Little Flower & The Blessed Sacrament- Chapter II, Part 1

The continuation of The Little Flower and the Blessed Sacrament by Rev. Joseph Husslein, S.J.

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CHAPTER II

THE DIVINE PRISONER OF LOVE

It was Teresa's clothing day in the Carmel. Her father had come to meet her at the enclosure door, his eyes filled with tears of joy. Pressing her to his heart, he exclaimed:

"Ah! here is my little Queen!"

He then gave her his arm, and together they solemnly entered the public chapel.

His two eldest daughters had already joined the Carmel. Celine too had confided to him her wish to leave the world. His gratitude therefore knew no bounds. Where could he better pour forth the gladness of his heart than in the presence of his Eucharistic King? The ardent desire of his saintly wife, during her brief life, was now receiving its last and complete fulfillment.

"I beseech Thee," she repeatedly had asked of Almighty God, "to make me the mother of many children, and to grant that all of them may be dedicated to Thee."

Such, too, had been his own most fervent wish, though he never sought to forestall the workings of the Holy Ghost in the souls confided to him.

"Let us go before the Blessed Sacrament," he now said, "and thank God for all the graces He has granted us and the honor He has paid me in choosing His spouses from my household. God has indeed done me great honor in asking for my children. If I possessed anything better, I would hasten to offer it to Him."

More than ever the Little Flower was henceforth to bloom and spend herself for her Beloved, and draw, in ever greater measure, from the Divine Sun of Love the sweetness and beauty which were so to entrance the world in after years and turn men's hearts to God in new and fuller dedication. Many, indeed, were the lessons she was to learn during the moments of sublime intimacy that were to pass between herself and that hidden Bridegroom of her soul, speaking to her from behind the lattice, in the silence of the Tabernacle.

In her masque, "The Angles of the Crib," she makes the Angel of the Eucharist fly to earth to seek Christ's Altar Throne. She herself might now sing with this celestial Guardian of her Eucharistic God:

"Here shall I dwell in this blest place,

The sanctuary of my King,

And here before His veiled face

My hymns of burning love shall sing."

In the Holy Eucharist she beheld the completion of Christ's profound self-abasement: the Divine King of Glory submitting Himself in wondrous humility to all His priests. They may have less or greater fervor, they may advance or delay the hour of the Holy Sacrifice, yet He is always ready to come down from His high Heaven at their call. The Faithful, too, may heed His invitation. They may hasten to Him with the utmost frequency and affection, or they may delay to follow His invitation and approach Him only with coldness and indifference. Yet He gives Himself to all alike.

"O my Beloved," she exclaimed, in a prayer composed by her for a novice, "under the white Eucharistic veil Thou dost indeed appear to me meek and humble of heart! To teach me humility Thou canst not further abase Thyself, and so I wish to respond to Thy love by putting myself in the lowest place, by sharing Thy humiliations, so that I may 'have part with Thee' in the Kingdom of Heaven."

Last Day of AugBlogWriMo!!

Today's the day... August 31st.

It has been quite a crazy month, and I must say that I'm pleased with how frequently I was able to blog. Granted, daily didn't quite happen, but I got pretty close, which makes me excessively happy.

I didn't get a chance to post yesterday, but there are a few truly legitimate reasons for that. First off, it was the first day of classes, and my schedule was quite full. Secondly, Husband's grandmother, Tina, passed away yesterday afternoon.

Thanks be to God, she received the Last Rites and was wearing the Brown Scapular at the time of her death. Husband was there with her in her last moments.

Husband and I would like to ask for your prayers for the repose of her soul.

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord, and may the perpetual light shine upon her. May she, and all the souls of the faithful departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace. Amen.

The Little Flower & The Blessed Sacrament- Chapter I, Part 4

The conclusion of the first chapter in The Little Flower and the Blessed Sacrament.

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But years passed, and Teresa too, like Our Divine Lord, "advanced in wisdom, and age, and grace with God and men." But never did she lose the simplicity and sweet charm of her childhood days. If then she delighted to cast her flowers before the Eucharistic King, and her heart leaped with joy as her petals touched the sacred Monstrance, she now continued each day to scatter her blossoms before God, but hereafter these flowers were to be her sacrifices and prayers, her joys and sufferings of life, all offered up in the trusting spirit of childhood, with the utmost love and self-abandonment.

"But how should I show my love, since love proves itself by deeds?" she asks, and her answer comes: "Well, the little child will strew flowers. She will embalm the Divine Heart with their fragrance. She will sing Love's canticle in silvery tones."

Well may we fancy her words as joyously reminiscent of those Blessed Sacrament Processions of earlier days, the happy memory of which clung like a perfume to her heart. How redolent with these odors are the thoughts that follow!

"The only way I have of proving my love is to strew flowers before Thee-- that is to say, I will let no tiny sacrifice pass, no look, no word. I wish to profit by the smallest actions, and to do them for Love. I wish to suffer for Love's sake, and for Love's sake even to rejoice; thus shall I strew my flowers. But not one shall I find without scattering its petals before Thee. And I will sing, I will sing always, even if my roses must be gathered for amidst thorns; and the longer and the sharper the thorns, the sweeter shall be my song."

How beautifully Eucharistic, then, the entire concept is! How it reminds us of those ranks of little, white-clad children, with innocence beaming upon their bright and happy faces, as they solemnly strew their blossoms in the path-way of the King, as He is borne aloft between them in His golden Monstrance! And how often, too, the Little Flower scattered those petals of her roses before that Altar Throne in the Carmel's silent chapel, where her soul found its sweetest resting place. "This fragrant shower, these delicate petals of little price, these songs of love from a poor little heart," she knew were pleasing to Jesus, refreshing to His Heart, like as the rose-leaves strewn by children's hands.

"Trifles they are, but Thou wilt smile on them. The Church Triumphant, stooping towards her child, will gather up these scattered rose-leaves, and, placing them in Thy Divine Hands, there to acquire an infinite value, will shower them on the Church Suffering to extinguish its flames, and on the Church Militant to obtain its victory."

Such were the results in large part due to that Eucharistic devotion practised by her from childhood and constantly intensified with the years, until from the shelter of the Carmel she might melodiously sing:

"My Heaven within the Host safe hid and perfect lies,

Where Jesus Christ abides, Divinest, fairest Fair;

From that great fount of love shall life eternal rise,

There night and day my Lord gives heed unto my prayer."

Parents should learn to stimulate in the hearts of their children, even from their tenderest years, those Eucharistic longings and affections which worked so mightily within the soul of little Teresa, and which helped so greatly to keep it always pure, holy and beautiful. Let us not deprive out little ones of their sublimest heritage, the love of Jesus in the Eucharist.

The Little Flower & the Blessed Sacrament- Chapter I, Part 3

And here is another snippet from The Little Flower and the Blessed Sacrament, by Rev. Joseph Husslein, S.J.

I think it important to note that St. Therese's parents, Sts. Louis and Zelie Martin, had a great devotion to the Holy Souls in Purgatory as well, and fittingly instilled the devotion in the hearts of their daughters. I think it is a great testimony to the virtue of this devotion that three of the family are now canonized saints, and the other sisters lived very virtuous and holy lives as well. Perhaps one day the entire Martin family will be numbered among the Church's canonized saints.

Saint Augustine and Poor Holy Souls in Purgatory, orate pro nobis!

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Chapter I, Part 3- St. Teresa and Friendship

Little Teresa, it may be a consolation for some souls to know, was not "popular" at school. Nor did she find it possible even later to enter into long, familiar conversations with her teachers, as others of the older pupils did, or to win any special tokens of favor from them, though she led in her studies. That was God's particular blessing in her regard. It drew her nearer to Him. It made her realize, with her vast capacity and desire for love, that He alone was her true and lasting Friend. If at times it produced within her a natural depression of spirit, it nevertheless taught her in consequence to appreciate more highly the consoling Presence of Our Lord in the Holy Eucharist. His love alone could never fail her. Others might forget or overlook her; He would always have His Heart wide open for her. To us, too, let us remember, that love is extended, and to all who wish to come to Him.

Referring to a period in her life when twice a week she went to take lessons in a convent, just for the sake of being admitted into the Sodality of the Blessed Virgin, she writes:

"So I worked in silence till the end if the lesson, and then, as no one took any notice of me, I went to the tribune in the chapel till Papa came to fetch me home. Here, during this silent visit, I found my one consolation; for was not Jesus my only Friend? To Him alone could I open my heart."

 What graces must have been granted to her by her Divine Spouse in these trysts of love! She applied to herself in their fullest sense those words of Our Lord: "If you ask the Father anything in My name, He will give it you." Nor was she ever disappointed, for she sought always to bring her will into complete conformity with His. Truly, therefore, could she sing:

"All things my love can gain when, heart to heart, I pray,

Alone with Jesus Christ in speechless ecstasy.

Beside His altar blest with Him I gladly stay:

O, this is heaven for me!"

It was here that in later years she was to pray so earnestly for our Holy Mother the Church; for those entrusted to her care; for friends, relatives, and her own Sisters in Religion; for every soul, that God might enter in and establish there His reign of love, but especially for priests, that they might truly be "other Christs." Here, too, could she plead, like Moses on the mountain, that God might multiply vocations and send ever greater armies of workers into His vineyard and His harvest field.

But neither was the Church Suffering forgotten by her, the souls confined in Purgatory, for whom the Heart in the Tabernacle is moved with such tender affection. She herself tells us how her rose-leaves, made precious by the touch of the Divine Hand, were scattered by It upon those holy sufferers to extinguish their flames.

It is precisely in connection with the Holy Eucharist that so many indulgences can be gained by us for the Poor Souls. The one familiar prayer alone which is to be said after Communion before an image of the Crucified, enables us to gain a Plenary Indulgence each time we receive Our Divine Lord, provided some additional prayers-- e.g., five "Our Fathers," and five "Hail Marys" are recited for the intention of the Holy Father.

A loving zeal to aid these souls in God's prison house, is a devotion which the Heart of Jesus has intimately connected with the Sacred Presence, with Communion and the Holy Mass, as also of course with the Rosary and the Way of the Cross. Our Lord seems to say: "If you love Me in My Sacrament of Love, help the souls whom I love, that you may hasten the day when I can clasp them to My Heart of Love."

Change Is Good

Change is good. Change is good. Change is good. Changeisgood. Changeisgood. Changeisgoodchangeisgoodchangeisgoodchangeisgood. Change is...

As I sit here in the very stylish cafe at my local Barnes and Nobles, I can't help but to repeat that mantra to myself over and over again. I've always been a firm believer in Divine Providence and I'm usually pretty good at just letting God do the steering while I sit back and (try) to enjoy the ride.

Today, however... Well, today is a bit different. I'm still letting God steer, but I'm dealing with more than a little trepidation at the moment in regards to the direction we're going in.

Today marked the last day at my non-musical job, and while I'm happy to be done with it, I'm still feeling a bit depressed. I was hard pressed to hold back tears while saying my good-byes to people who have been a part of my life for the last four years. I'm leaving a comfortable, consistent position, doing something that I'm pretty good at, and stepping forth into the new, but uncertain, life of a full-time student and music teacher.

I'm worried about where money is going to come from. I'm worried about my financial aid getting straightened out at school. I'm worried about being a good teacher. I'm worried about how I'm going to balance my new schedule. I'm worried about the fact that I had to dip into my savings in order to meet all the expenses for school this semester. I'm worried that I'll not make enough back to re-secure my plans to go to Chartres and Scotland in the spring.

I'm worried that my worrying is going to drive me crazy.

I need to take a deep breath and just let it go, I know. I need to say my Rosary and pray for fortitude. And I need to focus on the good things in my life, rather than focusing on the things that are troublesome. Thinking about my blessings always helps me to re-focus.

And so, to close my post on a happier, more uplifting note, I shall share with you an essay I wrote a few months ago and had forgotten about until now.

I Believe...

I believe in the existence of kindred spirits and the power of true friendship. There is something wondrous and beautiful about meeting a person and instantly feeling like you've known them for a lifetime; that you have similar thoughts and feelings on a broad variety of subjects; that there is mutual interest and sympathy, creating an almost instantaneous bond. It's a bond that seems to bridge individual identity- yet still retains it- creating a feeling of one soul in two bodies. It bridges age as well as distance, social position and religion. I have been blessed to experience this bond several times during my life, and every time I learn something new, not only about other people, but also about myself.       

Through my best friend, who I met at summer camp in 2001, I discovered the beauty of J. R. R. Tolkien's writings and that it was perfectly acceptable to nurture my imagination. She was an avid writer of fan fiction, something I had wished that I was brave enough to do, and with her gentle nudging and enthusiastic encouragement, I finally allowed my creative side some room to grow. From her I also learned the value of listening, rather than monopolizing the conversation as my talkative nature made me wont to do. Over the years, our friendship has grown deeper and closer, despite our physical distance growing apart (she now lives in California.)
     

Most recently, and with an even greater distance between us, I made the acquaintance of a gentleman in Scotland. We were complete strangers until our mutual love of Star Wars and writing fan fiction brought us together on an Internet forum. Even then, we were anonymous people hiding behind clever screen names, but appreciative of the other's wit and writing ability. Finally, a question about some obscure point of continuity led to a series of private messages. It quickly became apparent that we were very similar people and, after more emails and chat sessions, kindred spirits. Our acquaintance has quickly bloomed into friendship, leaving me amazed at how different we are (he's a DPhil candidate in Medieval studies and loves complicated, obscure arguments- I'm a Vocal Performance undergrad, and I put much emphasis on clear, simple logic), yet similar at the same time. Our similarities are profound, relating mostly to subjects like faith, loyalty, and the true meaning of love. And despite the thousands of miles between us, he's been able to help me in meaningful ways. Our conversations, while often times light hearted and Star Wars-centric, easily slip into deep, profound topics. He is a gentle encourager and is able to help me tease out the answers to personal conundrums, without solving them for me. His insight and respectful advice has shed light on issues I never thought I could resolve. More often than not, our dialogue leaves me joyfully contemplative and motivated to better myself.
      

Truly, I believe in the strength and love that this true friendship can lend. It is humbling to know that one person can affect so much good in another, and I can only hope that I can do the same for those who have touched me.

Little Flower & The Blessed Sacrament- Chapter I, Part 2

Some lovely thoughts for the Feast of the Seven Joys of the Blessed Virgin Mary...

Postscript- I find it interesting that the Seven (or Five) Joys had a place of honour in pre-reformation England. (More Here) We should pray for devotion to Our Lady to fully return to the Anglicans, and then perhaps we'll see the full fruits of Anglicanorum Coetibus.

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Chapter I cont.- St. Teresa and the Flowers

At about the age of five, while playing among the flowers, of which she was always very fond, she already found her amusement in making little altars within openings that she happened to find in the garden wall. When her tiny structures were completed, she would run to call her father, who invariably shared in her delight. Incidentally, too, these diversions manifest the attraction which Altar and Tabernacle even then exercised over her, and how the Divine Presence had captivated her thoughts and her heart.

   Holiness may be said to have been almost bred in the very nature of this favored child, thanks to the Eucharistic devotion of her wise and pious parents, who knew how to make piety joyous, while play itself was hallowed by piety. Thus the way had been lovingly prepared for that Divine Bridegroom of her soul who at once led her by these sweetly scented paths directly to the great central mystery of our Faith, the Holy Eucharist.

   That love of God which the parents so carefully instilled into the soul of little Teresa was no mere sentiment. It was a love strong in action and in suffering.

   "I offered myself to Our Lord to be His Little Flower," she writes. "I longed to console Him, to draw as near as possible to the Tabernacle, to be looked on, cared for, and gathered by Him."

   The desire of complete self-oblation now took possession of her heart. Such, in particular, were the affections aroused in her while looking at a picture whose charming title was: "The Little Flower of the Tabernacle."

   But her supreme happiness consisted in taking her place in the procession of the Blessed Sacrament, there to await the moment when she could toss her flowers to the Divine King as he was borne along in triumph. She was not content merely to scatter them in His path-- her love was far too intimate for that!-- but she must even then signalize herself in her own daring way. And evidently no one thwarted these acts of childish affection which so delighted the Heart of her virginal Spouse. She herself tells us:

   "Above all, I loved the procession of the Blessed Sacrament: what a joy it was to strew flowers in God's path! But before scattering them on the ground I threw them high in the air, and was never so happy as when I saw my rose-leaves touch the sacred Monstrance."

   Every Sunday was a day of joy to her, when, as she tells us, "the whole family went to High Mass." Here she could satisfy her longing to be in the presence of Christ, to pour out her little heart before Him, and to listen to His own voice speaking to her from the silent Tabernacle.

   Of the Little Flower's ardent desire for Holy Communion, almost from the days of babyhood, much remains to be said elsewhere in this volume, and also of her other Eucharistic attractions, so remarkable in one of her tender years. These were the first sparks of that great Eucharistic love which was to inflame her soul.

"Never was I so happy as when I saw my rose-leaves touch the sacred Monstrance."

Little Flower & The Blessed Sacrament- Chapter I, Part 1

As promised, here is the first in a long series of some meditations on St. Therese and the Blessed Sacrament, from the book The Little Flower and the Blessed Sacrament, written by Rev. Joseph Husslein, S.J. (1925).

PART I

BEFORE THE TABERNACLE

CHAPTER I

-Early Eucharistic Attractions-

Love of the Holy Eucharist was early instilled into the soul of the little Teresa. Like a quickening dew it slipped into the heart of the "Little Flower," long before its tiny petals had unfolded in all their beauty. From the age of two, she tells us, she was already drawn to the Divine Spouse of virgins.

   At what time she first came to know and love Him in His Blessed Sacrament we are not informed by her. The words she puts upon the lips of her sister Celine, in that delightful poem, "What I Used to Love," may well lead us to conclude she was there in reality describing her own experience no less than that of her playmate and praymate in that springtime of her childhood. In simple language she thus records these earliest intimacies of virginal affection for Christ in the Holy Eucharist:

"O, how I loved my heavenly Lord,

In His blest Sacrament adored!

He bound me to Him by His plighted word:

That He my spouse would be

From infancy."

   She was not yet four years of age when the following conversation between herself and Celine was overheard by their mother:

   "How can God be in such a tiny Host?" asked Celine.

   "That is not strange," replied little Teresa, "because God is Almighty."

   "And what does 'Almighty' mean?"

   "It means that He can do whatever He likes."

   Happy little children, brought so early to the knowledge and love of the Supreme Good by the tender care of a wise and loving mother!

   The delightful autobiography of St. Teresa of the Child Jesus, written in obedience to the wish of her Mother Prioress, gives us only passing glimpses of this noble woman after God's own Heart; but they are enough to reveal her to us in all the charm of domestic affection, gentle as she was firm in her control, winning as she was saintly in her life. We find her always with her little ones, saying their prayers with them, accompanying them in their walks, training them with all the skill of personal experience in the art of sanctity, and so finally, like St. Paul, making them imitators of herself as she also was an imitator of Christ. Thus reared in holiness from their tenderest years, it was only necessary to point out to them the Virgin Christ in His Holy Eucharist that they might love Him with all their hearts.

   At the early death of this valiant woman the full responsibility of the home fell upon the "incomparable father" of that family, a man like St. Joseph, hidden and saintly in his life. St. Teresa, referring to his custom of daily reciting the family prayers with his children, wrote: "I had only to look at him to know how the saints pray."

   But he was no less humanly tender than he was heroic in his faith and sacrifice. Constantly he deepened and strengthened in little Teresa the love of her Divine Spouse and of His Presence in the Eucharist. As an instance I may cite her own words in which she describes the rambles she was wont to take with him.

   "Every afternoon," she says, "I went out for a walk with him, and we paid a visit to the Blessed Sacrament in one or other of the churches." It was in this way that St. Teresa of the Child Jesus first saw the chapel of the Carmel in which she was to spend so many happy hours.

   "Look, little Queen," he observed, using the pet name he had given her, "behind that big grating there are holy nuns who are always praying to Almighty God." Little did she then think that soon she, too, would be kneeling there with them before the Divine Presence in the Blessed Sacrament.

Something Different

After I said my Rosary this evening, I happened to glance over at the bookshelf where the religious books are kept. My eye almost instantly fell upon a book that my dear Grandmother (God rest her soul) had given me for my Confirmation. The book was a fitting gift, being about St. Therese of Lisieux, who I had chosen as my Confirmation saint.

Unfortunately, I did not read it for many years, not being inclined to do any spiritual reading that was outside of what was necessary for catechism class. When I finally picked it up ten years later, I was so pleased to find that my Grandmother had given me a veritable treasure chest of spiritual wealth.

The book is entitled The Little Flower and the Blessed Sacrament. It was written by the Rev. Joseph Husslein, S.J. (Jesuit, I believe?) in the year of Our Lord, 1925.

After many fruitless searches, I've been unable to find another copy of the book. I wish it was still in print, because I'd give it to everyone I knew.

And then, tonight, after spying it on my bookshelf, I decided that the book needed to be shared. It is too precious and full of beautiful, edifying thoughts to sit on my bookshelf. Some further research reveals that the book was copyrighted in 1925, but after the initial 23 years the copyright wasn't renewed by the author, which makes it public domain, to the best of my knowledge.

Therefore, I've decided to post bits from the book for my reader's enjoyment. With God's grace, I hope it will bring people closer to The Little Flower, and through her to the Blessed Sacrament and the Catholic Church.

St. Therese of Lisieux, ora pro nobis!

The Little Flower and the Blessed Sacrament- Beautiful cover illustration of a young St. Therese showering rose petals on Our Lord.

Signature inside cover- Monsignor Joseph J. Gavenda, S.T.D., J.C.D.

(It seems my great-great uncle had a devotion to the Little Flower as well!!)

Lovely image of St. Therese sending forth her "Shower of Roses" with the Blessed Mother and the Christ Child looking on.

Imprini Potest- Lawrence J. Kelly, S.J. Nihil Obstat- Arthur J. Scanlan, S.T.D.
Imprimatur- +Patrick Cardinal Hayes, Archbishop of New York

New York, October 25, 1925

Dedicated to St. Therese of the Child Jesus on the occasion of the 28th International Eucharistic Congress, Chicago 1926

Time to Catch Up...

... on my progress through Dickens' Great Expectations. I haven't blogged about it since the beginning of the month, and I feel very remiss, especially after reading a little snippet in Seraphic's Blog Seraphic Singles. (Yes, I know her blog is directed at singles, but she has so much practical advice on how to deal with men, which I need desperately at times. And I do read her 'married' blog as well. Anyway...) In the snippet, Seraphic says:

"My personal feeling is that blogs are a great way to meet likeminded people and make friends. The trick is that your blog should be about something that you are passionate about (and not just about you)."

It got me to thinking, and I realised that my blog is mainly about me and that's most likely what is making it hard for me to blog everyday. I need to write about what I'm passionate about- the Catholic Faith, books, films, music. Perhaps, then it will be easier to keep this up (and not so boring for my readers).

So, to keep in step with this resolution, let's take a look at some Dickens, shall we?

CHAPTER III

Poor Pip.

That's really all I can say. He's gotten himself into quite a quandary and he feels absolutely terrible about it. He's been practically forced to steal from his sister, and the guilt is nearly driving him mad. Then, on top of it, he runs into another convict, which scares him half to death. He finally meets up with the right convict, gives him the food, and then gets frightened again when this convict almost throttles him for seeing the other convict.

It's quite confusing at this point, because no one has any names. It's just 'the man' and 'the young man.' And poor Pip.

I must say I'm enjoying the various accents, thus far...

CHAPTER IV

Here we have a full chapter of Pip on pins and needles, and on Christmas, too! He's so worried that Mrs. Joe will find out that he's taken things from the pantry, that he can hardly enjoy what should be one of the most joyous days of the year.

I'm starting to be fascinated with the extreme sense of guilt that Pip is carrying on his slim, young shoulders. Mrs. Joe is constantly making the poor boy feel unworthy and unfit to live. Pip remarks:

"I was always treated as if I had insisted on being born in opposition to the dictates of reason, religion, and morality, and against the dissuading arguments of my best friends."

And yet, for all her preaching and penance-giving, it's Mrs. Joe who doesn't go to church on Christmas Day because she's too busy preparing for the guests coming later. Hasn't she ever heard the Gospel about Martha and Mary?

During the dinner, Pip has no repose from his guilt, because Mrs. Joe insists upon making him the subject of ridicule in front of the guests, who take up her habit and berate Pip, too! If Dickens was trying to instill a sense of pity for Pip in his reader, he has certainly succeeded! By the end of the chapter, I wanted nothing more than to whisk the poor child away from his sister and the Wopsles and Uncle Pumblechook. Only Joe had any sense of how to act decently towards Pip. Unfortunately, he isn't much better off than Pip himself, as Mrs. Joe treats him with very little respect.

The woman is a Pharisee, I tell you...

Oh, and I laughed with wicked delight when Pumblechook drank the Tar-water... I just wish it had been Mrs. Joe. But I suppose those are uncharitable thoughts, even if they're towards a fictional character.

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There is more to follow, as I've read up to chapter eleven, and I shall post again shortly. For now I am wondering briefly if a certain Scottish gentleman will be sharing his thoughts with me about the book, as we had promised to read it in a book-club fashion, and compare notes as we made our way through the novel. Hmm...

After Midnight Again...

... but I don't care. I'm still holding to the "I-haven't-gone-to-bed-yet-so-it's-still-today" philosophy. *stubborn*

Anywho, today was pretty uneventful. I worked today and I was hard pressed to keep busy because my replacement has taken to the job swimmingly. All of our clients have been calling to wish me good luck and to tell me how much they'll miss me. I haven't gotten depressed or teary-eyed yet about it. So far so good. Hopefully I won't, either.

After work I went over to my friend Nini's house for a lovely evening. We watched a fantastic Bollywood film called 'Cheeni Kum.' It was a really cute movie about an older gentleman falling in love with a younger woman and some of the obstacles they had to overcome together. It was very entertaining and quite humourous, and there wasn't a single contrived dance number in sight!

Okay, well, I can't really complain about the dance numbers because I do like them for the most part. The music is really fun and the dancing is beautiful, but when I say that the reasons for a dance number are 'contrived,' do I mean contrived. In old Broadway musicals, the story seemed to flow seamlessly into the musical numbers. It always made perfect sense and, more importantly, it always felt right for the characters to burst into song when they did. Look at My Fair Lady (my absolute favourite) or Sound of Music (2nd Favourite) or Singin' in the Rain or any of those. Bollywood films just seem to struggle with achieving that seamlessness most of the time.(Although Paheli and Rab Ne Bana di Jodi are both really good and flow well).

After the film, Nini and I finished our tea and chatted a bit about our plans to go abroad in the spring. It was slightly related to the movie, since most of the film took place in London (squee!) and that's one of the places on our potential itinerary. Sometimes I wish I had the money to just travel all the time. There are so many beautiful places to see, shrines to make pilgrimages to, and cultures to experience. I've loved what travelling I have done, and I can't wait to do more!

Now, I'm home, snuggly in my bed and starting to fall asleep. And so it is that I must leave you... buenas noches...

Gah! It's Still Today! I Promise!

Yes, the date up top says Tuesday, August 24, but I haven't gone to bed yet! It's only 5 minutes past midnight! It is still today! It's not tomorrow yet. Nor is today yesterday. Today won't be yesterday and tomorrow won't be today until after I've slept! So there!

Okay, now that I've thoroughly confused myself...

Today was the beginning of my last week at work. It flew by quite nicely. I did the last bit of pearl restringing and left my replacement to try and handle things on her own, which she did quite wonderfully. I tried to get my financial aid straightened out during a lull, but the woman who told me to call her back today was out of the office for the day! Gah! *headdesk*

Please pray that my financial aid works out... I may start to lose my mind otherwise...

After work, I taught voice lessons and met two more new students, which was really fun. Unfortunately, a lot of my teenaged students love Taylor Swift. I've spent the last year avoiding that music like the plague (there's nothing wrong with it, I just don't like country, and it's too bubble gum sweet for me, personally) and now I'm being inundated with it. Every time I was with my sister and Taylor Swift would come up on her iPod, I'd beg her to turn it off.

"Can we please listen to something else?" I'd whine, staring at her in utter anguish from the passenger seat.

"It's my car, so we listen to my music," was her smirky reply.

Well, I couldn't possibly argue with that since I came up with that rule in the first place, so I'd lean my head in my hand and stare languidly out the window, sighing melodramatically at the end of appropriate phrases in the music. The first time, my sister stalwartly ignored my semi-silent protest and blithely sang along to the song blasting from the radio. The second time, she got half-way though the number before scowling at me darkly and then clicking ahead to the next song in the shuffle. The third time, she just gave up entirely.

"Fine. I'll just enjoy her music when you're not around," she muttered, trying to ignore the ridiculously annoying grin of absolute pleasure plastered on my face. (Hey, I'm a big sister. You've gotta enjoy your victories when you can get them. It's not often you get to make your younger siblings do something for you rather than the other way around!)

And then last week, I slunk into her bedroom, a look of abject shame and humiliation gracing my countenance. I threw myself onto her bed and sighed.

My sister, who is used to my over-dramatic silliness by now, ignored my demonstration and went on with her sewing.

After a moment's silence, I gathered the courage to speak.

"I need to home share your Taylor Swift music," I said, trying to sound somewhat cheerful.

My sister positively beamed at me. "Really? Do you like her now?"

My eyes narrowed and I could feel the laser beams coming online. "No," I said sullenly.

"Oh. Why do you need it then?"

I scowled darkly and muttered, "Because my students are all singing her music, and I don't know how any of it goes."

Of course, my sister laughed at this and it took all of my self-control to keep those laser beams from burning a hole through the dress she was making.

"Yeah, well, can I transfer it over or what?" I asked somewhat ungraciously and rather petulantly.

Of course, she said 'yes,' and even added the observation that "maybe you'll like it now that you're actually going to listen to it." Let me tell you, her new shiny laptop almost died a sudden death...

So now I'm acquainting myself with the music of Taylor Swift... ugh. At least I snatched some other music out of my sister's library to help break up the monotony. She had Coldplay's Parachutes album (WAHOO!), The Beatles, some Frank Sinatra I hadn't yet collected, Owl City (Fireflies, anyone?Ooh! Or maybe Vanilla Twilight), and a fantastic new singer/songwriter named Ingrid Michaelson (Be OK is just brilliant).

At least my sister's taste in music isn't all bad... she can be redeemed yet, just on the merits of having Coldplay and the Beatles. 

Where'd the Weekend Go?

I can't believe it's already Sunday night. So much for yesterday's post. I've already forgotten what I was going to write about...

Today was a fairly good day. It was nice and slow. Very good for relaxing, in fact.

Our choir sang Palestrina's Missa Ave Maria again today for the Feast of the Immaculate Heart. I think it went better today than it did last week, actually. We always seem to work the bugs out on our second time around. This Mass does mark my last sung High Mass for awhile, though. I officially notified the director of my decision to take a break for the semester at least. It went over a lot easier than I thought it would, actually. My director did rope me into promising that I'd come back to sing the big Mass for All Saints' Day, however. I don't mind though. I suspect that by then I'll be more than ready to go back upstairs, but we'll see.

Husband and I spent the day at my parents' house, which was really nice. The Man In Black was there as well, which was a lot of fun. Father has a great sense of humour and the afternoon passed quickly with many outbursts of laughter.

I really can't believe that I'll be back to school next Monday. This summer just seemed to fly by. I need to make sure I get all of my financial aid worked out tomorrow (the school totally messed up my scholarships... GRRR...) and I have to order my textbooks if I'm going to get them on time.

Other than that, the weekend was pretty uneventful. I did get bitten by another plot bunny, though. This time I can actually say that's it's a genuine plot bunny, too. I had a fantastically vivid dream a few nights ago and amazingly I remembered it when I woke up. The dream was only about 5 minutes in the life of my characters, but when I woke up I found that I knew everything about them. I know what's going to happen from beginning to end. AND, which is even more exciting, it's original fiction. No fan fiction here at all! Yay!

I've always felt a little insecure trying to write original fiction. I never felt quite up to being able to do thorough enough research (especially for period pieces) and I was never able to find a story line I thought was strong enough to carry a whole novel. Basically, I was afraid of making a mistake or writing something that wouldn't be worth anyone's time to read. But I'm feeling really confident about this one. It is a period piece, so I'll have to do some research, but I think I'm going to wait until I get everything down on paper, otherwise I'll never actually start writing. Plus, I have an awesome friend who I know I can turn to if I run into any brick walls. It's really convenient to have a historian friend sometimes... ;)

That being said, I'm going to wrap this up and get started writing before my characters decide to mutiny because I'm not giving them the attention they deserve.

It's Been A Busy Day...

And I have a post drafted in my head, but I posting quick so that I know I blogged something for today. God willing, I'll have some time later to write a proper post. ;)

The Winds of Change

I don't know if it's because summer is coming to an end, or what, but I can't shake the feeling that things are going to be very different, very soon.

Yes, school is starting in little more than a week (AH! How is the 30th so close already?!?), and I'm leaving my old job to start a new one. That's an awful lot of change right there.

Honestly, the whole job thing has been really... weird? I was so hesitant to leave my position, even though I knew I could jump right into a better paying, music related job, and it took months of consideration before I finally told my boss that I'd be leaving at the end of August. But now, well... work's been so insanely busy, and my replacement, who I'm currently training, is so extremely capable that I'm not feeling hesitant at all. In fact, I'm eager for my last day.

Don't get me wrong, I'm going to miss my co-workers. They're all awesome guys. And a lot of our clients were really awesome and nice, and I'm gonna miss the funny banter-y chat I had three time a week with one in particular. Heck, I'll probably even miss the dude who was always grumpy and just called me 'the girl.' In all honesty, though, most of the missing will be because I'm missing familiarity. I'll be missing the security of familiar surroundings, only dealing with the same people week after week, knowing exactly how and when to do my job.

But there's also the excitement of the unknown ahead of me. I'm going to have a ton of new voice students come September, I'm going to be teaching at a local school, I'm going to have to actively pursue gigs and auditions. For once in my life, everything I'm doing is going to be focused on the same goal. It's an awesome feeling.

It's also a terrifying feeling. What if my goal doesn't pan out? What if I can't pull together enough work to make ends meet? What if I don't have what it takes to even reach my goal? There are so many variables now, and almost no security. For the first time ever, my future is completely in my hands. I'm only going to get as much as I make of it. I'm only going to get out whatever I put in.

I'm going to have to rely a lot more on Divine Providence and be much more willing to take things as they come. I might have a bratty student or an awful audition or deal with a really harsh rejection, but I have to trust that in the end it's going to be good for me, that in the end it's all God's plan.

Yeah, I said my future is in my hands, but really, it's in His. I only want what He wants for me and so I'm entrusting everything to Him through His Most Blessed Mother. I'm going to deal with some tough stuff, I know, but like they say 'No pain, no gain.' I'm also confident that there are some really great times ahead, and those high points are going to have to carry me through the low points.

I'm also going to have to make some tough decisions, one of which I'm mulling over right now. After 12, almost 13, long years in my parish choir, I'm contemplating whether or not to take a break. There are so many factors to consider and, sadly, a lot of them are leaning me towards the decision to leave. I just know that I have so much to focus on right now, and choir was a big stress factor for me last semester. I just don't have the time or the energy to devote to it. There was a time when I looked forward to Friday night rehearsals- I got to see my friends, rehearse some awesome music (Honestly, how many teenagers get to learn Renaissance Polyphony and Gregorian chant and actually perform it on a weekly basis?), and generally have a fun time. Now, it's just a chore. It's something else to do and I feel like I can't properly glorify God if my heart's not in it. In all honesty, it's becoming a distraction to my attentiveness at Mass. I just don't feel as prayerful as I should be.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just over-analysing things. But there are personality issues at play as well, and I've been trying really hard just to let things go. Unfortunately, I'm not sure if that attempt is fully successful on my part or even if the attempt is mutual with the other party. If anything, that's the main thing driving this. I just think it would be better for everyone concerned if I bowed out for awhile. I can sing from the pew, get some more prayer in, be less stressed and pressed for time, and not step on anyone's toes.

And as I write this I think my decision has been made. I think it's time to bow out. No, it's definitely time to bow out. I will be sad to go, but again, I think it's that nostalgia again.

Change is tough. It's uncertain and new. It closes a door that has always seemed safe and leaves you out in the Great Plains of Change to find a new door (or window) though which to clamber, and hope that you'll find something that makes you feel safe there, too.

I think that if I'm reliant enough on God's plan and open enough to grace, the changes that are coming won't be so scary and unfamiliar at all. Truly, God is only with us in this very moment. He's not behind us lingering in the past or waiting up ahead in our unwritten future. He is with us right now, and if we are with Him in every moment, well, there is nothing to fear. If He is with us, then we are where He wants us, be the moment happy or sad, comfy or scary.

And besides, "If God is for us, who can be against us?" (Romans 8:31)

Small Word of Great Consequence

I couldn't think of anything to blog about all day, but I was determined to blog about something because I no longer have any (legitimate) excuses not to follow through with my AugBlogWriMo. Opera is finished, work is (slightly) less crazy, and school hasn't started yet. So, that means technically I have all the time in the world to write a blog post every day.

Yeah, right.

I spent most of my free time today reading other people's blogs (and listening to the awesome new music my sister home shared with me...), and wondering how it is that so many of them manage to blog on a regular, if not daily, basis. Granted, there is the occasional blog that is withering like a dehydrated cactus in the desert of writer's block (or perfectionism, or whatever).

Occasionally, you even find a dead blog. Maybe I'm morbid, but I find those dead blogs kind of funny. I mean, it's so ironic when you read the last posts on those poor deceased blogs, before they wandered into the expansive deserts of inactivity, and finally collapsed and expired in the sweltering heat of Real Life. Nine times out of ten, those last posts are a final cry of 'I promise to blog here more often if...'

Ah ha! And there's the culprit!

IF...

It's the IF that does them in, I'm sure! As soon as you let IF in- that tiny little word of indecision- you are doomed! IF is the first step on the road into that lonely wilderness filled with dead blogs. IF is the beginning of the end of all will-power and fortitude.  IF has been known to reduce mighty fortresses to rubble, to turn a brilliant plan into a ridiculously stupid idea, to...

Well, you get the idea.

I almost wish someone would post a sign outside of the place where IF dwells. It should say something foreboding, almost Vader-like in it's terrifying-ness. It should be painted in bold red letters, and put where you can't miss it...

"WARNING! Do NOT enter here! Turn back now IF you value your Blog!"

Okay, okay... I know I used the Word-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, but I couldn't help it! It fit so perfectly!

But I promise not to become one of those dried-out, abandoned skeletons of a Blog-That-Was. I will continue to be a Blog-That-Is. Come hell or high water.

Now, IF only I could find something to write about...

EDIT: Because I couldn't spell desert properly... I blame the ice cream I was eating...

Now For Some Peace and Quiet...

The opera is now over! After a very successful second performance (in which I did dance the ballet perfectly... about time...), the lights went out on Die Fledermaus. The set was taken down, costumes were packed away and props were returned to the proper storage closet... at least until February! It seems a local theatre has asked our company to do two encore performances at the beginning of next year! Exciting!

In other news, yesterday was the feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Mother. August 15th traditionally marks the return of the choir after our summer break, and I must say that we made a very triumphant return for Our Lady's feast day. We sang Palestrina's Missa Ave Maria, as well as his Ave Maria motet. Just absolutely glorious music...

I was exceptionally pleased, because this year marks my return to the Soprano section, after many years of singing Alto. I learned a good deal while being an inside voice, but it felt so much better to be singing where my voice naturally lies. It was the first time in a long time that I wasn't vocally fatigued by the time Mass was over. *contented sigh*

More importantly, a very good friend of our family came to Mass yesterday with his children. This is a very big deal, because although my 'Uncle' has always been a Traditionalist and Catholic, when all of the confusion happened in the late 80's - early 90's, he went with the SSPV (Society of Saint Pius the Fifth). For many, many years he and my Dad would have debates over the validity of the New Mass, the ambiguity of Vatican II, and more disturbingly, the validity of the current Pontiff. (For those who aren't familiar with the SSPV, they are sede vecantists, which means that they believe the 'seat is vacant' or that the current Pope isn't the Pope at all.)

We always remained on good terms with him, although Dad was always trying to help him realise that what he believed wasn't the truth. Mom and I always clung to the fact that Uncle and his family said the Rosary. We were sure that as long as they still said their Aves every day, they couldn't help but to find the right road again. So, I'm sure you can imagine our surprise and utter joy when Uncle called to find out when our Mass times were- just in time for the Feast of the Assumption, too!!!

It took about 20 years to happen, but Uncle has finally realised that the SSPV's position isn't true to the Church at all, despite their claims of being the 'true' Catholics. For me, it is a very strong testimony to the power of the Rosary.

All things can be accomplished with the help of the Blessed Mother, for what good son can refuse the requests of his mother, especially when she is the Most Perfect Mother and He is the Most Perfect Son?

Our Lady of the Holy Rosary, ora pro nobis!

Ugh!

I can't believe I last posted on TUESDAY!!!

Does the fact that this was tech week for the opera, as well as opening weekend, excuse me even a little bit?

Eh... I doubt it.

I'm not excusing myself, in any case.

*sigh*

Tech week has gone well, however busy it may have been, and opening night was fantastic. We had a very receptive audience- they laughed at all the jokes, appreciated the ballet (which I finally got right... mostly), and loved the singing. It was a nice payoff for all of the hard work we've been doing. Now there's only one performance left tomorrow night, and then life will settle down for two short weeks before school starts again.

It's a good feeling, knowing I'll be to bed at a decent hour for a change. Or at least until Sophomore year begins...

In other news, I finally figured out the ending to the angst-y piece that was driving me crazy. Yahoo!! *does happy dance* I'm so thankful to feel like I've got a bit of my sanity back.

I was a little worried about publishing the piece however, because it is pretty dark and very creepy. Intrinsically, that's not so much a problem, except that the darkness and creepiness centers around a much-loved character and focuses on a recent development that hasn't gone over so well with most of the fan-base.

I did post it yesterday all the same, and so far the reception has been pretty good. *crosses fingers*

Those who like Star Wars and/or are interested in perusing my vignette can find it here: What the Heart Longs For- http://boards.theforce.net/beyond_the_saga/b10477/31169687/p1/?9

Grave news...

Sunday at Mass, Father Braveheart announced something terrible and terrifying.

It seems that someone broke into a local Catholic Church with the sole intention of stealing the Blessed Sacrament. The thief entered the church through a window, opened the tabernacle and stole the ciborium containing the Holy Eucharist. They did not take anything else from the church, although there were plenty of other valuable items. The theft of the Blessed Sacrament desecrated the church and the bishop had to re-consecrate the parish.

The news was utterly shocking and, even now, thinking about it makes me want to cry. Clearly, whoever stole the Blessed Sacrament has dark purposes, the likes of which I don't even want to imagine.

Satanism isn't something that I think about often (which is good), but when it does come up, there's always this feeling of detachment. It's like I always thought, "Oh, it'll never happen here. It can't really happen that often, anyway."

But now that this has happened in my own backyard... ugh. It makes me shiver.

And it makes me wonder... if the Satanists believe in the True Presence, why do so many Catholics deny Our Lord? Especially when the Great Mystery of Transubstantiation is central to our Faith?

My heart is so heavy...

----

The Divine Praises
(To be said in reparation for blasphemy and profanity)


Blessed be God.
Blessed be His Holy Name.
Blessed be Jesus Christ, true God and true man.
Blessed be the name of Jesus.
Blessed be His Most Sacred Heart.
Blessed be Jesus in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.
Blessed be the Holy Spirit, the Paraclete.
Blessed be the great Mother of God, Mary most holy.
Blessed be her holy and Immaculate Conception.
Blessed be her glorious Assumption.
Blessed be the name of Mary, Virgin and Mother.
Blessed be Saint Joseph, her most chaste spouse.
Blessed be God in His angels and in His Saints.

May the heart of Jesus, in the Most Blessed Sacrament, be praised, adored, and loved with grateful affection, at every moment, in all the tabernacles of the world, even to the end of time. Amen.

Exhaustion...

...seems par for the course this weekend.

I am so exhausted after today's rehearsal. Three and a half hours of singing, one hour of ballet rehearsal and then an hour or so to assemble the set.

Yeah. I'm beat.

Hopefully I'll have more energy for a longer post tomorrow... sorry.

Again...

trying to sneak a post before midnight.

I completely missed a post for Friday, unfortunately, but what's one day lost, right? If I manage to get to the end of August and I've only missed one day, I shall be very happy.

This weekend has been completely insane. And that's not a bad thing at all! It's been full of awesomeness thus far, and tomorrow promises to be more of the same.

Friday, I worked all day, but it was a slow day at work. And while I didn't use the free time to blog, I did, however, manage to get rid of one of the plot bunnies gnawing on my brain.

My muse has been throwing really weird ideas and challenges at me, and I'm not sure what to think. First it was the 'fic in second person (which I'm still working on), then it was the extreme angst piece (which I just got back from the beta [YAY!]), and now there's this newest one, which is in third person, present tense. Gah! Talk about confusing and difficult! It's even harder than second person, I think.

I'm not quite done with the piece either. I wrote a solid four pages, and I think it's pretty good, but I know there's more story to tell. I'm thinking the piece may have a few installments, given the complexities of the plot line and such. It's actually a promising little thing, if I do say so myself.

Anyway, after work, I drove an hour for ballet rehearsal and then drove back home to have a (late) dinner with my sister and a friend. I didn't get home until 12 o'clock, and I was beat, so blogging was the furthest thing from my mind. The only thing I could think was "Sleep... pillow... zzzz."

This morning, I intended to take full advantage of the fact that I could sleep in, but I was wide awake at 8am. I stayed in bed for another half hour, but then my stomach was crying very loudly for food, so I pulled myself out of bed. I'm glad I did, because it meant that I got to have tea with Scot! A very good morning, indeed!

After tea and breakfast, I did about an hour of ballet practice, did some cleaning, and then I had to head out. I stopped and got the pink ballet slippers I needed for the Opera and then went to my voice lesson, which was amazing as usual. I've been making so much rapid progress, and it's doing wonders for my confidence. Deo gratias!

Then I had to go grocery shopping for a few last minute things for tonight's dinner party. My awesome friend, Nini, came over and made authentic Chinese food. The company consisted of myself, Nini, my sister, Husband and two of our priests, Fr. Braveheart (the young, Scottish priest) and The Man In Black. (The Man In Black also sometimes goes by Fr. Wesley... both names are given because he can quote the entirety of The Princess Bride. And he does all the voices, too!!)

It was a very good time and Nini's cooking was spectacular! I don't think I've had such a good meal in a very long time. It wish I could say something more than that it was fantastic... but there are no words to describe the awesomeness of her cooking. Yum!

I made dessert, which was quite fun. To keep with the Chinese theme and to keep the dessert light after such a heavy dinner, Nini and I decided on Fried Wonton with ice cream. Then, I tweaked the recipe to make it even more fun and original. After frying the wonton wrappers, I dipped them in cinnamon and sugar. Then, I scooped the vanilla ice cream on top of the wontons (2 per serving, since they're small), and drizzled caramel on top. It made for a very artistic presentation, and it tasted terrific. The best part was that it was so easy to make!

It really was the perfect ending to a perfect meal with absolutely splendid company.

Hopefully I'll have more time to blog tomorrow... but for now, I'm off to bed. I must be up early for Mass!

Rushing...

...to make the post before midnight. ;)

Today was another long, busy day at work, and then it was off to Opera Rehearsal right away, again. It really stinks that the company I'm singing with is a whole hour away. Those two hours of driving really cuts into blogging time. C'est la vie.

Not much exciting happened today. I did get bitten by another plot bunny and this time the whole 'fic is in my head, but it's making me moody and pensive until I can get it out on paper. I'm not sure why everything I'm writing lately has been angst... I should probably try to write something more lighthearted and funny to break things up...

I have been meaning to share this link with you all for the last week, but I kept forgetting to post it or I haven't had time. The story that follows is very cool and extremely edifying. There are some skeptics that will try to pass it off as superstition and an over active imagination, but I don't think it made international news by happen-stance. Divine Providence is trying to remind us all of the power of prayer, and especially the power of Our Lady's Psalter. Perhaps the story struck home for me because I lost a cousin to a landmine in Afghanistan no more than a month ago...

All the same...Our lady of the Rosary, ora pro nobis!

Soldier Saved By Rosary 

Quick post...

...because I'm too tired for anything more.

Today was a killer day if there ever was one. Things just never stopped. And yes, I know it's after midnight, so technically I've missed a day of blogging. But you know what? I haven't gone to bed yet, so to me this is still today, not tomorrow. It won't be tomorrow until I wake up in the morning. So I'm counting this as today's post, regardless, and technicalities can go jump in a lake.

So there.

Interruptions...

... they're multiplying like rabbits!

It seems I'm going to have to really manage my time well if I'm actually going to complete a whole month of blogging... Interruptions keep springing up where ever I turn!

Work has been exceptionally busy lately and tonight I had to leave from work right away to drive to Opera rehearsal...

I'm stealing a few minutes during break to write the post... and already I have to go! Places!!\

More later!!

In Which An Account Is Made...

... of Soaring Soprano's Reading List.

So, now it is Day Two of AugBlogWriMo... and already I'm out of topics. Okay, well maybe that's an exaggeration. I do have things to blog about, but some of them are borderline on complaining, and if there is anything I don't want this blog to become it's that- an online outlet for my (oftentimes ridiculous) frustrations. As it is, complaining is hardly a good habit to get into, because it usually indicates that we're not accepting the crosses that we've been given as our means to sanctity. As the wonderful Jean-Pierre de Caussade points out in Abandonment to Divine Providence,

"...to attain the utmost height of perfection, the safest and surest way is to accept the crosses sent [them] by Providence at every moment, that the true philosopher's stone is submission to the will of God which changes into divine gold all [their] occupations, troubles, and sufferings..."

But despite this lovely bit of spiritual reading, I do still have the tendency to complain... but I'm determined not to do it here. When speaking with friends, however, things get a bit trickier, as evidenced by a conversation I had with a good friend of mine earlier this evening.

"I don't know what to write about..." I sighed via GoogleChat. (My friend lives on the other side of the pond [Scotland to be exact, and by virtue of this he will gain the appropriate, although hardly original, nickname of Scot for the purposes of this blog], and so Google has become the most convenient and inexpensive forum for our conversations.)

Anyway, I sighed, to which Scot very kindly replied that he was sure I'd find something. "You always seem to cover your bases," he said and despite the distance I could hear the confidence in that statement, for which I was grateful. (Sometimes GoogleChat is invaluable for increasing your self-esteem...)

So, I promptly started wracking my brain for ideas. I almost decided to do a bit of blogging about Husband, who was trying to eat an artichoke for the first time without knowing what he was about. It was quite hilarious to watch him actually, but I hid my snorts of stifled laughter behind the screen of my netbook. No, no extensive blogging about Husband today... it wouldn't be charitable, even if he was laughing about it too.

I went back to the drawing board again for about another thirty minutes or so... And then I had a scathingly brilliant idea and started collecting the necessary materials...

At which point in time, Scot pinged me again on GoogleChat. "How's it going?" he asked.

I bit my lip. "Okaaayyy..." (Oh, yes. I was going to be mysterious and hesitant.)

"What does that mean?" (Hee hee, I could feel the tension already getting to him.)

"It means," I replied, baiting the hook, "that I'm doing research..." (I couldn't help smirking to myself at this point. Scot is a very academic type of guy, into reading ancient manuscripts written in obscure languages and stuff, so research is like... well, I'm not sure what it's like, but it's pretty awesome.)

"NOW I'm intrigued!" he exclaimed, grinning. (And yes, I know he was grinning; one, because he's Scot and two, because he typed it. In bold font actually, like this: grins)

So, amidst all this intrigue, I really did discover what I meant to write about tonight, and I promise I'm getting to it. And, wait for it... here it comes...

SoaringSoprano's Reading List

I've always got a bunch of books that I read simultaneously, and so my idea is to blog a bit about what I'm reading. It'll help give me stuff to blog about for the next month, and maybe I'll even finish a few of them by the time September rolls around.


1. I've already mentioned Book #1, which is actually my *coughdailycough* spiritual reading: Abandonment to Divine Providence by Jean-Pierre de Caussade. My parish priest had recommended it to me when he learned that I had enjoyed Conformity to God's Will by St. Alphonsus Liguiori. Both are full of fantastic little bits that you can mull over all day... which is the whole point of spiritual reading, I suppose.

2. Trianon by Elena Marie Vidal. Now, this is a fantastic little gem. It's an account of the events leading up to the French Revolution, centered, of course, on Queen Marie Antoinette. The refreshing part is that the story has been carefully researched and for a change we can see the life of the Queen and her husband, King Louis XVI, from a truly Catholic perspective. And what a perspective! Nowhere are their faults excused or the mistakes that were made glossed over. Rather, they are addressed honestly and straightforwardly, but through the light of grace and Catholicism.

This is probably my fourth time reading the historical novel, and I love it even more every time I read it. Last night I got through the Prologue and Chapter One. What's interesting is that Vidal changes the point-of-view every chapter, giving a multi-faceted view of the Royal couple. The Prologue is from the perspective of Madame Elisabeth Vigée-Lebrun, who was the portrait painter of Marie-Antoinette, while Chapter One is from the viewpoint of Madame Louise of France (Louis XVI's aunt), who was also known as Mother Thérése of St. Augustine.

Each of these characters reveal interesting little pieces of information: Vigée-Lebrun muses about the change in the Queen over the years, how her eyes changed from being "large, bright and expressionless" to having "a warmth, a light, a genuine amiability," which the young painter attributes to the Queen's love and approaching motherhood.

Madame Louise prays for her nephew and his bride, contemplating the difficulties the couple are facing. She remembers how her heart went out to the pair when Louis XV died, and the twenty-year-olds fell to their knees, weeping, and begging God to save them because they were too young to reign. And still, thirteen years later, Madame Louise knows they are still scared and beset with troubles and decides to send them brown scapulars and Sacred Heart badges, knowing of the Royal couple's devotion.

3. Okay, well, I need a little segue before revealing the last book, which will come in the form of more dialogue between Scot and I, since it is more than fitting. (Honestly, the double meaning here was intentional... but he didn't know that.)

"I want to work out what you're doing!" Scot says, grinning again. (Oh yeah, the research bit really got to him... go me!)

I laughed. "I'm glad your curiosity is piqued..." I replied, smiling mysteriously.

He grins again. "So am I..." (Aww, how cute! But now, for the set-up...)

I laughed again. "You may be disappointed however..." (Oh, I'm clever...)

Scot shoots me a wry smirk. "I rarely am." (Well, I'll admit it. I giggled at that.)

"Well, don't get your hopes up too high..." I warned. (I was grinning like a Cheshire cat by this point.)

And I really meant it... because you do know what they say about Great Expectations, after all... (I'm so witty sometimes...)

So yes, Book #3 is Charles Dickens' Great Expectations. I've never read the book before. I've only seen the film adaptation with Ioan Gruffudd and Justine Waddell, which I enjoyed, despite the very Dickensian weirdness in places. So, I'm going to tackle the novel finally and see if I can't get my head around it.

I read the first two chapters today, and I must say, for all the complaining I did about Dickens and his descriptions while in High School, I'm really enjoying them now. He's not just describing stuff for the sake of filling up page space. His descriptions manage to lend flavour to the scenery and insight into the characters. My favourite by far is Pip's description of his sister, Mrs. Joe:

"My sister, Mrs. Joe, with black hair and eyes, had such a prevailing redness of skin that I sometimes used to wonder whether it was possible she washed herself with a nutmeg-grater instead of soap. She was tall and bony, and almost always wore a coarse apron, fastened over her figure behind with two loops, and having a square impregnable bib in front that was stuck full of pins and needles."

 In one short paragraph, Pip establishes for the reader that his sister is not a very refined woman. She's rough and ready, and the pins and needles in her apron very subtly set up the sharpness and prickliness of  her personality. Mrs. Joe certainly isn't a very lovable person, at all...

I couldn't help laughing at Pip's descriptions of things either, as his voice seems so fully to have captured that of a young boy. The narration aptly puts you into the world of this young boy and the uncomfortableness with the circumstances he's found himself in. The best bit, in my opinion, is the relationship between Joe and Pip, the silent camaraderie of two men who both suffer under the iron rule of Mrs. Joe. It's just priceless and an honest picture of human interaction.

And I think that it's time for me to end this very long blog post. Honestly, I applaud anyone who actually read it all the way to this point...

Here I had nothing to write and now I've got a post a million pages long! Oh, the irony...

I'm back...

... but not without some troubles.

After a lovely dinner with the relatives, my sister, my cousin and I went to go see Charlie St. Cloud.

It was actually a very good film, all considered. Characters were well developed, the plot moved along well, the cinematography was beautiful, and the acting was really well done. There was an implied sexual encounter and some kissing, but otherwise the film was surprisingly clean. There was no religious blasphemy and there were actually some very pleasing religious overtones, which was kind of surprising. The religious aspect of the story was definitely toned down, but seeing as how it does play a pivotal part in the plot, it still had a large impact on the story as a whole.

It makes me want to go search out the book at the library, which may not be a bad idea, actually...

...blast. A quick search reveals that there is only one copy in the library system, and it is checked out.  So, I guess I'll have to wait. I'm really just curious to see if the Catholicism hinted at in the movie is more prominent in the novel... never mind the fact that often times the book is much better than the film.

Anyway, I'm back from the film, and I have more time for a longer blog post! Yay!

Even still, I'm feeling conspired against. I got on the laptop when I got home to find that the ISP was totally flaking out and wouldn't let me connect. I'll admit that I had a very tiny moment of freaking out, but then I remembered that I had posted the mini-post, and it's hardly my fault if the internet provider decides to be stupid. So, I took a deep breath, offered it up for some poor soul in Purgatory, and did some other work on my netbook.

And what do I find twenty minutes later? The internet has been restored, and I can write this blog post! God is good, is He not?

I feel like I'm kind of floundering with this post, however... It's probably because I have so much to say and also probably because of the nice glass of Catawba wine that I'm currently enjoying. I think I've decided that wine and blogging go very well together, actually. Almost as well as blogging and tea go together... Well, except for the wandering bit, but I suppose that can't be helped.

And before I do any more meandering though the random shuffle of information that is my brain, I am going to bid all and sundry a good night. I shall now finish my wine, read a good book, and go to sleep.

I'll see you all tomorrow, God willing!

Day 1 of AugBlogWriMo...

...and already I'm being derailed.

I meant to blog after lunch, but after our busy weekend (which I shall report about later), I couldn't help falling asleep. Then again, I probably shouldn't have stretched out on the comfy black sofa amidst a bunch of pillows either... *sheepish grin*

And now, I'm off to have dinner with some relatives and possibly head to the cinemas. I'm hoping to be back at a reasonable enough hour to blog when I get back, but just in case I don't, this short post is proof that I at least intended to write a longer, more worthy post!

And now I'm off!