Strap me on, Jesus

I often hear dedicated Christian men and women respond to difficult circumstances with probing, examination and wrestling. "Why is God bringing (or allowing) this in my life?" we ask. "What lesson am I supposed to be learning?" "What did I do that earned me this punishment?"

Sometimes, misfortune can be traced to sinful or stupid actions of our own. But often, life just brings hurts, injury, trauma or betrayal because it does. Tragedies occur. Injustices can seem to run unchecked. Misfortune floods us or a loved one in an unremitting stream. We're reminded that there are only sinners to work with, befriend, or marry. We ask why. Not politely or gently; no, we pound the pavement and scream, "God, what are you thinking!"

Or it's not that dramatic. We're in a dreadful job with a boss who sucks the joy out of the room, but we can't speak up because we're afraid of being laid off. We made a serious mistake in choosing a marriage partner, and now the future looks bleak; it seems to contain only a never-ending struggle. Our health may be fragile, we're almost always in pain and we can't sleep. Or we have a child with serious emotional and learning problems, and get tired of how everyone raises their eyebrows in our direction, hoping we'll get the hint that we should be better parents.

I have come to believe that the actions of God in my life -- deliberate or permitted -- have one purpose. He wants all the things he brings or allows in my life to make me willing for him to draw me closer to him. He wants me close. He loves being with me, he wills better things for me than I can imagine, and by staying close, I can go where he goes.

I usually have a metaphor, don't I? So here it is: It's as if Jesus is a muscular mountain biker, zooming up and down hills, whipping around corners, and sailing broad curves at top speed. I, well, I'm the little waist pack he's got fastened to the small of his back.

Sometimes, I ask him to loosen the belt. It's a little "confining," I say. I can't see the road ahead to plan my next move. I can't plan. I can't figure it out. "Sure," he says, but then he swoops into a sharp corner, my momentum carries me in the old direction, and I end up with a big case of whiplash. I'm still fastened on, yes, but I'm frayed, bruised and dizzy. And, if I'm particularly unaware, I may ask him "Hey, what's the idea?"

But if I'm fastened firmly to him, I automatically go where he goes. The closer I am, and the more I nestle close, the more cushioned I am by his body (or Body). I learn to understand what it means when his muscles tense up a bit -- he's ready to make a move. And his voice comes to me by direct contact; his words aren't whipped away by the wind.

That's where I want to be. It takes trust, lots of it. That's why, if you were to overhear me praying, you'd hear me asking for more trust. All the time.

The saga continues

In which (1) conspiracy theories about the origins of Christianity are debunked, and (2) it is demonstrated that Lutherans have a sense of humor.

Eureka!

For quite a while, I've been reading atheist blogs. Although many seem to subscribe to the PZ Myers philosophy of "make enough vulgar jokes about stereotypical religion and the battle will be ours!", I've finally found one worth following.

Leah at Unequally Yoked is a lifelong skeptic who brought her vigorous debate with her Catholic boyfriend into the blog world. What distinguishes her from many, both Christian and atheist, is her willingness to engage in discussion on important issues, listen to contrary points of view, and to consider truth worth the effort of honest pursuit and engagement. 

Occasionally, Leah offers evidence that she understands the nuances of the Catholic faith better than many Catholics.

The purpose of Catholic morality isn't to give you an answer key to look up the right answers to all moral quandaries; the real goal is to inculcate the right kind of attitude and experience to lead you to pick out the right answer and understand why it's right.  It's a lot harder, but a lot truer than the list-of-answers approach.

See why I think she's good? Her statements on atheism are likewise well considered, respectful of the variety of points of view, and generally cogent. An added benefit is the cadre of intelligent commenters she's gathered. Combox discussions keep me going back.

A good example is her post on miracles. Not only is the post itself worth reading, but the comment thread evolved into a deep discussion of . . . well, you'll just have to check it out yourself.

Quick Takes - Roz's quirky gratitude list

In honor of the approach of Thanksgiving in the U.S., here are some things that may be unusual to find on a gratitude list:

I am grateful that

1. Sometimes, people who don't impress me at first as being anything special turn out to be wonderful.
   
2. That Jesus went ahead and ushered me into the fullness of fellowship with the Trinity despite the fact that, at the time, I considered him pretty lucky that I'd gotten around to believing in him.
   
3. That my children are a lot of fun to be around.
   
4. That I never got embroiled in a truly awful romantic relationship.
   
5. That I get to go to the Adoration Chapel at my church, and -- look -- there he is! Jesus.
   
6. That, during a trip to Rome, I accidentally ended up at Mass at Santa Maria della Vittoria and got to spend the time gazing at this instead of listening to Marty Haugen music at the church across the street.
   
7. That Cabbage Patch dolls taught me that something homely can be truly beautiful.

Don't forget to stop by Conversion Diary, the godmother of 7 Quick Takes, so you can see what other bloggers are quickly taking.

I don't know

I'm not sure how to write this post. It may go through many iterations and lose these first lines. It's not often I have an experience leaves me with confused emotions that can't quite sort through right away. But that is me, now. I got (figuratively) socked in the solar plexus last weekend, and I'm still sucking air.

The weekend itself was very good. My high school class met for our 40-year reunion. It was a bit of a shock to my system to stroll by the homecoming game and realize that my own children are all far too old to have been playing in that game. But, chagrin at the passage of time aside, it was very good to connect with the people who share memories with me that no one else holds. "Roz at 15" is nothing I particularly want to put up on display, but it is part of me, and the connection with my cohort, and particularly some old friends, was a good thing. 

The dismay comes from encountering a friend's experience of those 40 years and realizing the brush I myself had with calamity.

My experience

Chris wasn't a particularly close friend; I didn't travel in the sphere of cheerleaders and Homecoming Court candidates. But she was bubbly, likable, and kind. We might chat if we had a class together, but that was about it. In the fall of our senior year, she and a number of other girls from my high school began to get involved in a religious group whose focus was keeping kids off drugs and getting to know Jesus. Though reared a Catholic, I hadn't paid much attention to my faith since I was confirmed and was of the opinion that the evidence for the truth of Christianity was pretty thin. But when one of the girls, someone who wouldn't normally go out of her way to talk to me, invited me to go to one of the meetings, I agreed.

I found an extremely warm and dynamic group of the most non-loser type of teens I'd ever met. They were enthusiastic, prone to shaking hands with vigor, and they talked about Jesus as if he was personally the most exciting thing that had ever happened to them. To say I was intrigued is an  understatement.

We sat cross-legged on the linoleum tile floor of a small church of a denomination I'd never heard of. At the front of the room were four guys who looked to be in their 20s, scruffy enough to be credible to teens in 1969. One of them was a good guitarist—people sang songs I have no memory of now.  You'd think I could remember what actually went on at the meetings, but I don't. There was talk about scripture and what it meant (occasionally including a super-spiritualized interpretation of a single verse out of context), talk about how God really will speak to us today, etc. I liked it a lot. The part of me who was seeking for God, love, connection and meaning responded. I began to lean into believing.

I still struggled with a rational basis for belief. I asked questions about specific scriptures—I remember that people took the time to answer me, but I don't remember feeling completely satisfied. Do I really remember the process in my faith and my emotions? No I don't. I can only guess from what I remember of my actions.

There was one meeting when we came to what normally was the end of the activities. A lot of people got up and left, but some of us stuck around, probably because the guys in front were still sitting on the table. One of them said that, since they hadn't actually announced the end of the meeting, the Lord must have meant those other people to leave and us to stay because he had something big in store that was intended for those who remained. I guess we prayed for a while, then one of the leaders began to utter a message in tongues. I don't remember whether I was freaked out by that, but then he or another guy began to speak what he said was an interpretation of what had been said. He addressed individual messages to people in the room. It went on for about 20 minutes. Here and there, a girl began to cry audibly. I was struck by it, but likely my primary emotion was that I felt left out because I wasn't mentioned—I don't know.

More and more, as I hung around with friends from the group, the more dedicated ones would talk about listening to tapes of talks or getting rebaptized. They were thrilled. I was hesitant. I began to back away and eventually stopped going.

The article

About ten years after I graduated, a series of disturbing articles appeared in my hometown newspaper. That group hadn't dissolved; in fact, it had deepened its impact on its members. Many had moved to New Mexico and broken contact with their families. The leader was elusive, members wouldn't talk to the press. There were scattered reports of suicides of people who had left or been expelled from the group. Distraught parents were quoted. On the front page were the smiling senior pictures of seven area women who were among those who had dropped from sight. One of them was Chris.

I was heartsick. I hadn't known her well, but I had been fond of her. Even so, it surprised me to realize how distressed the news made me. Apparently, (I don't recall this), I wrote Chris a letter addressed to the ski resort they'd turned into their enclave. Of course I never got a reply. I prayed for Chris consistently, if not particularly frequently, for the next 30 years. I continue to this day.

Now
I spoke with Chris at the reunion. She left the group (which has apparently since dissolved) in 1998. She goes by another name. They all changed their names several times, coinciding with moving to new locations, and it was too much trouble to go back to her birth name. She remembers with gratitude the letter I wrote her, apologizing that she hadn't been allowed to respond. She is married, apparently happily, and says that she's experienced a huge amount of healing from her experience in what turned into a serious and destructive cult. She has an alive and vibrant faith and is active with her husband in their church.

After I returned home, I pulled out my trust toolbox and looked for more information. I found the series of newspaper articles of which I'd only seen the first one. I found information on web sites concerning indie bands with which that good guitarist had played. I found accounts written by former members. I spent a whole day in front of my computer, absorbing the enormity of the travesty that had been foisted upon men and women who were beloved children of God.

One of the accounts was written by a young man who had been ejected from the group in the mid-1970s. His reports of the rapid deterioration of spiritual sanity and psychological health during the few years he was involved make me dread learning more about what happened in the 20-odd subsequent years that Chris remained and rose to leadership. How can anyone not remain deeply scarred by the deep betrayal of self that would have been necessary? Yet -- God's mercy and power transcends all things. I realize that I don't understand. I'm concerned. I'm not in charge or even directly involved. I trust God.

Me
Until last weekend, when I spoke with Chris and then started learning more, it was all just a vague memory. Now, it feels like present trauma, as if a sniper's bullet had picked off the person standing behind me in line at the bank. In high school, I wanted what Chris wanted -- and more. I wanted to have friends, to be included by people who were more attractive and successful than I, to experience love and acceptance, to know God, to be part of something significant. Chris became trapped -- or trapped herself. I went free, relatively speaking, to an encounter with God and a freshening of faith a mere year or two later.

It could have been me. It wasn't me. I feel a kinship with anyone who was in the World Trade Center on September 10, 2001.

I'm grateful. I'm sad. I'm confused. I'm overjoyed that God delivered Chris and allowed me to be in touch with her again. I'm glad to have another friend Ann whose experience was like mine, so I can talk about it with her. I'm profoundly grateful that my husband cares deeply and is a good listener.

I guess my next steps are to sit with this, allow God to speak to me, and do what I know will help me process it. One of them is writing about it here. Thanks for listening.

Going to the (adoration) chapel

Once again (I'm such a creature of habit) Jenn at Conversion Diary has inspired me. She wrote a piece about Eucharistic adoration I began to write a brief comment. When I hit my fourth paragraph, I decided that it was turning into a blog post instead. Thank you, Jenn. You never fail me.

My parish has a little chapel behind the sacristy where the Eucharist is perpetually exposed. A dedicated and worthy woman makes sure that two people are signed up to be in attendance around the clock, 24/7.  I've always been happy (and perhaps a bit sinfully proud) that our parish is able to support 24-hour adoration, but my original feelings toward the devotion were ambivalent. At first the idea of adoration didn't seem particularly attractive to me. I was afraid I'd be bored if I had to stay a whole hour, and I felt a bit awkward around the outward expressions of -- well -- adoration that I saw around me. People seemed lost in reflection, walked up to slip (I'm sure) self-revealing notes in the bowl beneath the relic of the True Cross, or might prostrate themselves before the monstrance.

Gradually, however, adoration began to mean more and more to me. I decided to sign up for a weekly slot and began to go regularly. At first I wondered what to do. I brought some spiritual reading, I'd say a rosary (that can take up a nice 20 minutes), and worked hard at avoiding distractions. Over time, however, it's become much more organic and natural. I've grown so appreciative that I subsequently signed up for a second slot during the week as well.

But more important than my increased appreciation for it, I've been grateful for its fruit. I've developed a deeper capacity for prayer -- I don't know how to explain it, really. The focus has moved from taking strategic and proactive steps to advance my prayer life, to letting God initiate and lead. Instead of trying to figure out what will work, I simply ask God to draw me into his presence. If I'm distracted or in a funk, I mention it to him and ask for help. I listen for inclinations; if it seems to me that God might be hinting that it would be good to read Scripture (or if my well seems to be running dry) I will shift to reading or other devotions, but always with an awareness that I'm in conversation with the Father.

What I wish I had named this post

I really wanted to call this "How Eucharistic Adoration is like the Wall Street Journal", but I couldn't find a way to write it to fit the title. But that's how I explain the "what's in it for me" of going to Adoration regularly.

When I was in business school, I got in the habit of reading the Wall Street Journal every day. No single issue hit me like a ton of bricks, but over time I realized that I was becoming very well informed about business strategy, marketing, the economy, world events, etc. In the same way, I may never become weak-kneed with piety after any given hour in the chapel. But over time, God and I are stitching together a closer relationship than I'd had with him before. I wouldn't trade it.

How does God want us to ask?

Jennifer at Conversion Diary wrote recently about petitionary prayers - specifically, how particular or targeted we are when we ask for things. She makes a great point: sometimes pointed requests are expressions of faith, but sometimes they are artifacts of our wanting to  be in control ourselves and dictate to the Almighty One the results we want and how we think he should do his job. As she eloquently puts it,  "I notice that, as I move from more-specific to less-specific prayers, I feel within me a change from wanting to be God, to simply wanting God."

Sometimes, though, the opposite happens to me. I examine myself praying as if from the outside, trying to tweak my approach to be the most pleasing, the most holy, the most charitable, the most self-forgetful. (Hah! Self-forgetfulness is exactly what is not happening at that time.) When I catch myself at it, I need to be reminded that my relationship to God is that of his child rather than his choreographer. I can just tell him humbly what I want flat out without embarrassment or pretense. In this spirit, it's not presumption but sweet trust.

An early and memorable example of this was back in 1975. I was a relatively new Christian and newly baptized in the Holy Spirit.  There was to be an International Conference on the Catholic Charismatic Renewal in Rome over Pentecost. Many of my friends were going, but I had procrastinated making the arrangements. When I inquired, I found that the charter flight was fully booked.

I was heartsick. I very much wanted to go, and go on the same plane as my friends. I was in my office after closing time and started to pray. I thought about whether it would advance the kingdom in some way for me to go and whether I deserved to go. It had been my fault, after all, that I was shut out. So I scrambled to find some rational leverage with the Lord.

But by God's grace I finally saw the folly of that. I finally fell on my knees and told God that I really, really wanted to go, and I would really appreciate it if he would work it out. The next morning, of course, I got a call. The 10 or so people on the waiting list ahead of me had backed out, and there was a seat for me if I wanted.

Well, it turns out the kingdom of God was indeed advanced, because this has stayed in my mind as a testimony of God's gratuitous care for me without my deserving or even needing it. But mainly, it reminds me that God is our Father, and he just wants us to talk to him intimately and let him know what's going on with us. He created us for companionship - it must be true that the companionship we're capable of offering him is something he really enjoys.

Worth repeating

"All I can say is thank God for Pope Benedict. Not only is he fending off wolves in sheep's clothing, but he's facing down werewolves dressed as shepherds."

An unnamed blogger on Catholic Light.

I peek around the curtain once again

I won't apologize for my long absence (that would be arrogant and pretentious), nor will I resolve to begin again posting regularly (because my capability of breaking resolutions is well-documented), but I am breaking the ice, dipping my toe in the water, and performing other relevant idioms as I once again apply keyboard to blank screen at Exultet.

I've run across lots of wonderful and memorable things in past months, but for right now I will just start by revisiting some things I've said here before that might be worth reminding myself of.

N.B. The trouble with being an extrovert, you see, is that we develop our thoughts as we are expressing them, and when we're done, we can't completely remember what we said. So, to me, these thoughts are fresh as the morning dew. Pathetic, huh? I hope you enjoy them

Are you caught up in the "oughts"? What like you've got is a feast of blessing that will never grow dry or stale and from which you can help yourself any time you want. You're rich, woman! So, yes. You can read and study, or be still before God's face, or see God in the face of your neighbor, or have long phone calls full of holy hilarity, or whatever.

See, you've hit on one of the things I can get staunch about (until God tells me not to). His job is to steer. Our job is to follow. The choreography of our spiritual development is not our responsibility, but we listen and respond as He trains us how to listen and respond.

Am I lazy or trusting? Who knows? But I trust that God's fully able to change my focus if He wants me to do something else.

A comment on a post by fellow blogger Therese in 2004

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Time magazine's recent (excellent) piece on Mother Teresa's dryness and "dark night" experiences during most of her spiritual walk has made quite a stir. And I have indeed been stirred by the realization that her faithfulness, love and service stemmed completely from grace, not even assisted by those moments of joy and spiritual consolation that most of us think we need in order to keep our spiritual lives on track.

The uber-predictable Christopher Hitchens, who has made a lucrative profession as an Atheist, has a slightly different perspective.

So, which is the more striking: that the faithful should bravely confront the fact that one of their heroines all but lost her own faith, or that the Church should have gone on deploying, as an icon of favorable publicity, a confused old lady who it knew had for all practical purposes ceased to believe?

Well, when all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail. Mr. Hitchens seems to believe that everyone is on the lookout for the Main Chance and is ready to leverage all for personal advantage. Ergo, I believe, his rather energetic and hysterical responses over the years to Mother Teresa as the epitome of all things Christian. More fool, he.

From a post entitled "What is Teresa teaching us?" in 2007

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Thursday morning, Henry and I were at the closing for our new house. Our realtor stepped out to take a cell call and returned to tell us that an offer would be coming over that day on my house [that I had long been trying to sell]. We reviewed it and accepted it that afternoon. So, amazingly enough, in all the 2,912 two-hour periods since I listed the house, God chose that one to bring me an acceptable offer to purchase my own. I love it when God reminds me that he's in charge.

From 2006. I had completely forgotten that "coincidence".

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I tried and failed to excerpt this simply because I'm madly in love with the whole post. Here's "what to look for in a husband."

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And finally, some assorted quotations I've pulled in over the years:

"In point of fact, God is less concerned to make us perfect than to attach us firmly to him."
Jacques Philippe

"Once we accept him, we find we were truly deceived. It was only the skin of the heavenly fruit that seemed bitter. The meat ravishes the soul."
Bishop Sheen

"The act of defending any of the cardinal virtues has today all the exhilaration of a vice."
G.K. Chesterton

[Regarding 9/11] "We all became more considerate, more respectful, more mature, almost instantly. Drivers drove their cars correctly. People held doors for one another. There was the tacit understanding that we were all "in this together." We put ourselves aside. We were as one. We could have moved a mountain. You could see it. You could feel it. It was real.

It only lasted two weeks. After that, we reverted. But to have seen it at all, even once in a lifetime, is a memory worth keeping."
Ed Gurney, on Facebook

It's nice to see you again.

Undiscovered riches

As if the beautiful hymn O Holy Night weren't already glorious enough, I have a little extra-special gift for you as we approach the joys of the Christmas season.

My Dear Husband remarked that the French lyrics of O Holy Night reveal some beautiful theological truths that are missing in the English version. He was kind enough to write them out for me so I can share them with you. Enjoy and be blessed!

Traditional English	From the French
O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining, It is the night of the dear Saviors’ birth. Long lay the world in sin and error pining. Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth. A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices, For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn. Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices! O night divine, the night when Christ was born; O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!	Midnight, Christians, it is the solemn hour When he Man-God descended to us To erase the original stain And to stop the anger of His Father. The whole world trembles with hope At this night which gives it a Savior. People, on your knees! Wait for your deliverance. Noel! Noel! Here is the Redeemer. (2x)
Led by the light of faith serenely beaming, With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand. O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming, Now come the wise men from Orient land. The King of kings lay thus in lowly manger; In all our trials born to be our friend. He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger, Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!	May the burning light of our faith Guide us to the cradle of the Babe. As before a brilliant star Led there the chiefs of the East. The King of kings is born in a humble manger Though powerful in your day and proud of your own grandeur, To that pride, it is from that place that God preaches. Bow your foreheads before the Redeemer. (2x)
Truly He taught us to love one another, His law is love and His gospel is peace. Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother. And in his name all oppression shall cease. Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we, With all our hearts we praise His holy name. Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we, His power and glory ever more proclaim!	The Redeemer has broken every barrier; The earth is free and heaven is open. He sees a brother where there was only a slave. Love unites those whom iron enchained. Who will tell Him our thanks? It is for us that He is born, he suffers and dies. People, stand up! Sing of your deliverance! Noel! Noel! Sing to the Redeemer. (2x)

Lovely person, lovely heart, lovely prayer

While web-meandering today, I followed a trail of breadcrumbs that started with Gregorian Chant sites, moved on to the Benedictines of Mary, Queen of the Apostles and their beautiful description of Mary's dwelling at Ephesus (which I've been privileged to visit); at the bottom of which page can be found the lovely prayer for priests written by Mother Louise-Margaret Claret de la Touche, who is beautifully profiled by Fr. Mark at Vultus Christi. (See honey, I'm not really wasting time at all!)

Fr. Mark posted the beautiful painting by Mother Louise-Margaret that you see here. The more I look at it, the more inspiring I find it.

During this year of prayer for priests, I've seen a number of intercessory prayers for these servants of God, but Mother Louise Margaret's I find especially deep and beautiful, particularly the final paragraph:

O Jesus, eternal High Prist, divine offerer of sacrifice, who in an incomparable act of love for men, your brethren, allowed the Christian priesthood to flow from your Sacred Heart, continue to pour out on your priests the life-giving streams of infinite Love.

Live in them, transform them into yourself, render them by your grace the instruments of your mercies, act in then and through them. Grant that, having been completely clothed with you by the faithful imitation of your virtues, they may perform in your name and by the strength of your Spirit, the works which you yourself have accomplished for the salvation of the world.

Divine Redeemer of souls, see how great is the multitude of those who still sleep in the darkness of error; count the number of those unfailthful sheep that are walking on the edge of the eternal abyss; consider the crowds of the poor, the hungry, the ignorant and the weak who are groaning in their state of abandonment. Return to us by your priests, live again in very truth in them; act through them and pass again through the world teaching, pardoning, consoling, offering sacrifice, renewing the sacred bonds of love between the Heart of God and the hearts of men. Amen.

What is faith?

Atheism must hold that there is no possibility of God, or a god, or supreme being, or anything supernatural.

Agnosticism says "Could be -- we don't know."

Seeking says, "Could be -- we don't know, but I want to learn more."

Hope says, "It looks like there might be."

Faith says, "He found me."

Archbishop Chaput's recommended reading list

. . . has 26 books. Good books. See the list here.

Quick takes - Great quotes from Bishop Fulton Sheen

Click on the post-it to head over to Conversion Diary's quick-takes gathering place.

I find that a number of great quotations from Bishop Sheen have found their way into my notebook. So I present them here for you to run deliciously through your fingers.

(1) Truth must be sought at all costs, but separate isolated truths will not do. Truth is like life; it has to be taken on its entirety or not at all. . . . We must welcome truth even if it reproaches and inconveniences us -- even if it appears in the place where we thought it could not be found.

(2) Nothing is more harmful to a man than his resistance to Grace.

(3) So much do the will and its sin become wedded together that a soul will say, "Let me alone. I made my bed and I will lie in it."

(4) Those who hate Truth and fear Goodness are not far from the kingdom of God. They are fighting against it, and yet they know theirs is a losing battle. The more violently men hate truth, the more they think about it; the more they fear the goodness that demands perfection, the more they know it is what they really seek.

(5) Once we accept him, we find we were truly deceived. It was only the skin of the heavenly fruit that seemed bitter. The meat ravishes the soul. . . At first glance, God seems to be taking away our happiness, but in the moment of surrender we discover he has deceived us. He has merely taken away the dross to give us the gold of his eternity.

(6) Sin was the act by which man refused to see created things for what they were -- stepping stones to God, a means to an end -- and began instead to clutch at them as ends in themselves. That is what sin is, still. As a man loves his sense of humor when he cannnot see the point of a pun, so he loses his humor in its entirety when he ceases to see the point of the universe, which is that all things are revelations, symbols, reminders of God who made them. To take things as ends in themselves is to overrate them, treating them with a solemnity which is not warranted.

(7) Every person carries in his heart the blueprint of the one he loves.

Committing an act of citizenship

Today I sent e-mails to my Congressional Representative and the two Senators representing Michigan. I don't expect any of them to be remotely swayed by my urgings, but one does what one can and leaves the rest to God.

Here's the text of what I wrote to my representative:

To the Honorable John Dingell:

Re: Health Care reform

It is of vital importance that the eventual legislation has:

(1) Explicit broad conscience protection provisions for health care workers and health-providing institutions in the areas of abortion provision and end-of-life issues.

(2) Clear and explicit prohibitions against any -- ANY -- federal financing of abortion services.

Therefore I urge you to support the Stupak amendment and to see to it that the bill's Rule enables a vote on this amendment.

In the absence of protections, the eventual bill should be opposed.

We're paying attention.

Thank you for your service.

Rosalind Dieterich
Ann Arbor, MI

If you would like to e-mail your public servants, the "Contact" page for members of the Senate is here, and the (bit more cumbersome) one for House members can be found here.

The truth packs a lot of clout

Abby Johnson worked for eight years at the Bryan, TX office of Planned Parenthood, the last two as its Director. She piloted the nonprofit through a tough economy, realizing that it had to change its business model from an emphasis on prevention, which wasn't going to pay the bills. "The money wasn't in family planning, the money wasn't in prevention, the money was in abortion."

Then she watched an ultrasound of an abortion procedure.

On October 8 of this year, she submitted her resignation. Johnson has been meeting with the Executive Director of Bryan's Coalition for Life and has participated in praying outside her former workplace.

Full story here.

Hat tip: Curt Jester

Friday quick takes: Blogger Colleagues Edition

Click on the post-it to head over to Conversion Diary's quick-takes gathering place.

1. Gotta love Enbrethiliel. Like me, she can't just blog one way. She's the hostess of Sancta Sanctis, a great Catholic blog, but adds the personality-filled Shredded Cheddar to boot. She may just be serious about her tag-line: "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you odd." (My own quirky side is on display at In Dwelling.)
   
   
2. Another fun dual-personality is TSO. You must know him from his unspellable Video meliora, proboque; Deteriora sequor, the only blog I know where the title is longer than the URL. It's also the home of "Spanning the Globe", in which every Catholic blogger worth his salt strives to earn a mention. TSO lets his ya-yas out over at Parody is Therapy. (I'm not letting cats out of bags, am I sir?
   
   
3. For a good time, go over to Karen Edmisten and do a search for posts with the label Ramona. Ramona is her 7-year-old daughter with an amazing talent for coming out with quotable nuggets that are both profound and hysterical. An example:

   Me: Hey, Ramona -- you played a lot in your room earlier today. Are we going to be able to find your bed when it's bedtime?
   
   Ramona: Ummmm ... maybe not. I can guarantee you my room is not in tip-top shape.
   
   Me: Well, let's take a look.
   
   After surveying the bountiful clothing coverage -- both dress-up and the real stuff -- in her room, Ramona observed,
   
   Ramona: All it really needs is some hamperage.

4. I very much enjoy reading whatever Mr. and Mrs. Darwin write over at Darwin Catholic, but I am especially charmed by the comments Mrs. Darwin makes on blogs here and there. I wish she'd collect and catalog them.
   
   
5. Genevieve Kineke blogs at Feminine Genius (which I absolutely must remember to get up on the sidebar blogroll). However, she is also the author of The Authentic Catholic Woman (on my Wish List) and articles, including this one entitled "Choices Last".
   
   It was good timing for me to read the article because I've just been finishing the classic Kristin Lavransdatter, a superb portrayal of one young woman's journey of finding out exactly what the long-term consequences are of some key choices. Great juxtaposition.


6. The American Papist is a good source of Catholic news and commentary. He has the ability to be witty without being "snarky", a rare talent. Here's an example from a recent post:

   Someone should tell the folks writing NARAL's petitions that marijuana isn't legal (yet). They actually have posted a petition - and almost 32,000 people have signed it - which reads in part:
   
   "Anti-choice extremists at the Family Research Council are launching an outrageous media and lobbying campaign claiming that Congress' health-care reform bills will deny seniors the medical care they need in order to pay for abortion."
   
   Yes, you read that correctly - NARAL is worried that seniors might lose their medical coverage for abortion.

   [Ed. note: Perhaps this offers evidence, at least in the case of NARAL members, the sex education of their day may well have been inadequate.]


7. Finally, you've heard me talk about "Two Ways of Renouncing the Devil" before. As I said in a comment there, she has knack for wondering about things that would never have crossed my mind. So cruise on over there if you've every wondered about the Ethics of Gift Cards. And just in time for the holiday giving season, too.

Quick takes for no particular reason

I'm usually really busy on Thursdays, so I keep missing the "Friday Quick Takes" tradition that got started over on Conversion Diary. It's been so long since I posted that I'm going to just break into your day with bits of whatever has been striking my fancy lately. It's mostly practical stuff, but we'll lead off with a quotation from the esteemed Cardinal George on the American Catholic Church.

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"Liberals are critical of [authority], although they’ll use it when they’re in power. Conservatives would tend to be less critical, but equally dependent upon it. Consequently, when you get into the church, you get the conservatives unhappy because bishops aren’t using power the way they’re supposed to, the way they want them to. You get liberals who are unhappy because [the bishops] have any power at all. Both of them are defining themselves vis-à-vis the bishops rather than vis-à-vis Christ, who uses the bishops to govern the church. It’s not a Christ-centered church, as it’s supposed to be, it’s a bishop-centered church."

Francis Cardinal George

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It's my belief that one of the most significant spiritual gifts is a profound love for children. My husband has it. I don't, although I have always deeply loved my own children and grandchildren. There are many kids of whom I am quite fond when I've gotten to know them, but love for Children as a genre is foreign to me. For Henry, it's another matter entirely. Put a couple of babies in the pew in front of us, and he's hard pressed to tear himself from charming them enough to pay attention to the homily.

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If you haven't yet gotten turned on to Paperback Swap, hie thee hence immediately. You offer the books (both paper and hardbound) that you no longer want and earn credits that you can use for requesting books that others have offered. (After you post your first 10 books, you get two credits as a "welcome" gift to get you started.) I have a wonderful stack of books waiting for me right now. There is no richer feeling. Plus, I've greatly enhanced my professional library with books that, I suspect, were required reading in college courses somewhere but which will actually now do somebody some good.

Hint: We had a stash of Christian romance novels we acquired as left-behinds from formerly-teenaged daughters. (In family parlance, we refer to them as "Christian bodice-rippers", but don't tell anyone.) They were wildly popular on the swap market. Some of our more staid books haven't moved quite as quickly, but you never know. But now I know what to look for next time I go to one of those "buck-a-box" book sales in the basement of the library.

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Have I mentioned before my deep and abiding affection for my Tivo? Just saying. It protects my priorities -- I never am tempted to run home from somewhere to catch the opening scenes of Lie to Me.

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Have I mentioned before my deep and abiding affection for Facebook? It's easy as pie to have casual conversations with kids and friends and keep reasonably up to date with "what's up" with them. It's now the standard place to find pictures of my granddaughters. And I'm reconnecting with old friends from years back I never would have found otherwise. Yes, it can be a time sink, so be warned.

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Another "have you discovered?" item: If you have an Amazon wish list, you may not be aware that you can add a button to your browser that will add any item from any site, anywhere, to your wish list at Amazon. This way, you can keep all the things you have your eye on in one place. I wish this had been in place when I was getting married and setting up a bridal registry.

I can imagine it would have other private uses, too, such as keeping track of cars you're considering purchasing and the like. I suppose Delicious and other bookmarking sites are better for this sort of thing, though.

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As you may be able to tell, I'm crazy for online productivity tools. Happy to share what I know with anyone. Any time. Anywhere. Feel free to ask me to stop.

POSTSCRIPT The Biebl Ave Maria I talked about in the last post? The choir sang it yesterday as a meditation at the end of communion. Henry, I and our sore throats were in the congregation. It was -- wow. That's all I can say. It was "anointed" as they say in charismatic circles. And I was speechless, which doesn't happen often.

A refreshing musical break

Here's a beautiful rendition of the newly-popular Ave Maria by Biebl. Our parish choir is singing a version for mixed choir later this month. I can't wait.

Padre Pio

Julie says: "It was a photo of him with his head thrown back laughing that first made me notice him. I thought, 'Now there is someone I could talk to...that is what a real saint should look like.'"

Happy feast day, Padre Pio and all his fans.