Our parish church is an edifice of substantial size, it holds approximately 600, and was filled far beyond normal capacity at the Vigil Mass on Christmas Eve this year. Extra chairs were placed in the rear in an attempt to accommodate the overflow but still many others stood together closely enough that hardly a breeze could pass between them. It’s the same during the Easter Season, standing room only. Somehow the faith that is instilled in some, earned by others, and hoped for by those who teeter between believing and not, greatly swells in the hearts of God’s people during these two seasons in the church calendar.

It wasn’t possible not to wish it could be so every week, or, praise God, every weekday!

Considering the number of Masses held throughout the world there certainly are some who faithfully attend Mass everyday, and truthfully I wish to be among the ranks, although like so many there repeatedly seems to be one reason or another these days that prevents me from joining the steadfast congregants that I so admire. For a period of time I did join them.

Each morning I rose early enough that no car on the block save mine was in motion. In that noiseless hour before my neighbors stirred or the majority of neighbors in other areas, my car would glide toward the chapel where my soul awaited emergence from the insistent obligations that are the responsibility of all women that uphold the simultaneous titles of wife, mother, grandmother, employee, friend, together with other designations with less abstruse obligations.

It was a period of Grace in my life. As I pushed open the massive doors and entered the magnificent chapel that I visited on my way to work each morning I could depend on the ethereal reminder that I was in the presence of my Father, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit. On the altar the statues of the Blessed Mother and St. Joseph offered delight to my soul as did the life-size sculpture of the archangel Gabriel. Directly behind the altar and above the tabernacle another stone figure that extends from the wall depicts Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane; He kneels over a large stone, the brokenness of His spirit is so obvious in the expression on His face, His head is bowed in prayer and in front of Jesus an angel attends Him. No matter how many times I look at it I am reminded of the Pieta and my heart swells with regret over my poor choices in life which contributed to Jesus having to bear the horrible cross that, in this representation, offers a glimpse of perhaps minutes before His arrest.

This particular statue also reminds me of a conversation on our respective beliefs that I once had with a non-Catholic coworker. We shared a lot of information, he helped me and I pray that in some of those discussions I too helped him. Although this happened many years ago, he left me with one thought. We agreed that no matter how small the sin, it was sin nonetheless and I lamented on the times in my life that I had sinned and hoped God would forgive me. My friend looked at me and said that I should always remember that before God made me He knew that I would sin, but made me anyway. I have never forgotten.

There is no one priest designated to perform Mass at the small chapel where I attended daily Mass when I worked. Any priest in the area may be assigned to that duty, but 6:30 A.M. Mass at the chapel is consistently offered despite the number in attendance. Sometimes that is as few as six yet that has no bearing on the dependability of the service. It is very comforting to know that whether there are few or many, the Mass goes on in this magnificent chapel that sits quietly vigilant in my city and joins hundreds of thousands of priests and faithful believers throughout the world in praising Almighty God in the way His Son taught us.

“Ecce oculi Domini super metuentes eum: et in eis, qui sperant super misericordia eius.”  (“Behold, the eyes of the Lord are on those who fear Him and on those who hope in His mercy.”)

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

God richly blessed us with a joyful Christmas this year and I am sincerely grateful to have been given the opportunity throughout the holidays to spend quality time during the celebration of Jesus’ birth with our three children and their children and our relatives. I could not have asked for more.

While many struggle with the onset of the holidays each year, the days immediately following December 25^th are the lugubrious ones for me. Now that the birth of Jesus has passed there are 365 plus days to await its return. I miss it already. Too soon impatience, inconsideration, and apathy replace the sprinkle of kindness and goodwill that blankets mankind with the arrival of Christmas.

Typically, I don’t make resolutions at the beginning of the year as I find that they are soon abandoned anyway but I usually do spend time reflecting on my conduct over the past year: was I kind enough, tolerant enough, accepting enough, encouraging enough, understanding enough. In precarious situations that I would rather not have been faced with did I act as God would have wanted? Was I consistently mindful that He is always with me, always aware of my thoughts, words, and actions? Did I set a good example of what Catholicism embraces? Through my words and actions would a stranger have known that I am a child of God?

While I cannot control my thoughts I can control my words and actions, did I do that throughout the year? And, if I failed in any area did I confess it as soon as reasonably possible and ask God’s forgiveness through confession?

Willfully with each passing day I strive to improve. By year’s end I hope that I have made some measure of progress toward being the creation originally I was formed to be in the Hands of God. Ever mindful that I can only achieve that lofty goal through the assistance of God, the Father, His Son and Our Lord, Jesus Christ, and the Holy Spirit, I implore the intercession of the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, and all of God’s angels and saints. Each entity is vital to my quest.

After all, God is perfect and it is no less than perfection that He requires of His adopted sons and daughters – us. I take His call seriously. I want to get as close to reaching the criterion He has set as is humanly possible, and I am ever aware that I cannot do it alone.

How Blessed we are to get another opportunity to improve. Another day, another year, ready or not here comes two thousand and twelve. Perhaps with collective prayer in the coming year every person alive will be encouraged to remember that when we place the triune God first in our lives and are open to His perfect design all things that happen are for our good.

I pray that we remember daily to don the full armor that will assist us in this battle on earth and lead us to eternity with God.

“For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens. Therefore, put on the armor of God, that you may be able to resist on the evil day and, having done everything, to hold your ground. So stand fast with your loins girded in truth, clothed with righteousness as a breastplate, and your feet shod in readiness for the gospel of peace. In all circumstances, hold faith as a shield, to quench all [the] flaming arrows of the evil one. And take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”      Ephesians 6:12-17

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

Happy Birthday, Jesus.

May you and your family have a Blessed and joyful Christmas and may we all focus on the true reason to celebrate – the birth of Jesus Christ.

As the quest to discover more about the holy man, St. Joseph, continues I remind myself to be vigilant, to sidestep the pitfalls of speculation and supposition, and to pray for judicious guidance as I mindfully honor one so deserving of offering us inspiration and receiving our love in return.

Hopefully, the examination will serve as a catalyst that will inspire a personal relationship for those who also want to become better acquainted with St. Joseph, the spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and step-father (foster father) of Our Savior and Lord, Jesus Christ. But if it is possible to know him better I would like to pursue that possibility while I still have the opportunity. He is worth it. So, in my resolve to do all that I can while I can, here is another view of what the bible does not tell us about St. Joseph.

The selection that follows was reported as inner locutions from Our Lord to Mother Maria Cecilia Baij, O.S.B., who was in charge (abbess) of the Benedictine Convent of St. Peter in Italy in the eighteenth century and have received theological acceptance. Mother Maria Cecilia Baij wrote:

 “He (St. Joseph) never relied upon himself. He considered himself to be an unimportant and miserable creature, and humbled himself exceedingly before God. It was embarrassing for him when his parents asked his advice, and he spoke only in view of obedience, and in order that God might be glorified in all things.

Nor did God fail to anticipate his need of grace and providential enlightenment. Joseph received this enlightenment either during prayer or through the medium of his angel. It is to be noted that as Joseph grew older, the angel spoke less often, because in addition to the light, which God already was providing in abundance, he was also being taught by means of the reading of the Sacred Scriptures.

 

One night as Joseph was sleeping, the angel appeared and told him that God was most pleased over the resolution he made to lead a life of perpetual celibacy and that He promised him His special help and blessing. Then the angel showed him a cincture of incomparable value and beauty and said to him: “God wishes to present to you this cincture as a token of His approval of your decision. As an indication of the grace which He is granting you for the purpose of preserving untarnished the luster of your purity, He has commissioned me to clothe you with it.” Thereupon, the angel approached Joseph and girded his loins with the cincture, admonishing him to thank God for the favor and grace granted to him.

 

As Joseph awoke, he arose immediately, knelt down, and thanked God fervently for this blessing. It developed that Joseph was never to be harassed by temptations against chastity. Although the devil attacked him with various other temptations, he never was able to lay snares for him in this domain, because God did not permit it. Almighty God maintained him in this remarkable state of purity, so that he would be worthy of becoming the guardian of the Queen of Virgins.”

These statements are in direct contrast to those held to have been written by the apostles that are housed in Jerusalem, and are presented for further consideration by the reader who must determine their veracity through the spirit of discernment that is bestowed on all.

Certainly the titles of spouse of the Virgin Mary and father of Jesus sufficiently justify his greatness but still I find an elusive ambiance cloaking him that draws my attention to the corporeal life of St. Joseph. For me it is more than the mystery of his life that acts as a magnet. Of course there is the factor of my undying gratitude to him for a personal favor granted by God as a direct result of his intercession, but that only served as my catalyst.

Why we are left to seek trustworthy sources on St. Joseph outside of the most trustworthy one available to Catholics, the bible, and why it is that it delivers so few details mystifies me.

The Christmas season does amplify my motivation each year to look more closely at St. Joseph but Christmas was not the original reason for my pursuit. What was born of curiosity, evolved to aspiration, transformed into gratitude, and is now grounded in reverence. Even with so few reliable details written on him, innately I know that this man deserves no less than a closer look.

There are no direct quotes attributed to him in scripture. In the many books of the bible not a single word is written as having been uttered by St. Joseph. It is not because he said nothing, it is not because there was nothing for him to speak about or nothing for him to share, but I must wonder why it is so that there are no recorded statements from him. I would love to read his autobiography, it would render so much more about him and the Blessed Mother and Jesus.

The publication of Mother Maria Cecilia Baij is comforting and well worth the read. Her description of St. Joseph offers readers a glimpse of the qualities one would expect of the earthy husband and father God chose to accompany and protect the Blessed Mother Mary and Jesus until his work was complete. Just as they started with God, so was their end with God. At the proper time Jesus commended His Spirit into the Father’s hands and the Blessed Mother through assumption returned to her Creator. During his life St. Joseph ran the (better than) good race!

Again, thank you St. Joseph for saying yes.

“When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, they took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord…”            Luke 2:22

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

What a moving homily we received tonight at Mass. The message centered on two contrasting ways in which God reaches out to us as He did with the shepherds that visited the infant Jesus versus the appearance of the magi. We were reminded that on the one hand an angel guided the lowly shepherds. They were told precisely what to look for and how to reach the King of Kings born that night. Their path to Jesus was clear. Luke 2: 8-18 states:

“Now there were shepherds in that region living in the fields and keeping the night watch over their flock. The angel of the Lord appeared to them and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were struck with great fear. The angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For today in the city of David a savior has been born for you who is Messiah and Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find an infant wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.” And suddenly there was a multitude of the heavenly host with the angel, praising God and saying: “Glory to God in the highest and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.” When the angels went away from them to heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go, then, to Bethlehem to see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went in haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the infant lying in the manger. When they saw this, they made known the message that had been told them about this child. All who heard it were amazed by what had been told them by the shepherds.”

That act is one that epitomizes how lovingly The Father engages the ordinary as well as the exalted.

In opposition to that method of communication from God to mankind, the magi, who occupied a more revered status than the shepherds, receive an indirect summon. An unusually bright star arose in the sky and captured their attention as written in Matthew: “When Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, in the days of King Herod, behold, magi from the east arrived in Jerusalem, saying, “Where is the newborn king of the Jews? We saw his star at its rising and have come to do him homage.” Matthew 2:1-2

Matthew 2:9-12 reads:

“After their (the magi’s) audience with the king (Herod) they set out. And behold, the star that they had seen at its rising preceded them, until it came and stopped over the place where the child was. They were overjoyed at seeing the star, and on entering the house they saw the child with Mary his mother. They prostrated themselves and did him homage. Then they opened their treasures and offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they departed for their country by another way.”

Verses 1 and 2 of Matthew’s account indicates the magi arrived in Jerusalem when Jesus was newborn but later in verses 9-12 that description changes to that of a child. That would lead me to believe that it may have taken them a while to locate Jesus. That He had grown before they reached the “house” where Jesus was living, rather than having arrived while he was “lying in a manger,” as St. Luke described in his report of Jesus’ birth.

Tonight’s homily pointed out how we don’t seek God first but it is God that seeks us and never gives up; when I reflect on that statement it is true.

Without need of sending angels or of having one word spoken to us about God we need only look in the mirror or around this beautiful earth we inhabit to see that He is revealing Himself to us all the time. Beckoning us to know Him through His trees, flowers, mountains, streams, rivers, oceans, babies, a child’s face, virtually everything the eye can behold, is evidence of a loving awesome true genius imbued with intelligence that we cannot begin to fathom. God who created the magnificence of “us” created this magnificent place for us to exist in until this short-lived existence known as life ceases. If God cannot be found neither within the deep recesses of our hearts nor in even one of these things He has placed everywhere before us, the beholder is blind in ways that have nothing to do with sight.

Some of us are given a direct route back to God while others travel a circuitous path. How we arrive is unimportant, it’s in the return that is paramount to our eternity.

“And Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart. Then the shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, just as it had been told to them.”     Luke 2:19-20

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

Every illustration I’ve seen of St. Joseph displayed him as considerably older than his youthful teenage wife, the Blessed Virgin Mary. Often I’ve wondered just how much older he was. However, it doesn’t matter. He was the earthly spouse of the most beautiful and perfect woman ever born and the step-father of the most important man ever born. What else about him could be even a close second on the scale of importance?

Despite just those two all-important facts it took me a long time to really look at the man known as St. Joseph and I can’t explain why. I have always been (albeit for too many years vaguely) aware of him, mindful of his role at Jesus’ birth, and respectful of him, but was satisfied with that pittance of information I knew about him. That is in stark contrast to his wife and son. I can never get enough of learning about them so it should be with St. Joseph… and now is. His presence in the Holy Family was critical.

On closer examination as reported through the apostles in a conversation with Jesus on the Mount of Olives to say that St. Joseph was granted longevity is an understatement. Their written account states that Joseph was wise, skillful in the trade of carpentry, and a priest in the temple of the Lord. Although born in Bethlehem, he moved to Nazareth. Speculation is that may have been in order to earn a living. Before the Blessed Mother, he married and was blessed with four sons, Judas, Justus, James, and Simon, and two daughters, Assia and Lydia. To dispel my belief in the perpetual state of the Blessed Mother’s virginity my non-Catholic friends frequently quote Matthew 13:55-56 in which these children are mentioned but somehow completely overlook the possibility that he was a widower with six children when he met her.

The apostles report that the Blessed Mother’s parents offered her in the temple when she was three years old. As she grew, the priest recognized her holiness and that she was becoming of age so they convened in conference, wrote down the names of the twelve tribes of Israel and the lot fell (i.e. by God) upon Joseph to care for her until she was of age to marry.  The apostles said on the Mount of Olives Jesus told them that when she was fourteen He chose her, with God’s approval, to be His mother. St. Joseph was working elsewhere when the angel Gabriel appeared to the Blessed Mother and when he returned home, much to his shock, discovered she was three months pregnant. Of course greatly distressed yet as painful as his discovery was he didn’t want to disgrace her and planned to quietly send her away.

It was written that it was at mid-day that the angel Gabriel appeared to him in a dream and explained the predicament after which they were married. What a message to receive! And more than that, what a gentle, wise, immensely blessed mortal he must have been. Consider how the turmoil continued as they traveled, in his advanced age, from Nazareth to Bethlehem – for the census and where Jesus was born, from Bethlehem to Egypt – to escape Herod, and from Egypt back to Nazareth – when an angel told him it was safe to return. Three dreams directed him and must have been unnerving but he followed the instructions therein with what I believe was unquestioning confidence.

The Mount of Olives discussion lead by Jesus included a description of the end of St. Joseph’s life. It reported an aged but healthy man of one hundred and eleven, with vigor, good eyesight, teeth in good condition, free from pain, and a sound mind (without dementia or Alzheimer’s!). More than that, Jesus said that St. Joseph knew when death was imminent and that he was afraid and troubled so he went to the temple and prayed that God would send St. Michael to protect his soul! That he was afraid really surprised me, that he was able at one hundred and eleven to be near death yet able to get up and go to the temple amazed me. But as I continued to read, the account explained that sadness and fear are the fate of all souls at the time of death. After his fervent prayer to God it is said that he returned home, was seized by disease, kept to his bed and died as is the destiny of all mankind. Until that time St. Joseph had never experienced sickness. Jesus said He comforted him as St. Joseph confessed his terror; the Blessed Mother was also there along with some of St. Joseph’s children from his first marriage.

Thank you, St. Joseph, for living a life of honor, respect, virtue, and righteousness. Thank you for showing us how we should strive to live. Thank you for also saying “Yes” when you were commissioned to lead the Holy Family. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to become better acquainted with your wholesome life.

The lessons of St. Joseph’s life are many and it is well worth the read to research his experiences. I have a deep debt of gratitude to the man who generously listened and answered my prayer to him during a depressingly terrifying period when my husband’s life teetered in the balance from lung cancer. The novena to him is called, “Prayer to St. Joseph over 1900 years old,” and when it is said nine consecutive mornings for anything you may desire, is seldom known to fail. I can attest to the validity of that promise.

 “O St. Joseph whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the Throne of God, I place in you all my interests and desires. O St. Joseph do assist me by your powerful intercession and obtain for me from your Divine Son all spiritual blessings through Jesus Christ, Our Lord; so that having engaged here below your Heavenly power I may offer my Thanksgiving and Homage to the most Loving of Fathers. O St. Joseph, I never weary contemplating you and Jesus asleep in your arms. I dare not approach while He reposes near your heart. Press him in my name and kiss His fine Head for me, and ask Him to return the Kiss when I draw my dying breath. St. Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for us. Amen.”

Truthfully, when I first read the prayer I was reluctant to begin the novena after reading the last sentence. I was in great fear that it indicated weakness in the faith I had that my husband would live but quickly realized how ridiculous that was since the intercessory prayer would be presented to the Lord, God Almighty. And, He definitely knew it was life to its full that I sought for my spouse.

Later I discovered that in 1870 Pope Pius IX declared St. Joseph the patron of the Universal Church, unofficial patron against doubt and hesitation, patron of fighting communism, as well as patron of a happy death. St. Joseph is considered the model of believers who receive grace at the moment of death, he prays for families, fathers, expectant mothers, travelers, immigrants, craftsmen, engineers, and all working people. There are many prayers of petition to him for daily protection, vocation, happy marriages, and hopeless cases.

St. Joseph – A man for all seasons but one that especially should be at the forefront of our hearts along with his family during this Christmas season.

“Joseph was a man who always did what was right, but he did not want to disgrace Mary publicly; so he made plans to break the engagement privately.”    Matthew 1:19

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

The first time I heard the song, immediately my eyes filled with tears. The words are just so arresting. No matter how many times I hear them their striking simplicity caresses my soul, fills my heart with euphoric optimism so strong that I can barely contain the explosion within. Regardless of how my day has gone or how much has gone wrong in it, when I hear this composition it reminds me of the many ways in which the Holy Spirit inspires mankind. And, I am confident that The Father gave this melodic masterpiece to the world. In my view it spotlights the true meaning of Christmas, and at minimum, casts shadows of doubt on the wisdom in agreeing with vastly contrasting worldly views of the season.

Appropriately, it was written for a Christmas program by Mark Lowry in 1984, the music was written by Buddy Greene. It was sung first by the choir it was written for, in 1992 it was released on a debut album by Michael English, an American Christian singer, and in 1993 Country music artist, Kathy Mattea recorded the song, “Mary Did You Know?” on her Christmas album. Many times throughout the year, and especially during the Christmas season, the song echoes around the rooms in our home. I cannot get enough of hearing it.

The overriding query to Mary throughout the song may have been rhetorical; however, scripturally speaking, the answer to the question is a resounding YES! She knew.

 “In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin betrothed to a man named Joseph, of the house of David, and the virgin’s name was Mary. And coming to her, he said, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give him the throne of David his father, and he will rule over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” But Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?” And the angel said to her in reply, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.”             (Luke 1:26-35)

Still, the words are beautiful and I feel the question should be asked. For anyone who doubts, it may well be just the vehicle by which a thought-provoking journey is begun that will lead them back to The Father, Jesus, and Queen of Heaven and Earth so that one of them will explain it face-to-face.

Here are the words to the song:

Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy
Would one day walk on water?
Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy
Would save our sons and daughters?
Did you know that your Baby Boy
Has come to make you new;
This Child that you delivered
Will soon deliver you.

Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy
Will give sight to a blind man?
Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy
Will calm the storm with His hand?
Did you know that your Baby Boy
Has walked where Angels trod?
When you kiss your Little Baby,
You kiss the Face of God!

Oh, Mary, did you know?
Oh, Mary, did you know?

The blind will see, the deaf will hear,
The dead will live again.
The lame will leap, the dumb will speak
The praises of the lamb!

Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy
Is Lord of all creation?
Mary, did you know that your Baby Boy
Will one day rule the nations?
Did you know that your Baby Boy
Is Heaven’s Perfect Lamb?
This sleeping Child you’re holding
Is the Great I Am!

It’s a feast to the senses to watch the video of Kenny Rogers and Wynonna Judd’s version:

Mary Did You Know

Since my two older cousins were boys and my sister, Sheila, was ultra feminine, throughout my first thirteen years of life I was a confirmed tomboy despite being smallest of the three. All I wanted were trees to climb, marbles to shoot, kites to fly, yo-yos to spin, roller skates to race, and bicycles to keep up with my cousins. For me, it was nothing less than euphoric to have hours on end to make pop guns from the branches of chinaberry trees, homemade boats, or model train sets to tinker with alongside my cousins. Much to my mother’s chagrin I only wanted to wear dungarees (now known as jeans) and felt infringed upon when told to wear a dress.

A.J. (for Anthony, Jr., because he disliked “Anthony” “Tony” or “Jr.”), and his younger brother, Charles, were our first cousins but Sheila and I considered them more like brothers since we lived with them for a couple of years after our mother and father divorced. From the onset of cohabitation an unspoken bond formed between us that strengthened over time. Our mothers were the eldest of five children and could finish each others sentences which A.J., Charles, Sheila, and I believed fashioned an intrinsic alliance between their children. Since Sheila was so fundamentally ladylike and I, at the time, chiefly wasn’t, I gravitated to A.J. and Charles’ lifestyle. I was fascinated with whatever they enjoyed doing.

On one occasion A.J. decided to give me a lesson on kite-making. It couldn’t have been more convenient that the man around the corner sold all the material we’d need. Known throughout our neighborhood simply as the Kite Man, no one ever bothered to find out his real name but everyone knew him. The Kite Man kept a medley of supplies on hand to make kites – paper, pre-cut and notched sticks, string, glue, fabric, even assembled tails (that no self-respecting kid would purchase, except those too lazy or absent of pride).

The first time I went with A.J. to get my supplies I thought it was fairly odd that the Kite Man conducted his business affairs through the front window of his home, from his porch. On the swing by that window were stacks of paper, sticks bundled in sets of two, and assembled tails made of colorful strips of fabric. Everything else he kept inside the house and handed out through the window. Before we stepped onto the porch A.J. instructed me to let him do the talking since he was a frequent customer and well known by the Kite Man. In less than three minutes I had everything I needed and we were on our way back home where I was about to become just as proficient as A.J. at making kites.

For me though it wasn’t just about learning to make a kite. I wanted to experience the thrill of winning. I wanted not to be thought of as “just a girl,” “too little,” or dismissed as A.J. or Charles’ little cousin. I wanted acceptance. Kite fighting grabbed my attention as one way I could be seen by those I considered my peers just as myself, no more or no less than that. I had watched A.J. and Charles for months fly, master the air, and take control of the kites of others. A.J. was the best. In a span of five days he had commandeered three kites, but he always returned them. For him it was the competition that held his interest. I liked his style. I didn’t want to take anyone’s kite either; I just wanted to show them that I could. For me winning was its own reward.

Some kites looked better than A.J.’s but those were his prime targets. He explained which kites he would win as he patiently helped me assemble mine. He cautioned me not to get too creative lest my kite too would become a target. He advised me to keep it simple but make it strong, to reinforce it and to attach the razor blade precisely in the right position on the string to make it a resilient contender. The kite’s tail and line were critical too. Once airborne, if the tail was too heavy the kite would be unsteady, if the line wasn’t tied just slightly above the center of gravity that too would impair performance. Bearing in mind the winds that the kite would have to withstand all elements needed meticulous consideration before it could perform as the adversary I hoped it would be. I listened carefully, followed all of his instructions to his satisfaction, and as I finished my kite A.J. reminded me that especially since I was girl I wouldn’t be taken seriously if my kite were to fall victim on my entry into the world of kite fighting. It was just as important to come home with my kite intact as to bring down another.

We hit the street running. After we found an open space away from power lines, both our kites lifted and I was ecstatic. The kites we individually aimed for had been flying for a while. A.J. struck first. He pointed out to me the brightly colored oddly designed kite that was his target and with a couple of steps and a proficient sweep of his arm he set his plan in action. He worked his kite slightly below the other one and cut its string, then wrapped the loose string around the string of his kite. Presto! It was his! He reeled both kites in while I checked to locate the direction of the owner – easily found because of the spew of expletives – as A.J. and I laughed until our stomachs ached. All the while I was careful to avoid the same fate as the owner of the colorful kite.

We did find the owner and he was reunited with his beloved kite. I didn’t get an opportunity that day to win my own fight but there were other days when I was quite successful and got to demonstrate my capacity for benevolence just like A.J.

Kite fighting was an art, a skill that I enjoyed observing and learning but not to show off or be mean-spirited, it was a small attempt to successfully compete in a world where the neighborhood motto was “boys ruled and girls drooled!”

By the time Sheila and I moved from the neighborhood A.J. and I proved them wrong. There was at least one girl around who didn’t want to rule but she sure didn’t drool either. I couldn’t have done it without A.J. and Charles, and I wouldn’t have had it any other way.

“Then God said: Let us make human beings in our image, after our likeness. Let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, the birds of the air, the tame animals, all the wild animals, and all the creatures that crawl on the earth. God created mankind in his image; in the image of God he created them; male and female – he created them.”          Genesis 1:26-27

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}

Because it wasn’t enough to know that the primary reason for being alive is to know, love, and serve God, my thirst and curiosity guided me to the only reliable source available for further edification: the bible. In relation to life, what it means, trustworthy examples to follow (or not), and how it all began were a few of the reasons that I found respite in prayerfully reading and studying the bible. Each book holds its own wisdom, and in my judgment, fascination, but only in-depth instruction could even begin to satiate my inquisitiveness about the words inspired by the Holy Spirit.

That God unceasingly loves and tolerates the human experience despite our multitudinous faulty choices bewilders me. That is a love so profound it motivates every level within me to relish it, and ignites a burning desire to return it to the source as I strive to also distribute it to His people as I sojourn through this place of exile.

Like my favorite flavor of tea, the drink of knowledge is warm and satisfying. When I first drank Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, right through to the goodness of Job who suffered far beyond his due I received the reward of a happy ending for all of the torture he was allowed to experience. The five books of hymns and prayers in Psalms did not disappoint my search for novel expressions of praise and worship, forgiveness, blessings, and a variety of petitions. I sipped Proverbs as it explained the sapience of exercising humility, patience, respect, self-control, and other moral insights.

The second pot of tea was a new blend. I poured the stimulant expecting a shout of delight from my taste buds only to find uncertainty once the essence registered. The moniker, Ecclesiastes, neither offered an indication of the characteristics to expect nor did the aroma, but my interest was amplified over this unique mix of leaves.

On the one hand Ecclesiastes speaks of the uselessness and injustices of life, midstream it gives advice on how to live it, and ends praising God, advising his readers to revere Him and to remember that we were created just for that purpose.

I was right back to the teaching of my second grade religion class: we were created to know, love, and serve God!

Research to uncover the author of Ecclesiastes proved unproductive. It only referred me to speculation and supposition. Ultimately, we only know that “the Philosopher” was David’s son and was possibly King Solomon. But King David’s nineteen (!) sons are listed in 1 Chronicles: Amnon, Daniel, Absalom, Adonijah, Shephatiah, and Ithream were born in Hebron while David lived there. In Jerusalem Bathsheba bore four sons, and another nine were born of David: Ibhar, Elishua, Elpelet, Nogah, Nepheg, Japhia, Elishama, Eliada, and Eliphelet – AND, these known sons do not include ones born of David’s concubines!

Much of it sounded like an extension of King Solomon’s Proverbs, perhaps during a downward spiral in his life; but as with a cup of tea, maybe the heart of the writings should not be on the author or on the frustration they present or not even for whom they were written, but only in the benefits they tender and how one feels eventually.

After all, the wisdom and experiences chronicled in Ecclesiastes are enough to impart adequate instruction to those who will receive and act on it as their spirit discerns appropriate.

Sorrow is better than laughter; it may sadden your face, but it sharpens your understanding.                                    Ecclesiastes 7:3

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you.}

Inspired by Daniel to spend an adequate amount of time each day in prayer, more often than preferred I fall short. Though captive and a servant, Daniel’s favor with God is easily understood when his prayer life alone is considered. No matter what – even when faced with violating the king’s order not to pray at the risk of being thrown in a pit filled with lions – Daniel prayed three times a day! (Daniel 6:10) What possible excuse can be offered for not matching his devotion?

With no envious supervisors or governors consumed by sinister motives or plots against me, no laws banning prayer, no enslavement to hinder my freedom as Daniel faced, I struggle to understand how twenty-four hours can slip by without fervent prayer humbly offered to such a deserving Creator. Unfortunately, for me, it does.

Fortunately, Church tradition includes vocal, meditative, and contemplative expressions of prayer to help exercise daily communication with God. Vocally, even when I fall short of saying my rosary or other favorite prayers chosen over the years, the Our Father is available to unite me with God and was the way Jesus taught us to pray. It takes so little time. Meditation is the form of prayer in which I am most successful because all things seen or experienced draw me back to God; it is impossible to use my five senses and not think of The Almighty. Contemplative prayer which includes intensity and silence is often the most elusive.

In Romans, Paul describes conflict that hinders keeping the Law. When I read his passage I am reminded that some of it would also serve to describe the battle I fight to achieve consistent prayer: “I do not understand what I do; for I don’t do what I would like to do, but instead I do what I hate.” (Romans 6:15)  The hatred is in failing to give God a respectable measure of time in prayer every day that I live.

When guilt taunts me for not spending enough time in prayer each day I rush for comfort in the first book of Chronicles. Nearly hidden there is a most potent prayer that I found so simple yet God answered it in full. And, the powerful story is so short that I completely overlooked it the first time I read the bible.

After listing the descendents of Judah, Chronicles only explains that there was a man named Jabez, who was the most respected member of his family. His mother had given him the name Jabez, because his birth had been very painful. “But Jabez prayed to the God of Israel, “Bless me, God, and give me much land. Be with me and keep me from anything evil that might cause me pain. And God gave him what he prayed for.” 1 Chronicles 4:10  It isn’t prayers of petition that I strive for, it’s those that offer my humble adoration, love, thanksgiving, and praise to God as He so richly deserves every day.

Remembering to say ‘Good Morning’ to God, Jesus, Holy Spirit, the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph, and all the angels and saints comes easily. The difficulty comes thereafter in the faithfulness it takes to expand that greeting into wholly immersed heartfelt adoration daily!

“And you, Daniel, be faithful to the end. Then you will die, but you will rise to receive your reward at the end of time.”              Daniel 12:13

{Thank you for spending some time with me. May God Bless you always.}