I haven't exactly been writing much lately. It's just so nice outside these days. You know how it is. Anyway, here's what we've been up to this week.

School - I officially had to be back at Tisdale Elementary School for three days of meetings this week. I've been there nearly everyday for the past three weeks, but now I get paid for it! Now for those of you who are not familiar with what three days of school inservice meetings are like, simply go spend three days siting on a hard chair without moving, except for a lunch break, and listen to your neighbour down the street talk about his grass the entire time. Ok, maybe it's not that bad.

Maybe

Thankfully this afternoon we were allowed to spend a couple of hours doing odd jobs around the school. In order to expend some energy I volunteered to clean out the old music room. I was tossing around filing cabinets and tables and such until I was informed that teachers are not allowed to move things above such and such a weight! Pretty embarrassing if you ask me. But I say that an unjust law is no law at all, so the afternoon continued on very pleasantly.

School 2.0 - That's right, my other school. I started my final Masters course this week. Mariology, taught by a Catholic priest who has five kids and five grandkids (former Lutheran pastor or something). It's already turning out to be an awesome course. We're beginning with Vatican II's discussion on Mary, then we're examining the immediate fallout, and afterwards going back to study the entire history and theology of Mariology. It's an interesting route to take, sort of like how Citizen Kane begins with the present and then resets to the past. I think the prof is doing this to emphasize the disconnect between how those in the 1970's messed up Mariology, and how we need to reconnect to the true teaching on Mariology. For those unfamiliar, the 1970's is often described as "the decade without Mary," where stories abound such as people having their rosaries taken away... while attending churches such as "Our Lady of the Rosary Parish."

I am already shuddering to think of what life might be like without a Masters course on the go. I will miss it so much! I just want to keep this going. Forever.
Sorry Becca.

School 3.0 - Well not so much for me. But Stephen left for Barry's Bay this week. Can you imagine, he's starting his 3rd year already at OLSWA!? I didn't think OLSWA would last that long...

Oooo. Sorry OLSWA, just a little jab. Faithful readers: donate money to OLSWA (seatofwisdom.org). They can always use it.

Joseph - The past few weeks while at nighttime when Becca and I say an angel of God prayer with Joseph while kneeling he's taken both of our hands and held them while praying! At first we were downright shocked that our son, our son (!), would somehow get the notion of praying while holding hands. I blame the hippies. Needless to say our first reaction was to pull them away horrified! Yet we relented and gave in to his childlike innocence. Soon after we thought it was kind of cute. However, the past few nights I've realized that this cuteness has taken over the actual purpose of what we do: to teach him to pray. Instead of trying to learn the sign of the cross (he almost had it too) he just tries to hold our hands. Instead of saying the words to the prayer (again, he almost had them) he just smiles at us as if to say: "this is fun." And afterwards he puts our hands down and doesn't try to do a closing sign of the cross. Mark my words, holding hands during prayer is a distraction from the devil! We must get him back on track. Maybe we need to pray with our hands outstretched like a cross? Or pray while kneeling on our fingers? Or pray while giving ourselves the discipline?

"That's right Joseph, you just take this belt here and whip yourself as hard as you can while praying to your guardian angel to protect you..."

Ahh, he'd probably think that was fun. Nevertheless, despite cuteness, we must teach our son to pray. He's almost two years old for crying out loud!

RoughRiders - Labour Day classic here we go! Go Riders!

Lingua Mater

I've always wondered about the English language. So much of it to me seems like random arbitrary rules that serve no purpose other than making English majors think they are smart (sorry Becca). For instance, you ask anyone I know around here how they are doing and they will reply: "I'm doing good." Short, to the point, and simple. I grew up on this statement. Then one day in a place far away somebody told me that this phrase was wrong, and that I had to stop using it. They explained that it meant I was actually doing good deeds, and not simply feeling good. I told them to stop judging me. Who are they to say I'm not doing good?!

Another phrase that I'll never understand is when a guy explains to someone that "we're expecting." For instance, if I was to say that Becca is having a baby it would not be me who is having the baby. So then, would it be right to say that she alone is expecting? But I also would be expecting the probable occurrence of a new baby, so in a sense I would be able to say "we're expecting." On the other hand, could anyone in such a circumstance say that they too would be expecting such a baby, simply because a baby would be expected after a certain amount of months? Is the usage of "expecting" simply too vague in such a scenario? Why does the English language have to impose such random and arbitrary rules?

Craziness I say. Other than that, I'm doing good.

Almost 2

In just less than two weeks our little boy will be turning 2. Hard to believe it's been two whole years since we welcomed his little self into this world. And what a two years it's been! Joseph has changed out lives, for better and, well, not worse, but truly more sanctifying. And definitely tons more fun!

Take recently: Joseph has taken up (more) swearing. Dan and I look at each other and roll our eyes, wondering who the heck taught our innocent little child to swear. But the f-bombs and s-slurs keep coming out of his mouth. For example, Joseph can't say "truck" -- a word that gets used, oh, a hundred times a day around here -- and it ends up something like "uck." You get the drift. Then there's "fork" whose poor little "or" sound gets garbled up. And there are so many, many "sh" words that seem to come out something very different.

Then there are the tears. Tears because we had to leave the car cart at the grocery store. Tears because the bear just won't stay put in his position on the dump truck. Tears because we have to leave the park. Tears because he's disciplined for throwing mud in the pool (for the fourth or fifth time). Tears, tears. Terrible twos, you say? No, this little boy is very hard done by.

After the tears at the grocery store this morning because we left that car behind, Joseph came home to flop himself on the kitchen floor, crying. Why? I don't know. He didn't either.

A little later, I turned around to catch a glimpse of Joseph climbing back out of the pool in the yard -- with his shoes and socks on. What is going on? Oh, the little toy was out of reach, so he had to go retrieve it. "We only wear water shoes in the water," seemed to go right over his head. He merely helped me take off the wet shoes and socks, asking to put on his water shoes. A little late.

Can you tell we had a great night's rest last night? I like to console myself with the idea that our challenging days after an awful night's sleep are really out of my control. "If you'd only slept better last night (and let me sleep more), neither of us would be so cranky," I find myself telling him in my mind.

But then, when that challenging little toddler sits down to his beloved noodles and spaghetti sauce for lunch, and for the first time ever remembers to say "thank you" without being told -- well, all is forgiven.

We certainly have our up days and our down days. Lunch and naps usually clear up a lot of our morning crankiness. And while I sometimes like to imagine that this phase is just the beginning of those infamous "terrible twos" (which theoretically last one year), I am sometimes common-sense enough to realize that every stage in child-rearing will have its challenges. As the cashier in the grocery store said this morning, "I think the threes are actually worse than the twos." Maybe, or maybe just different. I cringe to think of teenage years (remembering the awful teenager I was) and then begin again to delight in these early childhood days.

Joseph is learning so much, soaking in everything around him like a very dry sponge. He loves to keep beat to a favourite song and sing the words. He's learned to put his bears to bed and turn on the fan for them, telling us "bear, nap, shhhh." He is endlessly amused by hiding while we try to "find" him, behind a blanket near the couch or behind a chair at the table. He wants to help with the dishes and dries his little plastic cups and bowl himself. He's learned the health benefits (or just yummy goodness) of a morning smoothie, which he calls "m'oosies" or "smoochies." He's learning to fall asleep all by himself at night and sends me on my way out after a cuddle and sing-song with "bye Mom." He likes to sit on the toilet with every diaper change for a pee, and is always hugely impressed with them saying, "ohhh, nice pee." He appreciates the beauty of flowers everywhere (even the little wayside weed), smelling them all with a happy "mmmm." He's almost accomplished the Sign of the Cross, but gets a little tangled trying to do "Holy Spirit" with both hands on opposite shoulders.

I could go on and on, of course. Joseph is our pride and joy, our ticket to heaven, our almost two year-old. We love him on the good days and love him on the not-as-good days. He's here to stay, even through the teenage years, and I couldn't be happier.

Just 1 week old

Almost 1 year-old

Almost 2 years-old

Don't Mess with Thomas

Recently Joseph has taken a liking to Thomas the Tank Engine. So we went to the library to pick up a book to read to him. They are written by Rev. W. Awdry.

I love how the stories always end with a good moral. 

That's right Joseph. If you act up you will be caught by the police and walloped soundly by your father...

Harsh.

St. Chesterton? Patron of Lung Cancer Patients?

Yes it's true. Many in the Catholic world are all abuzz. G.K. Chesterton's cause is up for canonization! Or, rather, it has been approved to be receive some investigation. It's all very preliminary.

St. Chesterton? Or perhaps St. Gilbert? I can't quite wrap my head around it. For an excellent analysis on the subject *hint: don't read what I say* read Canada's resident Chestertonian wit Michael Coren, with his piece here.

I haven't read much of Chesterton. I have some of his books. What I have read of his I more or less enjoyed. My main point of contact with Chesterton is through others. And the quotes they attribute to him are downright legendary. I can only dream of being as witty as old G.K.

But there is one quote that I've always had a problem with though. That is:

“In Catholicism, the pint, the pipe and the Cross can all fit together.” 

Now I remember back in my days at the Academy, being surrounded by fellow Catholics who played hard and prayed hard. For many, it was good to stay up on the odd Friday night to celebrate (perhaps a finished midterm, or a saint's feast day, or a victory at the annual "Turkey Bowl"). But for many of these same students it was always important to get up for the 9am Saturday morning Mass. You see, the faith allows for a "pint" here and there, as long as it doesn't take us away from "the Cross," which truly is our life and salvation.

Now to be fair, my main point of contention is not with the balanced life Chesterton is promoting. It has more to do with "the pipe" (yes, I know, it's not the main argument that Chesterton is getting at).

Some of the Academy students I would hang out with on such a Friday night started getting in the habit of taking out the literal "pipe," or cigar. They would quote to me Chesterton's saying, and then proceed to smoke away. I can't stand any smoke, so it was usually good night for me (probably around 8:30pm anyway... way past my bedtime). Unfortunately, some of these people soon ended up pulling out the old pipe, or cigar, more frequently. "What! Chesterton never said they were so addicting!"

Nor did he say they could kill you...

You guessed it, I know several young people who eventually became addicted to cigarettes, and this addiction stemmed from their celebrating "the pipe." Actually, the following years after I left the Academy, apparently cigarette smoking became an epidemic. And I know darn well that the celebration of "the pipe" contributed largely to this.

Where am I going with this? I'm not here to knock Chesterton. Not too much anyway. He lived in an age when smoking was healthy, right? Even Fred Flintstone was created to sell cigarettes. The problem I have with the quote is that, knowing what we do today (medically speaking), smoking is extremely stupid. To dance with the addicting devil of smoking is not smart. Therefore, we should not take "the pipe" aspect literally. It should be more of a symbol for living a balanced Catholic life of feasting and fasting. Truth betold, we should just change the quote to: "In Catholicism, the pint, the weight bench, and the Cross can all fit together."

As for will there ever be a St. Chesterton, I have no idea. If there is, maybe he'll be the patron of lung cancer patients.

Oooh, harsh! Sorry Chesterton. But it is a little bit witty... and I think you would respect that.

And then probably say something to completely outwit me.


Pipe down G.K.

Identity Crisis

We have a big problem at our house. An identity crisis, in fact. With Joseph's huge milestone increase in the talking department in the last week or so, we've come to realize he doesn't know who he is. He thinks he's Mose!

When we point to him and ask, "who's that?" he responds, "Mose." He hasn't caught on to the "what's your name?" yet, but still identifies things and people with "what's that?" or "who's that?" Now this is all very cute and funny and the way he says "Mose" just makes you want to smile. But really. He can't go around telling people his name is Mose! "He needs to know who he is," as Dan said. 

 So in the last two days we've made a huge, concerted effort to call him Joseph and when we ask him who he is to remind him that he's Joseph. He says Joseph a little like "Jofus" or "Josos," but he does know how to say it. We've made a big deal out of it!

When I catch myself calling him Mose, Dan will ask, "who?" and I'll have to correct myself. We chant his name, we sing his name, we say it a lot.

And you know what? It's working! NOT. Joseph thinks it's a big joke. When he says "Mose" and we tell him, "no, Joseph" he laughs.

He just sat down on my lap and looking at the pictures said, "Mose."

Great! So, yes, we named our child Mose.

Mary, Queen of the Blogosphere

Yesterday I spent most of the day totally immersed in a book for my upcoming Mariology course. The book is "Mary, Mother of the Redeemer" by Spanish priest and professor Juan Luis Bastero.

I dedicated several hours to Bastero's section on Marian exegesis in Scripture. In it he took every single Gospel phrase, and many phrases in the Old Testament, referring to Mary and very meticulously unpacked them. Though the book is extremely scholarly (i.e. slow reading) every paragraph unpacked more and more of the mystery of Mary as found within Scripture. I was totally amazed at the incredible faith of Mary. Everything she does in Scripture exhibits a perfect faith. By evening I was somewhat dreamily remembering all of the many things I read throughout the day... it was just so wonderful. Mary is not only the Mother of God, and our mediatrix with Christ, but she is also the perfect example of living with faith.

* * *

Later in the evening I decided to go on the internet and read the latest in Catholic bloggery. I ended up encountering a certain young blogger from Toronto (V.C.), with very particular Extraordinary Form liturgical leanings, going at it with some of the biggest Catholic bloggers from the States. Long story short, this V.C. guy, though often too severe in his criticisms, was somehow in an argument with the American Catholic bloggers over liturgical abuses. Whether V.C. was right or wrong doesn't matter at this point. As I read on I noticed the American bloggers, M.S., P.C., F.D.L, and many of their followers, repeatedly making fun of and mocking V.C. They kept swooping in and sarcastically replying to his posts. They ganged up and chatted back and forth over how crazy they thought V.C. was. They incited other of their followers to do the same. This went on and on. It came across as disgusting and uncharitable bullying. Again, these are some of the biggest and supposedly brightest Catholic names in North America.

Now I know this stuff happens all the time. I know that I am certainly not above this type of behaviour either. But the juxtaposition really struck me yesterday, having spent most of the day in awe at the peaceful and loving faith of Our Lady. Then to see how the Catholic blogosphere can work on any given day, as a complete contrast to Our Lady, was truly striking.

I'm all for Catholic blogs defending the faith. I'm especially in favour of these blogs taking on controversial subjects head on. If things get heated at times, well, that's ok. I'd rather have an indepth and heated discussion than a blog about flowers, butterflies, and Kumbaya. I even love the use of sarcasm to get points across. But tackling difficult issues head on is very different from gang-bullying and mocking people on the internet. It just struck me as completely counter to the life of Our Lady.

So the point is this: We (especially me) must never lose our heads while on the internet. The ideal is to live and act like Our Lady. Further, great knowledge of the faith means nothing if it is not practiced. At the same time, don't mistake peaceful blogging with writing only about warm-fuzzy thoughts.

That is all.

No Subject I Guess

The August long weekend, or Canadian Civic Holiday, is about to begin. I just want to give a quick shout out to St. Peter Julien Eymard whose feast day is today (August 2nd). St. Eymard (1811-1868) was a French priest known for spreading great devotion to the Blessed Sacrament. Also, my parents inherited, from my dad's parents, a relic of St. Eymard. It is a small fragment of one of his bones.

Here are some good memes I've come across lately, just to get you in a good mood for the weekend:

Have a good weekend. And remember:

By the Numbers: Millions and Billions and 8 or so

In realizing that I haven't blogged in over a week, yet also realizing that I don't know what to say, I decided to zip over to facebook and simply write about the first thing I saw. Pathetic, I know.

Well, the first thing I saw was a brief article posted about how 3.7 million people attended the World Youth Day Mass on Sunday. Yikes! That's impressive.

It reminds me of a meme I saw recently:

I was thinking about this meme the other day. I remember using this line of argument while doing my teacher practicum at the awful Bishop Tonnos high school in Ancaster, ON. There the students would try to threaten me by boldly claiming how they didn't believe in the Eucharist (cannibalism was the buzz word there), and that they had no plans of ever calling themselves Catholic. I would reply that there are over 30,000 new Catholic every day, and that the Church would scrape by until they came to their senses. In other words, "I couldn't hear you over 1.2 billion Catholics."

"I didn't heard what Jeremy said. I had my two Stanley Cup rings plugging my ear."

But the fact is, if there were really 1.2 billion Catholics then there'd be no abortion, gay marriage, decreasing birth rates, and so on. 1.2 billion is just a number that really means nothing. How many faithful practicing Catholics are there? The devil once told St. John Vianney that if there were 5 more in the world like him, the demons would have no effect on the world. 1.2 billion. Heck, 7 billion. It doesn't mean much if it's just Catholic in name.

So going back to World Youth Day. Are we supposed to rejoice in the numbers? Maybe a little. On the other hand, I'm sure WYD is a mixed bag. I'm sure many of the 3.7 million were devout Catholics who had their faith deepened over the week. I'm sure many were hit and miss Catholics who, in being open to the Holy Spirit, will experience some real conversion and growth in their lives. And I'm sure many were there who probably haven't taken their faith too seriously, and after the buzz of WYD decreases, will return to their previous ways of living.

The bottom line for me is this: in a very real sense it is easier to plan months and years in advance, save lots of money, get the necessary travel papers, meticulously pack and plan, and go to WYD in Brazil through crazy busy conditions -  then it is to go to Mass everyday at a nearby church.

In other words, we don't necessarily need 3.7 million people flocking to Brazil for a Papal Mass. We need these 3.7 million people flocking to Mass, DAILY MASS, each and every time they are able. I can't look at 3,700,000 and then see the 8 or so people at our parish daily Mass (most of whom are flaming libs) and think: "gee, the faith has never been stronger!" It doesn't quite add up. Let's hope and pray that the 3.7 million, and the rest of us Catholics, live like real Catholics.

How about this: "I'm sorry, did you say the Church is dwindling? I couldn't hear you over the packed church at daily Mass this morning!"

Now that sounds better.