Movie About Redemption

Today's blog is about the movie we watched the other night on pay-per-view -- Flight.  This movie stars Denzel Washington as a jet pilot working for a major U.S. airline.  It's pretty obvious from the beginning that the man has a problem with drugs and alcohol.

Yet, somehow he becomes an unwitting hero during a severe thunderstorm.  While nearly everyone would want to applaud what he was able to do, evidence begins to point to the pilot's uncontrolled drinking.

This is one of those movies (and it's a long one at two and a quarter hours) where you start talking to the television set as though somehow your interest will change the outcome.  This is one of those movies where the main character goes through a crisis and changes in response to it.  This is one of those movies where you find yourself uncomfortable with the character in the movie you have come to like.

The co-pilot on the flight was seriously injured in the crash, and he and his wife are portrayed as believers.  Thing is, they are the kind of believers that think that God caused the plane crash.  I don't know where you stand on this kind of thing, but in my book, God doesn't cause plane crashes.  God doesn't smote us.  God doesn't wreak his punishment on us.  God loves us but we are inhabitants of a world that is greatly affected by things like freak rain storms and our manmade creations like planes.

So as far as weakness in the movie is concerned, one would be that I have no idea how an unbeliever would react to the co-pilot and his wife's beliefs.

The pilot isn't alone in his misery.  He has a number of people who step forward and try to help him, but as often happens in life, he isn't willing to do anything to change at that time.  HE has to hit hit rock bottom first.

At the end, there is no honey-covered conclusion.  But the ending makes sense and the film will do a great deal of good for those who just can't resist the mini-bar in a hotel room, or a visit to a bar, or a stash of alcohol hidden all over the house.  And maybe just as much or more good for those who have to deal with an addict.

If you get a chance to see the film, I'd recommend it.  "All things work into a pattern of good for those who love and serve the Lord."  The movie demonstrates this.

By the way, Father Kevin gave a good sermon on Sunday.  He mentioned how we worry about our loved ones, particularly those who are going down a road that doesn't appear to end anywhere good.  He mentioned how he prays for his sister to come back to church, for example.  THEN, he says, it is time to let go of the worry.  God knows of our worry through our prayers and that is enough.  If we are haunted by worry, we should pray that it leaves us and it will.  No matter how many times the worry comes back, pray that it leaves.  It is our acknowledgement that worry isn't going to solve our concerns.  It is an acknowledgement that we trust in our Lord.

 

Charley

Do you know one of the things that is great about life in a small town?  It's the way that people reach out to others.  It's their amazing gestures of kindness and concern.  It's their love.

I belong to a wonderful prayer group, coordinated by Julie Barkey.  We get regular postings from Julie all the time when she is contacted by those within and those outside the group who are asking for prayer either for themselves or for someone they love.

On Saturday evening after watching a impactful movie that I'll talk about tomorrow, I got a posting from Julie.  It's a little bit longer than my usual posting length, but it is worth the read.  Then I hope you will join with Julie's prayer group and ask for God's help for Charley.

Julia,

I honestly felt like this child is an angel, in fact if he had wings I would not have been surprised!  He looked like one of Raphael’s Cherubim with his blond hair and his large eyes.  He was with a woman and man and teen aged girl but the couple seemed older to me so I am not sure if Charley was their child or an adopted child or what.  Charley was on a wheeled cot, small, and in the center aisle next to the man.   I assumed they had come for the healing service with Fr. Kevin.  They did hold him often as he cannot use his arms or legs, they are all twisted and bent and they don’t move.  

At the sign of peace I asked the woman what his name was and she said Charley and I asked if I could touch him for the sign of peace and she said yes.  He gave me this angelic smile.  After Mass they got up to leave and so I went up to the woman and asked if she wanted to stay for the healing service and she said she did not know about it – what was it.  I told her that our pastor has the gift of healing and often has a healing service after Mass.  She was hesitant but said she would ask her husband and meanwhile I ran out front to let Father know about them.  He came right in and spoke with them and they stayed for the healing prayers. (Fr asked me to stay and I grabbed Ruth from the folk group and another woman I know whose daughter is a missionary somewhere so there were three of us besides Charley and his family).  

 

During the prayers over Charlie he stared intently into Fr’s eyes and never moved.  What I noticed was he was 6 years old and such a peaceful child – no wiggling, complaining, etc.  Charley said the Our Father and the Hail Mary also by heart so he knows his prayers.  The woman and the man also let Fr. pray over them but the girl declined.  Then they left and I don’t even know their names!  They were the only ones there for healing and Ruth and the other woman and myself felt the presence of the Lord!  It was incredible and I have not been able to get Charley out of my mind.  Yesterday I asked Fr. Kevin who they were and he does not know – never saw them before.  We don’t believe they are parishioners but I feel the urge to seek them out. 

I need to know them and to get to know them.  Could you ask our prayer group if anyone knows them?   Honestly, it has affected me greatly.  I wanted to cry all during Mass but the Holy Spirit made me realize that Charley was not crying and that he was in fact smiling.  But it was hard to look at his little arms and legs and know he cannot walk, feed himself, play ball and all the other things we take for granted.  I don’t know what happened to make him this way or anything.  I am praying that our paths will cross again.  Tomorrow I will not be here for Mass and I will be wondering if they come back to our noon Mass! If you find out any information please let me know!

 

Please say prayers for Charley and pray that the kind lady who is looking for them can find them. 

 

 

 

Old Song, New Twist

Yesterday afternoon, I picked up Ella (my granddaughter) at the Hoover Vikings Stadium where her camp bus returns the kids each day.  Lauren (my other granddaughter) came along with me so her dad could fix his truck. 

While we sat there waiting for the bus, an old historic car came down the road a time or two, and Lauren loved it.  She was also curious about the swimming pool just across the street; it looked very inviting.

Once the bus arrived, the cousins hugged and off we went toward Ella's house.  So what do you do when you're driving in a car and have nothing to do?  First you tickle each other.  Then you play hand clapping games.  And well, apparently, you sing "The Wheels on the Bus."

It was going great, sung with gusto, and we'd already been through: the wheels go round and round; the wipers go swish, swish swish; the driver on the bus says move on back; the baby on the bus says waah, waah, waah; the kids on the bus go up and down.  So at this point Ella started borrowing ideas from Old MacDonald.

We had pigs on the bus, a horse, birds, sheep, a cat, and a dog.  And it was hilarious!!  Lauren was laughing so hard, and Ella was just having herself a ball.  It made the ride go by quickly, other than I went one street too far and had to backtrack a little.  Ella said, "Oh, Grandma."  Exactly.

There are moments with your kids or grandchildren that you would just love to capture on video forever.  But as it stands, it will just have to reside in my heart's memory where I can conjure it up and enjoy.  I just wish the rest of the family could have heard it.

With our cosmopolitan world, so many grandmothers don't have the wonderful opportunity to spend time with their grandchildren on a regular basis.  Visits become a whirlwind of activities and commotion, and don't resemble too closely the average days that come and go.  I am blessed to have this chance and enjoy it to the hilt.

On the way to meet the camp bus, Lauren asked me, "Grandma, have you ever seen someone sinning?"  I said that I have -- such as cursing or being mean.  Thankfully, I've never witnessed a murder before, but I've watched people hating each other.

"Well, there's this boy at church and he sins every single time he comes," she explained. 

"What does he do?" I asked.

"This one time he tried to cut my hair with REAL scissors," she told me.  I think that does sound rather sinful, not to mention dangerous.  As she went further with her description, this boy might actually have a problem!!  I hope they can help the little imp.

I mentioned that most of us sin every single day, but that Jesus can forgive us.  She said, "We're just not Jesus," she said in a perfect explanation. 

The wheels on the bus do indeed go round and round, and so my car wheels.  It was time to go home and have dinner.  Lauren was having "movie night" with her mom and dad, and Ella was going to get some dinner with her mom.  Dad took Drew to work with him.  So bless us one and bless us all!!

The Weiner Scandal

So we went through this once and now we are going through it again?  Anthony Weiner just can't seem to stop himself.  Excuse me, but where did embarrassment go? 

With all of these new "communication" devices, it was inevitable that someone would figure out how to misuse them.  I'm sure Mr. Weiner is not the first person to go this route, but he certainly has brought it to light.  To believe that you can be married and be a good father and yet carry on some sort of relationship in this manner is stinking thinking.

Some would say that what he does in his personal life is personal, and it would not affect the way that he would conduct himself as mayor.  I just can't go there.  In his mind, he is serving only one master right now -- himself -- and if his impulse control is already this deteriorated, how could he possibly lead New York City admirably.

People who become sexually addicted need a lot of help.  It is a very difficult addiction, the experts say, and it requires a huge commitment on the part of the addicted person.  A few years ago, the Akron Beacon Journal featured the stories of two area teenaged boys, both of whom became sexually addicted to porn on the internet.  Their parents had filters on the computer but they were still able to access more than enough material to go down this road.  The boys admitted that they were still having a lot of problems.  The counseling was ongoing.

The stakes were high for Mr. Weiner, and yet he could not seem to help himself from seeking out this very risky behavior. 

The other night there was a "Dear Abby" letter about a woman who was buying her husband's liquor and resented other customers' comments like, "I wish I could go home with you."  She said that her husband's drinking was awful to endure.  So wow -- she was enabling his drinking.  Why on earth would she buy him the very thing he couldn't resist?  The advice she received was to join Al-Anon, the group for family members of alcoholics.  Good advice.

Mrs. Weiner has by her own admission forgiven her husband and has chosen to stand by him.  She acknowledges that his behavior is unacceptable and that they have had their troubled times as a couple.  The kind of competition she faces for her husband's attention is much more stupifying than one could imagine -- because during recent times, he seemed to be the loving, caring husband that she believed she married.  So she would constantly have to ask herself -- what exactly was he faking?

I'm no marriage counselor but we can learn a lot from the couples whose marriages have lasted 50 years or more.  One of the most obvious signs of their commitment is respect for one another.  Often, they share a love of God and faith which I should have listed first.  They have united goals in life. 

A marriage has to be more than a shell that loosely holds together some sand and sea water.  It has to be like our faith, founded on a rock.  The rock that the builders rejected became the cornerstone, and that is Jesus.  Sometimes the sicknesses that we see are not "psychological"; they are soul sicknesses.  That's where the healing must start.

See you tomorrow!!

Quick, quick

To my loyal readers -- I apologize.  This posting was ready to go Wednesday morning, but I forgot to "publish."  So here is Wednesday's column on Thursday instead. 

This is going to be really quick today.  I'm off to help Ella get ready for her day camp this morning, meaning I have to leave the house at around 6:20 a.m.

Have you seen that lady on TV peddling Angie's List.  She says she's, "Busy, busy, busy."  Well, who isn't?  Who goes around bragging, "I'm bored out of my mind and have nothing to do in life."  That's kind of like saying, "I'm a loser."

But being "busy" shouldn't necessarily be our goal.  It's what we do with the time that we have that matters.  Sometimes being busy means we are totally consumed with ourselves, what we want to do, what we want to buy, where we want to go.  Sometimes being busy means that we escape from the obvious problems that need to be faced.

I used to love it when all of the books talked about parenting and then mentioned "quality time."  Well, what on earth does that mean?  If you are never at home or rarely there because you are, "busy, busy, busy," then what?  Do you kids get to have a time scheduled in your appointment book?

Because I worked and had to be away from home far more than I wanted, I did absolutely nothing after work.  It was such a habit to get out of there and rush home that for years after the boys were gone, I kept doing the same.  Once home, I stayed home.  We have a nice open kitchen with a counter.  If anyone wanted to talk or share, and I was cooking supper, they could visit with me for as long as they wanted.  If either of them needed help with a project or homework, I was home all evening -- and almost all weekend too.

Quality time is anytime.  It's whenever your kids want to talk or maybe on the other hand when you really need to talk to them about something important.  The true way to take advantage of time with children is to really listen to what they have to say.  Don't interrupt.  Just listen and let them express themselves.  And one of the best ways to get their attention about the important lessons is to use humor.  Tell a story as an example.  A good one.

It's what I always thought anyhow, and then one time in a magazine there was an article about using humor in parenting.  It should really come naturally though -- and come from the heart.  Being able to laugh at yourself is a good start, and then that shows children that grownups make mistakes too and "fessing" up isn't so bad.

Now that my parenting days are done, I don't have too many regrets.  Oh, there are a few here and there, but I gave it my all or most of it.  And now that I can take a nap when I'm tired as opposed to so many years when I couldn't, I can't because then it messes up the night's sleep.  Go figure.

Imagination

Imagination has to be one of our greatest gifts.  The genius of Thomas Edison and Steve Jobs certainly got its start with their ability to imagine something that had never been seen before. 

What would life be like without the trusty vacuum cleaner?  There have been many imitators on the market, but give me my faithful Hoovers anytime.  And they can be repaired too, which prolongs their service even longer. 

The microwave oven has changed a lot in the kitchen.  When I bake and need a pound of softened butter, the microwave does a masterful job of it.  When there is just a little dab of food left from dinner, it would have been thrown away pre-microwave.  Now that little dab of food becomes part of lunch.  Less waste, more taste. 

Life was very different without television.  Sitting around a radio sounds very cozy and family-friendly, and it might also spur on the imagination, but seeing is great!!  The American most associated with the development of TV is Philo Farnsworth, however, a Scot and a Russian and others contributed to this breakthrough technology including the welcome addition of color. 

The moving picture camera helped Americans get through World War II by giving them some relief from rations and worry by being able to escape at the movie theater.  Newsreels at the movie theaters preceded the featured movie, and these newsreels showed what was going on at the war front as well as the victory parades and the celebrations when the war ended in 1945. 

For some of us, imagination guides us in picking colors for our walls and visualizing an old house coming back to life.  For some, imagination is the trigger for creating beautiful works of art using paint, fiber, pastels, watercolors, and other media.  For some, imagination starts them on a pathway to produce beautiful music.

For some of us, imagination allows us to read the Bible and picture what people were going through at different points in the Word of God.  When we can imagine how something might feel, we can experience empathy, a strong emotion that ties us to other people in an unexplainable way.  It is empathy that often makes us want to share our plenty with others who have far less.

Among the many gifts that we have been given by God, we must certainly be thankful for imagination. 

Have a great Tuesday!!

The Music of the Rain

When I was a little kid, I had a decent walk to school.  Kind of like the postman, it didn't matter too much if it was snowing, windy, or raining -- I'd be out in it.  My mom didn't have a car and my father left for work way before we needed to.

A lousy day might have RAIN to start with and maybe it had already been raining during the night.  Everything was soaked, and there was this SMELL.  You know it, I'm sure, and it is unmistakable.  The smell of worms!!

Yucky, juicy worms that were slithering about on the sidewalk trying to get back to the soil again.  The ones with that little thick bandaid at one point on their length.  Nightcrawlers!!  The damp, stinky air surrounded me as I made my way down the sidewalk.

And of course, who wants to step on one, so that meant looking straight down and stepping here, not there, avoiding this space and that.  ALL the way to school.  With an umbrella, no book bag. 

Researchers have found that one of the most identified smells is Crayola Crayons.  The 8-pack, 16-pack, 48-pack, or the absolutely fabulous 64-pack with the built-in sharpener leave an impact on kids.  Reseachers should check into people who walked to school for seven years -- they would find that the smell of worms ranks right up there with Crayolas. 

To this day, the smell of worms awakens memories.  All kinds of memories that take me back to elementary school and the four trips a day to and from school.

So what pithy thing do I want to say here?  I suppose it's that we are jam-packed with memories and we tend to remember either the very good or the very bad most distinctly.  According to researchers, whenever we get a bunch of adrenalin flowing and probably some other mysterious brain chemicals, those memories are especially vivid.  They are imbedded in the brain and are nearly impossible to erase. 

We are made to remember.  God wants us to remember because locked within our memories are the lessons that we have had to so painfully learn. 

And so one morning we awaken to the rain and the soaked earth.  And yes, the unmistakable smell of worms!!  And once again we are a kid going to school walking this way and not that.  Flooded with memories of home, of school, of friends, of our mother.

It's raining!  Maybe I should step outside for a moment and see if I can smell the earthworms.

Who was it?

Okay, we have a little mystery around here, and we've been a little short on excitement so this is big.  The "fairy" garden that we put together about three weeks ago was ravaged!

All of the fairy furniture was tossed about.  The fairy was flung over the stone wall (a landscaping block), the moss planter was messed pretty good, and the plastic dogs and cats were all over the place.  I didn't even miss the fairy at first and for an instant it occurred to me that it had been taken.  Even the two little houses that were remnants of some solar lights were tossed about.  The bridge was knocked askew and the "water" which is made up of those little glass blobs people put in the bottom of vases was all over.

Our little breaking and entering crime has a very familiar look to it.  And all of the evidence points to either a masked bandit (raccoon), or the famous white streaked black creature (skunk).  The damage to the fairy garden was incidental to this crime.  The perpetrator wanted something to eat and probably went a little batty after it dug among the moss for a bit. 

Now I'm kind of rethinking the fairy garden, which I really like to refer to as an angel garden.  Perhaps Plan B needs to go into action before long.  Plan B is retrieving all of the purchased fairy stuff and cleaning it really good -- then bringing it all into the house for the winter into some kind of fairy dwelling that I'd have to make.  The bonus of this is that the grandchildren would have it to play with when they come over, and it would certainly help it last a little longer.

People seem to be drawn to miniatures, don't they?  Many years ago, a miniature version of the White House was being taken from city to city and we went to check it out.  It was absolutely amazing.  The way they did it, you could see into the rooms quite well to be able to appreciate the miniature lighting which worked and the miniature portraits of the presidents, not to mention the miniature area rugs.  It's just a priceless work of art.

In a miniature world, we get to control everything.  And under normal circumstances, when we place furniture somewhere or set the house in a certain place, for example, it stays there.  For the neat nuts, this is really awesome, because they just don't have that kind of control in their own house.

The thieves messed up my little fairy world outside, because apparently we share it.  Wowsers. 

Waterloo Bridge

Last October, seven famous paintings were stolen from a Rotterdam museum in a well-planned daytime heist .  Among them was Monet's painting, "Waterloo Bridge, London," painted in 1901.  The bridge was depicted in near darkness and haze and it has a dreamy appearance.

The three Romanian thieves who have been arrested were able to take the paintings to Bucharest, but authorities were not able to find the artwork.  Police had concentrated their search in a specific village in Romania of late and apparently that was what spurred one person to act.  In a new development in the case, the mother of the ringleader has confessed that she BURNED all seven in a wood oven.  Analysts have conducted tests of the ashes from the stove and have found nails, paint, staples, and tiny remnants of canvas.  Incredulous at first that such a thing would have been done, investigators are beginning to believe that this is, in fact, what happened.

The woman, Olga Dogaru, had placed the paintings in an abandoned house during one period of time, and then buried them in a cemetery.  Priceless paintings going from a place where preservation is of huge importance and then being taken almost out into the elements from what it sounds like is unbelievable.

In other cases of famous art gone missing, the one thing that usually trips up the thieves or makes it almost impossible for them to profit from the theft is that famous paintings are nearly impossible to sell.  Auction houses and galleries are already on high alert.  Selling to an individual with the kind of money they would ask is difficult, because how would you find an individual who could pay for the paintings and not tell anyone?

It seems as though Olga's job was to protect her son at all costs -- no matter what.  Picasso, Monet, Matisse, Gauguin, de Haan and Freud works were burned in a stove rather than having her son face the consequences.  It sure takes aiding and abetting to a new low.

"Thou shalt not steal," is a pretty plain way of telling us what we ought not do.  We are to EARN a living, not steal one.  We are to appreciate and be inspired by art, not make off with it. 

But Olga, by destroying the artwork, has committed a greater crime by far.  She took these works away from all of us in a sense.  By her actions she gives us a hint as to why her son became the kind of person that he did. 

Yet, no matter how vilified Olga becomes when the forensics are complete, Jesus died for Olga too.  If she asks forgiveness for her sins, she will be forgiven. 

My husband gets upset when blackbirds come into the yard in the waning months of summer and eat all of the birdseed, when he wants the cardinals, the chickadees, and the nuthatches, etc., to have it.  So he pounds on the window and disperses the flocks of undesirables, and two minutes later they are all back again.  I remember one day telling him, "Look, we feed the birds.  It's annoying but we can't discriminate as to which birds get the food.  We just feed the birds." 

It's like that with God's mercy.  It is extended to all, to the Olgas of the world as well as us.  We all fall short and need Divine Mercy. 

A Little Attention

It all began several months ago with the flashlight.  One of our three inside cats is a "light beam" chaser.  He believes in his heart that if he just tries hard enough, he can catch the beam from the flashlight moving about the floor.

So I humored him a time or two and soon the large pumpkin colored cat started showing up each morning and patiently waiting for his flashlight time.  And he also meows, or sort of, to get me to participate.  He maintains eye contact with me while I make my toast, just hoping that I'll open up the flashlight drawer. 

Showing just that little bit of attention awakened a rather sluggish cat that did not seem to be enjoying much of anything except food and sleep.  He began to blossom and show a lot more personality, and spend more time around us and the other cats too.  He seems happier.

That's when we thought maybe he'd like one of those moving laser light toys that you can sit on a table or on the floor.  The red beam moves about and stops once in a while, the only annoyance being the sound of the motor inside the plastic toy.  Well, Pumpkin really does like it!  Now he waits every morning for us to start the thing which fortunately has a timer on it.  About 15 minutes or so later, after the cat has had his morning exercises, the toy stops.

The two other cats usually show up to watch, probably just for something to do.  They already know that they can't catch light beams.  How do they know?  I suppose they tried it several times and when it didn't work, they quit trying.  Pumpkin on the other hand refuses to accept that fact and the quest continues.  I wonder if they ever communicate with one another, the unbelievers saying something like, "Hey, doofus, don't you get it?  You're never gunna catch that thing."  And then maybe Pumpkin just ignores them, thinking that he's going to show them a thing or two about light beams.

When we have joy in our hearts, we are like Pumpkin.  We always believe that even the most impossible things can happen.  The naysayers are about us telling us different, and our own doubts creep in at times, but we persist.  We wait.  We keep praying.  We never quit. 

If I was transformed into a cat, I'd want to be like Pumpkin.  Some would say maybe he's not the brightest of the bright, but it doesn't matter a hoot to me.  I'd rather have that unflagging hope, that gift from God that keeps fueling me on the road that St. Paul talks about.  The road where we run the race of our lives.  And the light of Christ illuminates the way!!

Caroline Staebler

We have a very rich resource here in Ohio that apparently a lot of people aren't aware of.  That would be the death notice database from 1908 through 1953.  It is free which is amazing, and it is very easy to use.

Family Search has made this information available to anyone.  After putting in a name, all of the records that match that name (or close to it) pop up on the screen.  If you click on one of the names, the typewritten information becomes available.  If you want to see the actual document, then you register, but it remains free.

The other day in my quest for a little more information about my family, I stumbled onto something rather remarkable.  My great grandmother's, Caroline Stabler's, death certificate yielded some amazing information.  She came to this country from Alsace, Germany and was born in about 1843.  She lived in Cleveland, Ohio, and resided with her daughter (my grandmother) at the time of her death which occurred on March 17, 1922. 

As I attempted to read the space on the certificate where cause of death is noted, the words finally came clear to me.  My grandmother died in church!!  It says so very plainly on her death certificate -- that she died suddenly at St. Ignatius Church of a probable stroke.  She was 79.  Last night before I went to bed, I just had to look up some other pertinent information.  What day of the week was March 17th?  I found a 1922 calendar very quickly and saw that it was a Wednesday.  So then I needed to find out when Easter was in that year.  It turns out that the day she died was not Ash Wednesday, but just an ordinary Wednesday during Lent and she chose to go to church.

I don't know much about my great-grandmother.  I have a picture of her, thanks to my fantastic cousin in New Jersey, who sought out all kinds of information starting about 10 years ago or so.  She produced single-handedly an entire record of my grandfather and his nine siblings, six of whom came here and four of whom remained in the homeland.  And she and I have become friends because we share this interest which she has candidly admitted isn't shared by everyone in the family. 

If your time comes, I can't think of a more beautiful way to go than in church.  The angels are already there!!

Have a wonderful Tuesday, everyone, and beat the heat in some way or another.

Blank Slate

The artist has the stark white canvas facing him or her.  The composer has a blank sheet of paper marked with bars and clefs and all of that stuff.  In this case the writer has a blank piece of screen paper and the pressure is on.

There are robotic voices that tell us which way to go using our GPS navigational system.  There is synthetic music created with computers.  There is a program for the computer that recognizes the human voice and produces keyboard copy from it.  But no one really understands the creative process whereby we end up with the Halleluia Chorus, or Water Lilies, or The Lord of the Rings.  Isn't it just amazing?

In each case the brain's creative energies created a masterpiece, and these works have stood the test of time and remain vibrant and recognized. 

We have physical places in our midst where the hand of God worked through a human being.  A bit like the creative process whereby a person is able to create great works, the miracles that happen mean that because a person, God is able to intervene here on earth.  It's a mystery.  How can we ever really understand?

One of those places is the Rhoda Wise house in Canton, Ohio.  Rhoda Wise led a very difficult life and her sufferings are documented on a website for us to read.  The website is www.rhodawise.com (My Story).  This woman had a huge tumor removed from her abdomen, and after that had an accident that resulted in an injury to her ankle.  Neither injury healed properly.  Her abdominal wound became so gross that I am sure that even at the hospital where she spent a good deal of time, the staff would have liked to avoid her.

As she lay suffering, Rhoda was doing a lot of thinking.  The year was 1939 and Rhoda Wise, a Protestant, decided to join the Catholic Church.  She felt drawn to it and especially to a very special saint, St. Theresa the Little Flower.  She was instructed about the church and was accepted into it on January 1, 1939.  By May, Rhoda was declared incurable and was sent home with what now diagnosed as cancer.  Her abdomen was an open wound and she was in so much pain that she prayed that God would take her.  Instead, Rhoda was healed of her abdominal cancer on June 28, 1939 after a visit from Jesus and St. Theresa.  This miracle left Rhoda with only one other problem -- the ankle which caused her intense pain.  On August 15, 1939, Rhoda Wise was visited by Jesus in her room and her ankle was also completely healed.  She went to Mercy Hospital without crutches and heard her first Mass.

Rhoda became an instrument of God in the lives of many people -- one of whom was Mother Angelica (Rita Rizzo) who at 19 years of age was taken to Rhoda's home and subsequently was healed of a painful condition that was called dropped stomach.  It's important that the person to whom the gift of healing is given is not confused with the actual healer -- God.  There is no power to heal without God being fully active and part of it. 

Check out the website I mentioned in the earlier paragraph.  The home of Rhoda Wise has become a place of worship with an outdoor grotto and a chapel.  The location is 2337 25th Street NE in Canton.  Rhoda died in 1948 but her daughter remained in the home and allowed visitors.  After her death in 1995, the home was made into a shrine.

We are surrounded by such interesting places -- Rhoda Wise's house being one of them -- and we tend to ignore them because they are relatively close by.  I think maybe I'd like to go there soon.  But meanwhile, check out the website.  Rhoda Wise was truly blessed by God.

The Hype

For some reason summer never lives up to the hype that we get on TV ads or the hype that's in my mind.  And I always get the feeling that something was left on the table by the time school starts again.  Maybe I'm not alone in this.

So what's the problem?  I don't know is the problem.  One of my issues is that I am not good at relaxing.  From nearly 30 years of working full-time and then rushing home to see my family along with cooking and cleaning, working is what I tend to do.  So maybe the problem is that I don't know how to play, don't know how to just sit.  And with ADD, sitting isn't something that comes easy.

First, I blamed the fact that we don't have any shade out on the deck.  It's really hot out there especially when the sun is out.  So we got out the umbrella table and umbrella and a couple of patio chairs.  Sat out there one day and fell asleep and thought to myself -- I can do that inside just as well. 

There is a small garden out front that I can tend quite easily, and so I do that.  Trim the boxwoods, do a little weeding, chop off the sage plants that are getting really shaggy by this time of year, pick up some debris.  OK, so now what?  Back to the patio chairs and the umbrella table? 

How about read a book outside?  Sure, that might work for a while.  Maybe I'll try that tomorrow.  It's supposed to be nice and I have a book from the library that should be an attention grabber -- The Boys in the Boat.  I'll let you know how that works out on Tuesday. 

From an article in Martha Stewart Living, I learned that when we craft, it changes out brain chemistry.  While we are crocheting or quilting or doing artwork, whatever, the brain is so engaged in that effort that the stress chemicals don't have a chance.  And the work itself floods us with good brain chemicals that make us feel better.  The article mentioned a lady who had a really terrible day going for her.  Everything that morning had gone wrong and she was so upset that when she arrived home she grabbed her yarn and started working on a project.  Before very long, her whole demeanor changed and she was like a different person -- calm and settled.  Her case isn't isolated.  Even the texture of the yarn has a soothing effect.

So here is my solemn promise to my loyal blog readers.  I WILL NOT end this summer feeling like I left something on the table, and I WILL get to the bottom of my inability to enjoy myself out in my own yard!!!  How's that?  I have a goal now, and because I've shared it with you, it has to be dealt with.

St. Paul talks about the race that we run in life.  A continuous race to a finish line -- toward God.  He eloquently explains that everything we do needs to keep us in that race and heading toward that goal so that in the end God might be able to say to us, "Well done, good and faithful servant." 

I think that maybe the book I should take out on the deck is a little more important than The Boys in the Boat.  It's time for me to spend some time reading God's Word.  And where better than out in the beautiful world that He created.  Maybe then my summer will have been fulfilled and when the cold winds start, it will feel complete.

Vet Visit

Our appleheaded Siamese cat, Sassy, had a problem and it needed to be addressed yesterday.  She, um, hadn't been "going."  And by that I mean #2.  This same problem happened about a year ago, and she'd never had a hint of a problem before that. 

So we had been dosing her with a cat product sold by the vet's office that looks as though molasses might be involved.  We did that for a few days, but still nothing.  So off we went to have Sassy taken care of -- and it was no spa visit.  She had to have an enema and then we waited for it to take effect. 

Thankfully, it worked and she is happily home now, exhausted and hiding under the bed in our room.  She won't even acknowledge my presence at this point, since I was obviously the cause of her losing her dignity.  Maybe she'll start coming around today and get back to being the sweet girl that she really is.  She's what you might call "sensitive." 

While we waited, one of the vet's assistants came by with a lovely little gray cat, about five or six years old she said.  Someone wanted it to be put down but the vet decided to keep her around.  She likes to be held, but apparently gives mixed signals about what she likes and doesn't like.  She has no tail, most likely the result of some sort of fight with another animal.  When the assistant happened by Sassy's cage, Sassy started "chirping," she said.  A rather remarkable thing for a cat with an enema -- but I think she mistook this little gray cat for one we have at home who looks almost identical.  That would be Gracey, our foundling who showed up during trick or treat two years ago this coming fall.  Kind of a trick it seemed at the time, but she is truly a treat for us.  She is funny, feisty, playful, and gentle. 

While we were there, a father and daughter came out of one of the rooms, and the girl was obviously very upset.  She was crying on her dad's shoulder.  Apparently, their cat wasn't doing well at all, and the dad said that they had to hold it together because "mom" will be very upset.  I really felt for her and for the mom who had no idea what was going on.  I know all too well that horrible feeling when every fear that's been coursing through your mind suddenly comes true.  When all of a sudden, life is off kilter and the rut and routine that you had only the day before would be ever so welcome!  When you go home with an empty cage and like on auto pilot watch for the cat to come around for the next few days.

Sometimes I ask myself why my husband and I have animals.  Because there is some responsibility and there is also sadness.  We've had to say goodbye to Puddin'Head, Velvet, Shimmer, Girlie, Tigger and Ugly thus far.  But what they gave us and how much more loving we became because of them weighs out.  They all had good lives here and were well spoiled.  The book, "Heaven is For Real," is the story of a four-year-old boy who experienced near death.  His description of heaven includes mention of the animals in heaven.  For those people who have felt the sting of losing a beloved pet, that kind of reassurance is good.  For how does any one of us know what is in store for us?  While my first thought extends to loved ones who have gone on before, heaven would be even better with pets.

I also think of St. Francis and his love of animals.  We can learn so much from all of God's creatures.

So for now Sassy is okay and we can return to the rut and routine and it is welcome. 

A little postscript here -- the park is indeed flooded and they aren't sure yet what they are going to do with all of the rides for Canal Days.  I feel for everyone who has been hurt by this.  Canal Days is life in a small town personified.

Summer of Now and Then

This summer has been one of those that tests the patience of people, especially those of us who live in places that experience winter.

We make plans; that's what people do.  We don't expect the disappointments that come. 

Some 41 years ago, we had a strange summer.  There was rain, sure, but there was also a pervasive cold that just would not go away.  Other than two weeks of really warm weather, the summer of 1972 was chilly (for swimming) and unpredictable.  This was the summer before my first son was born, and we had plans too.

My brother-in-law had become part-owner of a country club in Medina.  They had a pool there but it had never been much of a success.  It was not heated for one thing.  Near the pool was a garage for golf carts and so in order to make the pool more fun for the members, they walled off a portion of it and created a snack bar.  It was really a cute little thing. 

The snack bar had a refrigerator in it already and an old chest freezer that didn't work all that well.  We added a hot dog and bun steamer and a Stewart sandwich maker, plus a milk shake maker.  There were shelves for candy and snacks and a nice serving shelf in front for customers. 

Everything was in perfect shape for that summer, except for the one thing no one ever really counted on, and that was the poor weather.  In my mind, the build-it-and-they-will-come thing was going strong and it just wouldn't sink in that this summer experience would be anything but great.  But now you never knew when to close the pool or keep it open, pay the lifeguards to sit around or send them home.

It was supposed to be a money maker but it turned out to be a lot of work, and we maybe broke even.  As the days went by, my optimism began to wane and turn into something else.  Do you know that feeling when it seems like there is a dark cloud over your head and it won't leave?  That feeling that nothing ever goes right?  That feeling that everything you touch goes bad?  That's the feeling that I grew to have that summer, and it was akin to despair.  We aren't suppose to despair because despair is a giving up on everything and most especially God.

During those couple of warm weeks, the pool was doing great and the snack bar did a good business.  It was a hint of what was to come the next summer which was much more typical of Ohio.  But in 1972 I was 25 years old, pregnant, and not very good at understanding how life sometimes works. 

There was another really memorable summer weather wise.  The summer of 1987 was a very trying one too because of a huge drought we had that year.  Everything was so parched!!  It was in that year that I learned to appreciate the good and accept the bad much better.  It was in that year that I promised myself I would never complain about rain again, and I haven't.  It takes time for us to let go and recognize that we aren't in control of things here.  Inside our own houses, we can move the temperature gauge up or down, but once we walk outside, it isn't our call anymore.

So the summer of 2013 will be remembered as a summer of rain, I suppose, but I for one am not going to despair or complain.  I just hope we can get through Canal Days without the river going over its banks.

Tea

I pay attention to the silliest things -- like the shelves at the supermarket.  What products command the best spots?  How do the demands of consumers change the shelf space?  There's a war in the supermarket and we don't even know about it.  Brand versus brand.  Product type versus product type. Shelf versus shelf.

Coffee has been nudged out in the last few years by the tea display.  Wow.  There was a day when I would buy my then-favorite brand of tea and there was maybe Tetley, Lipton and one other off brand to choose from.  Took up a very small section of shelving while the coffee section was huge.  Both coffee and tea gained ground with the introduction of the same thing -- flavor.

There was the neatest store to visit in Fairlawn called Susan's Coffee and Tea Shop.  Smack in the middle of the Fairlawn Plaza (which is now pretty much taken up by Lucky Shoes), Susan's was an oasis.  They had homemade scones and other baked goods, as well as their unbelievably good blends of coffee.  Chocolate raspberry, rainforest crunch, French vanilla, Kenyan AA, and so many others that I can't remember now!!  We bought it by the bags for Christmas presents.  Some of the patrons of Susan's were the nouveau riche, as I would call them.  Decidedly affected, one of the most important parts of visiting Susan's was to try and ignore them.  Sounds pretty snotty, I know, but it was really quite the opposite.  Earthy people are the ones I tend to gravitate towards, not people trying to impress other people.  If I didn't ignore them, then I started to feel like the wrong kind of duck in the lake.  And it still sounds snotty!  Maybe I've learned to do better now.

Oh, and I'm not positive, but there might still be a Susan's in the Orangerie Mall in Akron.  Sorry to be changing the subject all of the time here. 

After a cup of Susan's coffee, one would feel like they could take on the world!  Caffeine does that.  Want to see me clean house?  Just give me a nice, strong cup of coffee and it's like the old commercial -- the white tornado!

But back to tea.  At some point it was obvious to me that coffee and I weren't getting along so well anymore.  Not on day-to-day basis anyhow.  A special cup here and there was okay, but my insides begged for a break so if you recall the old ad, "Take tea and see," that's what I did.  Good stuff, tea.  Calming, relaxing, about a third less caffeine but you still get some, and lots of flavors if you are into that. But just give me a good, old bag of Lipton tea and some sugar and that is just right.

Tea gained popularity, as I mentioned above, with flavor.  But there is more to the story.  Tea gained ground from widely circulated news reports that "green" tea was very good for a person.  Lots of antioxidants, you know.  And then there were green teas with flavors.  A never ending battle to gain the attention of consumers.  Hundreds of focus groups, marketers would say, to dissect our likes and dislikes.

My favorite tea story is one that occurred at the office at The University of Akron where I worked.  One day when I returned to my office space, a plastic glass of clear liquid with green leaves in it sat on my desk.  Nice warm clear liquid.  Turns out one of the graduate assistants wanted to do something nice for us so she had her mother in China send us the best green tea by air.  It was delicious and I didn't use any sugar.  It was such a lovely gesture of friendship.  One of those days when someone's kindness made you feel special.  And so on that day, east met west and it was good.

Some of my best contemplations are in the company of tea.  A cup of it sits on my work station here in the craft room as I write this.  No matter where I am, once the tea cup is full and hot, I am home.

Recycle

Some years ago we were stockholders in a trash hauling company.  The two main owners were amazingly dedicated to the job, and actually sorted through the trash at a small facility that they owned.  This was recycling in the early years.

It was quite a while later that my husband and I both seemed to get interested in recycling at the same time.  He bought several large blue plastic tubs with easy-to-carry handles; one is for plastics, one for glass and metal, and the third is for paper.  There are two locations to drop off recyclables in our township -- one behind Heritage Square Shopping Center, and the other is off of Orrville Road at the former state outpost. 

Once we got used to participating, it became easier.  Each time we open cans, the rinsed cans are put on a small countertop by the door to the garage.  Same with newspapers, other paper, cans, bottles and plastics.  Whoever happens to go out to the garage grabs the items and sorts them into the bins.  Because we clean out the cans and bottles, and rinse out the milk cartons, we've never had a problem with odor or animals in the garage.  We never leave garbage in the garage either; living in the woods means sharing the land with a LOT of animals.

Our trash hauling service is supposed to recycle.  Many of them say that, but how do you really know?  And it only takes a few moments to do the work.  In Canton, they give out blue bins (more than one if you need it), and the bins are set out with the garbage cans, making recycling in Canton very easy.  Canton is also great at taking used appliances and almost anything that's put out at the curb.  If we have extras, our garbage service expects that we will call and then they send a small truck to do this extra work that we are charged for.  But at least we can do the responsible thing and dispose of the appliance.  Better than the hulking hot water tank that used to be at the bottom of our gully.  A couple of years ago we recycled a TV at an approved place for that purpose.  WE paid for the recycling costs.

Participating in recycling came as a natural result of my husband manning one of the recycling centers for the Canal Fulton Lions.  One member works there from nine to 12 each Saturday, and the members help people get their recyclables out of their vehicles.  The State of Ohio has a program for this and they pay the township to participate, and so the Lions are able to do something good for the community and also put a little bit of cash in their coffers.  A win-win.

Sometimes I hear about how pollution has resulted in horrible problems.  The one that really got to me was the huge mass of plastic refuse that has gathered in the oceans.  The trash follows the ocean currents going around and around.  Apparently, the experts believe that the problem cannot be solved.  There is no way to gather up this trash and properly dispose of it.  Honestly, I wish I'd never heard about this.  And then a part of me thinks -- what do you mean we can't do anything about it?  We built the Empire State Building in a year!

God expects us to care for the earth that He made.  For us to keep our property cleaned up, to take care of fallen trees, to recycle, is nothing special.  We are not special because we choose to do this.  For us it is just the right thing to do.

Digging in the Dirt

What is there that is so basic about digging in the dirt that we are drawn back to it again and again?  Weeding, clipping, deadheading, admiring -- so the work of the gardener goes on while waiting for that one or two tomato flowers to do what you have waited so long to see.  The beginnings of fruit.

I promised a report on the CDs from the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of Apostles.  It plays as I write this posting.  From my earliest ear report, it was a worthwhile purchase.  With the music on one of those small players and earphones, the task of gardening would be no task anymore.  The peaceful sound rivals those that nature produces so effortlessly -- birds calling to each other over the trees, the rustle of leaves waving in a slight breeze, the quickened movements of a small animal in the brush.

If you are looking for something that you can play in the car after a really rough day, something that would certainly be interesting for children to hear, then the Sisters got it right.  The kind of noise that kids hear from far too early of an age can be partly erased by the sounds of these dedicated Benedictine nuns.

Their first peace, "O God of Loveliness," is a melody you will probably know already.  Once the lower voices enter in, the bliss of their harmony comes around complete.

There is an ad that I loathe.  It is for rather hideous shoes that must appeal to someone, but I can't think of many who would venture in that direction.  These shoes are surely for someone who wants a badly sprained ankle in the worst way.  At any rate the silly song goes something like this, "I crashed my car into a bridge -- and I don't care."  (I had to turn off the nuns' music in order to try and remember this trashy, stupid song.)  So let's for a moment contrast this girly band music to that of the nuns and imagine to ourselves -- which will last?  Which will inspire?  Which draws one towards God and not away from Him?

You are what you eat, they say.  You are what you read.  You are what you hear.  You are what you see.  A little too simple, sure.  But there is absolutely no doubt that we can certainly fall under the influence of food, reading material, sounds, and sights.  Do we want to reach for the Divine or not?

A section in the Bible deals with temptation, and it suggests in a very graphic way that if our eye is the problem, then pluck it out.  Some people spend inordinate amounts of time deciding what they will eat.  Is it organic?  Who grew it?  What did they use for fertilizer?  What kind of life did the hens have that laid the eggs?  A little too much scrupulousness for me.  A little too much "me."  A little too much worrying about how long I will live rather than HOW I will live.

How much time do we put into the things we read, hear, and see?  These are worthwhile questions.

"O God of Loveliness," teach me your ways.

A Walk in History

Yesterday my neighbor and I went on a lovely hike back into history.  We started at what is now called Heritage Park in Canal Fulton and went south towards Lock IV Park.  The towpath is perfectly flat and easy to navigate.  The occasional, "Coming on your left," from approaching bicycles was the only thing that broke the quiet.

On one side of the path the canal waters are dark green and there are blooming water lilies all about, their fresh white color contrasting with all of the green around them.  About halfway back from Lock IV we saw a wading Great Blue Heron.  Almost like a ballet, the large bird would lift one leg and then the other in an elaborate movement.  Perhaps he was fishing.  In any case, he didn't seem to fear us at all as we approached and finally passed.  Another walker who came by said it was the first blue heron he had seen, although he had spotted egrets.

On the other side of the pathway is the Tuscarawas River, flowing a muddy dark brown dotted with bubbles.  A forbidding strip of land between the two of maybe 20 feet keeps the two bodies of water separate and is most likely home to many small animals.  The towpath is shadowed by the huge trees which make the walk much more comfortable in this humid weather and makes the colors richer and more vivid. 

At Lock IV they have done a lot of landscaping and have made the place very attractive.  There is one picnic bench that sits on a small patch of land closest to a spillway by the locks.  It would be a great place to take a picnic lunch or even drink a bottle of water.  There is something so soothing about the sound of cascading water.  It made me wonder why we sit at the dining room table most nights, instead of doing something different.

There is much local history at Lock IV, but there is also family history for me.  I can imagine Lock IV as it was years ago with animal swings and animals mounted on huge springs.  Huge willows sheltered the whole park and brought down the temperature.  I can imagine my own children there enjoying the freedom of that moment, with our backpacks sitting on a picnic bench, having eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and refreshed ourselves with some sort of drink.  A terrible storm, nearly a tornado, struck the park hard many years ago and brought down almost all of the willows.  It seemed at that time that the place would never have the same draw, but it was wonderful to see it has been brought back now.

This lovely world that our God has created is there for us to take in and make memories of.  For all of this is just a teaser, a foreshadowing of what is to come in heaven.  We should put our toes in the water of it and find peace.

Happy Fourth of July!!  God Bless America!!

A Yearning for the Old

A few architects in the past ten years have been working in an area called "New Urbanism."  Pictures of their carefully planned developments have appeared in Martha Stewart Living and also recently in the Akron Beacon Journal.

The crux of their theory is that people yearn for the old lifestyle that they remember in their youth.  The carefree, safe, shared lifestyle that children thrive in. 

In these developments, it looks as though houses spaced quite close together face one another with a large common "yard" in the area in front.  There are walkways going in and around the space, and some have a communal fire pit while others might have a shared swimming pool or other entertainments.  Front porches are the rule, so that folks can sit out in the evenings and either just wave at their neighbors or visit one another with a glass of something in their hands.

Some of the houses are much smaller, but there are plenty that pack quite a few square feet into them.  They have all of the amenities that people want these days:  hardwood floors, granite countertops, open floor plans, and well equipped bathrooms.  There are some 55+ areas that use the same adaptation as well, and these developments are worked in and around golf courses.

Of course, this utopian concept relies on the theory that the neighbors will get along and enjoy one another.  It implies that children will behave and be respectful of the common areas while they play.  It suggests that all of the folks who live in the planned development share common core values.

If you think about some of the things I've written in this blog over the past so many months, one of the themes that runs through many of the postings is that I believe people are longing for God.  In New Urbanism they may want to shed the isolation of the typical neighborhoods and try something completely different.  In my opinion, the desire to be closer to people equals a desire to be closer to God.  For we often find God through others; we often seek out wisdom in others; we often join in with others looking for the deeper meaning in life.  One thing that I did not see mentioned in the stories about the planned developments is the location of churches.  That would be an important facet, to me anyhow.

What keeps people from crossing the street and talking to neighbors in typical developments?  There isn't much of anything that often divides us.  Many suburban streets are not overloaded with traffic.  We don't know our neighbors all that well, and we've lived here since 1987.  I'm kind of embarrassed by that!!  What used to keep me away was the hectic pace of work, raising children, and housework, plus our house is in a cul-de-sac.  It's hard to juggle all of those things and stay sane.  But what's my excuse now?

In the allotment where one of my sons lives, they used to have a huge "block" party each year with everyone bringing a dish, kids playing together, music, and games.  The movers and shakers who brought about these wonderful get-togethers have moved to other places now, and the parties are a thing of the past.  It was a great concept.

We'll just have to see how Redmond, Washington and some of the other developments make out over a longer period of time.  Will the luster wane?  Will property values stay firm? Who knows?

Meanwhile, I'll try to be much more neighborly. 

Meditation Music for the Soul

My husband was watching one of the morning shows and said that they featured music from a CD created by a cloistered order of nuns.  With a quick web search, it seems they are the Benedictines of Mary Queen of Apostles.  This order was founded in 1995 in Pennsylvania, but in 2006 they were invited to move to Kansas City/St. Joseph, Missouri.  Their priory in Bower, Missouri,is called, "Priory of Our Lady of Ephesus.  The best information that the church has is that Mary, the Mother of Jesus, spent her last years in Ephesus.

The nuns are relatively young -- in their 20s and 30s mostly.  They sing about three hours a day, and spend all other hours save one in silence.  They are permitted to sing to themselves, however. 

The audio recordings for their CDs were created within their chapel.  What they have recorded are chants, some of which were written by the saints themselves.  Each nun does what she can to further their work.  Some of them do the art work for the CD covers; some of them translate Latin; some of them work on musical arrangements.  They do whatever they can in all manner of selflessness.

Their first CD, Advent at Ephesus, climbed to the top of the classical music charts and remained there for a long time.  Their newest CD, just released within the last couple of months, is now at the top of the charts.  Its title is Angels and Saints of Ephesus.

While the hosts of the morning talk show listened, they began to relax and they actually wanted to continue listening to this very special music.  We are so want in this world of quiet, of peace, and of time to just let go and let the Lord into our hearts and minds. 

Only their leader, Mother Cecelia, knows about their huge success.  She said in a short video that she could certainly tell the women what has happened -- that they are famous -- but it wouldn't change anything at all. 

They have a website that is also worth looking up:  http://www.benedictinesofmary.org.  They put out a newsletter and from this it would seem that they grow things, they have laying hens, and they create vestments and altar clothes, among other religious clothing items.  It is a very busy group.

Because music draws me to the Lord so often, I went ahead and purchased both CDs.  After I've listened for a while, I'll let you know my impressions.  Meanwhile, you can hear some snippets of their work by checking online. 

Have a very blessed Tuesday!!