Coffee Buttercream Frosting

Mmmmm ... just right to go with Chocolate Buttermilk Cake. Pick it up at Meanwhile, Back in the Kitchen.

It's All Downhill from Here

A timely advertisement from Dr. Boli's Celebrated Magazine. Click the ad to enlarge.

No Prayer Request is Too Large, No Prayer Request is Too Small ...

... all of them are going, going, gone ... straight from our hearts to the Lord's (ummm) ears (?).

Anyway, you get the point.

Got an email apologizing for not having a really serious problem but wanting a prayer. Nooooo, never apologize for wanting prayers. Sometimes the things I have to pray about the most are quite small.

What's that saying?

Work as if it all depends on you and pray as if it all depends on God.

Or words to that effect. And that means a lot of prayer over all things great and small.

From my noon reading ...

I am rereading, slowly, the best book I have ever read about confession, Prayer and Pardon: A Sinner's Guide to Confession by Fr. Francis Randolph. This went straight to my heart and perhaps your heart needs it also today.

It is the love of God that makes the sacrament of confession possible. More than anything else, that is what I want you to remember out of this book: that God loves us already and is on our side in the struggle to reflect that love, to accept it, to pass it on to others. The heart of the Christian gospel is the message that God was born as one of us and that his name shall be called "Emmanuel", which means "God is with us."

From the Top of the Stack

A little something that struck me from my current reading, Render Unto Caesar by Charles Chaput.

The church engages the world in two ways: through the life of each individual believer and through the common action of believers working together. Every Christian life, and every choice in every Christian life, matters. There's no special headquarters staff that handles the action side of the Gospel. That task belongs to all of us. Baptism, for Catholics, does not simply wash away sin. It also incorporates the baptized person into a new life; and part of that new life is a mandate to act; to be God's agent in the world. Laypeople, clergy, and religious all have different tasks within the community of faith. Everybody, however, shares the basic mission: bringing Jesus Christ to the world, and the world to Jesus Christ.

Laypeople have the special task of evangelizing the secular world. And this makes sense. Most Catholics--the vast majority--are laypeople. They have jobs, friends, and families. They can witness Jesus Christ on a daily basis, silently or out loud, directly or indirectly by their words and actions. If we look for opportunities to share our faith with others, God always provides them. This is why self-described Catholics who live so anonymously that no one knows about their faith, Catholics who fail to prove by their actions what they claim to believe with their tongue, aren't really living as "Catholics" at all.

It's also why asking Catholics to keep their faith out of public affairs amounts to telling them to be barren; to behave as if they were neutered. Nothing could be more alien to the meaning of baptism. The Christian idea of witness, which comes from the Greek word martyr, isn't limited to a bloody death in the arena for the faith. All Christians have the command to be a martyr in the public arena-to live a life of conscious witness wherever God places them, no matter how insignificant it seems and whether or not they ever see the results.

I am privileged to see this sort of Catholic witness every six months, although this is at a time when my Beyond Cana retreat team friends are stepping out of their daily lives. They willingly and gladly step up and make heroic sacrifices to serve married couples in our parish. Most have little ones and must arrange babysitting for an entire weekend. When they return home, they are plunged right back into the thick of daily life with no time for rest. Couples with babies as young as 1 month old have sacrificed mightily in order to give a talk or serve even a greater role ... not because they lightly offered, but because there was no one else to step in, because the need was great and they could help.

Tom and I were called to this ministry at a convenient time with our children in high school and now in college. We do not have to give what these couples give. However, we see it as a moment when we can witness a microcosm of what the Church does in the lives of others each and every day ... through the lives of laypeople.

Ominous Music Heard Throughout U.S. Sends Nation into Panic

Ominous Music Heard Throughout U.S. Sends Nation Into Panic

Trust The Onion to come up with something so funny. Via The Anchoress.

Summing up the "donnybrook" over Kennedy's passing ...

... which Tom and I observed with prayers for his soul, but otherwise complete indifference. So much for "a nation in mourning."

However, in other places the blogosphere was reeling from punches exchanged right and left by various Catholics. The Anchoress sums up in her inimitable way, while turning the focus back where it belongs ... on ourselves.

And we should perhaps consider what our acceptance of a preferred, easier-to-take narrative concerning a dreadful summer night in Massachusetts has wrought forty years on; we are now a society comfortable with relativistic “truthiness.” Something may be true, simply because one wishes it to be.

How culpable are we for that? How much damage did we do to Kennedy, and to ourselves, by indulging and enabling his reckless behavior, because we loved his familial myth?

A good piece (as all hers are) and one that should be read by anyone who wonders why politicians do what they do ... and who should also consider our culpability. That includes everyone, I think, including Tom and me.

The Butterfly Circus: Interesting, Original, Unusual, and Full of Hope

At the height of the Great Depression, the showman of a renowned circus leads his troupe through the devastated American landscape, lifting the spirits of audiences along the way. During their travels they discover a man without limbs at a carnival sideshow, but after an intriguing encounter with the showman he becomes driven to hope against everything he has ever believed. Starring Eduardo Verástegui (Bella), Doug Jones (Pan's Labyrinth, Fantastic Four) and featuring the debut performance of Nick Vujicic.

About 20 minutes long and well worth the time.

Catholic Media Review where I saw this mentioned, says it is up for only one day so don't delay.

What's my defining post?

That's the question raised by Jen at Conversion Diary. Sheez. That gal is great at coming up with interesting questions. She has her answer and for the rest of us to join in, is holding an impromptu carnival to see what everyone feels their own defining posts are.

I'll be thinking about this, but frankly I feel I am so all over the place with posts that I really am not sure. I mean do I go with something like the post I wrote about forgiveness, the post where I first 'fessed up I was married in a nightgown (not the one with the photo and story ... the prequel to that), or the first movie I want to see in heaven? There must be something in between that is more defining.

If anyone has suggestions, maybe something that just springs to mind, I'll be more than happy to hear them.

Back to Movie Watching ... With a Vengeance

It occurs to me that the three movies we watched this week all had an element of, shall we say, forcefulness that was unintentional. C'est la vie ...

• Chinatown
  The classic neo-noir movie starring Jack Nicholson and Faye Dunaway, featuring a host of "hey, it's that guy!" character actors. Rose loved this movie so much that she continually asked if I'd seen it yet. Well, now I can say yes and, sadly, tell her how unimpressed we both were. The look was great, the actors were great ... but where was the dialogue? Out for a nap, evidently. Accompanied by the plot, which I found less than impressive as well. My grade: B-/C+


• Gran Torino
  I basically knew the plot of an aging Korean war veteran, Walt Kowalski (Clint Eastwood), whose neighborhood has changed drastically as it filled with Hmong immigrants and now edges on ghetto. I was ready for the racist talk, the helping the picked-on kid next door to learn what it means to be a real man, the look at how America has changed. What I was completely unprepared for was the much larger lesson underlying the entire movie. I appreciated those who didn't spoil my discovery by spelling out more, so I also will leave that unrevealed. This is going into my Top 20 Movies list ... although I'm not sure what I'm going to kick out to make room. My grade: A+


• JCVD
  Here's what I knew about the movie. Jean-Claude Van Damme plays himself in a self-aware role. I liked that idea. More about the plot:
  

  Jean-Claude Van Damme is an aging action star going through a bitter divorce and custody battle. He needs money to pay his lawyers, and new roles are not exactly rolling in by the pile. With few doors left open in Hollywood, Van Damme opts to return to Brussels, his roots, in order to clear his head and maybe find a renewed career in the international market. Upon arriving in Brussels Van Damme travels to the local post-office to pick up the funds he needs to pay his lawyer, only to stumble into a robbery attempt that quickly turns into a hostage situation. Through a combination of bad luck and public (mis)perception, Van Damme gets fingered for the crime-in-progress; his face gets splashed all over the news, and even while cops surround the post-office, a larger crowd of fans begins to gather outside the post office in support of their hometown legend. (Screen Rant)

  Here's what I didn't know about the movie. We expected it to be played much more lightly, a la My Name is Bruce (haven't seen it, only read about it) where actor Bruce Campbell is called upon for help by a town who mistakenly thinks his movie powers apply to real life also. That movie was played very lightly as I understood it.
  
  We didn't expect to see an art house quality movie where Van Damme breaks the 4th wall repeatedly. A fairly simple story, it showcased Van Damme's acting abilities which were surprisingly good. As well, we know all the jokes about Van Damme's career. So, it seems, does he and these are used in a very effective spot where we see him factually assessing his life and career, for the good, the bad, and the ugly. I'm not sure if we liked it so much because it was so completely something we didn't expect or if it was just that good. At any rate, my grade: B.
  

May God, who has begun this good work in you, now bring it to fulfillment

Via Deacon Greg. And, yes, I cried.

UPDATE
The Anchoress didn't cry but instead had some very uplifting thoughts which she shared with us. Go and read.

Mother's Loving Goodbye Saves Her Baby's Life

... Doctors had told the parents that baby Rachel only had only minutes to live because her heart was beating once every ten seconds and she was not breathing.

Isbister remembers:

I didn’t want her to die being cold. So I lifted her out of her blanket and put her against my skin to warm her up. Her feet were so cold.

It was the only cuddle I was going to have with her, so I wanted to remember the moment.” Then something remarkable happened. The warmth of her mother’s skin kick started Rachael’s heart into beating properly, which allowed her to take little breaths of her own.

We couldn’t believe it – and neither could the doctors. She let out a tiny cry.

The doctors came in and said there was still no hope – but I wasn’t letting go of her. We had her blessed by the hospital chaplain, and waited for her to slip away. But she still hung on.

And then amazingly the pink color began to return to her cheeks. She literally was turning from gray to pink before our eyes, and she began to warm up too.

The sad part is that when the baby was born, doctors took one look at her and said ‘no’. ...

There is more and a current photo of mother and baby. Once again, doctors' don't always know everything and I'm sure they were thrilled to be proven wrong.

Via the indispensable New Advent.

Giants of the Frost

Fleeing a failed engagement and mother who makes life decisions based on a psychic’s predictions, skeptic Victoria Scott joins a weather team on a Scandinavian island. Harassed by insomnia and her unpredictable boss, she writes off her dreams of a breath-sucking hag and forest creature made of twigs as nightmares. Eventually, however, she discovers that these creatures are real and possibly the least of those she may encounter.

The island is actually Midgard, a gate between our world and that of the old Nordic god, Asgard. The book alternately tells Victoria’s story and that of Vidar, a son of Odin, who has been waiting a thousand years for Victoria to be born. In Vidar’s world we meet, among others, his bondmaid Aud, who tells much of the story, and his cousin Loki, trickster god of the Norse pantheon.

The beginning of my review of Giants of the Frost. Read it all at SFFaudio.

Heavens to Betsy, I Almost Forgot St. Monica!

Icon Source
where you also may find a three day novena to St. Monica
(I know ... three day novena ... never mind, you might like the prayers anyway)

I don't mention St. Monica yet, but she and her son, St. Augustine, and I have been on a prayer journey together since right after I came into the Church. I have a special intention and told them that I'd pray for ten years, if necessary, just like she did for her bad, wandering son's conversion.

Thank goodness I didn't realize it was 26 years (or something like that)!

Now, I may be praying for the entire 26 years (or something like that) anyway, because I know God doesn't answer prayers according to our timetables. Good thing I have St. Monica to help me out with persistence in the face of never seeing a single sign that your prayers for someone will be answered. (We're on year 8 by the way.)

St. Monica has much more to recommend her to us than her prayers and persistence over Augustine, however. She put up with a lot and, indeed, is an excellent example for those who might like to insist that though Christ turned the other cheek, we weren't meant to be door mats.

Monica was married to a pagan official by the name of Patricius. He was a very generous man, but violent tempered and dissolute, although tradition tells us he never laid a hand on her. She also had her mother-in-law living with her and this woman is described as being very cantankerous. Monica suffered much insult and ridicule because of her family, but her patience, gentleness, compassion and love won out in the end and both her husband and mother-in-law were converted.

A brief, but good history of her may be read here.

Proclaim It: I am a Roman Catholic. I am not ashamed.

Much thanks goes to expat whose email led me to this video.

Jesus is My Bestie?

Yesterday, I linked to Darwin Catholic's musings in Jesus is Not My Pal. Darwin was prompted by those who like to get reassurance that we know Jesus "personally" to considering the concept of Jesus as "best friend." Which he rejected.

... The ways in which I would normally envision Christ are not guy-next-door, my-buddy-the-savior kind of images. Christ the King, enthroned in eternal splendor into union with whom all Christians wish to enter for life everlasting. Christ Crucified, pouring out his blood for the sins of the whole world. Christ Risen, triumphing over the reign of death which had doomed humanity since the Fall. Christ in the Eucharist, kneeling before the glittering monstrance in which the Body of Christ forms the center of a sunburst of golden rays, with the crucifix above and the tabernacle behind.

I could relate to this. One of my favorite meditations, and I know I am not alone in this, is Psalm 139.

O LORD, you have probed me, you know me:
you know when I sit and stand; you understand my thoughts from afar.

My travels and my rest you mark; with all my ways you are familiar.
Even before a word is on my tongue, LORD, you know it all.

Behind and before you encircle me and rest your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is beyond me, far too lofty for me to reach.

Where can I hide from your spirit? From your presence, where can I flee?
If I ascend to the heavens, you are there; if I lie down in Sheol, you are there too.

If I fly with the wings of dawn and alight beyond the sea,
Even there your hand will guide me, your right hand hold me fast.

If I say, "Surely darkness shall hide me, and night shall be my light" --
Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are but one. ...

I think about this and then I reflect upon all life and creation coming to be through Jesus' creative power.

Well.

That fills me with awe.

Thinking of that all-creative being stooping to befriend me? Even more awe. And thankfulness. Natch.

Jesus being my bestie though? Nope. I'm not feeling it.

However, Darwin's meditation galvanized Diana, the Faithful Traveler (who makes some great videos of American shrines, y'all ... check them out), into commenting at length about her conception of what a best friend really is and how this translates into her relationship with Jesus. She put her comment both here and at Darwin's, where there are also some other good reflections, though none with the passion which Diana feels and communicates beautifully. I especially liked the prayer she shared, written by St. Augustine (his feast day is tomorrow, btw) which is clearly destined for my quote journal. I have long had a special affection for St. Augustine who is my first saint "bestie."

Prayer of Saint Augustine

O Jesus Christ, you are my Father, my merciful God, my great King, my good Shepherd, my only Master, my best helper, my beloved friend of overwhelming beauty, my living Bread, my eternal priest. You are my guide to my heavenly home, my one true light, my holy joy, my true way, my shining wisdom, my unfeigned simplicity, the peace and harmony of my soul, my perfect safeguard, my bounteous inheritance, my everlasting salvation.

My loving Lord, Jesus Christ, why have I ever loved or desired anything else in my life but you, my God? Where was I when I was not in communion with you? From now on, I direct all my desires to be inspired by you and centred on you. I direct them to press forward for they have tarried long enough, to hasten towards their goal, to seek the one they yearn for.

O Jesus, let him who does not love you be accursed, and filled with bitterness. O gentle Jesus, let every worthy feeling of mine show you love, take delight in you and admire you. O God of my heart and my inheritance, Christ Jesus, may my heart mellow before the influence of your spirit and may you live in me. May the flame of your love burn in my soul. May it burn incessantly on the altar of my heart. May it glow in my innermost being. May it spread its heat into the hidden recesses of my soul and on the day of my consummation may I appear before you consumed in your love. Amen.

I was plagued by this question after reading Diana's defense of Jesus as her best friend. I did not want to bother with it, truth to tell, but it recurred so often that I finally stopped what I was doing and just sat there considering how I would define my relationship with Jesus. I am truly indebted to Diana for her passion as otherwise it wouldn't have occurred to me to so something as simple as just sit and think about how I feel about Jesus. It's a good thing to do. I highly recommend it.

I possibly have shared before that I actually was moved to go on my CRHP retreat (gosh is it really over 5 years ago?) because I realized that I didn't know Jesus well enough. Or how about at all. I was reading book after book where saints and authors were going on and on about knowing Jesus personally. Finally, it occurred to me that I really ought to look into this if I was a Catholic. Certainly I never turned to Him in prayer.

God the Father, sure thing.

The Holy Spirit? Well, no. But no one I was reading at the time was rhapsodizing about the Holy Spirit so He was low on my radar. Ironically enough, I came out of CRHP formation realizing that I had a solid beginning to being in love with the Holy Spirit. That is a love and trust that has lasted and grown. It is a rare day indeed that goes by without my reaching out in prayer several times to the Holy Spirit.

However, this is about Jesus. I did experience Jesus during that CRHP retreat. Not as a friend, whether best or otherwise. As one of the three in one, working hand in hand with the Father and Holy Spirit. I realize that sounds vague but just trust me on this. It was the Trinity in force, albeit also individually, that I encountered. The Jesus I encountered was someone to know, love, and trust personally. But not a best friend. No.

Pondering, I realize now that the person I met in Jesus then and the person who I have become more and more fond of, trustful of, in love with, if you will ... is more than a best friend could be. He is my Master. And you know what? I'm ok with that.

He is my Master in the best possible way, in a way that we really have no equivalent for here on earth. He does embody all those qualities that we love and treasure in best friends. But there is so very much more. What comes to mind are two examples, both from The Lord of the Rings and both of which are better realized in the books than in the movies. Frodo and Sam are a wonderful example of a loving, trusting Master-servant relationship, that transcends best friend. The other that comes to mind is Gandalf and Frodo. I know that Tolkien's letters mentioned Gandalf as a guardian angel, but the loving, protective way that Gandalf guides Frodo and sacrifices himself for the others, while leaving Frodo free to make his own decisions, is for me an aspect of Jesus as my Master.

Clearly, our human language and relationships are all going to fall short of what Jesus means to each person. For Diana, he is "my best helper, my beloved friend of overwhelming beauty" and that is what speaks to her soul. I love that.

For me there is so much more that St. Augustine captures that rises above and goes beyond ... and they are all true for me as well. If I had to pick one sentence from that prayer that makes my heart sing and thrills my soul with recognition it would be this:

... my one true light, my holy joy, my true way, my shining wisdom, my unfeigned simplicity, the peace and harmony of my soul, my perfect safeguard ...

There is no word except the name of Jesus that means these for me. As we are human and must settle for words, however inadequate, I will settle as did St. Peter, St. Paul, and so many other greater souls before me ... my Lord and my God. My only Master.

On requiring conflict to be a good story ... and trying to find a good shoe to bang on the table

Jesse at SFFaudio turned in an excellent but thought-provoking review of Clifford D. Simak's Way Station, saying:

A couple years back a friend of mine (a filmmaker and used bookstore owner) was telling me about one of the scripts he was working on. He said something to the effect of “every story must have conflict.” That’s probably not a new concept, not original to him, but it was new to me – at least in those words. Now I love such sweeping declarations – they give my dialectical brain something to hack away at. It seems a fairly straightforward a concept – and on the face of it seems likely – but, that always gets me thinking: If it sounds so obvious it is probably at least partially false. So I thought about it for maybe thirty seconds and then pointed out that ‘pornographic films need not have conflict – but they can still have a story.’ Illustrating I said “Pizza delivery guy comes to the door – half naked woman answers – sex follows.” It has a beginning, a middle and a money shot. My friend and I both laughed. But, I’ve been thinking about this meme ever since. Now, with Way Station I think I have a more serious defeater to my friend’s all encompassing rule about storytelling. There is very little conflict in Way Station. That is actually a pretty common thing for author Clifford D. Simak. His stories are highly pastoral, full of backstories being revealed, mysterious farmers and friendly aliens. Conflict may be mentioned, as having happened long ago (or in some distant future) – but shots are rarely fired in anger. I’m thinking back on all of the Simak I’ve read, and in it all I can’t recall much conflict at all. And yet, I love his stories.

Intrigued, I couldn't remember if I had ever read Way Station so I requested it from the library. It really is a wonderful story, easy to read, and thought provoking in its own pastoral way.

However ...

You knew that was coming, right?

However, it is so far from being without conflict that I wondered if Jesse had actually read the same book I did. True enough the story is reflective, pastoral, and low key. Yet within those pages lies governmental interference, an abusive hillbilly father, an angry mob (and I think they might even have torches), galactic unrest, and an angry alien with a ray gun. That is without also taking into consideration the protagonist's very real concerns weighing his humanity and love of nature against his curiosity and desire to leave it behind and become a citizen of a larger world.

This has sparked an interesting conversation between Jesse and myself. As far as I can ascertain, his definition of conflict is so very different from mine as to require direct action. However, I could be wrong about that. (But let's face it, I don't really believe I am wrong about that! I am nothing if not self aware.)

I am hampered in this by having only Jesse's and my own opinions involved. If anyone else has read the book and has thoughts on the nature of conflict, its relationship to a good story, and whether it is contained in Way Station, please do join in the conversation. Nicely, of course.

Now, having found that I tend to wear soft-soled shoes, I am going in search of a properly hard soled one in order to begin pounding on the table!

Not long ago in a supermarket not so far away ...

Reposted for Mom and, frankly for me. I loved this.

Happy 21st Birthday, Hannah!

Where has the time gone?

From adorable little one to confident young woman ... all the time together has been a blessing to us. Even the tussles! Especially her gentle, loving spirit and sharp, intelligent humor (as evidenced in this superheroes series).

We will be going to Newport's for sophisticated seafood and for that all-important marker of being a legal adult, a cocktail in public.

I'm making a Doboschtorte, her favorite cake.

We're so happy that she is here with us this year and not already at college! (And we miss Rose, who is already in Chicago and we wish could be here with us for the celebration.)

I'm am repeating this viewing of the things she loves best, slightly updated ... simply lots and lots o' critters. (Don't just pick these up and pass them on, please. Click through on the links to check permissions, some of which I have obtained personally for this blog alone.)

Happy birthday , Hannah!

Cat Closeup

Owl

Goose

Colt

Mallard in Flight

Brown Hare

Pelican

Dinner Guest

Crystal River Heron

Hawk Landing

Pink Dolphin

Geese

How Long Has It Been Since You've Seen George Lucas in Love?

Reposted for Mom and anyone else who loves a clever homage melding Star Wars and Shakespeare in Love.

Well, pardner, that's too long.

Update: darn it, the video's been yanked. HOWEVER, the Tim Burton piece below this hasn't been. Apologies all 'round and here's hoping that you enjoy the Tim Burton/Vincent Price collaboration.



I had completely forgotten this until Rose brought home 16 American Short Films.

Hilarious!

It also contains a feature by Tim Burton, Vincent, narrated by ... you guessed it ... Vincent Price.