Christmas Eve in the Weary World

 Christmas Eve found me motoring from Kansas to Arkansas with our geriatric cat, Cotton, and our middle aged Lab, Esther. I had given Cotton a tranquilizer for the five-hour drive, so she protested meekly but regularly from the carrier in the cargo area of my Ford Flex. 

I made frequent stops at convenience stores because I kept getting drowsy. Each time I had interactions with folks that kept me thinking of and praying for them for several miles after I departed.

At one, I wished a man with an unkempt gray beard and loose fitting clothes a Merry Christmas. 

We were retrieving drinks from the refrigerated cases at the back of the store. "Merry Christmas," he replied smiling. "Are you going to the casino?"

I smiled and told him "No, no, I'm not".

We each still had a door to the cooler open as he proceeded to tell me that he had just gotten off work and that his wife and children had gone away for Christmas, leaving him alone. So he was on his way to the casino to spend the holiday. 

"I'm so sorry," I said, caught off guard by his frankness and not really knowing how to respond.

Unperturbed, he described how the local casino is quite a bit nicer than the other one that he frequented. "You should try it," he said enthusiastically.

He said something else I didn't catch, and we both headed to the checkout counter, my thoughts whirling. Was he happy or sad that his family had left him alone for Christmas? I was waiting behind him when a young female clerk called me to her register.

I wished her a Merry Christmas, and she returned the greeting.

"I have to work, though," she explained. "I won't be able to see my kids till tomorrow."

"Oh, that's awful," I sympathized. "But luckily Christmas Day is just the first day of the Twelve Days of Christmas."

"Oh, that's good," she said. "I've never heard of that." 

Suddenly a young male clerk jumped in beside the one I was talking to and asked loudly, "Are you talking about Kwanzaa?"

"No," I said, feeling like I needed to shake my head vigorously to process all the conversations I had participated in since I entered the store. "I was talking about the Twelve Days of Christmas".

"Huh? Never heard of it," he confessed.

He had heard of Kwanzaa but not the Twelve Days of Christmas. Letting that sink in, I smiled and returned to my car. "Maybe I should try one of Cotton's tranquilizers," I mused.

"Meow," Cotton complained softly.

At my next convenience store stop, I pulled open the ladies' bathroom door to be immediately greeted by a loud bark. I was so surprised that I gasped loudly. A woman's voice sang out from one of the stalls, "It's all right. It's just my dog Rosco. He won't hurt you."

As there were only two stalls, I reluctantly entered the vacant one, separated from the the voice and the bark by one shared metal partition. Would Rosco stick his snout under the wall? I drew in my feet.

"HELLO? IS THIS THE COUNTY JAIL?" the voice next door boomed. "I'm looking for my fiancé. His name is..." The woman gave a man's name. After a short pause, she said, "Oh, ok. I'll call that one". Apparently her betrothed was locked up at a different location.

I exited as quickly as possible, seriously lamenting the loss of enclosed phone booths...and berating myself for not thanking God enough for all my many blessings.

Dreams Worth Keeping: Two Suckling Pigs, a Goose, and a Duck

"We need red solo cups, paper plates, napkins, a tablecloth, and a lot of lunch meat for sandwiches," my mom advised me shortly after learning that my sisters and some members of their families would be joining us for a five-day Christmas visit.  Some of them will be sleeping at Mom and Dad's house and some at ours, but Emma and I will be preparing both houses.

"And canned biscuits.  Lisa and her children like canned biscuits," she added, thinking hard.

My dad started telling me about how he wanted me to order hickory nuts and how delicious they are. By the next day he had been shopping for nuts online and discovered Black Walnuts coated in dark chocolate.  He asked me to order them.  His face would light up like a child's every time he mentioned them.  So far that has been two to three times a day.

"They're going to go pretty fast once everybody finds out how good they are,"  he confided to me, grinning happily.  "Make sure you order enough."

Where were my thoughts?

I began dreaming of pig roasted outdoors on a spit with all the menfolk gathered round in the heady smoke, talking and laughing and speculating on the doneness of the meat.

And I dreamed of succulent goose and duck.  I could see them each in a roasting rack in my oven, dripping juicy goodness into the pan.

And I dreamed of moving our dining room table into the living room in front of the fire and placing silver goblets of wine and heavy tankards of ale at each place, and...

I don't actually own any silver goblets or heavy tankards, but I imagined them just the same.

And purple cabbage and collard greens and sweet potatoes and cranberry salad.  And dogs under the table!  Flickering candlelight and ancient Christmas carols playing in the background with all my dear ones gathered round about.

Dear Baby Jesus in his manger at last.

O the giddiness, the tingling, the soaring anticipation of the Feast of Christmas!

I grew restless to begin.

So this morning Emma and I bundled up in sweaters, jackets, hats, and gloves and hurried to the farmer's market to arrange for the procurement of the desired delicacies.

First stop, the duck and goose booth.  We decided on a ten-pound goose and an eight-pound duck.  We put down a deposit and were instructed to return to the market early Christmas Eve morning to pick up the freshly-slaughtered birds.

Next we visited the pig man.  I've bought pork from him many times before but never a whole pig.  I arranged with him to pick up two suckling piggies--a 15 and a 16-pounder--at the market on Christmas Eve morning when I pick up the birds.  He said he would send me a picture of the lil porkers so I would know what to expect.  He promised to put a coin over each of their eyes because he feared I would be disturbed by their missing eyelids, which for some reason are removed during the butchering--surely a most creepy practice.

Maybe crispy-fried pig eyelids are a delicacy somewhere and they sell 'em separately to make more money!  At least they left the pigs' heads on.  I wouldn't want any headless pig.  That would ruin the whole dream for me.

Our business with the pig man completed, Emma and I sampled juicy sweet Satsumas at a booth across the way.  We bought ten, and we also bought a bag of Navel oranges from another vendor.  I plan to put some in everybody's stockings.  Then we found these delightful long and thin sausages that I thought would be great in the stockings too.  So we bought an assortment of those and added them to our bag.  We stopped at several other booths for individual little gifts.  Such great fun!

Unfortunately, we couldn't linger, as we had to hurry home to give Grandma and Grandpa lunch.   While I did that, Emma worked on decorating the rest of the gingerbread cookies she had baked for St. Nicholas Day.  Seeing her handiwork along with all the goodies we had brought home from the farmer's market made me think, "This is good.  This is very, very good."

I am looking forward to lighting the pink candle this Sunday and the fasting of the Ember Days next week.

And contemplating the fullness of time.

Come, thou long-expected Jesus!

Fixing Our Gaze on The Immaculate Conception

A most blessed Feast of the Immaculate Conception to you!

In this clip from The Song of Bernadette we see Bernadette fixing her gaze on the beautiful lady who has been appearing to her at Lourdes.  In answer to Bernadette's request to learn her identity, the lady responds, "I am the Immaculate Conception."

Watching Bernadette in the opening scene as she knelt there on the ground, I was impressed by the purity of her expression as she looked upon the most pure Virgin.  How rare it is to see that kind of innocence today!  And I thought about the Catholic concept of custody of the eyes and what a daily battle we must fight to practice it.

It's frightening, but much of what we should guard against today, we may not even be aware that we see.

Let me explain.

I just finished reading a transcript of a Solari Report podcast on entrainment technology, a form of mind control.  In it, Catherine Austin Fitts interviews Adam Trombly, a scientist/physicist, about how this technology is used and what you can do to minimize its influence on your life.

Basically, the entrainment relaxes/pleasures you and puts you in a state of openness to suggestibility.  The suggestibility part is where they implant the subliminal message they want you to act upon.  Entrainment is used surreptitiously in all kinds of media--dvd's, cd's, radio, movies in the theaters, etc., but it seems television paved the way for the others starting way back in the 1950s.

Maybe I've finally discovered why Catholics accepted the New Mass in 1969.  They had been lulled to sleep by gathering in front of the TV at home instead of kneeling in front of the Immaculate Conception and the Crucifix.

John Senior was so right when he admonished Catholics to "smash the television," in his classic book, The Restoration of Christian Culture.

Of course now the television has morphed into all kinds of different screens that we must guard ourselves and our children against.  We haven't done such a good job.  Just look at how we fell for the notion that public school children needed computers in the classroom to be able to keep up with technology and compete in the modern world.

After reading about entrainment techniques, I firmly believe that the so-called "snowflakes" are a product of it.  Previously I had thought it odd that Hillary Clinton had called on pop singers to boost her campaign.  But now I understand that their music and videos are powerful vehicles for entraining listeners.  The raw emotion from the melting snowflakes finally makes sense.  At first I thought it was all the coddling they received in school and a lack of critical thinking skills.  And, of course, a lack of the True Faith.

As I thought more about the idea of how we, like Bernadette, should "fix our gaze" on the Immaculate Conception, I became aware of the double meaning, as "fix" also means to repair.  We do need to constantly fix our gaze by avoiding as much as possible the things the world wants us to see.  And we must pray the Rosary, which Our Lady gave us as the most efficacious weapon for our battles against the world, the flesh, and the devil.

The Rosary, with its beautiful mysteries, gives us lovely pictures to contemplate and incites the imagination to holy thoughts, which makes us more human, more alive, more able to create.  All this is in direct opposition to the sounds and images that the world wants us to consume.  Look around, and you will see the results--zombie-like people who are consumers, not creators.

Interestingly, entrainment technology takes advantage of God's design for our brains.  As  Mr. Trombly explained it, "Entrainment technology basically is the technology that exploits a neurological function called frequency following response. And, frequency following response was discovered in the earlier part of the 20th century and in terms of this type of entrainment was a matter of when the brain hears a repetitive pattern.

"It can be a repetitive pattern of words, it can be a repetitive cadence of rhythm, or in modern times it can be a repetitive acoustic sound coming across the loud speaker. It can be in a certain wave form, a certain frequency, the brain will follow that sound. The brain will follow that sound whether it’s monaural or binaural or surround sound; the brain will fall into rhythm with that sound." 

My conclusion from that explanation?  

God hard-wired our brains for the recitation of the Rosary with its repetitive pattern of words and repetitive cadence or rhythm!  Without fixing our gaze on the Immaculate Conception and praying the Rosary, we leave ourselves open to conquest by the Powers of Darkness, the enemies of Christ.

Three Steps to Follow

Fix your gaze  
Pray the Rosary and
Entrain your brain to follow that sound to Heaven.

To Fast or Not to Fast, That Is the Question

Editor's Note:  Initially this post was inadvertently titled after a rock song.  About an hour after publishing, the lyrics surfaced in my brain, and I thought it better to change the title to the present one.  Happily, it is a more fitting title anyway.

After the gingerbread cookies and the chocolate of St. Nicholas Day, the complete fast of the Vigil of the Immaculate Conception:  2 snacks, 1 full meal, no meat.

And, I might add, no questions.

This past Vigil of All Saints, I realized that my two traditional Catholic calendars contradicted each other on whether to fast.  After consulting a knowledgable friend, I learned that the fast had actually been abrogated under Pope Pius XII.  So you could choose not to fast at all.

Today when I was looking at my calendar from St. Jude Shrine, my sedevacantist parish, I found a page titled "Supplement to the Instructions for Fasting and Abstinence" with all the background information to the changes that occurred under Annibale Bugnini during Pope Pius XII's reign.  Whether or not you agree with the sedevacantist position, the history is good to know.  I wish I had known it back in October.  I wouldn't have been so confused.

The last two paragraphs of the supplement page explain how the traditional fast for the Vigil of the Assumption was "transferred" (effectively abrogated) to the fast for the Vigil of the Immaculate Conception during the latter part of Pius XII's pontificate and how there never was confirmation from the Vatican on whether the obligation to fast on the Vigil of All Saints was to be lifted.

"This brief historical background serves as an introduction to the main purpose of this advisory, namely, to address the questions surrounding the abrogation of the Vigils of All Saints and the Assumption, and the suspension of the fasting and abstinence regulations for those vigils.  Both vigils were abolished in the 1950's, quite possibly as the first phase of 'change for the sake of change', engineered by the aforementioned Masonic infiltrator, Hannibal Bugnini.  When the American Bishops requested an official determination from Rome on whether the custom of fasting and abstinence on the suspended Vigil of All Saints had also been terminated, they received only a pre-printed notice, dated 15 March 1957, stating that, 'The Decree of the Sacred Congregation of Rites...looks simply to the liturgical part of the day and does not touch the obligation of fast and abstinence that are a penitential preparation for the following feast day.'  Thus, without any official confirmation from the Vatican that the disciplines associated with the Vigil of All Saints no longer applied, the US Bishops unilaterally dispensed American Catholics from those long-standing regulations.  In 1957, the power of the still-valid and legitimate American bishops to bind and loose in disciplinary matters pertaining to the faithful under their care was certainly lawful.  However, the bishops' decision to relax the vigil fast was in reaction to the first wave of Vatican innovations that would soon morph into an all-out, anti-Catholic liturgical revolution that was spring-loaded to be unleashed upon the death of Pius XII.

"Just fourteen months before the demise of that aged and ailing pontiff, the penitential custom of fasting and abstinence on the Vigil of the Assumption was also effectively abolished by its transfer to the Vigil of the Immaculate Conception, this time by official decree of the Sacred Congregation of the Council (sic) on 25 July 1957.  This unusual move seemed to contradict the Pope's prohibition against rearranging the liturgical calendar, issued by his encyclical, Mediator Dei, ten years earlier.  Nevertheless, it is beyond the scope of this brief review to provide an analysis of this legislation, or, for that matter, to challenge every alteration in discipline that was enacted during the pontificate of Pius XII.  Indeed, three of them turned out to be providential just a few years later, after the true Mass had been taken away from parish churches.  The exemption of water from the Eucharistic fast in 1953; the shortening of the Eucharistic fast from Midnight to three hours; and the simultaneous introduction of Sunday Evening Masses in 1957, made it possible for circuit-riding, Latin Mass clergy to bring valid Sacraments to remote groups of remnant faithful on Sunday nights, sometimes hundreds of miles away, after assisting their own congregations earlier in the day.  Thus the legislative revisions in the waning years of Pope Pius XII may be viewed as a 'mixed blessing', with some seemingly inspired by the Holy Ghost and others of doubtful origin.  In any case, there can be no imputation of sin to those who no longer observe the old rules for fasting and abstinence on the Vigils of All Saints and the Assumption.  The faithful who are able to continue those traditions (while retaining the practice also on the Vigil of the Immaculate Conception) are encouraged to do so, as voluntary acts of penance win greater spiritual merit than those done purely for compliance with the law.  Finally, the rules for fasting and abstinence on the Vigils of Pentecost and Christmas were not affected by the changes in question, and therefore, are still listed as obligatory by this calendar."

Goodbye Cemetery, Hello Advent

Just a few more days in the month dedicated to the Holy Souls.

We'll start the St. Andrew Christmas Novena on November 30:  You say it 15 times a day from St. Andrew's Day through Christmas Eve:

Hail and blessed be the hour and moment at which the Son of God was born of the most pure Virgin Mary, at midnight in Bethlehem in piercing cold.  In that hour vouchsafe, O my God, to hear my prayers and grant my desires (mention your request) through the merits of our Savior Jesus Christ and of His blessed Mother.  Amen.

THIS IS MY ADVENT PICTURE

I know.  A kitten getting a flea bath is not your normal idea of Advent symbolism, but that is the way my mind works.  Make straight the way of the Lord!  Hair shirts and locusts and honey.  Flea bath.  Same thing.  Advent is supposed to be a little bit uncomfortable, right?

Wishing you much spiritual progress on your Advent journey.

In the Cemetery

For  the last four years or so, Emma and I have gone to pray the rosary in the small Catholic cemetery nearest our house every day during November.  It belongs to a rural parish that was established early in the 20th century by people of Czech descent.  We can see the tiny brick church across the hay fields to the west of us as we walk and pray.

We have grown to cherish our time in the cemetery each year.  It is so peaceful there, and often a refreshing breeze washes over us as the setting sun glints golden on the surrounding fields.  Here we have the comfort of the community of the dead, many of whom died before Vatican II and so professed the same Faith as we do.  We love reading the Old Country names.  I am particularly fond of "Frantiska" and "Zofie".  

Along with the joy we experience in the cemetery, we feel keenly the sharp stab of exile.  We gaze with longing at the little church and wish that we could go to mass so close to our house.  To be able to go to daily mass and rosary--what bliss!  We have driven 2 hours roundtrip on Sundays for the last 12 years to be able to assist at the traditional mass.   In desperation several years ago we tried going to mass at the little brick church.  We hungered for Catholic community--to live our faith daily among those who shared it.  The experience was so shocking that we never returned.  That novus ordo mass sharply illuminated for me how formative the traditional mass is.  Ever since, whenever I remember our experience, the word "hootenanny" pops into my mind.  It's far more accurate than "lack of reverence."

I firmly believe the old dead at the cemetery would feel the same way we did if they were allowed to return to their little brick church.

Happily, on All Souls Day, we met an older couple at the cemetery who belong to the parish.  Emma asked them if they would like to join us in praying the rosary, and they agreed.  So most days this month they have met us there, and we have walked and prayed through the cemetery together.  It has been truly lovely to have their company.

From them we learned that there is a new Polish pastor and that he asked the parishioners if the old altar and altar rails were stored somewhere--a hopeful sign.  Sadly, these fixtures, along with many beloved statues, were shipped off to Mexico after the new mass was introduced in 1969.

Our rosary companions told us that one parishioner managed to save the large Sacred Heart of Jesus statue that used to stand at the front of the church on the epistle side.  He carried it home and has kept it ever since.  Now he is quite elderly, and rumor has it that he is wondering if it is safe to bring it back. But the "praise band" now occupies the spot where the Sacred Heart used to stand.  I thought about how that displacement was true on so many levels in the novus ordo.  The day we learned this story, we added to our rosary the intention that the Sacred Heart statue be returned to its rightful place and that the "choir" would return to the long-vacant choir loft.

Let us pray hard for the restoration of the Church.

The Ascension: Accent the Octave

One of the things I am learning about the Liturgical Year is that prior to 1955, the Church celebrated many more octaves than it does now.  As a procrastinator, this has been an exciting revelation to me, because now I have more opportunities to actually do something special if the feast sneaks up on me, which it so often does.

So today, the Octave of the Ascension, I am baking Cloud Bread and Lighter Than Air Chocolate Cake--flourless paleo recipes--and planning a picnic.   I will use the Cloud Bread for sandwiches.  I am going to make the cake recipe into cupcakes because they bake in less time, and I can skip lining four cake pans with parchment paper.  Plus cupcakes are more portable for a picnic, even though it will just be on the back patio.   The cake recipe can also be adapted for dairy-free by substituting coconut cream in the frosting.

Celebrating St. Lucy Grain-free

The top roll has glaze.  I decided to wait on icing the others until I could do some taste-testing with Emma.

Emma and I just finished eating almond flour cinnamon rolls that I baked for St. Lucy's feast.  I definitely need more practice at this recipe from The Urban Poser, but it shows good promise.  Or maybe I show promise as a baker of almond flour goods.  That's probably more accurate, as the problems were caused by operator error.  :)

The main problem was that I should have rolled the dough out into a thinner rectangle.  If I had done that, I think I could have rolled it up into a tighter log for slicing, which would have prevented the second problem of the individual rolls falling apart.   On second thought, this may have been caused by my inability to follow the "less is more" philosophy.  I could not stop myself from loading the dough with raisins and nuts.  I totally disregarded the amounts called for and just plastered the dough until I basically could not see it anymore. Last of all, they probably should have baked longer, but with almond flour's tendency to burn, I opted for doughy.  Also, Emma was in a hurry to leave to go spend the day with a friend from church who has three little girls and is now expecting twins.

Despite all the issues, they tasted pretty good, and we had managed to fittingly celebrate the Liturgical year with a grain-free feast.

Well, I just went back and nibbled on one of the rolls.  I think they taste even better now that they are cold.  The texture has improved too.  They are not doughy after all--quite nice, actually.

While I was baking the cinnamon rolls, I re-heated Mexican hot chocolate on the stove that Emma made yesterday for the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe.  She followed a paleo recipe that used coconut milk.  When the rolls were ready, Emma poured us each a cup of the thick chocolate and scooped a dollop of whipped cream on top of each.  She took a sip and complained that it burned her throat.  I've noticed that both of my children are more sensitive to heat than I am, so I didn't think anything of it.  Then I took my first sip and squealed.  That chocolate burned the roof of my mouth and all the way down my throat!  I don't know if it held the heat more because it was so thick or because that is some mysterious property of coconut milk, but boy, that was a surprise.

Here's a what we did for Our Lady of Guadalupe.  We never got to any particular food, though I did add Mexican spices to the sausage, potato, egg, and cheese "scramble" I made for brunch.

I had planned to use this Mexican chocolate (in the yellow box), but Emma found a different recipe that she wanted to try, which used regular cocoa.

It really helped pull it all together when Emma added her little bouquet of  flowers that you see in the picture above.

I'm off to take a Christmas bow and package class.  I hope I pass!

Those Green Bean Times

I cringed when I looked at the date of my last post.  Sept. 24th!  Oh, my goodness!

September seems soooo long ago.  I remember vaguely that time as one of making a grand attempt at getting a lot of canning done.  Oh, and I had started an online canning course, which I have also, like blogging, let totally fall by the wayside.

The canning did not go well.  I blame it on my stove--my stupid, modern stove with the smooth ceramic top, which absolutely refuses to respond in a timely manner to my instructions.  This obstinance caused wild pressure swings in the canner, which in turn caused the dreaded "siphoning", a process by which some of the contents of the jars is sucked out into the canner.  I persisted anyway and canned a quantity of chili and green beans.  By some miracle, most of them sealed despite the siphoning problem.    The ones that didn't I just refrigerated.

I have an especially fond memory of getting the green beans ready to process.  I had about 15 pounds to snap.  Emma and I divided them up into our 13-quart stainless steel bowls.  It was a gorgeous fall day--cool and crisp.  We threw the windows and doors open, and as we sat on the couch with our green bean bounty, we chatted and snapped and listened to the chimes and the gentle burbling of chickens at work near the back door.  The breeze washed over us like baptismal water, renewing us.  It was an extremely satisfying interlude, one of those rare instances where you feel like everything is rightly ordered, almost like a prayer.

I wonder about those green bean times and how you go about getting more of them and less of the pressure canner ones?  How do you live your life as a prayer?  And is it possible *for me* while being a "friend" on Facebook?  Or using an iPhone?  I've been thinking a lot about that lately.  While I have been away from my cozy little blog living room, I have been camped out alongside the rushing torrent that is Facebook Falls, watching the good, the true, and the beautiful wash by, along with some raw sewage.  Blogging is certainly not ideal, but for now, I am going to spend a lot less time on Facebook and more time here.  Especially with Advent beginning in just a few days, my soul yearns for more quiet: less "likes" and more one-on-one, heart-to-heart communication.  Real friendship in Christ.  I am not expecting that I will get that by blogging, but writing here is a more contemplative activity than posting on Facebook.  I think I may grow to be a better friend here.

A Pilgrimage and a Procession: The Cabalgata of Christ the King

I never fail to be inspired by Catholic men making an exterior act of faith.

Via Tradition in Action: "From throughout the State of Guanajuato - as well as many other states of Mexico and the U.S. - the pilgrims meet two days before Epiphany to ride together on pilgrimage to honor Christ the King."  Read the entire post HERE.

Sing of Mary

Since it is the Feast of the Immaculate Heart of Mary I wanted to share this video of Biebl's "Ave Maria".  It is more than the "Ave Maria", it is the Angelus at its most beautiful.   (It doesn't include the closing prayer, though.)


Emma and I have been working on learning more prayers in Latin.  Singing them makes it so much easier for me.  I just don't memorize things as easily as I used to.  I was thrilled when she found this video, because I can sing along and see the music at the same time, pray, and work on memorization.  It is the ultimate in Catholic multi-tasking.  Oh, and those who sing pray twice, so I am getting an even greater return on my efforts!

I titled this post, "Sing of Mary" which is the title of one of the first Marian hymns I learned after I converted in my 30s.  It is one of my favorites.  Here are the lyrics:


Sing of Mary

Sing of Mary, pure and lowly,
Virgin mother undefiled, 
Sing of God's own Son most holy,
Who became her little child.
Fairest child of fairest mother,
God the Lord who came to earth,
Word made flesh, our very brother,
Takes our nature by his birth.

Sing of Jesus, son of Mary,
In the home at Nazareth.
Toil and labour cannot weary 
Love enduring unto death.
Constant was the love he gave her,
Though he went forth from her side,
Forth to preach, and heal, and suffer,
Till on Calvary he died.

Glory be to God the Father;
Glory be to God the Son;
Glory be to God the Spirit;
Glory to the Three in One.
From the heart of blessed Mary,
From all saints the song ascends,
And the Church the strain reechoes
Unto earth's remotest ends.

Fun with Popovers

I've been wanting to try the popover recipe on the back of the King Arthur's gluten-free all-purpose flour. I finally did last week.  They baked perfectly, but, perplexingly, these popovers would not pop out of the pan.  I had prepared the pan with palm oil.  I don't know if that was the problem, but next time I will try coconut oil.  Anyway, removing the popovers turned into an operation where the surgery was a success, but the patient died.  I managed to rip the bottoms off of most of them.  I was holding one in my hand and mourning its destruction when I realized, "Hey, I have created a bowl!  Yippee!"  I hurried to the stove where I had just finished cooking sausage and making gravy.  I scooped up a sausage patty, dropped it neatly into the popover and then drenched it in gravy.  Ahhhh!  So delicious and filling and comforting.  Later that afternoon I was reading Catholic Cuisine's post about Pope St. Gregory eating cherries on the feast of St. Mark, and I had another brilliant idea.  Two in one day!  Woo-hoo!  I filled two popovers with creme fraiche and cherry preserves.  I took them to Emma's room, and we sat on her bed and gobbled them up.  Between mouthfuls, I related the story from Catholic Cuisine.  Suddenly, I realized I had now made Pope-overs!  Wow!  I'm so awesome!

The Good Friday Bad Scare

I don't have a Lenten picture of the church, so this will have to do.

One of the first things that Fr. Zendejas did when he became pastor of Queen of Angels was to remove the crucifix from a fixed position on the wall above the altar.  He had it suspended by two chains high above the sanctuary, near the altar rail.  This was a first but necessary step in a long-term renovation.  However, it caused quite a bit of tension last Friday when it came time to take off the purple fabric that covers it from Passion Sunday to Good Friday.

A cord or strip of fabric dangled into the sanctuary from the covering above.  When the time came in the liturgy for Father to remove it, he gently pulled the cord.  Nothing happened.  He tried again.  Still, the covering clung.  He changed positions and pulled harder.  The crucifix lurched. I could feel the tension in the lady to my left, who was now sitting bolt upright as the purple-covered crucifix moved in the air.  Undaunted, Father jerked the cord.  The fabric fell away revealing our bloodied Savior swinging wildly from the rafters.  I gasped.  The traumatized lady next to me whispered. . .


 "Je-sus".

I Finally Updated the "My Parish" Page; Includes Holy Week Schedule

Anyone who wants to go to Mass at Queen of Angels in Dickinson, TX, this Palm Sunday should note that there will be Solemn Blessing of the Palms and a procession at 8:30 a.m., and High Mass will begin early, approximately 9:40.  The Low Mass is as usual, 7:30 a.m.

Raw Milk Cure 2012: Day 5

I felt good all day.  I am still struggling with my coffee demon.  I made myself drink a pint of water before I could have coffee, and for the last few days I have been making myself stop drinking it before my cup is empty.  Apparently my struggles have caused old Folger's and Maxwell House jingles to come to the forefront of my memory.  Off and on all day, I would hear, "The best part of waking up is Folger's in your cup" and "Good to the last drop".  Once again I was struck by how American advertising is so antithetical to Catholic ideals.  The marketers want us to focus on consumption instead of denying ourselves.  We worship comfort and are willing to wear the ugliest clothes in the history of the world in order to meet its demands.  I think about all the saints who wore hair shirts  under their clothes, especially St. Thomas More, since he was a family man and lawyer, not a hermit.  I dislike that my memory is poisoned with all these ads.  I wish that this raw milk cure could dislodge them and flush them out like all the other toxins, as it occurs to me that Satan is tempting us just like he did Jesus in the desert, but he has gone high-tech and glossy.    Get thee behind me, Satan!

I ordered three packages of kefir grains from Cultures for Health.  I am going to make a quart of kefir every day: one for me, one for Emma, and one for my parents.  I have made kefir before but only with the powder.  Once I read how you can keep re-using the grains, I knew I had to switch.  It doesn't sound like the grains replicate like Kombucha starter, so that is why I bought three.  I want to make and consume a lot.  I would like to switch to a kefir/Kombucha fast after this milk fast is over  I was tempted to order Cultures for Health's gluten-free sourdough bread starter, but I decided to wait because on Saturday I mailed my order for a Kombucha starter kit from Laurel's Farm.  I figured that is enough culturing to take on for the moment.

I have not felt weak at all during this fast, but yesterday I noticed an increase of energy, and my vision seems clearer.    Normally I don't drink milk after 6 p.m. or so, but last night I did get hungry around 9:30, so I drank a pint of milk and went to bed.  That made a total of 2 1/2 quarts.  I slept well.

Emma read about the benefits of sunning your belly on The Healthy Home Economist, so yesterday we spent some time sprawled on the grass in the sun so she could do that.  Cotton took a break from bird hunting to rub my face and whisper sweet mews in my ear.  I didn't feel much like sunning; I really wanted to move, so I got up and made a brisk walk to the mailbox and then went inside to work on some spring cleaning.  This belly sunning is supposed to be good for babies in utero, so I know that Emma is going to want to do it when she gets pregnant.  I delighted myself for a couple of minutes this morning, imagining her future husband's quest.  How will he solve the dilemma of accommodating Emma's overwhelming desire for modesty with her overwhelming determination to sacrifice for baby's health?  I can see him driving her into the country to find a safe and secluded sunning spot for his little turtle, somewhere where she can be the only turtle on the log.  And of course there will be a picnic with Kombucha and cod liver oil and grassfed calf's liver.

Emma wants to start eating again, as she is finding it harder and harder to keep drinking the milk, so much so that she is going hungry.  I think she is down to a quart a day.  This is not good for her adrenal or thyroid function.  I suggested that she go ahead and eat, but as of last night she was still resisting.  She found a tip in a book she is reading about raw milk fasts that said if you have problems with queasiness, which we both have had, you should drink lemon juice.  I can't remember the particulars now.  I'll find out and post an update.

Joining The Milk Cure 2012 and a Fiona Update

Emma and Fiona enjoying the lush Spring grass yesterday evening

Today is the first day of the Milk Cure.  Emma and I are both doing it for our Lenten fast.  We practiced this week by drinking mostly raw milk, raw kefir,  and kombucha.  Ginger kombucha mixed half and half with kefir is tasty and refreshing.  We ate one meal with meat at suppertime.

Read about The Milk Cure 2012 here.  It's a 10-day RAW milk fast being organized by The Healthy Home Economist.  Make sure and read all the links, especially the inspiring story of the woman who is healing herself of Lyme Disease with a raw milk diet--100 days so far!

I am going to add another picture or two later.  My internet is super slow right now, and it is taking too long to add each one.  But just look at the grass in the one above.  It's a fabulous time for raw milk here in southeast Texas.  We have had lots of rain.  Fiona is loving having some juicy grazing after the horrible drought we had last year.  I'm sure her calf is loving it too.  I think it should be gaining close to a pound a day at this point.

We don't know exactly when she is due, but her bag is filling out, so we are guessing that within six weeks she will calve.  We will be so grateful to have our own milk supply again: I am having to drive to Winnie, TX, to buy raw milk from Pure Milk Farms.  It's really good.  We are especially excited about the prospect of a calf to keep Fiona company.  She ran off again last week to hang out with some horses down the road.  This time she escaped because a ground wire broke on her electric fence.  We have three strands of wire.  One day as we were driving home from a restaurant, my husband pointed out to me a herd of huge beef cattle.  Then he had me notice their fencing.  They were kept in their pasture by a single wire.  Hmph.


  

Saint Josephine Bakhita on Forgiving and Forgetting

I am just learning about St. Bakhita, a former slave whose feast day is today.  She was canonized in 2000 by Pope John Paul II.  Fr. Mark's post that I excerpted below served as my introduction to her.    I am happy that she has come to my attention now to encourage me in my determination to forgive and forget.  According to this Wikipedia article, while a slave, St. Bakhita suffered cruelties regularly.  But her most terrifying memories were from the time she had a 114 designs carved into her body and then filled with salt to ensure scarring.  This was done by a woman while Bakhita's mistress watched with a whip in her hand.

Here is the aforementioned excerpt from Fr. Mark's post, "A Saint for Those Who are Prisoners of the Past", with thanks to Mary-Eileen Russell for bringing it to my attention.  Do follow the link and read the whole thing if you have time.

No Trace of Bitterness

Mother Josephine Bakhita served her Master for almost fifty years. The Collect speaks of her following Jesus the Crucified Lord with unremitting love. In charity, it says, she persevered in a ready mercy. This is the miracle of Saint Bakhita. There was no trace of bitterness in her. The cruel degradations and unspeakable moral outrages suffered as a slave, though never forgotten, had no hold on her. She to whom men had refused mercy persevered to the end in a ready mercy for others. She was not a prisoner of her past. We who are so often prisoners of the past, unable to let go, unable to forgive, unable to move beyond old hurts, do well today to seek her intercession.

Set Free by Love

Looking to the future does not mean forgetting the past; it means transfiguring it. It means re-reading it with eyes of mercy in the light of faith. We need not remain slaves of our own histories, chained to the evil things, the hurtful things, the unjust things that happened ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty, or seventy-five years ago. There is another way: the way of those set free by love.

Christ Rules

Heaven Helps Me

Two or three years ago I learned about this book called Edible Landscaping.  I ordered myself a copy and carried it around with me in the car so I could read it whenever I had to sit and wait for something like a doctor's appointment or a music lesson.  I had barely dug into the book when it disappeared.  I waited so long for it to turn up that I forgot about it.  Probably this could have been avoided if I had thought to pray to St. Anthony.  Coming to Catholicism in my mid-30s, somehow I never developed that habit.  I am going to work on that, as I am now 51 and find my old excuse looks a little feeble.

Between the chickens and the drought, the few vegetables we attempted to grow this past summer produced nothing but blooms.  Then in August, I had Nathaniel till up the flower bed that borders our front porch.  I had intended to plant azaleas and gardenias there as soon as we got some rain and the weather cooled down.  That didn't happen in September.  Low and behold, a few weeks ago I noticed a volunteer plant flourishing there.  Now it is covered in yellow blossoms and looks lovely.

It's a squash.

This must be a magical squash, because it talks to me.  Every time I see it, it says, "Remember Edible Landscaping?"

"Yes," I answer.  "I'm going to order a new copy."

Well, this morning, I finally remembered to do it.  I ordered a shiny new 2010 edition from Amazon.  Then I thought, "Hey, isn't this St. Isidore the Farmer's feast day?"  I checked, and it is.  Hmmm.

I think he and St. Anthony are in cahoots.

Fight Courageously Under the Banner of Christ Your King

Even though I try to avoid it, I still hear bits of the garbage that is known as modern political debate, which as far as I can see is designed to distract us and prevent us from seeking a solution outside of the tiny, two-party box.  As longtime readers know, I quit voting after the last presidential election.  Even then, I only voted because I could vote with a clear conscience for Ron Paul.  I had long before that refused to vote for the lesser of two evils, as the lesser evil is still evil.  I see no major difference between a Democratic presidential term and a Republican presidential term.  They each work to move the country further to the left, though their respective approaches may be slightly different.  The only solution I see is to work toward the reign of Christ the King, which Catholics are called to do anyway.  I can do that with a clear conscience and without being in conflict with my role as the heart of the home. 


Angelus Press recently hosted a 3-day conference on Christ's Kingship.  Read about it here.

As the feast of the Kingship of Christ approaches, it is good to re-read Quas primas, the encyclical Pope Pius XI wrote that established it.  Here is an excerpt that I find especially helpful:

The rebellion of individuals and states against the authority of Christ has produced deplorable consequences. We lamented these in the Encyclical Ubi arcano; we lament them today: the seeds of discord sown far and wide; those bitter enmities and rivalries between nations, which still hinder so much the cause of peace; that insatiable greed which is so often hidden under a pretense of public spirit and patriotism, and gives rise to so many private quarrels; a blind and immoderate selfishness, making men seek nothing but their own comfort and advantage, and measure everything by these; no peace in the home, because men have forgotten or neglect their duty; the unity and stability of the family undermined; society in a word, shaken to its foundations and on the way to ruin. We firmly hope, however, that the feast of the Kingship of Christ, which in future will be yearly observed, may hasten the return of society to our loving Savior. It would be the duty of Catholics to do all they can to bring about this happy result. Many of these, however, have neither the station in society nor the authority which should belong to those who bear the torch of truth. This state of things may perhaps be attributed to a certain slowness and timidity in good people, who are reluctant to engage in conflict or oppose but a weak resistance; thus the enemies of the Church become bolder in their attacks. But if the faithful were generally to understand that it behooves them ever to fight courageously under the banner of Christ their King, then, fired with apostolic zeal, they would strive to win over to their Lord those hearts that are bitter and estranged from him, and would valiantly defend his rights.