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.

Balancing Act

Ahh the good old days. It was all about balance in those days. I'm talking about my three years as a student at Our Lady Seat of Wisdom (formerly Academy). The key to life, happiness, holiness, was balance. And looking back, it was so easy. Yes many of us would wake up at 6am, go to the church and pray, serve at Mass, and then on to breakfast and classes. In between classes the time was set for doing our readings (which were always impossible to keep up on... get to the point Kant!). The day continued as such, and then there'd be some more prayer time, supper, chores, and usually a sports game. We'd then return to our houses to work on essays, study, and relax with friends. Bedtime, for me, was usually at 9:30pm. Weekends often involved essays, sports, spending time with friends, nature, and God. Occasionally even trips to Ottawa were arranged. Just wonderful time. The success of those days was the balance. God. School. Health. Friends. Recreation. Oh my, what a saint I was. Patron saint of perfect students. Patron saint of tightrope walkers, what with the perfect balance.

Looking back, although it seemed like it was a great effort to live a balanced life, we were actually spoon fed this balance. I mean, even our classes were scheduled around a proper balance such as Mass, meals, and sports. It's sort of like waking up in the morning, stumbling into the dining room, and seeing a perfectly cooked breakfast of eggs and bacon, with fresh coffee and orange juice, waiting before you. Yes, you can say: "I ate a hearty and balanced breakfast this morning!" But in reality, the breakfast is so evidently before you... how could you not?

Sigh.

Now it's time to think of the balance of "real" life as a married man with little kids, a job, and other commitments.

First off, waking up early: Check. Though it is more like stumbling out of bed and trying not to pass out on the floor before making it to the living room. Praying (not in the church): Check. Though the prayer is usually a: "please don't let me fall back asleep Lord, I need to get to work on time." And then it all sort of goes downhill from there. There is no opportunity for daily Mass (except for Wednesday nights). So I have to attempt very fervent spiritual communions, or risk living on spiritual fumes. But I'm sooooo tired to make fervent spiritual communions. Spiritual fumes can't be all bad, can they? Right? Work is hectic. It risks encompassing too much of my life. Bad for balance. Some teachers live at the school. Me, thankfully I have little kids to draw me away. They help with balance. Coming home from work involves never ending playing with the kids (which is fun!), chores, changing diapers (which is not fun!), and dealing with meltdowns. Eventually I guiltily steal away to the basement for a quick night workout, just like a knight in shining armour who abandons his princess in order to go play poker with the guys. Guilty as charged. But all in the name of balance! With the workout complete it's time for putting the kids to bed, night prayers, and maybe a bit of relaxation (aka watching sports). A night of restless sleep (Oh John Paul) brings more tiredness. The following pattern is repeated. But it is done increasingly poorly due to less and less sleep. Until by Friday night everything is survival mode. A balance is not yelling at the kids more than 10x a day. A balance is praying evening prayer without stopping 5x to blow someone's nose. A balance is actually spending 20 minutes playing with the kids versus collapsing on the couch and watching sports. In short, a balance, a very poor balance at that, is waaaay too much work. No more spoonfeeding for me. The voice in my head says: "You want something... get off your butt and work for it. I don't care if your tired." Suddenly I risk not replacing St. Joseph as the patron saint of married men. I'm like the patron saint of excuses.

I am grateful for my time at the (formerly known as) Academy. Though it was in hindsight easy, the experience of living such a balanced life has made me, however poorly, at least continue to strive for that balance. Yet life as I live it now also has it's perks. Whereas before I was spoon fed a balanced life, now I am spoon fed a life of sacrifice, dying to self, and love. In the end, there is one thing we are judged on. The one thing that must have no balance. That is love. Yes love is proven through sacrifice, virtue, and so on. But ultimately love must be the greatest of unbalances. To quote St. Jose Maria Escriva (The Way 427): "Lord, may I have balance and measure in everything...
                                                                                                                       ...except in love."

Guess the Musician/Band

Let's take a break from the stress of life for a moment.

I like to test my grade 5 students to see how knowledgeable they are of bands and musicians. They often know the biggest most popular current stars, but fall short with some musicians that, I think, should be common knowledge. One way of testing their knowledge is through these little pictures I put together. You have a try.


1.

2.

3.

 4.

5.

6.

7.

8.

                 

 9.

10.

A B C D E F G

H I J K L M N O P

Q R S T U U V W X Y Z

Bonus:

Answers:

1 - Aerosmith
2 - Justin Bieber
3 - Fallout Boy
4 - Johnny Cash
5 - Maroon 5
6 - John Denver
7 - Europe
8 - Imagine Dragons
9 - Yellowcard
10 - U2

Bonus: Toto

Habemus Papam: The Cutest Pope Ever.

This past weekend was filled with trying to escape Halloween, and then celebrating the real Solemnity of All Saints. It all began with a crazy Friday (a crazy week, actually) at school. Kids somehow believe that Halloween means no working. So the majority of the day is a war with them. Finally, in the last hour they are permitted to have a Halloween party. Long story short, the day is simply horrible. I can't stand it.

So then Saturday, the real Halloween day, we decided to avoid the trick or treat crowd for the majority of the day by taking off to Prince Albert to shop. We arrived back home at around 6pm, thinking we'd have time to quietly get ready for Mass and, if the occasion arose, give out a bit of candy (we only had a very tiny amount available). As we pulled onto our street we were horrified to see a school bus park beside our house. Streams of kids came pouring out of the bus. Our house was to be inundated with trick or treaters! In a panic, we quickly decided to drive around for another 10 minutes until the threat subsided. The town was buzzing with kids. We eventually snuck into our house, locked ourselves in, and very quietly, with little light, got ready for Mass. Phew.

When we got home from Mass we worked on some saints costumes for the All Saints Day party hosted by Grandma in Nipawin.

Announcing... St. George!

Announcing... St. John Paul II!

Is he not the cutest little saint you ever saw!?! At the party the Filipinos could hardly keep their hands off of him. They kept picking him up and saying "Pope! Pope!" There was another little kid who kept following John Paul around and giving him random hugs. Beloved Saint John Paul II is as popular as ever.

Our only regret is that we didn't have little red shoes for him to wear.

Later that day we/me had a surprise DQ icecream cake to get a kick start on my birthday! I almost got to blow out my own candles too. Almost.

And today was, of course, my real birthday. Unfortunately the principal announced it over the intercom so I was serenaded to Happy Birthday by all my classes, as well as given birthday greetings probably a couple hundred times. Oh well. It's nice to be loved, I guess.

More importantly it's the feast of All Souls. We snuck out to the grave yard for prayers. Indeed, pray for the souls in purgatory. It could very well be you needing prayers someday!