Signs and Wonders

Roses in a Cobalt Vase by Alexis Kreyder

SEPTEMBER 17

OUR FAMILY'S MEMORIAL OF MARY'S MIRACULOUS ROSE

Today a single, pink rose sits in a vase in front of our statues of the Holy Family and Mary, next to a small jar that contains dried rose petals. It is our tribute to a miracle that Tom and I experienced.

We told a few people soon after it happened on Sept. 17, 2001. They greeted this story with reactions of belief or skepticism depending on their natures. I told my CRHP retreat team when we shared our faith experiences with each other. Later I was privileged to share this as part of my witness to the next CRHP team during the retreat we held for them. Now I am sharing the story here and you may make of it what you will. All I know is that it happened and was miraculous enough to render my extremely practical, very Catholic husband speechless.

I could write much more than anyone would care to read and not be able to convey all the memories and emotions that this day holds for me of that time. Below is part of the witness I shared.

It has seemed good to me to publish the signs and wonders which the most high God has accomplished in my regard. (Daniel, Chapter 3, Verse 99)

When Tom and I went to Houston on the Friday after his father had his stroke, we were in for a terrible shock. We had been told the stroke was minor but, in fact, it was major. We checked into a hotel that adjoined the hospital and never stepped outside again until we left on Monday afternoon. There were many moments of total despair and raw emotion … it was a terrible time. I prayed ceaselessly and finally threw myself at the feet of the Holy Family. It was a huge moment of realization for me ... I will never forget sitting there realizing that we were totally helpless and only God has control.

Finally Tom’s father seemed to improve and we were really happy as we got ready to leave. As Tom drove the car around to where I was waiting with the luggage, I saw a flash of pink. A friend had given me a rose to take to Tom’s mother. It was just opening perfectly when we arrived. I left the rose in the car thinking I would give it to her later. Of course, the way things turned out we hadn't been back to the car the whole time. That rose had been forgotten in a closed car in a parking garage in 90° weather for close to 4 days.

When I walked around to my side of the car, I told Tom, “I forgot all about that rose. There’s a trash can over there. I'll throw it away.” He just looked at me and said, “Julie, you’re not going to believe your eyes.” and opened my door so I could see. The rose was perfect. It had not changed a bit since we left it in the car. It was unwilted and the heart was just opening. It was as if time had stood still. I held it on my lap all the way back to Dallas and in a half an hour it had wilted to exactly the state I expected to find it in originally. It was like watching time lapse photography in front of our eyes.

From the Archives: Boxer Report

This was originally posted in October of 2009. I did it to update the girls, both of whom were living too, too far away.

Coming across it, looking for a boxer picture to post for Tom's birthday today (his favorite kind of photo), I enjoyed it so much that I'm rerunning it. Oh those double-Boxer days ...

How our baby has grown!

Baby Wash and almost year-old Zoe.
This is probably from late June? Maybe early July?

I think this is from about when you both left to go to school.
Maybe a bit earlier than that.

So in answer to questions about how big Wash has gotten ...

He is now taller than Zoe. Though you can't tell it from this photo.
They were "watching" the game yesterday with us.

And as you may recall, though this is an old photo,
they both are usually much more active.
That hasn't changed a bit, no matter what the age!

Oh, the weather outside is frightful ...

The view from our front yard

As I mentioned in yesterday's ratting story, we have gone from the 80s to below freezing in two days.

It is beautiful as you can see from the photo Tom snapped this morning.

To watch the news you'd think we had 6 feet of snow or something. The newscasters gravely say, "Now to Bob out in Plano, where a carport collapsed."

Then Bob shows us the collapsed carport on top of the car inside.

Oh the humanity!

It does shut the city down because we just aren't prepared for this sort of weather ... unlike when I moved here 30 years ago and it was very common. But the crazy way the news shows it makes it seem worse.

To be fair, I'm doing everything with the expectation that the power will go out at any time because the lines are covered with ice and we've been hearing transformers blow occasionally. So in my own way, I'm just as "emergency" oriented.

Kaylee, of ratting story fame, feels it is much too cold for a little lady to venture outside as we discovered when we looked behind the couch this morning. (She did have the decorum to hide the evidence. She's not a savage, people.)

Mountain men that we are, we closed the dog door and went outside in robes and slippers to encourage the dogs to romp playfully. And, as we hoped, nature took its course. Good girl!

Tom's going to work but I'm staying home and baking some Christmas cookies for the freezer! YAY!

Praise God From Whom All Blessings Flow ... For Answered Prayers Last Night

This is the sort of story that strains the credulity of anyone who prefers coincidence over God's providence, but I am so thankful that we're charging ahead with it anyway.

You may recall my speaking about Hannah's rescue dog, Kif, who was abused and is spooky as can be around everyone except her. He's part Staffordshire Terrier (pit bull) and looks it but is as gentle toward people as can be.

He got out last night and Hannah wasn't home. A combination that strikes fear into the heart of anyone in our family.

I was bringing in the groceries, during which the other three dogs (our two Boxers and Hannah's other rescue dog who is German Shepherd-Chow Chow and something else) go in and out with me for entertainment. Kif's been increasingly curious about the good times those dogs have in the garage and is always close to the door to the garage when I come in laden with bags. I was at the back of the van, pulling out the last of the things, and a white shape ghosted past the corner of my eye.  (Did the door just come open? Did I not shut it? Who cared. The thing was done.)

"Nooooooo," I howled to the heavens. Softly. I howled it softly. Because there was still a chance I could lure him back to the house.

"Kiffer. Kif boy. C'mon back in ... goooood dog."

Gently. Sweetly.

He came back to the bottom of the driveway and looked at me. The person who gives him raw hamburger, dog treats, and whatever else is around when he's in the kitchen. But yet the person he just can't bring himself to trust. *sigh*

Nope. He ghosted away down the alley.

I cried in my heart but wheedled again, "Kif boy. Kiffer. Here, boy."

He reappeared. Looked at me curiously again from the bottom of the driveway. I could tell he wanted to go back in. I thought of how it took the entire volunteer fire department of the little town of Garrett to catch him. I though of how terrified he was of people. That he would never come to anyone. Of the fact that people would see nothing but a "stray pit bull" slinking in the bushed and ... Texas has many homeowners who have guns.

I sweetened my tones. Stood aside from the door. Made myself as inconspicuous as possible and tried to make myself sound like Hannah, who he adores (not out of the bounds of reality because we do sound alike).

No good. He couldn't make himself do it and ran down the alley. toward the six-lane street we live two houses away from, naturally.

I sprang into action, grabbed a handful of dog treats, ran down the alley, calling. Got Hannah's other dog, Zap, and walked him around the driveway and that bit of alley, thinking that dogs were "safe" and might lure him back.

No good again.

Called Hannah, who was on her way home from work and about 15 minutes away. Called Tom, who dropped everything at work and sped the five minutes home to begin looking.

We began canvasing the neighborhood in our cars, Hannah and I calling, Tom silent because he knew Kif would never respond to a male voice. Cell phones, bless them, were on and ready to call Hannah to wherever we might spot him. I'm not sure what was worse, calling and calling with no response or stopping to ask people if they'd seen a medium-sized, white dog running loose and having to answer the inevitable, "what does he look like" with a reluctant "kind of like a pit bull, but he isn't one, he's really sweet." Ah, the stigma of that breed name.

Hannah prayed. I prayed. I reminded God about the sparrows he looks after and that this terrified dog needed some looking after. I asked my guardian angel to go find him (I had a definite impression of refusal over that). Ok. Fine. Back to God, then. That if we didn't find him, and who knew how far this dog could run in his fear, that some nice family would find him. Someone who would have the patience and kindness to invest in him.

As it turns out, a nice family did find him.

Tom was broadening his search yet again, after 40 minutes of looking, and saw Kif slowly going from bushes to house, bushes to house, bushes to house. It was clear that he was trying to find his way home. It was equally clear that he was scared to death.

Hannah was not even one minute away, got there, and called to him from the car. That stopped him. She got out of the car and the joyous reunion took place.

What a relief.

Tom called me to end the search. I, too, was converging on the spot where the other two had been looking. Clearly we would have all been at the very same spot within minutes of each other.

This isn't out of the realm of possibility. It was near enough to our house after all. But for Kif to have stayed in the neighborhood, for us to all be coming on that spot when he was finally obvious and looking for the house ... that all smacked of a little divine guidance to me.

Whether or not, my heart filled with joy and thankfulness.

And you have never seen such a happy dog in your life. When I sat on the kitchen floor and held out my hand, he came up to have his ears rubbed.

Which, in itself, was some kind of miracle.

Hereby Resolved ... Continuing the Book Fast

I have a number of ongoing resolutions which I strive for, fail at, and then renew. You know the sort. Keeping the house cleaner, being more focused, taking more walks, and the like.

Then there is the special one I made last year and actually kept, except for my end-of-the-year blowout where I gave myself the week in-between Christmas and New Year's off.

That resolution was my book fast. I didn't buy any books. Our city library is well stocked but if they didn't have it, then I didn't read it. The two exceptions were if my book club was reading something otherwise unavailable or if I needed it for doing the podcast or writing bulletin inserts or that sort of thing. That need didn't come up much, believe it or not.

I admit I did fall off the wagon in virtual space when I got the Kindle and a few extra short story collections somehow fell into my online cart. However, I didn't beat myself up about it and moving on was surprisingly painless.

This is a habit that has now stuck and I am going to continue with it for 2011.

I am tweaking it in a way that has to do more with my reading habits than buying habits.

I'm going to try to read the books that are stacked up at home before getting more from the library (other than those already in the house). Online library requests make it so very easy to flitter from book to book without reading what is right there next to me. Some of those poor babies have been waiting for several years for me to crack their covers. If I try and can't get through them, then I'm going to move on, but I at least should give them a fair chance.

Buoyed by the success of the 2010 Book Fast resolution, I made another.

You can't imagine how annoying it is not to be able to remember it right at this moment!

But when I do, you will be the first to know!

WOOHOO! UPDATE!
I remembered!

The new "resolution" is to return to a habit I used to follow a couple of years ago. Each week I'd try to dip into a different cookbook when planning the next week's meals. This was to try to encourage me to actually cook from all my cookbooks instead of the favored ten or so I always used.

It worked with varying results but I'm going to work my way through the shelves and see how that goes. It will add more variety in cooking as well as helping keep me more interested in the weekly planning and cooking.

If all works out, then I'll have a new recipe to share every week. So we all win!

What's Goin' On: The Foundling and Other Dog-ish Things

Having a kind-hearted daughter working at a vet clinic ... one who takes in Hard Luck Hounds for adoption ... can make for interesting household members sometimes.

You may recall that first it was Zapp, who Hannah adopted. He had never been around people but was generally unafraid. However, he'd obviously had bad experiences with other dogs as he would try to tear the faces off of any dogs he encountered. Luckily Zoe and Wash (our Boxers, for any of the uninitiated) were amazingly tolerant of this behavior.

Now, we have Garrett staying with us. He is not going to be adopted by anyone here but was in such obvious need of socialization that Hannah brought him home to give him a chance to be able to make it in the household that does eventually adopt him.

He is a mix, but the clearly dominant breed looks similar to American Staffordshire Terrier. He's a very gentle dog who knows his place in the pack (at the bottom). He loves Hannah but is extremely cautious with anyone else. Extremely.

He's also obviously super smart. He taught himself to use the dog door in one day. One. Day.

He's looking for a real home someday, with a patient owner who will receive lots and lots of love once he lets himself trust them.

Here is Garrett, standing next to Wash who is practicing his majestic stance.

All dog or part mountain goat?

Garrett loves the wall, to the point of sitting or lying on it whenever he's "on patrol."

Can't you feel the love?

Only Hannah gets those melting looks.

It's pretty clear that Garrett was abused before he was rescued. He's really shy around anyone else. Even nice ladies holding out pieces of cheese or turkey. (I don't take it personally though. Usually.)

I just love those ears that stand straight up, except at the tips.

He's still rather underweight but is a really handsome fellow, which might be kind of hard to see here.

The Other Pack Members

 Zapp Brannigan.

Yes, we're really all about pop culture around here.

He's Hannah's baby. A foundling when he entered our household, he was completely unsocialized. Now he loves everyone and that includes Wash and Zoe. He's part of the pack.

 Here is the "pack" in a favorite activity.

What? You've never played tug-o-war with a stick?

It's super-fun, y'all. As you can see.

Here we see Zapp in guerrilla warfare mode.

The wire is Tom's attempt to keep the dogs out of the mud and to give the grass a chance to fill in where it was destroyed by double Boxer playing tactics.

We'd have had a few more Boxer photos but Hannah took all of these. So we are grateful for what we receive. 

When Blog Meets Go Wrong: "You'll probably need this. Aim carefully. That's all the ammo you have."

Theocoid recounts our get together last week and shows that he has a talent for more than code and theological blogging. I can't resist putting it all here ... he really should be writing novels.

We missed our initial meeting as my flight out of Boise left almost two hours late. However, we rescheduled for the evening just before I left. Julie sent me directions to an out-of-the-way eatery deep in the heart of Dallas, with the instruction that I to make sure no one followed. "Oh yes," she added, "have a newspaper under your left arm, and wear an Aggies ballcap so we can recognize you."

After a long week of work, I was feeling a little punchy anyway, so cruising the back streets of Dallas did little to improve my spirits. I found the diner, an odd little Tex-Mex joint with a broken neon sign that blinked "Jo s ats." I entered and was seated at a booth in a corner. I ordered a beer and waited a good 20 minutes before I noticed that written on the coaster in ink were the words, "Flip over." On the backside, was a note: "Go out the back, and we'll pick you up in the alley."

I finished my beer and made my way to the rear exit. As I did, a set of headlights flicked on, a Buick sedan glided up, and a door opened. "Get in."

I looked up and down the alley, then ducked in just, my foot just barely leaving the pavement before the vehicle pulled off.

"Did anyone see you leave?"

"No," I said, "Hey, what's this all about?"

"Too much to explain right now. Are you packing any heat?"

"No, unless you're talking about the Icy Hot I use for my strained back."

"You're a smart guy. Smart guys don't live long in this neck of the woods."

Tom drove. I noticed that the panel under the steering column had been ripped out, and some wires were spliced together haphazardly. Julie handed back something heavy and cold.

"You'll probably need this. Aim carefully. That's all the ammo you have."

"So what's up? I thought we were just getting together for a nice meal and some chat."

"Yeah, well, that was until we got this new job, you see? It was supposed to be simple... a little marketing piece with some product listings, four colors, a slam dunk in InDesign. And then, the scope creep. A tweak to the margins here, an extra column to a table there, and now we're looking at a 2500-page monstrosity with nested tables, custom layouts on every page, and a ransom-letter type style. I snapped. There's no going back."

I laughed, I cried, I wished my life was really this exciting.

What's Goin' On: The Dishwasher

Looking back, I see that it has been almost two years that we have been doing without the dishwasher.

As nearly as we can recall it began because the dishwasher was making an odd screeching sound and I did not want to pay the $75 service call to have a repairman come out just to tell me (as I darkly suspected) that buying a new one would be as cost effective as repairing it.

That had been happening a lot to us around that time.

However, we have another problem around the house right now (all this dust, where is it coming from?) and Tom's dark suspicions are that we will have to shell out some big bucks for something to do with ductwork.

If that's the case, I pronounced $75 a small price to pay to get the real story on possibly stopping washing dishes by hand. The charms had passed and I was tired. Perhaps it was because with Hannah home I was handwashing for three instead of two and that was my tipping point.

Whatever the reason, we really couldn't recall the problem. So I ran a trial load to see what the problem was.

Problem? What problem?

Other than the heating element not working, which was a previously known factor, there is nary a screech and everything is getting washed just fine.

I have a real feeling of luxury every time I wash the dishes and there are so few things to clean ... just the pots and pans? That's all?

So, Rose, your homecoming will be more joyous than you thought. There are not nearly as many dirty dishes to wash!

Rose Has Edited a "Crash the Superbowl" Contest Entry.

Rose sez:

I edited a Doritos commercial that a producer friend of mine at Columbia shot. I think it's pretty good and right now it is submitted to the Crash the Superbowl online contest. The winner is played during the Superbowl! ...and wins a lot of money...

So, having views betters our chances of making it to the final round.

Once you skip the intro, the video will pop up.

I watched this over Tom's shoulder this morning, only knowing that it was directed by a friend of Rose's who is attending Columbia. I liked it.

Did Tom tell me Rose edited it? No.

(sigh)

Upon opening my email I saw the message above. Swing by and take a look.

Tappa, Tappa, Tappa

Dinner was ending.

Suddenly a noise emanated mysteriously from within the dining room.

tap ...

tap ...

tap ...

What the?

Then Hannah and Tom who were at a different angle than I was burst out laughing. Zoe had an acorn stuck between the pads of a back foot. Every time her foot hit the floor, she tapped.

The funniest part, evidently, was when she kept picking up her foot after each tap and twisting back to look quizzically, wondering where that noise was coming from. Which accounted for the pause between the taps.

Boxers. Always entertaining. Often surprising.

In Non-Kindle Related News ...

... Hannah, falling prey to that impulse which sooner or later evidently grabs every Vet Tech and forces them to adopt a stray, brought home a little German Shepherd mix puppy.

He's about 3-1/2 months old, very sweet, and evidently has lived a life without any socialization whatsoever out in the countryside. A week ago, when he was first brought in, he would just try to dig his way out through the corner of whatever room he was in when a person came by. By the time that Hannah brought him home (after first asking permission with her own puppy-dog eyes working overtime), he had adjusted enough so that he actually was enjoying petting. The second day she brought him home, he endearingly raced around the house with his tale wagging and head high, a doggy grin on his face. You could imagine him saying, "Back again! This heavenly place does exist!"

The only problem is that he is extremely aggressive to other dogs. I don't mean that he growls or shows his teeth, although he does those things quite well. I mean that he flies at the first dog he sees ready to tear their faces off.

Which quite took the Boxers aback, as you can imagine.

You could see the big question mark over Wash's head as he asked himself, "What is this guy's problem? Why won't he play?"

Zoe was better prepared through her tougher personality but even she flinched before stepping up with a growl and raised hackles. Even then, though, her tail was still wagging.

Gotta love those Boxers.

However, after just two evenings and the weekend with us shuffling dogs from area to area behind a dog gate or in crates, little Zapp (for Zapp Brannigan, don't you know) has made more huge leaps in adjusting.

He now will lie quietly a lot of the time, even sleeping with the other dogs nearby (all are suitably restrained, as I said). In fact, during a Boxers-in-crates session he deliberately went and laid next to Zoe's crate, before dozing off. Twice. She looked suitably nervous, but was amiable enough in simply keeping an eye on this crazy pup.

Yesterday, he went and took a nap next to the dog gate where Wash was lying on the other side.

So, he is giving us hope that he can be rehabilitated soon.

If only these positive signs weren't later punctuated by hostile outbursts we would all have calmer nerves. It is positively hilarious to see the much-larger Boxers stop for a second to gather their nerves before clinging to the furthest wall in order to walk by Zapp's crate. Which sometimes garners hostilities and sometimes doesn't.

And so we go ... it will be an interesting week, I am sure!

Rediscovering An Old Favorite: Cribbage

Cribbage works on several levels, with interlocking strategies that are a delight to manipulate. As with any card game, you're subject to the luck of the draw, but you can bend that luck in ways other games don't allow. A bad draw doesn't have to correlate to a bad hand. The choice of which cards to unload to the crib (as dealer or non-dealer), what order to lay down cards, and which points to attempt all factor into the strategy.

There really is nothing quite like it in the realm of card play. Despite its layered scoring system (which allows cards to score points more than once) and its unique terminology, it’s a fairly easy game to learn and teach. It also plays like gangbusters. People familiar with the rules and scoring system can knock through a full scoring track in about 15 to 20 minutes.

Thomas L. McDonald recently learned how to play cribbage and has a delightful post up discussing the game. I am indebted to his discovery because it made me suddenly remember that was one of my favorite card games from growing up. My parents played and then we all learned to play. I vaguely remember teaching it to Tom when we were first married ... and then we had children and cribbage-playing time went out the window.

I found and dusted off our little travel-board for scoring, pulled out the Hoyle's Book of Games from the game shelf, and sat down with Rose to rediscover the game that I barely remembered how to play. It was easy to pick up again and easy for Rose to learn. As Thomas points out, within 15 minutes we were both playing as if we'd been doing it nonstop all along. As well, my family had never played with "muggins," "his nobs," and "his heels" so that adds a fun dimension ... as well as one which Rose remembers much better than I do most of the time. Which makes me a muggins more than I'd like!

It really is much simpler than the plethora of scoring rules makes it seem so give it a try if you haven't encountered cribbage before.

Something I Really LIke - Pupcakes!

Hannah had a gift certificate to Target and came home with Hello, Cupcake! and What's New, Cupcake? which she promptly proceeded to use. Luckily, she was provided with the perfect event as the vet where she works is having a goodbye party today for two vet techs who are going away to college.

These were amazingly easy. Plus, they will taste as good as they look as Hannah eschewed the authors' cake mix and canned frosting suggestions and baked from scratch chocolate cupcakes to adorn with real buttercream frosting. Now that's how you do it!

I'm Thankful ... for Martha's story ... and a lot more

So I'm reading this book, Finding Martha's Place, and it is not at all what I expected. Partly that is because it is a true story about a woman finding her way out of poverty and mental illness to have a famous soul food restaurant. Finding her soul, so I thought before I began reading it, through the restorative power of cooking.

That's there. But that's somehow almost incidental to what I'm finding. I have to admit that I am not reading this book the right way. Or maybe I need to say, I'm not reading it in order. I was so astounded by the forward, the Overture it is called, with it's strong and natural praise of God and prayer that I began flipping around in it. Saw glimpses of Martha's mental illness and the voices in her head (called The Company ... which puts me in mind of Legion from the Bible), saw glimpses of her poverty-filled childhood, her later mental anguish and desire to be able to take care of and mother her four boys, glimpses of her home again and cooking and caring for those boys, and glimpses of earlier when, most astounding of all, she picked up a Bible one day when in a mental institution and God began connecting with her through the words inside. I love the straight forward way she reads the stories and puts Jesus in His most human context, which is why He came in the first place to show us that love in person. I love the fact that when she went home the voice in her head was love and speaking to her in a way that any Christ follower can recognize. She calls it the voice of love. And I relate absolutely to the way she is astounded when the Bible continually flips open to the same passage for her, even when it is a completely different Bible. Been there myself. Not much, but when it counted.

She writes about this so naturally. Or actually, Marcus Brotherton does. But I believe he is giving us Martha's story in her words. That's why it is real. You can feel the truth.

Obviously, I can. And I really need to go back to chapter three or so and take up the story in order. By this time you can tell that I also am resolved to get my Catholic women's book club to read this book. But in my flipping I came to the acknowledgments page which, for some reason, made me think of all that I am thankful for ...

So much to be thankful for and all of it people really ... and I wanted to sit down and get it down while I was thinking about it. And that's why we have this stream-of-consciousness mid-book review. Also, my list...which is so random in some ways, though not in others clearly.

• For our FedEx lady, who is always smiling because, "you don't know when your smile makes a big difference in someone's day, maybe the most important difference." And, who when I said, "That's right" looked me in the eye and nodded and said, "I'm a Christian too ..."
  
• For Joanette, my sister. But not my sister really ... she's a soul sister. We're connected somehow and when she talks, God uses her on me. So I listen.
• For good friends like Lizzie, Heather O., and Dr. Gemma ... who have become more than just blogging or podcasting pals. They've gotten under my skin.
• For Heather and for Susan ... who are going through those hard times with serious illnesses of a parent, and the final goodbye in one case ... for their friendship and for their reminder of those hard moments of grace when we need it most.
• For Dr. France (or was it French? I wasn't in the best circumstances to remember ...) who astounded me by smiling at my father in the hospital and saying, "I guess Jesus isn't ready to take you home just yet." I didn't know that a doctor in a hospital would dare say such a thing, but it was a little sign for us.
• For the anonymous lady in the hospital cafe who stopped at our table and, on one of our worst days ever, smiled and wished us a good day. Simple act. God's timing.
  
• For Dad, when we were sitting on the side of his hospice bed when I was saying goodbye really, but actually we were saying, "Until we meet again" as I begged him to take God's hand when he died so that he could finally be truly happy. And for the tears in his eyes as he cried out, "I will, I will!"
• For Mom, who began praying during that whole experience of Dad's final illness and death. Who, when I asked her if I could send her a Bible with commentary I thought she'd like, said, "Well, maybe after I get over all this [current illness] and then I can think about it." I paused, "Well ..." thinking of how to say what I was thinking without sounding pushy. Into the silence, she said slowly, "or I guess that these times are when we need it too." Amen.
• For Lisa, who inspired me with her spiritual growth and wisdom when she said about Dad's death, "What did I learn? That we must take care of these bodies God has given us and that the devil is real and we have to keep our eyes open."
• For my brother who is just about the only person I know who will talk about God the way I do. And believes and steps out in faith every day. (And for his wife, Jackie, whose hard-edged Christian reality is an inspiration.)
• For Tom who gives me movie moments (and you can interpret that however you want)
• For Hannah and Rose ... who have given me so much more than the gift of their selves in my life. They have brought along their friends and taught me that I love teenagers.
  

That's not all ... but it's some. God is good. Thanks Martha for making me think about it.

And now I'm terribly embarrassed and must hit publish post and go away before I erase all of this.

That's Good; That's Bad

That's Good ... Hannah

She'll graduate this summer as a Wildlife Biologist but has been troubled about how to work with animals while remaining close to her other love ... urban life. (She's not fond of country life.) Her Urban Wildlife class gave her hope of a career combining both. This week 911 Wildlife made a recruitment presentation and she's over the moon. They're the only urban wildlife specialists who have built their business based on The Humane Society's plan for solving pest problems in a way that is good for the people and the animals. And then she could stay in Texas. That's good for us too!

That's Bad ... Newsweek and Shirley Jackson

In this Newsweek review of LOA books (via Books Inq) the writer derides LOA for producing a complete volume of Shirley Jackson's writing, "A writer mostly famous for one short story, "The Lottery." Is LOA about to jump the shark?"

Steven Riddle decrys reviewers who are ignorant of their subjects and I agree. Check his additional comments and my expansion on this topic in his comments box.

That's Good ... Rose

She's getting along swimmingly in her screenwriting class where they must produce a full length script. I have been having a grand time talking with her as her idea is developed. Naturally, as I am her mother, I am a fan. However, I like her idea so much that I want to see the movie it would make! Luckily, I am not the only fan Rose has. This teacher is making good comparisons to some famous writers who share Rose's gift for subtlety, irony, and unique presentation. Who knows how it will all wind up but it does give her hope that she might be able to write in addition to (or instead of) her planned editing career. Which she is brilliant at, I might add, as editing is story telling and that is her talent.

That's Bad ... WSJ and "And Then There Were None"
I am not even going to put the link to their travesty in describing Agatha Christie's "And Then There Were None" in the weekly column, "Five Best: Books on Guilt." I wonder if the guest author has even read the book since he misrepresented the point of why the nursery rhyme was in the bedrooms, in addition to revealing a point that is meant to dawn on the reader slowly. A more heinous crime is that the brief summary contains half of the solution to the entire mystery. In fact, what is revealed in that summary destroys most of the point of the afterward wherein the mystery is revealed as well as the sex of the murderer. For shame.

Also, if you haven't read (or reread) that book in a while, go get it. There is an excellent reason it is a mystery classic.

IT'S SNOWING! AND IT'S BEAUTIFUL!

So, maybe 3 inches so far (?) have fallen.

I stepped outside before driving to work, looking up into the fat, heavy, moist snowflakes falling from the sky. I thought how glorious and creative God is to find such a beautiful way to give us winter precipitation. And how good He is to make us so that we can thrill at its beauty.

Of course, simultaneously comes agonizing from those involved in our parish's Beyond Cana marriage retreat which begins tomorrow in a location that is a 30 minute drive away. Babysitters, icy roads, and attendees are in peril!

Any prayers are, of course, appreciated ... though I feel extremely calm about it all. Of course, we only have to take our dogs to the vet for boarding. I am, naturally, praying for everyone, although right now I seem to be channeling St. John Vianney as what comes to mind is:

God commands you to pray, but he forbids you to worry.

Good advice no matter what the weather!

In related news, especially for those on the East Coast

This Winter Funk Warning announcement from Dr. Boli's Celebrated Magazine.

THE NATIONAL WEATHER Service has issued a Winter Funk Warning for the counties of Allegheny, Beaver, Butler, Fayette, Greene, Lawrence, Washington, Westmoreland, and Yohogania. A Winter Funk Warning means that prolonged inactivity enforced by unusually high amounts of snowfall will cause blue funks, lugubriousness, depression, grumpiness, annoyance, irritability, petulance, sadness, even more lugubriousness, and mental dry rot. Residents are urged to keep themselves entertained with a good book and not do anything stupid.

This 'N That: the Source Edition

From life in person, you know - without that virtual part.Although much of this seems to be ordered over the internet. Which puts us back to using virtual reality to get something real in our hands. Oh well ...

iResQ and Refurbished iPods
Say you've done something like, oh, drop your iPod face down on your tile floor and the glass cracked (cracked in many pieces!). What cha gonna do? Well iResq fixes up iPods and a lot of other things too, such as computers. A new piece of glass? $39 (on sale - do that many people break the glass?) and one day turnaround. The Apple Store sells refurbished iPods for a pretty good price if it isn't worth fixing your iPod.  

UPDATE: iResq was as good as their word. I have never experienced such follow through and I now have "my precious" back. In fact, I now have sent off the famously "washed with the laundry" nano to see if their free diagnosis will find that whatever makes it randomly stop working can be fixed for not too much cash. Yes, I did it the same day that I got back my iPod. That's how good they were.

Dog Treat Warehouse
With three dogs in the house (we didn't plan to have a pack, it just happened somehow) it is no joke when I say that we were spending a fortune buying knotted rawhide dog bones. As well, we were having to scour local sources ... stores just don't offer quantity packs of dog bones all the time. These 8-10" bones are an excellent quality and much less expensive than anything in our local stores. Although where I'm going to stash this giant bag of 30 bones, well, that is a different problem.

Delicious and Wheat Free
A friend's recent discovery that she has wheat allergies sent me looking through recipe archives. I was surprised at just how many recipes are in there that are not dependent on wheat. Of course, they are purely delicious, which is why they are in there in the first place!

The Toffee House
A friend very kindly sent us some of this toffee. I never thought I'd taste toffee better than my mother's but these people did it. Highly recommended. And I like their sense of humor. This was on the little card in the tin:

This toffee came from a recipe that was handed down for generations. (Well, probably. However, we have to admit that it wasn't our family that did the handing down). It's a delicious adaptation of  recipe we found in a magazine. We'd love to impress you with tales of delivering this toffee to the Kings of England or that the Pope has some every morning, but we can't.

All of that aside, we're certain that you'll immediately fall in love wit this tempting confection.

I'll testify to that. You will.

Eternal rest grant unto Keith Austin, O Lord ... (expanded)

Eternal rest grant unto Keith Austin, O Lord,
and let perpetual light shine upon him.
May he rest in peace.

I had a call from my brother saying that my father died around 6:00 this evening.

The good thing is that I feel he at least had his toes over the line into Purgatory. I never thought I'd be able to say that. Thank you St. Monica and St. Augustine for praying alongside me (and most probably more faithfully)! It almost did take the ten years I vowed to pray for my parents to come to know God. I only can give thanks also that I didn't know it took St. Monica 26 years of praying for her son, Augustine. I thought it was ten years and vowing to match that if necessary was bad enough!

For at least a month before my father's final illness began, my prayers for him would result in this thought which ran seemingly nonstop when he crossed my mind, "The father of so many tears will not be lost."

This, of course, echoes what the Bishop of Tagaste had said to St. Monica in an effort to get her to stop bothering him in her entreaties for help with wayward son Augustine, who later became one of the greatest Doctors of the Church: "It is impossible that the son of so many tears will be lost." That was indeed a comforting reminder to which I clung and one which I was privileged to see God answer richly in Dad's last days. Not only for my father, but for my mother too. My cup runneth over ...

These lines from one of my favorite Easter hymns repeat themselves in my mind and heart as they did after my last talk with my father:

The strife is o’er, the battle done;
The victory of life is won;
The song of triumph has begun: Alleluia!

My heartfelt thanks go to anyone and everyone who prayed for my father over these last few weeks of his illness. Truly spiritual battles were fought, warfare was waged, and the good fight won. I praise God and offer this prayer for my father and all my loved ones who are now gone from us.

God our Father,
Your power brings us to birth,
Your providence guides our lives,
and by Your command we return to dust.

Lord, those who die still live in Your presence,
their lives change but do not end.
I pray in hope for my family,
relatives and friends,
and for all the dead known to You alone.

In company with Christ,
Who died and now lives,
may they rejoice in Your kingdom,
where all our tears are wiped away.
Unite us together again in one family,
to sing Your praise forever and ever.

Prayers are solicited, if we happen to cross your mind, for my father's soul and for the comfort and peace of my mother (and of my sister as she does all the earthly stuff that has to be organized right now). Also, I ask your prayers for my mother, that her faith will continue to grow and be of comfort during this hard time. And also that she may begin this journey without my father with her hand in God's. Thank you ...

Prayer for the Dying

For my father who is suddenly failing much faster and harder than he has since his miraculous rallying in the hospital ... he may have hours or a few days, but his time is fast approaching ...

May Christ Who was crucified for your sake
free you from excruciating pain.

May Christ Who died for you
free you from the death that never ends.

May Christ the Son of the living God,
set you in the ever green loveliness of His Paradise,
and may He, the true Shepherd
recognize you as one of His own.

May you see your Redeemer face to face
and standing in His presence forever,
may you see with joyful eyes
Truth revealed in all its fullness.

Amen.

For my mother and for my brother who stand as witnesses to this mystery, I pray for their strength in the face of great sorrow.

"You do not realize the value of the good you are doing..."

You do not realize the value of the good you are doing. Think of how the farmer sows without seeing his crop in front of him. He trusts in the land to deliver his harvest. So why don't you put your trust in God? The day of the harvest will surely come.Imagine yourself in the middle of the planting season. The more we sow today, the more we can reap tomorrow. Remember those words of Holy scripture: "He that goes forth weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him" (Ps 125:6).

St. Augustine, Sermon 102, 5
Quoted in In Conversation with God, Vol. 5:
Ordinary Time, Weeks 24-34

I feel as if I have just come off of a two week retreat. A retreat that others are carrying on with my prayer support, I might add.

On the way back to Dallas, reviewing the astounding events that have taken place over a two-week period, I again was in awe of God and his mysterious workings. The result was that for the first two hours I played my "God mix" as loud as I could take it and sang along in my private praise and worship session. Sometimes jubilant, sometimes crying ... as the Holy Spirit touched my soul.

I am sorry to say that first I had to overcome my selfish desire to stay home and not disrupt my life which was flowing along nicely. That took a couple of days. I was then able to throw myself fully into the humble tasks of driving Mom, sitting at Dad's bedside both when it seemed each breath would be his last and then as he miraculously recovered his faculties completely (and I use the word "miraculous" deliberately), helping clean out their house, making sure Mom remembered to eat, and suchlike. Good works to be sure but nothing exalted. Except that, not seeing with God's eyes, those experiences are exactly what enabled me to have such a perspective that I could say to my father before I left, "When you die and see God holding out His hand, take it and go with Him. You can't imagine the love and happiness there and I want you to have it."

Not exactly words I ever imagined myself saying to my father. Or him crying with me and saying, "I will!"

I couldn't have imagined how my sister, brother, and I would all in our own ways provide what was needed, both practically and spiritually, for my mother and father ... each according to our talents and insights.

I certainly couldn't have imagined that a demonic encounter by a down-to-earth family member, that was impossible to mistake for coincidence, would be the thing that would suddenly prompt a new focus for my mother, a new way of thinking, and a series of conversations about spiritual warfare. I am positive that The Enemy, also as short sighted as me, wouldn't have imagined that such blatancy would be used by God to such a result that my mother told me on the phone that she prayed last night. Glory be to God! Surely her reaching out to God is something that she will sorely need in the trials of the days to come and of adjusting to new life later.

The growth and light never end. We are not often privileged to see strands come together as God weaves a tapestry, but this is one of those times.

I am now prayer support as my father's "retreat" continues. I do not think it has long to go as he is becoming weaker. Of your kindness, please continue to add your prayers to mine for my father and mother.