Happy 5th Day of Christmas!

It's sometimes hard to remember that Christmas lasts longer than Christmas and Boxing Day or even that it's longer than the wonderfully long holidays that Dan has at home. We've been trying the past few years to extend the Christmas Season just like in the Church, by keeping our tree up longer and our Nativity sets out. But it's still hard to feel like it keeps going because the partying disappears and we surely can't continue to consume treats every day like we were this past week.

It wouldn't feel like holidays around here if we (Dan) didn't have at least one reno/redo project on the go. Dan started out his holidays by giving our little used "office" a fresh coat of paint. The previous paint was very literally peeling off the walls and the ceiling needed a bit more popcorn where mold had been scraped off in the past. With that done before Christmas, he's now working on a few more little aesthetic touches on our basement bathroom we repainted last year.



Joseph and John Paul are always our eager little helpers at whatever projects are underway. Whether it be painting or baking, they are quick to add appropriate workerman gear to their outfits and jump right in. We baked and decorated a bunch of gingerbread men. John Paul was delighted with the opportunity to dump a bunch of icing on a cookie and promptly ate his cookies before he even got to the sprinkles part.



We headed for Nipawin on Christmas Eve to spend a few days with the entire Millette gang. In true French fashion, we always go to midnight (ok, just 10pm) Mass on Christmas Eve and stay up really late opening gifts, eating tons of good food, and chatting. Our boys didn't go to bed until nearly 2am, but loved every minute of the celebrations and showed nary a sign of sleepiness throughout Mass and all the festivities.

We received loads of presents, including the boys' (read: Dan too!) favourite: another set of Magna Tiles to add to their well-used beginner set. 

Joseph and John Paul loved playing with their Millette cousins (10 grandchildren on that side, so far). They also got in lots of outdoor play time and skating on the rink. Joseph is becoming a really great little skater and looking forward to starting hockey next year! John Paul latched on to his big cousins, Marie (10) and Catherine (4), and followed them around playing ring-around-the-rosie.

As usual, there was more food than could comfortably be consumed and trays and trays of goodies. Grandma pulled out her candy stash and all the grandkids made their own little gingerbread houses, making sure to stuff extra candy inside for additional sugar consumption.

We're home now catching up on sleep after all our late nights and exercising to try to make up for all the sweets we ate. Oh, and eating gingerbread houses and all the leftover food Grandma sent home with us.

Christmas Cards

We've accomplished our life long dream. We can now die in peace. What was this dream? To make it on Fr. Z's blog, of course. Fr. Z, our favourite priest blogger, posted his address and invited people to send him Christmas cards. So we did. You can see it here.

Speaking of Christmas cards. Here is ours.

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  The Millette Family Christmas Letter: 2015

SPOILER ALERT REGARDING THE EXISTENCE OF SANTA CLAUS:

Welcome to our second annual Christmas letter. I almost didn’t get a chance to make this year’s letter. I was very nearly carried away by an angry mob of grade 3ers the other day. You see, we were playing a little acting game for drama class and I was having them act out fairy tale characters, and other such characters who are not real. I was giving some suggestions to them: “Rapunzel, Buzz Lightyear, Santa Claus…,” when I nearly had my head taken off. “What do you mean Santa!?!” Whoops. I guess it slipped out. “Did I say Santa?” “Yes!” they responded in shock. “What do you mean? Santa is real. What are you saying?!” I stammered for a while, visions of endless phone calls from angry parents dancing in my head... “Umm, uh.. yeah, I meant, um… I meant… I meant the ones at malls who pretend they are Santa, but aren’t…” “You mean the ones who don’t have real beards?” a boy piped up. “Yeah, that’s how you tell if it’s the real Santa, by the beard,” replied a little girl. “That’s right,” I carried on, with confidence, “those mall Santas who don’t have real beards… very disappointing... that’s how you know.” And so class carried on. My job was safe. More like my life was safe.

Such is the state of Christmas. It’s all about Santa. More accurately, it’s all about presents. Joseph, now 4 years old, is intrigued by the idea of Santa Claus. We talked to him about St. Nicholas, but he still comes back to talking about Santa. Who is this person who gives gifts? We tell him it’s baby Jesus. He seems skeptical. But it is baby Jesus. I’m convinced. All gifts. All presents. All blessings. They all come from baby Jesus. It’s his birthday. He is real. Beard or no beard. And truly, the only real question is not whether or not Santa is real, or fake bearded. The real question is: what are we giving Jesus for Christmas?

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! 

From Dan, Becca, Joseph, and John Paul

_____________________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you instead tell the people how our year went?” asked Becca. “Why would I do that? If they want they can just read our blog instead! You know: millettefamily.blogspot.ca/” answered Dan.

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            A Busy Year             

March 27 – John Paul turns one. He then promptly quits nursing and starts potty training. No, actually that still hasn’t happened.

April 24 – Becca and the boys meet Roughrider star Weston Dressler.

May 1 – Grandma and Grandpa Bear come to visit. The first of three visits this year.

July 2–15 – Becca gets a new bathroom. Danny gets a new respect for plumbers.

August 4 – We officially buy our “new van”. A 2011 Grand Caravan. It’s Momma Mary blue.

September 1 – Danny enters his fourth year of teaching at Tisdale Elementary School. This year’s assignment is Phys. Ed. and Arts Ed. prep coverage for grades 2-5.

October 3 – Becca makes spring rolls. No, actually that still hasn’t happened.

December 2 – As we sit brainstorming our year the thought finally dons on us: We did nothing this year.

                              

                        

Boy oh Boy, More Quotes:

Mommy: “Who do you want to pray for?” John Paul: “Papa (Grandpa), Mama (Grandma), MeeMee (Uncle Stephen), Mommy, Daddy…” Joseph: “No John Paul!!! That’s too many people!”	Joseph, playing with the drawstring on his pants: “when there’s no pee coming, you tie your pants.”
Heard from the living room… Joseph: “John Paul, you hit me and I’ll hit you!”	Joseph: “Let’s have a family hug, with no John Paul!”
Daddy: “Joseph, you need to wear a mask if you want to help me smash the bathroom.” Joseph: “Yeah, I could wear a tiger mask!”	Mommy to Daddy at one in the morning: “You’re taking up half the bed, go sleep with Joseph.”
Mommy: “Joseph, who do you want to pray for?” Joseph: “St. John Paul the Second.” Mommy: “Um, he’s already in heaven. Who do you want to pray for?” Joseph: “…St. Joseph… is he in heaven?”	Catching John Paul (18 months) in the living room all by himself, two remotes in his hands, and watching TV while lounging against the couch… Mommy: “What are you doing?!?” John Paul: “Daddy!”
Joseph, while colouring his lent day-tracking calendar: “I’m going to colour them all in, then it will be Easter.”	Daddy: “Joseph! You’re knocking your food onto the ground!” Joseph: “That’s ok, John Paul can eat it.”
Joseph, with a huge smile on his face, running out of his room to us first thing in the morning: “Guess what!?! I had the goodest dream ever!!!!” Daddy: “What did you dream about?” Joseph: “I dreamed I learned how to run faster!!!” *he then runs around the house for the next 5 minutes*

Adventageous Example

Advent. That time for pondering the coming of Christ, all the while fighting the spirit of the world. The spirit of the world is so confused. It demands we celebrate Christmas before Christmas. Parties. Music. Decorations. Lots and lots of present. Yet ironically it refuses to even mention the word "Christmas". As Catholics we, or at least we should, simply do our thing. The worldly spirit doesn't need to tell us how to celebrate Christmas. It's our holiday, thank you very much, and we can celebrate it much better than the spirit of the world. It's advent. We're hopefully busier than ever in preparation, both spiritual and material.

And that spiritual preparation is key. It's not the coming of Christ we're looking forward to. It's the second coming of Christ. Don't get the two confused. We don't prepare, confess, pray, and read simply to have a warm fuzzy feeling at Midnight Mass, as if God were saying: "Good job, here's your reward, a heart full of holly... and a candy cane which will be handed out after Mass." And then boxing day it's back to the usual sinful ways. Sorry, there's an eschatological work going on with advent. Prepare for Christmas, yes. Prepare for Christ again, double yes. The preparation for Christmas helps with the preparation for the second coming.

Take the baby in the manger. This, undoubtedly is the central aspect of Christmas. God, so very very humble, comes down to us as a baby that will eventually save us. A baby! You know those little creatures who burp and poop and drool and eat constantly? The ones that sleep all day and are up all night, just because it's fun? The ones that are unable to survive beyond a few minutes without the care of someone? Those helpless babies. The least of all. God becomes one. And anyone who does not see the need to be humble in order to prepare for Christ's coming surely does not see the point of Christmas.

Yet my life right now is mesmerized by not so much the baby age, but more little people. Joseph and John Paul. In them, and their goofy antics, they teach me just how humble, yet mighty, baby Jesus is. Take our last Mass. It was nearing the time for the collection. The time when all properly raised boys get excited. Money at Mass! What an important thing! Time to stop fooling around and "pay" attention! So the person was coming with the collection basket. I placed money in John Paul's hands. I sent him to the edge of the pew. I then sent Joseph with John Paul, but only after seemingly an hour of instruction to Joseph: "Help him give the money. Go with your brother. Help him put the money in the basket... and whatever you do, don't let him leave." With those words Joseph stood up, watched John Paul for several moments, and then turned back and looked at me as John Paul made a break out of the pew. He walked to the back of the church. I got out of the pew to go after him. There was a crowd in my way, so I never made it. Eventually the person taking the collection arrived at the back, and John Paul amazingly slam dunked the money into the basket. He then started wandering back to the pew. Satisfied that no harm had been done, I also started back. But John Paul just kept walking. Apparently our priest made the mistake of saying his name when he saw him. John Paul walked right to father up at the front. Father kindly picked up John Paul and said hi. John Paul then loudly, and aided by father's lapel microphone, started explaining to father (and the entire congregation): "Money! Money!" John Paul eventually came back to the pew, and Mass carried on.

Little boys are mysterious. On one hand they have all the humility in the world. I mean, what any adult would find embarrassing, for a little boy it's perfectly fine. It's ok to be small. Helpless. Even dare I say not that bright. On the other hand, they have all the power in the world. We eat out of their hands. They can say "money" to everyone at Mass and suddenly there's a room full of adults in awe. Humble. Powerful. Just a hint of a glimpse at baby Jesus, the perfectly humble yet all-powerful child.

Advent preparation demands humility. Sometimes when the world demands we sit in our proverbial pew and do as expected, sometimes we need to stand up, and walk against the flow. Sometimes that upteenth Christmas party (in November, no less) can be skipped. Or someone's "Happy Holidays" greeting can be returned with "Merry Christmas". Or the poor can be helped without anyone knowing about it. Or even we can dare to survive without blowing the bank on presents. Think of the child in the manger. Don't forget Him.

Tonight, as Becca and I were praying our rosary, we were serenaded by Joseph and John Paul. They were holding holy books and rosaries and calmly walking around the house singing carols. They didn't know the words. But they sang, ever so sweetly. Those crazy boys. Their hearts ready to welcome another little boy, who is named Jesus. A true display of preparation. Of humility. And yes, of power.

A child will be born. And He will come again.

Are we ready for that?

In Recent News...

The Millette family of the Millette Family Blog will be welcoming its newest member sometime in late June or early July. We are thrilled! Mommy is tired!

Points to Ponder - Advent Edition

Some points to ponder after a very busy last couple of weeks.

1) Baptism

A couple of weeks ago we made it to Saskatoon to attend the baptism of our newest nephew, James Edward Rogal. Welcome to the Church! Baptism, as soon as possible, is the lifeline of grace. And the boys were quite thrilled to be able to hold a baby.

 2) Calvin and Hobbes

Remember Calvin's legendary snowmen?

Well apparently Joseph is a little Calvinist at heart. Must be predestined. I looked out and here is how he left his snowman Louie.

 He explained that he was just keeping his stick in a place where he'd remember it for next time. Sure.

3 ) Lego my Santa

We made a Lego Santa with a sleigh yesterday. The boys are having fun making him fly around and go down chimneys.

4) Reading Right

Yesterday Becca was in the living room with John Paul. She told John Paul to read himself a book. So he took out a book, laid it on the floor, and began flipping through it. A minute or so later he figured out he was reading the book upside down (always an exciting time when kids start to figure this out). The ever-brilliant John Paul quickly rectified this. He stood up, walked around the book to the other side, and then sat down to read the book on the correct side.

5) Lord Have Mercy

The year of mercy has begun. It began with a light show on St. Peter's Basilica in Rome, with images of animals, Buddhists, and "climate change" being shown. What better way to have Catholics go around saying: "Lord have mercy"?

6) Gimmicks

Apart from the sacrilege of using such a sacred building for a profane purpose, what really bothers me with climate change talk in general is not so much the debatable science, but the sheer hypocrisy. Climate change activists call out everyone else for wrecking the environment. They then pat themselves on the back for their work. But, of course, truth be told they're the worst offenders. For example, some of the teachers at my school express themselves as being caretakers of the environment. They go on about how we need to take better care of our planet. These are the same teachers that drive 1.5 hours everyday for work, even though there have been many available teaching jobs closer to home. Meanwhile, the uncaring Mr. Millette, the one who doesn't go all gaga over the planet, moved to the town he teaches in, thus saving having to ever drive to work. The others own cabins. Go on big trips to Mexico and Cuba. Have multiple vehicles. Hypocrisy. It's everywhere, such as the thousands of delegates being flown to Paris to talk about such things as the effects of vehicle pollution on the environment. It's sad to see the pope be a part of this secular agenda. As someone pointed out, even in his encyclical Laudato Si he spoke on such this as "visual pollution" (par. 44).

Unfortunately antics such as displaying climate change images on the Vatican are taking away from Peter's perceived teaching authority. Gimmicks are generally not to be taken seriously. I think of junior hockey teams. The latest trend is to have gimmick nights. Star Wars night. Dog night. Ugly sweater night. It seems every night there is a gimmick to try and get butts in the seats at the rink. Eventually, though, what is needed is good hockey, and people who want to watch good hockey. It's the same with the Church. Gimmicks take away from what is really going on. Eventually you need a strong Church that stands out for what it is (Divine), not for what images it literally projects. Otherwise religious submission of mind and will more frequently turns into a simple rolling of the eyes. It's sad. Pray for our pope. I don't go to a hockey game to see Star Wars. I don't look to the Vatican to see David Suzuki.

7) The Pope

All will be well, though. All will be well. John Paul has been demanding all morning to be pope. He's been yelling "Ooh, Ooh!" (pope, pope). So Becca quickly dressed him up. Joseph joined with his St. George suit. These stubborn little boys, if formed right (gulp), will fight for the Church.

Now this is a beautiful image:

I've Been Called Worse

Seeing as I teach nine different classes, close to 200 students, I have a difficult time in remembering names. However, if you'd think it's tough to remember student names, apparently it's way harder for the majority of these 200 students to remember my name.

Start with the grade 5s. They're pretty good, except for the class where they have another male teacher. I'll be addressed as Mr. Kubat usually about 10x per class.

Then the grade 4s. I replace two male teachers! This means, on any given day, I will be called Mr. Yee or Mr. LamMa more than I will be called Mr. Millette. Sometimes I end my mornings not even knowing who I am. Like, do I go home for lunch? Do I still have a home? I'm confused.

The grade three teachers I replace are female, so grade three is where I start to get called Mrs. Either Mrs. __________ (Classroom teacher), or simply Mrs. Millette. I always respond that she's probably at home putting a boy down for a nap, but they can call her if they need to.

Finally there's the grade twos. I am Mrs. Pilling to most of them. There is no differentiating. Teacher = Mrs. Pilling. But there is hope. Things are getting better. I think. I was called Mr. Pilling last class. On one hand I'm thrilled to be considered a Mr. On the other hand, I don't know how my wife feels about me now being Mr. Pilling.

All in all, it shows me that younger children rely on familiarity. They crave a steady and comfortable environment. The best example comes from a few years ago when I taught grade one. One boy, in a sweet innocent voice, asked me in front of the entire class: "Mom, can you help me?" I was touched. To think that I help him to the degree that a mother helps her own child! I responded with an equally sweet: "of course, dear."And I was never called mom again. It's all good. Really.

I've been called worse.

On the Feeding of Boys

If there's one thing I've learned in my 5+ years of marriage, it's the importance of keeping a man well-fed. The old adage "The way to a man's heart is through the stomach" sums it up nicely. I might also add: "The key to happy boys is constant feeding" and "Nothing beats meat and potatoes". I could also truly say that "A woman's place is in the kitchen" because that is the simple answer to true happiness living with boys and men.

Over 80% of my day is spent in the kitchen (I don't think that's much of an exaggeration, either). We eat 3 square meals a day and at least 2-3 snacks. I cook on average twice to three times a day, easily. We eat homemade soup at least a few times a week and most suppers are either from-scratch or from-scratch-leftovers-repurposed. Then there's the baking of endless stacks of muffins, homemade bread, and the odd dessert. (I have no time to blog because I'm so busy feeding you guys, Dan!)

Of course, you learn to take short-cuts: like making twice as much oatmeal one morning so it doesn't take as long the next; like cooking a bunch of hamburger meat and freezing it so there's a speedy supper some night. But all in all cooking for a family of hungry boys takes a lot of time! And then it's gone in a matter of seconds and you're right back at it (or more immediately, cleaning up the mess it made).

John Paul has recently taken to eating copious (and I mean copious!) amounts of food. We think it shows, weight-wise, but the other day Grandma commented he was losing weight! What! And take him in public and he's an embarrassment (:)). When visiting friends he will eat any and all food they put out for consumption and then take the liberty of relieving himself, at their house! I jest, of course, because people are free to do this, but until recently our kids somehow felt these types of relief were best taken at home or Grandpa and Grandma's.

Joseph, on the other hand, is and always has been, a picky eater. He will regularly say, 3-4 bites into a meal, "I'm too full, I can't eat all this food." After the "just eat it" and "4 more bites," John Paul will have already scarfed down his own meal and be more than happy to take his older brother's food off his plate. Within seconds (ok, minutes, but very few) of a meal being over, Joseph will come up with an "I'm hungry, can I have a snack?" line. (Don't worry, we're too smart for his games!) But so help me, if we're eating meatballs or burgers or meat and potatoes, it's back for seconds and thirds for this guy.

Meat and potatoes... the prize of all prizes, the meal of meals. Although I'm no meal-planning guru, I do try to vary what we eat and have the healthiest proportions of veggies to all the other stuff. I go to great extents some days to try something new or make a beautifully coloured meal. (But don't go asking for foodie pictures because our kitchen +  my plating skills can make even the most beautiful dishes look drab!) Some days, though, when I just can't figure out anything for supper and it's long past the time for thawing anything, I resort to just plain meat and potatoes. Ground beef, fried up with onions and made gravy-like, and mashed potatoes. That's it! But from the man-sounds at the table, you'd think I put prime steak and something fancy in front of them. Simply: Best Meal Ever. It is my husband's love language (although he hates the term). One night I put the meat over roasted potato wedges and called it a sort-of-kind-of-poutine. They put cheese on it and fell madly in love. Seriously, meat and potatoes.

But so help me, once you start feeding them, you have to keep feeding them. On the clock. 12noon. 5pm. And if supper's not almost read at 4:45 and there are no veggies out to hold them back, they will become ravenous little beasts and everything falls apart. Even the grown man. I like to joke to the boys when they complain about stopping whatever I'm doing with them to make supper: "What's Daddy going to say if he comes home and there's no food?" The answer: (growling) "Where's my supper!?" It's never happened (or not quite like that), but it sure works, every time, and we get to work at the never ending task of preparing food to be scarfed down in a matter of seconds.

You have boys?! Seriously, just feed them (meat and potatoes, if at all possible) and they will love you forever and ever. Or at least until the next snack/meal.

Cooking, a.k.a. taking out as many utensils, pots, and containers as possible when mom's not looking

A Priest Forever: Remembering Fr. Bruno

Every now and then Becca and I talk about the saints of our time. Surely there must be some out there! We then ponder all the possible saints we have known, or have met, during our lifetime. There was always one person I would place at the top of my list...

Recently I learned of the death of Father Bruno Kartanowicz. Fr. Bruno died in Poland on Friday, Nov. 20th. Fr. Bruno, originally from Poland, served Our Lady of Czestochowa parish in Saskatoon for a number of years. This is where I met him. Fr. Bruno also offered the Extraordinary Form Mass there.

It was in my first year of university in Saskatoon where I started going regularly to the EF Mass. My first impression was not so much the language, or the actions, or vestments, or anything like that. My first impression was the old priest who could literally make your body shake with his incredible tenor voice. After that Mass I was hooked. And subsequently, the good Lord gave me the opportunity to become a member of Fr. Bruno's flock. Fr. Bruno was a faithful priest. Always in the confessional before Mass. Always saying Mass beautifully. But it was one evening when I and a few friends were at his rectory where I really got to know him better.

Here was a man who lived a legendary life of suffering, and trust in God. He spent a long time in a Russian gulag. He told us horrific stories of what life was like. People dying right before him. Orphans crying for their parents. The pain. The starvation. All in all, he more or less made a deal with God that if he got out of there, he'd become a priest. And what a priest he was. He told us stories, in his heavily accented English, of his connection to the souls in purgatory. Often souls would make noises in the rectory. He would then have to look up where the noise was coming from. Once he noticed it was because a Mass which was supposed to be said for a certain departed person had not yet been said. He said the Mass shortly after, and the noises stopped. This was simply the life Fr. Bruno experienced.

Fr. Bruno even talked briefly about his experiences with exorcisms. It was then that he looked sharply at the guys in the group. He made us promise to never, ever, get involved in exorcisms. It was too much. Just too much to imagine. We did. Then he cheerfully continued with telling stories. That night I knew I was learning from much more than a regular priest.

As the year went on, my last in Saskatoon, Fr. Bruno was as steady as a rock. His church was in the roughest neighbourhood in Saskatoon, and often he'd be tired in the morning from dealing with who knows what awful situations the night before, but again he was always a rock. Always there for confessions. Always willing to help us out with our crazy adoration/retreat ideas. And always loving his parishioners with all he had.

As he grew even older he still kept on plugging away. His hearing wasn't that great, and often he'd be telling you to speak up while in confession. Sometimes he'd start giving you absolution before you were finished, because he couldn't hear you speak. And the penances were always to pray for the souls in purgatory.

About two and a half years ago Fr. Bruno decided to return to Poland. I'll never forget his last Mass in Saskatoon. At the end of it all the children lined up to give him hugs and receive a little treat (as they did each and every Sunday). The hugs were so sad. I could've sworn there was an onion farm nearby! So sad. We brought Joseph up to Father. He hugged Joseph and in the sweetest and truest voice ever spoken said to Joseph: "I love you."

We pray for you Fr. Bruno. You were so good to the souls in purgatory. So good to us. May the good Lord see fit to have you continue this work in heaven.

We love you.

Another Perfect Day...

Time for a Mommy-Blog, Daddy style. Becca has dropped off the blog-o-sphere of late and has not been updating the awaiting world on the day to day activities our our family. Let's just say that if she treated her soul the way she treats her blog... well... she'd be in some serious trouble. So I will pick up the slack. Here's a Christ-the-King family blog. Enter pictures of cool crafts, happy kids, good food, and all around lying about how perfect life is.

First, we had to make a crown for Jesus. So I made one. This was a neat and simple craft. I took some paper. Then with some scissors I cut out a narrow rigid strip. I then coloured it with yellow and added spots to represent jewels. Then I taped the strip of paper in a circular shape. The result was a crown for Jesus.

Okay, I'll stop with the poking fun at crafty blogs. But yeah, we made a crown. It took 15 seconds. Joseph was impressed. He insisted we put the statue of Jesus on the table, because: "the table is higher up... just like heaven." Solid reasoning. He then wanted to make a crown for himself. I protested that Jesus was the king, not him. He seemed a little down on that answer, but after a couple of seconds or reflection retorted: "then I'll make one for Christmas." "Why?" I asked. "Because I will be one of the three kings!" Fair enough.

The day went on (un)eventfully. That is, it was eventful if you were, like me, watching some very exciting CFL playoff football. It was uneventful if you were doing anything else. We eventually went outside for some fresh air. To our delight the snow was just right for snowmen (and snowballs!). We rolled one together, Joseph named it Louie, and the kids put on their very best smiles for an impressive winter picture.

After a little more persuading (ie. threatening) they came up with this charming picture instead.

And this...

Finally it was time for supper. I, in my theological wisdom, insisted on a supper fit for a king. You know, to better celebrate the Solemnity of Christ the King. And... Becca readily dropped all she was doing to accommodate my request. Actually, we somewhat worked together on this. Two kinds of perogies, fried in onions. Lazy man's cabbage rolls. Local sausage. Light salad. And a Yellow Tail Shiraz.

Well, if not a meal for a king, we agreed it was at least a meal fit for a Polish Pope. For dessert we had some yummy lemon cake Becca whipped together earlier in the day, topped with berries and a drizzling of lemon icing. 

John Paul approved of it.

And thus ends another perfect day for the Millette family on this Solemnity of Christ the King. The multiple tantrums, blow ups at the table, fights, meltdowns outside, refusals to eat, injuries, and so on, can be for another day.

Friday Greetings

 

Friday Greetings

 

Whenever I walk around the school

I hear greetings that puzzle me so.

When someone ask “how are you?”

Do they answer the question? No!

 

Rather they say a very peculiar phrase

and simply name forth a day.

“How am I? Why don’t you know?

Today is Friday.”

 

“Friday” is an official greeting here

Or at least that’s what I gather,

you can answer any question you like

With “Friday” instead of some blabber

 

Yet Friday is not the only thing

That people here will say.

Someone once asked “how are you?”

The response: “tomorrow’s Friday.”

 

Wednesday is now is newly named

as “Friday’s in two days.”

And Monday? Just forget it now!

That’s “Friday’s too far away!”

 

Are people so unaware of what

day of the week we’re on?

Or is “Friday” simply a quirky way

to officially greet someone?

 

Perhaps they simply wish to remember,

the day Lord Jesus died?

Perhaps it is simply their special day

to eat stringed potatoes fried?

 

If all other days are nothing compared

to the end of the work week,

could it be, the time for you,

to another occupation seek?

 

Oh Friday Friday, it’s just a day

so please when we do meet,

dig down and find a new way

for the two of us to greet.

They Grow So Fast

It's important to sit back every now and then and soak up life with little children. They get old way too fast. Maybe someday I will look back at this blog and... laugh? About how clueless I was? Regardless, for the time being, in my relatively young and inexperienced time as a parent, here are some recent observations.

Children have an impeccable sense of timing. The other night Becca and I were absolutely drained and exhausted, so we went to bed shortly after 9pm. John Paul, on the other hand, decided instead to stay up for a few more hours in order to cry, scream, yell, run, and all in all cement his reputation as our second favourite son. The next night it was more of the same. Yelling. Screaming. Crying. Pushing buttons that we didn't know existed. Our only consolation was when he tipped over twice during the rosary and bumped his head. God was on our side, clearly.

Oh little children. They are a mystery. So much personality. So much energy. Everything is awesome. Everything is awful. And the next day they're always ready to do it all over again. I kind of respect that. Each and every day is a new day. I'll be at my wits end with John Paul one night, and the next morning he greets me like I'm the greatest thing in the world. Me?! A mystery indeed.

It's tough though. For instance, those family beads ain't what they used to be. Another evening of a failed rosary. John Paul kicked and cried, yelled and laughed. After two fruitless mysteries we decided to finish on our own. Now I remember we had a house cat when I was growing up named Buck (well, when I was living at home during my endless university days). Buck would only show up when we were praying the evening rosary. At first we thought he was a very holy and saintly cat. Why, he was even all black and white like a Dominican. But then we started calling him the devil instead. You see, he would come out during the rosary only to distract us. The devil indeed. We eventually ended up simply calling Buck the liberal Dominican. Now...back to John Paul... I'm not calling John Paul the devil. But... you know... the similarities... the distractions...

So we suspended the rosary. Clearly it was God's will that we didn't pray. Clearly. So we cut our losses for the time being. Immediately the boys invented a game. Joseph spread two blankets on the floor. They then ran back and forth onto each blanket, or "sleigh" as they called them, while making skiing noises. Pretty exciting. It was for them! Back and forth. Each time as equally fun as the last time. Smiles. Laughter. Why do parents take their kids to Disneyland when two blankets on the floor is just as good, if not better? After 15 minutes of non-stop running, and two very sweaty boys, we shut them down in order to put them to bed. We finished our rosaries on our own, in separate beds, next to our sweaty boys.

Yes, sometimes a family rosary becomes a lay with your kids while you put them to sleep rosary. It is a remarkable feeling lying there. Your child in your arms. The life that was so unstoppable, so energetic, just a few minutes prior. It slowly drifts into another world of sleep. And you're left finishing your last decade, with a boy who played probably two dozen or more different roles that day, yet ending the day simply as the little boy in his dad's arms. My little fireman, or knight, or fitness instructor, or hockey player, or skier, or whatever it is you were today and are now probably dreaming about. It is impossible to pray the rosary then and there without thinking about these boys. The fifth decade, Jesus dies on the cross... dying.. suffering.. our crosses... what will these boys' crosses be? Will they handle them as they should? Are we teaching them how to? Don't these roles as fireman, and knight, and so on teach them how? To overcome all challenges? To move on to the next thing? To be resilient? To enjoy life? All I know is that in the morning they will wake up and, with a smile, do it all over again. A new knight. An even better fitness coach. A new sleigh game that involves pillows, swords, weights, and hands covered in jam. It will be awesome. 

Yes it will.

A Time to Remember

I'm not sure if it is a comforting thought or not, but apparently it's not just Catholics who are by and large clueless as how to conduct a solemn event. Yesterday our school had its Remembrance Day assembly. It had some touching moments. The RCMP and Legion honour guard are always appreciated, as is the laying of the wreath. But besides that, it started to get bizarre. There was, I think 7 songs sung by the choir, with many of them being bouncy pieces of fluff with lyrics along the lines of "be the best you can be." There was a video taped dance by one of the classes. There were numerous "technical difficulties" which chopped at any flow.  There was a video of soldiers with Sarah McLachlan's I Will Remember You playing in the background. The moment of silence was more like a second of silence. And then there was clapping. Clapping after everything. Every song. Every video. Every speech. When it was near completion I silently wondered what the Legion members thought of it. Then one came up to give a few last words, and he had everyone clap all over again for every person who did anything in the ceremony. Oh.

At first I thought I must be out of touch. I'll trust the local Legion to know what is appropriate. But then I thought of the Remembrance Day ceremonies in Ottawa that I watch every year. The ceremony flows, is touching, no glitches, and above all is solemn. It always seems to me that this is the proper way to conduct such a ceremony, and that local Legions should look no further than the Ottawa ceremony for reference.

This reminds me of our Catholic liturgies. Too often the local churches truly have no clue about how to conduct a liturgy. There is lousy modern music, fluffy words, incessant clapping and even, God-forbid, liturgical dancing. Whereas if we looked to places that know how to conduct liturgy, the juxtapostion would amplify our liturgical foolishness.

Ultimately. besides those who fought, I also think of the young students in the gym yesterday. Clearly all the teachers had read the riot act to them before the assembly. Their behaviour was commendable. But ultimately they didn't know how to react to what was going on around them. They were told to be quiet and respectful, but were conveyed mixed messages by the actual ceremony. They need to understand that there is a time to weep, a time to laugh, a time to mourn, and a time to dance.

Once again, I'm somewhat comforted that it's not only Catholics who cannot, for a relatively short amount of time, conduct a solemn and reverent event. I'm comforted and also disheartened. Nevertheless, we will remember them. They will not grow old, as we grow old. We have been given a time to laugh, a time to dance, precisely because of the time of mourning, the time of weeping. May we never forget this.

May we never forget them.

Why I prefer the Extraordinary Form of the Mass

A Mass is a Mass is a Mass? Although the Mass is the one true sacrifice of Christ, ultimately how it is celebrated is of great importance to us. We use our senses to soak in what is around us. If what we see, smell, and taste is like bacon, well, that's probably what it is. If it looks, smells, and feels like a pig with lipstick, that's probably what it is. A Mass is a Mass is a Mass is somewhat like saying a car is a car is a car. Sure a k-car and a ferrari are both intended to get you to your destination, but there is a significant difference in how quickly and effectively each one will.

With this in mind, I must confess that I prefer attending the Extraordinary Form of the Mass (EF) over the Novus Ordo Mass (NO.. and I don't mean "NO" as if to put it down... far from it! It's simply just the initials for Novus Ordo). Becca and I wish we lived closer to Saskatoon, thus making it easier for us to attend on a regular basis.Here are my main reasons why for prefering the EF:

1 - Latin

2 - Music

3 - Not the "Look at Me!" show

4 - No (or very few) liturgical abuses

5 - Communion Rail

6 - Altar boys

7 - Ad Orientem and more beautiful in general, such as with vestments, high altars, etc.

8 - The prayers

9 - The priestly actions are more controlled.

10 - More continuity with the Church's organically developed practice.

"But wait!" you say. "Many of these things are sometimes in the Novus Ordo Mass!" Correction. These things are/should-always-be in the Novus Ordo Mass. Let's take a look at my list again.

1 - Latin
Sacrosanctum Concilium (Vatican II document) permitted the vernacular. However, the language of the Church, and the Mass, is still Latin. This is why I refuse to simply call the EF rite the Latin Mass. The EF rite and the Novus Ordo rite are both intended to be in Latin. In fact, the recent Novus Ordo General Instruction of the Roman Missal tells us that, at the very very least, we should all be singing the parts of the Mass in Latin.

"Since the faithful from different countries come together ever more frequently, it is desirable that they know how to sing together at least some parts of the Ordinary of the Mass in Latin, especially the Profession of Faith and the Lord’s Prayer, according to the simpler settings.[cf. SC 54, Inter Oecumenici 59, Musicam Sacram 47]"(GIRM 41).

Latin is profound. Even if you don't understand it, a certain Ratzinger used to say that even this is a symbol of the fact that a heavenly language is needed to proclaim the praise and mystery of the Mass. Isn't it ironic that liberals in the Church freak out over people not standing together at communion, "for the sake of unity," yet scoff at a universal language of prayer.

2 - Music
The vast vast majority of Novus Ordo Masses have music that makes you want to stab your ears with pencils until they are rendered incapable of ever hearing another Dan Schutte-me-now narcissistic folk sing song again. On the other hand, at the EF Mass we attend great care is taken to providing beautifully chanted Mass parts (note: not added on songs) that actually sing praise to God, not man. But the Church has always taught that Gregorian chant is the measuring stick for sacred music. Again, GIRM 41 says:

"The main place should be given, all things being equal, to Gregorian chant, as being proper to the Roman Liturgy. Other kinds of sacred music, in particular polyphony, are in no way excluded, provided that they correspond to the spirit of the liturgical action and that they foster the participation of all the faithful.[cf. SC 116, also SC 30]."

Sacred music is the greatest of artistic treasures in the Church. It is not just for the EF but for all liturgies.

3 - Not the "Look at Me!" show
4 - No (or very few) liturgical abuses
Let's group 3 and 4 together. Wouldn't it be odd for a priest at the EF Mass to start changing the words of the Mass, and start rambling off in Latin about praying for Aunt Betsy's pet llama and how good it is to see so many youth at Mass and that we must truly care for mother earth because this is the greatest cause of Christianity this day. Heck, it would be weird to hear a Latin "good morning!" immediately following the opening sign of the cross. It's just... out of place. Once again, though, this holds true for both the NO and EF.

5 - Communion Rail
I love the communion rail. So practical. So reverent. Even the "scrum" leading up to communion is great. There are no ushers. This means that those who do not think they are prepared to receive communion are not pressured to receiving. I mean, really? Everyone goes to communion in the NO liturgy. Everyone is in a state of grace? Once again, though, communion rails can be for both the EF and NO.

6 - Altar boys
Again, even in the NO priests have the right to have only a male sanctuary. Altar boys go beyond the immediate Mass. There is the idea that they are also experiencing a closeness to Mass which helps in the discernment process.

7 - Ad Orientem and more beautiful in general, such as with vestments, high altars, etc.
This is a significant point. I firmly believe, for strong theological reasons, all Masses should be said ad orientem. The Mass is primarily a sacrifice, with the priest offering the needs of the people, and himself, on the altar (Ratzinger, Feast of Faith). Also, it is a sign of the missionary Church seeking the promised land (Exodus). Going along with ad orientem worship is beautiful high altars, and a greater care for beautiful vestments and such. But you get the point here. Such things should also be seen in Novus Ordo Masses. In fact, ad orientem, as I understand it, is still the primary way to say Mass in the NO. Thankfully Cardinal Robert Sarah, head of the Congregation for Divine Worship, is working on this. (Note: I'm currently reading the new book about him... wow! What a saint!)

8 - The prayers
I remember in university when I started going to the EF Mass in Saskatoon. I was blown away with how profound the prayers were, to the point of reading through the little red manual while eating breakfast each morning. Unfortunately many of the NO prayers were hastily made up, or very poorly translated. Furthermore, what's with all the option for the Eucharistic Prayers? Originally the sixties liturgists argued that they were trying to act in the name of an alleged Hippolytus text. This reasoning has since been disproved. All in all, I hold that the prayers in the EF Mass are more profound and beautiful. Note: am not saying that the NO prayers are not profound and beautiful!

9 - The priestly actions are more controlled
The actions of the priest in the EF Mass fill me with awe. Signs of the crosses here, genuflections there. A deep bow here. This word spoken aloud, then back to a whispered voice. The priest is a slave to what is going on. I hear stories about priests who, once they learn to say the EF, are impacted deeply, and feel they, for the first time, understand how to say the Mass.
Once again, though it may be difficult, the mentality of the priest as a slave to the liturgy is certainly possible in the NO.

10 - More continuity with the Church's organically developed practice
Look, I've read Vatican II many times. Certain documents of it I've read easily over fifty times. I have literally written hundreds of pages on Vatican II, including summaries for each and every document. Whenever someone tries to interpret Vatican II to me, I always wait to see if they mention another document: Mediator Dei by Pius XII. The long and short of it is, Vatican II can not, shall not, will not be read faithfully unless it is read in light of Mediator Dei. Withouth Mediator Dei, Vatican II becomes what we now experience it to be. With Mediator Dei and its teaching on Church continuity, Vatican II becomes what it is supposed to be. In other words, All these reasons why I prefer the EF mass over the NO mass can all be solved if Vatican II is read in light of Mediator Dei. Let me put it this way. The most beautiful, prayerful, and wonderful mass I ever intended was... a Novus Ordo Mass. It was a Latin Novus Ordo mass at St. Patrick's in Montreal. Everything that I have mentioned above was done properly, in light of the Church's organic development, as taught in Mediator Dei. It was a Mass I will never forget. I long for such a Mass.

So a Mass is a Mass is a Mass? When following the full teaching of the Church, it's possible. But then, all things are possible when we follow the full teaching of the Church. What an extraordinary thought.