Addio Archbishop Edwin O'brien

Baltimore Archbishop Edwin O'brien

Our good Archbishop Edwin O'brien has been appointed grand master of the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, and will be leaving for Rome immediately.  We in the Archdiocese of Baltimore are very happy for our shepherd and wish him every blessing in his new appointment.

 

Archbishop O'brien will be responsible for this ancient lay Catholic order whose goal is to promote and defend Christianity in the Holy Land.  Among other works of mercy, the order funds 40 schools, hospitals and the University of Bethlehem.  There are 18,000 members worldwide.  Archbishop O'brien will reside in Vatican City and make visits to the Holy Land and the order's other lieutenancies located throughout the world....AND he will receive the red hat at the next consistory!  We will be pleased indeed to call him Cardinal O'brien.

 

The Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem was founded at the end of the 11th century to protect Christian pilgrims in the Holy Land.  It's previous grand master, Cardinal John Patrick Foley, who resigned this year due to poor health (leukemia), is residing now in the Archdiocese of Philadelphia.  Please join us and remember this good Cardinal in your prayers as well as our Archbishop O'brien as he travels and moves into his new post. Addio, our good Archbishop!

 

Irene and St. Monica

Bracing for Irene - all those living aboard flee.

The Chesapeake Bay Bridge is invisible in the background.

Irene came, lingered over 24 hours, then terrorized the rest of the east coast.  Had she come up the Chesapeake Bay as Isabel did in 2003, I would have seen a much bigger show.  It was called:  a rain and wind event.   Right now,  I'm already writing and half of my family is still powerless (cough) and 250,000 are also in the dark on day four.   I am truly sorry  for the folks in Vermont (they got our Isabel) and everyone who has suffered loss. (I haven't seen coverage of what happened in New York yet.)  I DID see a show, though, and it WAS fabulous, but it all happened at night so I got few pictures.  I did get this one at dawn (from my balcony, not the asylum).

Notice low tide when it was supposed to be high tide/flooding. You can see the bottom of the Bay.  Irene pushed the water out.  The changes in the water were awesome (and I never use that word).

The night was very exciting to watch from whichever window wasn't being pelted by rain.  I stayed up almost all night watching black waters and huge trees wildly dancing in the night.  They swayed together, sparkling and glistening; they looked like an old-fashioned sonogram picture of an unborn child without the child.   I could picture one of the tree-sized branches snapping off, flying through the air like a scene from The Wizard of Oz, and impaling me right in my own bed.  I thought, Irene is coming up the Bay, I know the Bay is right out there, that-a-way...   So I slept in the living room where the trees seemed farther away.  (Although I watched the trees from there too!  The outside walls of my little home are almost entirely glass and surrounded by trees.)  I had television, light, and the WWW!  I knew many were in the dark.   I knew prayers were being said all over the world (and by special friends and fiends)  for those of us in Irene's path and I asked St. Monica, whose feast we were celebrating, for her intercession. HA!  WHAT a deal! Prayer IS the way to go. +

I did not lose my power until 7:30 a.m., after the worst was over, (no scardy-cat crap for ME in the dark!) and,  the only two trees which fell on the large property my apartment is on, were two; one on each SIDE of my building.  (This has provided a few of my neighbors with a better water view!)  My many flowers in boxes and pots on my balcony survived minus a few injuries (they were hidden and sheltered in a corner.  My one(!) "Four-O'Clock" seed that sprouted(!)  this spring and grew to a 3-foot plant ready to bloom (and couldn't be moved but was just pelted all night) looks anorexic but I will see a tiny bud or two bloom.   The devastation we anticipated, or at least major flooding, never happened.  The water went out to the sea to visit NYC.   The usual storm mess was around my neighborhood, while others suffered complete losses.  Trees shut down streets and Historic Annapolis was without power right along with the rest of us. There was no flooding and a heavy rain usually floods City Dock.  The local radio station which broadcasts from Main Street ran on a generator and the DJ-babe  read by candlelight.  

The other personal favors I obtained are too numerous to list and too mysterious to try to convey.  Our dear Maryland saw relatively minor damage compared to Isabel (which DID come right up the Chesapeake Bay).  Sadly, we lost one elderly Marylander to the storm...MY brain has a hard time processing these types of freak accidents.  I'm sure everyone in Irene's path received the prayers of all who had been with her before.  I am grateful for them and especially for all my friends who were praying for me.  How blessed I am that my friends are not crappy pray-ers.  I am just now seeing the coverage of the rest of the storm.  It is all very sad.  My prayers will stay with everyone who is still suffering.

I noticed after the storm that I only heard the cicadas after the sun came out and then sporadically.  I was laughing to myself about the "bigwig/noisy/menacing cicadas (yep, was).  Now they sounded like they were all chirp and no....well.      I thought Irene had wiped them out; the air was so silent.   It was many hours before their constant whizzing would fill the air again.  The ducks came back after awhile too.  The first one waited a long time for the badling to return. (Yes, I said badling.)

The boaters came to unbatten their hatches and the "live-aboards" slowly returned.

This was the breathtaking morning after, with the Chesapeake Bay Bridge loyally standing...still.  The mornings' colors never disappoint.

  This day the air was cool and it smelled like a new spring day on the Bay. There is no sweeter smell on the earth. Our God reigns. +

Loving Natural Disasters

Well thank goodness for the movies, right?  Sometimes they just make you feel better about yourself; you leave feeling less of a freak.  I am reminded of this odd fact as I prepare for Hurricane Irene. (and as I ponder our recent earthquake.)  Why do I love natural disasters?  Near, far, I am fascinated by them.  I am all about the news and the weather, etc., when any good calamity is upon us.  Maybe it is because I grew up in Kansas with the excitement of all the neighborhood kids being called in by mothers to hide out tornadoes in the basement.  Perhaps it is because they divert me from my own mind's merry-go-round.

Jennifer Garner in the movie Catch and Release had a similar declaration in a dinnertime scene.  Her character was admitting deep, dark secrets to her dining companions (some too R rated for tender ears), including being able to put her entire fist in her mouth and loving natural disasters.  It was during this dialogue that I realized I wasn't the only one with a seemingly "wrong" thought-pattern. Phew.  OF COURSE I'M NOT THE ONLY ONE. Why don't we like to admit these things?  We all trot, trot, trot along thinking we are the only one?  How many of us are so "disturbed"?

So, on the one hand, as I prepare for Miss Irene, a little worried, a little frantic, I am at the same time excited and exhilarated.  Okay, at least I am animated....and....functioning...not happy or elated.  At least I know I'm not the only one.  Neighbors and family members have been reacting in varied ways.  As of yesterday most were in denial, still.  We have seen too many storms turn off the projected course and folks worried for nothing.  Still, oil lamps were hard to find, grocery stores were packed, generators were selling out and boatyards were warning customers not to wait until the last minute to ask for their boats to be pulled out of the water.  Sandbags are filling historic Annapolis.

Hurricane Isabel - 2003 - Alex Haley Memorial/City Dock

Today my son will have to leave Ocean City because of mandatory evacuations.  Hurricane trackers are showing the storm coming right up the Chesapeake Bay.  This is what Isabel did in 2003.  The aftermath was not a pretty picture.  Today will be the day everyone north of North Carolina will take Miss Irene seriously.  Time will tell and I will keep functioning (somewhat) and getting the deal done.  I am anticipating heavy winds and power loss so will fill the bathtub with water, turn the a/c down to 60, move flowers to safe place on balcony, line up flashlights, oil lamps, matches, candles, and fill the freezer with water bottles.  Today I hope to find a battery radio so the noise in my mind can be distracted.

I will be praying for everyone, especially the poor and homeless.  I will be worrying about these guys who live on the water.  I hope they leave.  I am preparing for hot cocoa and internet withdrawals and hoping I don't have to leave my little home.  Say a prayer and watch the news for me flyin' off my balcony.......and we LIKED it.

The Sadness of Being

How do you describe depression?

50 and Fabulous

My high school classmates are having a party in October to celebrate turning 50 years old. (We are a group of two classes, so my class had to wait for the punks to turn 50...alas, I just turned 51.)   This is madness to me but everyone who is going is so excited; white, straight teeth, glistening smiles....such young-looking Facebook photos of all the alumni...chattering about yet another gathering of the Arundel faithful.  I am really not one of these faithful ones, but a fraud just horning my way in....
(horning, because I moved here from Minnesota in my Junior year and graduated early, with few friends in high school, really)

Two years ago I added my maiden name (adoptive family) to my FB page and, POOF, I re-connected with many high school friends.  It was fun!  I even went to my class reunion and had a grand time with only 75% social anxiety, paranoia, fear, self-consciousness, dread.  Friends I hadn't seen in 30 years thought I was normal,  I could have skated...)  Since then a hard-core group has been meeting throughout the years and having a fabulous time.  I never go.  Most days I am 100% social anxiety, paranoia, blah, blah, blah.

So now, the beautiful high school/Facebook people will gather, smile, hug, smooch, laugh,  drink....but no dancing.  I wonder why the no dancing thing?  We were a pretty cool group, the class of '78.  We liked Led Zeppelin, our bell bottoms covering our shoes, getting high (oops, some of us) before school, and we did NOT dance.  We. Were. Cool.

I think we don't dance now, because the men would have to admit that the One whom they once thought unworthy to gaze upon is now a pulp fiction, flying Hero.  That the "girl group" is THE key to a girl's heart.  I think the boys don't want to dance, because, their wives are at home and they promised they wouldn't.  Or maybe the beautiful high school men people deep down are afraid they will dance like dorks.  Well, maybe the class of '79.

You should be dancin', yeah.

 for shari g.

Thailand's New Birth

It is the Lord's Day!  Resting and keeping it holy, I hope.  And look what I found today as I'm sure you did as well.  Thai believers getting in pretty boxes, flowers in hand, to lose their bad luck and be re-born.  So, there you go.  (((Yay)))

I am still so sad about dear,  Steve+.  I hope his sadness is gone.  Sometimes joy in the Resurrection is very quiet and calm. I am coveting prayers for him and his family. +JMJ+

finding time for silence today

Hot Cocoa in August

Sometimes the goal is just get that momentary piece of comfort.  Peace.  Even the physical feeling of "well-being".  Sometimes I even reach my goal but it is unlikely of my own doing.  That is except in the case of hot cocoa.  One day last winter I decided my hot cocoa moments were very soothing and pleasant.  I decided to keep stocked, with a close eye on the supply, as I had once done with vodka.  I heard long ago that studies showed smokers suffered from Alzheimer's less often than non-smokers.  I decided this was because of the always-alert mentality which causes one to keep track of where one's cigarettes are and when supplies will run out. Keepin' it sharp!  So it is summer-time now and I am still getting my comfort from hot cocoa, and keepin' a close eye on it, too.

As I write this I am thinking it all may just be in my head (i often think this about many topics).  Aha!  So this is my position of comfort:  hot cocoa beside me, cool bay breeze,  cicadas chirping in unending harmonies and echoes, ducks swimming smoothly past my balcony, kayakery happenin' on de Back Creek, and I hear the hootin' and a hollerin' from the Naval Academy boys and girls PT time echo across the bay.  In the background I hear Sirius Radio's 70's singing.   I feel peaceful, comfortable and even have a physical sense of well-being.  (Wow, I am thinking, the goal is reached.)  Even sophomoric monkey wrenches in the back of my mind from last night are completely calmed.  It is a fine Saturday morning, indeed.

I have not completely lost my mind (((!))) thinking that I have the magic hot cocoa, or the cure for the blues (I already know the cure:  i could puke myself to death like dear Karen Carpenter)(for example),  or have crossed over into happyville, or anything.  But, POOF!  It has come....to me....... peace, calm...

And then, just as quickly all is lost, as the husband is calling from parking lot wanting to be let in...

Our Kids are Killing Themselves!

I remember saying these horror-filled words to a friend of mine over ten years ago.  A second friend of my sons' had taken his own life.  It had only been six months since dear, sweet, troubled Mark had used a gun to end his torment.  Now another teenager had jumped off a bridge.  On this morning in March my living room was full of young men in suits, quietly sitting and waiting to leave for the funeral of this honor student and friend.  The phone rang and I learned my own adoptive father had died after battling cancer for a year.  In retrospect I see this as the time that my own depression changed from a small battle of the mind to a full war...body, soul and mind.  The effect of these two young men taking themselves from the earth on their friends was profound.  Some became stronger, some cynical.  A few, I know, have severe drug problems, even now, ten years later.

Yesterday I learned the horrible happened again.  This time it is my youngest son's friend.  Again, as a mother, I am in anguish.  Our children are killing themselves!  It sounds so harsh.  It is.  I really have no words to express my emotions.  The face of my own child reveals the sorrow in my heart.  My own son's eyes cause the blood to drip from my heart... thoughts of Steve's mother.....my thoughts of Steve.

The memories I have of Steve are few but they flash across my mind like lasers, bobbing past so quickly I can't focus.  I remember things I said to him, to see if he would talk, or smile.  It makes me very sad.  I remember my own young friends' funerals in the 1970's.  Most died of overdoses.  I was a very young "wet behind the ears" druggie.  I did learn, during this time, about "when to stop."  I wonder what my sons have learned seeing what they have seen.  I don't even like repeating what has happened again.

I stared for a long time at Steve's Facebook photo.  He had recently changed it.  He looked as if he knew what he was planning to do.  He looked sad. Resolute.   He had listed a friend as a brother.  He had photos of happy times posted.  A dear young friend of his, and mine, left a message which said:  Well, you changed the world now.   And he has.

I hope I have an opportunity to discuss the Communion of Saints with my dear, sorrowful son.  I will ask this of the Lord.  I am comforted to pray for Steve and ask him to help us now.  I know he holds a special place in the hearts of Jesus and Mary.  I hope he knows he holds a special place in mine.  I am praying as well for eyes and heart open to learn what I should be learning now, through another tragedy.  So far I know I should be praying constantly for everyone going through such horrors.  Off I go. 

For Steve

May 25, 1991-August 13, 2011

+JMJ+

PIERS MORGAN/CHRISTINE O'DONNELL RANT - August 17, 2011

I do not have a dog in their fight.
But I want her to answer.  Why not?
Watch out:  Coward Selling Books.

Just sayin'

The Mental Perp Walk

I wish today was a day when I could fondly remember the old mental perp walk I used to do in my mind daily. Sometimes hourly.  I wish it was a thing of long ago, like vodka for breakfast.  It's pleasant to recall something very bad from the past when you have gotten a point for banishing it from your life.  But, alas, today is still a very present bad day where the merry-go-round will just not take a stop in my poor brain.

The "perp walk," describes a common custom in our neck of the world, where an arrested suspect is paraded around town so the press can take pictures and videotape the event.  Why?  Yes, why?  Why do I keep having my own mental perp walks?  I hear they are a symptom of depression.  They make "us" even more depressed.  We don't choose to take them, they just invade us and take us along. 

It is at this point that I consider sharing an example of my own inner merry-go-round mental perp walk, but I am absolutely hesitant. Of course I am!  This is exactly the place I cannot let you see.  (This is where the paranoia comes in.)  You will analyze me, judge me, label me and perhaps even have those guys in the white jackets come and take me away (ho ho ha ha he he).   So I will stay inside my depressed, dark place without you (believe me, you don't want to see), and wonder -when I have a minute- if the stigma would be less if Tipper Gore had been our First Lady.....

Modesty and Respect

I'm sure I will write more on this subject in the future as it has been a favorite subject of mine for around 30 years.  I wrote an article for Life Advocate magazine partially on the subject in 1991.  The timely good news about Archbishop Jose Martin-Rabago of Leon, Mexico, recently asking Catholics and all Christians to have respect for (a church) and dress appropriately, has filled me with, well, glee.   He specified as inappropriate attire mini skirts, sleeveless shirts and low-cut blouses for women and shorts and sandals for men.  He said it was about "respecting God's house" and not about "a misogynist attitude of any sort...simply asking for the dignity and decorum that this place calls for, that is all."  The Vatican already endorses a strict dress code.

This is fine news indeed on a coolish summer day on the Chesapeake Bay.  I ponder what I have seen in my own parishes throughout my 16 years as a Catholic.   Some women have shocked me.  Some men have embarrassed me.  One day in our little 24/7 Adoration Chapel, I was distracted watching a man be distracted watching a young woman's below-the-neck area...which was very much revealed,  sun-dress and all...
I think about all the diverse kinds of people in all the parishes in the world and all the different ways they dress.  I remember another reason why I love the Catholic Church.  All the different and diverse people; their dress, their customs, their songs.  I love it all.

I am also remembering one of our Catholic heroines, Colleen Hammond.  How pleased she must be today to hear of Archbishop Martin-Rabago's call to modesty, respect and Christian purity.  It is a good thing, indeed, to visit her website at www.colleenhammond.com, and find out more about her book, "Dressing With Dignity".  Cheers, Colleen!

And Hail Mary's for you both!

Anderson Cooper Rants about Chris Brown, aka Rihanna abuser or How AC has Fun with Dick and Jane

Anderson Cooper recently went on a rant according to a story on....sit down... http://www.eonline.com/news/anderson_cooper_slams_chris_brown/257147?cmpid=sn-000000-twitterfeed-365-top_stories&utm_source=eonline&utm_medium=twitterfeed&utm_campaign=twitterfeed_celebrities_top_stories&dlvrit=79438http:// I do not apologize for enjoying the find, oft-times, on E! and other such hook-ups.

AC shows his audience his sarcastic wit along with a glimpse of what his personal anger and hatred looks like regarding Chris Brown, Rihanna's abuser.  The details of all that don't concern me, but I find that I agree completely with AC on one point, at least.  I do not want to see Chris Brown on television or in movies.  I do not want to hear his music or hear about his clubbing...or whatever.  I wish society would say, no.  No to him, Casey Anthony (OH DON'T GET ME STARTED ABOUT miss Casey anthony), OJ, Michael Jackson's Crapdoctor, Drew Peterson....any of them.

I also would like to find out how the "We Need Professional Jurors Campaign" is going.  I support the idea and would not mind being employed in such a way.  (SEE CASEY ANTHONY JURY - own personal anger)

By the by:  make sure you see the AC video. The article doesn't do the actual,  justice.  AC is one slick cookie, that's fer sure. (but is that a twitch in his eye?)

The Benevolent God - Worry and Coping

Friday the Health section of US News and World Report http://health.usnews.com/health-news/family-health/brain-and-behavior/articles/2011/08/05/less-worry-better-coping-seen-among-religious-folks
reported on a study done at McLean Hospital in Belmont, Massachusetts, titled:  Less Worry, Better Coping Seen Among Religious Folks.  Well.  I'm a "religious folk" and mostly depressed, so I was intrigued.

The religious folk in the study comprise Christians and Jews.  They concluded, in part, that "certain spiritual beliefs are tied to intolerance of uncertainty and worry for some individuals."  I assume that the participants in the study noted that their answers to certain questions were based on their religious beliefs, so I wondered what this meant.

Intolerance of uncertainty.  Is this doubt? turning toward oneself and/or the world? rejection of a truth of the faith? sin? hopelessness? despondency? distrust in God?  Or does the average Christian or Jew only feel intolerant of the uncertainties of the things of the earth?  Is this "coping" in general?

What about worry?  Are we worrying about others' salvation? our own? What about the Jews? (what? me worry?) Or, is the subject just worry, worry, worry?

The researchers "found that the positive beliefs of trust in God were associated with less worry and that this relationship was partially mediated by lower levels of intolerance of uncertainty."  This was a fantastic statement!  Not only do they finally conclude that they "will now take patient's spirituality more seriously than they used to," but they see that there is a relationship between patient and God.  They found that trust in our Good God (beautiful words) were positive in the participants' lives.

The psychiatric world has been embracing "spirituality" for some years now.  It can only get better.  I wonder what the old guard would say about mixing religion and psychiatry for the good?  If I were to join the poll and answer the question of this article, I would say yes, The Benevolent God helps me daily to worry less and cope...better.

Now may I do my part to make known the goodness of our Good God.

In the Pots and the Black Dog

The blog Sustain UK LTD recently posted an article entitled, "Celebrities Back 'Black Dog' Campaign to Defeat Depression."  In it we are reminded that from Horace to Churchill, "black dog" was a metaphor used to describe the condition of being depressed.  Here we are encouraged to use such phrases as:  I'm having a black dog day, the black dog is on my shoulder...I've got the black dog.  This is to substitute for saying we are depressed. (read here: http://blog.sustainukltd.co.uk/#post24)

I used to call my elderly neighbor to ask what she was up to.  She often would tell me she was "in the pots."  This meant she was cooking and not too happy about it.  This came, I believe, from the old saying that one was "in the pits".  This meant one was down, unhappy....depressed, maybe.  So, we would compare what was on the menu that day and, somehow then,  neither of us was still "in the pits" although still "in the pots." Did the change in language help us open up or forget the doldrums?  Did the stigma of being depressed become lessened because we could speak of our mood without shame?  Does language help?  Or was daily contact needed regardless of what was said?

My own personal experience has been that family members and friends may listen when you tell them you are suffering depression and nod sympathetically, but there is a blank look with the listening ears.  I have yet met anyone who wants to know what it really means, what it is like, what I am doing to cope.  This response seems to be everywhere.  Mental illness is the unknown, unwanted intruder in families and society.  Will our hearers be more interested or understanding if they understood what a "black dog day" meant? Would they be more comfortable with us if our language changed to describe our condition?  Would we? Would you?

I'm thinking I may adopt the phrase. I like it somewhat and it may break the ice, bring some humor, or open up a discussion.  It can't hurt.  Meanwhile, I've got a black dog on my shoulder and he needs some attention.

Why Keep Striving (against the wind)?

At some point most mornings lately, I wonder about this question.  Today I came to this in the Catechism of the Catholic Church: 


"But why did God not create a world so perfect that no evil could exist in it?...with infinite wisdom and goodness God freely willed to create a world 'in a state of journeying' toward its ultimate perfection.  In God's plan this process of becoming involves the appearance of certain beings and the disappearance of others, the existence of the more perfect alongside the less perfect, both constructive and destructive forces of nature.  With physical good there exists also physical evil [emphasized in text] as long as creation has not reached perfection. (CCC 175, Cf. St. Thomas Aquinas, SCG III, 71)


"Angels and men, as intelligent and free creatures, have to journey toward their ultimate destinies by their free choice and preferential love.  They can therefore go astray.  Indeed, they have sinned.  Thus has moral evil, incommensurably more harmful than physical evil, entered the world.  God is in no way, directly or indirectly, the cause of moral evil. (Cf. St. Augustine, De libero arbitrio 1, 2: PL 32, 1223; St. Thomas Aquinas, STh I-II, 79, 1.)  He permits it, however, because he respects the freedom of his creatures and, mysteriously, knows how to derive good from it:  '...to cause good to emerge from evil itself.' (St. Augustine, Enchiridion 3, 11: PL 40, 236.) (CCC 311)


"...'It was not you,' said Joseph to his brothers, 'who sent me here, but God...You meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, to bring it about that many people should be kept alive.' Gen 45:8; 50:20; cf. Tob 2:12-18 (Vulg).  From the greatest moral evil ever committed - the rejection and murder of God's only Son, caused by the sins of all men - God, by his grace that 'abounded all the more,' (Cf. Rom 5:20), brought the greatest of goods:  the glorification of Christ and our redemption. But for all that, evil never becomes a good."  (CCC 312)

I am keeping this meditation in my heart today.  Pressing On. One day at a time, as they say.

Cats and Depression

This is Jack. He is the cat of my depression.  He is not the first.  Lucy was the first. She used to stalk me and attack. There was blood.  She once "did her duty" on my husband's pillow after he and I had a fight.  She was born in a barn, was a mouser by birth and, sadly, I had to say goodbye one day and send her off to my daughter's friend's farm.

So I wonder about depressed and lonely women with cats/cat.  I remember a stereotype about "old maid" aunts living with multiple cats.  They seemed crazy.  They looked crazy.  The newspaper occasionally reports about animal control seizing, sometimes, a hundred cats from some little old lady's smelly home.  A popular television character worried while living alone that she would die, decompose without being found, and subsequently her cat, starving, would begin to feed on her face.  (I worry about this often, especially when Jack gets a certain look when we are having a stare-down.)

The aunt, the lonely neighbor, yours truly, all have in common one thing:  depression.  Among many other things we need, desperately, unconditional love.  And what do we "give" ourselves?

The Cat.        (Paul McCartney/Wings "My Love" plays in the background)
                      

the beloved/hated cat, o why?
she is a dog lover
but, alas, she lives so high up
(and yet so low)

the dog must go out
there
rain shine wind snow
she may have to talk to someone

so the cat

he sometimes communicates, most times ... not
he wants the morning rub... so does she
she calls and he comes
after a while.  first he must appear disinterested.
he exhibits dangerous jumping behavior.  she accepts it and wonders....
he joins her, longingly, as she gazes out the window.  wanting to be free.  but fearful.
he messes with her head in innocent cat playfulness - she needs more therapy
she lives alone in her head.  so does he.
he shows off eating then vomiting and he isn't labeled with a disorder
both seem to survive with sunshine

he is the only one who gets the human contact needed
he often acts like a dog
which confuses her more
well,

he keeps the squirrels off her balcony flowers, he likes the music loud, and
she can spend two weeks in her apartment never speaking to anyone.  he's with her all the way.

this must be why we have
the cat

Woman, why are you weeping?

I meditate on the picture of Mary Magdalene and Jesus meeting (seen at the bottom of this blog) many times a month, it seems.  I, like many others who are depressed or are in a "Dark Night of the Soul", may answer as she did.  We are in darkness, we neither see, nor feel the presence of our Lord.  We don't know where he is! Of course we are weeping!  We are lost and alone. 

Then Jesus, Love Incarnate, calls our heroine by name:  Mary.

We know that we may "hold him" later, after his Ascension.  Now.

And Mary is our Mother. Now.

Praise be Jesus Christ, now and forever.

Online Support Group

An online support group found me on Twitter (@lovethepope).  $2.00 per hour to chat with a counselor (one cute guy (?)) and the first four minutes are free. It takes me four minutes to find $2.00 in my purse.  which will eventually bring me to the topic of counseling......

St. Dymphna

Communion of Saints

The Communion of Saints teaches us that we all form one Body in Christ.  Through this communion we can help one another in a most efficacious way.  Somewhere, someone is praying for you, someone is helping you with sancified work, with prayer, with suffering offered up.  We are never alone...

This, if contemplated, will serve as fuel for our optimism.

"O how abundant is your goodness, which you have laid up for those who fear you,
and wrought for those who take refuge in you...Be strong, and let your heart take
courage, all you who wait for the Lord!"  Psalm 31:19,24

The Small Things

Thankful for a bit of pleasure in the small things.  Those otherwise rotten necessities even comfort. Again, who knows why?

Please Still Love Me

The Passionist Sisters

Praying daily and offering my sufferings for the good sisters in Owensboro, Kentucky.