Hey everybody. I think I'm ready to start writing again, but I am doing it over here at wiping up the messes. Please follow me there!

Last year at this time, I was the most stressed out I had ever been. I consider it a miracle that I didn't deliver P-Nut prematurely, or miscarry her because I was so overstressed. Let me tell you why I was so stressed out.

In August of 2010, I had committed to serve as the leader of Bubba's Cub Scout Den as well as the Class Mom (Party Planner) for Curly Sue's preschool class. This meant a party for every holiday as well as an end-of-the-year beach party and graduation in June. All of this is in addition to my work at the parish, which called me from the house 2 nights a week and for an hour on Sunday mornings. The Boys were signed up to play flag football, which meant that between practices and games, football 5/7 days per week. And my husband wasn't coaching, so we were at the mercy of 2 someones else for scheduling practices (2 different teams). In September, I found out we were expecting P-Nut at the beginning of June, the week before Preschool graduation. In November, right before Thanksgiving, my niece came to stay with us for 6 months. I soon found I was seriously over-extended and over-committed, even after delegating the parties to many of the other parents in Curly Sue's class. Something had to give, and it was me.

Reflecting on all of this, I came to realize that I said Yes to too many things. The nice ladies called again from school at the end of this past summer asking wouldn't I please be the class mom for Bubba's class? It's 2nd grade, so it's not the same as Pre-K, less intense. Won't you do it? I said I needed to discuss it with my husband, who considered me a fool for entertaining the idea. "You're doing Scouts, we have a new baby, you're back to work. Are you crazy?" I answered no. And they found a new, wonderful mom to help. And the world did not stop turning.

The oven is broken, and we're on the verge of a kitchen remodel, so we haven't gotten it fixed. My toaster oven has never worked so hard. When the Boy Scouts asked for Court of Honor desserts, I bought bakery cookies from the local grocery store. And they were enjoyed by all. Christmas approached. Since my oven was broken, I couldn't torture myself about cookies that would never be baked in time, or staying up late baking and cleaning up cookie baking mess that would be a chore, another thing to cross off my to-do list. Christmas still came, and it was still Merry-even if I never got around to baking!

I recently came to realize that the things I HAVE TO DO is actually quite short. But I have taken many things on in the past that should give me joy, that should be wonderful, that quickly become chores because I have overcommitted myself.

Here's what can happen when we overcommit: The first thing that gets jettisoned is my prayer life. I stuff too much into my life, and work the Lord right out of it. Then, I put personal relationships on the back burner. I spent so much time doing things for the activities that my kids are involved in and actually forgot to SPEND TIME with my kids. Or when we are together, all I do is yell at them. Don't they know I'm busy decorating cupcakes for them? I don't have time to read a story or help with homework! And my husband? Isn't he that guy who sleeps on the other side of the bed? I think I see him every once in a while. Then I stop talking to my extended family and friends. But the principal at the school and I are BFFs because I see her more than I see anyone else.

I am embracing "No" this year. Any new activities will be vetted by this questionnaire:
1. Will this take time away from my relationship with God? Can I carve extra time out of my day to pray to bolster this fundamental relationship in my life to balance out this new responsibility?
2. Will this new activity be to God's greater glory, or am I saying yes to make myself look better? If I'm doing it so people can admire and wonder at my supermom-itude, then I had better say no. Pride goes before the fall.
3. Will this new activity get in the way of my relationship with my spouse? Can it bring us closer together? Will we have more time together? Will it make it harder for us to spend alone time with one another?
4. Will this new activity bring me closer to my children? Will it interrupt family meal times? Will they even remember this later? The best memories are the ones of times we spend together, interacting with each other. The times I dropped what I did to help my child are the ones that bolster our relationships and what they will remember. Conversely, the times when I put my child's needs aside to pursue something else will be their deepest negative memories.
5. WIll this activity bring me true joy, or will it drag me down into a festering pool of resentment?

What about the old, "If you don't do it then no one else will do it?" I just don't believe that at all. I don't believe that no one else will do it. I think that someone will step up. And so what if they don't? If the school doesn't have that program this year, maybe it will make someone step up and do it next year. If it's important to enough people, someone will step up and take charge of the program. It doesn't have to be me. The thing I will have to remember is that to every activity I say no to, it opens up another opportunity for someone else to say yes. Someone with fresh ideas and new energy-and a new BFF for the school principal. And the world will not stop turning.

Hi!

It's been a while. Had a baby. You know, life happened and then before you know it's it's been months and months since you've posted anything. Let me ease back in with some sound bites. In no particular order:

1. Sharecare, I do not think you want me for a wellness warrior right now. I am breastfeeding and any decrease in my caloric intake means I do not make enough milk for my little baby to eat. So I must continue to consume many chocolate products every day. I hope you understand.

2. I have decided that the baby's blog name will be P-nut. Because she's small. And I like the way that looks. It's kind of what I imagine Beyonce and Jay-Z will call their baby.

3. Here is a picture of P-Nut. We also refer to her as The Cuteness. As in, "Hold The Cuteness while I go make dinner."



4. P-Nut was our smallest baby by 2 pounds. She also was "failing to thrive," which basically meant she slept when she was supposed to be eating. But she's better now and wider awake and getting bigger, but she's still not that big (4 1/2 months old and 12 pounds. My other kids were 12 pounds at 2 months!). The picture above was from July.

5. Our pastor has allowed me to work from home while The Cuteness is still little. It's been nice to work from here. Got me a Google voice number for folks to call me on that the RE office can give out. Kind of cool.

More another day!

I am a firm believer in setting your expectations for others to be reasonably high. Take my children for example. I expect them to put their dirty laundry into the hamper. I remind them, but I expect it from them. I expect them to be polite not only to others, but to each other and above all, to their parents. And they do these things. Not always, and I do sometimes have to remind them, but overall, they do what I expect.

Why would they live up to my expectations? 1. They know I love them, 2. My expectations are reasonable: things that anyone their ages should be able to do. (I'm not asking the 4 year old help shovel the walk-though she does it readily. She thinks it's FUN!) and 3. They love me and they do not want to disappoint me. Nor do they want the consequences of failing to live up to the expectations.

Yes, consequences. If you don't eat your dinner, you will not get dessert. If you don't put your dirty socks in the wash, you will have no clean socks to wear. If you are rude to mom, you get to deal with dad.

I have been trying to drill into my 7th grade CCD kids' heads the holydays of obligation in the USA. And I have been trying to impress upon all of the kids I am in contact with (in my class and the 8th grade Confirmation candidates) the importance of weekly (and Holyday) Mass attendance.

To review, the Holydays of Obligation in the USA are:

January 1, feast of Mary, Mother of God
40 days after Easter, Ascension Thursday
August 15, Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary
November 1, All Saints' Day
December 8, Immaculate Conception of Mary
December 25, Christmas

So, after the boys, Scott, and I stayed up to watch the ball drop on New Year's Eve, we woke in time to get to 9:00 Mass for the Holyday of Obligation. We thought. Yes, I work at the parish, but I forgot the Holyday schedule is not the same as the Sunday schedule, and we were late for Mass by half an hour. Mass was nearly over by the time we arrived. So, we went home. Then I thought to myself, "Is it even a holyday this year? It's Saturday." So I googled it. And lo, the holyday was abrogated this year. Because it fell on a Saturday. The Holyday is also abrogated when it falls on a Monday, too. So, let's look at that list again for 2010:

January 1, feast of Mary, Mother of God (not abroagted in 2010)
40 days after Easter, Ascension Thursday (transferred to the following Sunday in all but 6 dioceses in the US)
August 15, Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary (happened to be a Sunday in 2010)
November 1, All Saints' Day (abrogated)
December 8, Immaculate Conception of Mary (never abrogated)
December 25, Christmas (never abrogated)

In 2010, 3 of the 6 Holydays were transferred or abrogated in almost all of our nation's dioceses.
Did you know that according to the code of canon law (canon 1246), there are actually 10 holydays of obligation? Yes, it's true! In the USA, we have either dropped or transferred to Sunday: Epiphany, Corpus Christi, and the Solemnities of St. Joseph and of Sts. Peter and Paul.

I can appreciate what I think our Bishops Conference is trying to do. I think that they don't want people who wouldn't go to Mass those days to have mortal sins on their souls for choosing not to go to Mass. I really think they decided to do what they thought was best.

I am not a bishop. I don't even play one on TV. I don't claim to know more than our shepherds, nor do I claim to be more Catholic than any one of them. I know that the Lord has chosen them to lead us and we should be willing to be led.

It just seems to me that what this abrogation of holydays and what this removal of holydays really is, is a lowering of our bishops' expectations for us. It's kind of like, "We know it's really hard for you to take an extra 10 hours out of your year to go to Mass for special days, especially since most of you don't go to Sunday Mass at all. So, we're going to make it easier for you. You only have to go on these few days. Not so bad, right?"

There are a few downsides to this line of thinking: 1. It's confusing. I mean, I work at a church and I go to Mass every week and I don't even know when it's really an obligation or not. 2. It leads people to wonder what else is negotiable. This is a very slippery slope. I saw it in people in my parents' generation after Vatican II: "Now it's not a sin to eat meat on Friday (but you have to remember to make a different act of penance)." "Not a sin to eat meat on Friday?! What else isn't a sin?" 3. To take away or abrogate Holydays of Obligation, which are important because of the events and people they celebrate, chips away at our Catholic identity. There is less and less that separates us from Protestant Christians.

(tune in next time for part 2)

With many thanks to the lovely Jennifer of Conversion Diary.

1. First: my hair because I KNOW you're dying to know how THAT all turned out. Saturday, I got an appointment with my friend who does hair at her house. I walked in and she told me, "I was all ready give you a hard time and to tell you it's not that bad. It really IS that bad." She said that there are some colorists who will never in their whole careers see hair as stained as mine was.

2. It took 3 or 4 bleach treatments to get the hair to go from strawberry (the actual color of a berry-not the pretty red-blonde color seen on people) to people-hair-colored-red. We were going to try and get it to the point where we could dye it a light brown color, but it would have meant a 4th or 5th whole-head bleaching. She said, "You know, we could just put some blonde highlights in and it would really be pretty."

3. Since it was 11 PM and I had been in her chair for THREE HOURS I told her to go for it.

4. Now I look less like Strawberry Shortcake and more like Vitamin C (only my hair is red and blonde, not red and yellow).

5. Remember the Graduation Song by Vitamin C? No? Here's the video:

6. The hair looks nice. I have gotten a lot of compliments on it. It's definitely bolder than I would have chosen, but I like it. It's very Spring.

7. On Sunday, I was wearing a pink shirt. Scott told me I looked so nice with my new hair and my pink shirt. I said thank you. Then, "You know, with the pink shirt, and the vibrant hair, I look like an Easter Egg." And I am OK with that.

From this Easter Egg to you, Happy Easter!

1. I tried coloring my hair today. The developing creme didn't mix all the way in with the color. This means my hair is streaky, patchy, and the color of Strawberry Shortcake's IN SOME PLACES. I'm currently waiting for my hairdresser to call me back to see when she can fit me in to fix it. 2. Our Confirmation retreat is tomorrow. It is possible that I will be wearing a baseball cap during the retreat. 3. In confession this week, I confessed that I have been struggling with the same sin for the last month. The priest asked me to think about that the Lord is trying to show me about myself as regards this sin. 4. I have concluded that this sin is directly traceable to my trying to exercise my own will in a certain area of my life, and not God's. 5. It now occurs to me that this hair color faux pas may be one of the many ways God is trying to humble me further so I can more readily accept His will. 6. I really had better get on the stick with the accepting God's Will part. This being humbled part is humbling. 7. The most important lessons are the hardest ones to learn. Please visit the lovely Jennifer for more 7 Quick Takes.

1. I am now 30 weeks pregnant. I have entered that delightful stage of pregnancy I call "beached whale." I am gigantic.

I feel a little bit like a hypocrite recommending St. Francis de Sales' "Introduction to the Devout Life" to you in my previous post. The reason for this is that I have never actually finished reading it myself.

To develop my Catholic identity, or to develop it in my family, requires intentional living. It is not enough to float through my life, to be comfortable in my Catholicism. If I'm comfortable, I'm not doing it right.

By intentional living, I mean that my life has to be specifically oriented toward the Lord. Everything I do has to be toward His greater glory. In other words, I have to live the way the saints did, with heroic virtue. (Being human, I will probably stumble. Praise the Lord then for the gift of the Sacrament of Reconciliation.)

Fr. Z wrote about heroic virtue, the quality that defines a saint, the other day. I'm going to quote him here:

"But Father! But Father!”, some of you are about to say. “Heroic virtue? Really?
How can any of us aspire to such a thing! That’s sounds terribly difficult!”

It isn’t easy, but it is possible.

We are all called to be saints. God wouldn’t ask something of us that isn’t possible. And when He asks things that are hard, He also provides the means and the occasions. Even in your suffering, for example, or your obscurity, you can serve Him. God knew you before the creation of the material universe. He called you into being now, in this world. Of all the possible worlds God could have created, He created this
world, into which you would be born. He has a plan and purpose your you, if you
will embrace it.

Heroic virtue isn't developed overnight. I can name several places in my own life right now where I can do better to develop that heroic virtue. I can take a set time out of my day for prayer (Divine Mercy Chaplet takes 5 minutes to say!). I can read scripture instead of that new chick lit book before I go to bed. I can read about the faith.

I teach a group of kids on Sunday mornings. They range in age from 9-16. Some haven't been baptized, and some are from families who are coming back to the Church after some time away. None of them have made their First Communion nor have they been Confirmed. When we came to the Feast of the Epiphany, our first class back after the Christmas break, I challenged them to make a "New Year's Resolution." It was to be one small thing that they can do in their daily lives to show love for others and love for God. Maybe it was to say a decade of the Rosary every day. Maybe it was to talk to one lonely person at their school every day. Or to help do one extra thing around the house every day. Something that they could do and that they would do. I have made it a point every week to remind them of their resolutions and to encourage them in these things. It takes 6 weeks to change or to start a new pattern of behavior. In a few more weeks, we'll revisit these resolutions and see how we're doing. If we've got the new pattern mastered, we can add something else (like, bumping it up to two decades of the Rosary, etc.).

You don't run a marathon without training for it. You start out running short distances and then you gradually work up to that 26.2 miles. I believe that the best way to cultivate that heroic virtue within myself and my family is to start with one small thing and do it faithfully for a while and then to add something else to do.

One of the best things I've read on this is "Introduction to the Devout Life," by St. Francis de Sales. I am also seriously afraid right now that I may have co-opted this great work. If I have, I am so sorry. Anyway, you should buy it and read it. Or borrow it from the library. It's written for people who are living in the world, not in a cloister. How to cultivate devotion in your daily life of taking care of your kids and husband. And he just makes sense.

These three things (confusion, negotiation, and loss of Catholic identity) are some of the things that are causing the Church to bleed people out to the evangelical Christian churches. Poor catechesis is the biggest reason (why on earth would you leave the Church if you know that it's where you can get the Jesus in the Eucharist-and what that means?), but a close second is a loss of our Catholic identity (Pope Benedict is all about this. So is Fr. Z.).

Why else would a "Good Catholic family" choose to send their kids to a decent public school when they could send their kids to a decent Catholic school? Why else would a good family leave St. Peter's for the Hope Evangel Church of Christ (led by a former Catholic who is now their pastor)? It's not really because they can't afford the tuition (if it's important to your identity, you find a way to sacrifice to make it happen). It's not really because the evangelicals demand less than the Catholics do (I think in many instances, it's the opposite).

It's because Christian denominations have become interchangeable to Catholics. On the whole, many adults don't know basic truths (facts) about the Church and what She teaches. A 2008 survey by CARA showed that just 57% of all adult Catholics surveyed believe in the real Presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.


I've seen it myself in the parish where I am. I have seen families who think that going to any church is ok, if they go at all. I've worked with families that have the kids go to CCD and to Sunday school or youth group at another Christian church-and see nothing wrong with it. They don't know there are theological differences between the different approaches to Christianity and they don't seem to be aware of any confusing messages that the children might pick up.

We have lost a sense of what makes Catholics, well, Catholic. How many families do you know that gets together for a Rosary every night-or once a week? Gosh, how many of them even get together for dinner every night? How many people do you know who wear a scapular? I can only think of one I know for sure-and he's a 90 year old priest. How many people do you know who wear a Miraculous Medal-and WHY? Wearing a cross around your neck is kind of fashionable. But how many people do you know who do it with real devotion and not just as another piece of jewelry?

In the interest of full disclosure, the only one of those things to which I can say, "yes, I do that myself" is the one about the Miraculous Medal. I was going to say that our family is doing it's best, but we're really not. We're not doing our best because it's a little work to do all of those things.

Yes, to reinforce a Catholic identity, or to develop one, takes work. It takes living intentionally. So many of us (me especially) are content to float through life, going through the basic motions of what it means to be a Catholic Christian. We say grace before meals (most of the time), we go to Sunday Mass, we say goodnight prayers with our kids, and all of these are good things. BUT aren't we all called to do more? Didn't Jesus give His life for us? Doesn't that require a radical commitment from all of us? And a renewal of that commitment every day?


(stay tuned for part 3)

No, it's Amy. And things are better. We're all settling in here and getting used to one another.

Baby 4 seems to be growing nicely. I have a doctor's appointment tomrrow morning, barring any more snow-related weirdness (we got about 30 inches of snow December 26-27, 2010). We'll see how much weight I've gained and whether or not my doctor will yell at me.

Well, that's all for now. I have a church-related rant coming up. And I do have to start getting back to all of the stuff I owe you about going to Europe last summer.

Good night!

suckity sucksucksucksucks suck.



My life is complicated and stressful right now. And in it I can see God's hand holding mine. I can see Him providing though the kindness of other people and I am grateful.



Just not cheerful.



I am beyond frustrated with certain people I am related to.



I am depressed.



I am angry.



I want normal again.



I want this sh!t to stop hitting the fan during the winter holidays (This isn't the first time it has all gone to hell right before Thanksgiving). I feel stressed right now because I can't do the things I want to do at this time of year. I don't feel adequately SPIRITUALLY prepared for Christmas.



I can't think any further ahead than the next 5 minutes. It's 12:13. I'm just trying to get to 1:00.



I feel like I'm in a constant state of prayer because otherwise I would have lost my mind.



Went to the OB yesterday. Unbelieveably, my blood pressure was normal: 110/70. That is a miracle because I spent the whole morning trying to wrangle 2 misbehaving children at Mass and listening to them bicker and tattle on each other ALL MORNING. ALL MORNING!



I feel like I go around the clock and am accomplishing nothing.

I know so many of you are praying for me. And I am so grateful for that. And I know that these problems I have, when taken with those of other people, are not a lot.

I'm just in the thick of it right now. And trying to get to 1:00.

Hello, Internet. I know you missed me. My life has been cuckoo crazy lately. Here's a recap:

1. both boys played flag football in a rec league this fall. This totally kicked my butt. They were in 2 different age groups, so they played on different days and had totally different practices and some of the older boy's games didn't even end until after 9. Monday-Thursday of every week was football in addition to the OT for one of the kids, two different cub scout dens, and CCD for me two nights a week.
   
2. I am leading our younger son's cub scout den, which feels completely overwhelming, but probably because of the flag football experience as outlined above. I do enjoy it, but I feel I have have said yes to too much this year.
   
3. Case in point: I allowed myself to be guilted into serving as a class mom again for my daughter's preschool class. I was told that they asked everyone else. I'm not sure that's the whole truth. It's fun, but this year can be a lot of work. The teacher already let me off the hook with the huge Thanksgiving breakfast they usually do (she's just coming back from maternity leave and I asked her if we can back off on it), but I still get to chair all of the class parties, field day, "beach" party, and graduation. Which all takes place in the beginning of June and should prove interesting because:
4. Giglio baby #4 will likely be born that week (I'm emailing all of the parents next week to delegate all of that end-of-year stuff.). We are really excited because we've been trying (or not not trying) to get pregnant since January. Reaction was mixed when we announced it to our families at Thanksgiving dinner (Dinner deserves a post of its own that will never be written. Stressful. not unborn-child-related). Feeling queasy and tired all the time, even at the 12 week mark. Pretty sure it's a girl.
   
5. My niece came to stay with last last Sunday. She'll be with us for a while. She needs our prayers. Please pray for us as well.

So, there is most of it, I think. Isn't that enough?

I have to say I'm super jazzed to be pregnant at the same time once again as my best girl, Aimee. We're both due within a month of each other again.

I know I owe you posts. God willing, my life will slow down some. Someday. The way my luck seems to be running, I'll get put on bedrest. The upside would be that I'd have nothing to do but blog. The downside would be that chaos would ensue.

Blessed Mother, pray for me!

My niece has come to stay with us for a time. Would appreciate you throwing a prayer to the Lord on her behalf, on behalf of her parents, and on behalf of our family as we all get used to having each other around!

I read this story about a Marine during WWII and St. Michael the Archangel a few years ago. It's beautiful. Thank a vet this week, won't you?

True story of a Soldier and the Intervention of St. Michael

What follows is a letter written by a young Marine to his mother while he was hospitalized after being wounded on a Korean battlefield in 1950. It came into the hands of a Navy Chaplain who read the letter before 5,000 Marines at a San Diego Naval Base in 1951.

The Navy Chaplain had talked to the young man, to his mother, and to the Sergeant in charge of the patrol. This Navy Chaplain, Father Walter Muldy, assured anyone who asked, that this was a true story. This letter was read once a year in the 1960's over a mid-western radio station at Christmas time. We present the letter and let it stand on its own merits.

Dear Mom,

I wouldn't dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else would believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard, but I have to tell somebody.

First off, I am in a hospital. Now don't worry, you hear me, don't worry. I was wounded but I'm okay. The doctor says that I will be up and around in a month. But that is not what I want to tell you.

Remember when I joined the Marines last year; remember when I left, how you told me to say a prayer to St. Michael every day. You really didn't have to tell me that. Ever since I can remember you always told me to pray to St. Michael the Archangel. You even named me after him. Well I have always prayed to St. Michael. When I got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer that you taught me? "Michael, Michael of the morning, fresh corps of Heaven adorning…" You know the rest of it. Well, I said it every day, sometimes when I was marching or sometimes resting, but always before I went to sleep. I even got some of the other fellas to say it.

Well, one day I was with an advance detail way up over the front lines. We were scouting for the commies. I was plodding along in the bitter cold; my breath was like cigar smoke. I thought I knew every guy in the patrol, when along side of me comes another Marine I never met before. He was bigger than any other Marine I'd ever seen. He must have been over 6 feet 4 inches and built in proportion. It gave me a feeling of security to have such a body near me.

Anyway, there we were trudging along. The rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start a conversation I said, "Cold ain't it." And then I laughed. Here I was with a good chance of getting killed any minute and I am talking about the weather!

My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh softly.

I looked at him, "I've never seen you before. I thought I knew every man in the outfit."

"I just joined at the last minute," he replied, "the name is Michael."

"Is that so," I said surprised, "that's my name too."

"I know," he said, and then went on saying the prayer, "Michael, Michael of the morning..."

I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How did he know my name, and a prayer that you had taught me? Then I smiled to myself, every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn't I taught the prayer to anybody who would listen? Why now and then, they even referred to me as St. Michael.

Neither of us spoke for a time, and then he broke the silence.

"We're going to have some trouble up ahead." He must have been in fine physical shape for he was breathing so lightly I couldn't see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself; well with the commies all around us, that's no great revelation.

Snow began to fall in thick great globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out, and I was marching in a white fog of wet sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

"Michael!" I shouted in sudden alarm. I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, "This will stop shortly."

His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol. There was no one in sight. We lost them in the heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise. Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them, seven commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn’t anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us.

"Down Michael!" I screamed, and hit the frozen earth. I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing.

Mom, those guys couldn't have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits, but there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least that's what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine. I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit. Now I know.

I remember feeling strong arms about me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I thought I was dying. Maybe I was even dead. I remember thinking, “Well, this is not so bad.”

Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock, but it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again, only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor.

As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an angel. In his hand was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million lights.

Well, that's the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me; I don't know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment's rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

"Where's Michael?" I asked. I saw them look at one another. "Where's who?" asked one.

"Michael, that big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us."

"Kid," said the sergeant, "you weren't walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in, when you disappeared in the snow."

He looked at me, curiously. "How did you do it, kid?"

"How did I do what?" I asked half angry, despite my wound. "This Marine named Michael and I were just..." "Son," said the sergeant kindly, "I picked this outfit myself and there just ain't another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it."

He paused for a minute. "Just how did you do it, kid? We heard shots, yet there hasn't been a shot fired from your rifle, and there isn't a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there."

I didn't say anything; what could I say? I could only look open-mouthed with amazement.

It was then, the sergeant spoke again. "Kid," he said gently, "every one of those seven commies was killed by a sword stroke."

That is all I can tell you, Mom. As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes, it may have been the cold or the pain, but that is what happened.

Love, Michael

St. MICHAEL PRAYER

To St. Michael in Time of Peace Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning, Michael of the Army of the Lord, Stiffen thou the hand upon the still sword, Michael, Folded and shut upon the sheathed sword, Michael, Under the fullness of the white robes falling, Gird us with the secret of the sword. When the world cracked because of a sneer in heaven, Leaving out for all time a scar upon the sky, Thou didst rise up against the Horror in the highest, Dragging down the highest that looked down on the Most High: Rending from the seventh heaven the hell of exaltation Down the seven heavens till the dark seas burn: Thou that in thunder threwest down the Dragon Knowest in what silence the Serpent can return. Down through the universe the vast night falling(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning!) Far down the universe the deep calms calling(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Sword!) Bid us not forget in the baths of all forgetfulness, In the sigh long drawn from the frenzy and the fretfulness In the huge holy sempiternal silence In the beginning was the Word. When from the deeps of dying God astoundedAngels and devils who do all but dieSeeing Him fallen where thou couldst not follow,Seeing Him mounted where thou couldst not fly,Hand on the hilt, thou hast halted all thy legionsWaiting the Tetelestai and the acclaim,Swords that salute Him dead and everlastingGod beyond God and greater than His Name. Round us and over us the cold thoughts creeping(Michael, Michael: Michael of the battle-cry!)Round us and under us the thronged world sleeping(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Charge!)Guard us the Word; the trysting and the trustingEdge upon the honour and the blade unrustingFine as the hair and tauter than the harpstringReady as when it rang upon the targe. He that giveth peace unto us; not as the world giveth:He that giveth law unto us; not as the scribes:Shallhe be softened for the softening of the citiesPatient in usury; delicate in bribes?They that come to quiet us, saying the sword is broken,Break man with famine, fetter them with gold,Sell them as sheep; and He shall know the sellingFor He was more than murdered. He was sold. Michael, Michael: Michael of the Mustering,Michael of the marching on the mountains of the Lord,Marshal the world and purge of rot and riotRule through the world till all the world be quiet:Only establish when the world is brokenWhat is unbroken is the word.

A Prayer for Angels
Lord, you are the Host of heaven, the King of glory, the head of all the armies
and angels. Please send out your angels and chariots of fire to hedge my son and
all of our troops in so that no weapon formed against them would prosper. Cover
him with the shelter of your wings and keep him as the apple of your eye.
Prepare the way before him and cause him and all our soldiers to be so
spiritually alert that they will hear a word behind them saying, “This is the
way; walk in it” when you guide them.

A Prayer from Isaiah 54
Lord, let no weapon that is formed against our servicemen and women prosper
(Isaiah 54:7). May every terrorist and insurgent be discovered and apprehended
before he brings destruction on others. Please protect the innocent Iraqi
civilians, especially the women and children, and strengthen the Iraqi people to
rise up against the insurgents who are killing their own people. Protect the
Iraqi police and soldiers, and strengthen them to defend their own country
against terrorists. May Your strong right hand hold and keep our soldiers
securely every day. In Christ’s name, amen.

A prayer from Ps. 17
Almighty Father, show our servicemen and women
Your unfailing love in wonderful ways.
Save them with Your strength…
Guard our troops as the apple of Your eye
And hide them in the shadow of Your wings.
Amen.

www.militaryfamiliespray.com

There is an exhibit there right now called "Women and Spirit: Catholic Sisters in America." It was really great and showed how much religious sisters contributed to life in America from its very beginning. Did you know that religious sisters helped to found the Mayo Clinic? Did you know that an American sister died in the Civil War tending the injured soldiers? And at the beginning of the Civil War, sisters ran 30 hospitals to treat battle-wounded people, while the Union and Confederate Armies between them ran just 3?


It also had several habits that sisters had worn through their history there and passports, original baggage that the sisters brought to the USA and their naturalization papers. The exhibits profiled St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, St. Katherine Drexel, and St. Frances Xavier Cabrini.


It was weird to see a wimple that one order of sisters had worn in a display case. It was similar to the one below (worn by St. Catherine Laboure), but it didn't come down in the back. The sisters wore it as part of their habit from 1684-1964. Imagine, the order wore basically the same habit for nearly 500 years, until 1964.


What happened in 1964? Oh yeah, this was going on. It was the '60's! Time to throw 500 years of tradition out the window and, like, totally engage the world, you know? Because when you wear a habit it's so hard to, like, be in the world, you know? Because people might, like, recognize you for being Catholic and have some expectations for you to totally represent Jesus in every way. Jesus was all about peace and love and social justice. He had long hair just like all the boys in the '60's. And He never, like, brought people down about following the rules and stuff. Oh, but wait. Didn't He say He didn't come to abolish the Old Covenant? And I think He was fairly clear about following the Law. (Mt. 5: 17-20) Jesus isn't a hippie.


I can't speak for every woman, but I am proud to be Scott's wife. I rarely leave take off my wedding ring and if it weren't totally tacky to wear a T-shirt all the time that says: "Scott's wife" I would.


Which is why, if Jesus selected ME to be His bride, and I said "yes," I would want to scream about it from the rooftops. Because, no offense to any men (especially not to MY man), but Jesus is the PERFECT spouse. I just don't understand why you wouldn't want to wear that habit all the time and show the world just by your clothes that you are honored and privileged to be the Bride of Christ.



I don't want to give a poor impression of the exhibit, put together by the Leadership Conference of Women Religious (who haven't been really happy about the apostolic visitation that Pope Benedict has sent to investigate all orders of women religious). I hope that it helps all who see it understand the very real contributions that Catholic sisters brought and still bring to our country. It was a beautiful exhibit. Right up until the end.


That's when they got to modern times. It was awesome to see so many clergy and sisters marching on Selma, Alabama in support of Civil Rights. It was less awesome watch a sister advocating for women's ordination to Pope John Paul II when he came to the USA in 1979. I wonder what Mother Cabrini or Mother Seton or Mother Drexel would say to that?


The exhibit dead-ended at a wall right there at that video. As I write this I wonder if it wasn't fitting that the exhibit came to a dead end right there. Most of the orders in the LCWR are dying. Young women are not joining those orders the way that they are the orders that belong to the Council of Major Superiors of Women Religious. A lot of these orders have a different kind of vocations crisis: not enough places to put all of the women who want to become postulants.

To exit the exhibit, I had to walk back through the entire thing, back to the beginnings of the sisters' history in the USA. As I remember this, it occurs to me that the problems facing us in regard to today's religious sisters aren't really that new. It seems that as long as there have been religious orders there have been those who thought the rule was, like, too haaaaard, you know? Look at good old St. Benedict. He comes up with his rule, and at first a whole bunch of guys think it's great. They follow him up Monte Cassino, and then there are so many of them that Benedict goes to found a new house. Except the guys in the new house think the rule is too hard to follow. So they try to kill him.

Then there's St. Teresa of Avila. She goes into the Carmelites and is a little surprised to find that instead of being cloistered, a lot of the nuns spend time chatting up rich donors. Teresa liked it for a while, but then she begins to think there should be something more, well, God-focused. So she reforms the Carmelites and gets in all kinds of trouble, not just with her sisters and superiors but with the clergy too.

Maybe right now the wheel is turning. This, too, shall pass. Maybe this is just what we have to go through to usher in a new golden age of the Church. Only the Lord knows which saints are in the making right now. Let's pray for them.

So, this is a half post of the European vacation, because I just accidentally made the external hard drive that has all the pictures on it disappear from the desktop of my computer. And I don't know how to put them back. I select the pictures then I tell the story because it helps me remember stuff.

Here are some random impressions of England:

1. Chillier in July than I thought it would be. And less rainy than I expected. It was overcast a lot, especially at night. But the last night, we had a brilliant clear sky. We were one hour from London and I have never seen so many stars.

2. The people were generally wonderful, especially the folks who worked at the college. The people we encountered out and about were not overtly friendly. It seems that starting a conversation with a stranger in public is actually sort of rude.

3. Public transport was very quiet. Also, apparently quite rude to talk above a whisper on the tube.

4. The milk tastes better there. The skim milk is creamy like whole milk.

5. These people eat all the time. Seriously. Breakfast at 8, morning coffee and cookies at 11. Lunch at 1, Afternoon tea (with donuts) at 3, dinner at 7. I gained 5 pounds in 5 days.

6. It's probably because we were with a bunch of Americans most of the time, but I didn't really feel like we were in a foreign country, at least not as much as I did when we were in Italy. There were a lot of different accents around, but it was a lot like living in Metro NY. I know people who were born in different countries (the UK, Ireland, Spain, Italy, Colombia, Poland) who live right here in Linden, so when we were in England, it didn't feel different because we all spoke English.

7. Even though we were all speaking English, however, some of the folks we met with Home Countries accents were difficult for me to understand.

8. Can we talk about the highway signs? Instead of simple, one word directions, like "yield," they use, "give way." And it gets worse when you are on the major highways. We were looking at the signs on the M4 from London to Oxfordshire and they were paragraphs long. Really. By the time you finished reading the sign, you'd missed your exit!

9. They measured distance in miles, not kilometers. And they used miles per hour to measure speed. This confused me because everything else is metric.

10. It's kind of amazing how you can be in VERY urban London and then, just on the other side of the city limit, it's farmland (When we landed at Heathrow, we literally flew past cows grazing next to the landing strip.). The concept of a suburb doesn't seem to exist there.

11. My impression is that as a whole, and certainly there are exceptions, the country seems to be quite anti-religion. This could also be because we were hanging around with highly educated people (who seem to ridicule religion, no matter what side of the Atlantic you live on), but I definitely picked up a general disdain of organized religion while we were there, but particularly anti-Catholic feeling. I don't know if it was more overt than usual since the pope's visit was about a month away.

12. However, we had the privilege of attending Mass at a wonderful, tiny, little church right near campus. And the priest, about age 35, was fantastic. Here is a link to a picture of Marie and Phil (whoever they are, but they sure look happy) getting married there and the priest I am talking about is in the photo with them. God bless you, Marie and Phil!

More later on if I can get the photos off the external hard rive. Hope it's not to hard to find them...

So Newark's about to get $100 mil. from the CEO of Facebook. That's great. Really. I hope it helps more kids learn to read, to do math, and to stay away from the streets.

In August, just as I had gotten completely caught up with my laundry (really!), my dryer stopped working. It wouldn't turn on at all.

Scott is a can-do kind of guy. Why pay someone else to fix something when you can do it yourself? With the help of the amazing internet, Scott has fixed and installed loads of things around our place and in our cars, saving us untold hundreds of dollars in repair costs.

So, Scott took it apart. He cleaned all of the lint out of the inside of the dryer, the whole exhaust line, and any other place you can think of. We had cleaned out the line before, and I always empty the lint trap, but over 10 years lint gets EVERYWHERE!!!!!!! He thought we needed a new thermo-thing-whatever-it-is (a safety part that makes sure your dryer doesn't get too hot and set your house on fire). It's designed to fail as soon as the inside of the dryer by the motor gets too hot. It is not fixable, so it has to be replaced. Presumably, when replacing the thermo-thing, one would also notice all that lint and clean it out. Or, for normal people, your repairman would do that.

Scott ordered the part, replaced it, put the dryer back together and painted over the rusty spot of the top of the dryer where I had kept the laundry detergent. Wonderful! It worked!

For one load. Now the drum won't turn. He took it apart. Maybe the belt wasn't on properly. He re-laid the belt. He reassembled the dryer.

Nothing. We need a new motor.

The man just this week finished his master's degree. He was doing all of this while trying to get his papers written and go to work and all of the usual Dad stuff he does. As a result, our family of 5 has been without a dryer for a month. No one is wearing less clothes. In fact, there is more laundry now than there was in the summer because I am washing school uniforms as well.

I am not going to lie to you and say that I have been patient about all of this. I have tried (sometimes hard, sometimes not) to avoid nagging him about getting this thing done. I have tried to be cheerful in doing my wash even as certain people complain that they have no (name article of clothing here). I have tried.

This drying is trying. The weather's not as hot as it had been at the beginning of all of this, so the clothes aren't drying in a hour. And now with the kids in school and me working, I really don't have a lot of time to hang wash out.

I did manage to get some things on the line yesterday afternoon. Then we had a thunderstorm while I was at work. No one who was at home brought in the wash.

What this trying experience has taught me is that you can't always make things go the way you want them. Sometimes, your son will turn the hose on the dirt near your just-dried jeans and accidentally splash mud on them. You have do things when you have the chance. You have to plan how you will do it. You have to be patient.

What this trying experience has taught me is that you have to see how not only you are frustrated by the things out of your control. You have to see that your attitude as woman of the house will impact everyone else under your roof. You have to love them all through whatever life hands your way. You have to see that if the broken dryer and the splattered mud are the worst of it, you're very fortunate indeed.

If you can see these things, you will grow to appreciate the feel of the sun on your hair and your newly-acquired mosquito-swatting skills. You will realize that this may just be the Lord's way of getting you to slow down a bit and listen. Listen to Him speaking to you in the three minutes of quiet you'll get as you hang out your laundry.