Archive for 2005:
Update on Timothy
I just talked to him a little while ago and he told me he had a rough night last night and spent all of today resting in the infirmary. He gets the pins out on Thursday and should quickly start feeling better from there. Prayers are appreciated.A cute little story I must tell you; When Timothy was home his little sisters Mary and Maggie (ages 9 and 5) thought it their job to take care of him and at one point Timothy leant over and kissed Maggie on the cheek to which she promptly said “Um, Timothy you aren’t really supposed to kiss people when you’re sick, I don’t want to break my wrist.”
I’m still smiling at that one!
Subscribe to the comments for this postMorning prayer walk
I’ve started walking every morning and this morning I found the perfect place to walk, destined to be my favorite–a cemetery.Our parish cemetery actually. It’s 2 blocks from my house and very large with lots of paths, no traffic and no exhaust fumes! I am ashamed to admit that in 4 years of living here and passing it almost daily, today was the first time I actually set foot inside. I don’t know what took me so long.I love cemeteries. They are quiet and peaceful and filled with beauty. I never feel afraid or sad in them, just peaceful. They are the perfect place to pray–especially Catholic cemeteries because they are filled with visual aids to prayer; statues, crucifixes, etc. I always pray for the dead whenever I pass a cemetery and I prayed many times for the dead this morning as I walked the grounds. In turn I always ask them to pray for me and I can truthfully say that I have many times, over the years, felt that those prayers had indeed been efficacious in my life.
Alas old cemeteries can also be hazardous if one has a tendency to be clumsy, as I do. While looking around and thus not looking where I was walking, I stepped in a hole and twisted my ankle. I hit the gravel on one knee and managed to scrape off quite a bit of skin. Jumping to my feet in embarrassment before the entire Church Suffering and Church Triumphant, I walked if off and headed home. I thought I was fine but find myself with a very swollen ankle this evening and no prospects of walking tomorrow. 
Oh Holy Souls in Purgatory, pray for me. . . a clumsy fool!
Gone with the water
Published in National Geographic nearly a year ago. . .”It was a broiling August afternoon in New Orleans, Louisiana, the Big Easy, the City That Care Forgot. Those who ventured outside moved as if they were swimming in tupelo honey. Those inside paid silent homage to the man who invented air-conditioning as they watched TV “storm teams” warn of a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico. Nothing surprising there: Hurricanes in August are as much a part of life in this town as hangovers on Ash Wednesday.
But the next day the storm gathered steam and drew a bead on the city. As the whirling maelstrom approached the coast, more than a million people evacuated to higher ground. Some 200,000 remained, however—the car-less, the homeless, the aged and infirm, and those die-hard New Orleanians who look for any excuse to throw a party.
The storm hit Breton Sound with the fury of a nuclear warhead, pushing a deadly storm surge into Lake Pontchartrain. The water crept to the top of the massive berm that holds back the lake and then spilled over. Nearly 80 percent of New Orleans lies below sea level—more than eight feet below in places—so the water poured in. A liquid brown wall washed over the brick ranch homes of Gentilly, over the clapboard houses of the Ninth Ward, over the white-columned porches of the Garden District, until it raced through the bars and strip joints on Bourbon Street like the pale rider of the Apocalypse. As it reached 25 feet (eight meters) over parts of the city, people climbed onto roofs to escape it.
Thousands drowned in the murky brew that was soon contaminated by sewage and industrial waste. Thousands more who survived the flood later perished from dehydration and disease as they waited to be rescued. It took two months to pump the city dry, and by then the Big Easy was buried under a blanket of putrid sediment, a million people were homeless, and 50,000 were dead. It was the worst natural disaster in the history of the United States.
When did this calamity happen? It hasn’t—yet. But the doomsday scenario is not far-fetched. The Federal Emergency Management Agency lists a hurricane strike on New Orleans as one of the most dire threats to the nation, up there with a large earthquake in California or a terrorist attack on New York City. Even the Red Cross no longer opens hurricane shelters in the city, claiming the risk to its workers is too great.”
A seminarian’s first week. . .
My oldest son Timothy, entered St. Charles Borromeo Seminary this past week. I drove him there, helped him get his stuff up three flights of stairs to his room (all the while trying not to look too overtaxed as I huffed and puffed up the last set of stairs!) and made his bed for him (hey, I’m his mom–it’s what I do). Then, after a beautiful mass, a Philadelphia style lunch (Italian hoagies, chips, soda and soft pretzels) and various orientation talks, it was time for me to head home and leave him there. It was difficult but only because I knew I would miss him. He was so clearly happy to be there that I couldn’t help feeling a tremendous sense of peace as I drove away and watched him striding across campus to evening prayer. And I do miss him, even though I have talked to him everyday since I left him there.So tonight he calls and tells me that he broke his left wrist today while playing basketball! He broke both the ulna and radius so he’s in a good bit of pain but assures me he is fine. Now I actually do have something to worry about. But he was quick to tell me that he now has the singular distinction of being the first seminarian to get hurt this school year. Oh and apparently he was also the first to pull off a successful prank; he snuck into an adjacent dorm last night and shuffled the names cards on all the doors of the 2nd year seminarians.
Yeah, that’s my boy! 
Starbucks
OK I’ll admit I’m not a huge Starbucks fan, but I do enjoy a cafe mocha or latté from time to time.Not anymore.
Starbucks: A habit easily broken.
Chris’ new buddy
Chris found a baby mockingbird on the street today. He got online to find out how to care for it and after just a short time of nurturing, it seems to have become quite attached to him. I’m not surprised. He’s a pretty caring young man.
Why me?
Feast of St. Maximilian Mary Kolbe
I can’t believe I’m here. Honestly, I was just thinking the other day “why would I need a blog?”. And now I have one. Why? It just kind of happened. I tried to comment on a friend’s blog and I needed an account, so I got one and then suddenly I had a blog. Uh OK, sure. So here I am and now I am intrigued by the idea. What should I write about? My kids? I have nine, lots of stories there. But some of them don’t particularly like when I talk about them. . .I’ll have to change the names to protect the guilty. 
Today is my youngest child’s feast day. Happy Feast Day babykins!
