Christmas: Well Worth the Puke

Until you spend your first Christmas morning in your own home, with your own tree and your own first-born-3-year-old child, you have not lived.

His brother was as oblivious as he was in the past, favoring empty boxes for their contents. But Haven. He GOT it. The stockings. The trains he won't unclutch. He got it. And he made us "get it" again too.

We then spent time with family and returned home puking as humans often do when 30 or so of them visit at a time. But I can truly say it was worth it -- well worth it. And coming from someone who got close to no sleep and has had to be helped out by someone of the male gender (he means well, don't get me wrong but nurturing is woman's work) all day, "well worth it" is high high praise.

How Lovely Are Thy Branches

Haven and Daddy geared up to chop down our very first Christmas tree. Daddy grabbed his saw and Haven his axe (it was actually a wooden toy pop gun but, shh ...).

I requested something small that I could keep on the table & away from little hands so I was pleasantly shocked at the 8 foot fir they drug in.

Haven decorated one candy cane at a time, running in and out of the kitchen in circles between each addition.

Colored lights, a cardboard star and 8 boxes of tinsel (which is not showing up in the photo but has shown up in pancake syrup, in my dishwasher, between sheets, in diapers and will be found I'm sure in such places come July) has made for a magnificent first Christmas tree.

It's shadow has seen countless toddler tribal-like celebratory dances and has been the inspiration for much happy squealing and light hand smacking.

Technically or traditionally, Catholics aren't supposed to get or decorate trees until Christmas day (I think) as Advent is a season of penance (lesser than lent but penitential nonetheless as we are dwelling on our longing for the Child. Think "O Come, O Come Emmanuel."

Pete has always talked big about how we would keep a tree bare until Christmas Eve, etc., etc. But you see, he drug that big tree in our home and the kid in him who stared in wonder at, well, definitely tinsel, went nuts. The rest I already mentioned.

And if you're one of my siblings you HAVE to watch this video of my sister's mother-in-law picking up her tree in Long Island (feel free to watch it even if you're not one of my siblings). It does contain a few naughty words so be warned.

Mo' Money Mo' Problems

It strikes me odd that the fruit of the Nativity's Mystery is poverty. For those of you who aren't familiar with praying the rosary, one meditates on a mystery in the life of Christ with the Blessed Mother during recitation.



Poverty, in a season that has become so consumed by mass materialism, poverty. God became a man to display his love for man. And for decades people have gotten so excited over the occasion that they buy so much stuff that they forget the occasion. The occasion called Christmas or "Christ's Mass" should be a "holiday" or a "holy day" indeed.



So Pete and I have always scoffed at the Wal Mart ads and the fake Christmas trees set out in September. We'd say we'd instill in our family a sense of the sacred and the mystery of Christ's birth during the season. Of course we'd give presents and have a tree. It's not like we'd keep the in laws from muttering "Santa" but we also wouldn't push the concept either. For us, it would be different ... it would be holy.



Well here's our chance. Pete got laid off quite unexpectedly this week. His company had financial problems and he took the hit. He's going to land on his feet running but our faith is being tested and I'm sure our bank account will be as well.



So pray for us. We've already been met with such peace but like anyone who uses dollars to buy things like food and shelter, it's scary to suddenly not have any coming in. I'm sure Sts. Mary and Joseph can relate. The doves they sacrificed had to be enough to thank God for their baby king. They say a wealthier family would have used a lamb or a goat. I'm sure they would have wanted one unspotted.

Strange Addictions

For some, it's flossing teeth. For others, it's arranging and rearranging and arranging and rearranging one's furniture.

I once knew a girl who had a thing for cough drops. That was strange. As soon as we'd get into the carpool she'd demand one fiercly: "The kind with menthol that burns," she'd say.

Personally, my addictions are pretty run of the mill: coffee; in the past, cigarettes; when I'm old, liquor -- what fun that will be! -- cigarettes again too if I make it to 75. Hey, goals are important ...

So I can't really relate to my dear friend who can't seem to stop moving her furniture around. Today, she blamed it on the Christmas tree but we all know that was just an excuse. She also cried twice and threatened to throw it all on the curb in favor of bean bags ...

Personally, I think this friend should give her sofa a break and take up a more fulfilling addiction. Like nicotine or even soap operas. Perhaps this one's just not doing the trick. That or feng shui ... or Kung Fu ... but she's white and female ... so that won't work either.

Heavenwards

I love this CD. Kathy Kanewske took the prayers written by Fr. Joseph Kentenich in Dachau and put them to music.

Seeing that I like things quiet, this is high praise. The ethereal music just lifts up my heart & boggles my mind that the lyrics were conceived in the midst of such terrible suffering.

My husband has caught hold of Father Kentenich, founder of the Schoenstatt movement, and has a blog devoted to his writings. Some are a little brainy for me but when they're set to music as least I can hum along.

Handsome Guy

This new to us sweater vest was the inspiration for a fashion shoot. Just look at those dimples!

The Housebroken Husband

I have high expectations of my mate.

I expect that he never even look at another woman lustfully (but God himself decreed this so it must be possible -- St. Matthew 5:27; at least with His help).

I expect him to provide a living within his abilities: food, clothes, shelter, warmth and transportation.

I expect him to play with our babies happily & to help out with their needs (ie: bathing, diaper changes, nighttime rocking).

I expect him to be kind and loving to me & to make me feel safe just by being around.

And he does. He does all these things so seamlessly that sometimes I forget they take effort. Every once in a while I imagine my life without these pillars he provides and I shudder at the desolation.

So this is why I've chosen to ignore the fact that he's about as housebroken as a puppy dog. His continuous ability to live in his own filth amazes me. Sometime after we had kids I accepted this fact. I don't like it. I never will. But I choose to accept it.

But what does this acceptance look like? It means picking up his socks & washing them & putting them away (happily). It means cooking, cleaning & loading & unloading the dishwasher every single day. I don't get thanked often enough (who does?) but then again I don't do cartwheels every time his paycheck arrives either.

Does he take me for granted? Definitely. But don't I do the same in turn. Should we remind one another at times of our labors? Sure. When done in true charity, it never hurts.

But at the end of the day, I'm a lot happier expecting the only domestic help from my spouse in the form of a flushed toilet (the seat down is always nice as well). He complies every time and I am so proud.

She's Back

And it's about time cause this mom I know has good head on her shoulders.

Tractor Treads

Cousins schooled Haven in downhill tractor racing on Saturday.





Millie went first. She was so fast I missed her. Next was the blur of Annika.




Haven thought about it.




He talked about it. But stood his ground (or sat) for a good long time as girl cousins sped by. He whispered "I'm going fast" but went nowhere.



He did smile for the camera.




And then, cautiously, he took off.




Catching up made him so happy.



There was joking and plastic horn honking.



Then they took off and there were two for the road.

Trick or Treat Morality

Christians, including me, make the easy mistake of majoring on minors and minoring on majors. Halloween and other holidays with ancient pagan histories seem to be a favorite.


Here are attitudes I've encountered on moral issues over the past decade at a variety of Christian groups (Evangelical, Catholic, Presbyterian, You Name It, etc.) :

Abortion? [ie: the intentional murder of a pre-born child]:
shhhhh.


Contraception? [ie: the artificial interference with the creation of human life]:

Moot point. Personal choice. No problem. (FYI: prior to the 1930's, this was not just a Catholic issue but all Christian groups were opposed to the practice. Fear not, I'm not advocating unbridled fertility at any cost. But that's another point and blog post. If I ever dare. Don't worry, I probably won't.)


Sterilization? [or as my articulate husband would call it "castration"]:
Moot point. Personal choice. No problem.

Disrespect & Dismissal of Motherhood? [ie: Abandonment of children to minimum wage daycare workers so mothers can pursue extra cash and career status]:

female equality, liberation, personal fulfillment


Absolute Abandonment of Morality in the Name of Entertainment? [You don't have to be a TV nazi to recognize Nero thought live humans eaten by bears was a good time too. Desperate Housewives?? Sex in the City?? I'm more liberated bare foot and pregnant than those skanks are any day.]

Uh huhh; Lets watch it together after home group.


Complete Reliance on the liberal state to educate one's child? [ no, homeschooling's not for everyone but can't the "birds and the bees" and birth control pills be lessons saved for mom & pop?]

Uh huh. Can't they take them sooner? I mean a full day at 5 years old isn't soon enough; I need them out of my hair at least by 2.5; save us, Hillary!! Save us Head Start!!


Halloween? [kids dressing up and asking neighbors for candy while mom pushes junior in the stroller]

HOLY HELL FIRE!! Would somebody please call the Donut Man, bring in some hay and have an alterna-harvest party before we're drowning in sin and mini snickers bars. Quick. Quick. Call the homeschooling moms so they can raise a stink cause don't you know all the neighbors are holding seances and shoving razors in apples then drowning all the bobbers!!!!!


My Point: If you have a moral stance against trick or treating but skirt the bigger issues, you're a putz. Get with the program; let the kids wear face paint and gather free candy (cause if you don't they'll have a really great reason to hate religion); save moral opposition for worthy issues such as ... hmm ... killing babies would be a good start.

And if you've made it to the bottom of this post too long for a blog, here's your bonus apple bobbing shots (there were too many good ones to choose from):



See how lame the harvest party was in 1982 ... No wonder I stink at bobbing; Joey's mom never gave us kids a turn ...




Sad, small children dreaming of candy but soaking with apples.





That's what my father-in-law is doing with all his retirement time. No wonder the basement's not cleaned out ...




And yes, this is me and my overly excited homeschooled child in 7 years. He talks really fast about things other people aren't interested in like fuel and driveway gradients. But he trick or treats. Darn it. He trick or treats.

Retrieved Babies

I put up the above post last night and somehow deleted 2 posts on babies, a post on Aldi and another on Ron Paul. I can deal with the loss of the latter but not the bumpkins. So here they are (all 3 of em):

Vegetarians Are Annoying

Vegetarians are annoying. They really should go back to where they came from.

Doesn't everyone agree? I mean I associate the kooks (especially the ones who still eat fish! fish is meat!) with civil war reinactors and white woman who do karate in the "you're kidding" category.

So why the rant? I hope it doesn't feel like a rant as I mean them no harm and I'm really not even mad. I mean I would never purposely run over a herbivore with my car or shopping cart but at the same time I'm not having one over for dinner any time soon. But still, why the rant? ...

One too many a person as of late has asked me if I shop at the local organic farm; they ask me in a way like they know I'm going to say "yes" and then they'll say "me too" and then we'll have this really lame thing in common. How cool. One lady even said I look like I hang out there. And recently my hair dresser flat out asked me if I eat meat (she said, "cause you look like you don't"). Pray tell, what do meat eaters look like?

Yes, I eat meat and no I don't hang out at organic farms. I like things packaged, preserved and loaded with lots of salt and dead animals. I also like smoking and drinking and I don't even recycle (bonus info).

I'm really not mad about the fact that I strike people as a granola stomping type, I guess. I mean I actually take it as a compliment when I really think about it. When I get the comments I always think I must emit a bottled water type of savior fare -- that or I look oddly thin and wacky in my dark-rimmed glasses (probably the latter).

Whatever the case, let it be known that I'm definitely not a vegetarian. I know I pretended to be in college for like 6 months but I secretly ate chicken the whole time (see, vegetarians are annoying).

You Are Her Mother

A friend of mine had fresh tears in her eyes at the park this evening. A story from the news about an abused child had gotten under her skin. She said she couldn't sleep last night. Couldn't stop praying. Couldn't stop checking in for updates on the web.

I could relate. I'm sure many parents can. Every once in a while you see something in the media. Something horrific. And it just eats at you on a personal level.

As I drove home, I pondered this mother's words and her genuine heartache over the child she's never met.

She questioned, "Where's the girl's mother? How could she have allowed this to happen?"

Pondering how Our Lord constantly uses lowly humans in our works, prayers and sufferings to heal the world, I was hit with the thought that this friend's sleepless night and prayerful day were not in vain. It's a mystery too great for me but I know this much is true: Prayer and suffering are the conditions God places on many of his actions.

If the abused child's mother is not sleepless and heartbroken over her, this mother she's never met is. And in the rosary she said for the girl, in the 10,000 angels she set to flight by her petitions, perhaps my friend will be her salvation. It's a "communion of saints" thing too great for me to understand. My friend is the girl's mother.

I'm A Sicko: Stephanie Melber Coffered Pineapple Stuffing And I've Been Passing it Off As My Own

I am a vile, disgusting person. A lunatic some might say. I deserve to be reviled and stomped on. All 5 of you should stop reading my blog and send me hate mail.

Here's what I did. I have a friend. A true pal. We potty train together, jump in puddles and let our kids sprinkle baby powder snow on really boring days. This dear friend (you guessed right, she's Stephanie Melber, reknowned Jim Thorpe mother of 4) graced me with my first dish of pineapple stuffing not too far back.

Since then, I solicited the recipe and whipped up the dish for many a cavorting crowd ... all to gasps and rave reviews. "Oh the smell ... is that apple? no, it's more exotic? is this bread pudding? no, it is far far too good ... what is this? we need more! MORE, MORE PINEAPPLE STUFFING! WE'RE GOING CRAZY! WE COULD EAT IT FOR DAYS! STOP YOUR BLABBING, GET BACK IN THAT KITCHEN AND MAKE US MORE! WE'RE MAD! WE'RE SICK AND WE'RE NOT GOING HOME UNTIL ..." (well, you get the picture ... and those were just my inlaws ... my direct relations were not as kind).

All the while, I smiled and offered seconds. Never once did I even off handedly give credit where credit was due.

So here's my point and my problem, somehow Stephanie has discovered my fraudulence and now I think she's out to get me (she's been known to do things like toilet paper folks cars and such).

I don't expect Mrs. Melber to forgive me anytime soon. Perhaps to taunt me, she dropped off another hot dish this evening (see picture above). I pretended I wasn't home. She peaked in the window, threw her hands in the air and let out a huff. Her fingers were still bleeding from hand shredding the pineapple rind.

I ate the whole thing. It was delicious. But that's not the sick part ... since only 5 of you read my blog I may just continue passing the stuffing off as my own. Sick, I tell you, I'm sick.

Remember Granny?

Remember Granny? Well, I bumped into her again. She clearly didn't remember me or my babies that she adored once again with abandonment.

And just cause people are interesting, I'll tell you about it.

Her eyes were watery as she told me she buried a baby when he was 4 months old. "That was a long time ago," she said, "but it's like he was just in my arms when I look at his grave."

Only 2 survived. A boy and a girl. The rest died in the womb. And the other, well she already mentioned, she had to bury him. But she's so glad for the two she has. They gave her 7 grandchildren. And now the grandchildren are having children.

I told her again that I'm expecting my third and she clapped for joy and gave me a hug. She said, "That's all we should live for ... having babies ... being happy ... now I'm alone and I wish I could go back. I wish I could hear the noise. Now it's so quiet."

No talk about "being done" in this meeting. Funny. A different night. A different mood. The opposite message. In her humanity, she's a gem. If you just turn her (or anyone of us) in the light, the color is completely different but true and coexisting.

Old Friends

Here's my dear old friend Talitha and her daughter Eliana competing for largest belly circumference. They said I could share this photo with my blog world and I couldn't resist.

Just cause people are interesting, here's a ditty on Talitha:

I met Talitha at Liberty University. We became fast friends. Some even thought we were sisters. Talitha grew up mostly in third world countries. She's most comfortable eating rice with her hands.

Talitha paints brown children and sunsets and asks for things like mangos and papayas even when she's in the southern part of the United States and not merely the southern hemisphere.

Talitha and I have been friends (even if seperated by a few continents for 10 years now). One time I really ignored her to hang out with my boyfriend at the time (now my husband Pete). She was so patient. I was so rude.

Talitha is the oldest of 4 sisters. She also has an older brother and a young brother. Talitha watched all her younger sisters marry before her, patiently the bridesmaid. She spent most of her 20's in places like Haiti as a missionary even though it was always her dream to marry and have babies (and be a missionary).

Then one day, Talitha's Prince Pete dropped from the sky and snatched her up from her 3rd world mud hut. I scattered flowers at their wedding.

Today Pete and Talitha are happy and healthy. They eat things like tree bark and fennel seeds and tell people about Jesus. They are the salt of the earth.

Let's pray baby #2 has as big a belly as baby #1 and let us all ponder the question: How do bellies get that very big on such a twig and oat diet?

Be well, Talitha. Time will bring us back together soon.

She Sees God Now

Mother Teresa surely stands face to face with her maker in a place outside of time singing the unending hymn of praise:

"Holy holy holy, Lord God of power and might. Heaven and Earth are full of your glory. Hosanna, Hosanna on high. Blessed is He who comes in the name of the Lord. Hosanna in the highest. Hosanna in the highest. Hosanna, Hosanna on high."

Or something like that. Or probably something better.

But when she was here, when she lived in flesh and time, this little lady didn't see God face to face. None of us do. She saw babies eaten to death by maggots. She clasped the hands of lepers and joined them in prayer. To the most despised and rejected, she became Mother.

A single gal, she was often lonely and once wrote that "the greatest disease of our day is not AIDS or cancer but cold, human indifference."

Recently, Teresa's private letters to her confessor were made public. These letters describe a long, dark night of the soul where Teresa describes finding no comfort in her faith:

"Jesus has a very special love for you. As for me, the silence and the emptiness is so great that I look and do not see, listen and do not hear." (Mother Teresa to the Rev. Michael Van Der Peet, September 1979)

Some folk, Catholics included, think this to be a scandal. They say that our Church's most prized, modern day hero was in fact an Agnostic. I couldn't disagree more.

Teresa just took time to observe the world and ponder its meaning. She didn't numb it's torment. She realized that it is first and foremost by grace that a lowly human is brought into covenant with the Almighty God. So she didn't treat her faith, even in private, like some superstitious charm that if wavered would be her demise.

Teresa's relationship with God was so strong, she could admit when even her faith in Him was lacking.

Of Course You Want to See My Vacation Pictures!

We spent last week at the Jersey Shore. We rented a little place for super cheap and it was a vacation that actually felt like a vacation. My parents were in town too so they babysat, played with the kids and took great care of us. The average temperature was 85 degrees and there was not a cloud in sight except those fluffy white ones that just make the sky blue-er.

In life, we have good and bad times. This was such a good good time. Thanks be to God.

Another Anti-Life Comment from a Catholic

I was leaving Mass when a charming, 80- something-old granny struck up a chat with my babies.

After admiring them she turned to me and said, "I'm one of 10 children. 5 boys and 5 girls. I'm number 6. God just carried my mother in the palm of her hand. God rest her soul."

Thinking this was a gal who understood the blessing of life, I told her I'm expecting number 3.

She said, "Just hope it's a girl. And then you can be done."

So here's the commentary: Without the generosity to life that Granny's mother had, Granny wouldn't exist. She simply wouldn't. Had Granny's mom been part of the sickening, selfish ME generation (who has it's head so far up it's own rear-end, it's lost the basic notion that "in giving we receive"), Granny's Ma would have "been done" well before she hit Granny. Granny is just another casualty in the Catholic battle against secular feminism. A casualty I say. The battle was lost in souls like hers. Although a generous, life-giving culture wrought her, she promotes the antithesis, even in such small, off-handed comments.

Granny went on to tell me (with a sigh) that her only family left attending the parish is her grandson, his wife and their 9-year-old child. They weren't attending today because the parents, both doctors, were at work.

Too bad kids are such a pain in the ass, Granny. Too bad. Cause if you had promoted a culture of life like your dear old Ma did, you'd have your own babies to admire.

Pans Labyrinth

Rent this excellent film on Netflix; I'm not good at describing or reviewing movies so I'll just say it's the most creative movie I've seen in a long time. I'd say it's too violent for anyone under 15.

http://www.panslabyrinth.com/

I Never Tire of Happy Noises

I could be throwing up (morning sickness) & on 2 hours of sleep and their happy noises will breath life into me.

So much else in regard to kids is depleting: toy arbitration, feeding, bathing ... the "bedtime battle."

But watching them play happily. The moments they romp like puppies. When they hug and share toys and chase one another, their laughter just revives my dead old bones.

A Few of You Asked So I'll Be Brief

[Note: This post made my husband nervous. He says I'm pontificating. He's right; but I'm only pontificating as much as a simple wife & mother is allowed; while I've read way more People magazines than Aquinas or Augustine, I base my religious understanding on the Bible, the Catechism, a handful of simple apologetics books, and conversations with those who know more than me; I share what's below because it has brought me great happiness & I hope it will spark discussions with other moms about what really matters (I can handle only so many pregnancy and potty training talks ...)] I'm rarely asked about my Catholicism. When I became Catholic, even super close family members never asked "why." Sometimes this hurt my feelings as I'd hear their assumptions after they trickled down the gossip line. Many of them thought I joined a cult. I was surprised then that they didn't yell "stop." No, they didn't yell at all. They were quiet. I don't mean to throw a pity party. Not at all. I simply mean to remark on how off-limits religion is, especially within families.

So when I am asked as I was recently via email by an old friend or when religion comes up naturally and happily as it did in the park today with a new friend (who feels like an old friend) I'm thrilled to jabber.

So I thought I'd cc you all on my response to Shannon when she asked "What led you to Catholicism?" Here goes:

You asked about our communion with the Catholic Church. Whew, what a question ... but one I'm so glad you asked. In a day in age where religion & politics are off limits, I don't usually get a chance to share about my/ our journey. You are so kind to ask. I'll try to be brief & send you a book (Rome Sweet Home by Scott Hahn) that shares a Presbyterian minister’s conversion & deals with the basic claims of the Catholic Church.

I’ll share just the tip of the iceberg: A few years ago, by God's profound grace and mercy, my husband Pete picked up a few books on Catholic apologetics (he's a doctor -- a math, science, numbers guy heavily addicted to information & getting to the bottom of every issue). At the time, we had, like typical Evangelical Gen X'ers, been through about 5 churches in only 3 years of marriage -- always looking for the "perfect fit" -- where our views of "the Church" in Scripture were made manifest in a community that fit our style.

The apologetics material (one book being Rome Sweet Home by Scott Hahn) forced us to deal with many issues but I’ll limit myself to the three tenets of the Protestant Reformation and their failings:

Sola Gratia: "By Grace Alone": Just kidding about failings; no disagreement here. This is the only tenet of the Reformation that Catholics and Protestants agree on. We are saved by grace. This is why we Baptize babies & retarded folk who are not yet able to make an act of faith -- because our Covenant with our Lord begins by Grace).

Sola Fide: "By Faith Alone": Like I said, what about the babies and retarded folk? I mean NO disrespect, but only to make a point. How can we be justified by faith alone if many are unable to have faith. Here, we partly disagree with the Reformers; in that faith is only required for salvation if the person is capable of faith.

Sola Scriptura: "By Scripture Alone": Here we completely disagree with the well-intentioned reformers. Sorry, Martin Luther, but Christ did not ascend and drop a book from the sky (“Clunk!”) and say, “Here you go folks; figure it out for yourselves.” Rather, Jesus established a visible Church (Matthew 16: 18 “I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hell will not overcome it.”) This Church, which from early on began calling itself “Catholicos” or “Catholic” meaning worldwide, is the only visible institution that has outlasted every civilization, power & authority for over 2000 years. Its tradition “breathed forth” the cannon of Scripture in its councils in the 3rd and 4th centuries. This point served to be the major unraveling of my Protestantism. I had always been taught that the “Word of God” was the Bible and that it alone was the “final authority” in my life on matters of faith and reason. How could I continue to believe that when I was suddenly confronted by the body who brought forth Scripture (or rather, who decided which books were in fact “Scripture.”) Furthermore, the Bible itself never so much makes such a grand claim. Yes, 2 Timothy 3: 16 asserts “All Scripture is God- breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, etc. …” but in 1 Timothy 3: 15, St. Paul refers to the Church as the “pillar and foundation of the truth.” And furthermore, what did folk read before Gutenberg’s printing press made the first print Bible in the 1500’s (not to mention that most of them were illiterate to boot).

So that’s the tip of the iceberg. I call it Sarah leaving Protestantism (this doesn’t mean I’ve given up the beauty of my childhood faith – the personal piety, the worship music, etc -- I take it all with me into and under the authority of the Church). The rest of the iceberg would be called Sarah becoming Catholic. This whole process began in the fall of 2003. It was two years later that I entered the Church with my first Holy Communion and Confession. To this day, however, I’m still becoming Catholic.

The process was and is difficult at times but I can’t imagine where I’d be without the support of the Church and her Sacraments in my life. My marriage is so much fuller and my prayer life has become the focus of my personal “walk.” Through the Church’s teaching I more fully realize what it means to carry one’s cross, but through her graces I’m also given the help to do so.

Much Love and thanks for your interest,

Sarah

PS: (just one last thing – I can’t resist) You can see that the 3 tenets lead to the next key issue of “authority.” I’ll let you tackle that on your own with one question in mind: if your “final authority” in life is the Bible, whose interpretation of the Bible are you heeding? Your own? Your Pastor’s? Oprah’s? Dr. Phil’s? And if the Bible does not need interpretation or a final arbiter (which for me has become the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic body who birthed it) than why are there more than 25,000 (and counting) different Protestant denominations registered with the US government? Jesus said time and again that his people would be “one” and that the world would “know us by our love.” It only makes sense (and there is profound biblical evidence) that Christ established a visible body first on Peter and the Apostles that would grow via apostolic succession, like an acorn into an Oak tree, into what we have today: A Pope, Cardinals, Bishops, Priests and Layman working together to the glory of His Name and His Kingdom.

PSS: AHHHH!! I’m out of control but I promise this is the last one. So where does that leave you in the eyes of the Church, my dear old Protestant friend? You are considered “Separated Brethren” -- “Separate,” yes, but “Brethren” no less. We share a common Baptism. You have the truth but not the fullness of the truth. It would be as if your whole diet consisted of fries and diet coke and I simply pointed out the existence of cheeseburgers. So don’t be annoyed. You like to eat, right? Rome Sweet Home should arrive in a few days. If I haven’t completely annoyed you and if you’re interested it will be a good place to start. Be well & God Bless. Sarah

My Kids Are the Cutest Kids in the Whole World

And I have pictures to prove it. These have been stuck on my camera too long. Some are from the day I dressed the boys to match. I timed everything right: fed them, let them fill their daipers, changed them & kept 'em clean long enough to drive them to K-Mart for their portraits. All that effort to find the photo studio was closed for the day. So the blurry shots above will have to suffice.