1/22/1973 x 35

Another January 22, another Roe v. Wade and Doe v. Dalton anniversary.

Number 35 for those of you keeping score at home.

For those of you wanting to send the appropriate gift for this occasion, the traditional one would consist of coral while the modern approach would be something of jade.

Somehow, I think the pro-lifers would appreciate the irony if the precious green gemstone were sent to them. They have been jaded by the political process of reversing this judicial decision for the past four decades. They can't even get a sincere promise ring from their suitors.

Yet they continue to fight the good fight. Silent No More, Rachel's Vineyard, Priests For Life, Pro-Life Across America. These groups among the many who fight for life. Those among the millions of people who ora et labora for this to end. Picking up this cross every day and carrying it up toward what they hope will be their version of Calvary. Mindful of what Blessed Teresa of Calcutta said in her acceptance speech of the 1979 Nobel Peace Prize:

...We are talking of peace. These are things that break peace, but I feel the greatest destroyer of peace today is abortion, because it is a direct war, a direct killing -- direct murder by the mother herself. And we read in the Scripture, for God says very clearly: Even if a mother could forget her child -- I will not forget you -- I have carved you in the palm of my hand. We are carved in the palm of His hand, so close to Him that unborn child has been carved in the hand of God. And that is what strikes me most, the beginning of that sentence, that even if a mother could forget something impossible -- but even if she could forget -- I will not forget you. And today the greatest means -- the greatest destroyer of peace is abortion....

Yes, peace. How can we be at peace when society has "written" into our laws permission to terminate ourselves into extinction? How can we claim to be a rational creature when we have "logically" determined eventually not to exist? How can we exercise the faculty which make us the most unique of creatures when we have chosen death rather than life?

Makes one wonder if God cringes more about giving us reasoning ability rather than free will.

But, yet again, the annual big skirmish has happened. The marches across the country are over. The speeches have been made. Both sides have had their say. Point and counter-point; thrust and parry. In this battle of the Culture War, the bullets may be words but the casualties can be counted.

Still no winner.

Still no prize.

Still no peace.

Checkmate

I learned to play chess when I was seven.

I was ten when he became the undisputed "chairman of the board."

Now, I learn of this.

Seemingly another brilliant mind consumed by itself.

May God have mercy on his soul.

Ring And Sing

Make sure you have the lyrics down as cold as the beverage which you will toast the beginning of 2008.

Celebrate your new beginnings.

Happy New Year!

Dim Reflections

The year has come and gone.

Not a lot of original posts the past twelve months.

Then, again, things have been a struggle.

I thought 2006 was a wild roller-coaster ride.

2007 turned me upside down.

Leaving all that was familiar to me has been a challenge.

Trying to trust God this is the right thing to do.

There is still more fear in me than I want to acknowledge.

I am as good at walking on water as St. Peter.

But, then again, what can I do but repeat my mantra for the last three years.

"Lord, I do believe; help my unbelief."

See you in the coming year.

Like Deacon, Like King

Good King Wenceslas looked out on the Feast of Stephen,
When the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even.
Brightly shone the moon that night, though the frost was cruel,
When a poor man came in sight, gathering winter fuel.

“Hither, page, and stand by me, if you know it, telling,
Yonder peasant, who is he? Where and what his dwelling?”
“Sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain,
Right against the forest fence, by Saint Agnes’ fountain.”

“Bring me food and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither,
You and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither.”
Page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together,
Through the cold wind’s wild lament and the bitter weather.

“Sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger,
Fails my heart, I know not how; I can go no longer.”
“Mark my footsteps, my good page, tread now in them boldly,
You shall find the winter’s rage freeze your blood less coldly.”

In his master’s steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;
Heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.
Therefore, Christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,
You who now will bless the poor shall yourselves find blessing.

Proof Positive

What do you mean Santa Claus doesn't exist?!

He has his own 'blog.

(I'm amazed he found time to post last night.)

Simple White Envelope

As a reminder of the inspiration and "reason for the season", I pass along this story, sent to me by an acquaintance.

++++++++++

It's just a small white envelope stuck among the branches of our Christmas tree. No name, no identification, no inscription. It has peeked through the branches of our tree for the past 10 years or so.

It all began because my husband Mike hated Christmas--oh, not the true meaning of Christmas, but the commercial aspects of it: the overspending, the frantic running around at the last minute to get a tie for Uncle Harry and the dusting powder for Grandma--the gifts given in desperation because you couldn't think of anything else.

Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties, and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended. Shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes.

As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat.

Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids--all kids--and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse.

That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition--one year sending a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas, and on and on. The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning, and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents.

As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year due to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope.

Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember Christ, who is the reason for the season, and the true Christmas spirit this year and always.

2007 Christmas Card

"We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage."
(Matthew 2:2b)
In Him, may we find what we seek:
"Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests."
(Luke 2:14)
May Peace, Joy, and Love fill you and those you hold near and dear.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2007 Christmas Eve Reflection

It started snowing about 3:00 PM today and is falling steadily. In fact, as I am writing this, the area is under a snow advisory until 4:00 AM tomorrow morning. There will be a guaranteed White Christmas this year. Now living in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains, I can see the peaks getting dusted. When it had snowed earlier this fall, I enjoyed looking at the snow upon this range of the Rockies. In fact, I was looking forward to seeing this sight when I arrived here.

Ah, yes, snow-covered mountains. And a desert valley. Quite the contrast to the plains of Iowa and Minnesota, the only other places where I have permanently hung my hat. A most poignant reminder this Midwestern boy has been transplanted to a different time zone.

Mountains, valleys, deserts, and plains. The varied topography I have encountered this year reminded me of this passage:

A voice cries out: In the desert prepare the way of the LORD! Make straight in the wasteland a highway for our God! Every valley shall be filled in, every mountain and hill shall be made low; The rugged land shall be made a plain, the rough country, a broad valley. Then the glory of the LORD shall be revealed, and all mankind shall see it together; for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.

Isaiah 40:3-5

So, those of you who visit this infinitesimal corner of the universe, I ask you this: How was your preparation this past Advent? Have you removed, as best as you were able, the obstacles in the way so you could get to the Way? Are you ready to see the glory of the Lord, brilliantly disguised as a baby in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger?

Don't worry if you were not successful. (Trust me, I wasn't.) Fulfilling that task is a lifetime process, not one which can be completed in four liturgical "weeks". Progress is also a blessing. Him Who we seek, in His eternal Word, continues to call us to Him. If we hear Him (remember the word "obey" has as it Latin root the word meaning "to hear") and seek Him, His guarantee is we will find Him.

So, like those being enrolled that first Christmas, like the shepherds, like the Magi, we go "to Bethlehem to see this thing that has take place," because we "saw his star at its rising and come to do him homage." We find Joseph and Mary being the holy parents they are, caring for their Son as best as able, surely full of curiosity about all the visitors who came to see the Child, slowly understanding the words they heard from their own angelic visits. We contemplate with our souls what we see with our eyes. We gaze at the Babe; unknowingly, we see the face of God. We meet Love; cor ad cor loquitur. Venite adoramus, Dominum. Hodie Christus natus est.

Tonight is just one stop on our journey of faith; we know there will be more. The first place is the Manager. The next place is the Cross. The final place is the empty Tomb.

The search is over when we grasp this with our whole being.

Ad Orientem

These lyrics caught my attention this Advent.

If nature has properly prepared, so can we.

Fedora Doff to Alkelda the Gleeful at her whimsical 'blog Saints and Spinners for providing the information.