LOOKIT!

Look what I won! Ok, more accurately, look what my nice friend gave me because she's nice, even though I spend most of our relationship coveting her power tool skills and her garden and her ability to make it rain just by having me over to her house:

They're memory cards, yo. :) You can get your own here. These mine. You no have.

Further Insight

And then this exchange yesterday:

Sister [holding a squirmy V]: Ugh, this is exhausting! I’m not getting married until I’m thirty five!!!

Swiss Army Knife Boy: But you can’t have babies then.

Sister: Oh, yes I can! Mrs. Phillips had her last one when she was in her fifties!

Original Work

Going through the reams of information they want me to fill out in order to register V in the childcare programs on base. The good news is, once I've done it, it is done forever. The bad news is, I'm not really sure its worth the effort. Still, everyone says it is a good idea to have that backup, "just in case." I can imagine a couple just in cases, so here I am. It feels like an application to be a federal judge or something. Bureaucracy. Sigh.

Also in today's news, my brother was born today. Twenty one years ago. I am getting old.

Not much else happening. I got a 95% on my bibliography for class, which made me relax considerably. I have tons of work to do, including but not limited to reading a stack of books taller than my son, but I think I can handle. Joseph says I'm overthinking this entire class experience, that I'm doing fine, and that I need to relax. He's probably right, but the bar feels so high anyway.

Speaking of highs and lows, I'm freezing my stinkin' accessories off in the house this morning--never, never understand my complains about late afternoon heat to imply that the a/c doesn't work. It works. It works wonders. We have to wear robes and slippers and hats until about noon every day--but no amount of "it works" can compete with nature. By 2pm, its 76 degrees and counting. Thus, no altering of the thermostat to save those early morning tootsies. We suffer in silence.

Wholesale Thievery

The following is something my husband wrote in response to another blog's posting about the inaction following Vatican II (i.e. inaction that led to the extreme abuses we see today) being largely the part of the faithful, because they didn't stand up and object to what was going on. You can get the rest of the gist of the post from what's written below--the original post can't be accessed to link to or I'd have done that.

Laying any blame on the laity for a supposed inaction is dangerous.

We are sheep, and if you've ever seen a sheep, sheep are lost without a shepherd. It is not the sheep's fault it wanders off, it is a failure in vigilance on the part of the shepherd.

Look to the military, and strict code of responsbility contained therein. There is a rigor in applying responsibility for failure because our work involves killing, and being killed. I don’t know who said it, but a good quote to thrust home my point: "Let no man's ghost say, ‘if only I had been trained.’" If a Marine or soldier dies because he was not properly prepared by those he was entrusted to for training and education in his craft, then it is those trainers, and educators, those Officers and senior enlisted who bear the responsibility for their death.

The same goes for you as a priest, and every priest. While parents have a weighty responsibility in the education of their children, the liturgy is the primary tool of catechesis. Education in the faith starts and ends in the liturgical life of the Church, the veil as you refer to it in your post. Whether the Ordinary or the Extra-ordinary form of the Mass, it is meant as both a nourishment to the soul, and a lesson to the mind. If a student has a bad teacher, if a Marine or a soldier have bad officers or poor Sergeants, is it their responsibility to go outside the structure given to them to ensure their proper education to ensure what they are getting is right?

You quote Canon Law, which says: ““According to the knowledge, competence, and prestige which [the Christian Faithful] possess, they have the right and even at times the duty to manifest to the sacred pastors their opinion on matters which pertain to the good of the Church and to make their opinion known to the rest of the Christian faithful, without prejudice to the integrity of faith and morals, with reverence toward their pastors, and attentive to common advantage and the dignity of persons.”

What the word “according” seems to mean here is “commensurate.” It is a high ideal to believe the majority of the Church had the knowledge and competence sufficient to even think of raising their voice. In fact, the word competence is key, I think, because it indicates a need for a certain maturity in the faith and awareness before you speak out, again which few possessed and few possess.

How many had an awareness that something was amiss, but did not have the theological or philosophical education (knowledge), or spiritual maturity (competence), or commonly respected personage (prestige) to say anything? How many did? Some, like Evelyn Waugh, and those that Henry Edwards mentions “Some of us, indeed, many of us, did not sit idly by. We did everything we could, to protest the profanation of faith and liturgy that we knew was taking place, in every way we knew that was loyal to Church and Faith and seemed to have any chance of success. We tried a variety of means of both private and public argument and persuasion.”

You say: “Whatever happened to the sensus fidei fidelium acting as a historical counter-balance to the sinfulness and ignorance of the clergy? It was gone.” I say, it was never there in the broad sweeping geist-like manner that you suggest had existed. In particular places at particular times, when the faithful had been led well by their shepherds, yes. But not in a broad-stroke across the Church.

Also, in your blog post, you criticize blind and unthinking obedience, even to false teaching. You say the “The sheep were ordered to become privates on parade, answering responses with the loud voice needed for a “sir, yes sir” and laying aside all traces of a “homey” faith.”

This example is problematic. The only time an ‘aye, sir’ is wrong is when a ‘sheep’ follows his ‘shepherd’ into a danger that the sheep recognizes as such. When the sheep doesn’t know, because he wasn’t properly taught, then the issue is the shepherd, and only the shepherd. In fact, if the Shepherd was mistaught by his shepherd, by the fact that he has taken on a flock, there exists an inherent responsibility for him to ensure he is doing the right thing. The responsibility for the shepherds job still does not rest with the flock. The responsibility of the officer or sergeant does not rest with the private.

As a priest you are not the Centurion who says to his servant “go” and the servant goes insofar as the servant is the laity, and the command has to do with something outside the realm of faith and morals. You are the Centurion when it comes to faith and morals, and the laity are those servants.

Just like a Centurion, you and every other priest often (though not always) have more to lose than the servant, but your calling is to be a servant to those servants. So like the Centurion, you sacrifice the comfort and life that your maturity and potential might have brought you, you sacrifice these things for the trenches. It seems like a paradox, being the servant of servants, it isn’t. You and the laity, all serve God, but you have an authority that allows you to serve the laity for their sake, and for their fulfilling their mission, attaining God. This is just like an Officer who serves the men serving their country. Officers are given authority not to lord it over their men, but to serve their men as their men pursue the goal.

HALLELUIA!!

STOP RIGHT THERE!

That's right, you. Stop. Head yourself over to my good-for-nothing, desert-everyone-here-in-paradise, go-back-to-NOVA buddy's blog. See her cool pictures she takes, and the cool things she makes with them. Follow her blog. Help me win her prize giveaway. I covet the deck of memory cards.

Hurry!!

And it Goes a Little Something Like This

"”Oh, don’t give him the Swiss Army knife. It is probably dirty, and he loves to put everything in his mouth right now.”

“No, it tastes fine!! I know because I put it in my mouth. I can fit a whole tennis ball in my mouth! But the knife tastes ok, except for when the cat has sat on it.”

Alive

Barely, but alive. Spent three fun weeks with my family, a week on the road, enjoyed a GREAT wedding, came home, dealt with computer crash, and am now simply awash in a sea of anti-Church sentiment on the discussion board. It was bound to come up but, good gracious, you’d think that in a discussion of rationality there would be more, well, reason. They can quote the one article we were assigned quite happily and not come up with quite the scads of information attacking Catholicism—but no, they’re delving deep into long-forgotten upbringing, the DaVinci Code, and whatever they’ve read about abuse scandals, and dumped it all down in the form of an “academic” discussion.

Blah. But I’m a week behind in posting because of the trip, I have to say something, and it had better be pretty damn good. No pressure.

3 for a dime, 2 for a nickel

I was so proud of my brother yesterday—he peacefully submitted to the sacrifice of his hard-earned summer Saturday upon the Altar of Grandparents. While I helped Nana put up 8 quarts of peaches (dear me, the amount of sugar God put into that fruit…just amazing) Mike watched V, which is no small task. The little darling wants to “walk” everywhere, all the time, but requires an adult hand to help him along. This is tiresome.

Anyhow. After all that fun was done, we headed to the other grandparents’ for a birthday party, complete with doggies, tomato harvest, and a ride in Big Daddy’s chair. Full days, man. I’m just fried at the end of every single one of them. Whew.

Parenting by Me

Once again, I have only limited communicatory abilities at my disposal, but I feel compelled to imitate a bit and give my thoughts on parenting. Thanks for the inspiration, Sheels (see, you do have a nickname!). :)

My firm and steadfast childrearing principles:

1. Never let your baby eat prescription medicine, spiders, or toothpaste. Caffeine, dirt, cow milk, and paper are ok.

2. Carry your baby until it is too dangerous to do so, because he is so strong and fast he can twist out of even the most loving grasp before you realize it. Alternatively, carry him until he is too heavy. If he really loves you, he’ll figure out a way to follow you around the house on his own.

3. Baby toys are fun because they make appealing noises when smacked against a non-toy surface, such as the table or TV. Only buy one or two, because you will always have a neighbor giving you loads of crap because she’s “done, done, done” having babies of her own. These do not need to be natural, dye-free, or hypo-anything. Your baby doesn’t care.

4. Allergies (with several obvious and deadly exceptions) are silly.

5. Trust your dentist before you trust your pediatrician. He’s probably a better parent than she is, anyhow.

6. The benefits of co-sleeping are: more sleep for mommy, more sleep for mommy, and more sleep for mommy.

Me vs. The Relativists: continued

Sorry for the long no-post. Times change, plans alter, etc etc. I'm home with family for a couple weeks, then off to The Great Wedding in Oklahoma. You never know where I'm going to turn up, eh?

So school continues to be interesting. I like the freedom of schedule that online classes afford, but I'm starting to sense a real evil embedded in the system. Namely, I have to spend soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo much time reading the comments and thoughts of classmates (which may or may not be useless, some of these people are men after my own heart), that I don't have the time to read packet materials. I was told to expect 10 hours per week per class, but I had no idea that meant 9 hours reading message board nonsense, and 1 hour cramming in all these modernist articles.

Ah me. Don't expect scads of blogging for the next, oh, ten years or so.

Well, cripes.

Went to start my first assignment this afternoon, which happens to be a précis of my research intent for the class, and lo and behold.

After two peaceful, unpestered years.

The unthinkable happened.

The entire heading format, to include date and assignment title, wafted across my synapses, complete with the crinkle of vade mecum in my ears.  Gasp.  It’s happening to me!!  I’m turning back into a student!  Help!

Revisionista

So, if I am to fit in to this broad academic world I’ve put myself back in (why I did so isn’t readily coming to mind at the moment), I must toss aside a number of antiquated notions I possess.  Among them are:

1. Absolute Truth exists

2. God exists

3. Marx was an idiot

4. There is, in fact, such a thing as the “right answer”

5. Hegel was an idiot

 

It turns out, real academes are firmly of the opinion that no one can have a firm opinion about history, because no one can look at history objectively.  This much, I agree with—one cannot conduct a totally unbiased survey of the past.  However, I got no issues with deciding that the Judeo-Christian survey is the best one.  My professors would beg to differ.

Sorry 'Bout Dat

So, perhaps I shouldn't just go posting when I happen to have a spare moment and thought. Something sad and depressing might get left at the top of the blog. Here's something much happier and enjoyable to be left at the top of the blog:

Brokenhearted

So, into day four of a non-sleeping cycle with ye childing. Not sure what's precipitating all this, but it is becoming a deadly sort of awfulness.

Ugh. I hope he knows that it hurts me much more than it hurts him. :(

Feast of Saints Peter and Paul

Or, as the lector at my home parish inevitably proclaimed each Sunday morning: "Saint Peters and Pauls!"

A high feast, a grand day. I remember pretty vividly the experience of the parish's 150th Anniversary celebration, complete with professional film crew documenting both the no-holds-barred Mass, as well as the following dinner at the downtown convention center. That was close to ten years ago, which shocks me silly. I'm getting so old!

Today holds no such fanfare for me. I'm off to Mass momentarily, then taking little spawn to the library to cycle through another dozen or so "Juvenile--Easy" books. Hopefully we'll meet Daddy somewhere in there, for lunch or a near approximation of it. I haven't left the house since 0930 on Sunday, and the time has simply come. Get out or else.

With Firm Purpose

So, I start classes a week from Monday, working toward a Master of Arts degree, in Military History.  Laugh if you must, snicker, giggle, guffaw.  Pick your verb.  To be honest, I wasn’t one hundred percent sure when I began the pre-preparation-process why it was I had chosen this particular type of degree, with this particular concentration.  However, a couple trials by fire have confirmed me in my purpose.  I’m going for it, I have good reason, and I wish myself well.

Also, when I finish this post I’m going to look at my options for changing the blog format a little.  I mean, this format is “me”, if you will, but perhaps it could be a little more, well, girly, and yet still be me.  Perhaps not.  We shall see.

More Webcam Fun

Please 'scuse my big old arm in the shot. You never know when some kind of dramatic happening will necessitate the ending of a recording in record-lightning-reflex time. Anyway. This is my son, enjoying the table. Really enjoying it.

Where else?

So, once a week I decide to put on makeup, usually for no good reason. I put on makeup for the days when it will rain, or on days when I'm going to be outside and getting all sweaty, or on days when V and I take three naps instead of one, so I have baggy mascara eyes by 11am.

Today is makeup day. I wasn't sure where to put the baby so I could keep an eye on him...

Happy Anniversary!

So, Spouse wanted special attention on the blog the other day, because he did something funny. I asked him if that was really the way he wanted my millions of faithful viewers to remember him, and he said yes. So, here goes.

He went to get a refill from the coffee pot (which was on the counter, where it belongs, full of hot coffee), and spent five minutes standing staring into the fridge, wonder why he couldn’t remember what it was he had gone in there to get. So, there we go. Moment of fame for my very special doofus, who has been married to me two whole years as of today, and has neither killed himself, myself, nor gone insane. Pretty impressive.