God as BFF

God is always there. If you think He isn't, guess who moved.  The onus for the relationship is on you.  If you move across the country from your family, the onus for keeping in contact  is on you--the one who moved.

Any relationship requires communication.  You have to talk to God.  That's called prayer.  And you know what?  God wants to get intimate.  Make Him your BFF.

Mirrors of Mercy

Mirrors of Mercy is the title of a brand new book.  So new, I can't find it on the web.  I have an advance copy.  My Litany for my "cloistered brothers," is in it. It is a collection of reflections from my "cloistered brothers," volunteers, and friends.  Since this is a year of mercy, proclaimed by Pope Francis, and coincidentally, the 800th anniversary of the Order of Preachers (my "cloistered brothers" belong) and also, the 150th anniversary of the founding of the Dominican Sisters of Bethany (whose spirituality we follow), my "cloistered brothers" thought they'd commemorate the occasions with their own book or reflections.

Mirrors of Mercy is published by a new company, Quail Publishing, Inc., which I also can't find on the web.  The company publishes books authored by women and men who are currently and formerly incarcerated.  The inside cover reads:

Today, nearly 2.4 million women and men are locked up in America's prisons and jails.  Many have a voice they desperately want to share.  Most, unfortunately, have no way to cross the vast physical, ideological and technical gap that separates them from general society.  QVP bridges this breach, allowing the inspired creativity of prisoners to flow past confining steel bars, razor wires, and concrete walls into the free world.

To find out how you can help

Quail Valley Publishing accomplish this work,

contact us at:

Qual Valley Publishing

PO Box 356

Hats Summit, MO 65043

www.quailvalleypublishing.com

The book itself is composed of reflections, poems, stories and artwork by MEK (whom I often post).  This poem is fun.

Mercy's Madness

My brokenness sings, because...
mercy fixes my stupid things...
The pain I bring,
when my humor zing's, when my heart breaks, anger
fares and swings, Mercy calms life's unkind dings...

My brokenness sings, because...Mercy fixes my stupid
things...when the darkness cover's,
the depth of my despair,
God's mercy makes its repair, placing a heart that care's
strength to bear, what sin tears...

My brokenness sings, because...  Mercy fixes my stupid things...
thank you GOD, for,
Mercy's madness, for you to constantly grant me the
grace, the forgiveness that mercy brings, over and over
again is truly a...love that can be called,

Mercy's Madness___
Michael 

Back in the Day

Until the Lights Go On

Ka-thy, John-nee, Joey….that’s how we called our friends out to play.  We went over to their house, stood outside and sang out.  The first syllable was loud and maybe a little high.  But then the last syllable dropped, slightly, ever so slightly lower. Somehow even a one syllable name approximated the call, An-nn.   Once we were all gathered, we took off to play.  We didn’t require adult supervision.  Who’d want an adult to hang out with us?  That was suspicious.  Why would a grown person hang out with kids?  What’s wrong with him?    So we usually skipped off to the playground.  If there were enough of us, we’d play softball.  Otherwise we’d swing on the swings.  To tell you the truth, I’d get car sick on the swings, but I never let on.  Because of that, I was always the first to think of another activity. My favorite was bike riding.  We rode bikes all over town.  We’d follow the fire trucks to fires if we heard the horn blow.  Back in the day, fire stations communicated by a “fire horn.”  Everyone in town could hear it.  The horn would alert the volunteer firemen where the fire was.  I guess every fire hydrant had a number and the horn would honk that number of times.  Of course my favorite honk was the honk for “no school.”  When it was 7:00 AM on a snowy day, I’d stick my ear on the cold window pane closest to the fire station and listen to the two horn blasts to signal that they’d be no school, that day.  That’s how we knew there’d be no school, in the era before computers, TV and radio stations gave the no school reports.  A day of “no school” meant sledding all day.  Luckily for me, there was a hill near my house and that’s where we went.  But, other kids actually had streets to use for sledding.  The town put orange cones on some of the streets to close them-- just for us kids to use.  Imagine that!  I guess there were fewer cars then.  We’d build snowmen, forts, and throw snowballs at each other.  Some braver kids, let me correct that, some foolish kids did something we called a “Nantucket sleigh ride.”  As a car drove slowly by us, they would grab the back fender and slide for a while, as they were dragged dangerously along.  Then they’d let go and slide off hoping not to crash into anything.  I think the name is from Nantucket whalers harpooning a whale and being dragged along behind the whale. It was like that back then, when kids played unsupervised all day, until the street lights went on.  Once the street lights were on, we knew it was supper time and the time to go home.  

Laudete Sunday

Alice Camille and Father Jack Sullivan

The Catholic Women's Club had its annual Communion Breakfast, this morning.  Our speaker was Alice Camille, who writes Exploring The Sunday Readings.  We had a bigger than usual crowd, who I'm sure were not disappointed in Alice's talk.  The priest was even taking notes!  Usually, they don't even stay, they eat and skip out as soon as possible.  So the fact that a priest stayed for the entire meal, not only the speech, and took notes, was a memorable event for the club.  May God bless Father Jack.

When I first asked Alice Camille to come speak to the club, she asked, "When?"  I responded, "Laudete Sunday."  Alice blinked a hundred times, and kind teacher, who she is explained, "Gaudete Sunday is in Advent.  Laetare Sunday is in Lent.  There's no such Sunday, as Laudete."

So this morning Alice spoke about opening the door to God's mercy.  He's always there, isn't He?  We just have to ask for it.  She was perfect--the right length.  She didn't speak over our heads.  She was interesting.  Everyone enjoyed it.  May God bless Alice Camille.

Get On The Bus

To me Get on The Bus isn't the movie.  It's a prison program.  A few years ago, I met the person who started the program, Sister Suzanne Jabro, CSJ., at a prison ministry program at Boston College.  Sister works in California. Their prisons are isolated with no public transportation.  So families often don't get to visit their incarcerated loved ones.

One Mother's Day, Sister Suzanne decided to do something about the situation.  She got a bus to bring the inmate's children to visit their mothers.  It was such a wonderful experience, that the idea caught on.

Today, the "Get on the Bus" program gives free transportation for children and their caregivers to visit their parents' prison.  The children get travel bags and the caregivers get comfort bags.  Photos are taken of the day.  Meals with parents and children are provided.  The visit is for four hours.  Each child receives a teddy bear, with a personal letter from their parent.

Post-event counseling is given.

Last week, at the Los Angeles Religious Education Congress, I was blessed to take this picture of the Get On The Bus People.  May God bless them and those they serve.

St. Casimir

Here's a Godincidence.  While on vacation, last week, I went to the Religious Education Congress in Los Angeles.  Lithuania was featured in a booth there.  Being half Lithuanian and having no living Lithuanian relatives, I've lost contact with that part of my heritage.  When I saw that booth, I gravitated towards it.  I took pictures and picked up the literature.  This morning I was sorting through all the pamphlets, flyers, postcards, etc. and for some reason, I stopped sorting and actually read about St. Casimir.

Later, I pick up my Divine Office and who is the saint of the day?  Saint Casimir.

The remains of St. Casimir lie in this silver casket
elevated above the altar in the chapel of
 St. Casimir, at the Cathedral of Vilnius.

Who is he?  He is the patron saint of a few countries, but definitely honored in Lithuania.  He was born to be king.  He was born to Casimir IV, King of Poland and Grand Duke of Lithuania and Elizabeth of Austria of the Hapsburg royal family.  He was the third child in a family of eleven children.  He was educated at court, since he was to be king.

He lived a saintly life of concern for the poor and pious devotion. His goodness was noted by all.  Unfortunately, he died at the age of 26 from tuberculosis.  He was buried in the Cathedral of Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania.

Prayer to St. Casimir

Saint Casimir, Patron of Mary's land,
who did honor the Blessed Virgin with hymns;
who while kneeling at night
at the door of the church,
did pray for her aid;
you loved purity so dearly
that for it you even forsook
all earthly comforts and honor.
Our holy Patron, obtain for our land
the flowers of purity
that by their sweet smell
they may draw us to your ways.
Saint Casimir, unwilling to leave your land,
yet, when it was in danger,
you aided our armies.
With aching hearts, we beg you --
help our fatherland to rise to noble life.
Help us to return without delay to our land
consecrated by the blood of martyrs,
by innocent tears and boundless anguish.
Amen.

O.K. I'm Back

O. K. I'm back from California.  Traveling from coast to coast, I had time to read The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out the Window and Disappeared by Sweedish author, Jonas Jonasson.

Isn't the title intriguing?  It makes you want to read what it's about.  It's about the life of an extraordinary man who really sees things in simple terms and this carries him through a life of historical events and people.  It's ridiculous, yet interesting.  Every time you want to put the story down, you read on to see what happens - how everything is going to turn out.  Even though it's silly, the old man, Allan, declares some really ponderous thoughts.  My favorite is about war:

“Allan thought it sounded unnecessary for the people in the seventeenth century to kill each other. If they had only been a little patient they would all have died in the end anyway. Julius said that you could say the same of all epochs” 

Yes, you could say that today.  War is silly because it's kill more of them before they kill you and yours.  And if you just had patience, everyone would die anyway, eventually.

How about this quote: Things are what they are, and whatever will be, will be.

Simple and silly.  That's how the whole book is.  Simple and silly.  Yet, you won't put it down.  It's that simple.  Silly isn't it?