While much of the focus today will be on New York City and Washington, DC, the small town of Shanksville, PA will have its moment on the stage as well. Its light, however, will shine just as bright as its big city bretheren, perhaps even brighter because of what happened there.
The 'blog Right Wing Nation has this tribute.
Fr. Martin Fox, the host of the 'blog Bonfire of the Vanities, visited there this past summer and recalls his impressions.
Monday, September 11, 2006
Time And Place
December 7, 1941
November 22, 1963
September 11, 2001
It seems every generation has a moment in its lifetime when a single incident captures its attention and indelibly engraves it in its collective memory. People can recall where they were when they heard the news in incredible detail. This phenomena seems to create a bond and give shape to the identity of those who lived in that time.
This day is such a moment in time for me.
I was working for a wholesale magazine distributor in their return department, just 10 months into my employment with them, when the news broke. Someone from the front office made the announcement. The department's supervisor had a small radio to which she was listening and quick changed to a local radio station which was broadcasting a national feed. Work in my department came to a near standstill as we listened to the events unfold for about the next hour.
My first reaction was that of disbelief. Then, again, how many people thought something like this could happen? Once the reality and gravity of the situation became apparent, whatever feelings of being safe and secure within the borders of this country were now shaken. I was very aware of the tactic of suicide bombers in the Middle East. Would this now open the way for that to happen on our soil? Why wouldn't someone target a shopping mall, school building, civic center, or even a house of worship, now that there was a sense of being emboldened by this?
I felt a loss of power, even though I had none in this situation. I felt a sense of helplessness, knowing there was nothing I could do to prevent something from happening to me. While the loss of human life is tragic, the psychological aspect was affectively sending its shockwaves throughout the rest of the country. But I also felt something else, something which began to counter whatever terror wanted to reside with me.
I felt a sense of hope. I realized that this was in God's hands. There was nothing I could do but to trust in His infinite power, to let Him straighten this crooked line, to place this sense of fear and loss of innocence in His care. A classic case of "letting go and letting God."
The high school volleyball matches I was scheduled to officiate that night were postponed. I spent the evening at my favorite sports bar, but no games were played. The media coverage was still in full force and I was able to catch some of the clips of the horrific events after the first plane hit. I was speaking to an acquaintance of mine while our eyes were glued to a TV set. His reaction was not one of fear. He was angry that someone would act like a cat and use the soil of the United States as kitty litter, although he used a little more colorful language than I.
As we left the bar that night, we both saw a red dot in the southwestern evening sky. It seemed it was not moving. We had no idea what it was. Mars? A plane? We never did come to a conclusion, even after a few days. (I would be interested in knowing if anyone else saw that.)
The next day at work I found Old Glory in one of the lockers. The flagpole in front of the building had been empty for a long time. During a break, I hoisted our country's flag to the top. To this day, as far as I know, it is still flying, although another one has taken its place.
I know the images which have come from this are not ones we wish to remember. It seems there are some who wish we could somehow forget the entire day. We cannot; we must and will remember.
For me and my generation, this is the "day which will live in infamy."
This day is such a moment in time for me.
I was working for a wholesale magazine distributor in their return department, just 10 months into my employment with them, when the news broke. Someone from the front office made the announcement. The department's supervisor had a small radio to which she was listening and quick changed to a local radio station which was broadcasting a national feed. Work in my department came to a near standstill as we listened to the events unfold for about the next hour.
My first reaction was that of disbelief. Then, again, how many people thought something like this could happen? Once the reality and gravity of the situation became apparent, whatever feelings of being safe and secure within the borders of this country were now shaken. I was very aware of the tactic of suicide bombers in the Middle East. Would this now open the way for that to happen on our soil? Why wouldn't someone target a shopping mall, school building, civic center, or even a house of worship, now that there was a sense of being emboldened by this?
I felt a loss of power, even though I had none in this situation. I felt a sense of helplessness, knowing there was nothing I could do to prevent something from happening to me. While the loss of human life is tragic, the psychological aspect was affectively sending its shockwaves throughout the rest of the country. But I also felt something else, something which began to counter whatever terror wanted to reside with me.
I felt a sense of hope. I realized that this was in God's hands. There was nothing I could do but to trust in His infinite power, to let Him straighten this crooked line, to place this sense of fear and loss of innocence in His care. A classic case of "letting go and letting God."
The high school volleyball matches I was scheduled to officiate that night were postponed. I spent the evening at my favorite sports bar, but no games were played. The media coverage was still in full force and I was able to catch some of the clips of the horrific events after the first plane hit. I was speaking to an acquaintance of mine while our eyes were glued to a TV set. His reaction was not one of fear. He was angry that someone would act like a cat and use the soil of the United States as kitty litter, although he used a little more colorful language than I.
As we left the bar that night, we both saw a red dot in the southwestern evening sky. It seemed it was not moving. We had no idea what it was. Mars? A plane? We never did come to a conclusion, even after a few days. (I would be interested in knowing if anyone else saw that.)
The next day at work I found Old Glory in one of the lockers. The flagpole in front of the building had been empty for a long time. During a break, I hoisted our country's flag to the top. To this day, as far as I know, it is still flying, although another one has taken its place.
I know the images which have come from this are not ones we wish to remember. It seems there are some who wish we could somehow forget the entire day. We cannot; we must and will remember.
For me and my generation, this is the "day which will live in infamy."
Monday, September 04, 2006
The Dash
I found this on the 'blog Life Behind The Zion Curtain. The 'blogmistress, Catherine Garcia, sent me the background to this. The poem is by Linda Ellis. It is about how we spend our lives between the day we are born to the day we pass away. On this Labor Day, it is also a reminder of the words of John Paul II, who said that work was created for man, not man for work.
Go here to view.
Our first "job" is to love.
Go here to view.
Our first "job" is to love.
Jesus Had No Servants
Jesus had no servants, yet they called Him Master.
He had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher.
He had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.
He had no army, yet kings feared Him.
He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.
He committed no crime, but they crucified Him.
He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.
Feel honored to serve such a Leader Who loves us.
He had no degree, yet they called Him Teacher.
He had no medicines, yet they called Him Healer.
He had no army, yet kings feared Him.
He won no military battles, yet He conquered the world.
He committed no crime, but they crucified Him.
He was buried in a tomb, yet He lives today.
Feel honored to serve such a Leader Who loves us.
(Fedora Doff to Catherine Garcia, who has graciously sent this to me as well.)
God Lives Under The Bed
Fedora doff to Catherine Garcia, who also has this posted on her 'blog in its original form. I have edited it slightly.
I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night. He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen. "Are you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed."
I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world in which Kevin lives.
He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old and he always will. He will probably always believe God lives under his bed, Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas, and airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.
I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed. The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.
He does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work. He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.
And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. "That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands. His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips. He doesn't know what it means to be discontent. His life is simple. He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.
His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax. He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others.
His heart is pure. He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue. Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere.
And he trusts God. Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God--to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.
In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith. It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions. It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances--they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.
Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God. And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.
Kevin won't be surprised at all!
Trust me when I tell you that whoever deos not accept the kingdom of God as a child will not enter into it.
++++++++++
I envy Kevin. My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night. He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen. "Are you there, God?" he said. "Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed."
I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world in which Kevin lives.
He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult. He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old and he always will. He will probably always believe God lives under his bed, Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas, and airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.
I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life? Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed. The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.
He does not seem dissatisfied. He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work. He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.
And Saturdays-oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. "That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands. His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips. He doesn't know what it means to be discontent. His life is simple. He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.
His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it. He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax. He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others.
His heart is pure. He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue. Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere.
And he trusts God. Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God--to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.
In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith. It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions. It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances--they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.
Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God. And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.
++++++++++
Trust me when I tell you that whoever deos not accept the kingdom of God as a child will not enter into it.
Luke 18:17
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Facets Of Love
I am fortunate I have things to post, sent by other people, when my own inspirations are not forthcoming. This is part of another forwarded e-mail, edited in format but not content:
The man without love has known nothing of God, for God is love....God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.
++++++++++
God's Love
We call it mercy; it is God's forgiving love.
We call it providence; it is God's caring love.
We call it kindness; it is God's understanding love.
We call it Christ's Passion and Death; it is God's proven love.
We call it happiness; it is God's encouraging love.
We call it the will of God; it is God's unerring love.
We call it Heaven; it is God's rewarding love.
We call it eternity; it is God's unending love.
++++++++++
We call it mercy; it is God's forgiving love.
We call it providence; it is God's caring love.
We call it kindness; it is God's understanding love.
We call it Christ's Passion and Death; it is God's proven love.
We call it happiness; it is God's encouraging love.
We call it the will of God; it is God's unerring love.
We call it Heaven; it is God's rewarding love.
We call it eternity; it is God's unending love.
++++++++++
The man without love has known nothing of God, for God is love....God is love, and he who abides in love abides in God, and God in him.
1 John 4: 8, 16b
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
Regina Coeli
Today the Church celebrates the occassion when the Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, was given the crown as Queen of Heaven and Earth.
Her role is that of Queen Mother, a powerful advocate for us as found in the story of the wedding feast at Cana. While we supplicate her, we are also reminded of the words she told the wine stewards: "Do everything He tells you." (UPDATE: Julie D. gets a fedora doff for this article explaining the Queenship of Mary.)
Where she has gone, we hope to follow.
Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae: vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve. Ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae. Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle. Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte. Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, nobis post hoc exsilium ostende. O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria. Amen.
Hail holy Queen, mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us. And after this our exile show unto us the blessed Fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary. Amen.
Her role is that of Queen Mother, a powerful advocate for us as found in the story of the wedding feast at Cana. While we supplicate her, we are also reminded of the words she told the wine stewards: "Do everything He tells you." (UPDATE: Julie D. gets a fedora doff for this article explaining the Queenship of Mary.)
Where she has gone, we hope to follow.
**********
Salve, Regina, mater misericordiae: vita, dulcedo, et spes nostra, salve. Ad te clamamus exsules filii Hevae. Ad te suspiramus, gementes et flentes in hac lacrimarum valle. Eia, ergo, advocata nostra, illos tuos misericordes oculos ad nos converte. Et Iesum, benedictum fructum ventris tui, nobis post hoc exsilium ostende. O clemens, O pia, O dulcis Virgo Maria. Amen.
++++++++++
Hail holy Queen, mother of mercy, our life, our sweetness, and our hope. To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve. To thee do we send up our sighs, mourning and weeping in this valley of tears. Turn then, most gracious Advocate, thine eyes of mercy toward us. And after this our exile show unto us the blessed Fruit of thy womb, Jesus. O clement, O loving, O sweet Virgin Mary. Amen.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
A Son Is Given
Congratulations to Rich Leonardi. He is the proud parent of a healthy baby boy, delivered yesterday afternoon.
Details here.
Details here.
Monday, August 07, 2006
Sunday, August 06, 2006
Bumper Sticker Shock
On my way home from Mass I saw this bumper sticker on the back of a vehicle:
I thought to myself, "Does this person see the contradiction?" Granted, the first thing to do is define what is meant by "pro-child". For the sake of this post, let it mean to be an advocate for policies to help children. Now, tell me, how does supporting the right to choose an abortion a good policy for children when it denies the right for a child to exist?
Poor (pro-) choice, indeed. Man is a consistant inconsistancy, are we not?
PRO-CHILD/PRO-CHOICE
I thought to myself, "Does this person see the contradiction?" Granted, the first thing to do is define what is meant by "pro-child". For the sake of this post, let it mean to be an advocate for policies to help children. Now, tell me, how does supporting the right to choose an abortion a good policy for children when it denies the right for a child to exist?
Poor (pro-) choice, indeed. Man is a consistant inconsistancy, are we not?
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