I love little kids and the way they hear things. Sara Donnoe sent me some quotes from little children that triggered this blog.
From three year old Alicia: "Our Father, who does art in heaven, Harold is His name".
And a four year old's take on the most perfect prayer: "And forgive us our trash baskets, as we for give those who put trash in our baskets".
Our mother grew up on South Eastern Illinois and attended the Church of Christ. She said one time, that as a child they would sing the refrain to an old hymn: Onward, Christian Soldiers, marching as to war, With the cross of Jesus, marching on before.
When she was young, she thought they were saying" "the cross-eyed Jesus" and couldn't understand if Jesus could heal people, why He couldn't do something about His own eyes.
Judy and I were talking recently about when we were kids and there would be a beautiful service in the Church, such as Forty Hours that would be all in Latin. There were always a lot of priests up on the Altar and they would be saying a Litany, One priest would lead it and the others answer him in Latin: "Ora Pro Nobis" - Pray for us - but that it sounded like they were saying: "Oh rah PRO no biss" or to our young ears, "Oh, rotten apples".
One of my best memories is picking up 5 year old nephew, Chris, from Kindergarten and he told us - Maureen and his little brother, Mike were also in the car - that he had learned the Pledge of Allegiance that day. My heart remembers that little fellow standing in the back seat on the hump that ran under the middle of the car, with his hand on his chest, Maureen and Mike watching him in awe, reciting what he had heard but not exactly in the way I had learned it. I remember I had a hard time keeping a straight face because he was so earnest in his delivery, but oh, how I wish I could remember his exact words.
So, to all of you with young children or grandchildren, in these days of high tech, record these times, so that the words become part of the memories.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Thursday, December 27, 2012
Detailing The Bill
Some years back, while having lunch with my friend, Edie - who at the time was Bishop John Myers secretary - she told me that there were all kinds of papers and such in file cabinets in a back room of the basement of St. Marys rectory. Me, with an interest in history, said I'd be glad to sort through what was there. Permission came for me to proceed and I did. Periodically, I'd find something of interest and the Bishop would tell me a little of the history of what I had found. There were a lot of worthwhile items found, enough that the Diocese hired an archivist and now there is a museum on the first floor of the new Diocesan building.
This is a copy of a paper found in one of the files. I thought it was clever. Sort of 'Ecclesiastical humor'. There is no date on it but I'm assuming it is quite old. The title is above.
An old Church in Belgium decided to repair its properties and employed an artist to touch up a large painting. Upon presenting his bill the committee in charge refused payment unless the details were specified, whereupon he presented the items as follows:
To correct the Ten Commandments..............................................5.12
Embellishing Pontius Pilate and putting new ribbons on his hat......................................3.09
Putting new tail on rooster of St. Peter and mending his comb......................................2.20
Replumbing and gilding left wing of Guardian Angel................. ................5.18
Washing the servant of the High Priest and putting carmine on his cheeks...............5.02
Renewing Heaven, adjusting the stars and cleaning up the moon.................. 7.14
Touching up purgatory and restoring lost souls.........................................................3.06
Brightening up the names on Hell, putting new tail on the Devil,
mending his hoof, and doing several odd jobs for the damned................................. 7.10
Rebordering the robes of Herod and adjusting his wig.............................................4.00
Taking spots off the son of Tobias............................................................... ..1.30
Putting earrings in Sarah's ears....................................................................1.71
Putting new stone in David's sling, enlarging the head of Goliath,
and extending Saul's leg..................................................................................6.13
Decorating Noah's Ark and putting a head on Shem....................................4.31
Mending the shirt of the Prodigal Son and cleaning his ears..........................3.30
This is a copy of a paper found in one of the files. I thought it was clever. Sort of 'Ecclesiastical humor'. There is no date on it but I'm assuming it is quite old. The title is above.
An old Church in Belgium decided to repair its properties and employed an artist to touch up a large painting. Upon presenting his bill the committee in charge refused payment unless the details were specified, whereupon he presented the items as follows:
To correct the Ten Commandments..............................................5.12
Embellishing Pontius Pilate and putting new ribbons on his hat......................................3.09
Putting new tail on rooster of St. Peter and mending his comb......................................2.20
Replumbing and gilding left wing of Guardian Angel................. ................5.18
Washing the servant of the High Priest and putting carmine on his cheeks...............5.02
Renewing Heaven, adjusting the stars and cleaning up the moon.................. 7.14
Touching up purgatory and restoring lost souls.........................................................3.06
Brightening up the names on Hell, putting new tail on the Devil,
mending his hoof, and doing several odd jobs for the damned................................. 7.10
Rebordering the robes of Herod and adjusting his wig.............................................4.00
Taking spots off the son of Tobias............................................................... ..1.30
Putting earrings in Sarah's ears....................................................................1.71
Putting new stone in David's sling, enlarging the head of Goliath,
and extending Saul's leg..................................................................................6.13
Decorating Noah's Ark and putting a head on Shem....................................4.31
Mending the shirt of the Prodigal Son and cleaning his ears..........................3.30
Monday, December 24, 2012
A CANDYMAKER'S WITNESS
He began with a stick of pure white, hard candy. White to symbolize the Virgin Birth and the sinless nature of Jesus; and hard to symbolize the Solid Rock, the foundation of the Church and firmness of the promises of God.
The candy maker made the candy in the form of a 'J' to represent the precious name of Jesus, who came to earth as our Savior. It could also represent the staff of the 'Good Shepherd' with which He reaches down into the ditches of the world to lift out the fallen lambs who, like all sheep, have gone astray.
Thinking that the candy was somewhat plain, the candy maker stained it with red stripes to show the stripes of the scourging Jesus received by which we are healed. The large red stripe was for the blood shed by Christ on the cross so that we could have the promise of eternal life.
Over time, the candy became known as a candy cane - a meaningless decoration seen at Christmas time. But the meaning is still there for those who "have eyes to see and ears to hear." I pray that this symbol will again be used to witness To the Wonder of Jesus and His Great Love that came down at Christmas and remains the ultimate and dominate force in the universe today.
I don't know if this little story is true or not, but I heard it years ago and think it's worth repeating. Sometimes the small things in our lives take on a new meaning when we hear 'the rest of the story'. A very merry and blessed Christmas to all.
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Rendevous
In October, 1991, Peoria celebrated its 300th birthday. The city is the oldest continuous European settlement in the state. I was part of the History and Research Committee. This is a paper I wrote for an English class at ICC about one of the events.
The journey had started at Henry, Illinois. They had stopped at towns along the way and camped overnight. The night before, their encampment had been at Chillicothe. Each morning they would take their vehicles down to that evening's campsite and this night they would be in Peoria. We were part of the cavalcade that would drive them back up to have breakfast before they started down river again for the Tricentennial Grand Opening and the reenactment of the first Voyageurs coming down the Ilinois River with Henri DeTonti in 1691.
Seven men dressed in authentic garb, introduced themselves and then piled into my old station wagon for the ride north. Reaching for my seat belt, I got a handful of flesh, the man sitting close beside me, a dentist from Chicago was wearing not buckskin leggings, as I had thought, but a breech cloth and thigh high moccasin boots. "Well," I told him, very surprised, "I didn't realize we were going to get quite so intimate!" He and the others chuckled and as we traveled up Route 29, told me of their involvement with recreating the Voyageur way of life.
In their group, were doctors, engineers, a janitor, computer operators, a lawyer and a few retired persons. Most were canoe enthusiasts who hunted, fished and enjoyed camping. Their reenactments were on weekends or during vacation, so they brought their families along and they too dressed in seventeenth century garb.
The majority were Midwesterners but a few were from as far north as Ontario, Canada. An interest in canoeing history had led them to the North American Voyageur Council, the organization that sponsored such assemblies and brigades, such as the Tricentennial Grand Voyage, and the reenactment each year at Fort Creve Couer.
From our conversation and from what I had learned researching Peoria's history, the Voyageur was a lusty fellow. He was short, gregarious and roamed and trapped on the waterways of middle America. Mostly, French Canadian, he loved women, his own and the Native American ones, telling tall tales, singing and drinking wine. For these reasons, they usually lived outside the Forts. However, this energetic, genial backwoodsman, was respected because he worked hard and never complained about the primitive way of life. He could be counted on in a skirmish, but preferred to avoid one, and unlike his English and American counterparts, was well-liked by the Native Americans.
At about four o'clock on that Friday afternoon, we all met again. While I was standing on the bank of a grassy area at Detweiller Marina with about fifteen hundred other people, around a curve in the river came seven long canoes with flags and banners flying and brimming with people and supplies. The canoe paddles skimmed across the water as the crafts came serenely and swiftly to shore. The crowd began to cheer and as the vessels got closer to land, a loud welcoming roar went up. After the canoes plowed into shore, and everyone disembarked, one of their number, portraying a black-garbed Jesuit priest, led them in a prayer of thanksgiving for the safe journey. Following a quick introduction of local dignitaries and assorted speeches, Hana Sine of the Winnebago Tribe, welcomed the reenactors in a moving authentic Pipe Smoking ceremony.
Afterward, the Voyageurs began to set up camp and invited all those present to watch, help or ask questions. Hay bales had been scattered throughout the area to be used for seating and their bedding. All of their gear and the modern amenities to which we are accustomed was stowed in burlap bags. They quickly put up their tents and built a huge bonfire in the center of the ring of primitive dwellings. Some canvas structures had their own fire pit in front and before long the sound and smell of coffee being made in rustic pots filled the air.
That night, about 9:30, after checking if the voyageurs needed a ride for groceries or to use a phone, (1991 was pre-cell phones) we prepared to leave. Before getting into our car, we turned and looked towards the river. The scene was from another era. The moonlight zigzagged across the river and onto the trees and rocks along the water's edge. It shone on that small settlement just as it had on another three hundred years before. But most astonishing, was that this peaceful, historical oasis was situated in the heart of Peoria's inner city.
I received an A on the paper and this is the instructor's comment: I like the ending! you've hit on the contrast. You've combined a profile of a person (or a type of person) and an event effectively - really, you've created a capsule portrait of a whole time period.
The journey had started at Henry, Illinois. They had stopped at towns along the way and camped overnight. The night before, their encampment had been at Chillicothe. Each morning they would take their vehicles down to that evening's campsite and this night they would be in Peoria. We were part of the cavalcade that would drive them back up to have breakfast before they started down river again for the Tricentennial Grand Opening and the reenactment of the first Voyageurs coming down the Ilinois River with Henri DeTonti in 1691.
Seven men dressed in authentic garb, introduced themselves and then piled into my old station wagon for the ride north. Reaching for my seat belt, I got a handful of flesh, the man sitting close beside me, a dentist from Chicago was wearing not buckskin leggings, as I had thought, but a breech cloth and thigh high moccasin boots. "Well," I told him, very surprised, "I didn't realize we were going to get quite so intimate!" He and the others chuckled and as we traveled up Route 29, told me of their involvement with recreating the Voyageur way of life.
In their group, were doctors, engineers, a janitor, computer operators, a lawyer and a few retired persons. Most were canoe enthusiasts who hunted, fished and enjoyed camping. Their reenactments were on weekends or during vacation, so they brought their families along and they too dressed in seventeenth century garb.
The majority were Midwesterners but a few were from as far north as Ontario, Canada. An interest in canoeing history had led them to the North American Voyageur Council, the organization that sponsored such assemblies and brigades, such as the Tricentennial Grand Voyage, and the reenactment each year at Fort Creve Couer.
From our conversation and from what I had learned researching Peoria's history, the Voyageur was a lusty fellow. He was short, gregarious and roamed and trapped on the waterways of middle America. Mostly, French Canadian, he loved women, his own and the Native American ones, telling tall tales, singing and drinking wine. For these reasons, they usually lived outside the Forts. However, this energetic, genial backwoodsman, was respected because he worked hard and never complained about the primitive way of life. He could be counted on in a skirmish, but preferred to avoid one, and unlike his English and American counterparts, was well-liked by the Native Americans.
At about four o'clock on that Friday afternoon, we all met again. While I was standing on the bank of a grassy area at Detweiller Marina with about fifteen hundred other people, around a curve in the river came seven long canoes with flags and banners flying and brimming with people and supplies. The canoe paddles skimmed across the water as the crafts came serenely and swiftly to shore. The crowd began to cheer and as the vessels got closer to land, a loud welcoming roar went up. After the canoes plowed into shore, and everyone disembarked, one of their number, portraying a black-garbed Jesuit priest, led them in a prayer of thanksgiving for the safe journey. Following a quick introduction of local dignitaries and assorted speeches, Hana Sine of the Winnebago Tribe, welcomed the reenactors in a moving authentic Pipe Smoking ceremony.
Afterward, the Voyageurs began to set up camp and invited all those present to watch, help or ask questions. Hay bales had been scattered throughout the area to be used for seating and their bedding. All of their gear and the modern amenities to which we are accustomed was stowed in burlap bags. They quickly put up their tents and built a huge bonfire in the center of the ring of primitive dwellings. Some canvas structures had their own fire pit in front and before long the sound and smell of coffee being made in rustic pots filled the air.
That night, about 9:30, after checking if the voyageurs needed a ride for groceries or to use a phone, (1991 was pre-cell phones) we prepared to leave. Before getting into our car, we turned and looked towards the river. The scene was from another era. The moonlight zigzagged across the river and onto the trees and rocks along the water's edge. It shone on that small settlement just as it had on another three hundred years before. But most astonishing, was that this peaceful, historical oasis was situated in the heart of Peoria's inner city.
I received an A on the paper and this is the instructor's comment: I like the ending! you've hit on the contrast. You've combined a profile of a person (or a type of person) and an event effectively - really, you've created a capsule portrait of a whole time period.
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Gallimaufry
When John F Kennedy died, we only had three television stations, I'm not sure that the PBS channel was up and running yet. But we watched non stop that weekend, that is until the station went off the air with the National Anthem and then the test pattern. Vern took Leah and Lora to Mass that Sunday and I stayed home with the younger ones. I still remember having the telly on and seeing Lee Harvey Oswald get shot. Shocking!! We couldn't get enough of the classic grace of Jacqueline. All these years later, I can still conjure up those memories.
Now with stations and particularly news 24/7, I got caught up in the shooting in Connecticut. I couldn't stop watching. Finally on Saturday, I made myself take a shower and leave the house. I went grocery shopping at Lindys in Washington. When I got home again, I was back in front of the TV.
This shooting was not about mental illness or weapons control but out and out evil. The shooter knew what he was doing, damaged the hard drive on his computer, shot his mother, carried his brother's ID and killed babies because they would give him no resistance and then the coward killed himself when the police came. We need to stop citing reasons why people do these acts and just admit there is evil in this world.
* * * * *
In our bulletin last Sunday, there was a story about a young woman who took part in the London marathon last year. She was running to raise 500 pounds for a charity. A mile before the finish, she collapsed and died. When the public heard about her death, people sent in money to the charity and over 100,000 pounds was raised. There is also a lot of good in the world.
* * * * *
I got the results from my last PET scan on Tuesday. I was really concerned as it has been seven months since my last chemo treatment. I asked if any daughters would be available to go with me so I wouldn't be alone when I got the results. Two of them came to town to be here. The news was good or at least good enough. The cancer has increased a little but not significantly. In fact, the result is the same as when I was getting treatments. We talked a little about why my cancer is so slow growing and others that I know, diagnosed after me have died or are near death. The doctor said that most lung cancer is more aggressive and this slow growing type is unusual. I will go back in March for another scan. My friend, Phyllis says that God is not done with me yet.
On the way home from the Cancer Center, we stopped at Jim's Steak House for bloody marys, our drink of choice for good news. Maureen told the waitress we were celebrating because I had had good news. I told her what had happened. She just looked at me for a second and said: "That's really nice for you, but my mother has lung cancer and there is nothing that can be done for her!" I took her hand and told her I was so sorry and I would pray for her mom. We ordered soup and when we were done and the bill was paid, she came over and whispered in my ear: "I think God sent you here today, to give me hope!" Is that what God wants me to do, give hope? Lord knows, we need a large dose of it these days.
Now with stations and particularly news 24/7, I got caught up in the shooting in Connecticut. I couldn't stop watching. Finally on Saturday, I made myself take a shower and leave the house. I went grocery shopping at Lindys in Washington. When I got home again, I was back in front of the TV.
This shooting was not about mental illness or weapons control but out and out evil. The shooter knew what he was doing, damaged the hard drive on his computer, shot his mother, carried his brother's ID and killed babies because they would give him no resistance and then the coward killed himself when the police came. We need to stop citing reasons why people do these acts and just admit there is evil in this world.
* * * * *
In our bulletin last Sunday, there was a story about a young woman who took part in the London marathon last year. She was running to raise 500 pounds for a charity. A mile before the finish, she collapsed and died. When the public heard about her death, people sent in money to the charity and over 100,000 pounds was raised. There is also a lot of good in the world.
* * * * *
I got the results from my last PET scan on Tuesday. I was really concerned as it has been seven months since my last chemo treatment. I asked if any daughters would be available to go with me so I wouldn't be alone when I got the results. Two of them came to town to be here. The news was good or at least good enough. The cancer has increased a little but not significantly. In fact, the result is the same as when I was getting treatments. We talked a little about why my cancer is so slow growing and others that I know, diagnosed after me have died or are near death. The doctor said that most lung cancer is more aggressive and this slow growing type is unusual. I will go back in March for another scan. My friend, Phyllis says that God is not done with me yet.
On the way home from the Cancer Center, we stopped at Jim's Steak House for bloody marys, our drink of choice for good news. Maureen told the waitress we were celebrating because I had had good news. I told her what had happened. She just looked at me for a second and said: "That's really nice for you, but my mother has lung cancer and there is nothing that can be done for her!" I took her hand and told her I was so sorry and I would pray for her mom. We ordered soup and when we were done and the bill was paid, she came over and whispered in my ear: "I think God sent you here today, to give me hope!" Is that what God wants me to do, give hope? Lord knows, we need a large dose of it these days.
Wednesday, December 12, 2012
Gallimaufry
I've had a visit from a Christmas elf this past week - an extra pair of hands and feet. The elf decorated the tree, did odd jobs to get the yard ready for winter, straightened up the garage and helped clean up the basement. I am embarassed to say that it had gotten entirely out of hand, so it was great to have someone give me the incentive - and hands and feet - to get it done. We took the back seat of the car plus the trunk full of 'stuff' to Goodwill on University, mostly holiday decorations.
When the children were young, I decorated the house for every season and particularly Christmas. Leah had a tree in her room with cat and dog ornaments on it. Our tree in the living room alternated each year between one with all birds - mostly cardinals or a blue and gold more formal tree. Someplace in every room was a Christmas tree - Vern even made me a wooden tree with about six arms to hang hand towels on for the bathroom. A bit of overkill, actually. But I loved doing it. In this house, one tree, with lots of ornaments - some from all of those trees. And with each ornament is a memory. Like the ones we bought for half price the day after our first married Christmas, at Central Hardware in St. Louis coming home from Marshfield. Some ornaments were gifts - sister Suzanne gave her sisters White House ornaments when she was working at the Pentagon in D.C. And I usually bought a Christmas tree ornament when we traveled. "Memories are made of these."
* * * * *
Yesterday we drove up to Whitewater, Wisconsin to see granddaughter, Ellen - I know she goes by Elle, but she is still Ellen to me. We went to see her senior art show - she graduates this month. She is amazingly talented. The gallery was filled with several students art, some whimsical and some disturbing, but very interesting to see. Very enjoyable evening.
* * * * *
When we got to the toll booth just before Beloit the cost was $1.90, I was shocked, the last time it had been a dollar toll. On the way back I asked the attendant when the price had gone up, he said the first of January! That means it had been over a year since I had gone North. Where have I been? Obviously not Wisconsin!
Another thing I noticed coming home in the dark. All of the giant windmills on the landscape have red or white lights on them at night. Pretty cool, particularly this time of the year.
* * * * *
Every year, the Christmas season begins for me when I go to the Orpheus Winter Concert. This men's chorus celebrated their 110th year this year. Always enjoyable. Last year, I added a song to my Christmas playlist when one of the men soloed "Mary, Did You Know". I ordered Clay Aiken's version on I Tunes. At this years performance, one of the chorus sang "This Little Child" by Scott Wesley Brown. Take some time to listen to his version on You Tube. Beautiful!
When the children were young, I decorated the house for every season and particularly Christmas. Leah had a tree in her room with cat and dog ornaments on it. Our tree in the living room alternated each year between one with all birds - mostly cardinals or a blue and gold more formal tree. Someplace in every room was a Christmas tree - Vern even made me a wooden tree with about six arms to hang hand towels on for the bathroom. A bit of overkill, actually. But I loved doing it. In this house, one tree, with lots of ornaments - some from all of those trees. And with each ornament is a memory. Like the ones we bought for half price the day after our first married Christmas, at Central Hardware in St. Louis coming home from Marshfield. Some ornaments were gifts - sister Suzanne gave her sisters White House ornaments when she was working at the Pentagon in D.C. And I usually bought a Christmas tree ornament when we traveled. "Memories are made of these."
* * * * *
Yesterday we drove up to Whitewater, Wisconsin to see granddaughter, Ellen - I know she goes by Elle, but she is still Ellen to me. We went to see her senior art show - she graduates this month. She is amazingly talented. The gallery was filled with several students art, some whimsical and some disturbing, but very interesting to see. Very enjoyable evening.
* * * * *
When we got to the toll booth just before Beloit the cost was $1.90, I was shocked, the last time it had been a dollar toll. On the way back I asked the attendant when the price had gone up, he said the first of January! That means it had been over a year since I had gone North. Where have I been? Obviously not Wisconsin!
Another thing I noticed coming home in the dark. All of the giant windmills on the landscape have red or white lights on them at night. Pretty cool, particularly this time of the year.
* * * * *
Every year, the Christmas season begins for me when I go to the Orpheus Winter Concert. This men's chorus celebrated their 110th year this year. Always enjoyable. Last year, I added a song to my Christmas playlist when one of the men soloed "Mary, Did You Know". I ordered Clay Aiken's version on I Tunes. At this years performance, one of the chorus sang "This Little Child" by Scott Wesley Brown. Take some time to listen to his version on You Tube. Beautiful!
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Grandchildren
As our grandchildren have grown up, I saved every photo, drawing and letter or thank you note and greeting card they (or their mother) sent us. There are a lot more photos and drawings of the oldest children, Joel, Ellen, Tony and Stephen than the youngest, Tim, Charlie and Jonny. For a gift for their graduation from high school, I have put all of this in a scrapbook. I think they have enjoyed them. They seem to enjoy looking at the photos, smile at their preschool drawings and laugh out loud at some of their comments in the letters they wrote. I have two to do this year, Charlie and Jonny are both graduating in May. I've already started to collect things for their scrapbooks and will get started after the first of the year.
Each card we received started with their name written by parents and then markings by them while their parents held their hand and then those first - usually very large letters, with sometimes backwards 'n's and 'r's. and as they grew the almost indecipherable scrawl that is their signature as a teen.
This all came to mind this morning when Father's homily talked about how each of us is a work of art, created by God - I couldn't help but think some of us are more like a Picasso than a Botticelli. And the best part of being a creation of the Almighty is that we are constantly changing. The portrait we were when we are young is not who we are now and that is a good thing. Unlike the masterpieces of Michelangelo and Monet, we grow, we become better, more beautiful as we learn to be.
Just as those signatures of my grandchildren changed over the years, so have they grown from babes, adolescents and now to interesting multicolored adults. The joy of a grandparent is surviving the kaleidoscopic crises in life our children create for us and now enjoying their prismatic offspring. I am blessed.
....and really glad I own a thesaurus!!!
Each card we received started with their name written by parents and then markings by them while their parents held their hand and then those first - usually very large letters, with sometimes backwards 'n's and 'r's. and as they grew the almost indecipherable scrawl that is their signature as a teen.
This all came to mind this morning when Father's homily talked about how each of us is a work of art, created by God - I couldn't help but think some of us are more like a Picasso than a Botticelli. And the best part of being a creation of the Almighty is that we are constantly changing. The portrait we were when we are young is not who we are now and that is a good thing. Unlike the masterpieces of Michelangelo and Monet, we grow, we become better, more beautiful as we learn to be.
Just as those signatures of my grandchildren changed over the years, so have they grown from babes, adolescents and now to interesting multicolored adults. The joy of a grandparent is surviving the kaleidoscopic crises in life our children create for us and now enjoying their prismatic offspring. I am blessed.
....and really glad I own a thesaurus!!!
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