This lovely young couple...asks for your prayers as the date of their wedding approaches. Sts. Joachim and Anne, St. Patrick, pray for us! St. Michael, defend us!

Boys...girls...and age differences

Since we're past Easter now, I'm tempting nature by washing the snow gear today. Usually, I don't check pockets when I do the laundry. Every child has been warned that if it's left in a pocket, it's mine, and they are (usually) good about emptying things out. But I hadn't told anyone that I was washing coats and snow pants, so I thought I should check.

Matthew has 4 pockets in his winter coat. In them, I found:
-one Nerf dart (kind of surprised there weren't more of these, actually)
-two granola bar wrappers (glad he didn't throw them on the ground somewhere ;-))
-a slightly rusty Heineken beer bottle cap (for the collection, presumably)
-Lego pieces: sword, shield (broken, but the pieces are both present), tricorner hat, and a brown, claw-like thing: is it a hand for a Lego person?
-one penny

Meghan's 4 coat pockets were emptier:
-one granola bar wrapper
-one used tissue (this poor girl has been sick almost as often as Benedict this winter)
-blue beaded bracelet
-two holy medals that fell off the bracelet (in a different pocket)
-one ponytail holder
-a note from a friend

Joseph's coat pockets:
Were empty. Except...
I could tell there was something in the coat, more than one something, and one something that felt like his wallet, but I couldn't find the pocket. Finally, I called Joseph over to empty it. Aha! The hidden ski pass pocket! It held:
-wallet
-mini-lightsaber/flashlight
-pen
-one AAA battery

It's funny what you observe about people when you see what they carry in their pockets.

A poem for Easter Sunday

Sonnet 68

Most glorious Lord of lyfe, that on this day,

Didst make thy triumph over death and sin:

And having harrowd hell, didst bring away

Captivity thence captive us to win:

This joyous day, deare Lord, with joy begin,

And grant that we for whom thou diddest dye

Being with thy deare blood clene washt from sin,

May live for ever in felicity.

And that thy love we weighing worthily,

May likewise love thee for the same againe:

And for thy sake that all lyke deare didst buy,

With love may one another entertayne.

So let us love, deare love, lyke as we ought,

Love is the lesson which the Lord us taught.

Edmund Spenser

Sacred Music

Here's one example of the beautiful music we have at St. Jerome's.

The best part is some of this comes home with Katie, who's in the 10:30 Mass Choir, and with Matthew, who's in the Children's Choir!  Yesterday evening we heard Matthew and Meghan singing "What Wondrous Love is This" and we couldn't bear to interrupt them to tell them to finish one of their chores!

A poem for Holy Saturday

Limbo by Sister Mary Ada, OSJ

The ancient grayness shifted

Suddenly and thinned

Like mist upon the moors

Before a wind.

An old, old prophet lifted

A shining face and said:

“He will be coming soon.

The Son of God is dead;

He died this afternoon.”

A murmurous excitement stirred

All souls.

They wondered if they dreamed –

Save one old man who seemed

Not even to have heard.

And Moses, standing,

Hushed them all to ask

If any had a welcome song prepared.

If not, would David take the task?

And if they cared

Could not the three young children sing

The Benedicite, the canticle of praise

They made when God kept them from perishing

In the fiery blaze?

A breath of spring surprised them,

Stilling Moses’ words.

No one could speak, remembering

The first fresh flowers,

The little singing birds.

Still others thought of fields new ploughed

Or apple trees

All blossom-boughed.

Or some, the way a dried bed fills

With water

Laughing down green hills.

The fisherfolk dreamed of the foam

On bright blue seas.

The one old man who had not stirred

Remembered home.

And there He was

Splendid as the morning sun and fair

As only God is fair.

And they, confused with joy,

Knelt to adore

Seeing that He wore

Five crimson stars

He never had before.

No canticle at all was sung

None toned a psalm, or raised a greeting song,

A silent man alone

Of all that throng

Found tongue –

Not any other.

Close to His heart

When the embrace was done,

Old Joseph said,

“How is Your Mother,

How is Your Mother, Son?”

A poem for Good Friday

The Four Quartets, T.S. Eliot

East Coker, IV

The wounded surgeon plies the steel

That questions the distempered part;

Beneath the bleeding hands we fell

The sharp compassion of the healer’s art

Resolving the enigma of the fever chart.

Our only health is the disease

If we obey the dying nurse

Whose constant care is not to please

But to remind of our, and Adam’s, curse,

And that, to be restored, our sickness must grow worse.

The whole earth is our hospital

Endowed by the ruined millionaire,

Wherein, if we do well, we shall

Die of the absolute paternal care

That will not leave us, but prevents us everywhere.

The chill ascends from feet to knees,

The fever sings in mental wires.

If to be warmed, then I must freeze

And quake in frigid purgatorial fires

Of which the flame is roses and the smoke is briars.

The dripping blood our only drink,

The bloody flesh our only food;

In spite of which we like to think

That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood–

Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good.

EXCERPTED FROM THE FOUR QUARTETS, HARVEST BOOKS, 1971

Holy Thursday: three videos

3 videos on what we're celebrating today:



The Eucharist as Meal, Sacrifice, and Real Presence | Word on Fire



The Eucharist as Meal, Sacrifice, and Real Presence | Word on Fire

Pavement

Spaces by Vancouver Landscape Contractors High Tech Turf & Trees

Please indulge me for a few minutes. I'm landscape dreaming.

We are growing to love our new house, but it has its challenges. A big one is the amount of concrete and asphalt on our property. I'm not really sure why concrete was the material of choice; maybe because it is cheaper than other options? long lasting? There are multiple walkways, the front stoop, the back patio, two sets of stairs, a driveway, and the ponds, which are lined with, and surrounded by, concrete. That's a lot of impermeable surface for people who live on a hill. And don't forget the bowing brick retaining wall that is going to need to be repaired or replaced sometime in the next 5-10 years. Oy!

We have been thinking and dreaming this winter of what we would do with our yard if we were starting from scratch.  There are so many ways to make a landscape more beautiful:

Natural swimming pools






Cobblestone walkways

Spaces by Vancouver Landscape Contractors High Tech Turf & Trees

Flagstone walkways









Dry streams, rain gardens, downspout alternatives

Steps

                                                                                                     

Natural stone retaining walls












And maybe going down to the driveway, something like this, which would make a great stage/amphitheater ;-)



Stacked stone retaining wall









Natural playgound

Driveways










And one indoor folly: I'm dying to put floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side of the front window in the living room. And a window seat underneath.