Oh...say it ain't so, Bishop Martino!

I am inexpressibly sad to learn that Bishop Martino of Scranton has resigned. This article is infuriating - Teddy Kennedy was a more prominent Catholic figure than our Bishops, true, but somehow the author seems to imply or equate prominence with moral authority. And while the author hints at a divide with the Vatican and Bp. Martino, where's the explanation?

I'm just sick at heart.

I need a physical and spiritual Tums. Gotta ponder and pray. What's next? Who's next?

Comment away, friends - because I don't get this at all.

Prayer Request for the Princess and the Patron Saint for the Plane/Solid Scared Student

Ahhh....it has been a hectic few weeks around here, as the Princess prepares to take her state exam in Geometry, and is still battling the strange intestinal scourge that caused her healthy appendix to be removed in February. Still no concrete diagnosis - spent several hours with a pained Princess at the ER last night. She's fine, full of anti-inflammatories, and studying like crazy.

Anyway.

St. Hubert is the patron saint of mathematicians. Had to dig deep for that one. An interesting man from the Aquitaine region of France, later Bishop of Liege in Belgium. He was a rich young nobleman who enjoyed hunting, and reportedly had a vision of the a crucifix (some accounts say the Eucharist) framed by a stag's horns, along with a warning to change his ways, which effectuated his conversion to a holy life. Consequently, he is the patron saint of hunters as well, (in Europe, bloodhounds are called "St Hubert's Hounds")....and he is invoked to cure rabies! Given our brave little Princess' skill as a bat huntress earlier this summer, St. Hubert is definitely the friend she's needed in her corner of late. I love our Faith and all these fascinating people who've been inspired to live lives of greatness of spirit and humility of heart because of it!

So please remember our Princess to him in your prayers - she has worked with a tutor to skip ahead a year in math, and to be plagued by sudden sharp abdominal pains for no apparent reason while getting ready to take the test is not fun. She's battling through it and will be fine - she has a 97 average for the course, and is just hoping for a 90 or better on the exam so that she eventually receives the "Advanced Regents With Honors" high school diploma. (NY is more freaky than CA in so many ways...never thought I'd say that....)

St. Hubert update! --> Ummm...so I was at my friends' martini bar the other day and I noticed that his symbol is on the Jagermeister label (I hate that stuff, but it was on the bar looking at me as I sipped away at my cosmo)

In other news...

Summer is winding down, football and cheerleading practices are heating up...HeloMom is going to rest for these next few weeks before the rusty cogs of the romance machine grind and spring back to life. Regular posts will resume, however. This has been the busiest summer I've had with the kids - ever!

Got Stock? (As in St. SIMON?!?)

Hahaha....

Today is the Feast of Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, and the Feast of the Scapular of Mt. Carmel. On this day in 1251, our Blessed Mother appeared to St. Simon Stock and presented him with the scapular and promises special favors and protection to those who wear the scapular.

I've had to fight to wear mine each time I've had a baby or any other sort of minor surgery - the best was my knee arthroscopy about 4 years ago. My good Irish Catholic orthopaedic surgeon, who is a quiet, sweet and soft-spoken man, told the OR nurse to back off when she got testy with me for refusing to remove it (in case of emergency breathing issues under anaesthesia, they want a clear shot at your throat). He then very reverently removed it and wrapped it around my wrist, lacing it through my fingers so that it rested in my palm, and crossed my forehead. As usual, I got a little verkelmpt. But for the first time since they rolled me into the OR, I felt completely relaxed, at peace, and ready to go under.

The (very Americanized)young Indian anaesthesiologist was intrigued by all of this, and asked me what "it" was, and what it meant. I told him the deal and he said "That's really beautiful! I've never heard of that and I've never seen one of those before Cool!" and then to his colleague, "Man, I never knew you were such a religious guy, that's great!"

So wear your scapular - don't be shy - there's so much to be gained for your own soul, and for Team Rome! Here's mine:

It's the Cross of the Crusaders....quite fitting, when one lives in the DOR, really. :)

The Princess wears Our Lady of Lourdes/Our Lady of Mt. Carmel, the Beloved carries - but does not wear - his Confirmation name saint, St. Jude (a natural choice, given who his bride is...) and our Little Therese has the Holy Face, which was blessed at the EWTN 25th Anniversary celebration in Birmingham by the late Alfonso Cardinal Lopez-Trujillo, who led the Pontifical Council for the Family. She ran up to him as he crossed the street and asked him to bless it, he bent down, took it in his hand, blessed her and beamed at her and said "it is so beeeaauuutiful! And so are you, precious little one!" Again, I was verklempt.

So....that's ours. What does yours look like? And if you don't have one, why not? Spend the $5 for this wonderful devotional - keep it tucked in close, and if you're asked, hey - you might just reach into a heart or two.

Thoughts On The Fallen

It's been about 18 months now since we were all wringing our hands over Fr. Francis Mary Stone's decision to leave the priesthood due to his relationship with a woman he met through his ministry at EWTN. He was about to become a biological father. Yep, he sinned, defied his priestly vows and vocation - and he was publicly bludgeoned for it. He then had to choose between walking away from his vocation and manning up to take moral and financial responsibility for his child and the mother (hopefully his bride by now), or living his vocation by remaining in the priesthood, thereby denying his child - the one innocent involved - a traditional father-child relationship and leaving another single moter out there struggling to raise a child - his child - on her own. I never have and never will condone what got him to the point of having to choose between these options, but I can understand and support what he ultimately did. He's a dad, and he's doing what he can, in his 40's, to start a business and generate enough income to support his family.

THEN there's Fr. Alberto Cutie, the soon-to-be Episcopalian. Caught with his speedo and his grope on. As our dear Fr. Erik points out, he's the worst kind of hypocrite. Becoming a Protestant as a means of getting his cupcake and ea....ok, never mind. You know what I mean. So he's leaving the Church without following the proper laicizing process, hoping to forge ahead as an Episcopalian cleric of some sort, with his concubine-turned-wife at his side grinning and squeezing his....ok, never mind....for the cameras.

Father Oprah? I think not. Nay, I foresee them becoming the Jim & Tammy Faye of Univision. Get thee behind me....

Unlike Dave Stone, Alberto Cutie's defection really pisses me off!!!

(Yeah, yeah...prayers, charity, and all that. This is why I am NOT a religious, it's the bitter, snarky thing...)

Memorial Day Weekend

Remember the fallen, pray for them, honor their service.

And be glad we have young men like this one on the wall protecting his compatriots and all of us here at home.

(Kid, you may love NY, but I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!)

HMD #30 - Prayer request

Update #2: The verdict is in - not an osseous tumor...not a lipoma...looks like a traumatic injury but the kid wasn't injured there in recent memory. Very strange.

Update: 48 hours, no result. Dad is a physician, you'd think they'd let him know sooner than us mere mortals. I don't like it.

Gentle readers: the Athlete found a golfball mass on the inner ridge of his shin bone, between the muscle and bone. Not painful, not a result of bruising or other trauma, deep enough that he found it as a result of swatting at something on his leg and had a "wtf is that?" moment. His physician dad sent him in for a bone scan and MRI yesterday. Results should be forthcoming sometime this afternoon.

I'm voting for a lipoma.

In the meantime, this sucks.

More soon,

The Concerned HeloMom

The ecstasy...and then the agony

Two news stories that I managed to catch today....

1. About time this dirtbag goes down. One wife will get justice, anyway.

and now the one that really upsets and discourages me....

2. Padre Cutie...porque?

18 months ago, it was Fr. Francis. Now Fr. Alberto. More egg on the face of the Church, sure, but what disturbs me most about their stories is how well Satan picks his prey...two very bright men, gifted communicators, role models both aiming for and enaging the young adult segments of our Catholic population...and then they fall so horribly, so publicly, that they leave behind discouraged and disgruntled parishioners and international viewing and listening audiences, and the distinct impression that living up to the obligations and commitments of a priestly vocation is just too difficult for it to be a realistic or viable option.

ARRRRRGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!! [But I didn't say "argh" in my head!]

Pray for these priests...and then follow that old hair-band anthem and Shout At The Devil!

Divine Mercy Sunday - A Prayer

O Blood and Water that gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus as a fountain of mercy for us, I trust in You.

Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion --- inexhaustible,

Look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy in us,

that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent,

but with great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will,

which is Love and Mercy itself.

YAY!!!!!

See, last year I posted early and jinxed it...my Cubs won their season opener!

GO CUBS GO!!!!!

O My Jesus...

Forgive us our sins,


Save us from the fires of Hell,


Lead all souls to Heaven,


Especially those who are in most need of Thy mercy...

.

(Like me, for instance.)

Nothing major to report, but I really gotta get my Lent on in these lastfew days - have missed Mass one Sunday with a sick kid, haven't made it to Confession yet, been okay with some of my regimen but not so much on other aspects...have had much to cuss about and little self restraint.

Silver lining: Our Little Flower is a rich kid - lots of penitential ice cream money has been dropped in her piggy bank. Which isn't an actual piggy bank...it's a mock-ATM machine. Oh, gotta love this culture....

Happy Birthday Princess!!!

Back in 1994, after 36 ridiculous hours of induced labor, our eldest was reluctantly born. (She was quite comfy where she was, thank you.) And as I type this, the little weasel is passed out, snuggled beneath the covers in the Beloved's now-vacant spot, having wanted to spend the night and wake up next to me in the morning "so you're the first person I look at, just like when I was born!"

[sniff...]

This is true - she was a bit blue and sluggish at first, but when I asked through my morphine daze if she was okay a few minutes after she finally emerged and had been whisked away for assessment and Apgar scoring, she turned her head toward me from the incubator and finally opened her eyes and started making squeaky sounds.

[Again with the sniff...]

Now I am looking over at a beautiful young lady - a quincinera today - sound asleep in body at the moment, but just awakening to all the potential of her womanhood. So much promise, yet so fragile, too. I am more conscious than ever of the huge responsibility I bear to ensure that her mind, body and soul remain pure and intact as we navigate these treacherous worldly peaks, valleys, and waters of the next few years.

Thanks be to God for this beautiful gift He's given us, and please pray for her as well as for her parents, that we may be virtuous and courageous stewards of her soul for as long as she's ours to nurture.

Princess facts: the portrait above is Empress Elisabeth of Austria, (a.k.a., Elisabeth of Bavaria, Queen of Hungary, or, more simply, Princess Sissi) the icon of fashionable European royalty back in the 1800's...a suitably beautiful yet tragic life story (oh those Hapsburgs...), and a source of fascination for our own Princess. This portrait inspired the Christine Daae "Think of Me" costume in the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie:

We have a pact that when she marries, I will find or commission a set of those fabulous Swarovsky crystal hairpins to be made for her coiffure...

Ahh, to be a princess....

Happy Birthday, sweetheart!

Quick prayer request

Got some more questions from/did another round of apologetics via txt with the Athlete this evening...doing my best...cows beware....

Totally Self-Indulgent Monday

Today I did something I haven't in [...pondering...] many years. I sat helping the Beloved pack his gear for his new-job required trip back into the periphery of hell (aka, somewhere in the Middle East) and then...

...I sprawled out on my bed, spread eagled, stared at the ceiling...and cried. No bawling, no sobbing, nothing unseemly or overwrought. Just unstoppable, silent leakage.

Why?

Well, it just hit me that there's a wee Boy who, at nearly two, still doesn't talk much. I wondered what will be going on in his clearly busy little brain when he realizes Daddy is not here after tomorrow.

Every day when the girls get home from school and he hears the side-door open, he flings his toys down and flies over to see who's there. He's always happy to see the girls, but the sun cannot blaze any brighter in the sky than the goofy 8-fanged grin that he sports when Daddy's home. It is always accompanied by a belly-laugh and almost always a special man-cub growl...("It's Daddy! Party time....let's get ready to ru-u-u-u-m-m-m-mble!") "Mamm-mmma!" gets a special love-grin and a giggle that's all my own, and I love it. But I wonder how long it will be until I hear the Daddy laugh again, or if he will still do it the same way when the Beloved comes back home. And I don't know the answer to either question. Nor do I know how to navigate the recesses of the non-verbal toddler mind to answer the clearly present but unspoken questions that I will inevitably see etched on his beautiful little face when it's "just" Mommy or a siss-s-s-s-s-eee coming through that door.

A sad and pensive stretch ahead here in our corner of the middle of nowhere, I fear.

Please keep the Beloved, his mission abroad, and ours here at home in your prayers.

Prayers for the parish family...

...at Holy Name Cathedral in Chicago, which was devastated by fire earlier today. It's a grand old place - went to Mass there on special occasions and weekend treks into the city when I was young. Hate to see news like this.

Happiness, Love, and Joy...

...to our dearest Clam, newly wedded to her darling Canuck!

Keep them in your thoughts and prayers...they've worked hard to get to their big day.

Prayers for Phillip Johnson

For those of you who may have missed this young man's story, which I've been following thanks to a tip from Cavey, it's worth taking a few minutes to read about what's going on in his life and juxtapose it against what going on in yours.

Phillip, a 25 year-old Naval Officer, learned in October learned that he has an inoperable brain tumor, roughly the size of a lime. Scroll to the oldest of his posts for more detail. His reflections on his vocation, his illness, and his journey toward embracing God's will in his life will bring a tear to your eye.

Please remember this brave young man - and, God willing, future priest - in your prayers

A Quick Break from Helo Hiatus...

Yes, Helo Mom is alive and well. The saga has continued from a distance over the past week. The Athlete has been out of the area - but not far from his phone - since Christmas Eve. We are up to 2-4 hours of evening conversation per night between the two young people...and to sum it all up, let's just say he's very anxious to return home to his little non-girlfriend Cheerleader. (I don't know why the pretense re: nomenclature persists, but it does - I'm scared to ask the girl about it lest I jinx something or get glared-at).

Anyway. We went to the regional "Cinders" Mass as usual, due to the Beloved's Sunday 7-3 stint. The Athlete called shortly after we returned home, chipper and chatty when I answered, and asked me how Mass went (don't ask me why, I just cracked up at the question). I reassured him that it was just fine, and we actually had a rarely-bestowed VERY GOOD homily about the Holy Family as well as the vocations of married life and parenting from conception to death. Thinking that I was boring him, I handed the phone over to the Cheerleader, and apparently the Church conversation continued. Somewhere around the 45-minute mark, the Cheerleader shoved the phone back into my hand and said "someone" had questions and wanted to talk to me.

What ensued was a 30 minute Q&A session regarding the Athlete's reservations about Catholicism and his potential for final conversion - as has been revealed in previous posts and comments, the kid's got a lapsed Catholic Dad, a strident Methodist Mom, and most damningly of all, perhaps, a DOR "Catholic" school education. No wonder he's confused!

He started out by declaring himself as a "waiting until marriage" (good to know!), politically/morally conservative, ardently pro-life and faith-centered kinda guy. (I had gleaned as much by observation over the past few years, but it was good of him to confirm these things). The main points of Capital Letter Contention: Purgatory (got the good lifetime Protestant Bible-camp goer's "I've read the Bible from cover to cover several times and it's not in there" spiel), Confession (as a Sacrament as opposed to a privately-conducted conversation with Christ at one's own convenience), Gay "Marriage" (between non-Catholics, anyway), Abortion (he has 3rd party concerns about the issues facing rape victims and life-threatening conditions for mothers), and barrier-method Birth Control for married people who wish to use it.

Whew! (I'm gearing up for Transubstatiation and the Immaculate Conception of the Theotokos next...)

So, I did my level best at teen-oriented impromptu apologetics. (The Beloved was nearby and high-fived me for a few clever, well-placed sports analogies.) I had much more to say, but kept it brief. I think I clarified a lot for him and made some forward progress - he thanked me profusely and said he understood many things much better now, and had a lot more to think about. As do I.

Helo Mom is taken aback by the sudden, out-of-the blueness of the questions, flattered to be the one he's chosen to ask, and feeling a great deal of responsibility for providing fruit-producing answers to these questions. I wish we had a solid young priest - locally - to whom I could entrust this nice boy and his questions for far better answers and lived-by-example formation than I can possibly provide him. Regardless of this kid's present or future association with our family, I sense that he's seeking out information and answers that will shape the rest of his life and how he lives it.

Helo Mom is feeling the gravity of this assignment. How to guide without overwhelming with too much information? Would a 17-1/2 year old follow through with book recommendations? Probably not. So...what's a Helo Mom to do?

(Calling on wouldn't-it-be-ideal-future-Bp. Richtsteig of Rochester...)

;-)

In the meantime, all prayers and positive thoughts for this good young man, his soul, and the wisdom of his chosen answer-bearer would be appreciated.

Not a prayer request I wanted to make...

...but please keep our dear Thorn and family close in your prayers.

Too verklempt to continue.

Please - prayers for my friend...

...the Boy's Godfather, whom I love like the younger brother I never had.

He has a lovely wife, a successful firm in only 2 years since start-up, a boundlessly generous heart...but then suddenly the market's tanked, it's Christmastime, work's busy, he has 3 kids aged 4 and under, he's not sleeping...he's severely, George Bailey depressed. He has a wonderful life, really, but like many people who suffer from depressive disorders, he doesn't see it.

I'm very worried. All of my standard rallying tactics have failed, and that's saying something. I will be having a heart to heart with him tomorrow and will not rest until he seeks outside assistance.

Please keep my friend in your prayers, and wish meddlesome me luck.

St. Dymphna, pray for us!

Prayers for Mrs. Martin

Stephanie's mom is heading home to be with our dear Lord. The hour is imminent.

Please pray for Dorothy, and for our dear Digi and family.

As we enter into Advent today, let this be a special time of hope and peace for your family, amiga, until you meet again.