Dear Rev. Know-it-all, A non-Catholic friend of mine told me that Peter doesn’t mean rock. It means more like a chip off the old block and that Jesus didn’...
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Number One Son made his First Confession last week. He felt si good afterwards that he said he wanted to go again this week. Hubby was at work, so 30 minutes before scheduled confessions, I had him come inside to clean up. He joyfully came inside and cleaned up, well everything except his hands. After sending him back to the bathroom three times, I helped him clean the dirt from the top of his hands, fingernails and wrists. He made sure to point out what was clean. We waited for an hour and a half and he sat with our Priest and finished up what he started last week. Reflecting on the day, maybe my lesson was about cleaning up our souls. Number One Son did the best he could do on his own, but then he needed me. Our cumulative confessions are like the repeated trips of Number One Son to wash his hands. Our Father in Heaven cleans our souls through the gift of reconciliation and by the grace of God, he accepts us, poor sinners, to be with him forever.
Monday, January 18, 2010
Yesterday before Church, Hubby and I gave verbal expectations about behavior. Number Two Son was feeling chatty, so I stepped outside with him (it was my turn). Number One Daughter was especially wiggly and after Mass, Hubby gave her a C-. She was livid, she wanted a B (her name starts with a B, she could care less about an A)! She cried all the way home. I told her I'd take her to the Adoration Chapel so she could apologize to Jesus. Well, she cried for another 45 minutes and then she was ready to go to Church. She told me she wanted to stay "10 minutes," her favorite number right now. She did a great job, the benches are a bit squeaky, and every time she heard a sound, she whispered how noisy the chairs were. She spent some time on her knees, laying down, posing like the Angel statues on either side of the monstrance holding the Blessed Sacrament. It was very sincere and quite adorable. After about 20 minutes, she got more chatty and more wiggly, so I told her time was up. She spontaneously blew kisses to Jesus, very sweet. Even though she deserved an A, I gave her a B and she was happy.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Yesterday it was 20 degrees at 11:00 AM. I took the dogs out to the backyard and while I was uncovering the chickens, Smart Puppy darted out the fence. He was fairly predicatable In his run away routine...church parking lot, apartment complex, neighbor's yard, but then after many, many "Smart Puppy!" and "Come here Pup-Pup!" He ran toward a four lane street that intersects our street. Smart Puppy ran on the sidewalk for about five feet before heading out to the busy street. Four lanes of traffic stopped, friendly folks opened their windows and car doors to try and help a frantic dog-mommy chasing a frisky poodle in powder blue flannel pajamas with chocolate cupcakes printed on them. After almost being nabbed by a heroic cowboy in a big silver pick-up, Smart Puppy headed back down our street. I ran home and told Number One Son to put on his shoes and coat, while o was yelling him, Smart Puppy ran in the door. That is not the end of the story. I've had a nasty upper respiratory virus for almost a week. Running around in freezing weather for who knows how long, resulted in an asthma attack. I don't have asthma, but Number One Son does. In between short honking breaths, I told Number One Son to get his rescue inhaler. Bless his heart, he brought me the right one (he uses two) quicker than I've ever seen him follow a direction. I would have called 9-1-1 if we didn't have a rescue inhaler, I could not breathe. When we picked Hubby up from work, Number One Son told him, "Momma's face was purple!" Today, asthma is a blessing.