No, I really shouldn't. It's not right. Too easy. Nothing to gain. Poor people don't need me pointing out the obvious. I've already gone over two days without saying anything.

...But I just can't resist!

We had a triple celebration at the church in Nipawin this past Sunday. Triple as in it was Divine Mercy Sunday (also the octave of Easter), the canonization of two popes, and, cue the drum roll, CWL Sunday!

That's right, because it was the Feast of Our Lady of Good Counsel (never mind that it gets bumped by Easter), and Our Lady of Good Counsel is the patroness of the local CWL, we were treated to the local CWLers taking on the various 'ministries' for Sunday.

They sat up in the front of the church together. Their white hair glistened above their smiling wrinkled faces. With an average age that looked north of 80, it nevertheless was their day to shine.

The first thing that set me off that something special was happening was the noise before Mass. Talking-noise. I mean, it was LOUD in the church before Mass. Particularly at the front, if you know what I mean. Their CWL banner hung proudly in the front. A foretaste of the heavenly banquet, where all the angels and saints hold felt banners in praise of God with words like "peace," "fellowship," and "fire." I even hear that St. Patrick's hand-crafted heavenly banner has a picture of a snake on it. Groovy.

But you should have seen them! All decked out in their blue priestly stoles. You know the ones:

Not actual members from Nipawin pictured here.

 

We are all priests, after all. The only downside of the day was that upstart young Millette/Garez choir, known in the parish simply as "choir C," who insisted on singing pre-Vatican II Easter hymns during Mass, and with an organ accompaniment no less! How dare they disregard the CWL request for that song about peace and friendship! Young whipper-snappers.

Ok, that's enough of that. My point in all of this nuttiness is more of a general wondering. When are we going to learn that liturgy and Mass is not about celebrating ourselves, but about worship of God? Do our songs and 'ministries' speak about God, or are they our own ramblings which essentially worship ourselves? Liturgical rubrics are not nit-picky little details meant only for pharisaical-Catholics. They are actually God's way, through His Church, to bring true happiness and joy to our lives. It's as if we don't know what's best for us, or the best way to worship God, so he graciously tells us how. To do otherwise is to essentially put ourselves above God. It is, as Pope Benedict explained, to make another golden calf.

The renewal of the Church will only happen when we decide to worship God as we ought to. All the preaching of the Gospel in the streets and byways will be of no purpose when people are finally brought to the church to worship, and encounter mere human patting-on-the-back. In other words:

I should make a banner about that.


 



Child Cannibalism

Don't you just want to eat him up?!

I know this mom of ten who's always had a bad case of child cannibalism. She simply looks at new babies and practically starts drooling. When I posted this picture of John Paul on my Facebook last week, she commented, "delicious... definitely start at the cheeks."

Then there's my friend from university who will start gnawing her own fingers to keep herself from eating little babies. I used to babysit my baby twin cousins every Friday night one year at university. My boyfriend (Dan) was 5hrs away and my friend's boyfriend played hockey, so we'd play babies. She used to make sure I never told any other girls about the twins' visit so she could come and have them all to herself.

Yep, bad case of baby cannibalism. And, yikes, I'm getting it again.

When John Paul was first born he rather smelled from the dried blood on his little head and gunk that took me two days to find in the crevice of his neck. Not your beautiful smelling little baby, by any means. But it didn't take long for him to sweeten up and get that milky baby smell all over his soft baby skin. 

For a while there Joseph would tell me, "John Paul smells like garlic." I have no idea if Joseph even really knows what garlic smells like. But now he'll be near John Paul or one of his blankets and say happily, "It smells like John Paul." Yummy! Delicious!

I like to nuzzle my babies. Stick my nose and mouth into the nap of their necks and pretend to eat them. Or get really close in their chubby little cheeks. When I do this to Joseph, he collapses in a fit of giggles and wriggling. John Paul... not so much. He's just not ticklish enough or giggling yet. Instead, he gives me the Dan Millette Special: the quizzical brow. No one can do the brows like Dan and now his little boys seem to be taking after him. 

So, I'll just have to wait for my giggles, but that won't stop me from a little child cannibalism every once in a while. I just can't help myself!

Be Not Afraid

There we were, a group of students and a professor huddled into the tiny and cold library at OLSWA during a Saturday afternoon spring blizzard. I had recently rung the church bells at St. Hedwig's, literally a stones-throw away. Actually, it was the second time I rang them. The day before I rang them when the priest, all too eager to believe the news, had me ring them prematurely. He wasn't dead yet. But now he was. So I rang the bells. One ring for each year of his pontificate.

As we sat in the library a man from a large Ottawa media company interviewed some of us. I don't remember the man except that he had remarkable hair, which leads me to believe it was actually Brian Lilley (now of SUN Media). We sat and talked about what was going through our heads, and hearts. This was so new to us. The only pope we ever knew. The man people called John Paul the Great. The man whom we studied in great depth, right in that very room. We were mesmerized by Fides et Ratio, Veritatis Splendor, and Familiaris Consortio, and rightly so. This great great man. This model of suffering, and love of Mary, and patience, and charity, was no longer. In truth, we were probably more than a little scared. How would the Church carry on without him?

We wondered amongst ourselves whether our Papa had gone straight to heaven. Most of us figured it was very possible. But then our professor, the man with the perfect hair... and I don't mean Brian Lilley... the man who's very name proclaims the Papa we were discussing, spoke up. He stated that we must not act as though our Papa had gone straight to heaven. He explained that being a Pope was a tremendous burden and responsibility. Even the slightest mistake, or weakness in character, could have a profound impact on millions of souls. Therefore, the man with the perfect hair told us that he would be praying for the soul of Pope John Paul II up until the Church confirmed otherwise. This sounded harsh to us. How could this be? But ultimately it spoke of great wisdom, and so I at least adhered to these words and prayed for the repose of the soul of the future saint. And how could he be anything but a saint?

It's been nine years since that unforgettable Saturday afternoon in Barry's Bay. In nine years my idea of Pope John Paul II has changed... "Great"ly. What have I learned in nine years? I've learned about the Pope's weaknesses and mistakes. And they were many. Maciel and the Legionaries.  Appointing Marini, the secretary to the infamous Cardinal Bugnini, as his liturgical MC, and thus leading to many hideous Papal Masses. A totally mishandled sex-abuse crisis. A severe lack of judgement in appointing, and retaining, bishops (despite his incredible memory of knowing all, yes all, of the bishops). It is hard to ignore facts. Pope John Paul II was a sinner who made many, many, mistakes as the Pope. Be it incredible sickness and fatigue that rendered him unable to properly handle issues, or putting faith and trust in people who would inevitably let him, and the Church, down, in hindsight the pontificate of John Paul the Great was not always great. Yes communism crumbled under him. Yes Mary was promoted, as was the proper role of women, marriage, and all things philosophical. But with every good work, a negative action or omission seems to arise.

So that's it? This is my lasting impression of this "saint"? Have I grown cold from him, and even distanced myself from his pontificate?

Let me just point out one thing:

Yes, that's John Paul Millette. Born less than one month ago. John Paul. Not for John Paul I. Or the man with the perfect hair. But for Pope John Paul II. The sinner John Paul II. The Pope who was too sick and weak. The Pope who trusted the wrong people (though many times the right people... Ratzinger). Am I simply ignoring the bad and taking the good? Do I have selective memory?

No. In the end, my lasting memory of Pope John Paul... actually, just let me say it early... Saint John Paul II, will forever be this:

Divine Mercy.

In the end Saint John Paul II lived and proclaimed Jesus' Divine Mercy. And for all the scandals and abuses and lies and deceit that penetrate the world and the earthly Church, it is Divine Mercy that will save us.

The optional closing prayer of the Chaplet of Divine Mercy is as follows:

Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase Your mercy in us, that in difficult moments we might not despair nor become despondent, but with great confidence submit ourselves to Your holy will, which is Love and Mercy itself.

In the end, through St. John Paul II perhaps the most precious and lasting gift I could ever receive has been revealed and made possible. To never despair nor become despondent. To be saved by Christ's Divine Mercy. Though the Church be shaken. Though Masses scream to high heaven with abuses and sacrilege. Though Church leaders sin gravely, even against the young and vulnerable. Though even popes themselves make great mistakes. This one pope has taught, taught by his life, to never despair nor become despondent, but rather with great confidence submit ourselves to Christ's holy will, which is Love and Mercy itself.

"Be not afraid."

Thank you Papa.

St. John Paul II, ora pro nobis.

Women Must Have Dirty Feet, and Other Ramblings

Thanks again to Becca for picking up on the blogging lately to make up for my (sin of) omission. Sometimes I purposely don't blog so that people will think I have a way busier and harder life than Becca. Let's see what early morning ramblings I can come up with on this Holy Saturday (Batman!).

1) Early is right. I've been up since 4am. I don't do well with fasting. I can't sleep knowing that there is nice fresh bacon sitting all alone in the fridge. So what to do but get up, say a few prayers, and work on report cards. Then I get handed a little baby who is wide awake (*wide eyes* "Hi Daddy!") and so I watch Montreal Canadiens highlights with my son. You have to indoctrinate them early.

As I always say: sleep is for the weak.

2) I don't mind late year blizzards. April 18th isn't even late for one. I don't mind so much that winter stays for so long. But for some reason blizzards and crummy weather around Easter always get on my nerves. Good Friday was a blizzard. This morning it was snowing all over again. For Easter we're supposed to have a combination of snow and rain. The one consolation is that Easter "day" extends for eight days, and that next weekend will be nearly as big of a celebration what with Divine Mercy Sunday and the canonization of Blessed John Paul II. Hopefully it will be sunny. Maybe I should just get holy like St. Therese, and God would give me the weather I desire. 

St. Therese: "O Lord, may it rain heavenly roses!" 

God: "Sure!"

3) Speaking of JPII and his upcoming canonization, I really hate that chant "JPII, we love you!" I mean, grow up already. 

4) Speaking of needing coffee and being a grouch...   really I'm not!  

God: "Sure......"

5) Since I've already condemned myself as being a grouch for the day (really I'm not!), permit me to make one small criticism. And I've always been told that before you make a fraternal correction, you must say two good things about the person first. In elementary schools we call this: "two stars and a wish."

Dear Pope Francis: I truly love and appreciate the great insight you shed when preaching about the need to pick up our cross and follow Jesus, and that the devil is not imaginary but rather real and active. I also love your concern for all people and how you teach us to live out the Gospel, and not just know it intellectually. Having said all that, may I remind you of a principle from Liturgy 101: Say the black and do the red. You are making life needlessly difficult for faithful Catholics in these Spirit-of-Vatican-II-I-just-broke-another-hip parts by your inaccurate following of a certain ritual. Please follow the ritual properly, or even just change it formally as you wish and then do it that way. But for heaven's sake stop giving the liberals any excuse to carry on with their liturgical abuses! 

"Hmmm, I don't know where the world would be without your wisdom, Dannyboy."

6) Moving along, I brought home a fancy keyboard from my school for the weekend. Joseph was playing it last night, and then playing along with his guitar while the keyboard played pre-set songs (good ole Billy Joel). He could have played music all night! It makes me smile to see him love music (and sports) so much.

7) I took my drum set to school a couple of weeks ago in order to do some work with my arts ed. students. Joseph has been asking me multiple times everyday to bring the set back. He's very concerned you know. I think I will have to go get it today. He drummed off the paint from a book shelf downstairs! Tsk tsk.

8) To which John Paul said:

"Oh, my big brother is going to get it now!"

9) I just realized that Easter falls on 4/20 this year. What better way to celebrate than with a high Mass?

10) Have a blessed Easter everyone! I hope I'm not wishing this too early. You know, the greeter-minister-in-the-spirit-of-Vatican-II-and-crap-I-just-broke-another-hip at church yesterday greeted everyone who came in with a big ole: "Happy Easter!" And I'm like: "I just wanna maybe have Good Friday first, if that's ok."

I know, I know. "Grow up!"

Child of God

Two Sundays ago, at just 10 days old, we had our little heathen baptized. Dan's brother, Fr Darryl, did the necessary priestly functions and John Paul's uncle and aunt, David and Roxanne, happily accepted the enormous task of praying for him and helping us raise him Catholic.

Fr Darryl asked us the introductory questions: "What do you ask of God's Church for John Paul?" and "Do you clearly understand what you are undertaking?"

Um, wow! Once again, for the second time in my life under such circumstances, I was totally overwhelmed. Do I clearly understand what I am undertaking? Yikes! We're undertaking to raise a saint!

I stood there in disbelief and reverence at this awesome and enormous responsibility that God gives us as Catholic parents. In a simple "Yes" we are taking on the task of raising our child in the Faith, a task I might add that seems increasing difficult in our world.

Sometimes I wonder why we want to bring children into this world at all. It's a big, bad, ugly place in many ways. And it's going to be so hard to raise decent kids, not to mention saints.

Yet, I'm reminded of a quote that was (surprisingly) framed in the delivery room where I had John Paul. I don't recall the exact words, nor who the author was, but the gist was that having a baby is a beautiful way to participate in one of God's miracles. So why complain? Why fuss? We are aiding God in a miracle!

If having a child in the first place is a miracle, then surely I could quickly add that raising a little saint might actually entail a huge miracle! Us, raise saints?! Is that even possible?

I'm encouraged and saved by the fact that these kids aren't really ours. Well, they are. I certainly carried them for 9 + months inside and went through a heck of a lot to get them out. But they're on loan. They're God's children now, adopted through the Sacrament of Baptism. 

Surely, if God blessed us with these handsome little boys and our Faith to pass on to them, with His grace we will be able to do our best to raise them in that Faith. That's not to say, God's grace is sufficient so we don't have to do much. No, of course not. I'm sure we're only beginning to realize the enormous task our parents had raising us Catholic and what a 'miracle' it is that we and all of our siblings still attend Mass. It's going to be really, really tough. But we do get special graces.

When I look at our great saints, mothers and fathers, I think of St Monica, St Helen, the parents of St Therese. They certainly didn't have it easy! Poor Monica spent her life in prayer and tears, begging God for the conversion of her son, Augustine. But when he finally experienced an incredible conversion, what a saint!

Yes, we sure have our task cut out for us. It won't be easy to pass on the Faith and keep our kids Catholic. I'm sure there will be tears and many, many prayers. In fact, I think the hardest part is that, in order to raise little saints, we have to become saints ourselves. Daunting? You'd better believe it!

But by the grace of God and some intercessory prayer by the heavy-weights we've named our sons after, we hope and pray that this may be done.

Life with 2

Where to start? I'm sitting here typing one-handed while holding a sleeping John Paul wrapped in a cozy blanket and wearing nothing but a diaper. You see, he threw up all over his sleeper and was so distraught that I just held him close after stripping him and didn't bother to dress him. The ordeal tired him out and he fell sound asleep. 

C'est la vie!

It's life in the fast lane at a really slow pace, this life with two boys. Time flies and we accomplish little things like everyone dressed by 10am and nursing for two days without puking and starting a blog post.

Dan is back at school this week after a very weirdly timed, but hugely providential spring break last week. Joseph has asked a few times each day where Daddy is. He misses his buddy. And while he waits for John Paul to grow up and play Lego, he's starting him young with the toy cars and brings them to him (placing them carefully right by his head). 

We had a crazy "break" with semi-regular throw-ups and a few hospital runs. Our little man's system was ironing itself out (Dan wonders aloud why they come out yet if there are all these digestive things still to figure out) and I was learning to listen to his little body while nursing. Thankfully, the worries of high potassium and slow weight gain are now behind us... but only after too much blood work and naked baby weighing.

We're still trying to figure out if there's a reason behind the tiniest one's need to scream regularly or if he just feels the need to make himself heard. So far, there's no rhyme or reason, but we're still settling in and perhaps once again I'll have to cut the dairy or something else in my diet.

It's amazed me, again, how much work a new baby is. Nursing takes forever, changing is so finicky, sleeping is irregular... if they weren't so adorable, well, but they are and so we do it all with joy and love!

And we are so in love with our little man. He is so sweet!

If we ever had a feeling as to whether we were having a boy or girl, both Dan and I thought boy. And in the last few weeks before his birth, every time we asked Joseph he responded boy without hesitation. I am so thrilled to have boys! I'm sure girls are so wonderful in their own way, but I was hoping for another boy, for Joseph and just because. 

Joseph proudly tosses around the "my brother" phrase. "I'm just talking to my brother," i.e. squishing him in his rocking chair. "I want to sleep with my brother." "Mom, bring my brother here." He is an awesome big brother (!) although still has some room to grow in understanding how to act around a new baby. 

It's been a little hard on Joseph learning to "share" his Daddy and, especially, his Mommy. Regularly, I hear "Mom, do you want to play cars with me? Sit here on the floor" and so often I have to respond that I'm nursing or walking or something his precious little brother. But Joseph has really, really grow up too. He puts on his own boots (on the right feet!) and fetches things for me and sings to his little brother.

And as for that little brother... well, he's a bit of a screamer, as mentioned, sleeps, eats, and poops. After all, he's just two weeks old. He came out with a bit of chub and is adding to it. He's looking more like a little person and not the wrinkly little sausage he came out as. He sucks his little fingers, wants to keep moving all. the. time., gives his Mom a run for her trouble trying to burp him, and is learning to sleep despite the constant construction noises his older brother makes. And he's smiling these adorable little nerve smiles that new babies give, just so you don't get any ideas of sending them back. 

We are so in love and have no intention of sending him back. He's a keeper! And his older brother would agree.

*This entire post brought to you by one-handed typing over two days*

Bath time for the boys and a sneeze comin' on

"Ooooo" first outing outside in his baby carrier. Thanks for the snowsuit Aunty Elaine!

Happy

Cute

4 Years

4 years ago we danced to this song. It was the best dance of my life! 

Usually, first dance songs seem to be all about the girl. This one is more about the guy. I guess he's one lucky guy. We sang it to each other. Somehow, it's our song. Ok, enough sap...

Adored

by Collective Soul

Happy Anniversary, poopy dear! Here's to many more...

On Dealing with It, and other Points to Ponder

1) This Sunday is D&P Share Lent Sunday. Or as I prefer to call it: Lifesitenews Sunday. A great time to support a worthy organization. And I don't mean the former. Meanwhile, Joseph's been doing his part this week to scrunch up as many Share Lent pew cards as he can find. We must do our part, one scrunch at a time.

2) I remember that first weekend when Joseph was born. I was alone at Sunday morning Mass and a man I knew from the parish in Ancaster stopped to chat with me for a while and congratulate me. After a few moments he asked: "so has the new-father high worn off yet?" I didn't know what he meant. He just smiled at me knowingly. Well, several hours later I knew exactly what he meant. The first week or two with a newborn is exhausting. They hit you right in your nerves.

This time around with John Paul I think I had about a 90 minute new-father high. After that, sheer exhaustion and labour (as in work, not child-bearing labour) overwhelmed me. As of last night Becca and I were still feeling the crunch.

3) But rather than complain about all that has happened, and the many trips to the hospital this week (why don't baby's bodies work like they should when they're born?) the reality is that we should be, and are, extremely grateful for this wonderful new child in our lives. I know so many people who would give their left arm in order to have what we have. It's tough, but it's a good tough, if you know what I mean. As Father Z posted earlier this week:

That's right. We must deal with it.

4) As of tomorrow late afternoon, if all goes well, we no longer will be living with a heathen! My brother is coming to baptize the little guy!

5) The baptism will be a good excuse to have a bit of a break from lent. For whatever reason this week I've simply been dying to watch T.V. and have a glass of wine. I feel like a heroin addict or something. Actually, I don't know what they feel like. But my nerves have been dying for just a little hit of hockey, or Leave it to Bryan, or even Income Property.

Now that's desperate!

6) I've realized in many ways that Joseph is not like me. Case in point: his favourite thing in the morning is to drive around in his car eating old dry bread and drinking water. I mean, at least pretend the water is coffee or something.

7) On the other hand, he is very much like me. We play music together, workout, play legos, eat, sleep, and do just about everything together. Scary.

8) Before I was married I grocery shopped 5 times a week. I had nothing better to do really. It was my chance to get out and see people. Well, this past week I've grocery shopped nearly everyday. Old habits are hard to kick. Now if I had just been able to watch T.V. instead, think of all the money we would have saved...

9) Two weeks until Easter. Becca and I really really want to make it to Saskatoon for Easter Sunday in order to attend the Latin Mass. Although Easter is inherently joyful, it was such a let down last year having such a disgustingly ugly Triduum (minus our Good Friday singing). How is it even possible to wreck the most beautiful liturgy? Leave to the libs here. I think they might be shocked when they die to discover that the Heavenly liturgy is not a hippy singsong.

10) Just to end on a perfect ten. It's back to work on Monday. Now no one in the history of the world feels sorry for teachers when it comes to breaks. I am grateful to have had the last week off though. I don't know what we would have done at home! We'd deal with it, I guess.

And, just because:

Dreaming about nursing.