The girl & her husband arrived last evening. So very glad to see them. Since time began, she’s had a heart that allows her to see value in everyone she meets. She’s never met someone who didn’t deserve a hug. I used to fear for her safety. Now I see her gift. Matthew 5:38-48, Luke 6:29
Fall Fest began last evening. Lovely area in the bank to hold the function.
Did you notice the gazebo across from the fire station? I’m not sure whose idea it was, but it’s perfect! I’m hoping to see flower beds there in the Spring.
Can we talk some time about fear and how it leads us to react?
*an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat.
*a feeling of anxiety concerning the outcome of something or the safety and well-being of someone.
For those who don’t know me… I am a sassy, opinionated 68 yr old mother to 11 with 22 gchildren (some living, some not). Some married, some not. Some with children, some without. We are Irish, Dutch, English, Scotch, Norwegian, Swede, Kenyon, Cherokee, Blackfoot Sioux, & Mexican… we are proud of our heritage… we are AMERICAN.
We are CATHOLIC. Some practicing, some not, and some fallen away. But once you are, you are, and there is responsibility regardless of whether you recognize that or not. I can not save my children. All I can do is pray for them and remind them they made a promise to God at confirmation. The rest is up to God.
Scripture reminds us that following Christ will not be easy. Our way will be strewn with obstacles and hardships. It tells us to be prepared and to rely on God for all we will need to get through it. Scriptures tell us not to be afraid that we are not alone. It tells us to do what is right even if you stand alone to do that.
Rode the train last night (again) in my dreams. I have no clue where I was going or, for that matter, why I was headed there. I made this same trip last week, in my dreams. I was not afraid, but the tone of the ride was perilous. Others were definitely afraid, some cowering. I sat quietly watching the scenery pass by in my bonnet and Sunday dress. We are North bound, the track is windy and old. Sometimes, we come to almost a complete stop. The going is slow. I can hear someone telling the ticket taker that this section of track doesn’t exist. I don’t understand why he would say that because it obviously did. We were on it. I knew that just ahead, we would break out of the trees, the land would be flat, and the sky would be beautiful. I also knew I would wake up before we reached our destination in my own bed.
Funny how the mind works.
Tuesday devotions… are the day to honor the Holy Face of Jesus. Blessed Maria Pierina was told by Jesus. “I firmly wish that My Face reflecting the intimate pains of My Soul, the suffering and love of My Heart, be more honored,”
I am fortunate to be a member of the Catholic Church. Each day, there are opportunities to know Jesus more fully.
Sundays are little Easters
Mondays are devoted to the Holy Spirit
Wednesdays to St Joseph
Thursdays to the Last Supper and on 1st Thursday the act of reparation.
Friday are for penance and 1st Fridays for the Sacred Heart of Jesus. “In the excess of the mercy of My Heart, I promise you that My all powerful love will grant to all those who will receive Communion on the First Fridays, for nine consecutive months, the grace of final repentance: they will not die in My displeasure, nor without receiving the sacraments; and My Heart will be their secure refuge in that last hour.”
We have grown lax in teaching these devotions to our children. In return for our sloth/or acedia in this area of our faith, hearts have grown luke warm to tepid. PROVERBS 16:18.
Jesus invites us to take up his cross daily LUKE 9:23. These devotions help us do that.
Many thank yous (for a wonderful day yesterday) to friends and family who came over yesterday to celebrate the man’s 72nd and our 49th. It was good. We finally collapsed about 9, leaving what was left to be taken care of today. I’m thinking there might be many recliner snoozes today.
Z, the bouquet is beautiful.
Labor Day… Federal holiday… honoring and recognizing the American labor movement and the works and contributions of laborers to the development and achievements of the United States.
Lookin’ to be a warm one here today. Hope this cool breeze continues for a bit.
The shrubs got trimmed yesterday. They wildly went every which way. Looks like a few tree limbs got clipped as well. More rose bushes are emerging from the ground.
Reading Paul Pearson’s “Spiritual Direction from Dante: Avoiding the Inferno”
It is taking me longer than I desire. It is quite the struggle to quiet the mind and ponder the words that pierce my soul almost every page. Finally, at 68, I am getting it. There were many things I figured out early, but the simmering anger has taken longer to understand. Years, in fact, to glean understanding in regards to the toxicity of the relationship with my mother. Had I realized that you can’t give something you don’t have enough of to share, I perhaps would have been more understanding.
Today, I continue preparing for tomorrow’s little gathering to celebrate birthday and anniversary with friends and family. Join us in the backyard here at the house. Mass is at 10, and let the grilling begin around 1. Horseshoes, volleyball, cornhole toss, croquet, and good conversation and food.
We plant seeds that one day will grow. We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise. We lay foundations that will need further development. We provide yeast that produces effects beyond our capabilities. We cannot do everything there is a sense of liberation in realizing that. This enables us to do something to do it very well. It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for God’s grace to enter and do the rest. We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker. We are the workers, not master builders, ministers, not messiahs. We are prophets of a future not our own.
In the "Wilds of Wisconsin & Cornfields of Iowa" 