'Tude! Dude.

Two men looked out through prison bars;

The one saw mud, the other stars.

                                                 Anon.

Dream Interpretation

My Christian Prayer group meets on zoom, nowadays.  My friend, Albert is on it, too.  Albert is 90 years old and deaf as a haddock.  I try to help him as much as I can. He has trouble hearing and following the conversation and instructions.  If he does hear it, he doesn’t understand it.  It takes time for his mind to process the information—at least that’s how I see it.  I am very sympathetic towards him because I have a feeling that I will be in his condition, someday, and I hope people will be kind to me.

Last week, the night after our zoom meeting, I had a dream about Albert—a nightmare, actually. Albert accidentally locked me in a closet.  He was oblivious that he shut the door on me and the door was locked.  He didn’t hear me call.  He didn’t hear me bang.  No one did.

That’s it. That’s the dream that woke me up.  It really bothered me. 

I didn’t have to have psychoanalysis to figure out that I felt trapped by Albert.  I admit that when he’s not at a meeting I feel happy.  Do I feel stuck? I shouldn’t because when I don’t have time or the patience on certain days, I tell that to Albert and he accepts it. 

But still.

It continued to bother me for a few days.  So much so that I just had to get out of that closet.  Now this closet was not a walk-in-closet like you have in your bedroom.  It was a closet that classrooms have.  It was full of shelves.  I barely had room to turn around.  I started looking for something to smash through the door.  There were mostly reams of paper and some boxes.  I saw a couple of glass vases that were pretty heavy and solid.  But then I saw a statue of liberty.  It was about a foot high and made of metal.  That was my best choice.  How ironic would that be if I gained my freedom from a statue of liberty!

So I banged on the door.  No one came, but I noticed that the center of the door seemed weak.  So I banged and banged, concentrating on the center.  I banged until I smashed through.  It was a small hole but big enough to slip my hand through.

And my arm followed my hand through the hole and down to the door knob.  I was looking for that little knob mechanism that turned the lock.   It wasn’t there; instead this side of the knob had the key hold, which meant that the locking mechanism was on the inside of the door—my side.  All this time, all I had to do was unlock the door from the inside, myself.

I’m an idiot.  I have the solution to my problems, within my self.  All I have to do is open the door.  

My astronomy club meets on zoom, nowadays.  My friend, Albert is on it, too.  Albert is 90 years old and deaf as a haddock.  I try to help him as much as I can. He has trouble hearing and following the conversation and instructions.  If he does hear it, he doesn’t understand it.  It takes time for his mind to process the information—at least that’s how I see it.  I am very sympathetic towards him because I have a feeling that I will be in his condition, some day, and I hope people will be kind to me.

Last week, the night after our zoom meeting, I had a dream about Albert—a nightmare, actually. Albert accidentally locked me in a closet.  He was oblivious that he shut the door on me and the door was locked.  He didn’t hear me call.  He didn’t hear me bang.  No one did.

That’s it. That’s the dream that woke me up.  It really bothered me. 

I didn’t have to have psychoanalysis to figure out that I felt trapped by Albert.  I admit that when he’s not at a meeting I feel happy.  Do I feel stuck? I shouldn’t because when I don’t have time or the patience on certain days, I tell that to Albert and he accepts it. 

But still.

It continued to bother me for a few days.  So much so that I just had to get out of that closet.  Now this closet was not a walk-in-closet like you have in your bedroom.  It was a closet that classrooms have.  It was full of shelves.  I barely had room to turn around.  I started looking for something to smash through the door.  There were mostly reams of paper and some boxes.  I saw a couple of glass vases that were pretty heavy and solid.  But then I saw a statue of liberty.  It was about a foot high and made of metal.  That was my best choice.  How ironic would that be if I gained my freedom from a statue of liberty!

So I banged on the door.  No one came, but I noticed that the center of the door seemed weak.  So I banged and banged, concentrating on the center.  I banged until I smashed through.  It was a small hole but big enough to slip my hand through.

And my arm followed my hand through the hole and down to the door knob.  I was looking for that little knob mechanism that turned the lock.   It wasn’t there; instead this side of the knob had the key hold, which meant that the locking mechanism was on the inside of the door—my side.  All this time, all I had to do was unlock the door from the inside, myself.

I’m an idiot.  I have the solution to my problems, within my self.  All I have to do is open the door. 

Lesson One

 How did my lesson plan go?  Well....I'm not sure.  I don't know whether to be disappointed or not.  I'm teaching my grandchildren their faith.  One is 10 the other 6.  

I started by explaining God.  He created everything.  He is great.  I was only talking for a couple of minutes and I could see that the youngest was bored.  So I started talking about their parish church.  I gave them each a picture of their church.  On the facade are six statues.  I told them what each one was and showed them other pictures of that statue that were clearer.  When I showed them St. Paul, I said that he is holding a sword because he was killed with a sword.  The older one said, "Grandma!!! She's only six."

If they are upset because Paul was beheaded, what can I say about Jesus' crucifixion!!!

So I changed the subject to explaining the Mass.  I told them the Mass is the reenactment of Jesus' Last Supper.  Then I showed them Da Vinci's Last Supper.

Next was prayer. We tried to teach the 6-year-old how to bless herself.  It wasn't easy.  She kept skipping "The Son."  I told the big sister to help her every night.  

We finished by singing "Down in the River."

It took 20 minutes.  I worked days--Days, on this lesson plan and we completed it in 20 minutes.  But I won't be able to judge how it went until next week when we meet again.  I'll see how much they retained.  

As I was leaving I heard big sister say, "See, there was nothing to be afraid of."  This sentence made me reflect on the six year old.  What did she learn?  I'm not sure. I think she was confused; she didn't know what to think.  And now I know that she was nervous and afraid.  Poor kid.  No wonder she had such a terrible time learning to bless herself. May the good Lord help her and me.

Disposing of religious articles

Disposing of religious articles: Q. What is the proper way to dispose of the medals, rosaries, small crucifixes, etc., that many Catholic organizations mail out unsolicited? (I have enough of everything!) (Atlanta) Click on the blue link to read the article.



I would give your religious items to your pastor to dispose of reverently.  As to unsolicited items sent via mail, give them to a prison chaplain, a missionary order or someone who would love to distribute them.  Otherwise, do what the article advises.

Inevitable Grace

 Before I got into "Inevitable Grace," by Piero Ferrucci, I thought this book was about religion. Not really. It is about finding your true self, which very well is the fact that you are a wonderfully made child of God, but one doesn't have to be a believer to read this book. Ferrucci examines seven ways: beauty, action, illumination, dance and ritual, science, devotion, and will, to discover more about yourself.

The author looks at people we know, and looks into what made people what they were. Pablo Casals, the cellist is a good example. In a crisis, Casals went into a depression where all he saw was ugliness, selfishness, oppression, and violence. He hated life. Eventually, he saw that what he saw and felt was only a part of humanity. Music was a good part but not all. When he looked out at the audience he saw that all those people loved music, like himself. And they have to go out and live in our broken world. We are all brothers and sisters and we share misery and happiness. And his music, he hoped was helping.

Ferrucci gives many more examples. They are all noble stories and inspiring.

Pope calls for day of prayer, fasting for Lebanon

Pope calls for day of prayer, fasting for Lebanon: VATICAN CITY (CNS) -- Pope Francis has asked Catholics and all people of goodwill to observe Sept. 4 as a day of prayer and fasting for Lebanon.

My Dream

 Today, I saw my brother standing                              

Next to our lovely mother.
Her dress was white and shining
brightly in the sun.

She called my brother with a glance,
and together they walked
hand and hand into the mist.
Now never have the chance
to say good-bye or to have a cry.

No, no, no.
They soared high up in the sky
I-I-I just have to watch
as the eagle flies,

No wings have I, only feet
to walk and run.
Don't look behind
just stare ahead and
bide my time.

by Boo-Boo