, and realized that he had been looking at the note that the P.A. had made the prior week after my phone call -- the one that said "Remove cast." It would probably have been on top of the page that said "Re-check in three weeks." Upon reading further, he realized that he was supposed to take an x-ray. That's why he came back into our room and said, "Okay -- I guess we will take a picture now."

The x-ray showed that healing was well under way, if not complete. Things looked great, according to the Doctor who finally came in. The mystery of the how to properly work the Big Clunky Stabilizing Boot was explained to me, and I was told I no longer needed crutches -- Not even one of them!

I think I was supposed to have an x-ray and remain in the BBC for another week. I give credit for the fact that I'm free to God, who never give us anything we can't handle. He could see, of course, that I wasn't handling the Big Blue Cast very well...That, in fact, I was sick and tired of it. So he intervened.

God also gets credit for leading me (through my Amazing Sister Melissa) to some wonderful homeopathic remedies, which I am positive speeded my healing, making that extra week unneceessary. And I love that fun little thing He did, having Cast Maker Guy read my file wrong, demonstrating that even mistakes can be the work of God sometimes!

I am thrilled with -- and grateful for -- the outcome. I'm to go back in two more weeks, at which time I am sure I will be completely released from the need for even the BCSB.

Meanwhile, I will continue to revel in simple pleasures that I once took for granted...and in the way that God answers our prayers!

You Know What I Love? (A Morning Prayer)...

"Rhododendron from a Bathroom Window," May 2009 (Kate's LRDC)

...The dreams I have when I wake up extra early, drink a couple cups of coffee as I read in the chair by the window, then close my eyes and fall back asleep.

...That kind of sleep when I'm really just awake enough to know that I'm sleeping, and it feels sooooooo good.

...The feeling of an entire day spread out before me, when it seems that anything is possible, and that it will all be good.

...Being the first one in the house to wake up -- like I'm the one who's responsible for everyone else, and I am fully equipped to handle that job!

...Knowing that no matter how messy and cluttered it is, this house is Home.

...Realizing that later on, when it all begins to feel like Too Much, there really is someone else who's in charge.

...Knowing who to thank for all the things that are beautiful, in spite of all the things that are not. (Amen.)

A Prayer to Share

My mind has been awhirl with things I want to blog about. Then I happened across this prayer. Therese Bouchard was being interviewed for a radio program, and was asked if she she had to come up with one prayer for today (meaning, I think, These Days), what it would be. Here's what she said:

God, please help me to keep you in charge today and not to ask so many why's.

It touched a chord in me, and I just felt like sharing it with you.

Now say your prayers and have a nice day!

No Year's Resolutions

Photo of house lit up for Christmas taken by Tom Karlek on an early-morning walk in the snow. (Date unknown.)

1. This year there will be No Year's Resolution about getting and/or staying "organized" -- whatever that term means to you. (To me, it means having a place for everything, having everything in its place -- and being able to remember where that place is!) I've made that resolution. In fact, I've made it every single year since I've known that people make New Year's resolutions. I have found that it only works for about an hour and a half every morning. (It depends on what time I take my ADD medication.)

My passion for organizing can only last until I find something else to focus on. You know -- like while I'm trying to get all the tax stuff together in one file, I might come across some photographs I've saved so I can make clever greetings cards from them. So then I have to search for my stash of stickers and card stock. In the process, of course, I find dozens -- perhaps even millions -- of nifty little craft items shoved into a cupboard, just waiting for the perfect occasion unleash my creative genius -- hey, why not now.....?!!!

*

2. There will also be No Year's Resolution in 2009 about trying to do only one thing at a time. I keep reading about how multi-tasking -- which is the one skill I have come closest to perfecting -- is not necessarily a desirable skill to have. Hence, the nagging sense that perhaps I should try to focus a bit more on doing only one thing at a time. But wait! How do they know? What if doing just one thing at a time -- even something one truly enjoys -- can cause one to be so overcome by languor that one just shuts down and decides to take a nap? How desirable is that?

I say that for some of us, multi-tasking is a necessary survival skill -- one we should work harder at mastering! There is no limit, people! I've seen glimpses of a paradise where one can write a novel, knit a sweater, create a fabulous outfit from recycled denim and old sweaters -- and load the dishwasher -- all at the same time!

*

3. 2009 will see No Year's Resolution about becoming a better listener -- even though that was practically my mother's dying wish for me. Hey -- it's not carved in stone that that was her last wish, ok? She told me "You should listen the first time," almost an entire week before she died. I prefer to think that her final -- albeit unspoken -- wish for me was that I should find it in my heart to do nice things for people because I truly care; that I would learn to trust my instincts about what to do, because even if I did listen to what they were saying, I would probably forget within the hour anyway.

*

4. There will be No Year's Resolution this year about not yelling at my family so much. Because I DON'T yell at them that much -- They just say that I do! That's because we're all so used to pushing each other's buttons, and then reacting to the response we expect to get, that we no longer even pay attention to what's really happening...

For example: My son has done something he knows is dumb -- like telling me over the phone that, yes, he did bring in the the mail, knowing full well that he hasn't -- and then forgetting to go out and get it immediately after hanging up the phone. A couple of hours later, when, upon returning home from a weekend trip, I go out to the mailbox and find said mail, he no sooner sees that my mouth is open -- before even the faintest sound has been emitted -- and he says "Stop yelling at me!" So then, of course, I have to yell at him, resolutions be damned!

*

5. Finally, there shall be No Year's Resolution this year about setting and meeting goals for healthy living, productivity, and/or prosperity. I found out this past year that -- especially with regard to health -- I'm really not in charge anyway. So why not just trust everything to the One who is in charge? That way, I may be able to keep a resolution not to worry so much. Trust, when it can be accomplished, feels so much better than worry!

*

So here's to trusting 2009 to God, and asking Him to constantly show me which way He wants me to turn -- which path to take, what words to say, what I should do -- always! (Amen.)

Oh -- Happy New Year, Bloggees!

My Christmas Blog -- If Today is Your Birthday...

Mary and Jesus from my father's old Nativity set (by Greg, 2008)

...If today is Your birthday, that means it's Christmas!

*

...If today is Your birthday, it's late and I'm tired because I've spent the entire day being busy -- celebrating, You know. But I couldn't go to bed without saying thank You!

*

...If today is Your birthday, You know that my words can never express what's really in my heart. And I know that I don't even need words. You -- and You alone -- just know!

*

...If today is Your birthday, You are the reason for everything, whether I am mindful of that or not. (Sometimes I am, but often I an not. For that, I am sorry.)

*

...If today is Your birthday, You are always waiting patiently for me to recognize the reality that is You -- and glad when I finally get around to asking for Your help in doing so.

*

...If today is Your birthday, I love You, and I am sorry that I don't do more to show You how much. I know You know. But I know you would like for more people to know.

*

...If today is Your birthday, thank You. For Christmas, and for everything.

*

Happy Birthday, Jesus. We don't deserve You, yet You are ours...

*

...Amen.

I Found It!

Figures from a Nativity set which I believe has been in my dad's family since he was a child. (Photographed by Greg 12/20/08)

I had it, but then I lost some of the peaces. Well, maybe I never really had all of the peaces, but this Advent season I think I've had more of them than I ever have in the past...

For one, this year I had the peace of solitude -- at least a little bit every day. It's hard to find that peace when you have a house full of pre-schoolers. As many gifts as they bring, they seldom come bearing peace!

This year I also had the peace of reflection, which I think you can only have if you have the peace of solitude first. I was grateful for both peaces. And I was able to experience, for at least a short time, the peace of knowing where that elusive -- but, oh, so important -- quiet place is located inside of me.

Yes, I really liked having all of those peaces for a while. But then I started to lose them...

The first peace I lost was peace of mind. It was replaced by a bunch of hungry monkeys in a banana tree. (That's more or less a quote from Henri Nouwen.) Then I lost the peace of knowing that everything would be done -- at least the things that God wanted done -- if I would just stay calm and let Him guide me. Instead, I had a gnawing sense of anxiousness that Christmas would be here, and I'd be there, still searching for one more gift.

The peace of joy that comes with giving to others was overshadowed by worries about what we would live on after Christmas. (And we all know that worry alone can obscure a lot of peaces!) One by one, my peaces were being misplaced and re-placed by things that I didn't want to claim!

Then, this morning, I found a peace of time to go to Mass. Guess what...As soon as I entered the church and saw the altar being decorated for the Christmas Eve services tomorrow, I felt all of those peaces return!

It was wonderful...The first peace I found was the peace of being a part of something much larger than myself. After that, all of the other peaces just sort of magically appeared, exactly where they were supposed to be. And I've managed to hold on to them all day, even though I sometimes had to fight to do so!

Ok. Of course I realize I couldn't have held onto them all by myself -- God did that for me! But I think that's the best peace of all -- the peace of letting God. The peace of remembering..."Be still and know that I am."

Thank you, God, for helping me to find the peaces again. Please continue to help me hold on!

His Name was Juan...

Bradford Pear Tree felled by Ice, Winter 2003, by Greg Fischer



...Juan Estevan Salado. 25 years old. From Charlotte, North Carolina.

*

He had a 6-year old son, and a sister who lives in Florida. And a mother who is still alive, I think. He lost his father when he was young.

*

Yesterday was my nephew, Kristofer's, birthday -- his 25th birthday. The same age as Juan Salado.

*

I can't imagine what was inside the mind and heart of the shooter who got away. I can only picture Ice.

*

Even though witnesses saw him run out the back service entrance of the store and get into a dark-colored car that was parked at a nearby bank, no one saw which direction that car took as he drove off. Everyone who was outside was focused on the 25-year-old victim with a gunshot wound to his head. (In retrospect, I'm sure there are a few people who wish they'd taken time to note the license plate number of that dark-colored vehicle.)

*

One report mentioned a second guard in the Brinks truck. Did he have any training or instruction in what to do in case something like this ever happened? Surely something like this was never supposed to happen...His partner was 25 years old. He had a six-year-old son. It was the week before Christmas.

*

Most likely, he was in shock. Frozen. Unable to do anything.

*

I wonder if he had a gun. If he did, did he think of using it? I'm sure there was no time -- to think, or to shoot. (Then he, too, might have become a murderer in the week before Christmas.)

*

I wonder where the shooter is hiding. It was reported that he got some Brinks bags -- maybe two or three -- presumably with money in them. Probably a lot of money to someone who doesn't have any -- someone who needs it so badly, he's willing to kill someone else to get it. Will he be able to spend it? On what? Did he need it for food, or to buy gifts for his family? Drugs? What?

*

He shot a man twice in the head, without warning. At 10:00 in the morning. In a nice neighborhood shopping center. My mind won't even let me try to imagine what is inside him. (Besides Ice, that is.) Where is he? Did he get far, or is he hiding somewhere nearby?

*

As of 6:00 tonight (Wednesday), he remains un-captured. Oh -- the police say he should be considered armed and dangerous. (Thank you.)

*

I'm only speculating, of course, but even though he appears (for now) to have gotten away with a crime that was horribly bold, I don't feel like he was some kind of a mastermind genius criminal. I can't help but wonder if he's ever done anything like this before. Was this the first time he'd shot someone? Was he just a guy who had become a victim of desperate circumstances? Had he recently lost a job -- or just been unsuccessful in finding one? Did he simply let go of the last thread that was holding him to reality?

*

And I wonder if he's sorry. Is he really made of Ice?

*

I can't imagine. And I can only try to imagine what it's like to be Juan Salado's sister. Or his mother. Maybe his aunt.

*

The only other thing I can think of is to pray...

"The Name of the Victim Has Not Been Released..."

Something awful has happened. It's really too soon for me to write about it, because I have so few details. But I haven't been able to think about anything else all day...



This morning started off on a positive note -- for me anyway. I was scheduled to work, and I arrived just enough minutes early to allow me to stash my bag and be at my assigned register when the store opened. Not too many customers yet; it was nice to have a chance to talk with my fellow booksellers -- one of whom I had not even met. Things began to pick up gradually then, which meant nice customers to chat with, too. I had begun to feel gratitude, once again, that I had found this job in an environment which suited me so well.



However, not even an hour had gone by when things started to change. I didn't realize how much they had changed until I walked outside after my shift ended at 1:00.



We heard -- not a siren -- but rather, the blare of the horn that an emergency vehicle uses when it approaches a busy intersection. This one was warning customers just leaving the store not to step out into the parking lot -- yet. From the windows behind the row of cash registers, we could tell only that the vehicle had slowed, and then stopped somewhere just beyond our store.



It would be another half-hour or so before customers started trickling in with bits of information -- and lots of questions. Before I left, I was able to piece together that the armored truck driver making a pick-up at the Old Navy Store three or four doors down had been shot. I heard that the suspect had gotten some money, and was still on the loose. More and more customers -- all of whom seemed remarkably calm -- were commenting on the buzz of activity at the shopping center. Apparently there were police cars and camera crews everywhere, and at least part of the shopping center had been closed off -- our part.



As pieces of the story started coming together, it didn't even register in my psyche. That's good. Somehow, the information that a man with a gun had walked into a nearby store and shot another person was able to remain on the "outside." I would not have been able to deal with it-- and continue to work -- if I had let it in.



But now I am home. The television news is carrying the story. Apparently at least three eye witnesses say that the robber was in the store -- either circulating, or hiding in a dressing room -- before the Brinks truck arrived. He was wearing surgical scrubs and a red wig. He did not give the Brinks man a chance to "give up" the money; he just came at him, shooting, as he was leaving the store. The driver was shot three times in the head. A customer who had just come out of the drugstore next door said he was able to say a prayer at the man's feet before the ambulance took him away. The news reports say that he was in critical condition, and that he died later.



They said "The name of the victim has not been released, so that his family may be notified of their loss." (I just knew it would be someone who had a family -- maybe even young children.)



Please join me in praying for that man's family.



That's all I have today. (Not even a picture with this one -- except the one in my mind.)

Advent Reading -- Another Guest Blog

Three Little Girls with Bangs (Karen, Kate, Bev), 1959 by Rosemary Karlek

(Bangs also by Rosemary Karlek.)

From Watch for the Light/Readings for Advent and Christmas, "To Believe," by Karl Barth:

There are so many gates and doors that must finally be lifted high and opened wide, and there are still many prisoners who must finally be set free. For truly we are among the prisoners, and among the gates that should be opeped, I include our closed ears and lips. Our lips! Because we are actually quite similar to poor Zechariah (Luke 1:11-22). After all, something burns in our hearts that would gladly come out...

That's what I was talking about in yesterday's post!

Something often flames up in our soul that we would like to call out to all people -- a question, a complaint, a word of defiance, a rejoicing, a stark truth -- something of the sort that a person simply cannot keep to himself, once it is there...

Like the blossoms that cannot be contained in one heart, but must take root and spread on contact!

It saddens us to be so alone, to be unable to share with anyone what moves us. It also saddens us to see other people coming and going, all in their own way, all in so much error and dullness when we have something to tell them that would help them. For we sense that their concern is at root our own concern. Above all it saddens us that we are so cut off from each other, that there are always such different worlds -- you in your house and me in my house, you with your thoughts and me with mine. This is simply not the way life is meant to be, this separate life we all lead...

That's exactly what I was trying to say -- I think!

But with one single change we could have infinitely more joy and good fortune and righteousness among us, if we could open our hearts and talk with each other...

Amen!

And then we experience the fact that we are mute. Yes, we certainly talk with each other, we find words all right, but never the right words; never the words that would really do justice to what actually moves us, what actually lives in us; never the words that would really lead us out of our loneliness into community. Our talk is always such an imperfect, wooden, dead talk. Fire will not break out in it, but can only smolder in our words.

Ah -- so often I have complained about my words being inadequate conveyors of what is really inside of me. I can only trust God to be the translator...

***

Note: I do not mean to be presumptuous by placing myself in the company of Karl Barth (Swiss theologian, 1886-1968), but when I read his essay this morning -- so soon after having posted my "family" blog last night --I felt that perhaps it was God suggesting that I allow him to blog for me this morning!

For Families...

I

wish

-- always,

but mostly at

Christmas -- which

is, after all, the season

of Peace and Love...the season

when somehow, in spite of the over-

whelming distractions of commercialism, if

we can find a small, quiet niche somewhere deep

within ourselves, we will feel (often in spite of

ourselves) a quickening...something small stirring,

growing, waiting to be brought forth... It is during

this season especially that I wish there were some

magical eraser that could take away all memories of hurt,

done both to us and by us, thereby making room for that

small seed to blossom; to burst from its tiny, dark

womb and to fill an entire heart with its beauty. See how

light actually emanates from its blossoms! If it is

allowed to bloom, it cannot be contained in one heart;

rather, it spreads, taking root wherever it makes

contact with another heart. Always -- but especially at

Christmas -- I wish...I pray...that we could find room

in our hearts for that small, fragile seed to grow.

For not to do so is to allow all of the beauty

that is in

us to be

strangled

by weeds.

"Hands, Touching Hands..."

Let me begin by giving credit where credit is due...The title of this post is from Neal Diamond's "Sweet Caroline," and the pictures are actually a scrapbook page put together by my awesomely talented sister, Karen...

For several months now I have been attending weekday Masses at our church whenever I can. I have discovered that this is a most pleasant way to begin my day. Mostly, I see the same small group of people there, and I know most of them by name. Daily Masses are said in the small chapel rather than in the sanctuary, so 25-30 people is a full house. There are usually about 15 people there. There is no music or singing, and everything moves along quickly. In fact, the entire Mass takes about 20 minutes. Afterwards, there are anywhere from five to ten regulars who stay and pray the Rosary together. If I'm there, I stay. I have come to look forward to this part of my routine simply because it is such a pleasure.

But I began going because of my dad. He and Betty attended daily Mass...well, daily. Betty recently told me that they also stayed for the Rosary unless they had appointments. I know that whenever Dad visited us, he liked to attend a weekday Mass. Sometimes I would go with him if I didn't have kids to watch that day. It was nice. I especially liked it when we would pray the "Our Father," and everyone would hold hands. It felt really good to hold Dad's hand. (Ahhhh, now you're starting to see the connection, right?)

The other day I got to Mass just in time to slip into an empty chair in the front row before Father came in. Not my favorite place to sit. I prefer anywhere but the front row, because the chapel is so small that the first row of seats feels like it's right up there with Father. I was late and the chapel was full, however, so I took what I could get. There were a couple of seats between me and the man who had been there when I came in. I recognized him, but do not know his name. He's older than I am, but not as old as my Dad. (He is not old enough to be in my "little old man" category, but he has a very kind face, so I like him.)

During the Lord's Prayer, he took my hand, and I immediately had a sense of my dad. I often feel Dad's presence when I'm at Mass, because that was such a natural part of who he was. (I dream about my mom, and I see Dad in church.) But this was different. I actually felt like it was my dad standing beside me holding my hand. I was overcome with emotion, and I could no longer say the words of the prayer. It was a moment I'd like to hold onto. So I just wrote about it. Thank you.

My Thanksgiving Blog

Greg, summer 2008, Lake Shannon (by Karen Branson)

God, our Heavenly Father, this day after Thanksgiving, the blessings in my life for which I am most grateful include, but are not limited to, the people in these photographs...

First, Father, I give you thanks for my wonderful husband (and featured photographer), Greg.

Then I thank you for my brother, Mark, his wife, Kris and their wonderful family; I thank them for sharing their bounty with us. I thank you, also, that Gina, Taylor and Jordyn were able to share the day with us. (As Taylor once said in all her youthful wisdom, "We are family because we're used to each other.")

Of course, Father, I am eternally grateful for all of the other members of our family -- the ones not pictured here -- and for all of our friends. Thank you, also, for the indescribable beauty which you have created for us on this earth. And thank you, Father, for the great and merciful love you have for all of us.

Now, the day in pictures, in no particular order. Oh, what the hell -- there's no order here whatsoever. Here are the pictures...

(Top) Cousins: Beth, Kristofer, Tori, Dj, Meagan. (Center) Kristofer, Tori, Dj.

(Below, left) Mark with Taylor and Jordyn. (Right) Jordyn.

(Above left) Tori, Beth and Jerry

(Right) Gina with Jordyn

(Below) Dj and Kristofer)

(Below left) Dj with Taylor. (Right) Kris and Joe

(Below) Kate and Mark

All photographs by Greg Fischer, Mocksville, NC, 11/28/08.

Blogging in the Chapel

"INRI" by Kate, 11/28/08 (MSN Paint)

I never realized it...

I never really imagined;

It necessitates real introspection.

I need religious inspiration.

I nervously recoil inside;

imagine never receiving it.

In nightly reflections, I

imagine nails ripping into

Innocence. Nothing remains irreconcilable.

Indeed, none remain insensate.

Ignonimous, necessary ransom. Impressive.

I never realized it...

I never really imagined.

Halloween -- The Church Party

(Jordyn Gottlieb as "Sharpay" from High School Musical, 10/25/08)


To begin with, a thought that came to me last night as I was trying to fall asleep:

Whenever your "best laid" plans get all messed up and your day ends up looking nothing like the one you had envisioned, try thinking of yourself, perhaps, as the answer to someone else's prayer.

Taking my precious Jordyn (my imaginary grandchild) to the childrens' Halloween party at our church last night was, indeed, part of my Saturday "agenda." The rest of the list looked something like this: Clean bathrooms, dust and vacuum main floor rooms, do two loads of laundry, organize desk, iron...

The only thing checked off of that list is Take Jordyn to Halloween Party. The revised list reads: Have Jordyn dropped off mid-afternoon (Mom flying out of town unexpectedly; have Jordyn spend the night after party; drop Jordyn off at friend's house after church tomorrow. (Each one of those entries now has a tick in the "done" box.)

As usual, when asked to do a favor for someone (in this case, Jordyn's mom), I said yes -- but not without inwardly griping, "Oh great -- now I won't be able to get anything done!" Hello -- We're talking about housework! We're talking about replacing housework with my favorite little girl in the whole world -- my secret "inner child!" What was I thinking?!!

Just look at this face:

(The "real" Jordyn, Lake Shannon, August 2008, by Karen Branson)

Whose plan would you rather follow? Yeah, me, too. Thank you, Gina, for asking me to help out. Thank you, God, for using me.

Oh -- there was one other item on both lists -- Get together with Dawn (Greg's sister) and Mik for dinner and cards (or something.) That one also got checked off. Plus, Dawn got her chance to be Sharpay...

(Dawn as "Sharpay," 10/25/08, by Greg Fischer)

Afterword: All of my Jordyn-Time this weekend was nothing short of delightful, and reminded me of how blessed we are to have her as part of our lives! She was on her very best behavior, no matter what we were doing. She made me proud and happy everywhere we went, right up through Mass this morning. And twice, when people thought (or pretended to think) I was her mom, well, I just counted that as part of my reward. (Oh -- a big thanks to you very nice folks, too!)

After-afterword: Of course we consider Dawn a really special blessing, too!

Might as Well...Can't Dance!

(Kate's Dancing Feet by Greg Fischer, 9/08)

Or:

"Falling in Love with Reality"
(taken from my Horoscope, 10/22/08)


Yesterday morning I shut the door on my life as a busy (as in always-jumping-around-flitting-from-one-activity-to-another busy; not as in accomplishes-a-lot-is-very-productive busy), active person who thrives on motion as a motivator. As that door closed, I opened the one marked, "Life as an Inactive Slug Who Must Now Live Cautiously." (I sighed deeply as I did so.)

Then I happened across my horoscope in the Greensboro News & Record...

"It's pointless and stressful to argue with what is. Acceptance of what you can't change will set you free. And if you take it one step further and really fall in love with reality, you'll be downright happy."

I'm not making that up! That really was my horoscope yesterday! And so, in an effort to "really fall in love with my reality" (for who doesn't want to be "downright happy?") I've come up with some little reminders for myself...

(1) I may not be able to clog, but I can still wear my clogging shoes, and tap my feet very loudly.

(2) I may not be able to get out and enjoy a brisk walk on a beautiful fall day (How ironic that this new reality of mine should begin during my most favorite season of all. Sigh), but I can still sit outside and watch my husband rake leaves into big piles and haul them to the street. (Honey, you know I'd love to help you, but remember what the doctor said...)

(3) I may not be able to distract myself from the mundane activities of housekeeping by breaking up periods of work with periods of dancing, but I can still put such "mundanity" off for hours on end as I sit here typing my blog. (Bonus: I may even be able to elevate blogging to an aerobic level if I put my mind to it!)

(4) I may no longer be able to maintain my "leg strength" by using a kitchen chair (height:18 inches) as a step during the most vigorous of my Firm excercise videos (I never did invest in one of those 14-inch boxes they keep talking about), but that in itself is a reality I shall happily embrace -- I hate that exercise!

(5) I may be required to take a drug, the very name of which strikes fear into my heart for some reason; but here it is, only my second day, and I feel better already!

(6) I was only able to think of five things which I am being forced to give up (and I really had to stretch to come up with some of those); yet I still have an entire paragraph of things things that give me pleasure (and which perhaps I will now have more time to pursue)! A partial list would include reading, playing my guitar, just sitting and feeling grateful (for everything), drawing, painting, sewing, crocheting, knitting...Not to mention all of those other crafts for which I have laid in a large stock of provisions (beading, scrapbooking...), but for one reason or another, have yet to attempt!

You know, perhaps my new reality won't be so difficult to love after all.

Attitude adjustment complete. (Thank you, God.)

My Indonesian

"Jesus Praying in the Garden"
Tapestry by Ignatius's aunt
(Indonesia, 2008)

Ignatius Budi Sriyono
at work, Batam, 2000

I have an Indonesian. If you don't have one, I highly recommend getting one...

Seriously. Ignatius is my "Indonesian Son," as he sometimes signs his messages to me. (He calls me "Mama Kate.") Occasionally he simply signs, "Your Indonesian," which makes me smile -- His messages often make me smile.

Today he wrote about praying...

"Jesus teach how to pray, and one of them, give us each day the food we need. I mean, when we pray, if we have breakfast in this day, we must grateful with the other gift."

(Sigh.) How many times I have said the Lord's Prayer, taking for granted that I will be given -- at the very least -- "breakfast" (as well as all the other meals I need to round out my day), never recognizing that my full belly is an answered prayer! (And that does not take into consideration all of the other blessings I recieve daily which fall under the "Bread" category!)

Ignatius goes on...

"Usually when we pray, we always request, request and request. I think if we grateful with God about our sick, our difficulty, our 'cross' and gift all things to God's hand, maybe God will change our life...In my country, most of people difficult to find food for daily life, so when we have food for today this is enough. The other gift from God is our blessed."

I am humbled. I am blessed. I am grateful.

I first "met" Ignatius after I logged onto a Catholic website in search of materials for the Catechism class I was teaching in November 1999. He came across my address in the on-line guest book I had signed, and sent me a message introducing himself as an "Indonesian Roman Catholic guy." He apologized for writing to me when I did not know him, and he apolgized for anything his people "dirty did" for my "nationality." He explained that all Indonesians were not the same, and that he did not hate us, because we are family and friends. His last line was "Jesus love us...!!"

Ignatius was 21 years old -- slightly younger than my Meagan. He explained that he just wanted to write to a friend who lived in another country.

I still have all of those messages from my long-distance friend. Via the Internet, I got to know Ignatius quite well, and learned to love him for his spirit, which shone through the barriers of language and distance. I worried about him whenever I heard of a natural disaster or an act of terrorism in Indonesia. (There were plenty of both.) A small item in the newspaper would send me scurrying for the world map so I could see how close Ignatius's island (Batam) was to the disaster.

We exchanged gifts and photographs by Air Mail, but not very often. After a couple of years, Ignatius's commissioned job ended, and he no longer had access to a computer. No more e-mail. We exchanged a few more letters, then communication stopped. After a while, I assumed the worst; I was certain that if he were able, Ignatius would have stayed in contact. My addresses -- both e-mail and physical -- remained the same. I wondered for several years if I would ever know what had happened to my friend.

Then, six years after I had last heard from Indonesia, I finally received a letter -- Ignatius was alive and well! (Alas, I misplaced that letter before I could answer, so I had no idea where to send my reply.) Finally, last spring there was a message in my Inbox from my Indonesian, and we have been exchanging messages regularly ever since.

Of course I can't know why God put Ignatius in touch with me nearly ten years ago -- or why he had him vanish, only to reappear years later. I suspect it has something to do with "Daily Bread." I can't remember what was going on in my life when I received that first message from across the seas, but that is not important...Right now I feel like I am in special need of prayers, and every message from Ignatius resonates with hope and trust in God (and, always, assurances of his prayers for me and for my country). If Ignatius gets through to God as clearly as he does to me, then I consider myself well prayed for!

God bless you, my wonderful Indonesian son! I am thankful for the "Daily Bread" you provide in my life!