2017 The Year of my body

Hello!
I write this blog in thanksgiving to God for my health. Bless all eyes reading this with good health too, please, Lord. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

The temple, my body, was the locus of 2017.
In April of this year (2017) I was diagnosed with breast cancer.
Thanks be to God, it was, as my oncology doctor put it, of "the garden variety,” a happy diagnosis.
After the lumpectomy, I had radiation for five days, two times a day in June.
Only checkups from here, praise God.
Ladies, please, please, please, get  your yearly mammogram. I almost skipped mine, but the Holy Spirit urged me to make an appointment in April. My cancer was caught early, Stage 1, thanks be to God. Beforehand knowledge is critical.

Antecedent to the cancer treatment, I had to have a biopsy on the the area where the abnormality was located on the mammogram.
I had to lay on my side when the biopsy was done.
The doctor dove  into my breast 7x trying to get a sample.
There is no anesthesia given, just numbness around the area.
Ouch.
He asked me how I was doing after about the 4th pinch. I told him I was fine and he joked, "We've only done one or two." I answered facetiously, "More like 4 times." He reprimanded me good-naturally, "You aren't supposed to be counting,” as he took 3 more samples.
When the pain became excruciating, I united my suffering with Christ's suffering when the crown of thorns was placed and forced into his skull. I sensed Christ next to me as I gritted my teeth; a white light surrounded me as the doctor continued gouging me.

The doctor finished and I was helped to my feet. The nurse assistants looked bedazzled, probing my facial expression (I thought), "Are you alright?" they asked.

I imagined my face white as Moses' when he spoke to God on the mountain. I knew I had spoken to God, no words needed.
In reality I bet I appeared disheveled and stunned.
"I'm good." I blushed.
The girls’ reaction to my facial expression was a confirmation: Jesus was with me, and that made me happy.

My surgical cancer doctor,  who performed the lumpectomy,  was inordinately adept.
During treatment, the most benevolent of nurses  and doctors tended to me.
I pray for them daily.

Genetic testing was done and blessed be God, I wasn’t prone to breast cancer, but the test did reveal I am predisposed to colon cancer.
That prompted me to have  my first colonoscopy.
Thanks be to God, no colon cancer.

Lastly: three univited fibroids were growing in my uterus. If you don’t know about fibroids, google it,   They are acutely annoying.
This prompted me to have a hysterectomy, where my doctor also found I had endometriosis.

This year was a blessing from God as I’m ending 2017 with hardiness.


"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Bible study without me, again

Hello and welcome,
I didn't make it to bible study today, so I'm going to do a bible study myself.
Matthew 5:38-48
This week's Gospel is especially difficult for me to put into practice.
As Fr Juan Carlos put it rather succinctly at 5p mass last night: you are to pray for those who hurt you, but not a prayer for them to go to Hell. A prayer for blessings and graces on them.
And I do pray for blessings and graces for those who hurt me, but I still want justice.  Lord, please help me with this failing of mine.
As I listened to Father's homily last night, I heard the Lord teaching me the same lesson he's been wanting me to learn for years.
I wasn't asking for God's grace to help me love my enemies. Once again, I think I can do better than God and just handle things myself.
Where can I begin to learn this lesson? That's the easy part. It's simple, and on-going.
I've got to keep releasing my will to God's; I must always return to God and ask for his grace.
Thank goodness God doesn't love like we love, and has such compassion and understanding for our behavior.
With his help, and only his help, am I able to do what's humanly impossible to do.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

A reading for the citizens of North Texas

Hello and welcome,
I know for those of us who aren't Trump supporters, this past week has been hard on us. And, I imagine, Trump supporters aren't happy with the division Trump's actions are causing, even if they believe what he is doing is right.
Take heart, everyone, because

If my Catholic faith has taught me anything, it is this: to rely on the Lord in ALL things.
Imagine how hard it was for Jesus' mother, Mary, to witness her son's crucifixion and to rely on the Lord during that most difficult of times, but with God's grace, she did witness it and saw Jesus risen from the dead too.
The things Trump is doing, whether you think they are good or bad, is calling on us as Christians to rely on God.
Our faith is being tested, but God is with us.
We need our Savior more than ever.

God is talking to us as a nation through Trumps actions. God is calling us to be peacemakers and lovers of all, and He will give us the grace to create positive, uplifting, change.
God brings good where evil thinks it triumphs.
God blesses you and keeps you & God blesses America. For this I pray, in Jesus precious name. Amen.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Jesus has come to stay

Hello and thanks for reading,
2016 was a strong spiritual year for me, and I want to make sure I write about it.
In February the HS gave me the gift of tongues.

I'm telling you this because I want to encourage you: if a sinner like me can receive the gift of tongues, anyone can! :) God wants to do great things in our lives - if we'd just let Him.

My faith was shaken a bit in 2016 because of some unsavory goings-on at my job, but when Advent came, a new attitude about my work situation came with it.

I allowed the HS to truly enter into my life, and on all levels. I fell in love with the idea of waiting for Jesus' birth, through Advent. I've always been a bit of a rebel and God used this to help me understand that Catholic's ways are not the ways of the world. I would hear Christmas music and think, "It's not Christmas yet." When I could control what I listened to, I made myself refrain from listening to Christmas music. (Not that listening to Christmas music before Christmas day is bad, but my thinking was that it wasn't appropriate until the actual day of Christmas - which marks the beginning of the Christmas season. Advent is the time before Christmas and is purposely made to make us wait.)

So I waited.

While I waited I availed myself of one of the Church's most powerful sacraments:  confession. *

I looked more closely at Mary. How blessed we are to have a mother who thinks of us before herself - she's told her cousin Elizabeth is going to bear a child and goes in haste to help her. Never mind telling anyone about the baby she's carrying! How great her faith in God is and what an example. The angel appears and then leaves her. She doesn't hear from the angel again. She perseveres through faith.

When Christmas did finally arrive, my waiting paid off. I cleaned my house extra well to welcome our King. I thought about how I wanted God to find my life in the last month of December 2016. *How would I account for my actions? Did I have gifts for the new born King? Had I used the talents He gave me wisely to spread love and peace? I found myself sorely lacking, but then I knew the HS would fill in the gaps for me - I can't even approach God without His grace - and I thanked God for the blessings in my life, promising to do better. I am continuing my thankfulness everyday, asking for the light that showed the wise men where Jesus was, to be my guiding light as well. Help me Lord, to be Your light to those around me. No more hiding my baptismal and confirmation lights - help me shine, Lord.

I blasted Christmas music in my car, at work, everywhere. I sang terribly along with it. My apologies to those who heard me. I gazed lovingly at the manger. Christ had been born in my heart and I want to keep Him there.

I'm sad the Christmas season is over, but Fr Jason Cargo at St Joe's CC made the transition so much smoother with a wonderful homily by Deacon Tim, specifically about the baby Jesus and the wise men, and a gorgeous scene of candles on the altar. Light! God is our Light and Salvation.

Thank you Tara for sending me this lovely picture so I can add it here.

Allow God to do wonderful things in your life; as Fr Dankasa often says, "Let God be God."
Let His light shine in you and through you.


"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Good-bye 2016

I can't believe the last blog post I made was in April 2015!
Not that anyone besides me has probably noticed. Thanks for reading "family"! LOL :0)

My dear uncle Fred, the eldest of my father's siblings, went to be with the Lord in the Spring of this year. There is now only one sibling alive from my dad's brothers and sisters. Thanks be to God she's in good health. Her and her husband.

A friend from El Paso died this year too. Gilbert, may you rest in peace. Onelia, you and Gilbert remain in my prayers.

It seems 2016 was the year for many deaths; esp in the music world: Prince. He remains a sweet reminder of my high school days. George Michael. David Bowie. Merle Haggard. Leonard Cohen.
Comedian: Garry Shandling.
Actors: Gene Wilder. Alan Rickman, Carrie Fisher, Alan Thicke
Boxer: Muhammad Ali


On a personal note, I've grown closer to our Lord than ever before, and for that alone I am grateful for the year 2016.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

The BEST Lent EVER, 2015

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for finding me worthy of sending me sufferings, especially during this Lenten Season, that I may grow ever closer to you. I unite my sufferings, just as St Faustina did, to the agony of your beloved Son, Jesus, in his crucifixion, in atonement for my sins and those of the whole world. In Jesus' name. Amen.

     Thursday morning began like all Thursdays, I just happened to be running a little later than usual. I was in the midst of doing "one last thing," before walking out the door, when I received the call from my brother, Carlton.
     "Deb, I don't know what's happened to mom. I called for an ambulance. She's unresponsive. I need you to come over here right now."
     "Ok."
     As Carlton drove us to the emergency room, his words tumbled out in explanation:
     "I don't know what happened; last night she was fine. She went to bed a little earlier than usual, but she seemed fine. I know she got up this morning, because the light was on in the kitchen. When I saw the light on, I knew she was awake and I'd go check on her when I was done with my shower, which was our routine. Once I was done with my shower and went into her room, I saw that she had one foot on the floor, the other on the bed, and her body kind of crumpled against the bed. She looked like she was sleeping, but then I saw drool coming out of her mouth...When I tried to get her to talk to me, she wasn't acknowledging me; I knew something was terribly wrong. I called the ambulance then," Carlton was still visibly very upset.

     I did my best to reassure him, "You found her quickly and called the ambulance, so she's going to be all right." I had to believe this myself, so I did my best to sound convincing.
     When we reached the Emergency room, we weren't allowed to see Mom right away, which was frustrating for me, and Carlton too, I'm sure. I began thinking about the last conversation mom and I had...I think we spoke on Tuesday night? Would I hear her voice again?
     Since we were nearing the end of Lent, I began to look for connections between the woe I was feeling about my mom's health, and Christ's afflictions during his Crucifixion. Images from the stations of the cross came to mind and I found myself really empathizing with Our Blessed Mother; she had to witness her son's anguish and could do nothing about it. I didn't know what physical and/or mental agony my mother was undergoing, and there wasn't anything I could do either. I took comfort knowing the Mother of us all knew my pain and understood what I was feeling.
     At long last we were allowed into the ER. Carlton reached mom first.. He was sobbing loudly as he looked at his mother. I gently nudged him away and started talking to mom, "Mom, Carlton and I are here and we love you. We're praying for you and know you are going to get better. We love you. Know that the Blessed Mother is here with us too. I'm praying for you." There was a ventilator tube in mom's throat, leading to her lungs, and helping her breath. Her eyes were open, but she didn't seem conscious of what was going on around her. Tears cascaded down my face. The question again arose in my heart, would I ever hear mom's voice again? Was mom going to die?

     Thanks be to God, mom has many friends at church, and I began phoning them, asking them to tell everyone at church about my mom being in ICU, and to please start praying for her complete recovery. I also called our parish priest, requesting his presence at the hospital. He arrived within the hour, blessing mom and giving her the anointing of the sick. I asked him if this anointing would also serve as Last Rites, and he said yes. He remained with us as the neurosurgeon came in and spoke to us.
    The neurosurgeon, we found out, was also Catholic (as were most of the nurses in the ICU; they even attended the church we did). I thought to myself, "God's hand is in this," and felt at peace. The doctor didn't have much to tell us, other than mom was going to have an MRI done, so we could assess what happened, if there was any damage to her brain.
     While we watched mom being wheeled to the MRI, more tears. Carlton and I hugged and cried. Again, the worry: was mom in pain? Since my brother is agnostic, I could only say prayers in my head, which added to my suffering. I felt deserted by those closest to me, and I understood the despair Jesus must have felt when his disciples fled and denied him as he was being led away.
     I pleaded with the Lord to spare mom any discomfort.I wanted to take on whatever pain she was feeling; I can handle it, Lord, send it to me, I silently prayed, adding Help me, Jesus, please give me courage to bear this grief. Thank you Lord. 
     The MRI and cat-scan gave us some good news: there was no blood on the brain, and no signs of a stroke, praise the Lord! The stroke mom had in 2013 appeared on the MRI, and the neurosurgeon told us mom had had a seizure, possibly due to high blood pressure, or dehydration. With this information, mom was moved to ICU. The ventilator tube was still in her throat, as well as various other tubes. She looked shrunken and delicate. More tears.

     As mom was moved to ICU, I felt like I was walking into a dark cave; they laid Christ's body in the sepulcher. If before this experience I hadn't had an idea what misery looked and felt like, I did now. Mom wasn't responding to touches, or our voices, but we continued speaking to her and kissing her. I prayed without ceasing, or so it seemed. When I became discouraged or despondent,besides praying the  rosary several times, and the Divine Mercy chaplet, I called an ACTS sister and she prayed with me; I asked God for special blessings on all those praying for mom. Mom looked terrible: her lips and mouth were swollen as her body tried to fight the intrusive tube down her vocal chords.More tears came when I forgot to look past the patches on her cheeks that held the ventilator in her mouth, instead of just seeing mom.

This is how a ventilator tube works.

     Mom had to be strapped to the bed to keep her from reaching to pull the tube from her mouth. Then there was the "cleaning" of the ventilator tube; this was when another tube was put down mom's throat to clear any mucus or saliva that may have gone down the ventilator, into her lungs. At these "cleanings," I had to leave the room; I just could not bear to see mom struggling with the tube in her mouth as they cleaned her.As the days knocked against each other, the respiratory doctor would come in and tell the nurses to reduce her dependence on the ventilator. Mom was carefully and slowly breathing more and more on her own. But that ignoble ventilator wasn't going anywhere until mom could breath more than fifty-percent on her own. The respiratory doctor had the nurses give mom  steroids to reduce the swelling in her mouth, tongue and lips, so the tube could be removed. Pick up your cross and follow me.
     As I've already mentioned, Carlton and I kissed mom relentlessly on the forehead and stayed close by her at all times. Attached to the ventilator tube is a machine that beeps loudly if mom makes a sudden movement, or has problems breathing, and it keeps count of how many breaths mom takes in a minute. Carlton and I learned how to read this machine and I kept praying the number of breathes she took on her own would increase.
     Even more tears; and when I thought I was done crying and doing okay, I'd just look at mom and the tears would gather and release, gather and release, gather and release...Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem who weep for him; I asked the Father again to please forgive my sins and to create a new heart in me, for Him, and for all of his sufferings. 
    On the work front, for me at least, the devil was creating as much chaos as possible. My principal accused me of not being "a team player," and she wanted proof that I was at a hospital. The nurse at my school was furious for having to "do my job," in addition to hers, since "she didn't ask to do my job." When she and I spoke on the phone, she never asked how mom was doing. In fact, she and my principal both wanted me to go in to work for a "half-day," at least. This request was out of the question for me.
Nothing could pry me from my mother's side.The Pharisees didn't believe Jesus was who he said he was; they considered his miracles blasphemy and works of the devil.

     My ACTS sister gave me Psalm 91 to pray and meditate on as time allowed, and I prayed it fervently for all my co-workers and asked God to "forgive them, as they knew not what they were doing," while I wrestled with my anger; what I really wanted to do was lash out at them for their lack of compassion and mercy, but I knew this wasn't how Jesus treated those who beat, mocked and crucified him. I prayed instead, Heavenly Father, transform these angry feelings. Bless me with the grace to see my co-workers as children of God. Help me Heavenly Father and I ask for forgiveness for any wrong I've done to my co-workers too. Please forgive us Father. He did too. After a few days of emails sent to me and my counseling supervisor that were accusatory and depicted me as not having a "whatever it takes attitude," the Lord blessed me with the words to refute the accusations confidently, without malice of any kind; and work no longer bothered me.
     Thank you Lord, for expanding my empathy toward our Lord's Passion. I was learning so much and growing closer to our Lord.
     Carlton's friends came to the hospital: one prayed over mom and the other brought her a pretty potted plant. None of my friends came to the hospital, but I felt loved and thought of by the many texts of support I received. Mom's sisters called and mom's friends were in constant contact; they visited often throughout her stay in the ICU, praise the Lord, The lighter moments, respites, really, came when friends visited, bringing flowers and gifts for Easter. Besides my obsessive praying, mom's friends were also praying many, many, many rosaries and the Divine Mercy.. At one point, when I was anxious about the ventilator tube,  looking out the window of the hospital, as the sun was setting, I saw a white cross in the reflection of the building across from mom's building. God was reminding me of the resurrection and it gave me hope.
     One rule Carlton and I came up with while mom was in the ICU: mom was not to be left alone; one of us, or friends,  had to be with her at all times. Which meant one of us had to sleep in the room with her at night. When I say "sleep in the room," I mean sleep on the only recliner in the room. It's wasn't comfortable, but it allowed us to be close to mom during the evening, and that's what we needed most. I offered up my discomfort for the souls in purgatory. Pick up your cross and follow me.

One of mom's friends brought her this statue; it is from Fatima.

      My brother and I began a routine: if I stayed the night, he went home to sleep, returning in the morning to relieve me; if he stayed the night, then I was morning relief. My heart ached when I was away from mom. I appreciated every moment I was with her, because now I was facing the reality of her being 82... More tears when I thought about this reality. I would think to myself, "I could spend every waking moment with her and not add a day to her life!" UGH.
     When I spent the night, sometimes I would wake up in the middle of the night just to watch her breathe. Seeing her chest rise and fall told me she was still with us, and I thanked God for every blessed minute. The disciples were caught off guard with Christ's death; they couldn't fathom Christ dying, or being crucified. When Christ died on the cross, I pondered the piercing of Mary's soul, and the pain of loss the disciples felt. The Resurrection is what gives all of us hope. 
     There was one particular day that was even more difficult than the previous ones: mom regained consciousness, but because of the medicine, she made strange requests. She told me she needed an iron because there were many clothes to iron. She insisted I stop a nurse when they passed by the room, to ask for an iron. When she realized I wasn't going to ask a nurse, she waved a nurse in herself. The nurse smiled and said, "Sweetie, I'll bring you an iron tomorrow. But we don't need to iron today." She winked at me and left the room. This calmed mom a bit. But later that evening and into the night, mom was extremely restless and anxious. It was like she couldn't be at peace; she wanted to remove the tube and she wanted to get out of the bed. Carlton used his most soothing voice, petting mom's arm and kissing her face to calm her, but mom's fidgeting only increased. I just watched, helpless. This particular night was my turn with mom. The doctors gave her something to help her sleep, but the medicine didn't start working until 5:30 the next morning, and it kept her asleep for the rest of the day.
     On Monday of the following week, the respiratory doctor gave permission to remove the ventilator tube!

     Once the ventilator tube was removed, mom could be moved to a "regular" private room in the hospital. God blessed her with a spacious "recovery" room! It had tables and a real fold out bed! Patients on this floor had a snack room filled with coffee, cereals, and ice cream. Now when friends visited, Carlton and I could offer them something to eat or drink. Thanks be to God, again, mom only stayed the weekend in this room. From here she was transported to a rehabilitation center, which is where I am typing the rest of this post. Mom's "old wounds," from her stroke, reared their ugly heads and have forced her to work with a physical therapist, an occupational therapist and a speech therapist. Her voice was extremely hoarse from the tube, and has only now (two or three weeks later!) sounding a little more normal, but not by much.
     The rehab center is also very nice; comfortable chairs everywhere, and a large lounge area in the middle where people could chat,  read, or work on puzzles. Mom's room was on the second floor and had a huge window where you could see an open field, or the parking lot, .
     There were two geese that sat underneath some trees and mom and I liked to watch them. I've been spending every day with mom and a couple of nights; Carlton comes in the evening, since he's returned to work. Mom looks incredibly tired and admitted to me she felt tired. Her hair has a great perm on it so she looks good, with curls caressing her face. I prayed a prayer of gratitude, thank you Lord for returning mom to us. 
     The decision to sleep at the rehab center wasn't made right away, but then I thought of the name of the place: it was a rehab hospital. Mom was still in the hospital and I needed to stay with her. This time the bed was a tiny fold-out chair. On the night that I almost decided not to sleep at the rehab center, she fell in the bathroom.  I found her laying on her side, looking up at me with the surprise of a child. She appeared extremely bewildered by her environment and unsure what to do. She was too heavy for me to lift, and since it was 3:30 in the morning, I wasn't thinking clearly. I didn't call for a nurse. I held her walker tightly as she pulled herself upright again. Once she was standing up, she was able to use the restroom and get back to bed. Then Jesus said to his disciples: If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. 

    Thanks be to God, mom is now home again with Carlton. Talks have begun of her going to live with a dear friend, and all of us are seriously considering the offer. Mom has already said yes. There is a bed in the bedroom where mom would sleep, so most of her things would still be with Carlton.. Heavenly Father, your will be done. Always. In Jesus Precious name. Amen.
     Remember, GOD is GOOD, ALL THE TIME; ALL THE TIME, God is GOOD. Be blessed and happy Easter!
     If you're wondering why I can say this was the BEST Lent ever, it's because our Lord blessed me with an opportunity to grow in him. I found a place where I love him more and seek him and his will in ALL things; I used  to only ask God's advice on big issues. Now I ask the Lord to help me in ALL decisions; from which clothes I should wear to work, to which route is the safest to drive to work. I'm in constant dialogue with Christ and his Blessed Mother. I see the Blessed Mother in a new and sympathetic light too, growing closer to her, and loving her even more than I did. Jesus' Passion became real to me and I am beholden unto him for this awakening and to God for finding me worthy to share in just a tiny taste of our Lord's Passion.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

We had a good time - 10 years and some months living with mom (Part 1)

Heavenly Father,
I praise you and thank you for the time you allowed my mother and I to live together. May she be just as blessed living with my brother. 
In Jesus' name. Amen.

My mom DOES NOT like going to the doctor!
For ANY reason!
Even good news.
Truthfully, unless Saint Michael the Archangel told her she had to go to the doctor, she'd rather just stay home and watch her "judge shows," (Judge Judy, Judge Mathis, Caso cerrado, etc).

Now for my brief "theory," on the two kinds of elderly people I think exist, and what their pill-taking, morning habits are:
The first "type" of elderly people DO NOT GO to the doctor OR take their medicine. 
This is not up for discussion. 
This is how they are, and this is how they want to remain until they die: doctor-less, pill-less, but rest-FULL. 
Anything that can be done after 8:00 a.m. is a welcome excursion.

The second "type" of elderly people GO to the doctor - even if they don't enjoy it - take their medicine, and are likely seen in Target stores cafeterias before 8:00 in the morning, but no later than 7:00 in the evening. 

My mother is in the first category, so it was a smite frustrating for me when, in the Fall of 2003, my mother had to be forced to see a cancer doctor when her breasts were bleeding! And apparently the bleeding had been happening for a few months, she just hadn't told anyone!
I only found out because mom's guardian angel gave me the opportunity to put away some of her laundry, which is when I saw red stains on mom's bras.

Mom, who was 70 at the time, did indeed have breast cancer; the tests revealed the cancer was only in one breast though, thanks be to God. Surgery was required, of course, to remove it. The doctor wasn't sure if chemotherapy would be needed at the time - he'd have a better idea once the surgery was done. Mom's cancer was a stage 3, out of a four point scale; four being the worst.

A first-time house buyer
As I considered the purchase of a home, my thoughts were mainly on my mom's health. 

I didn't relish the idea of her driving to and from her place to the doctor's office, which was an hour away from where she lived. She needed to be closer to her doctor, and to my brother and I, so we could help her with whatever she needed.

I was living in an apartment when all of this happened. I couldn't imagine all of mom's things fitting in an apartment with me. There wasn't an apartment large enough for all the things mom had accumulated in her seventy years of being on this planet. I knew then I had to purchase a home.

Not knowing what I was doing, and not as close to God as I am now, I didn't pray about my actions, or ask for God's guidance in any way, I just looked for a home and when I found one mom and I liked, I procured it. Which also means I didn't ask the Lord to send me the best real estate agent.

Despite my thoughtlessness of God's wishes for my life, I found what I thought was the perfect house: a 3BDRM, 2 BA, 2 car garage, with a huge fenced-in backyard for our dogs. 
The house was bought around Thanksgiving.
Even though the house wasn't near the doctors, it was closer than where mom lived at the time, and adjacent to my work place.

In January of 2004 mom had the surgery and I took off a week from work to care for her. Before, during and after the operation my brother and I were by her side, of course. I was moved with compassion for mom as she lay in her hospital bed. 
Only mom's sweet head, brown arms and legs appeared amongst the large, fluffy white pillows and bedsheets. She hated being in the hospital, but she took full advantage of the attention paid to her, bless her heart. 

Since I was to be mom's care taker for at least a week after the procedure, the nurses in the hospital taught me how to drain her tube.
This may gross some of you out, and if it does, my apologies. 

After breast cancer operations, patients have an "external drainage device," which captures fluid from the surgery site, into a collection device, or pouch. In order to make sure ALL the fluid was drained, I had to pinch the tube with one hand, and with my other hand, push the blood through the tube into the pouch, which hung a little below her waist. 
Every day a nurse came to the house and checked how her recovery was coming along. The nurse would empty the pouch and measure how much liquid had been drained; this was to give the doctors an idea of how her body was recovering. Eventually the red fluid would be turning to straw-colored.

So really, the first year with mom was just moving her into the house and making sure she felt as comfortable as possible, and for her recovery to go well.

I considered myself extremely fortunate, blessed and honored to care for my mom. She is such a blessing!


"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

2/1/03 Where were you when the shuttle exploded?

Hello Heavenly Father,

Thank you for all the changes going on in my life right now and providing the support I need amidst these changes. I offer my life to you; just as our blessed Mother said "Yes," to you, I too am saying "Yes," to you.

In Jesus' name. Amen.

I'm going through some writings I did long ago, and this is one of the gems I found.

Enjoy. :0)

Wednesday

Arrived in New Orleans, hopeful and awaiting good things. Went to the opening ceremonies @ 6:30 and the conference had a slide show of various places in NO with Moby's album "Play," as the music, which fit the photos perfectly.

I then rode the bus to hotel.

There was a guy on the bus, G, and we started talking. When he exited the bus with me, asking where Bourbon street was, I got really bold and asked if I could join him.

We walked Bourbon Street and G wanted to grab a bite to eat, so we ate at Crescent City Brewhouse. He paid for dinner, which was nice and unexpected.

We then went to Cafe Du Mond and parted ways around 11:15.

I looked for G at the exhibits, as he said he was a vendor, but never saw him again.

Thursday

The most boring day, as far as sightseeing.

The conference was okay.

Interesting sessions. New ideas in my head for teaching. Bought a sweatshirt.

Didn't go out Thursday night.

Friday

For some reason, I didn't write anything about what I did Friday.

Saturday night

I met up with A, a psychic (this was obviously before my true conversion to Christ.) I met thru the Haunted History tour website, at a bar for a drink.

I wouldn't be asking for a reading tonight; we were just two gals hanging out in the Big Easy.

A mentioned I looked like E's old gf, B. She went on to say that I was E's "type."

By which I think she meant he likes brunettes with long, dark hair.

(Background info on E. He's this guy I met a year or so ago, around my bday; it was my first time in NO. My bro and I took a Haunted History tour and E was our guide.)

After we finished our drinks, A took me to a great restaurant: Irene's.

On the way to the restaurant I found a $10 bill.

We talked as if old friends, covering all the hot topics: family, lovers, work, career changes, movies, and of course E.

She knew where he would be after his tour.

We debated my feelings about him, the possible outcomes, what did I want to accomplish?

I felt I needed to see E, but I wasn't sure exactly why: would seeing him bring the closure I wanted and needed?

I wish A had given me a reading - or at least tell me that seeing E was only going to befuddle me more, even though that probably wouldn't have quenched my desire to contact him.

I did, however, gather more information about him from our interaction, and what his lifestyle is like, so that was good.

So, yes, we did go to the bar where he appears once tours are finished.

When he arrived, my eye searched for changes since our last visit:

He'd gained weight;

Smartly dressed, as always.

I was most certainly curious about two things:

was I still attracted to E?

if so, what was the attraction?

He was able to join us after a bit of chatting with "leftovers," from his tour.

E and A chit chatted, while I stared at him, waiting for him to address me.

Same handsome, chiseled, facial features.

E was the epitome of romance to me. He is like the guy on the cover of those cheap romance novels some women are known to purchase. Those men are attractive, even if they are on the cover of flirtatious books.

E was saying he made $160 last week on tours. He didn't think he'd be able to make his house payment this month. I gave him the $10 I found.

He responded, "My dad always said, 'if someone gives you money, you take it.'"

"Your dad's a smart man," I grinned at him.

"This deserves a hug," E and I embraced, "and a kiss."

He kissed me on the forehead - a true sign of a friendship.

I looked at A and winked.

She smiled, "An expensive hug."

E said his cell phone was turned off on Thursday, due to lack of payment.

E would not make eye contact with me as I stared at his face, memorizing every movement.

He didn't ask about the conference I was attending - the whole reason I was in NO - he didn't ask me anything. Not a good sign.

"I'm going to Yo Mama's, would you all like to join me?"

A's former bf owned that bar, so he asked A if she'd be comfortable going.

"Sure, no problem."

I mentioned how I was waiting for a call from friends from Dallas, who were joining me in NO, adding, "depends on who you are meeting there."

"My gf is supposed to be there, or here. She's not here, so she must be at Yo Mama's waiting."

"I don't know, E, that might be awkward."

"No, it won't be awkward. It's not like that."

I thought to myself,  'It's not like that'?? What did that mean?

I further expressed my concern, "For you it might not be awkward."

"C'mon, let's go. I bought a motorcycle. I could give you a ride on it."

I look at A. She gives me an "it's okay," nod.

So we walk to Yo Mama's and E shows us the motorcycle parked out front.

Upon arrival at the bar E grabs his things and prepares the bike for our ride.

Off to the side, I tell A, "He can't make his house payment, but he bought a bike?"

"What do you think of that?"

"Messed up."

"He's a guy. He likes his toys."

A continued, "Do you think you could live this lifestyle? Be in the French Quarter every night...put up with his attitude?"

I answered inside myself, "No."

E voiced concern for my miniskirt - might be an issue on the bike.

"It's fine, let's go."

He asked me to lean in with him when he made turns.

My arms wrapped around him tightly as he picked up speed in New Orleans, in the French Quarter.

The realization of where I was and what I was doing, relaxed me and I enjoyed the ride.

I was a teensy bit afraid - I wished I could remember how much he'd had to drink - and we weren't wearing helmets...LA has a "don't need a helmet" law - crazy.

When he sped up, I pleaded, "E, please don't go so fast." He'd slow down, only to accelerate again. It was a gorgeous night, a bit on the chilly side, but comfortable.

I wanted to say something to him during the ride, but where to begin?

Instead I remained quiet.

I did manage to ask him how he could afford a bike, but not pay his house payment.

"It's only a $120/mth," was the avoiding-the-question answer.

I asked him if AA had his truck, or if he had sold it. He still had it. No, she wasn't driving it.

It was at this moment I noted E could make this ride as long or as short as he liked; he was in total control.

Suddenly we were back at Yo Mama's.

The youth who were on E's tour, were also Yo Mama's bar, and one of the girls requested a bike ride.

E took her for a quick spin.

F, my friend from Big D, called and said she was in Baton Rouge. This was at 10:30 p.m. A and I guessed they'd probably be in the city in another hour.

We proceeded inside Yo Mama's and sat at a booth.

Again, A's thoughtfulness showed in her behavior: she quickly sat on one side, at the edge of the seat.

E stood standing, waiting, I guess, for me to sit next to him.

I was waiting for A to move over...

When she didn't, I remarked, "I thought you'd move over."

"No, I like being on the end."

So I scooted into the booth opposite A. E sat next to me.

He bought us a round of drinks, probably using the ten dollars I'd given him. I had a local beer (don't remember the name now), A had a coke, and E had a beer.

AA, E's gf, came in a little after our drinks were served.

I saw her and asked A if that was her.

"Yes, I think so."

AA went straight to E. I thought E would want to sit next to her and I almost got up, but A slid over, "Hey baby," she addressed AA, "sit down."

She's got dark hair (it didn't look natural), short, slightly chubby, and light complected.

She said she was of Russian descent. I didn't find her particularly attractive. She reminded me of my friend G, only uglier. (Again, pre-Christ value judgments.)

E introduced us.

E talked a lot about the evenings tour, and how much money he'd made.

Someone gave him $20. AA wanted to know if it was a girl; E said he didn't look at the person who gave it to him.

A also remarked on E's bike, and how maybe he should sell it to make his house payment. He gave her the same "schpeel" he gave me about the monthly payment being only a $120.

AA seemed relieved we were giving her bf a hard time about  the bike.

E, probably uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading, left us to gamble. Yet another poor money choice, but before leaving our table he told AA, "I have been faithful to you our whole relationship. I do flirt, however, that's part of the job, to get tips."

AA showed A her stained glass portfolio and gave her a business card. I noticed AA didn't make an attempt to show me her work. A was impressed with what she saw. AA then proceeded to tell us how unhappy she was: her hubby cheated on her and how he'd gotten the woman he'd cheated with pregnant.

I asked how she came to NO.

AA's face showed relief in sharing her story: she met her hubby in CT - she revealed she's Jewish - and he got a job in NO at Harrah's. Well, he had since gotten fired and now his new gf had a baby on the way. I asked if she ran in to him much. She said on occasion and usually for alimony checks, but how that too would soon end, since next month was the last payment.

She seemed very angry and unsure how to express it. "I feel bad that happened (I guess she was referring here to the fact her former hubby was now a papa?), but it's nothing like he did to me. It's just not fair. He wasn't really grown up and I took care of him. I kind of feel that way with E's cell phone getting cut off; he's not doing well financially. We have a dog, Xena. E loves German Shepherds and wants to breed them.. She's bleeding all over the place right now; I'm more of a cat person."

She asked if A and I lived alone. We both do. She wanted to know if the space stayed cleaner with just us living there. LOL

I asked her if she thought she'd get married again and she said no. Better off living together, get to know someone real well first. E sat at the bar at one point and watched us talk. Most of the time it seemed he was watching me, as I think it would be difficult to see AA's face from where he was seated.

Around 11:30 my Dallas friends still had not called. It was getting late for A.

The brief break in conversation made it easy for A and I to say we needed to go.

E and AA said they were leaving as well.

We told E we were leaving as he was heading to the restroom. A suggested waiting until he returned to say good-bye.

When E returned, we gave our farewells. I don't think E even looked at me. What a strange ending!

I didn't say anything to AA.

A and I talked, of course, about E and AA's relationship, which appeared to us as one of convenience. AA just seemed very unhappy and grumpy. Almost to the point of, once she had a bit more money, she'd be gone. They seemed like friends, roommates, really, that slept together.

E won't leave NO, A says.

I won't leave Dallas.

My last thoughts as we walked away from the bar were: E, say good-bye.

So here's what happened with my friends from Big D, who were supposed to meet me in the French Quarter.They called just as A and I were leaving Yo Mama's and said they were half an hour away - go figure - and that they'd call when they were at the hotel. I asked R not to call, as I was really tired, having been up early and out and about all day, but that didn't seem to matter to her, who called about five times.

I thought to myself, "Next thing you know, they'll call the hotel room."

And they did.

I laughed and fell asleep.

Sunday, February 3, 2013

10 a.m.

New Orleans

Cafe Du Mond

The shuttle Columbia exploded over North Central Texas this morning around 8 a.m. It was 200,000 ft in the air. It's mission was to perform some space experiments. Communication was lost, then the shuttle exploded. 6 Americans and 1 Israeli on board. I pray their souls went straight to God and for blessings on the families. Truly sad and quite shocking.

I dressed, packed, heard the broadcast about the explosion, and then saw the footage. I called Carlton. He had also just seen the shuttle coverage. He was on his way to meet a friend to go biking.

Sunday, around 1:30 or so in the afternoon, in the lobby of the hotel room:

A couple of professors from Spain were sitting next to me, waiting to go on a swamp tour - they were expecting their guide to pick them up soon. (I noticed they had bags from the conference I attended, so I asked what they did.and they said they gave Summer classes in Madrid for exchange student/teacher classes.) They asked me to speak for them to the hotel about their swamp tour, since they didn't speak English very well.

I noticed the concierge wasn't at her desk. When the concierge returned, the professors wanted to know if the guide was still going to take them on the tour, and, if so, where were they? The concierge called the company and confirmed that the tour had already done a pick-up at the hotel. The tour company didn't see anyone, so they left, and wouldn't be picking up anymore today.

The Madrid couple was furious! Was their money (a $30 deposit) going to be refunded? The concierge couldn't refund the money, she patiently explained, she just booked the tours, and didn't have anything to do with the company themselves.

The Madrid couple was even angrier at this information.

The concierge called the tour company and they sent someone to talk to the couple, via me. The person they sent apologized profusely, but couldn't refund the deposit. In order to bolster their argument, the Madrid couple pointed to the brochure where it said the pick up was from 1:15-1:45. (The 1:45 had an asterisk on it.) The couple continued explaining: they'd arrived at the hotel from a previous swamp tour at 1:25. They saw no one to pick them up, etc, so they thought they still had time. The tour guide told me to tell them that the asterisk meant between that time, not the exact time.

The person from the swamp tour reiterated how sorry he was about the confusion. They had 25 people going on the tour, so they didn't have time to ask/tell the front desk person anything. This just made the Madridians even more livid, especially when told they weren't going to be compensated (in the tour company's defense, the brochure states NO REFUNDS)

The couple was flying out later, so they couldn't enjoy any other tours.

As I gathered my things to depart for the airport, the Madrid Couple thanked me for helping them, and asked for my address in order to send me an application for their Summer classes. They excitedly promised to treat me well, if I ever vacationed in Madrid.

I hope you enjoyed this memory as much as I did writing and remembering it.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Friendships

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for sending your Son to help me carry my cross; I am nothing without you!
In Jesus' name. Amen.
I've written a few blogs on the subject of friendships and I think I write on this topic as much as I do because amicability between folks is highly important to me.
When I become friends with someone, it is equivalent to cutting our wrists and mingling our blood, as Native Americans used to, and may still do, today.
Yes, this may seem extreme, but think about what  John 15:13 says, "There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends."

Sociability is an integral part of our humanness.
Our compatriot-relationships are precious connections where we are provided the opportunity to shine love and light into another person's world.
My very first alliance was with a dear cousin of mine, when I was in my early teens.
Our kinship was a free exchange of ideas and unconditional love for one another, and became the template for future bosom buddies, and I am blessed with powerful well-wishers by virtue of this blueprint.

I'm acknowledging all the wonderful, supportive intimates I've been blessed with first, as there is always more good than bad in most situations.
However, a recent association that became toxic did briefly ransack my concept of rapport.
Thank you Jesus for changing my heart, softening it, reminding me of the positives with this chum!
With Jesus' help and prayer, I reined my mind from obsessing on the negative.
I gained new insight due to this break, too: all things work for the greater glory of God and I rest easy knowing goodness was exchanged on both sides.
As I struggled to understand this person's sudden obvious lack of affinity for me, I began to realize that no one was worth trading in my approving, loving, sunny-faith in people to do right by their peers, for a nugatory, dark and cynical apathy toward everyone who is my comrade, or wanting to be an acquaintance.

On Sept 7th the reading at mass was MT18:15-20; Jesus gives specific guidelines for how to handle disputes with our persona grata!
I knew Jesus was hearing the pleas of my suffering heart!
In addition to these honeyed offerings, Jesus put another sweet balm on my fractured soul - the priest's homily - which affirmed how I was handling the situation.
I am now able to accept the fact that this confidant is not returning - and not only are they not returning - our closeness may not have been as benevolent and strong as I thought! :0(
As with all antagonistic affiliations, I'm sure the enemy was savoring all this chaos because it happened among two Catholics, with a third Catholic brought in to give the final death-blow; the former, not acceding to my bday and the latter, cancelling celebrating with me.
The Catholic church I believe in, and strive to create, has authentic, genuinely kind people;
sinners, yes, but a community with whom to emulate Christ's love, rejoicing in the relationship of our Lord and Savior, and loving one another. 
If I can't find this in my local Catholic church, where am I to find it?
The world offers me nothing but more heartbreak, and no resurrection.

By this blog, I pray for those who are having a hard time making/keeping friends - God is always ON - so continue to ask for excellent companions and have faith God is going to bless you & experience God's awesomeness!

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

"No talking ... until Noon!" rule

Heavenly Father,
Thank you for the many blessings you bestow on us, each and every day. Please continue to help me become more Christ-like. In Jesus' name. Amen.
Long, long, long ago, in a city that seems farther than fifty minutes away, I used to be one of those females whose first thoughts upon waking was about the gentleman I was dating, or had a crush on, or in a relationship with, and usually the "lucky" audience for these lovely "ponderings," was my one and only, older... brother.
I remember regularly obsessing about the next time "my love," and I were getting together, or thinking about ways to "help" him in his latest interest, never mind my issues...

At the time, I didn't understand that NO MALE wants to hear about other MEN, and most especially a BROTHER does not want to hear about ANY of his sister's romantic escapades!

And I must have blabbered once too often about someone, because one morning my homie emphatically instituted a rule of, "No talking about guys until noon!"
Of course when noon came around, I'd either forgotten what I wanted to say, or was too busy into whatever was going on to bother my sibling anymore.
Or perhaps my hermano just wasn't around the house at noon. (as was probably more often the case, lol)
Even though this angered and annoyed me at the time, looking back now, I'm glad my kin had this expectation.
Because, gradually, I did begin to wonder about issues besides the bloke(s) I was dating and thankfully this has continued into adulthood - shocking, I know! :OP
I realize, though,  there are still adults who obsess about their loves, so I came up with what I think are some compassionate reasons this behavior continues into adulthood:
#1. They didn't have a relative like I did who "laid down the law," ha ha.
#2. There isn't much else going on in a person's life, so why not just engross themselves in the "splendor of love"?
#3. Maybe there is too much going on in one's life and they want to distance themselves from their problems and this woman/man is an "easy, fun, safe topic."
#4. The "obsessor" is boring, or has a boring life, one of the two, conceivably both.

I am a romantic. I love love.
But I also know now, as a grown-up, that it takes more than life to make my life. 
When and if that blessed day arrives when I'm married and have children, once the children are old enough to date, I too will operate from the "No talking about guys/gals until noon!" rule.
:0) Thanks bro!

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Chess in Education - my second year as a school counselor

Hello God,
Thank you for continually blessing my family and me.
A special prayer for all those suffering from any kind of addiction;
may we always feel your comforting presence in our lives.
In Jesus' name. Amen.

Having had time to reflect on my second year as a school counselor, I find chess is a great metaphor for a school's hierarchy.

(in order from right to left in the above picture)

The King - anyone in a higher position than the principal - the superintendent, parents, "society at large"
The King can only move one square at a time, which reminds me of how legislature moves with regards to changes in the educational system.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
But perhaps not the most efficiently.

The Queen - the principal
S/he can move pretty much anywhere and in any direction.
One of the more dangerous pieces on the board, besides the King, of course.

The Bishops - the school counselor(s)
As a school counselor, I think of myself as being able to move, just like the bishops, only in diagonals.
There is only "so much," support and guidance I can give.

The Knights - teachers
The staff at my last school saw me as a part of "administration," which was exemplified when a teacher said to another group of teachers - during their lunch time - "I can't say what I'd like to say, since our counselor's in here." Everyone laughed, including me.
But really, just like the Bishops can only move in diagonals, the Knights are only allowed to move in certain spaces as well.
Bishops and Knights are good "blockers," for whatever the Queen and Rooks need done.
Teachers and school counselors are of "equal value," in my eyes.

The Rooks - the assistant principals
Also dangerous pieces - they can move wherever they like and in whatever direction they chose.

The Pawns - students, teacher assistants
I put the students as pawns only because they are the most vulnerable to the actions of those in charge of them, not because I see them as the "lowest" in numerical value.
Pawns can only move in one direction - forward - with two spaces allowed only in their first move - one space per move allowed thereafter.

For a better idea of what the "relative value," of a chess piece is, copy and paste this into your browser:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chess_piece_relative_value


"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

"Writing" to correct a wrong

Heavenly Father,
I trust in your mercy & forgiveness. Amen.

We've all had situations we wish we could make better - either by our words or by our actions.
I think God sends us these situations to see how "Christ-like" we really are, and in this particular case, I didn't do well by Him. (Hmm, I know this has been the subject of other blogs I've written, lol. And I know this won't be the last time I write about this either, as I am in constant need of God's Grace and Mercy.)

I wish I could make the circumstances better, but alas, just like the drummer boy who only had his tiny drum to play for Jesus, I only have my "small" writing to offer as penance.
I pray it serves His Will.

Unfortunately, dear reader, you will need to remain outside of certain details of the sentences below, as this blog is particular to one person, but I'm posting it as an atonement.
I do, however, pray you will be touched by God's

 always, in difficult and in manageable positions.

Dear friend,
I call you friend because we began as friends, and in my heart, we remain friends.
I'm not sure when or where our friendship/professional relationship became derailed, and to waste good energy enumerating these reasons subtracts from the spirit of why this blog is written: which is to focus on the positive and move forward.
I wanted a good friendship;
or at least a satisfying professional relationship;
I saw us as the "dream team."
We were going to take on the world and....win!!
We could do that, but it needed to happen with us working together.
I know I played a part in things going wrong.
But I was not alone in this relationship.
As much as I want to take ALL of the blame for the hurting & the negativity, and  I do want to take that on, because maybe then I can redeem myself, but that is not the reality of our plight;
besides, only God can redeem.
Again, I'm not writing this blog to say,
"Well this is where you did me wrong--"
"I did you wrong when I --"
 or
"If you hadn't done this, this wouldn't have happened--"
"I did you wrong when -- "
No;
This blog is about how much I respect you.
This blog is about how I think you are excellent at your job.
This blog is about how I learned a great deal from you;
I mourn the loss of opportunities to learn and grow more through our interactions.
I enjoyed your sense of humor, and laughing with you at some of the things that were serious (absurd, really), that we had to laugh at, or we'd cry, and/or become despondent.
You can say "poop," way easier than I ever can!!! I'm smiling now as I recall this particular conversation.
And the tales of your dog! Hilarious!
I remember your helpfulness, always thinking of two, rather than one, and me appreciating your aid beyond words or actions and unable to express my gratitude.
I didn't, however, remember some of the things you told me I needed to do, or how to handle certain cases, and you had to tell me again, or several times. I know that must have gotten old & quickly!
Okay, so I am not a quick study, lol.
I think I admitted this too quickly, lol, but it's an accurate statement.
But even for all the "mess" we found ourselves in, I will speak highly of you to whomever asks.
I never meant for things to take the path they did.
Never.
I don't think I'll ever have the convenience of telling you these thoughts in person, but I've got to get this out of me, because it's the truth and a wise man once said,
"the truth shall set you free."
So, I'm setting myself free from the adverse entanglement that thinks it has a permanent hold on us at this moment.
I am sad that our friendship/working relationship didn't work out well, but glad it did end with us talking to each other.
On some level I hope you can forgive me.
And I know you aren't asking me for forgiveness, but I forgive you.
God bless you.
XO,
Deb

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Hercules, let me explain

Heavenly Father,
Bless and guide all eyes reading this blog. May we always know you are with us, walking each day of our journey with us. In Jesus' name. Amen.

Dear Hercules,
We had a nice 2nd date

and we both agreed we had a good time.

I saw this as a great sign - I was looking forward to texts and our next meet-up...
As is your way, you tell me what you are doing over the weekend.
This let me know we weren't going to have time to see each other.
And then,

for 

5 

days.

Your birthday was on Thursday.
I thought I'd treat you to a dessert at

 on Wednesday, since I know you have your daughter on Thursdays and this particular weekend.
You agreed.
Another meet-up - with me initiating.
This was the second  meet-up I inaugurated.
I was

 Uh-oh, this is when
Thinking began...
as a feeling, really...
a tiny disturbance in the recesses of my heart.
Something was askew with my invitation.
Why was my request bothering me, niggling away at my brain while I worked?
Finally, when I had a moment to gather the

(scattered sparrows)

 that were my thoughts, I asked myself,
"What is it?!"
And with a sound like clapping thunder,
the answer welled up
and

spewed at me,

as if the thoughts were there all along, and (the thoughts were) disgruntled
because I'd ignored the obvious in my haste to celebrate your bday.
If I took you to

after

5

days

of

between us...

yes, yes, the encouraging

were
piling on top of each other...
I was -

*rewarding bad behavior.*

And gratifying bad behavior is a  

I was sad to cancel, but being true to myself meant more than a dessert with you on your birthday.

I'm sure this made no sense to you, since I didn't explain this very well in my text to you, mores the pity.
But I'm writing this blog in the hopes you will 

which can also translate to

So, Hercules, chase me, I like it when you chase me...

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa

Praying with Body, Mind, and Voice

Heavenly Father,
Bless my words to be gentle and enlightening. In Jesus' name. Amen.
I'm posting this information to educate my non-Catholic, and perhaps some Catholic friends, as to why Catholics sit, stand, kneel, etc, so much during the Mass.
This is from an insert in our church bulletin, which was taken from the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (USCCB), Sing to the Lord: Music in Divine Worship. Pastoral Liturgy Series 4. Washington, DC. USCCB, 2007.

I looked for it on-line, hoping I could avoid typing, but it wasn't posted.

Preface:
In the celebration of Mass we raise our hearts and minds to God. We are creatures of body as well as spirit, so our prayer is not confined to our minds and hearts. It is expressed by our bodies as well. When our bodies are engaged in our prayer, we pray with our whole person. Using our entire being in prayer helps us to pray with greater attentiveness.
     During Mass we assume different postures - standing, kneeling, sitting - and we are also invited to make a variety of gestures. These postures and gestures are not merely ceremonial. They have profound meaning, and, when done with understanding, can enhance our participation in the Mass.

_______________________________________________________________________________

STANDING
Standing is a sign of respect and honor, so we stand as the celebrant who represents Christ enters and leaves the assembly.

KNEELING
In the early church, kneeling signified penance. So thoroughly was kneeling identified with penance that the early Christians were forbidden to kneel on Sundays and during the Easter season, when the prevailing spirit of the liturgy was one of joy and thanksgiving. In the Middle Ages kneeling came to signify homage, and more recently this posture has come to signify adoration, especially before the presence of Christ in the Eucharist.

SITTING
Sitting is the posture of listening and meditation, so the congregation sits for the pre-Gospel readings and the homily and may also sit for the period of meditation following Communion.

PROCESSIONS
Every procession in the Liturgy is a sign of the pilgrim Church, the body of those who believe in Christ, on their way to the Heavenly Jerusalem. The Mass begins with the procession of the priest and ministers to the altar. The Book of the Gospels is carried in procession to the ambo (below is a picture of an ambo.)

The gifts of the bread and wine are brought to the altar. Members of the assembly come forward in procession -- eagerly, attentively, and devoutly -- to receive Holy Communion. We who believe in Christ are moving in time toward the moment when we will leave this world and enter into the joy of the Lord in the entered Kingdom he has prepared for us.

MAKING THE SIGN OF THE CROSS
We begin and end Mass by marking ourselves with the Sign of the Cross.  Because it was by his death on the cross that Christ redeemed humankind, we trace the Sign of the Cross on our foreheads, lips, and hearts at the beginning of the gospel, praying that the Word of God may always be in our minds, our lips, and in our hearts. The cross reminds us in a physical way of the Paschal Mystery we celebrate: the death and Resurrection of our Savior Jesus Christ.

BOWING
Bowing signifies reverence, respect, and gratitude.

GENUFLECTING
As a sign of adoration, we genuflect by bringing our right knee to the floor. Traditionally, Catholics genuflect on entering and leaving church if the Blessed Sacrament is present in the sanctuary of the Church. The priest and deacon genuflect to the tabernacle on entering and leaving the sanctuary. The priest also genuflects in adoration after he shows the Body and Blood of Christ to the people after consecration and again before inviting the people to Holy Communion.

ORANS

The priest frequently uses this ancient prayer posture, extending his hands to his sides, slightly elevated. Orans means "praying." Early Christians are frequently depicted standing in this posture, offering their prayers and surrendering themselves, with hands uplifted to the Lord, in a gesture that echoes Christ's outstretched arms as he offered himself on the Cross.

PROSTRATING

In this rarely used posture, an individual lies full-length on the floor, face to the ground. A posture of deep humility, it signifies our willingness to share in Christ's death so as share in his Resurrection (see Rom 6). It is used at the beginning of the Celebration of the Lord's Passion on Good Friday and also during the Litany of the Saints in the Rite of Ordination, when those to be ordained deacons, priests, and bishops prostrate themselves in humble prayer and submission to Christ.

SINGING

I thought about leaving this one out, since I think singing needs no explanation...but decided some clarifying on the importance of its significance in the Mass warranted being left in this post.

"By is very nature song has both an individual and a communal dimension. Thus, it is no wonder that singing together in church expresses so well the sacramental presence of God to his people." (United States Conference of Catholic Bishops, Sing to the Lord, no. 2) As we raise our voices as one in the prayers, dialogues, and chants of the Mass, most especially in the Eucharistic Prayers, as well as other hymns and songs, we each lend our individual voice to the great hymns of praise and thanksgiving to the Triune God.

PRAYING IN UNISON
In the Mass, the worshiping assembly prays in one voice, speaking or singing together the words of the prayers. By saying the same words at the same time, we act as what we truly are - one Body united in Christ through the Sacrament of Baptism.

BEING SILENT
"Silence in the Liturgy allows the community to reflect on what it has heard and experienced, and to open its heart to the mystery celebrated. (Sing to the Lord, no. 118)"  We gather in silence, taking time to separate ourselves from the concerns of the world and enter into the sacred action. We reflect on the readings in silence. We may take time for silent reflection and prayer after Holy Communion. These times of silence are not merely times when nothing happens; rather, they are opportunities for us to enter more deeply in what God is doing in the Mass, and, like Mary, to keep "all these things, reflection on them" in our hearts. (Lk 2:19)

CONCLUSION
The Church sees in these common postures and gestures both a symbol of unity of those who have come together to worship and also a mean of fostering unity. We are not free to change these postures to suit our own individual piety, for the Church makes it clear that our unity of posture and gesture is an expression of our participation in the one Body formed by the baptized Christ, our head. When we stand, kneel, sit, bow, and sign ourselves in common action, we give unambiguous witness that we are indeed the Body of Christ, united in body, mind, and voice.

"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa