It's been a very hot week around here. I filled up the pool outside, let the water warm in the sun, and the boys played in it for three days. This morning it was a little slimy, but they jumped in anyway and then we dumped it after lunch.

Joseph pulled out some water-wings that made it into our house with some rummage sale box and has been enjoying wearing them (in the 6 inches of water in our tiny pool). Normally, the lifeguard in me would never allow my kids to wear water-wings, but in this case they've done no harm other than obstruct Joseph's ability to eat food easily -- which is actually kind of funny to watch. He insists on wearing his goggles on walks around the neighborhood or with his bike helmet while he's riding in the stroller, so actually wearing them in the pool was a pretty incredible idea -- except that he's too nervous to put them to use under the water. I'm getting desperate for Dan's holidays to begin so I can give him some real swimming lessons.

Incredibly, there are no mosquitoes to speak of -- only, there must have been one because John Paul has a massive red bump on his elbow -- so we have been picnicking in the backyard almost every day for lunch. We do, however, have a lot of ants running around so we have to watch out for them getting into our food (or maybe the boys are dropping food all over for the ants?).

Conversation snippet from lunch...

Joseph: "Get away, bee!"

Me: "That's an ant! Remember?"

Joseph: "Get away, bee!"

Apparently not.

At 15 months now, John Paul is a little boy. I'm almost nostalgic when I look at him and marvel at how he's grown and doesn't really look or sound like a baby anymore. I say almost because he still sleeps with me and wakes up more to nurse during the night than he nurses during the day (oh, this parenting trap I've fallen into).

In addition to cutting his first molar this week, he has also fallen flat on his face multiple times (check out the slight bruise in a picture below). He spends a bunch of his waking hours screaming at his brother because Joseph did something to him or screaming at me because Joseph won't let him do something. I am trying, without any apparent success, to teach him that we just don't accept screaming in our house.  

 

Joseph, meanwhile, is apparently a man.

Conversation snippets...

Checking out his arms: "Look, I'm growing MAN-hair."

Showing off his swim shirt: "Look at my muscle shirt... and my muscles."

Stripping down his shorts on the front lawn: "I have to go pee. I don't need any help, I can pee standing up now."

Stripping off all his clothes in the backyard: "Look, I'm going to be naked like John Paul" (who ran away in a diaper while I was putting on his bathing suit). 

We've all been waking up far too bright and early the last few days. We blame the morning light. Despite so-called blackout curtains, our room remains pretty bright in the morning. Dan has been waking at 4:30, me at 5:45, and Joseph at 6:00, while John Paul is the smartest one and sleeps until 7:00. Needless to say, we're all tired by lunch and ready for naps (which only some take).

We just smile and laugh at mealtimes as our kids fall apart and into tears over anything and everything. Joseph cried because he wanted lunch and we told him it was supper; John Paul fell apart because he wanted cucumber instead of ground beef and because I tried to feed him when he wanted to feed himself (even though he handed me the bowl and spoon). Parenting is the best!

And speaking of naps... I think I need to go take one before the nappers wake up.

Liking the Classics, Naturally

I'm all for teaching the classics at school. In a world where the newest and latest thing is given priority, the classics speak for themselves. There's a reason why my grade five students loved the classic novel study on "Where the Red Fern Grows" versus the newer "Mystery of the Turtle Lake Monster" novel study. One story speaks to themes of hard work, death, blame, success, sorrow, and change. The other speaks to themes of (SPOILER ALERT) submarine monsters in a local lake, kids with nothing to do all summer, and dishonesty being rewarded. Sadly I wonder whether or not our education system sees the value in the classics. There are 30 copies of one of these books in our school library. There are two of the other. Guess which one has only two? You guessed it. The "Where the Red Fern Grows" novel study became a read aloud by Old Dan, er, Mr. Millette.

But enjoying classic work does not stop with literature. Music, of course, is important. Kids listen to the latest music because it's the cool and hip thing to do. Introduce them to some Collective Soul, Beatles, or even Gustav Holst, and they are genuinely impressed. Kids seek the latest style and trend. Yet they are more deeply satisfied when shown deeper and more meaningful work. Work that can carry over beyond a few months.

Today before playing baseball in phys. ed. I sat my class down to watch Abbot and Costello's "Who's on First?" skit. At first many of the students were genuinely lost. How could somebody be named Who? Or What? I don't know... (third base!). Yet this confusion soon switched to utter amazement. It was as if they never encountered anything so brilliant in all their lives. So simple, yet so brilliant. When the video clip shut off they were excitedly repeating lines from the skit. "I throw the ball to who?" "Naturally!" "I throw the ball to Naturally?" "No, who." "Naturally." "That's right." This carried on as we went outside to play baseball. They had a great time throwing the ball to who, or what, or I don't know. It was all so, so, classic.

I'm sure they went home and carried on with their regular soaking up of the latest buzz. I'm very negative like that. Yet, deep down, I hope they remember that certain classics are just that: classic. I hope they do. Who knows if they will?

Naturally.

Naturally knows?

No, who.

Naturally...

Leftover Pictures

I was just clearing off some pictures I have on my work ipad. Evidently not all the pictures on it are work related. Here are a few before I delete them.

 

 

Not always butterflies and rainbows in our house. Here Joseph is upset over something really important, probably.

 

 

 Who's this? Why it's Smokey the Fireman from Richard Scarry's books! Check out the light on the helmet. Ingenious how he connected the two using a toy farm fence.

 

 

Getting ready for Mass on Sunday morning. I threw a cowboy hat on the boy. Unfortunately he wouldn't stop moving, so the picture is a little blurry.

 

  

John Paul doing his new favourite thing: reading. It was hard to get his attention in order to look at the ipad. Even though it was probably the 10th time in a row he was reading that book.

 

 

Joseph, not to be outdone, wanted to show a picture of this spoon. Behold how majestic it is. If you look closely, you can see my reflection in the spoon. Is the reflection upside down? 

 

 

Finally, another blurry shot. These two boys have been going around in their helmets lately. They take out Tupperware, use it/slobber on it, and then put it back. I don't think it ever gets washed. Want to come over for leftovers?

Celebration for Who?

It's that time of year again.

The annual celebration of something. What that something is, nobody really knows. All they know is that it's darn important. Pull out the hairbrushes. Dust off the gowns. Heck, even floss the teeth. Everyone get dressed up. We need to celebrate.

Get all the participants organized. Line them up and read to them their directions... because they can't read them for themselves. But boy have they learned a lot! Pump their tires! Make sure you take lots of pictures for grandma. Oh wait, she's here because she wouldn't miss it for the world. Post it on facebook, as it unfolds. Why is this day different from every other day? Because this is the day your child graduates...

...from kindergarten.

It is a very fragile and insecure world that needs to create a kindergarten graduation. We just need to "celebrate" everything. Why stop at kindergarten? Grade one? Surely they accomplish more than the kindergartners. Grade 5? What about making it halfway through grade 10? Why, even funerals are now called a "Celebration of Life." The only problem about kindergarten graduation is that, since everyone passes anyway, we're not celebrating any real accomplishment. They went to school every second day? Wow! Here's a cookie. They learned numbers and letters? Wow! Here are two cookies! Count them for yourself, if you can! They learned how to walk in the hallways, most of the time, with a hand-on-the-hip-finger-on-the-lip-zip-zip? Good. But that was expected. Such things are the bare minimum.

You must realize, though, that I don't really even think high school graduations are all that special. Well, they are to the student who has to work his butt off to pass, and then will probably go on to do something unrelated from school. Yet for those who are moving on to university, graduation is just a stepping stone. It is more of an acknowledgement that life is about to change. Less celebration. More a reflection on change. And a party.

So why do we have kindergarten graduations? In the end, I wonder if there is some guilt involved with kindergarten graduation. The vast majority of families have either two working parents, or only one parent around, and so the child gets dropped off at school, taken to daycare afterwards, and then picked up later. In some situations this is necessary in order to make ends meet. In other situations, as Becca and I frequently discuss, it is rather unnecessary. It is done more for the sake of having two fancy vehicles, a cabin at the lake, and a yearly trip to Mexico. In short, I notice many parents are not actually involved in their child's education. Oh they care about what was said about their child on the playground, or how many hotdog days there will be, but the nuts and bolts of the curriculum, and the actual progress of their child... not so much. It is a drop them off, pick them up, kind of education. Deep down I think they want to be more involved, but don't have the time or energy, or don't even know how to be more involved. So herein lies the graduation. Take an hour off of work, come down and cheer on your child! I'm here for you! Great work!... I'll pick you up at daycare at 5pm...

Clearly this does not apply to all parents. And I could be wrong through and through anyway. But still I wonder...

who is kindergarten graduation really for?

Our Week, Brought to You in By the Letter S: Sick, Strong, Smash

A few weeks ago, when students at the school, staff, and friends of ours were getting sick I was... patting myself on the back that we hadn't really been sick much this winter. {Word from the wise: NEVER pat yourself on the back!}

Poor Joseph has been down for the count all week. Thankfully, he's been the only one, but it hasn't been much fun for him. Just when we thought he was better, he was sick to his stomach again. And then again. It's slightly weird to have him laying around much of the day and taking impromptu naps when he pleases. We'll be happy when he's feeling himself again.

Yet, despite throwing up all over himself and his bed one night, and then all over me and the hallway the next, he has insisted all week that he doesn't get sick. "Do you feel sick? Does your belly hurt?" we ask. "I never get sick!" he has emphatically stated. All week long. Dan finally explained to him that a belly ache and puking meant he was sick. But even still, he's insistent that he just doesn't get sick. It's kind of comical.

Even while sick this week, Joseph is gearing up for the exciting events of the summer - smashing the bathroom! Dan has been counting down the days until school ends and asking Joseph what they're going to do after he's done. "Smash!" is always the reply. Our little renovators are excited to get to work (Daddy is a little less enthusiastic).

Dan was telling Joseph the other day that he would need to wear a mask to help in the bathroom. "Yeah, I could wear a tiger mask, maybe!"



John Paul, meanwhile, is busy, busy busy. He is constantly on the move and constantly hungry. He always wants books read to him and will not take no for an answer. He's also teething (but that seems to have laid off a little lately - to give Mommy a break!) and chatty, chatty all the time.

Just this week, we suddenly realized that John Paul understands English. I know that sounds ridiculous, but there comes an age when kids just start understanding what you say... and he's reached it! We can tell him to go get something or go do something specific and he knows what we're talking about, so long as it's simple and easy.

He is also able to express himself more and more each day. We taught him sign language for "more" and "please" so he has been able to tell us that (usually when we ask or tell him to) for some time now. But recently, he has begun signing and saying "mo, mo" or "mee" when he asks for things. Other words and sounds are beginning to take shape too, his own little sounds for hat, book, snack.

Goofy as ever (following in Joseph's young footsteps), John Paul goes around trying to make everyone laugh. He growls or makes funny noises and laughs at his own joke. Whenever he's in the bathroom, he pats the toilet cover and says, "Poop" (no one taught him this... he is just that smart. Haha). It's so exciting to watch this little boy grow into his own little person.

Storytime

Joseph is getting older and wiser.

Slowly.

Every night after our routine of jammies, teeth, story and prayers, he asks me to tell him a "Billy the Horse story." Billy the Horse is a character I made up many many years ago, and I tell stories about Billy and his adventures. For Joseph I usually keep the stories simple, and I try to relate them to his day or what interests him.

Tonight's story involved Billy being sick (Joseph is sick right now, and not eating much). Now Billy was so sick that he couldn't eat any normal food. Not eating made him so weak that he was unable to chase down the bad kids who were throwing rocks at people. Well, Billy the Horse went to his mom, and his mom made him some nice soup. Now because of the soup, Billy was strong enough to chase down the bad kids. He soon caught up to them and dragged them to jail. Everyone in the town cheered, and there was a parade, but not just for Billy. They also had a parade for his mom... because without her making the soup, the bad kids wouldn't be in jail.

Then Joseph gave a satisfied sigh, as he so often does, and curled up in my arms to fall asleep. I lay there with him for quite some time, wondering at the innocence and peace of this little boy. And then, many minutes later, through the stillness of the night, I hear:

"Hey!!! Horses can't make soup!!!"

Older and wiser.

Slowly.

Pass the Book, Please.

Becca, when she's not hitting up the ole bottle (refer to previous post), is usually being chased around by John Paul. Apparently he's getting in some molars. I don't believe it, of course. I don't remember crying that much when I got molars. So why should he? Kids are sneaky little fakers. Nevertheless, he really "needs" his mommy. Or he did.

There is one sure fire solution to not having Becca chased around the house like a mosquito in a tent. That is, I read John Paul a Sandra Boynton book. More specifically, I have John Paul come up on me shouting: "Booooooook!" I read him: "Oh My Oh My Oh Dinosaurs." Then have him jump down, turn around and start crying, before I ask if he wants to read. And repeat.



And repeat.

 

And repeat.

And repeat.

Yesterday I read him the book at least 15 times. So what? We were away from 10:00am to 8:00pm! Oh, and I read him a few other books as well during that time. But never two others, back to back. I swear it was nonstop. Oh My Oh My John Paul! Pass the alcohol, Becca.

Seriously though, I'm super happy John Paul loves reading so much. Studies show that people who read are a lot smarter than people who don't. I think I read that somewhere. You didn't? Maybe you should read more, then you'd be smart enough to know that. Either way, if anyone ever wants to stop by our house to read some books.... I would be happy to have you over...

I might even serve you a cold beverage from the fridge.

 photo taken by Joseph Millette Photography

 If there's any left.

Pass the Alcohol, Please

You know, parenting is tough. You knew that already?! Oh. Well, it's true. It's an insanely difficult vocation that also happens to be so rewarding. I'm talking about when the kids are finally quiet and sleeping in their beds and you look down at them and marvel at how they've grown and how wonderful they are - while they sleep!

I was reading something from St Josemaria Escriva last night: 

Look, even humanly speaking it is good not to find 

it all done for you, with no hitches. Something -- a lot! -- depends

on you. Otherwise, how could you become a saint?

Yes! If it wasn't a challenge, if life was just easy-peasy -- then where would be the room to grow and change and be moulded into the person God wants me to be? Saints didn't just get born that way (except, of course, our Blessed Mother). 

Alas, I'm far from sainthood. But, as Dan told me matter-of-factly last night when I recounted to him how badly I'd done the whole day: "Well, just say your Act of Contrition and then do better tomorrow." Thank God we can pick ourselves up off the floor and get back in the game.

..........................................................................................

John Paul is teething. Does that explain things?! I know now that he actually is teething because I felt the giant molar underneath his gum last night at 10:30pm when he was crying for 2 hours. Before that, I would periodically tell myself (and happily be convinced of it) that he was teething to make an excuse for him (and my own impatience). 

We're all pretty worn out and tired, too. It's the end of the school year and Dan's been fighting a bug for a couple weeks now, too busy to take much time to recover. The rest of us? Well, maybe we're just pity-partying with him. The boys have colds and runny, runny noses; we're all just not getting enough sleep (or maybe that's just me projecting). 

...............................................................................................

We're surviving. But not exactly thriving. I was thinking this -- or maybe saying this to Dan, I forget which. I feel like we've been surviving for a really long time (John Paul, it's all your fault! Joking.). I want to do more than survive. I want to thrive. But I'm beginning to think that maybe my ideas of thriving aren't the ways and makings of becoming a saint. Because, in my mind, thriving somehow means having everything running smoothly with no hiccups and peachy-perfect lives. That all seems very nice, but is that reality?

I've read and received a few pieces of really good advice: 1) having all little kids is really hard and 2) if something is really difficult right now or bothers you a lot (where kids are concerned), just wait a few weeks and it will be different. Another piece of advice I learned the hard way, is never automatically pat yourself on the back if something is really going well with your baby/child. It might be you, or you might be very blessed right now and it might change later. In other words, it's probably not that I'm such a wonderful parent.

All this to say: it's not going to be easy all the time, or even most of the time. When it's hard, when I think I'm just surviving, well, I must survive as best I can. Raising kids is hard, hard work. If it were easy there'd be something wrong. If any vocation were easy, there'd be something wrong. We're told, "Take up your cross and follow me" not, "Take up your pleasantly cool alcoholic beverage and relax in the sun."

Get discouraged, I must not. Carry on, I must. And I might just enjoy a little cool alcoholic beverage this weekend and relax in the sun... so I'm prepared to take on next week's challenge.

Theology of the Felt

There is a fine young priest who lives not too far away from us who, it seems, has dedicated much of his time to undoing the "spirit of Vatican II." Recently he has helped renovate one of his rural churches. This has been accentuated by bringing in a beautiful restored tabernacle (thanks to certain people in the Humboldt area). However, as wonderful and hopeful as it is to hear such stories, we should also remember that the battle is far from over. Take a look:

One of these things is not like the other. Did you find it?

Of course! We're referring to the banner. I can just envision some 70 year old+ wannabe-liturgist hauling out the old Luther-inspired banner, muttering something about "young whipper snapper priests and their nostalgic pre-Vatican II-ness... There! At least people will now know who's table this is! Oh shoot! I forgot the R! There, a little more hot glue and we're good..." It isn't a table. It's an altar. An altar for a sacrifice. A real sacrifice. An altar where the crucified Lord, unchained by time, is offered for our salvation. I guess there wasn't enough felt available for a banner like that.

All of this talk ultimately leads to one important question: Why felt banners?

 

 

I actually really don't get it. Someone help me out here. I get the symbolism from the word "felt" and that we should "feel" the spirit... dude. I dig that. Sort of like: "I felt so good as I played the mic'd up tambourine to Foley's One Bread, One Body." I understand it. I'm down with it. I feel it. But is there another reason?

 

Maybe the smoothness of felt is to represent how our lives on earth should go smoothly too? Perhaps something like: "there are no bumps on felt, because God wants us to all be together, with no problems. Felt represents perfect harmony."

 

Yet I can't help but think it must be deeper. Ope! Pshh. Of course! The felt represents table cloth! The Mass is about all of us sitting around the Lod's, sorry, Lord's table! Fellowship! Feasting! Felt! We are one in the spirit!

Not to diminish the meal aspect of the Mass, for there certainly a festive aspect (explained best by Ratzinger in "The Feast of Faith."). But there is so much more to it.

 

 

Meanwhile, there's still something about that picture which calls to me. My heart is being spoken to by that mysterious and awe-inspiring white box next to the banner. I know it shouldn't be taking my attention away from the felt candle and felt host, but it does. The architecture of it points higher, as if it naturally, or supernaturally, lifts my soul to reflect on higher things. The gold coloured trim appears so royal, so Divine. The tent like design reminds me of the tents in Exodus: the pilgrim Church. The tent housing the holy of holies. The tent offered by Peter at the transfiguration. Yet the tent in the picture has a temple-like quality as well. The firm promise that we will worship someday in a heavenly place. And there is, directly above all this, a cross. No, not a cross, a crucifix. One with the figure of the crucified Lord. Not so smooth, is it?  And it all calls to me. The altar, to the tabernacle, to the crucifix. A real and perfect harmony indeed. No labels needed. Leave the mystery as it is, to be revealed to those who contemplate it. This is not simply the Lord's Table. This is the Lord's house. A house of prayer. And he is present.

 

Whether you've felt it or not.

 

A Walker to Remember

Here's something I never thought I would say: Far too many people I know have been murdered this past year.

Today is the anniversary of the death of Fr. Kenneth (Kenny) Walker. Please pray for his soul. I wrote about him last year (just click here).

At various points this past year I've stopped and reflected on the life of Fr. Kenny. What perhaps strikes me most is just how his life and story has spread. Catholics are desperate to hear the stories of holy people. It's as if we still need to know that holiness is, maybe just maybe, attainable for everyday folks. And Fr. Kenny was an everyday folk who lived a holy, yet far too short, life.

Did you know that Kenny once gave me a hyperextended knee? He, like many of us, got a little too intense when playing sports. We were battling hard for a ball in soccer, and I could start to hear almost a frustrated growling sound come from him as we battled. Eventually he tripped me up, rather aggressively actually, causing me to be injured. I know what you're thinking: "You probably deserved it!" Who, me? I'm innocent, of course. Well, injuries happen. We do things we shouldn't do. We're just everyday folk.

And yet Kenny was both an everyday folk, and anything but an everyday folk.  He apologized for what happened with the soccer injury. Yet he went beyond that. From that moment onward whenever we played sports I could tell he truly was trying to keep his intensity in check. Did he always? No. But you could sense the effort. It was as if he tried desperately to learn from what happened earlier. As if he was trying desperately to please his Beloved.

Is this holiness? I don't know for certain, I'm not holy. But I think it is. It seems to be the path one would take if one were to become holy. To constantly strive to be better. To seek perfection. Kenny did that. And this is attractive to us Catholics. Therefore, the life of Kenny is one that will not soon be forgotten.

To think, I, or rather my knee, helped play some small part in this.

 Requiescat in pace, Fr. Kenneth Walker

You won't soon be forgotten.

 

Lib Fibs

A couple of years ago I had the pleasure of being verbally attacked by a liberal Catholic after Mass while I was praying. You see, my sister and I ran the choir that Sunday and we did the most unspeakable and disgusting crime imaginable: we sang some of the Mass parts in Latin. Latin! Why, we sooner should have been doing a pagan dance and that would have been more acceptable. Thankfully this liberal Catholic took it upon himself to interrupt me while I was praying to let me know that Latin was not allowed at Mass. "Oh?" I briefly explained that the Church, and even Vatican II (I have literally written hundreds of pages on Vatican II) has always cherished Latin. Nope. I was further told that the Bishop had written on this, and that I was directly disobeying the Bishop by singing Latin. Anyway, after a few choice words back and forth, right in the church, the man's final parting words were: "Your mom's a bully!"

Et cum spiritu tuo, buddy.

Sometimes it is frustrating to follow the proper process in the Church. It takes soooo long for anything to get done! But this is a good thing I suppose. It teaches patience and humility. I just wish patience and humility didn't take so long to learn. Anyway, I wrote to the bishop following this episode in church, but received no reply. I suspect his secretary got in the way. So then I wrote to the Papal Nuncio. The Papal Nuncio emailed me promptly, wrote me an official letter, and even copied the official letter and sent it to the Bishop. The Papal Nuncio, of course, agreed with me that Latin is not at all forbidden, but then more or less told the Bishop to meet with me to sort everything out. The Bishop's secretary promptly contacted me and arranged a time that I could meet the Bishop.

So I booked some time from work, drove an hour and a half, all to have a chat with the Bishop (this is months later, by now). When with the Bishop he told me he was shocked to hear that some man had yelled at me in church, and that not only is Latin allowed, but that he in fact loves Latin. The Bishop concluded by saying he was very upset that someone had lied about him.

Upon this news I then went and confronted the man who yelled at me. He sidestepped this and told me another priest, high up in the diocese, had actually made the document.

Well, months later this priest came to say Mass, and lo and behold our choir was singing. So... there's only one way to find out, we sang some Latin, just for this priest. His response? He gushed over how beautiful it was, and that we should be recorded.

So many lies. It really is shocking to me how people can lie about bishops and priests in order to try and get what they want. Yet we see it even with the Pope! Consider Cardinal Kasper. He has been going around for a couple of decades now trying to get divorced (not annulled) then civilly remarried people (adultery) to be able to receive Holy Communion. It just can't work. But Kasper has pulled the "Pope agrees with me" line. This is nothing short of shocking.

Well Raymond Arroyo of EWTN, Mr. Perfect, apparently has interviewed Kasper recently and was able to rat out the truth!

Taken straight from Fr. Z's blog here.

ARROYO: But you do understand, when a Churchman like yourself, a theologian, an esteemed international figure, a Curial official says: “Here is my proposal, and the Pope agrees with me” that does cause some …
CARDINAL KASPER: Well, this I did not say.

ARROYO: Well you did say, and the quote is: “Clearly this is what he wants,”and the Pope has approved of my proposal. Those were the quotes from the time …
CARDINAL KASPER: No … he did not approve my proposal. The Pope wanted that I put the question [forward], and, afterwards, in a general way, before all the cardinals, he expressed his satisfaction with my talk. But not the end, not in the … I wouldn’t say he approved the proposal, no, no, no. [Okay.  The Pope did not approve it.]

That only took about two years...

Can I just state the obvious? Lying is intrinsically evil. Lying by making up stories about priests, bishops, or the Pope, is very very serious. People who tell such lies should no longer enjoy a position of trust.

But of course they do. Yet I say no more to these lies. The truth will set us free.

Or better yet: "veritas vos liberabit."

Those Inspiring Millettes

Since our priest is away in Vietnam, Becca and I got the boys up early Sunday and made the drive to Saskatoon in order to attend the Traditional Latin Mass (TLM). We hit construction on the way, and so didn't end up getting into the church until five or ten minutes after nine. However, thankfully Mass hadn't started yet. Mass finally went on as usual, but then came the homily. Fr. Andrew spoke some things, and then brought up the topic of Corpus Christi attendance. You see, the TLM calendar still has Corpus Christi on the Thursday following the octave of Pentecost (another octave axed at the time of the Council). For the first time in three years Father Andrew had to rip his beloved parish a little. Fr. carefully, but also sternly, let his parishioners know that he was not pleased with the attendance on Thursday. He also explained that the first Friday attendance was nothing special either. As to why Mass started late? Fr. decided to sit in the confessional an extra ten minutes and then start Mass late, just to send a little message that we need to do better.

This was the first time in my life I ever heard a priest speak out about attendance at Mass during the week. I absolutely loved it! Why? Because it was a shot at something we so easily fall into: being complacent. Now what he said wasn't meant for those who were unable to attend Corpus Christi, but it still served as a very useful reminder about being complacent. Now Scripture is very clear on the subject:

"I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth. You say, ‘I am rich; I have acquired wealth and do not need a thing.’ But you do not realize that you are wretched, pitiful, poor, blind and naked" (Rev. 3:15-17).

So, um, that's pretty clear I would say. It is a problem Becca and I struggle with living in Tisdale. You see, we do not have Mass everyday here. Only select days at 9am. So we attend Mass whenever possible (mainly Becca and the boys, since I'm at work then... holiness is for the retired, afterall...). People praise us for this. Most families here, yes most, do not attend Mass at all let alone during the week. "Oh what inspirations you guys are!" I've heard people say to us.

Us? The truth is that to believe such a thing would mean we are, at best, lukewarm. Sort of like saying: "I'm proud of my humility." No, true holiness is based on true love. And true love must always seek to please the beloved. So Sorry, these Millettes here are no inspiration. Maybe the ones over in Humboldt, but not the Tisdale ones. Why, we can barely make it though evening prayer without yelling at our kids (and that's a fact). We're just a family that more or less tries its best, but truly needs a kick the butt from time to time. Don't we all?

Thank you Fr. Andrew. Consider our butts kicked.

 

Album Review - Wilder Mind

Early last month Mumford and Sons (M&S) released their third studio album titled: "Wilder Mind." Now M&S is well known for their banjo picking folk rocks songs. Their hits include the well over-played I Will Wait. For this recent album they ditched the banjo, double bass, and acoustic guitar. In other words, they become more main stream.

Let's just start with a basic fact, "Wilder Mind" is their worst album to date. This shouldn't be too big of a surprise considering that their first two were excellent, and it would be hard to replicate the prior success. Yet I can see myself skipping over a few songs. The Wolf, Wilder Mind, and even Ditmas are all forgettable. Monster has promise, but let's just call it their bad word song. Every album of theirs has a song with a certain bad word, and this time it is Monster. So scratch it off. Nevertheless, despite the filler songs, we are left with some good music.

"Wilder Mind" has an urban feel to it. The good old boys from the country are smack dab in the heart of the city. Songs such as Tompkin Square Park and Broad Shouldered Beast place us in the heart and excitement of the city, filled with all its pleasures and promises. Yet though surrounded by people, this album is one of loneliness. Almost to the point of being a break up album. In Only Love Mumford cries out: "And you saw me low, alone again. Didn't they say that only love will win in the end?" Lonely. Alone. Not much hope. This isn't a revolutionary concept. Been there, done that. They treat the concept well. But it's nothing revolutionary.

All in all, I actually don't mind their new sound. The problem is that though they provide some good music, it sounds too similar to other bands. Broad Shouldered Beast has a rise and fall pace similar to Collective Soul's Understanding. Only Love builds ala Coldplay's Fix You. Coldplay gets ripped off again with Hot Gates, which is the exact tune as Up in Flames. Even Joseph, when he first heard the song, exclaimed: "Hey! I know that song!" Nope. Just a copycat. Look, it's hard to be creative. It's not always possible. The problem is Mumford and Sons went from a creative band to a copycat band in this album. And the fact is that Collective Soul and Coldplay are better at what they do anyway.

There is enough raw talent in Mumford and Sons to pull off such a switch. They still produced some good to great music. Nevertheless, what I really mourn is the loss of poetry. Remember lines such as this?

Love; it will not betray you
Dismay or enslave you, it will set you free
Be more like the man you were made to be

 

Now we are left with:

I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
Everything you're trying to say to me

 

I don't even know if I believe... that they are now a pop band. It's still hard to believe. Bring back the banjo!

Overall: a generous 3/5 Stars



I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I believe
I don't even know if I wanna believe
Everything you're trying to say to me
 

Snippets: May Recap

Before May is too far behind us, I wanted to do a quick recap with pictures...

1. I bought a Mr Potato Head at a garage sale while my parents were visiting and tucked it away to handle the boys' withdrawal symptoms when they left. Approximately 20 min after Dan pulled out of the driveway with them for the airport, I was pulling it out... It's a hit!

2. We spent Sunday of the long-weekend with most of the other Millettes at Grandpa and Grandma's house. Baseball was the game of the day. The kids were delighted with the idea, but needed some coaching to get the hang of how to bat and when/where to run! They enjoyed taunting Grandpa from first base, "Pitcher's got a big butt!" and laughing when someone nearly hit Rio (the horse).

3. The kids eventually got a little tired of waiting in out-field or at the bases and wandered off to do their own thing. We're starting to see the beginnings of what these Millette grandkids will be like as they grow older, though, and I predict family gatherings are going to be a whole lot of (more) fun!

4. Speaking of fun... Dan's school just put in two huge new playground equipment pieces. Joseph wants to go everyday. John Paul likes hanging out too, but always realizes we're at Daddy's school and wants to go get Daddy away from his after-school work whenever we're there. 

5. Last summer we put a lot of work into our backyard and we're able to enjoy it now. We put in a little garden and have been rewarded with little lettuce and spinach coming up. We added some large planters with flowers. And we finally have grass growing (it's only taken more than a month and a few seedings!) in our bare spots left over from last summer. We still have some work to do, but it's nice to see it coming along. 

Joseph and John Paul love all the planting and watering. When we're not looking they are both more than happy to get into a little trouble too. John Paul pretends to have great interested in looking at the little plants coming up in the garden, but his admiring "Ohhh, ohhhs" quickly turn to trampling and trying to pick if we turn our backs. We've repeatedly told Joseph not to turn on the tap without asking, but he easily "forgets" and makes excuses for filling his water gun or watering the grass.