A Pro-Lifer's Experience With RU-486

I haven't been on here in a few days. I wanted to write this post, but also wanted to be sure that I got it right. I wanted to write about my own experience taking Mifeprex and Misoprostol, the abortion drugs known as RU-486.

In July of 2006, I was 18 weeks pregnant with our sixth child. We were excited about this new person , but had all of the normal trepidations that come with a new baby. I don't think it matters if you are expecting your first or your tenth, the worries and fears are all the same.

On the fourth of July, we went to a friend's house for swimming and a bar-be-que in celebration, with plans to go downtown to watch the fireworks that night. I hadn't been feeling right for a couple of days and complained to my friend that I had a back ache, and just generally felt run down. I spent the day curled up in a chair and went home before the fireworks began.

The next day, I had the kids' grandmother come over and I drove myself in to my midwife's office for a little reassurance and to just get peace of mind that everything was okay. It wasn't. Our baby had died at some point during the previous week. I was given three options for what to do now:
1. Surgical intervention- Called a D&E, the doctor would dilate my cervix and evacuate the "contents" of my uterus (that's the way he put it..touching isn't it?)
2. Induce labor with Mifeprex and Misoprostol within the next 24 hours to get things over with quickly
3. Wait for nature to take care of it.

Normally I'm in favor of doing things naturally, but it could have taken 2 or more weeks for me to go into labor, and I didn't feel that I could emotionally handle walking around with my dead baby inside of me waiting to set off an emotional time bomb. The surgical option carries with it the chance of significant damage to the cervix and/or uterus, so this was not an option. I chose the induction, then I had to call my husband and tell him our baby was dead, then tell our other children.

We went to the hospital the next morning at 9:00 AM for the induction. I was told that it could take up to 24 hours for labor to begin. Really, I just wanted them to give me the drugs and let me go home. I didn't want to spend 24 hours on the maternity ward listening to the cries of other people's healthy babies and wait for my own heartbreak to begin. I have been in labor a few times and thought it was reasonable to think that I would know when to come to the hospital. I was told I could bleed to death. I stayed.

Labor began for me about 3 hours after I took the first dosage. It was administered both orally and vaginally. Within the first hour, I understood why I couldn't have gone home. I began to pass blood clots. They came in steady succession as if on a string. They ranged in size from the size of a chicken's egg to as large as my fist. Every time I moved another clot would become loose and come out. I thought I was hemorrhaging; I thought I was going to bleed to death. It was horrific. I forgot why I was there for a while and just sat on the bed crying and shaking in fear that my 4 living children would grow up without me. I have no idea how much blood came out of my body. I stopped counting clots at 20. After 20, it just didn't seem to matter any more. I asked the nurse if my experience was normal and she assured me that this was what an RU-486 abortion looked like and that I was fine.

Our daughter's body was delivered four and a half hours after the first contraction. She was the size of my hand. She was smooth and shiny and pink with perfect fingers and toes. Heartbreakingly small and achingly perfect. Our midwife wiped her clean and laid her on a blanket before handing her to me. I have never seen such agony as I saw on my husband's face when he heard her whisper, "It's a girl." His face looked like it folded in on itself. Our baby was really and truly dead. Somehow it didn't seem real until we held her in our hands and looked at her through our tears.

It wasn't over yet. I still had to deliver the placenta. It took another two hours for it to let go and come out of me. The doctor who was supervising kept coming by to check and ask "Is it out yet?" in a strangely cold voice. I later learned from my midwife that she performed abortions herself and was deeply disturbed by our pain. She told our midwife to get us out of the hospital as quickly as possible because we were upsetting the staff, and that she didn't understand why we were crying over something which was little more than a tumor in medical terms.

I can not imagine being 14, at home, trying to hide this from my mother, and having this experience. My brain can't even get to that place of fear. A child, scared and alone, passing blood clot after blood clot, thinking you're bleeding to death, but afraid to tell in case you aren't. And then, delivering that impossibly small body. Perfect, lifeless, and undeniably human. What does a little girl do when her body hurts that much, and her mind fears that much, and her baby lies dead in her hand? How is this okay?

I am not sure what the answers are, but I do know that women deserve better than to be treated this way. Our bodies and our minds deserve better protection. People can chant and scream about the rights of women, but I know that women and girls have a right to something better than this. They have a right to something better than abortion.

Good-Bye Old Friend

I just watched our old truck drive away with its new owner. We needed to sell it, but I hated to watch it drive away.

It was the first car my husband bought as a grown-up. He was so proud of its shiny blue body and loud, rumbling engine. It was only a few years old at the time, and looked as if it were new.

We drove it the long 12 hour drive to visit our parents many times. Its bench seat wasn't the most comfortable after all that time, but it was dependable and sure and got us there and back easily.

It is the car we left our wedding in with "Just Married" painted on the back window. Its the car my new husband was driving when he got a speeding ticket on the way to get those decorations washed off.

We drove our blue truck on the day we went to the hospital to have Little Kid #1 and drove home with our new baby tucked into the car seat nestled between us. I'll always remember the way she looked all scrunched up in her chair in that big blue truck.

It was the high point of our day to hear that engine come rumbling up the street. We all knew that DAD was home and the children would pour out of the house shrieking his name and begging to be hugged and carried back inside. His new car is practical and nice, but it sounds like every other car on the street, so he often has to actually walk inside before we know he's home. I will miss the excitement generated by the sound of that old engine.

We have a bigger family now, and a vehicle that only seats 3 doesn't make sense for a family of 7, but it was sad to see it go. I'll admit to sitting here crying over my husband's beat up, rusty old pickup. I'm a softy that way I guess. I hope its new owner enjoys it as much as we have. He has all kinds of plans for souping up the engine and the cool new paint job.

Good-bye old friend. We will miss you.

To our friends who are on their way to Alaska. We wish you a safe journey. Let us know when you arrive safely please.

Why the Ivy League is Irrelevant

For those who still harbored any doubts about traditional education failing our children, I bring you the startling revelation of Idris Leppla, a SENIOR at Barnard College

the United States Naval Academy, to which her mother recently had chauffeured her brother to enroll, “was not a school; this was the military.

Gasp...sputter...What? The United States Naval Academy is really the Navy? How could the average person have ever figured that out since they cleverly disguised the name that way?

Even worse... She tried to get the people in charge to send her baby brother home by arguing that his signature on the paperwork didn't count because he

“signed the oath after he had been yelled at all day and his hair just been shaven off during his first day there.”

I think I might cry.

She was also shocked to learn that

leadership seminars in the course catalog were “seminars about weaponry and leading troops into combat.

Oh NO!

Can you imagine the crap this plebe is going to have to take all year because his mommy and his sister tried to get him out because they were too dumb to realize he was in the military? It doesn't seem to matter because

The brother “ended up liking” the academy and will stay, his sister reports.

Ms. Leppla concluded,“For anyone else out there considering a career in the academy, let it be known: The U.S. Naval Academy is not an elite college; it is first and foremost a branch of the U.S. military.” This warning is unnecessary outside the Ivy League, but in it . . . well, it may be useful.

Wow, if this is an Ivy League education, then I will send my kids to community college, or perhaps a military academy where they can actually learn something. I hope Ms. Leppla is not going into rocket science or brain surgery, and perhaps someone needs to do a degree review on her before she graduates or issue a disclaimer with her diploma.

Amazing.

hat tip to Foxfier over at Head Noises for this one.

A Rose By Any Other Name...

It was all over the news this morning that some yankees named their baby Wrigley Fields. The parents are die-hard baseball fans and thought it was an appropriate name, all things considered. They gave him the middle name Alexander in case he found Wrigley too difficult when he was an adult.

I don't get what all the fuss is about. Those of us who live south of the Mason-Dixon line have been naming our kids weird things for years. For example:

1. Justin Case- no foolin', this was my brother's best friend in elementary school, he was the second son and his folks thought it was funny. So did Justin.

2. Merry Christmas - a family counselor who helped our family after my mother's car accident when I was 14. In all fairness, she married into this name, but she changed it from Mary to Merry on her own.

3. Crystal Shanda Lear - I went to school with this girl and no one knew her weird name until graduation.

4. Julian Forest A. - We're related to this one, doesn't seem strange until you know she's named for the actual Julian Forest.

5. Lahusticia -She dated a friend's son. It's supposed to be "the justice" in Spanish, but he parents didn't speak Spanish or know that it was supposed to be spelled with a 'J'

6. My all time favorite was a woman in my hometown born to non-english speaking immigrants. They couldn't come up with a name for her, and were glad that the hospital came up with one for them. Her name? Female, pronounced fay-mah-lay. She kept it and laughs about it often.

Be honest, how many of us know someone named after a favorite horse or hunting dog? Heck, that crocodile hunter named his baby girl after his favorite croc and his favorite dog, Bindi Sue. So lighten up on the parents of Wrigley Fields, they love their baseball and they love their boy. Now they can love them both together.

The hermeneutic of continuity: A fitting vestment

The hermeneutic of continuity: A fitting vestment

Go to the Hermeneutic to see the awesome sight of a modern priest saying Mass while wearing the vestments of 2 British martyrs from the reign of Henry VIII. I don't know how he managed to say Mass without tearing up.

Hard Facts of Life

It is a hard fact to learn that little baby squirrels sometimes fall out of trees, and even more difficult to discover that your sweet dog thinks dead squirrels are a good thing.

The Little Kids were playing outside before school this morning when they saw a little squirrel fall to its death. They gathered around to look at it and were upset to see it gasp its last breath. Grace, our dog, was not upset at all. She thought this was wonderful and squirmed around little legs to reach her new toy. I wish I could adequately describe the shrieks of horror that were heard as she flipped her new toy around in the air. She didn't eat it, just played with it.

I came to the rescue and buried the nasty thing in the flower bed. (Free fertilizer is always a good thing in my opinion.) Then I overheard the 6 year old explaining to his little sister, age 3, that the squirrel wasn't going to Heaven because squirrels have no souls. Hooray! He got it! Immortal souls and what becomes of them was our focus in catechism this week. I worried that it went over the head of my first grader, but it appears that he understood it all. Children are so much smarter than we give them credit for being. So, we buried the squirrel, but said no prayers for it. In the words of my 6 year old, "We pray for people, but not for animals. Animals don't last." Well put, my dear.

Our Funny Church

Today is the Feast of the Martyrs of Korea, Saint Andrew Kim Taegon, Saint Paul Chong Hasang, and those who died with them. I was reading about the foundations of the Church in Korea and found it interesting that the Korean Church is unique in being founded entirely by the laity.

When reading the stories of these martyrs on the Patron Saint Index, I had to smile when I read

less than a century, it (the Korean Church) could boast of 10,000 martyrs.

It struck me how strange this must sound to most people. What kind of organization says "within less than a hundred years, 10,000 of or members were tortured and killed....want to join?" and yet the Catholic Church is so very proud of these men and women.

Perhaps it is because we, as a Church, are supposed to focus on things not of this world. Perhaps it is because we are raised from childhood to admire those who have won a martyrs crown. Notice that I say they "won" it. Is it strange to think that someone who was tortured and beheaded is the victor? I suppose it depends upon your perspective. If you are of the world, then those who died have lost their lives. If you are concerned with God, then those who died have gained their lives.

It is a point of view which most people in our self-centered culture can not understand. How can we take such joy and hope from the death of our brethren? It is because we place our hope on something bigger than today. Our hope is on Eternity, and that is why we rejoice in those who arrive there victorious.

What I Wouldn't Give...

for a slice of bread or a piece of chocolate cake. No, I'm not on some weird fad diet, that would be easier. Ever since the birth of our latest Little Kid, I have had an allergy to wheat. Even one bite is enough to make the inside of my mouth start burning and itching and an entire piece will set off a migraine headache and enough nausea to keep me in bed for the rest of the day. Most of the time, I no longer mind at all. It is just a fact of my life and I have learned how to eat around it. Ah, but other times...like yesterday when we had the Adored Husband's grandmother over for her birthday dinner and the children made chocolate cake. Thankfully, I had enough foresight to make them halve the recipe so that there were no left-overs.

I wouldn't even mention it now except that there are 4 ripe bananas in the fruit bowl just begging to be made into banana bread. If I make it, I will eat it, so they are going into the trash. ....SIGH.... I hate wasting things. We were too poor when we were first married and had to save every crumb too long for me to feel entirely comfortable with throwing anything away which could be used. Most of the time my cheapness is a virtue. Today it is a stumbling block. I guess I could just offer it up and then someone benefits and it doesn't really go to waste does it?

Purgatory

I promised to share my explanation of how Purgatory is like the Wizard of Oz on Monday; I just didn't get to it. So, here it is today.

Do you remember on the Wizard of Oz when Dorothy and her friends got to the Emerald City? They went right up to the door and asked to be admitted. The guy in charge of the door inspected them and found them to be worthy to be allowed in the presence of the Great and Powerful Oz. They were worthy, but not ready.

They were still covered with the dirt and grime left behind from their trip along the yellow brick road and their excursions off of it. They were taken off to the side, to where people are made ready.

If you are still with me on this, do you remember what happened to them in the make-ready room? The Scarecrow and the Tin Man were taken completely apart, fixed and then put back together. The Scarecrow had some rotten straw in and among the good which needed to be removed and the Tin Man had rust and dents which had to be sanded off and banged out of him. The Lion had to be trimmed and brushed to remove all of his knots. Even little Toto had to be washed clean of the dust from the road and washed and fluffed before he was ready. It was only after the uncomfortable processes were over that they were clean and shiny and ready.

I imagine that it is similar to how purgatory will be for us. We will be judged worthy but not ready and the guy in charge of the gate will send us to the side to polish us until there are no more rotten or rusted spots. We will have to go through the awkward and sometimes painful experience of being made like new again, and only then will we be ready to stand in the presence of The Great and Powerful One.

How Dead Man's Chest Should Have Ended

Very few things make me actually laugh out loud, but this did. Please watch and enjoy!

O.J. Simpson Arrested

Who could have imagined that a felon who was not in prison would go out and commit felonies? I never saw that coming.

It really is bad timing for Mr. Simpson. This week saw the publication of his book, "If" I Did It. He gets no money for it as the rights were awarded to the families of his victims, but they get the free publicity of his name being in the news again.

This foul-tempered, violent man has yet again run afoul of the law although, thankfully, without a slow speed chase in a white Bronco this time.

Hopefully he will be put away this time and for a long, long time. I read today that the citizens of Las Vegas are conservative (who would have thought?) and are likely to put him away for the maximum amount of time. Somehow I doubt that being a world famous athlete will be to his advantage this time around.

I pray for his children, this must be yet more salt in the wound.

Accordion Music 'Til Your Ears Bleed

We are off to the Irish dancing state championships where our eldest will be competing. An hour or two of accordions can be fun, but this will be about 6 hours. Fun for all! Good luck #1!

UPDATE:
I'm so proud of little kid #1. She danced in seven competitions and got three 1st places, two 2nds, one 3rd and a 4th. Well done indeed!

All of her hard work has definitely paid off. We look for bigger and better things to come in the future. We love you, our darling daughter.

Another update: Just for Gem, I've added a picture of her medals and trophy. As a bonus, you get to see a portion of our schoolroom!

The Chocolate Chip Cookie Theory of Human Sexuality

This is how I explained to my 10 year old what was wrong with homosexuality, living together before marriage, and pretty much any other sexual sin. It's G-rated and easy to understand, so here we go-The Chocolate Chip Cookie Theory of Human Sexuality.

Imagine for a moment that I have baked chocolate chip cookies to make ice cream sandwiches for you because I love you. You have walked into the kitchen as the cookies are cooling on their racks, and you are alone. It's just you and the cookies.

You inhale deeply that intoxicating aroma of fresh-from-the-oven chocolaty goodness and sigh in appreciation. Then you look at the cookies all around you and think to yourself, "Those are some mighty fine looking cookies. I'll bet they taste great." There is absolutely nothing wrong with enjoying the sight and natural attractiveness of my creation. You're right, I make a mighty nice looking cookie.

Then you inhale the aroma again and close your eyes and imagine the way they would taste right now all hot and gooey from the oven. You can feel the warmth in your mouth and the way the cookie would melt on your tongue. You need to stop right there, because now you are lusting after my cookies, and lust is not a good place to be.

You don't stop there, but go on to consider taking one and going off to eat it by yourself. Ice cream sandwiches sound good, but this mouth-watering goodness seems as if it would be enjoyable too. I really wouldn't mind, you reason, since I made those cookies as a sign of my affection for you. Why should I mind if you take one and eat one ahead of time? (You do realize that you are coveting and contemplating theft...don't you?) After all, I love you and I want you to be happy, and eating a cookie right now will make you happy. There's no need to even ask me, you know that I made them to be eaten and that's exactly what you are going to do with it. Eat it. It doesn't really matter how it is eaten as long as you enjoy it right?

WRONG! It absolutely matters. Those are not your cookies. I made them. I made them with a specific purpose in mind. Yes, I made them for your pleasure, but I had plan for how I wanted them to be eaten. I planned it out so that each one had an intended opposite partner. If you just start grabbing willy-nilly, then you disrupt the order of my plan for creation.

You can not just assume that because you want something your way makes it okay. I did the planning. I did the work. I made the cookies. If you want some to eat cookies any old way, then YOU make them.

[Please note that when the two halves are joined by their creator and filled with good stuff (grace) then they stick together and are a joy to everyone, especially the one who made them and then put them out there for the world to appreciate.]


SO that's what cookies have to do with it. Now go get yourself a cookie and a glass of milk and ENJOY!

Skip Work, Make Babies

In Russia, the birthrate has fallen so low that one governor is telling people to take today off of work, stay in bed, and make babies! With the Russian population declining by 700,000 people a year, there will soon be difficult choices to make regarding how to support the socialized government handouts unless more taxpayers can be created.

It is not just Russia which is feeling distress over the lack of offspring. A majority of European countries are also feeling the pain which their anti-child/anti-family attitudes have helped to create. It seems that no matter what kind of scheme the government cooks up, whether it be a contest in Russia or cash bonuses in Germany, the bribes don't seem to be working. Until they address societal and personal attitudes toward children and the selfishness of the adult population, no amount of money will convince the populace to conceive and/or carry to term.

So, here's my solution:
1. Encourage marriage by giving tax breaks to married heterosexual couples (sad I had to say the heterosexual part, but the truth is that gay people can't make babies)
2. Lower taxes in general so that people feel as if they can live on the salary from one job. With an average of 50% of a person's salary going to taxes, it is hard to think about being able to support even one child.
3. Propaganda. Use TV to change people's opinions. Need help? Contact the writers of Will and Grace.
4. Outlaw abortion since conception rates are relatively static; it's the BIRTHrate which has fallen.
5. Make your country a safe place to live. Lower crime rates so that people don't live in fear.


That's all I have for now, I'll add more as I think of them.

A martyr for the Faith - Bishop Han Dingxiang

The death has been announced of Bishop Han Dingxiang, who died while in the custody of the Chinese government. The government than cremated his body 6 hours after his death, at 5 AM.

Han was the underground Catholic bishop of Hebei's Yongnian diocese and was ordained in December 1989.

He was imprisoned at a labour camp from 1960 to 1979 and detained at least 11 times during his tenure as a bishop, spending about 35 years in different forms of official custody.

Han's last arrest was in November 1999 while he was conducting a religious retreat for nuns, the statement said.

He was believed to have been held under house arrest at a police apartment from 2003 to 2005.

But members of his congregation had heard no more of him since September 2005, when he was secretly moved to another location.

He is one of a score of elderly priests and bishops who have "conveniently" died within the last few years. Could it be that the Chinese government is stiking out quietly at the underground Roman Catholic Church? A case could certainly be made to show that they are. Let us pray that the Vatican demands an inquest into this matter and does not allow such things to happen in the quiet and the shadows, but exposes them in the light of day.

As for Bishop Dingxiang, I pray that this holy martyr of the Church may at long last find some rest and be greeted at the gates of heaven with "Well done, thou good and faithful servant, now enter into my Kingdom."

Luciano Pavarotti - Ave Maria - Schubert

I know I'm a few days late to write about his passing, but I've been busy with my cleaning spree.

I am not an opera fan, but he sang one of the most beautiful versions of Ave Maria ever. God bless him, may he rest in peace.

I love nights like this!

Last night, the baby woke up at 4:00 to eat, then went right back to sleep; I did not. I laid there for about 15 minutes trying to doze, but kept thinking about all of the things I could get done if only I got out of bed. Gleefully I tiptoed down the stairs in the blissful quiet and began one of those hard-core cleaning sessions I can only manage when the mood strikes me. Unfortunately it only strikes me about four times a year, so I know to take advantage of it when it's here.

I love the silence of the middle of the night. It's a rare thing for a homeschooling mom of five to get to revel in the peaceful quiet of a house in which everyone is home, all are healthy, all are happy, no one is fighting or yelling, and I can be alone with my own thoughts and the manic energy of a cleaning spree. Why do these things never hit me the day before we have company?

I cleaned, mopped, and waxed the kitchen floor; cleaned out the refrigerator and polished the appliances. Then, I moved on to the downstairs bath. I have little boys, so the bath can be pretty nasty. I cleaned it with ease. They are still sleeping, so it's still sparkling now! Next it was off to the laundry room. With a song in my heart, I cleaned this nastiest of rooms, where things seem to go when nobody wants them, but can't throw them out. I am the one who throws things out in a family of pack rats. It's clean and organized now! Hooray! For one moment in time this one small part of the house is clean and clutter free.

I still want to clean the children's bath upstairs before they awaken, and there's one more load of laundry to do... I love nights like this. Is it too much to ask for the mood to strike again tonight?

BVM

And he came to her and said, "Hail full of grace, the Lord is with you!" -Luke 1:28

I actually think the original Greek word kecharitomene sums it up best. It means so full of grace that you literally can not add another drop. Wow. The first person since Adam and Eve to be created without the stain of Original Sin, the only human being ever to be protected from Actual Sin. (Christ was incapable of Actual Sin, that's different from being protected from it.) How amazing it must have been to have known the Blessed Mother when she still walked the Earth.

There are many misconceptions about the Blessed Virgin Mary and the attitudes of Catholics toward her. Many Protestants, in their enthusiasm for casting off the remnants of all things Catholic, choose to ignore the place which this unique human being held in all Creation.They find it easier to ignore or denigrate her than to try and come to some sort of personal resolution about this remarkable woman. Other people try to dismiss her as simply another woman who did nothing more than carry a child in her womb; something millions of women have done without meriting any special attention or fanfare. Many of these same people wrongly believe that we, as Catholics, worship her and place her in a space which should be reserved for God alone. We certainly don't place her on par with God, but we love and revere her and look to her for help and inspiration.

I can remember being a little girl in Church and studying the cool and lovely face of Mary in the statue which stood in its niche. She was beautiful, but aloof, somehow separate from the world. It didn't seem strange to me at the time, of course the Mother of God would be above the petty concerns of the world, that seemed natural. Now that I am a mother myself I can't help but wonder about her humanity.

I wonder how she sounded when she laughed. Was it a quiet chuckle, or would her joy flow out from her in rolling peals of laughter, its clear sound filling the space around her? I'll bet she laughed, hard. How could someone so full of the love of God not spill over with joy until it touched everyone?

Understanding that protected from sin is entirely different from perfection, I wonder about her flaws. Could she sing loud and clear and true, or was her singing voice one of those things that Jesus and Joseph would roll their eyes at and share a laugh over. "Mom's singing again...or trying to.." Was she clumsy? Did she burn dinner because she was too busy listening to her baby cooing in the cradle and forget that she had put it in the oven? I don't know the answers, but I like the questions. I love the image of the mother who burns the loaf of bread because she was too busy in prayer to her child's Father, or even just too busy dancing in the kitchen with the baby.

The statues are lovely, I have several myself which I treasure, but I think their austere beauty is missing something vital. In striving to show the beauty of the woman who was judged as being the only one in history worthy of being chosen to mother God's only Child, we often forsake that which made her blessedly human. We miss the spark of laughter in her eyes, the glowing pride of a mother over her perfect child, the tears in her eyes when she stubbed her toe, and the woman who could get distracted and scorch the soup.

Blessed Mother of God, who knew what it was to be an imperfect woman, and yet knew the beauty of the fullness of Grace, pray for us who have recourse to thee.

Babies

One of the greatest joys in choosing to be open to life and to the will of God, and surrounding ourselves, by choice, with others who feel the same, is the plethora of babies and children who touch our lives.

We often get to hear about them when they are still in the planning stage, the hopeful 'am I pregnant stage', and the joyful point when they are still a secret to everyone but a select few. How wonderful it is to be loved and trusted enough to be let in on the secret; how difficult to not shout our joy to all the world!

Our lives right now seem to be filled with little-people on the way. No, not ours. We have a 4 month old and are in no hurry to expand our brood. I am talking about the lovely circle of family and friends we have gathered about us.

It is a testimony to the goodness of God that He continues to bless our lives with these smiling, drooling, laughing and often crying miracles of creation. How wonderful they are in all their imperfection and humanity and how amazing in their reflection of the love of God.

God bless the pregnant women and the men who love them. The mothers who are gloriously round and those with a secret still tucked safely and quietly beneath their hearts. We wait with eager anticipation to see what wonders your small ones will bring to this world.

+JMJ+

Visitors

In the very short time that I've been blogging my humble little spot in cyberspace has been visited by people from:

the United States
Turkey
Belgium
United Kingdom
Singapore
Chile
Austria
Philippines
Canada
and parts unknown

It would seem as though all it takes to bring people together is a big-mouthed girl with her computer. Thanks for stopping by!

Boomer Sooner

Go on over to Sooner Scotty's Big Adventure and check out his Okie take on the Creation. It's a hoot.

Step Away from the Popcorn

As if I didn't have enough to worry about in my life, now I find that the delicious smell of microwave popcorn is dangerous. It apparently lead to "a potentially fatal disease commonly called popcorn lung that has been the subject of lawsuits by hundreds of workers at food factories exposed to chemicals used for flavoring."

Sigh...is there anything which tastes good which won't kill you? First steak was bad, then wheat was bad, then artificial sweeteners were bad....at least red wine is still okay 'cause I think I need a drink.....hang on, I'm breast-feeding, so that's bad too. Darn it. I guess I'll have some salad. (Didn't I hear something about the spinach though?)

Too young

Whatever happened to the idea that small children should be at home with their mother? Has it gone the way of the cassette tape? Is it just hopelessly outmoded? I read this morning that more states are increasing the amount of money spent on preschool and head start education and lowering the age at which public education begins to 3. Do three year olds really need to be a part of the public school system? Wouldn't they be better off at home with good old mom baking cookies, playing dress up and running free in the back yard?

Why is it that so many parents seem to be so very eager to get rid of their children by sending them off to be educated by someone else? Many people we know whose children are educated outside of the home speak longingly of the time when their little darlings are off at school and the house is quiet and mom can do what she wants. It may be great for mom, but is it the best thing for her children?

I don't mean to say that there are no benefits to young children getting to play and run and shout and be very loud, there certainly are. But I think we would do well to heed the old saying which goes 'There is no one who loves us like mom loves us.' We have simply lost sight of the fact that the government's intervention into anything, even education, has never yielded a better result than would be provided by personally interested individuals. That means, simply put, no one can teach them the same way mom and dad can, because no one else loves them like mom and dad do.

Is there a place for school? Certainly. Should in be compulsory? No. Should it begin at the tender age of 3? Absolutely not.

Banned!

I am pleased to announce that I have been banned by the Spirit of Vatican II Faith Community.

It's not very "church" of them, but I think I can live with it!

Some Assembly Required

Once upon a time, toys came in a "ready to play with" condition. You opened the box grabbed your toy and ran off to begin the serious business of playing with your new toy. Those days are long gone. The toys which you are fortunate enough to find already put together have so many twisties and fasteners and tape or are actually sewn into the box so securely that would lead one to believe they had purchased something rare and priceless rather than a toy costing $9.99.

This morning my son, child #3, spent his own money to purchase a Bionicle. If you've never seen one of these lovely toys of peace and harmony, I've included a picture. For those in the know, we bought Mahri Toa Hahli. I hope that means something to someone, it's all Chinese to me.

The thing came in approximately 1,000 pieces needing to be assembled by yours truly. I'm sure the "educational value" is derived from the child attempting to assemble it himself. I laugh at that idea. Ha ha ha ha. He's just turned six and can't resist the temptation to chew on little plastic pieces. Since this lovely creature is made entirely from little plastic pieces, there was no way I could leave him alone with it as it came. My mother has said, "Trust your children, but don't tempt them beyond their power to resist." Good advice, mom, thanks. So I put it together. It took an hour and several words I can't write and still maintain a 'G' rating.

I am sure that somewhere in this world there are people who used to pay someone to assemble these things. There may have been an entire cottage industry in 'ugly toy putting together'. But the person in charge understood that if the child wants it badly enough, the parents will do the work and not charge the company the way those people in China would.

Parents of the world, let's get together on this and begin sending the toy manufacturers a bill for the amount of time it takes us to complete THEIR assembly process. I think this one is worth about $10 for the hour, but let's add on a surcharge or $5 for every time I got asked "Is it done yet?" So I'm mailing my bill for $245 today. I'll let you know how it goes.

Who chooses whom?

It's a question I have puzzled over for a while now. So many people's confirmation saints seem to be perfect for them, so did they pick the saint or did the saint pick them?

When I was confirmed, a million and one years ago, there was only the slightest glimmer of the loud, strident Catholic I would become in the little girl that I was. Yet when I looked at books of the saints, St Catherine of Alexandria seemed to be everywhere. I can remember being drawn to her story of bravery and martyrdom and was certain almost from the moment I first read of her that she was the girl for me!

For those who may not know the story of this wonderful saint, here's a bit about her from Catholic Encyclopedia:

Learned in science and oratory. Converted to Christianity after receiving a vision. When she was 18 years old, during the persecution of Maximus, she offered to debate the pagan philosophers. Many were converted by her arguments, and immediately martyred. Maximus had her scourged and imprisoned. The empress and the leader of Maximus' army were amazed by the stories, went to see Catherine in prison. They converted and were martyred. Maximus ordered her broken on the wheel, but she touched it and the wheel was destroyed. She was beheaded, and her body whisked away by angels.

Immensely popular during the Middle Ages, there were many chapels and churches devoted to her throughout western Europe, and she was reported as one of the divine advisors to Saint Joan of Arc. Her reputation for learning and wisdom led to her patronage of libaries, librarians, teachers, archivists, and anyone associated with wisdom or teaching. Her debating skill and persuasive language has led to her patronage of lawyers. And her torture on the wheel led to those who work with them asking for her intercession. One of the Fourteen Holy Helpers.

Those who know me well are probably nodding their heads at this point. Stubborn, head-strong, devout, sure of herself....yes, we see the resemblance. Okay, so back to the original query, did I choose her because she was what I hoped to become, the template I chose for myself , or was she hanging out in Heaven watching and decide "I'll take the little one with the big mouth and all the opinions"? I'd like to think that she chose me. I'd like for her to have seen a little interesting glimmer that she knew could be helped by her quiet intercession. She likes brash and sassy girls; she was one of the saints who kept appearing to St Joan of Arc.

Now I'm not ready to go off charging into battle waving my flag and sounding the 'Charge!', but I'm not willing to give ground on very much either. Especially when I know that I am right. I've planted my flag with my Lord and the only church He founded, with my family , and with my country ....and like my lovely patroness, I will not back down I will not surrender and I will not give in.