The Quest

Verily did the Warrior Matron cast herself into the small cavern beneath the desk upon which sits the computer, and found that there were within cables like unto Devil's Snare which sought to entrap her in their coils. And lo, there also were gossamer threads woven by the descendants of Shelob and Aragog. Yet bravely did she toil and bravely did she thrust her bare arm into the crevice from which the cables descend, though by some magic it snapped upon her arm and bit her fierce. And yet she labored on until at last she discovered the futility of her quest on realizing that this labor required two valiant souls. 

But still the vision of the larger goal bestirred her heart, and yea did she connect the monitor, and yea did she attach the keyboard with its mousy familiar, and yea did she awake the great power of the grid. And though the cables writhe upon the desk, and sound there is not, and printing there is not, and she is sore-wounded unto the requiring of the ointment of Neosporin, yet, forsooth, there is Microsoft Office and there is Publisher, and she hath the power to summon the battle of the bulletin to her home.

AMDG

Walker Percy Moment

This is the road that we have to take to work everyday.

If you aren't familiar with Walker Percy, this quote from The Moviegoer ought to explain.

She refers to a phenomenon of moviegoing which I have called certification. Nowadays when a person lives somewhere, in a neighborhood, the place is not certified for him. More than likely he will live there sadly and the emptiness which is inside him will expand until it evacuates the entire neighborhood. But if he sees a movie which shows his very neighborhood, it becomes possible for him to live, for a time at least, as a person who is Somewhere and not Anywhere.

I don't know about anyone else around here, but I'm getting a bit irritated with the Temptations.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

On a more serious note, they have a diagnosis for what ails my mother. She has been having a really rough time of it, so if you have a moment to say a prayer for her, please do.

AMDG

Peace

I'm about to head out for the hospital where my mother is recovering from a stomach virus and being tested for some heart problems. Please keep her in your prayers.

So, I only have a couple of minutes, but I wanted to write a few observations about the prayers in the Vatican Gardens this afternoon with Pope Francis, Shimon Peres, Mahmoud Abbas, and Ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew. This is going to be quick and off the top of my head, so please forgive any mistakes, and what will probably be terrible grammar.

A short while ago, Maclin posted an item on Light on Dark Water entitled Thank Heaven for EWTN or something very like--I don't have time to check--and I thought about that as I watching and thinking, "Thank heaven I don't have to watch this accompanied by the incessant chatter of people who think they know what they are talking about. The fact that there was only translation and no commentary was a great blessing. Of course, it may have been that way on other channels. I don't know because I only watched one.

And then there were the prayers--so similar.  Who could have told them one from the other. Of course, they were mostly based on the psalms, but I still thought how similar our prayers are. This always strikes me when I watch a movie directed by Majid Majidi.

As I watched the musicians, I saw how some members of each group (or in the case of the Moslem, the one man) would be nodding their heads to the rhythm of the other group's music. It has always seemed to me that music is the closest thing to pure spirit that we can experience with our bodies, and, of course, it is the language of love, not just human love, but that Love from which all other loves proceed. So, it was lovely to see these musicians caught up in that language being created by those whom they might oppose on any other day.

Just looking at the group, I thought how seldom it is nowadays to see a group of people gathered and to see no texting, noone wearing a bluetooth, or plugged into headsets, no one holding up a phone to take a picture. Everyone there (although I'm sure they were distracted in their own minds) focused on the one person speaking or praying and the God Who was listening.

And, peaceful it was--profoundly peaceful. I'm so glad that it was outside.

And bless Pope Francis. Who else could have pulled this off?

Well, I have to run.

AMDG

For Now

Well, I really wanted to post something tonight about our trip to Louisville, but after spending the better part of an hour searching 5 flash drives, 2 desktops, a laptop and my phone card, I have determined that the pictures I was going to post have disappeared from the face of the earth, or perhaps only from Mississippi. I could substitute some pictures from online, but they aren't as good, and so I'm going to wait until Monday to see if perhaps they aren't on my computer at work.

In the meantime:

I try to go to the church for a minute at lunchtime to say the Angelus (or currently the Regina Caeli) most days.  A couple of weeks ago, I dragged myself into the church after a busy, confusing day. I was worried about my mother and some other things, and knelt down in my customary pew. When I looked up, this is what I saw.

At first I thought it might be Elvis--the church is very close to Graceland--but on closer inspection, he turned out to be Frankenduck. I left him in the church for a couple of days in case someone came back for him, but now he lives on my desk.

I'm not so worried about my mother anymore. In case you are picturing some dreary old folks home, this is where she eats.

Below is a picture of a church that we went to on Saturday and Monday. It's a Dominican parish and on Saturdays they have a holy hour and confessions and noon Mass. When we visited my daughter on Thanksgiving vacation, we made it for the entire time, but this time we didn't get there until shortly before Mass began. 

When I looked at the church's website, I noticed that they had confessions for an hour before noon Mass Monday through Saturday, so we went back on Monday and when we got there, 30 minutes after confessions began, there were people lined up halfway down the church aisle--on a Monday. I was pretty impressed. Even though we stood in line for 30 minutes, we still had to wait until after Mass to confess. There was only one priest hearing confessions. On Saturday, they have three and the lines are even longer.

Now, anyone that has been reading this blog for any length of time knows that I really want to go to Spain and make a pilgrimage to Santiago de Compostela. As time passes, and falling trees and dying swimming pools consume what little money I have, and I get older and older, that hope is becoming rather wan; however, while we were in Louisville, we began another sort of pilgrimage. And one neat thing is that we got a passport to take around with us just like we would on the camino.

There are eight stops on the Bourbon Trail, and we got our little stamp for the first one.

We went to the Evan Williams Bourbon Experience and now I know all about how to make bourbon. At the end of the tour, we got to go into a little tavern which was much cooler and more authentic looking than the one in the picture on the page I linked to, and taste a couple of different kinds of bourbon. Unfortunately, I liked the more expensive one better, which is the story of my life. If you visit all eight locations in a year you get a t-shirt. Although I think I'll be going to Louisville fairly often now that my daughter lives there, I don't know if I can go that often, but then, I don't often wear t-shirts.

Well, if nothing else, this post is eclectic.

AMDG