My Space

I have a little sewing room that’s off the bedroom; it was one of the main selling features when buying the house. It used to be a separate bedroom up until the late 1970′s when the previous owners (actually two owners ago) cut that bedroom into its present sitting/sewing room and a full bathroom. I can shut off the water to the tub when reaching into the shelves in the sewing room.

The sewing room has two windows facing north and east. Great morning light. Steady natural light throughout the day. It’s toasty in winter and cool in the summer (the AC is in a window closest to an outlet).

Currently the room is very cluttered because I’m working on a project that should be done in the next two weeks. But I will show you my icon wall that’s behind the sewing machine.

My personal icon wall

I suppose they are not “technically” icons but they get me into the right place. Starting on the upper left, clockwise, is Dali’s Christ of St. John. Picked that up from a Saver’s, BTW. Next is Petrus Christus’ The Virgin of the Dry Tree. I LOVE this painting. The red cloak offset by the stark black background, framed by the brown branches. Beautiful. A Christmas present from Hubby. Sigh.

On the bottom are the words “Litany, Martyrs and Canticles.” I got the words, $2 each, from the Round Lake (NY) Antiques Festival. I placed them in a frame already in my possession and used a black t-shirt (soon for the rag pile) as the background. Finally, everyone’s favorite protestant-American image of Jesus. I think I got that from Saver’s, too. It’s in nice shape with a lovely gold frame.

The goal is to fill the wall. I recently spied an image of Theresa of Lisieux and have been thinking the space needs some little flowers.

This is Creepy but Interesting

Last week I read this bit from Magnificat. It gave me the creeps and some food for thought:

We must make this abundantly clear: evil, suffering, death, and hell (that is, eternal damnation in everlasting torment) are not acts of God… One day Father Candido was expelling a demon. Toward the end of the exorcism, he turned to the evil spirit and sarcastically told him, “Get out of here. The Lord has already prepared a nice, well-heated house for you!” At this, the demon answered, “You do not know anything! It wasn’t he [God] who made hell. It was us. He had not even thought about it.” Similarly, on another occasion, while I was questioning a demon to know whether he had contributed to the creation of hell, I received this answer: “All of us cooperated.”

-Father Gabriele Amorth, chief exorcist of Rome, Italy

This is My Body

Let me tell you about my week. On Monday, I was trapped inside the house because of the Noah-like floods engulfing the region. On Tuesday, my husband started a new job in a location he has always loved. Unfortunately the job is located in a neighboring state, three hours from home. So he sleeps in a second-rate motel, while I’m three hours away with a 12 week old, hoping the realtor calls with a bid on our condo and, in this market, that’s like hoping the Boston Bruins will win the Stanley Cup…anytime in the next 30 years. On Wednesday, well, I really don’t remember Wednesday because my precious 12 week old decided to give up her long nights of sleep for much shorter nights of sleep. You would think that nine months of pregnancy, a natural birth, interrupted sleep, and other unmentionables would make the kid a bit more grateful. (If the ubiquitous ”THEY” told you everything that could possibly happen to your body during pregnancy, childbirth and postpartum, human reproduction would end. Seriously.) 

Being a new Mother at the age of 39 means I make all kinds of mistakes; not big ones like leaving the wee one in the Matrix while I’m inside Starbucks ordering a grande, soy hot chocolate, no-whip. I mean little mistakes that culminated on Thursday. For example, I’m a stay-at-home mother which is a privilege and a full-time job, all in one. (Rather like the Queen of England but without the money or the crown.) This means, my wee one sees me all the time. She WANTS to see me all the time and without the husband to take her for a while… get where this is going? 

On Thursday, I’m pooped, there’s no other word for it. (Besides “pooped” is a word I’ve been using a lot since the baby was born.) It’s 5 a.m. and I’m nursing a wide awake baby. It’s still early for the neighbors to leave for work, allowing me a chance to think in silence. I had nearly forgotten that its Holy Week, a time for Christians to reflect on the centrality of their self-designated label. Holy Thursday, the beginning of the Triduum, celebrates Christ’s institution of the Eucharist; the giving of Himself in the bread and wine, to be followed on Good Friday with his bodily sacrifice. 

Andrea Solario, Madonna with the Green Cushions (Maria Lactan), 1st quarter of 16th century, Oil on Wood, Musée du Louvre, Paris.

All these thoughts tumble through my head as I’m looking down on the new life which looks to me for all her needs. She needs a roof over her head, clothes on her back, a soft kiss on her cheek and food from my breast. Then two worlds collide: “Take and Eat. This is my body which is given up for you.” At this, all the crap from the week falls away and I truly enter into the meaning of Holy Week and the sacrificial meaning of motherhood. 

But a grande, soy hot chocolate, no-whip would be welcome right now.

Did He Say What He Just Said?

Hubby accepted a new job in the Saratoga Springs, NY area and you know what that means…looking for a house in NY (the property taxes are ridiculous, BTW) and selling our condo. The stress of the whole process is selling our place. We know we’re not going to get what Hubby put into it but we hope to make enough for a decent down payment on a house.

To that end, our realtor hooked us up with a “Staging” professional (at no cost to us), a person who goes over your home and tells you how to best showcase the property, because now it’s a “product” and not your home.

Yesterday the “professional” came over. He was nice and could have his own show on the Bravo Channel. He starts out by saying, “This is going to be painful…oh, sorry…painless.” He advises that we take down all personal photographs, even the ones of our great grandparents (really?).

Then he spies something that is “weird.” “That is weird….you don’t want to be known as the smelly cat piss house or the weird religious house.” What set him off on his rant?

This is "weird."

Are you kidding me? As he went through the house he said we had to take down the crucifix in our bedroom and then he went into Charlotte’s room. Take a look at the photo and pick which of the three items on the wall needs to be hidden:

Which is most offensive?

We have an old lithograph of Andrew Jackson on the left and Henry Clay on the right. I bought them years ago because they were neat and because of their Americana value. Are these two slaveholders offensive? Nope. It was that “weird” crucifix in the middle that needed to be taken down.

I can understand the need to declutter the place but categorizing religious items with “smelly cat piss” is offensive to me but I don’t suppose religious people count.

We won’t be taking down the weird stuff.

Wonderful

Our Lady of the Barren Tree c. 1450, Petrus Christus

Hail, O Blossom of Incorruption!
Hail, O Crown of Self-mastery!
Hail, O you who shone forth as a Sign of Resurrection!
Hail, O you who displayed the Life of Angels!
Hail, Fruitful Tree from whom believers feed!
Hail, Shady Glen where many are sheltered!
Hail, O you who have born the Guide of the Lost!
Hail, Source of Life to the captives’ Release!
Hail, O you who unsettled even the Just Judge!
Hail, Indulgence of many who have fallen!
Hail, O Stole for those who lack freedom to speak!
Hail, O Tenderness who exceed all desire!
Hail, O Bride and Maiden ever-pure!

-Seventh Chant, The Akathist Hymn to the Blessed Virgin Mary

Cranky Question

Is it appropriate to sing “America the Beautiful” while waiting in line for Communion during Mass?

I know it’s Memorial Day weekend and we need to remember those who lost their lives in service to our country. I wholeheartedly dig that. The Priest at Mass mentioned it as part of his homily and the remembrance fit nicely. So here comes the highlight of the liturgy and with accompanying vocalist, the organ pumps out,

O beautiful, for spacious skies,

For amber waves of grain,

For purple mountain majesties

Above the fruited plain!

America! America! God shed His grace on thee,

And crown thy good with brotherhood, from sea to shining sea.

What does that have to do with worshipping God? The song was so loud, I had trouble concentrating.

I’m sorry…but the song was VERY inappropriate for the occasion. There will be other times this weekend where performing the song will be right but when receiving the adorable host isn’t one of them.

Crank mode: Off.

Not Good

Don’t let these guys handle a coffin.

H/T: Augusta Bro

Cranky Thoughts on a First Communion

Recently I attended the First Communion of Hubby’s cousin (Hubby is 34. His cousin is 8.) in Methuen, MA. When seventy kids participate, imagine the numbers of parents, grandparents, siblings, aunts and uncles packed into a church. STEAMY! Being in a steamy church on a humid day made me slightly cranky. So allow me to share my cranky thoughts of the day.

1. The boys were all dressed up in jackets and ties. It was very nice to see but it will probably be the only time they will be dressed like that at a Mass that isn’t a wedding or funeral. Tomorrow at Mass it will be shorts, Red Sox t-shirts and flip-flops. (See…I told you I was cranky!)

Cranky Girl

2. Except for one or two, the girls were dressed in white vails, heels and gloves. I understand the whole “Bride of Christ” idea but even at the age of 8, the girls are realizing they (or rather their parents) will pay for dresses they’ll only wear once. Get used to it, girls!

3. I could have done without the music. It was one guy and a piano. He did have a nice voice but it drowned out the congregation. (The singer reminded me of Carman. Remember him? He was a melodramatic protestant Christian singer popular in the 90′s. According to his web site, he “changed the face of Christian music and evolved contemporary music evangelism into what it is today.” So sorry!) It seemed the church vocalist was more interested in his own voice rather than ours, so I obliged. I didn’t sing.

One of the songs I didn’t sing was “Taste and See.” When I left behind evangelical protestantism, I thought I left behind insipid songs like “Shine, Jesus, Shine.” But I suppose every religious tradition has their own banal lyrics:

Refrain
Taste and see the goodness of the Lord,
the goodness of the Lord.
Taste and see the goodness of the Lord,
the goodness of the Lord.

1. I will bless the Lord at all times.
Praise will be on my lips.
My soul will glory in the Lord.
The poor will hear and be glad.

2. I sought the Lord who answered me,
delivered me from my fear.
Look to God that you might shine
with the radiance of God’s joy.

3. The Lord has eyes for justice,
ears to hear your cry.
God knows your broken heart.
The Lord redeems a loyal servant.
Take refuge in your God.

“I” “Your” “My” “You” It isn’t about ME!!!!!!! ARGH!!!!!!!!!

4. O.K., here’s my last cranky thought: The first reading was from the Acts of the Apostles 13: 44-52. It’s about Paul and Barnabas preaching that the Word is for Jews and Gentiles. The lector, who is a catachist, BTW, pronounced Gentiles as “Gentles.” (She said it THREE TIMES) and this one made me laugh…she pronounced Barnabas as “BARBADOS.” Practice, Lady!

Crank mode: Off.

Easter Scene

Since 1990? (1991?) I’ve been having Easter dinner at a friend’s house. It all started in college when a floor mate invited me to her Mom’s for Easter. Now her sister has taken over the tradition and, like a bad penny, I keep turning up every year.

Her sister has ELEVEN kids (not a typo). Three are out of the house, so there were EIGHT kids (ages 15 to 7 months) romping around (plus two other families attended with four between the two). The sister and family are devout evangelicals and are all home schooled. The kids get along with each other and are very helpful to the parents.

But only in an evangelical home on Easter would you see two boys, ages 7 and 9 (approx) tumbling on the floor in the hallway. The older one has the younger one pinned and he says,

“And they call you the King of the Jews? CRUCIFY YOU!”

The younger one is rolling around, squealing, “No!”

They’re both laughing and having a grand old time.

Happy Easter

Christ the Lord is risen today, Alleluia!

Earth and Heaven in chorus say, Alleluia!

Raise your joys and triumps high, Alleluia!

Sing, ye heavens, and earth reply, Alleluia!