If

If prayers are measured or weighed in lbs. of frosting, then our cake for Claire is worth a couple of novenas. Before you think you'll pass out in a diabetic coma just from looking at this cake, I have to say that, in fact, it tasted better than it looks. Really! I'm reminded of the Footsteps Prayer. You know the one where the supplicant and Jesus have a conversation and in the end Jesus fills her in on a little secret: that solitary set of footprints in the sand aren't a sign that He abandoned her, but that He has been carrying the soul all along. When I was young , I did appreciate that people offered to pray for me. I knew that I needed them. But, now that I'm over 50, prayers take on a whole new significance. Partly because I know now how life can throw us curveballs. but also partly because I know how much the older folks love the younger ones and how much we want life to be sweet and full of blessing. Our prayers are fervent. It is a funny aspect of youth that life is experienced as if one walked alone ... but the experience of age is that one knows how dependent one is on: God's grace, the generosity of others, the presence of angels, the good condition of new appliances, the inspiration of new life, on your dentist, patient drivers, and the mercy of so many... for the youngsters and the oldsters, for faith in that companion's presence through it all.

this is going to be a squeeze! These pictures are for Robbie, and for Jennie and Alison Johnson. Backatcha Robbie! and Jennie, since you exhorted me to take pictures, I did! These were taken in our front yard. We don't get a lot of sun in the front yard, so life there is not as exuberant as it was in our front yard in Livermore. I am very grateful for what does burst forth here. We just planted a few lavender plants and another drought tolerant grey leafed with blue flowers plant whose name I can't remember. Maybe the deer won't eat them. The lemon tree/bush is under the eaves which is good for protection from frost, but not so good for sun exposure. We had to protect it from an ant attack last summer. It's a very old shrub but it keeps producing fruit. I'm hoping to make marmalade when there's a lull in the action. It's spring!

senior ball

well, guess what? John's going to the senior ball. A senior girl asked him! This semester has been one of firsts for him. He got his driver's license and drives himself to school now. He got his braces off a few wks ago. He will be Confirmed in May. Now, he's going to a formal dance in April. His godson is making his First Communion too! in May. Yesterday, he got to play singles for the first time in a league match. In the midst of his life, he's required to do service as preparation for his Confirmation. Hmmm. Anybody got any ideas for what John can do for service? How about ... could he just grow up and continue being John?

offering it up

Pictured: the first Sweet William bloom on flowers grown from seed last fall.

This evening I proposed to John that he "offer it up". He was dreading going to his Confirmation class tonight! "The other kids are so *****." I offered my sympathy. The more vocal members of this class are mostly interested in hearing their own voices and apparently have little to say. I remember those days being stuck in a room with my peers and not being able to flee. Of course, it doesn't help that John's brother is home for spring break and only for a little while. He'd rather be with Billy hangin out and watching edifying films like "Role Models". Anyway, I shared with him the notion of "offering it up", which the nuns and my mother used to recommend. My mother usually suggested it when I was whining about something. I have to say even then I did welcome the notion. It was something I could hang on to... that my suffering and pain, my frustration or simple inconvenience wasn't for nothing. I could couple it to the suffering of Christ and thereby elevate it.. and I could share in the suffering that all mankind endures at points. As I offered this to John I realized that it would behoove me to practice this discipline myself. AND HOW! This Lent has been hardly Lenten for me. So, now my own voice, informed by the nuns and my mother, is echoing in my head ... "offer it up."

between patrick and joseph

It's march 18th, 2009. Yesterday was the feast of St. Patrick and tomorrow is the feast of St. Joseph. According to the Church calendar, today is the feast of St. Cyril of Jerusalem, bishop and doctor of the Church having lived in the late 300's. His writing still exists ... some of which is aimed at catechumens during Lent in anticipation of Easter baptism. I find it very touching that a bishop 1900 years ago wrote to his pupils, or his flock, explaining the essential truths of the Catholic faith. How foreign did his ideas about the Real Presence of Christ in the bread and wine seem to those neophytes? How lovely were those truths to citizens of that era? What was their experience of the "good news"? What explained their eagerness at taking the leap of faith? I have always felt priveleged to witness the rites surrounding the RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults?) process, and most especially to hear their stories. Their faith has always strengthened my own. In gratitude for their teachers, their sponsors, and for the faithful in the trenches who every day struggle to live out their vocations. To all the saints! Herewith, Cyril:
www.byzcath.org/.../St%20Cyril%20of%20Jerusalem

happy saint patrick's day

This day used to only make me nervous because if you didn't wear green, you got pinched. My family didn't celebrate "being Irish" so there wasn't a fuss at home. No green cupcakes or green beer. We did have the traditional corned beef and cabbage, but no Irish soda bread. Potatoes, too of course. The whole house smelled like corned beef. And guess what? My house is heading in that direction soon. I would feel like the truest party pooper if I didn't honor this saint's day by steaming up the house with simmering spiced beef. One thing about St. patrick that is i think true is that his hagiography doesn't include a lot of suffering. He wasn't a martyr and he didn't heal lepers. This may account for part of his worldwide appeal. He was a persuasive and charismatic leader i think. He is credited with ridding Ireland of snakes. He brought Christianity to the Emerald isle, to people who took to it like a duck to water. I wish that I could meet the man and see what aspect of Christianity he most fervently cherished and reflected to the people then. I think I'll read up on him more today. Here, a part of St. Patrick's "Breastplate" Prayer:

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me,Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me,Christ on my right, Christ on my left,Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, Christ when I arise,Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me,Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks of me,Christ in every eye that sees me,Christ in every ear that hears me.

Thank you, St. Patrick and thank you God for this great saint.

indian/pakistani restaurant

We had dinner last night at a restaurant on College Ave. The food was delicious and the atmosphere friendly and relaxed. There was an interesting mural above our table just below the big round sky light. As we studied it we made the discovery that many of the figures in the drawing were in some pose of copulation. Hmmm. We wondered if we were seeing what we thought we were seeing? Yep-per! So, when our wait person came by I asked her where this art came from? She explained that they are images found in many temples (I presume in India or Pakistan) I commented that we didn't really have anything like that in Christian churches... and she, without missing a beat, with water pitcher in mid pour, smiled and said "maybe it's in your future!" Maybeeeeee! I've had some exposure to Hindu gods and goddesses and they are strange and foreign to my Western sensibilities. But, it does occur to me that there is a comfort or an acknowledgement of the power of sex and sexuality there that I wonder if we try to ignore. I'm just sayin'. It strikes me that our culture still doesn't seem to have a very mature understanding of sexuality. No culture has the complete corner on this issue.

I bought all of their CD's

Pete and I did a rare thing last night. We went to a concert. And on a school night! We saw Alasdair Fraser and Natalie Haas. They played at Freight and Salvage in Berkeley for a small audience which was great for us. But they deserve HUGE audiences because they are such a treat. They played Scottish reels, minuets, and contemporary Scottish music, some composed by Alasdair himself... all of it lovely and some of it really foot stomping, sway and bob in your seat fun. He is charming and brings out the most in his 350 year old fiddle and Natalie is the best accompaniment with her sturdy and strong heartbeat of a cello. I looked at their schedule: they are all over the globe. Evidently they have some connections in Spain, in Canada, and of course in Scotland galore. If they are in our vicinity I will go out of my way to see them again. They will be in Sepastopol in the fall.

not proactive enough

We're going to write a letter to the oral surgeon explaining what happened as a consequence of his professional help, and we're going to let it go. Robbie's mouth is fine. After a yr and a half of intermittent swelling and infection and a large outlay of money and exploratory surgery that resolved the issue, we have decided to forego the call to the lawyers and let it go. Chances are that we wouldn't receive any recompense or satisfaction by pursuing it, and the wear and tear to our souls is not worth it. Bad things do happen.. and sometimes we are the victims. The salt in the wound is the arrogance demonstrated by the dr. Oh well. I intend to tell him what happened as he is unaware because we severed ties with him when he offered no interest in resolving the issue. Until I speak my truth/our truth, I won't feel that I've done my job. For Robbie's sake, I will tell the doctor what happened. This feels like "us" to us. We're not looking for $ or blood, just the truth.

the coaches

Feeling appreciative of the men who coach John in tennis. He spent three days in Fresno this weekend with his team and this picture has captured two of them before their double's match. I've always prayed for men of faith who would be mentors for our boys. Here pictured Coach Ken doing the fist pump (a la Oakland A's) with John and Coach Jim, with whom John will be also going to Costa Rica in June. The director of John's Confirmation program is also a man of faith. Gratitude abounds. Oh, and did I mention that Uncle Mike drove to Fresno with Pete to watch John and high school tennis, 2009? My cup overflows! Praise God from whom all blessings flow... sung.

two blondes

I dreamt two nights ago that Robbie was having a stare off with another tall blonde male in a speedo. They were kinda leaning into eachother without touching and with no facial expression staring into the others eyes with determination not to flinch or back down. It makes me laugh to remember. What is that about?

view from my window

March 1, 2009. The calm between the storms. This is the view from my bedrooom window looking westward. Maybe if you click on the photo the pink in the sky will show more. I'm finding myself drawn more and more to pink. I wrote about the acolyte's fuschia nail polish on Sunday. I bought myself some pink unmentionables (I love that expression!) and the pink sky caught my eye. According to one source: pink = love. Well, who wouldn't be attracted to that! Thinking about a lot of people and wishing they were "in the pink": Evelyn, Nanette, Dana, Robbie, my father, Jackie. I guess I'm wishing that they each know how much they are loved and therefore "in the pink".

sich Obama on em

After years of no real adult leadership, it feels like our president is at least acting like an adult who knows he's responsible to lead. And he's taking it seriously. I can't think of any institution in the world whose leadership makes me proud to follow. The church has been besmirched (is that the word?), national politics has integrity problems, the parish priests are poorly prepared to pastor a diverse and half-female flock, and I have to wonder: when you deny women a seat at the table, what do you expect? I saw a moment today at mass: one of the FEMALE acolytes in her duties near the altar, was handing the priest the clear glass chalice. The snapshot I caught and hold in my mind's eye was of her two hands offering the chalice to the priests outstretched hands.. The priest received the chalice from her. Her young adolescent hands sported bright fuschia nail polish. Beautiful! (It turns out the night before was the 8th grade Father/Daughter dance and both girl acolytes had evidently painted their nails for the event.) The phrase that popped into my head as I beheld this scene: "Church, what are you afraid of?" Lovely young woman threatens celibate priest with her femininity. What a tremendous and terrible loss. I'll not forget those hands.