Exciting News of Various Kinds!!!

So... yeah, I've been slacking off on my blogging, yet again. This time, however, I have a really good excuse!

So, when I last posted, I mentioned the recital I was preparing for. Well, for those who are interested in knowing, the recital went beautifully! In the days leading up to it I was ridiculously busy. My partner, (A baritone I shall nickname Barry for the purposes of this blog) Barry, and I spent a lot of time practicing amidst our already busy schedules as teachers. We rehearsed together, we rehearsed with the pianist, we rehearsed on our own. We practiced at my house, at my University, as his University (where he teaches), at the music school where we both teach, and at the venue for our recital.

When we weren't rehearsing, we were making translations for the texts we were singing- French, Spanish, German, Italian- and typing up the translation sheets to give to the audience. In addition, we designed and printed the programs, which took us until almost 2 am one night, both of us working together via Google Voice Chat and Google Docs (Have I mentioned how much I love Google?) to get the program finished. We experimented with type settings, formats, program orders, tweaked our bios, and surfed around (with much laughter and goofing around, I'll admit) for the perfect picture to adorn the front of our programs.

Then, I had to run about for my recital gown: buying new character shoes, doing the dress fitting, picking up the dress after the fitting, picking up the necessary essentials to go with the gown, playing around with different updos for my somewhat short hair. (What can I say? This was my debut recital. I wasn't going to do it halfway.)

Finally, the big day arrived. After singing at our respective churches for Sunday Mass, Barry and I met early to do the last minute preparations and run through some last minute changes with the pianist. Then, I got into my new gown, did my hair and makeup, and we waited backstage for the audience to finish arriving and for the clock to strike 3.

I won't say too much about the recital itself here, because I plan on posting clips from the recording as well as plenty of pictures. I will say, however, that it went exceptionally well. All of our loved ones came out to support us and then some. We both sang exceptionally well, the audience told us that we moved them, and we had a great time. We got a standing ovation at the end and everything!!

Most importantly, at the last minute, Barry and I learned that they would be recording the recital for broadcasting on our local NPR station!!!!

I could hardly believe it!! I still don't believe it, but the sound technicians were there, and they'll be sending us a copy of the recital for us to review before it gets put on the air! I also learned that our station streams live online, so when I know when the concert will be aired, I'll be certain to post the info here so that anyone who is interested can tune in! :D

After the recital was over, it was time to decompress a little, as the week or two before had been more than hectic.

(Oh! And in the middle of all the preparations, I had my 25th birthday!)

This week has been a lot more subdued and I've been able to focus a lot more on my coursework. I also got to pick out some new repertoire to fiddle with for the rest of the semester and some of it is really fun!

Now, for some more exciting news: I got to speak with Scot over the weekend and we had a lovely chat about how his study of the Faith is going (he's been wanting to become a Catholic for quite some time now). The happiest news of all was to learn that he may possibly be coming into the Church during Holy Week! If this is indeed the case, Husband and I will be going to Scotland for Easter to celebrate Scot's happy day with him. It isn't certain just yet, but I should know definitely by tomorrow the latest. In any case, we've already been prepping in case it does indeed happen, and things seems to be falling perfectly in place. Husband has been able to get the necessary days off of work, we were able to find reasonably priced airline tickets, and even my teaching schedule for the days we'd be gone straightened themselves out rather easily.

My question to my readers in the UK: Know of any good places to stay while we're in Edinburgh? Stuff to do? :D

Finally, I'd ask your prayers for Scot as he prepares for his entrance into the Church (whenever it may be). Thank you!!

Food for Thought & A Prayer Request

Thanks to Fr. Z for this lovely reading- The Centurion's Prayer- Domine Non Sum Dignus

Also, please pray for two families from my parish. Tragedy has struck both of them in less than two weeks time...

The first lost their youngest son, John Matthew, who was only 6 months old. He died unexpectedly in his sleep.

Also, I learned that this morning the second family lost their 6 week old infant daughter- the first after several boys. Mary Catherine Elizabeth also died in her sleep.

Please pray that the Lord may strengthen these families in their time of suffering and loss.

As Catholics, it is of great consolation to know that these recently baptised souls are now seeing the Beatific Vision and can pray on our behalf.

St. John Matthew, ora pro nobis.

St. Mary Catherine Elizabeth, ora pro nobis.

Favoritism!? You don't say!

Alas, one of the greatest ills plaguing academia is favoritism.

I've always been staunchly opposed to it, even when I've been on the positive end of such nonsense. It does nothing for anyone, if you ask me. And personally, I'd rather come by a reward by my hard work, instead of merely because I knew the right person. I suppose my attitude is a nod to the Christian work ethic my wonderful parents instilled in me, but it's also only fair.

I suppose I've been naive, however, in thinking that others, especially those at a Catholic University, would hold that same ethic. Which makes some of the recent events at my University even more hurtful.

It's not right or fair to intentionally undercut someone's confidence and hard work. It is not right to only criticise one's students and never give an ounce of praise. It is equally unfair to only praise and never correct honest faults. As a teacher, I feel obligated to make available to my students every tool they need in order to fulfill their goals-- it is what they pay me for, after all, and they deserve my encouragement and support-- and happy will be the day when all teachers feel and acknowledge this same obligation.

However, principles set aside, one can learn from such hurtful and unfair circumstances. Confidence can be rebuilt, faith in oneself can grow, and those who truly care for your well-being can be discerned. All with grace, of course.

That being said, I shall hold my head up high, dust off my battered confidence, resolve to work harder and to become better than before, with the help of God. It is He, after all, who picks our crosses and He who knows what is best for us at any moment in time. I can only pray for the strength to carry my cross well and cheerfully, and in a spirit of humility.

To aid me in this difficult task, I rely on God's grace, especially those granted by reciting the following Litany:

Litany of Humility

O Jesus! meek and humble of heart, Hear me.
From the desire of being esteemed,
Deliver me, Jesus.
 
From the desire of being loved...
From the desire of being extolled ...
From the desire of being honored ...
From the desire of being praised ...
From the desire of being preferred to others...
From the desire of being consulted ...
From the desire of being approved ...
From the fear of being humiliated ...
From the fear of being despised...
From the fear of suffering rebukes ...
From the fear of being calumniated ...
From the fear of being forgotten ...
From the fear of being ridiculed ...
From the fear of being wronged ...
From the fear of being suspected ...

That others may be loved more than I,
Jesus, grant me the grace to desire it.

That others may be esteemed more than I ...
That, in the opinion of the world,
others may increase and I may decrease ...
That others may be chosen and I set aside ...
That others may be praised and I unnoticed ...
That others may be preferred to me in everything...
That others may become holier than I, provided that I may become as holy as I should…

Rafael Cardinal Merry del Val (1865-1930),
Secretary of State for Pope Saint Pius X

A New Nifty Blog Gadget... For Advent!

Many thanks to Mulier Fortis who drew attention to the very neat Gadget that is now adorning the right side of the screen.

The Advent wreath comes from The Curt Jester and it will even light more candles as Advent progresses!

So far so good with my Advent resolutions, although I almost forgot about the dessert one at supper. I almost said "Yes" to the .99 bakery treat when the Panera cashier asked me if I wanted to add one to my order. Thankfully, my Guardian Angel gave me a swift nudge and disaster was avoided.

The Beginning of Advent

Over at Father Z's Blog, there's a discussion about what Catholics are doing during the season of "joyful penitence"- Advent.

This got me thinking about what I was planning to do to make this a spiritually fulfilling Advent. At the moment, I had nothing in mind at all. Sadly, it's been a long while since I've done any kind of "penance" during Advent.

One year, while still a teenager, I gave up yelling at my siblings. You see, I come from a very large and very loud family, so this was a fault I struggled with greatly. Through the grace of God, I managed to hold fast to that resolution, and it helped me to effectively establish a good habit that still helps me today.

I also remember one year when my Grandfather was seriously ill. For some reason, there was some concern that he would die without receiving the Last Rites (the exact circumstances evade me). That year I said the St. Andrew's Novena with the request that he would not die without the Sacraments. Through God's great mercy and St. Andrew's gracious intercession, he passed away the following January having received Extreme Unction in the Traditional Rite.

This particular memory reminded me of the St. Andrew's prayer, which I had forgotten about for a good while. (I will be posting it below for anyone who is interested in invoking the aid of this great Saint.) It also helped me to figure out what my Advent penance will be.

1. Give up sweets.
2. Say the Saint Andrew's Prayer.
3. Say my morning and evening offering DAILY. (I've been sadly remiss about both...)

All three things will be offered for a particular intention, and being that it is a meaningful intention to me, I hope that it will make Number 1 a bit easier for me to manage. (I have a horrible sweet tooth...)

Thankfully, today is also the Feast of St. Andrew, and the day the prayer starts. Kudos to my Guardian Angel for pointing me in the right direction today!

St. Andrew Christmas Novena

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment in which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight, in Bethlehem, in piercing cold. In that hour, vouchsafe, O my God! to hear my prayer and grant my desires, (mention request here) through the merits of Our Savior Jesus Christ, and of His Blessed Mother. Amen.

It is piously believed that whoever recites the above prayer fifteen times a day from the feast of St. Andrew (30th November) until Christmas will obtain what is asked.

Imprimatur
+MICHAEL AUGUSTINE, Archbishop of New York
New York, February 6, 1897

True Love... :)

Oh, I have been remiss with my blog once again... *sigh*

I apologize, dear readers, from the bottom of my heart. Unfortunately, however, life has been rather topsy-turvy of late... and not just because of NaNoWriMo.

Last Wednesday, my Dad was re-admitted into the hospital because they found numerous blood clots. They promptly put him on blood thinners and put a nifty strainer-like object into his vein to catch said blood clots. For a good day or so, he was still in grave danger, because he had an adverse reaction to the blood thinner they had put him on... and of course an adverse reaction to a blood thinner means that your blood clots instead of unclotting.

Gah.

The local hospital couldn't get things straightened out, so the doctors in Philadelphia had him transported ASAP back to where they could watch over him. Thankfully, once there, they were able to start getting things back under control. This also meant that my poor mother could start relaxing a bit. She was quite nervous about the treatment that Dad was getting from the local hospital, and it was difficult to pry her away from Dad's bedside.

Graciously, the hospital in Philadelphia has allowed her to stay with Dad in his room while they are there, which has made her much more calm and happy.

Meanwhile, I moved back home to become Mom and Dad for my 8 younger siblings. At first this was a fun adventure, being that I've missed spending time with them since I moved away to be closer to my University. However, this meant that I had a 45 minute commute to school and work everyday, and my already busy schedule now included taking care of a small army of people when I got home.

At this point, all I can say is that I don't know how my Mother manages on a daily basis. I really appreciate all that she does now, knowing how challenging it is (especially when the baby won't settle down at night unless sharing the bed with you, and then behaving like a pancake all night, flip-flopping all over the place, keeping you only on the verge of sleep, as you're deathly afraid of him diving off the edge of the bed).

I also know why God gives us children one at a time, instead of all at once! Lol!

Praise be to God, though, for helping us all through this difficult time. I'm so happy with how well the children have all pulled together and worked hard to get along and helped me to keep things running smoothly (which was tricky considering that I still had to go to school and to work for most of the day).

Even better, is that Mom just called to let me know that the doctors have finally released Dad, and they'll be coming home tonight! The blood clots aren't all gone yet, and he's still got quite a few in his lungs (at one point he had 85% blood loss to his right lung), but they've got the medication regulated and he should only need to check in with his local physician to keep things status quo.

It's going to be so great to have them back home. We've all missed them immensely.

What's most beautiful about this whole ordeal is to see how my parents have handled it all. My Mother has been especially devoted and Dad's been a pillar of strength for her and for us all, despite all of the scary stuff that's been going on with his body. They've both relied on prayer and grace through everything and supported one another through this time of great difficulty. And amidst all of this, they celebrated their 25th Wedding Anniversary on Tuesday.

I don't think I can think of any other couple in my life who have more perfectly lived out their Nuptial vows.

It's truly a beautiful thing to be edified by the example set by one's own parents and I thank God for them everyday.

Feeling like George Bailey...

The response to my rushed prayer request last week has been tremendous, and I have to thank you all so much for your prayers and sacrifices on my father's behalf. I know things wouldn't have gone half so well had it not been for the power of prayer.

To recap the insanity of the last six days:

Early last week, my Dad was having severe back pain that he was attributing to the compressed discs he has in his spine. However, on Tuesday the pain went away and suddenly his left leg was numb from the knee down. His doctor, becoming concerned, sent him for an MRI.

Wednesday afternoon, the doctor called a few hours after the MRI had been taken and asked my parents to come back to his office. On the MRI they found two tumors on my dad's spinal column. Thank goodness, the doctor immediately got them an appointment with the top neurosurgeon at Penn Hospital in Philadelphia, PA.

At this point, I had sent out my initial prayer request as well as posting on Facebook and emailing the members of our parish. The phone calls and emails and text messages immediately started pouring in. Our pastor immediately organized an Forty Hours' Devotion, friends came to watch the small children so that my sister and I could travel to Philadelphia to be with our parents, hundreds of rosaries were offered by people around the world, Masses were said by many priests, my teachers and colleagues took over my students and excused me from classes, and everyone just generally went out of their way to make this difficult time as easy as they could for us.

Thursday morning, my parents made it to Philadelphia, and had their appointment with the doctor, which they assumed was just a consultation. The neurosurgeon said that my Dad had to go in for immediate surgery in order to prevent any other nerve damage.

Friday morning, my Dad went in for surgery. My sister and I raced to Philadelphia to be with my mother, who was taking all of this very hard. The last time I spoke to Dad before the surgery, he told me that I had to be strong for Mom. He was fine and we weren't to worry about him, but we had to help Mom keep it together.

Dad was in surgery for 15 hours. It was the longest day of my life.

Friday night, after he got out, we were permitted to see him in the ICU ward. He was awake and lucid and already joking around. When we told him about all of the prayers and help, he was very touched (one of the few times I'm seen him teary eyed) and he said that he felt like George Bailey, and that he hoped he deserved it.

Although they caused nerve damage and filled his spinal cavity, the tumors were not cancerous, which was the biggest concern. They weren't able to remove all of the tumor, because some of it was on nerves that were too dangerous to touch, but the neurosurgeon assured us that they were able to remove 90 or more percent of it.

Saturday, Dad was required to lay on his back for 24 hours, but he was awake, and they already had him eating regular food again. Sunday morning, they had him up on his feet and walking around. The speed of his recovery is really amazing!

Dad still has no feeling in his left leg, and the paralysis has moved up to his hip. He's going to have a limp and probably have to use a cane, but we're all so happy that that's the only negative outcome of this ordeal.

We just got the results of his full spinal MRI and there isn't any sign of tumors anywhere else, which is making us all deliriously happy. I'm confident that things only have gone so well because of everyone's prayers and kindness!

Dad will be released to go home tomorrow afternoon, and I think he'll be more than happy to be home. Already, he's on the phone- business as usual!

We feel so incredibly blessed, and my Dad thanks everyone from the bottom of his heart.

God has been very good to us and the power of the Rosary has triumphed!

Thank you all again, so very much!!!

----

Here are some photos from Philadelphia. My sister and I coaxed my mom out of the hospital for a bit to try and help her take her mind off of things:

The inscription from the cornerstone of Pennsylvania Hospital. I find it kind of ironic that Benjamin Franklin is who wrote this, especially considering the first, third, and fourth lines.

City Hall- Philadelphia, PA

The beautiful Bed & Breakfast in which we stayed. It was 1/2 a block from the hospital and the innkeeper, Kathy, was so incredibly helpful and compassionate.

My cocktail at lunch to help clear up my laryngitis. LOL.

When we stepped out for Mass on Sunday morning- Check out St. Paul's Parish in Philadelphia, PA! The church is lovely and the priest says a beautiful Latin Mass!- we saw this nice old Corvette on our way. We took pictures to show Dad, although I think Mom wants it more than he does! ;)

Ritz-Carlton, Downtown Philadelphia

A bit of nerdiness on my part- Darth Vader helmet in the window of a very awesome comic book shop. :D

They had Boba Fett, too! I would have taken a pic of the TIE Fighter Pilot helmet, but my battery went dead.

And finally, but most importantly, my Dad (love him SO much), as of this afternoon (only three days after major surgery!) He's already back to work!!

Dealing with Disappointment

What is it about disappointment? Why does it sometimes roll off of you and other times blast a hole in your heart? And why is it that, even when we're intellectually determined to just let something go, the sting of disappointment still brings tears to your eyes?

Is it because you're being selfish? You can't have what you want and so your selfish heart rebels?

Or is it because you're being selfless? You place your trust and hope in another person, build them up, encourage them, and your heart just aches because you can't stand to see them hurting when all the preparations come to naught?

I don't know. I suppose there are, indeed, two sides to why disappointment can hurt so much.

How about when you've been repeatedly disappointed about the same thing for months on end, and each time you reply with a smile and reassure yourself that it'll be better next time? You keep your chin up time after time, and then one day, you just can't take it anymore. You can't pick yourself up again, and, try as you might, you can't fight the inner anguish that threatens to tear you apart.

What then? What was it that was the final straw? Why was it this time that the disappointment finally dragged you down?

I can't figure it out, honestly. Maybe I'm not supposed to.

But today I learned something about disappointment.

I was driving to work, after having been disappointed over a silly, trivial little thing. I was trying to fight the cold bitterness I was feeling and trying to hold back the tears that welled in my eyes. It was complete nonsense, of course, but it still hurt. A lot. It was almost ridiculous how much I was bothered by what had happened.

I was frustrated with myself for feeling this way; for being, despite my best efforts, a slave to the hormonal surges and emotions that were threatening to reduce me to an irrational, blubbering mess, smeared mascara and all.

And then, like a ray of sunshine, a thought came to me (Thanks be to God!) that almost instantly replaced my feelings of hurt and disappointment with those of proper guilt and penitence.

For you see, by grace alone, I began to think of my disappointment in a different way. Yes, I was hurting and hurt, but how much more acute is the disappointment that the Sacred Heart and the Immaculate Heart feels on my behalf?

How many times have I entered the confessional, confessed my sins, promised to amend my life, promised to do better, not to sin again, to work harder at rooting out the tendencies that draw me away from Christ? And how many times have I come back the very next week, only to confess the same sins over again, having not really made a true effort at amending my life?

How pained is His Most Sacred Heart by this? More than words can describe, for our verbal description of His Passion and death upon the Cross is but a pale representation of how truly He suffered for and because of us. Every day His Sacrifice is renewed on the altar for me, for my salvation. And still, I go on disappointing Him.

But Our Lord doesn't give up on us. He keeps forgiving us; He continues to encourage us and gives us tools to aid us in our struggle to be more like Him.

My suffering is nothing compared to His, and instead of being disappointed, I should be focusing on not being disappointing. He has already suffered too much on my behalf.

This week was the Feast of Our Lady of Sorrows, and so I beg of Her to aid me, to bring me closer to Her Son, to help me to bear my minute sufferings, and to, in all things, seek and find Christ.

*Headdesk*

Gah! I have been horribly remiss about this blog. After all my AugBlogWriMo-ing, September comes and the Blog falls to the wayside.

*sigh*

Such is life, I suppose.

The last two weeks have been exciting and jam-packed with things to do. School takes up most of my time, as does teaching, so I have little time for anything extracurricular.

Time management has become a very important factor in my life. This is especially true since I have four instruments to practice everyday, and I'm supposed to practice each for a minimum of twenty minutes. I'm not sure where I'm going to find said 80 minutes everyday... thus far, I've only managed to practice each instrument about 3 times a week, but I suppose that's better than not at all, right?

I suppose about now is when I should be thanking the Lord for making me a quick study...

*moment of prayer*

Speaking of prayer and faith and such, I've been following the Papal Visit to Scotland with much interest, due in part to conversation with Father Braveheart, my close friendship with Scot (who is, indeed, a Scotsman), and because I follow Seraphic's Blog on a daily basis. There's been much protesting done, rather ironically, but fitting I suppose, by the Protestants and various groups who have an axe to grind with the Holy Father and the Catholic Church in general.

While my steadfastly Catholic heart trembles in indignation at some of the things that have been said against the Pope, I can't help but to stop and think. Perhaps it's not so bad that all this nonsense is going on... I mean, certainly, they shouldn't be so darned demeaning and just... childish... but I guess we know who our friends are? Better to have the Protestants protesting, than to have them pretending to be nice-nice only to try and water us down later on.

I can't help but to laugh as I wonder where their sense of ecumenism is?

But to get back to my point...

All of the clap-trap is only bringing more attention to the Holy Father and his visit to the UK. More will be listening in when he speaks, and (God willing) that means that more hearts will be open to Christ, either now, or eventually. Yes, the rabble-raisers will probably be pretty closed off to what Benedict has to say, but you have to admit that they always draw a crowd of curious on-lookers, some of whom may be fertile ground for the seed of the Faith.

That is my hope, and prayer, on the eve of the Holy Father's arrival in Scotland. Sometimes, there really is no such thing as "bad publicity"

All of this reminds me of St. Paul writing to Timothy, "And all that will live godly in Christ Jesus, shall suffer persecution." (2 Tim. 3:12- indeed the whole 3rd chapter is a fitting reading, in light of these recent events).

Even Our Lord said, "If the world hate you, know ye, that it hath hated me before you. If you had been of the world, the world would love its own: but because you are not of the world, but I have chose you out of the world, therefore the world hateth you. Remember my word that I said to you: The servants if not greater than his master. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you." (John 15:18-20)

And finally, a voice of reason, amidst the clamour of dissent: BRILLIANT article from 'The Telegraph'

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.

----

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."

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

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

----

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.

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 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

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)

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...

In Which Soaring Soprano Plans...

... to overcome her propensity for procrastination.

Yes, I know. To anyone who actually knows me, that statement will sound more like a joke. I can almost hear the barely restrained snorts of laughter now...

But, I'm serious. I need to whip myself into shape and try to beat my lazy streak. Albeit, I'm going to try in little bits at a time, establish little habits that will lead up to establishing a greater habit of industry and basically dying to myself. Honestly, that's what beating procrastination is all about-- Making yourself do something that you don't really feel like doing right at that moment.

However, let me divulge my plan before I wax philosophical on my poor audience.

So, the first step in my plan to overcome laziness is to do what I'm calling "AugBlogMo," which stands for August Blogging Month. It's my own invention, and basically I'm borrowing the basic concept from the good people over at http://www.nanowrimo.org, except that I'm not novelling in a month. My goal, which may be pretty obvious by now, is to blog everyday during the month of August.

I'm not going to have topics planned out, so it'll be pretty random I'm sure, and it may possibly even get boring in places, but this will help me on multiple levels. It'll (hopefully) get me into a steady routine of writing everyday, clearing my head of a bunch of thoughts, and get the ball rolling on stopping my tendencies towards procrastination.

I know it's a very small start, and Husband even rolled his eyes a bit when I told him about it, but I'm also supplementing by doing other, small, personal things on a daily basis as well. And if I'm open to grace and am willing to work with it, I have no doubts that the results will be good ones.

So, stay tuned! I have a feeling August may be a very interesting month!

In Which Soaring Soprano Is Very...

...edified.

I had meant to share this a few days ago, when it was first brought to my attention, but I kept forgetting about it. All the same, I'm sharing it now, and I hope you all are as edified by the news as I have been. 

Spanish Soccer Player Promises to Make Pilgrimage

What's ironic about this for me is that I had been thinking about the piety of the Spanish soccer players while the World Cup was being played. It was during the Final match to be precise.While watching the Final, I took note of the fact that every time a Spanish player entered or left the field, they made the Sign of the Cross.

Alas, I must admit, however, that my initial reaction to this display of  religious sentiment was not a favorable one. I can hear my audience gasping even now as I type this, but to clarify, I wasn't thinking that it was bad to make Public Displays of Adoration of God. Rather, I was pulled into the trap that so many Traditional Catholics fall prey to, especially those of us that are cradle Traddies. I will hang my head and admit that I was attacked by a feeling of "Holier-Than-Thou."

HTT is a very dangerous feeling regardless of whether you're a Trid or not, but it's most fatal to those of us that adhere steadfastly to the "outdated" traditions of the Church. For us, HTT should be viewed as the Black Plague of all Black Plagues, for that is exactly what it is. It is a blight upon the soul of an otherwise clean and shiny Catholic. It is Pride at it's worst... *cue scary music*

From experience, let me just say that the disease of HTT makes any well-meaning, pious person become nothing more than a nagging, judgmental basket-case. Of course, when we've got HTT we don't think of ourselves that way, but that's how we come across to others. It doesn't help people; it turns people away.

"Ugh," they say. "Why would I want to be a Catholic (or a Traddie, or even a Christian)? Look at how she's behaving! I don't want to be like that!"

Okay, well maybe they won't consciously think that, but that's the internal dialogue that takes place between their brain and the little demon on their shoulder. That little demon on their shoulder is being a good Screwtape and is finding any excuse for them to not listen to the truth. And guess what? Those of us that allow ourselves to be infected with HTT are only helping that blasted demon!!!

Anyway, I need to stop preaching and get on with my story...

So, my first thought upon seeing the Spanish soccer players bless themselves was to wonder how many of them were just doing it as a superstitious practice. My own personal Screwtape was whispering into my ear, "How many of them actually pray on a daily basis, I wonder? I'll bet they only pray when it's convenient (i.e. when they need something)..."

Thankfully, two things stopped the beginning stages of HTT in its tracks. First, my Guardian Angel was being very helpful, as is usual, and for which I am incredibly grateful. She promptly shoved Screwtape off my shoulder, told him to get lost and then reminded me to think nice thoughts.

I was very glad for that, because it reminded me that I had company for whom I had to be on my best behaviour. I was watching the soccer match with one of my best friends, and he's an Anglican considering becoming a Catholic. My Guardian Angel's nudge made me promptly (with the help of grace, of course) discard all those nasty thoughts, and I immediately thought of lots of positive things. I then mentioned to my friend how edifying it was to see them make the Sign of the Cross on international television, to help reinforce those positive sentiments. Honestly, superstitious or not, it takes a great deal of Fortitude to make the Sign of the Cross in public like that, especially when the whole world is watching.

Then, to reward my positive thinking and to drive home my lesson in humility, I come across the news article which deals with the very subject that I'd been wondering about... the piety of the Spanish soccer players. When I read it... well, then I was honestly, truly edified... the first time around.

Faith is, indeed, a beautiful treasure. And it is one that deserves to be put on display for all to see. Not, however, for our own glorification, because then we'd be infested with HTT. Rather, it should be seen as a light, a small candle among many others, each helping to light the path to Christ, so that others may find the way too.

In Which Soaring Soprano Meditates...

... on the martyrs of the French Revolution.

Yesterday was July 14th... Bastille Day.

It's a great day of celebration in France and in other places around the world; even Philadelphia has a huge celebration every year to commemorate the holiday. Philly's celebration is even complete with an actress dressed as Marie Antoinette tossing pastries to the crowds, in remembrance of that famous line, "Let them eat cake." It's actually horribly and ignorantly inaccurate, considering that it was Louis XIV's wife, Marie-Therese, who uttered those infamous words.

Like so much about the French Revolution, fiction has become fact, the true history is diluted, the atrocities of the Reign of Terror are forgotten or ignored, and instead we're called upon to praise the standard of "Liberty, Equality, Fraternity."

Somehow, the cheers and the songs and the celebration are supposed to make us forget how much was lost, and instead make us glorify the empty promises of socialism and nationalism.

We're supposed to forget that the storming of the Bastille in Paris, France on July the Fourteenth, 1789 effectively marked the beginning of the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror. We're supposed to forget that it marked the end of the Catholic monarchy in France, and sounded the death knell for thousands of Catholics who revolted against the anti-Catholic government that took it's place. We're supposed to forget that in the name of "Liberty, Equality and Fraternity," priests, monks and nuns, husbands and wives, women and children were massacred by 'Madame Guillotine.' We're supposed to forget that monasteries, convents and churches were plundered and priceless relics were lost or destroyed. We're supposed to forget about the brave peasants from the Vendée who were martyred horrifically by the new Republican government, because they weren't buying the new regime and fought back for "God and King."

Sadly, it's worked. Many have forgotten. Some intentionally ignore it. My own husband, a very well-read and devout Catholic, had no idea what Bastille day even was. Granted, in the United States, it's not such a big deal. But to some one who was educated solely in the Catholic school system it should have been a big deal. I mean, even the liberal media in the States knows what Bastille Day really stands for.

Last year, as part of the celebrations in San Francisco, the French consulate hosted a Mass for Bastille Day. I don't know if it was someone's disgusting idea of a joke, or if maybe even the French have forgotten what they've lost, but a local news agency caught the glaring incongruity. Joe Eskenazi, who writes a blog for 'San Francisco Weekly' had this to say:

Finally, the unbelievable: The consulate mentions the "messe officielle du 14 juillet" -- the official mass of Bastille Day, which was held on Sunday at Notre Dame des Victoires on Bush Street. Truly, this is an astounding notion: The Catholic celebration of the event that triggered the systematic dismantling of the Catholic church in France, and led to a great many priests and other religious figures being guillotined or chased from the nation with their possessions in tow. Needless to say, you don't have official Bastille Day masses in France today -- it'd be like McDonald's offering a commemorative burger giveaway on the date of a violent vegetarian uprising.  (Full article here)

It makes me cringe.

Why have we allowed ourselves to forget? Why have the Catholic schools stopped teaching the truth about this pivotal part of the history of 'The Oldest Daughter of the Church'?

I'm not a historian, nor do I pretend to be, but I can see the importance, and the tragedy, of remembering the death, the martyrdom and persecution of the Catholic Church in France.

On Bastille Day, I will commemorate, but not by tossing pastries or by parades and fireworks. I will remember the Saints that the French Revolution gave to the ranks of the Church Triumphant. I will ask for their intercession and pray that I may be granted the Fortitude that they so willingly displayed.

And I will listen to Poulenc's opera 'Les dialogues des carmélites' which recounts the story of the Carmelite nuns of Compiegne, who were martyred at the guillotine when they refused to disband their order and continued to practice the religious life. The final scene is heartbreakingly beautiful, and brings me to tears every time I see it.

Poulenc was a Frenchman who did not forget, and neither should you or I.

Final Scene of 'Les dialogues des carmélites'

In Which Soaring Soprano is...

...doing it again.

A week has now gone by without a post, and I found myself already slipping into my bad habit of saying, "I don't have anything cool to write about." And I wondered if I wasn't just making an excuse for myself?

I mean, I am a chronic procrastinator, and I put things off until the last minute or even indefinitely... I have so many half-started and unfinished projects laying around it's not funny. 

Ugh.

Anyway, I'm starting to think that this need of mine to have something "important" to say isn't just an ego thing. I think it's more of an excuse not to post, to put off until tomorrow what I could do today. It's not like I have any lack of time, either. I'm a secretary, and at my job many hours are spent with nothing to do, just waiting for the phone to ring. Which means I have plenty of time to write a blog post everyday... even just a short one.

I really need to take to heart something a priest- very fittingly nicknamed Father Boots, because he always wore black cowboy boots with his cassock- told me once about procrastination.

I had been crying to him about my propensity for procrastination, and all the troubles it was causing (I lived at home at the time and my Mom was very tired of having to remind me fifty times to get something done).

Father Boots nodded and looked at me very solemnly. "Well," he said, in his deep voice (which I always thought was how God's voice would sound). "Do you know what to do the next time you are tempted to procrastinate?"

I bit my lip and shook my head, prepared to be chastised.

"Just tell yourself, 'I'll procrastinate later,'" he said. "It's as simple as that."

My poor teenaged female brain mulled that over for a second and I nodded, still silent. Whenever Father Boots said something solemnly, I couldn't help but to become mute and very seriously puzzle over his pronouncements.

This time a little twinkle came into his eyes and he smiled at me.

Then a light bulb went on in my head and I started to laugh. (I was still a bit slow about catching onto sarcasm at that age.)

Despite the humour, there is a great truth hidden there. And it has served me well... when I've happened to remember it.