Category Archives: Paroxysm of Giggles

Is Something More Needed?

Stethoscope

I went to the doctor’s office last week.  I have a lot of different medical conditions, and as we were discussing one of them, my doctor suggested that I go on a particular medication to try and ameliorate one of the symptoms of this disease.  However, this particular drug is contraindicated in patients who have a clotting disorder, which I have.  My doctor knows of my clotting condition, yet wasn’t thinking of it, or the side effects of the drug, when she suggested it.

I reminded her of my clotting disorder, and she agreed that I should not be on the suggested medication.  No harm, no foul.

However…

I couldn’t keep from wondering about other patients.  What if they didn’t know the ramifications a medication could have on other medical conditions that they have?  What if they blindly trusted the suggestions of their doctor?

It’s not a question of the doctor’s culpability — everyone makes mistakes and can’t be expected to keep everything in mind.  This is why on most patient’s medical charts, a list of their allergies is featured prominently.  So that a medication to which the patient is allergic would not be accidentally prescribed.  However, I am not aware of any such alert system for other medications which might be contraindicated for whatever reason.

Perhaps another section should be featured on medical records?  A list of medications which should not be prescribed for the specific patient?

Run for Your Life!

My doctor is trying to kill me! Okay, he’s not really trying to kill me — just almost kill me. Under the notion that ‘whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.’ He guarantees that within 3 months, I will return to clinic saying, “You are the best doctor ever!” To which he will humbly reply, “What? You did all the work!” 🙂 LOL! He’s hilarious. I enjoy our meetings.

So, since (for insurance reasons — apparently I am in that in-between of sick, but not with the correct diagnoses; i.e. I need to actually have a heart attack first) PT, Pulmonary Rehab and Cardiac Rehab have all rejected me, he’s going to start me on my own training program.

Sounds simple, right?

Ha!

My exercise tolerance is about nil. Which is what he’s looking to strengthen.

He got all excited when he heard that I had an elliptical trainer in my house. This is to be the instrument of my torture. Little does he know that my house … doesn’t have central air. Someone, please, set up a collection for this! 🙂

IRONMAN Aeros Elliptical Trainer Features

Four times a week, starting at 5 minutes per day. Increase by 5 minutes every week until we get to 30 minutes a day, four times a week.

Easy, yes? Are you laughing at me yet? What a wimp!

But I’m game. Nothing like the present. Maybe I’ll have a good day, even though I was so exhausted after my appointment that by 3 pm I just drove home and immediately took a nap.

So, I put on my iPod and got a nice running song and started. Ah, “Rhythm is a Dancer” by Snap. Brings back memories of high school. 🙂

30 seconds in: Yep. This is not easy, when you have a neuromuscular disorder.

1 minute: Muscles are starting to burn. So glad that I took anatomy, since now I can name them. 🙂 The first one to go was the left rectus femoris. Then the gastrocnemius.

But I can work through the pain, right? I’m tougher than that. I used to roller blade for 4 hours straight on feet 90% covered in blisters. What’s this?

5 minutes: done! Yes! I had turned on the AC in the bedroom before I started, and am sitting right up against it, with cold air blowing on my neck. Ahh. Now, the question is, do I bother getting up and making dinner, or do I just go to bed for the night? 🙂

New Jersey Roadtrip!

I was asked to be Marissa’s sponsor for Confirmation, and the day had finally arrived! I took about a week off work and decided to drive out to New Jersey. I asked people about places to stop along the way, and managed to spend at least a little bit of time at each of them.

Thursday, May 19, 2011
I got off to a late start because I was giving people “just a minute more” to send me their prayers for Fr. John’s birthday project. 🙂 I didn’t actually get on the road until about 1 pm. I used my new enhanced driver’s license at the border in Sarnia for the first time and entered a foreign country (!!). It was sunny and beautiful and I quite enjoyed the Canadian countryside as I cruised along listening to Catholic talks on CD. Everything was in bloom, and the wildflowers made wide swaths of yellow, blue and purple in the green of the grass.

When I arrived in Niagara Falls, I stopped on the US side. The park entrance was gorgeous with all of the flowering trees:
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Everything seemed to be in bloom and it was just gorgeous:
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Flowering Tree

The path took me down to the rapids right before the Falls:
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It was a lovely day, and I wished that I had some more time to spend in the park.
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However, I was starting to not feel well and thought it better if I pressed on to Letchworth State Park, where I was going to stay the night. But first, I wanted to walk along the river one more time and maybe walk across that bridge up there…
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This is the view from the bridge (not THE bridge, but a little bridge):
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At the end of the bridge was this flowering tree. I know, it’s a lot of flower pictures, but I’m a sappy flower-loving girl like that! Deal with it! 🙂
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Tulips, tulips, everywhere!
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This is the view of the bridge passing into Grand Island:
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Along the drive through upstate New York, there were several areas with these windmills.
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This part of the drive had the most hills warning trucks to be in low gear. I had been a little anxious about traveling this “mountainous” part of the journey because the weather report had indicated severe thunderstorms, but Thank God! the weather held out. As I got closer to Letchworth, there were fewer and fewer rest areas and cities. By the time I got to Castile, I hadn’t seen another car or another human for a couple hours. It was really disconcerting. It was also getting dark and was about 8:30 pm or so. I got to where the GPS said the park should be, and didn’t see anything. I drove down the road a little further and saw some signs for it, and finally made it to a sign that indicated for me to turn left for the park, but I promise you, there was NO place to turn left! I continued on the road, getting increasingly anxious (mostly because of the lack of people). My GPS wasn’t working, it was getting darker, I couldn’t figure out these signs (there must have been multiple park entrances), and I had 100 miles to empty. I was sure that there was a gas station within 100 miles, but I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to find it. Plus, I was still feeling sick and was looking forward to the bed in that cabin I was going to rent for the night.

After seemingly driving around in circles for 30 minutes, I finally found a park entrance. I was so relieved to see the guard shack! Pulling up to buy my park ticket and arrange for the cabin, I saw that there wasn’t anyone in the booth. Okay. Well, it’s later in the evening, they probably just pulled in to another booth further in, right? There wasn’t any barrier to the park, so I continued my way in. Didn’t see another booth. Didn’t see where the campgrounds or cabins were. Didn’t see any people. Okay, this is creepy. I passed a house on one side of the street and a little parking lot with another building on the other side of the street, but these weren’t labeled as anything, so I continued down the road. I got to the end, where it said, “Service Vehicles Only.” Obviously, this wasn’t where I was supposed to be either. I turned around and headed back. I got back to the house and the parking lot and parked next to the only car in the lot (no people, again). I resigned myself to sleeping in my car for the night. I got out of the car and took a walk around to see what was there. I followed the sound of water down this trail and found a scenic overlook. In the distance, I could see one of the waterfalls lit up:
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I went back to the car and checked out the building next to the parking lot. It was a public restroom! Running water, electricity and everything! Score! 🙂 I turned in and tried to sleep. Not the most comfortable thing I’ve done, but it wasn’t that bad.

Friday, May 20, 2011
I got up pretty early and thought that I should exit the park before I got arrested for trespassing or something. The first think I did was go back down the path to the scenic overlook I had run across the night before. Sadly, it was so foggy that I couldn’t see a thing.

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I cleaned up in the public restrooms, rearranged my car and started to make my way out. My phone, of course, was about dead, so I couldn’t check the GPS or anything. As I made my way back to the park entrance I had come in, I saw a sign for “Lower Falls” and decided to follow it. It ended at a (deserted) parking lot, with a trail leading to the Falls. It was wet and foggy, but quite nice.

Right off the parking lot was this cute little restroom, much more rustic than the one by the parking lot where I stayed the night:
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This is the “trail”:
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This was my first view of the river:
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These were the stairs in the park: stone steps, wet and half covered in leaves. Just what a girl with a neuromuscular disorder needs to be climbing on when there’s not another soul around. Good thing I fancy myself a billy goat and lack a self-preservation gene! 🙂
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Some even had warning signs, which was nice of them.
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This is the first rocky outcropping that I happened upon and immediately scrambled atop it for a better view of the river.
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Views from the rock:
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On the one side of the path were signs like this:
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warning us not to get too close to the edge. The forest just dropped off into the river, and there were no fences or anything to keep people safe from their own stupidity.

This is a picture of how it just drops off into nothing:
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This, I thought was funny, the trail was covered in tree roots. And it was all wet and muddy and quite slippery.
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What was I getting myself into?

My first view of the lower falls! And look, see how it just drops off? I could just walk right over the edge. No safety net.
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There was so much spray coming from the falls that I had a hard time keeping my camera lens dry enough to take a photo.

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I actually was good and didn’t hike beyond the sign. I merely hiked…laterally…closer to the drop off above the falls. 🙂

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Since it was the end of the trail, I had no option but to turn around and head back. This time, I took a moment to check out the other side of the path, dragging my attention away from the water (I’m such a sucker for water!).
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By my first rocky outcropping there were incomplete “stairs” going down to this overlook:
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The outlook itself was almost completely flooded out and very muddy, but it had some great views:
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Here’s looking back at the Lower Falls:
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On the far side of the overlook was another set of stairs heading down, in parallel with the river, leading to a bridge which crossed over to the other side of the park.
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This bridge was pretty high off the water, which is important to remember for the next part of my story:
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See, the bridge itself was flooded out, and I was not a fan of the idea of getting my shoes and socks any more wet and muddy than they already were. So, here I was… Looking at the bridge, trying to think of how I would cross it without getting wet.
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Did you see that? The wall of the bridge? It’s like a ledge. About 18 inches wide. I bet I could walk on that ledge across the bridge.
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I tried to get a picture from the ledge of the river. You know, to document my stupidity, right? So here I am, on an 18″ ledge, looking through a camera… 🙂 I got about 1/2 way across the bridge before I started to get scared of falling, since, despite my billy goat tendencies, I am actually afraid of heights… So, I turned around and went back.

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Now, it was time to ascend back to the car and head again towards New Jersey.
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But first, a stop at another overlook, right by the entrance of the park. You can see why they call this the Grand Canyon of the East. 🙂
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There was another guy there, taking photos. I was so thrilled to see him, because I hadn’t seen another human in 12 hours. I asked him where the nearest gas station was, and after a while, he understood what I was asking and tried to give directions. Thank the Lord the GPS was working, despite the fog! 🙂

Here’s a video clip of the last overlook, before I left Letchworth:

This is what the drive was like: a little rain here and there, some Catholic CDs and a river alongside the road for most of the trip!

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Now entering Pennsylvania!
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There was not too much to see in Pennsylvania, so I pretty much blasted through. However, as I got close to New Jersey, the last exit in Pennzie, in fact, I decided that I had some time to kill and stopped by the Crayola Crayon Factory.
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Completely ironically, Derek was also at the Crayola factory (but the real one, not the tourist one) for a job interview! I picked up some Dry Erase Crayons and Glass Markers and headed off again. 🙂

Now for the raison d’être! Marissa’s Confirmation! We ate dinner that Derek made for us, then got cleaned up and on the way to St. Magdalen de Pazzi Catholic Church in Flemington. All the confirmandi were dressed in red robes. There were a lot of kids being confirmed, and this was just one of two groups! 🙂 Sadly, the church asked that family members not take photographs during the liturgy, so I don’t have too many.

Here’s Marissa in the car on the way to church. Her dress was lacey; she thought it was a rather “Churchy” looking dress. 🙂
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After Mass, we briefly stopped in the social hall and had our picture taken with her priest. We went to TGI Friday’s for a late night snack. There, along with expressing a desire for a disco ball for her room, Marissa said that she wanted to go to confession. Since we were planning on taking a trip to New York City in the morning, I suggested that we see if we can make confession at St. Patrick’s Cathedral. High-fives were exchanged. 🙂

Saturday, May 21, 2011
What can I say? I love trips into the city! 🙂 The crowds of people don’t bother me in the slightest. 🙂 I love all the different buildings and stores. It’s all quite beautiful. Diane got us passes on the Grayline Uptown Bus Tour, which was good, since all my previous trips have been downtown, below say, 60th street. I’ll try not to glut you with photos, but it’s rather difficult for me to not share them all! 🙂

Times Square
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Diane on the tour bus!
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Columbus Circle
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Time-Warner
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All kinds of fancy old buildings on the Upper West side! 🙂
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Cathedral Church of St. John the Divine
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And my favorite of this cathedral:
For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son....

Union Theological Seminary
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General Grant National Memorial
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Brownstones in Harlem
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Public Service Announcement from the City of New York:
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Central Park: I wish I had more time in the city where I could wander around the park
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The Seal of the City
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I love the bird flying on top of this roof!
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The Guggenheim Museum
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This is MY kind of sidewalk! 🙂
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FOOD HALL!
It was getting pretty late in the afternoon and we hadn’t eaten yet…
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I love how detailed this building is!
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The Irish Pub: I wish this pub were more noticable…
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I still have to see this play one of these days!
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Times Square, Again
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Madame Tussaud’s: Our Next Stop!
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Pope John Paul II and I
He’s trying to help me take the photo!
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Marissa and a Rockette
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Diane finding someone shorter than she!
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That’s right, dude! I’m stopping your puck with my foot! Bwahahaha!
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Happy Feet 4D
We are stylin’ in our shades!
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Watch out!
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St. Patrick’s Cathedral
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Chrysler Building
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Church of St. Francis of Assisi
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We had dinner at a place called, I think, Lucky’s, across the street from Penn Station.

Sunday, May 22, 2011
Today was a pretty relaxed day. Diane and I caught the noon Mass at St. Magdalen’s. When we got home, we found a little kitten in the driveway. She was taken in and adopted by the family.
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Throughout the night, we debated names for her.
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Eventually, I think Diane settled on the name Chloe, but we will see if it sticks.
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Monday, May 23, 2011
Their house is next to a farmer’s house, and they even have one cow which is theirs!
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The tub is for washing the dogs. Don’t worry, there’s indoor plumbing! 🙂

Today, Marissa went to school and Derek, Diane and Garrett headed off to work. I thought this would be a great time for me to head over to Wernersville, PA to check out the gravesite of Fr. Walter Ciszek, who wrote the book “He Leadeth Me” which I recently read.

On my way out of town, I passed by St. Magdalen’s and decided to stop and take a few pictures, since it is such a pretty church:
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As I was taking photos, I saw people going into the church. I asked someone and as it turns out, they were having Mass in 5 minutes! What awesome timing! 🙂

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Jesuit Retreat Center at Wernersville, PA
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Jesuit Retreat Center

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Fr. Ciszek’s grave
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I walked through the entire cemetery, praying at each grave marker. It was foggy and wet out and my shoes and jeans got soaked! 🙂 But I loved it. I then popped into the retreat center for a look around. There was a sign on the door that said, “Walk in” and so I did. 🙂
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I took pictures of their artwork, too!
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And their living spaces!
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And their worship spaces!
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Even the entrance to the retreat center was pretty, so on my way out, I parked my car in the middle of the street and took a few photos. 🙂
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It took about 2 hours to get to Wernersville from Stockton, and on the way back, Diane messaged me on Facebook and let me know about some Lost Caverns. I wasn’t sure if I was going to stop by and see them, but as I came up to them on the highway and saw the signs advertising them, I decided to pull off and check it out.

It was pretty neat. This is a photo of one of the first rooms, which had been used previously for weddings. The stuff on the wall is called flowstone.
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This one is an apparently rare and delicate formation where the water comes up from the rock:
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It was interesting to hear stories of how the caverns had been used variously as wedding sites, dance hall, cool storage for the golf course across the street and even for stashing bootleggers’ treasures during the Prohibition!

Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Today’s the day I had to leave to head for home. I had packed most of my stuff the night before and left about 6 am. I drove to Rochester, NY where I met up with Bill McDonald, my godmother’s brother. He met me at the memorial park and showed me her site.
Marker for Pat's remains

It was a beautiful area in the forest. There was a tiny waterfall and creek nearby.
Forest site

We then headed into Rochester proper and had a lovely lunch. It was really nice to be able to catch up with him.

After lunch, I started on the second half of the long trip home. It was pretty uneventful. I didn’t make any random stops, really, although I did make a wrong turn and start heading toward Toronto when I was in Canada. And the thing with my GPS in Canada… It will track you and tell you the upcoming turns and things, but it will not update if you make a wrong turn! But I managed to turn around and find my way back to the correct highway without too much anxiety. It was almost too bad, because I’m sure I would have enjoyed Toronto!

And, who minds a detour when you have cool driving sunglasses like this? Until the next trip, Ciao!

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St. Anastasia Book Club: The Monks of Tibhirine: Faith, Love and Terror in Algeria

MOT

We picked this book to read for April for the St. Anastasia Book Club mostly because I had just seen the movie “Of Gods and Men,” which was excellent. The book is great for giving additional information to support the movie. It spends a lot of time speaking of the political atmosphere in Algeria, of the various factions and of the religious aspect to the conflict. This made for some dry reading, but it was useful, if you were looking for a comprehensive understanding of the situation the monks were in.

Personally, I wasn’t as interested in that part so much as the lives of the monks themselves. While the majority of the attention seemed to be on Christian, the elected prior, each of the monks was revealed in the book. By the end, you really knew them: their personalities, likes, struggles, and a little bit of what Tibhirine and the Islamic community around them meant to them.

Throughout the book were passages which are worthy of copying down and praying with. The lives of these monks teach us so much about community, love, living the faith, dealing with people with different viewpoints with love, and courage.

The book was well-written in that it showed these men as real people: not paragons of virtue, but men with strengths and faults. I think it is precisely in the accurateness of their presentation that we can come to identify with them and learn from them. They did not present an unattainable ideal, but a very human response to the world around them. An excerpt written by Paul, one of the monks, states this beautifully, “A monk is simply a sinner who joins a community of sinners who are confident in God’s mercy and who strive to recognize their weaknesses in the presence of their brothers.”

Below, I’ll quote some of the passages I found particularly inspiring. I’m sorry that I don’t have page numbers for you, as I read the e-book, but if you have the Amazon Kindle version, I’ll cite the location code.

Christian obedience required intelligence and discernment; it could not be simply mechanical. It was never permitted a Christian to commit an evil act, even if commanded to do so by a superior. (1252-55)

How important is this for us to remember, especially as Catholics whose liturgies, with minor deviations, follow a certain formula. It is easy for our participation in Mass, and even our prayers and devotions, to become rote and mechanical — lacking in true feeling and the engagement of our spirit. How necessary is it that we focus and really pay attention to what it is that we are doing.

Old and New Testament…. It’s like a set of teeth. You need the uppers and the lowers or you can’t chew. We can never be content to read a text in isolation, but only within the total context…which is the only hope for understanding the word of God. We need to search for the truth that comes from living, from meeting people, and from love—truths that bring us forward, not those that just titillate the intellect.” (1770-71)

They believed that preaching, education, social work, and good example were the best medicine, the way of da’wa. Da’wa stimulates and promotes regeneration from within by instructing Islamic morality, respect for Islam, and good behavior. (2014-15)

Christian understood perfectly well the importance of the violence in the psalms. He called them a cry that says, “God be just, so I don’t take justice into my own hands. I know I can’t be just when I am angry.” The psalms reminded him of the violence in himself, something he believed was at the core of every person. Nevertheless, Christian thought it was insensitive to be singing psalms of violence when violence was increasing all around them. (2078)

God’s law is not an à la carte menu from which to choose the easy bits, or the agreeable portions. All of it must be consumed, chewed over, and digested. The Koran has a literal meaning and an inner meaning. True understanding, the Prophet said, comes only from grasping both. (2368-70)

With the help of divine inspiration, a scholar of the law will discover the harmony that exists between the ambiguous and the clear. And this will serve to strengthen his faith further. For it is only through study, reflection, and prayer of the heart that one can attain knowledge of God and His unity. (2444-60)

I love this: “prayer of the heart.” It has been pointed out to me that studying faith without having faith yourself is merely “religious studies.” If you truly want to be a theologian, you must live the faith. Mind, body and soul. There is no disunity in the Body of Christ.

My favorite:
“Let’s talk about the cross,” the Sufi said.
“Which one?” I asked him.
“The cross of Jesus, obviously.”
“Yes, but which? When you look at the cross, you see an image of Jesus—but how many crosses do you see?”
“Perhaps three, certainly two,” the Sufi replied, thinking a bit.
“There is one in front and one behind.”
“Which comes from God?” I asked him.
“The one in front,” he said.
“Which comes from men?”
“The one behind.”
“Which is the oldest?”
“The one in front…. God had to create the first one before man could make the second one.”
“What is the meaning of the cross in front, of the man with his arms extended?”
“When I extend my arms, he said, “its for embracing, for loving.”
“And the other?” I asked.
“The other cross is an instrument of hatred, for disfiguring love.”
“My Sufi friend had said, “Perhaps three.” This third cross—isn’t it perhaps he and I and this common effort we are making to loosen ourselves from the cross of evil and sin behind, so we can bind ourselves to the cross of love in front? Isn’t this just what is happening when a Jew, Yitzhak Rabin and a Muslim, Yasir Arafat, yesterday committed themselves by their revolutionary handshake to renounce finally the sword and to plow together in peace the hard soil they share? Isn’t that gesture, the struggle of moving from hatred toward love, a third cross?” (2497)

This was just beautiful. I don’t think I’ll be able to look at a crucifix in quite the same way again. I don’t think that this in any way should lessen our reverence for the cross [thinking of the way we kiss the wood of the cross during Good Friday devotions], but rather be thankful for it. God was there for us all along, with His arms outstretched, waiting for us to walk into the embrace which was being freely offered to us. However, we were unable to see His posture of love until the cross brought this into relief. It is because of the cross that we are able to see the love of God.

“If it should happen one day, and that could be tomorrow, that I am a victim of the terrorism which seems now to be engulfing all the foreigners living in Algeria, I would like my community, my church, and my family to remember that I gave my life for God and this country.” (2533-37)

When Christian read about Attia in the Algerian press, he decided to become his intercessor. “I felt I was my brother’s keeper, even of the brother in front of me that night. As his keeper, I should be able to find in him more than that which he had become.” At a retreat in Algiers, Christian gave three reasons to justify his intervention before the final judge: “He didn’t slit our throats; he came outside when I asked him and then didn’t return for Luc even when he was wounded; thirdly, he excused himself when I told him he was disturbing our celebration of the birth of the Prince of Peace.” (2785-91)

What a way to love one’s enemies! In this, Christian isn’t even “loving one’s enemy,” but truly seeing that enemy as not an enemy at all, but a brother.

Christian understood this difficulty with forgiveness. He and Christophe thought much alike. Yet he was upset when he was told by the wali that the bodies of some of the terrorists had been dragged by Jeeps through the streets of Medea. The wali defended the exhibition of the bodies. The terrorists were “filthy beasts.” Christian reproached him. With that kind of thinking, he said, the cycle of violence would never be broken. The wali’s remark was a wound that went to the heart of Christian’s faith. All men are created in God’s image. God is present in all his children, including killers. It is never too late for his children to come home, to become infants of God. Without gratuitous love, the bloody engine of reciprocal murder would never stop. (2791-92)

Without a belief in God’s presence in all his creatures, no matter how dim the spark might seem, men lose their humanity. (2815)

Amen! Just see what is happening in our culture with its widespread secularization.

“What holds us here is not our Christian values, but the relationship to Christ,” (2823-24)

You pulled me out of the grave in order to live by You, with You, and in You. You, Your care, Your anxiety, Your agony—that is now ours.” (2825-26)

“The concept of total war is not Islam. Islam says you can kill only those who threaten you. You never kill women, children, or religious people unless they are themselves in combat.” (3044-46)

I think we need to keep this in mind. There are a lot of people who are quick to demonize all Muslims for the transgressions of a few, who may not be living out the Islamic faith as it is meant to be lived. They cause scandal by their actions. As Catholics, we are far too often guilty of this ourselves. There are many times where our example, our lives, are not consonant with the teachings of the Church and we too give scandal and give a bad impression of what it means to be a Catholic.

“Men never do evil as thoroughly or as joyfully as when they do it in the name of God.” (3511-12, quoting Thomas Merton)

Pride, rearing its ugly head.

How far does one go to save his skin without running the risk of losing his soul? (3536-37)

Would that this passage stay with me during all the times of trial in my life.

when I recognize my weakness, I can accept that of others, and see a way for me to imitate Christ. (3667-68)

Merton’s famous description of monks: “trees that exist in obscure silence, but by their presence purify the air.” (3861-97)

Christian then described the five pillars of behavior that must be practiced daily to have peace. He began with patience. Saint Benedict had explained its importance: Inside the monastic enclosure, persevering in their calling until death, monks participate through their patience in the sufferings of Christ.” “There is no word for martyr in the Trappist constitution,” Christian elaborated, “nor reference to a bloody death. There is only the demand for patience and endurance in living each day.” After the Christmas visit by the montagnards, Cardinal Duval had counseled Christian with one word—la Constance—“perseverance.” Poverty was the second pillar. “The future belongs to God, not to us. Man does not have the imagination of God, so when we think of the future, we think of it as being like the past.” To want to imagine the future is only wishful thinking. Christian reminded his listeners that, in the Old Testament, God provided the Israelites with manna each day. But if they tried to gather more than they needed, storing it up for the next day, they found that it spoiled. “The future is like a tunnel. You can’t see anything inside, and only a fool would expect it to look the same upon exiting as upon entering it. When it comes to recruiting for our monastery today, we have no one to approach in Algeria. And among the people, whom are we going to ask? We must simply let the Spirit do its work and fish for souls. That is what I call poverty—to have need only for that which You have always given me.” Christian’s third pillar was presence. God is in all his children, and when one kills another, one kills the image of God. In every human being, there is something eternal, something more than a homicidal act. “This is why I cannot kill myself,” Christian recalled the words of the Jewish philosopher Emmanuel Levinas, whom he admired. “Morality entered the world by the commandment ‘Thou shalt not kill.’ The first words a person’s face says to another is, respect me. Killing can take different forms, as all who live in a community know. A contemptuous attitude, a wounding word, phrases that assassinate are other ways to kill.” Christian reminded his audience of John’s words: He who hates his brother is a murderer. “Each person must ask, ‘Have I eradicated all forms of hatred from my heart?’ We cannot live in this country today, wishing for peace, if we don’t go to this extreme of removing hatred from ourselves…and no one can say he has done this. “When I approach my neighbor, I also become his guardian, which means to become his hostage. Justice begins with the other. Take the case of Sayah Attia. I was not only the guardian of my brothers in the monastery but his guardian, too, of this man who stood opposite me and who should have been able to discover within himself something more than what he had become. I think this happened in some small measure, to the degree that he gave way that night, or made an effort to understand me. People say these types are disgusting animals, they are not human, and that you can’t deal with them. I say that if we talk like that, there will never be peace.” Prayer is the fourth pillar. “Do we pray enough for one another, for all people without any limits?” Christian asked. “Saint Paul wrote in Romans, In trying times, persevere in prayer…. We could not keep going if we did not pray and, in our prayers, seek to rid ourselves of the spirit of violence, prejudice, and rejection within us. After the episode with Attia, I wanted to pray for him. What should I pray to God? ‘Kill him?’ No, but I could pray, ‘Disarm him.’ But then I asked myself, Do I have the right to ask God to disarm him if I don’t begin by asking, ‘Disarm me, disarm my brothers.’ That was my prayer each day.” Finally, he spoke of that all-important word, forgiveness. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. We must dig into ourselves to follow the path of forgiveness…to rid ourselves of the tendency to want to choose one side or the other, to give a prize for good and evil—yes, we monks have this instinct, too. So we called the terrorists the “brothers of the mountain” and the army “the brothers of the plain.” The terms are useful for talking on the phone, but it was also a way of maintaining an open, fraternal spirit toward all sides. Coincidentally, Forgiveness is the first name for God in the Muslim litany of ninety-nine names for the divine—Ar Rahman. And the last is Patience—Es Sabur. But God is also poverty, God is presence, and God is prayer. This is the peace that God gives us. It is not as the world gives it.” (4140-42)

On Sunday, May 26, forty thousand churches throughout France tolled their bells for the monks. It was the first time since Pope John Paul I died in 1978 that such a countrywide commemoration had occurred. (4400-4401)

The caskets were placed beside their respective graves. Each one had been dug by people from the village, who had swept the dirt and tidied up the area in preparation for receiving their babas. (4401)

This is a photo of the graves of the kidnapped and murdered monks.

Happy Birthday to My Car!

Wow!
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It’s hard to believe that I am at 100,000 miles already! My car is just a little over 3 years old!

It has been a great car so far and I hope that it has a long, long life ahead of it yet! 🙂

What a Beautiful Morning!

This picture is taken from a great article on genetic engineering by Mercatornet.com.
Chromosomes
I think that it represents me today very well. I feel happy and brightly colored on a subcellular level. 🙂

This is a great morning! I was running a bit late getting out the door, but I had clean clothes in the dryer and gas in the car. Traffic was light and fast (!) and I made it to Mass early (YAY!). Mass was beautiful. It was one of those times where you are completely immersed in the liturgy and feel very connected to Christ.

After Mass, I went to my favorite Starbucks in Plymouth, and was served an iced (no-ice) caramel mocha. Oh YUM!

Even though I feel pretty weak today, on a muscular level, my energy level is high and I feel like dancing or skating or something. I blasted my dancey music all the way in to work. 🙂

On the bus ride in to work, I read some more of Jesus of Nazareth by Pope Benedict XVI and was struck by several insightful passages, based on the parable of the Good Samaritan.

“I have to become like someone in love, someone whose heart is open to being shaken up by another’s need.”

“The risk of goodness is something we must relearn from within, but we can do that only if we ourselves become good from within, if we ourselves are ‘neighbors’ from within, and if we then have an eye for the sort of service that is asked of us, that is possible for us, and is therefore also expected of us, in our environment and within the wider ambit of our lives.”

“Man is, they said, spoliatus supernaturalibus and vulneratus in naturalibus: bereft of the splendor of the supernatural grace he had received and wounded in nature.”

“From earthly history alone, from its cultures and religions alone, no healing comes.”

“God himself, who for us is foreign and distant, has set out to take care of his wounded creature…. He pours oil and wine into our wounds, a gesture seen as an image of the healing gift of the sacraments, and he brings us to the inn, the Church, in which he arranges for our care and also pays a deposit for the cost of that care.”

After work today, I anticipate meeting up with a friend and attending a prayer meeting on healing. Can’t wait to see how the rest of the day will unfold! 🙂

Happy Friday!

St. Anastasia Book Club: He Leadeth Me

HLM

Welcome! St. Anastasia’s Parish Library is sponsoring a book club, which I will be facilitating. In order to encourage greater community participation, I will update which books we will be reading here, and encourage anyone who is unable to make our monthly meetings to read along with us and join us on this online discussion forum by commenting below.

This month’s book will be He Leadeth Me by Walter Ciszek.

Here is a recommendation for the book by Jennifer Fulwiler, a recent convert to Catholicism, who has an excellent blog at Conversion Diary.

This stunning autobiographical account of Fr. Ciszek’s wrongful imprisonment in Russia is one of the most life-changing books I’ve ever read. I read it more than a year ago and yet I still find myself thinking about it almost daily.

What was most surprising to me was how applicable the lessons he learned are to modern American life. His insights about everything from suffering to discerning God’s will to trusting God in all things — which he learned the hard way during five years of brutal solitary confinement and fifteen years in a Siberian death camp — are amazingly inspiring, whether you’re experiencing great suffering or just feeling numbed by the daily grind. I particularly loved his thoughts on how to maintain a lively spiritual life even when life feels mundane or boring. I highly, highly recommend this book.

The Lord’s Passion

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The following is a quote from the book “I Don’t Have Enough Faith to Be an Atheist,” by Norman Geisler and Frank Turek.  It is a graphic and disturbing description of the Lord’s Passion.  For me, this is a great passage to reflect upon and pray with, especially as we draw closer to Lent.

The whip the Roman soldiers use on Jesus has small iron balls and sharp pieces of sheep bones tied to it.  Jesus is stripped of his clothing, and has his hands tied to an upright post.  His back, buttocks, and legs are whipped either by one soldier or by two who alternate positions.  The soldiers taunt their victim.  As they repeatedly strike Jesus’ back with full force, the iron balls cause deep contusions, and the sheep bones cut into the skin and tissues.  As the whipping continues, the lacerations tear into the underlying skeletal muscles and produce quivering ribbons of bleeding flesh.  Pain and blood loss set the stage for circulatory shock.

When it is determined by the centurion in charge that Jesus is near death, the beating is finally stopped.  The half-fainting Jesus is then untied and allowed to slump to the stone pavement, wet with his own blood.  The Roman soldiers see a great joke in this provincial Jew claiming to be a king.  They throw a robe across his shoulders and place a stick in his hand for a scepter.  They still need a crown to make their travesty complete.  A small bundle of flexible branches covered in long thorns are plaited into the shape of a crown, and this is pressed into his scalp.  Again there is copious bleeding (the scalp being one of the most vascular areas of the body).  After mocking him and striking him across the face, the soldiers take the stick from his hand and strike him across the head, driving the thorns deeper into his scalp.

Finally, when they tire of their sadistic sport, the robe is torn from his back.  The robe had already become adherent to the clots of blood and serum in the wounds, and its removal — just as in the careless removal of a surgical bandage — causes excruciating pain, almost as though he were being whipped again.  The wounds again begin to bleed.  In deference to Jewish custom, the Romans return his garments.  The heavy horizontal beam of the cross is tied across his shoulders, and the procession of the condemned Christ, two thieves, and the execution party walk along the Via Dolorosa.  In spite of his efforts to walk erect, the weight of the heavy wooden beam, together with the shock produced by copious blood loss, is too much.  He stumbles and falls.  The rough wood of the beam gouges into the lacerated skin and muscles of the shoulders.  He tries to rise, but human muscles have been pushed beyond their endurance.  The centurion, anxious to get on with the crucifixion, selects a stalwart North African onlooker, Simon of Cyrene, to carry the cross.  Jesus follows, still bleeding and sweating the cold, clammy sweat of shock.

The 650-yard journey from the fortress of Antonia to Golgotha is finally completed.  Jesus is again stripped of his clothes except for a loincloth which is allowed the Jews.  The crucifixion begins.  Jesus is offered wine mixed with myrrh, a mild pain-killing mixture.  He refuses to drink.  Simon is ordered to place the cross beam on the ground, and Jesus is quickly thrown backward with his shoulders against the wood.  The legionnaire feels for the depression at the front of the wrist.  He drives a heavy, square, wrought-iron nail through the wrist and deep into the wood.  Quickly, he moves to the other side and repeats the action, being careful not to pull the arms too tight, but to allow some flexibility and movement.  The beam is then lifted, and the title reading “Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews” is nailed in place.

The victim Jesus is now crucified.  As he slowly sags down with more weight on the nails in the wrists, excruciating, fiery pain shoots along the fingers and up the arms to explode in the brain — the nails in the wrists are putting pressure on the median nerves.  As he pushes himself upward to avoid this stretching torment, he places his full weight on the nail through his feet.  Again, there is the searing agony of the nail tearing through the nerves between the metatarsal bones of the feet.  At this point, another phenomenon occurs.  As the arms fatigue, great waves of cramps sweep over the muscles, knotting them in deep, relentless, throbbing pain.  With these cramps comes the inability to push himself upward.  Hanging by his arms, the pectoral muscles are paralyzed, and the intercostal muscles are unable to act.  Air can be drawn into the lungs but it cannot be exhaled.  Jesus fights to raise himself in order to get even one short breath.  Finally, carbon dioxide builds up in the lungs and in the bloodstream, and the cramps partially subside.  Spasmodically, he is able to push himself upward to exhale and bring in life-giving oxygen.  It is undoubtedly during these periods that he utters the seven short sentences that are recorded.

Now begins hours of this limitless pain, cycles of cramping and twisting, partial asphyxiation, searing pain as tissue is torn from his lacerated back as he moves up and down against the rough timber.  Then another agony begins.  A deep, crushing pain in the chest as the pericardium slowly fills with serum and begins to compress the heart.  It is now almost over — the loss of tissue fluids has reached a critical level; the compressed heart is struggling to pump heavy, thick, sluggish blood into the tissues; the tortured lungs are making a frantic effort to gasp in small gulps of air.  The markedly dehydrated tissues send their flood of stimuli to the brain.  His mission of atonement has been completed.  Finally he can allow his body to die.  With one last surge of strength, he once again presses his torn feet against the nail, straightens his legs, takes a deeper breath, and utters his seventh and last cry:  “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”

Why We Tell the Story

Is anyone else daunted at the challenge we are all called to?  Of evangelization?  Proclaiming the Gospel to all the world?

Once on this Island | Orem High School

Oddly enough, I gain inspiration to do this from one of my favorite musicals:  Once on this Island, which I was introduced to in high school (which happens to be polytheistic in presentation).  In particular from the closing song, “Why We Tell the Story”:

And she stands against the lightning and the thunder
And she shelters and protects us from above
And she fills us with the power and the wonder
Of her love

And this is why
We tell the story

Why we tell the story

Why we tell the story
Why we tell the story

If you listen very hard you hear her call us
To come share with her our laughter and our tears
And there’s mysteries and miracles befall us
Through the years

We tell the story
We tell the story!

Life is why
We tell the story
Pain is why
We tell the story
Love is why
We tell the story
Grief is why
We tell the story
Hope is why
We tell the story
Faith is why
We tell the story
You are why
We tell the story
Why we tell the story
Why we tell the story
Why we tell the story

So I hope that you will tell this tale tomorrow
It will help your heart remember and relive
It will help you feel the anger and the sorrow
And forgive

For all the ones we leave
And we believe
Our lives become
The stories that we weave

Once On This Island - 2008 - MFAA

I find resonance in this song of the Christian life. There is joy, sorrow, pain, grief, and hope. Stories connect us to each other and stories teach us. Why do we proclaim the Gospel? To help others live this life well. To grab people by their hearts and impart the faith which saves.

What does this song highlight for me?
There is a God who fills us with the power and the wonder of His love.
A God who calls us to share with Him our laughter and our tears. Our prayer should be sincere and intimate, and not reserved for those times when we feel pious, but perhaps especially when we are not, or when we do not feel like praying.
The Gospel has relevance for every aspect of life.
The Gospel is the reason for our hope and our faith.
We need to keep ever before us His passion, which He suffered on our account, and to forgive those who have wronged us.

But perhaps most of all, because our lives do become the stories that we weave. What we say, what we repeat, what we choose to expose ourselves to… all these things shape us into the person we are. We are what we repeatedly do. What stories am I incorporating into myself and sharing with others?

It also contains a fundamental truth of the interconnectedness of all human persons. We are made for relationship and we are made to uphold and uplift each other.

So, why do we tell the story?

YOU are why!
🙂

Halloween 2010

I love Halloween! It’s so much fun to dress up…and then, there’s the candy! 🙂

I actually managed to buy pumpkins early this year (instead of stealing from children and knocking over little old ladies on Devil’s Night to get some pumpkins).

I let my brother, who is my personal pumpkin carver (and who is WAY AWESOME at this), have free reign over this year’s theme. I ended up getting Freddy and Jason! Sweet! Look at them, aren’t they great?!
Freddy Pumpkin - dscn0074Jason Pumpkin - dscn0075

Lindsay and I celebrated the evening by meeting up with Erwin at a bar which was having a costume contest. I left before the judging, but Lindsay won 2nd place! 🙂

Here’s Lindsay in her SuperGirl costume (This outfit is rated PG-13):
SuperGirl - dscn0077

And this is one tough chick! Look! She’s not even afraid when confronted by PacMan…and he’s notorious for how much he eats! 🙂
SuperGirl and Pacman - dscn0079

Everyone knows that superheroes congregate at bars, so when Captain America arrived, we knew it was time for a photo op! 🙂 This is the two of them looking fierce:
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And at the end of the night, Bo Peep went home to count her sheep — to make sure she hadn’t lost any….
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