The Holy Ghost Delivers

JMJ. As I have told some of my dearest friends, I pray daily for a major moral miracle which would inaugurate the reigns of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Most Immaculate Heart of Mary. I didn't think of this--my buddy Charlie did. It's worth praying for. And I try to do it as often as I can.

It doesn't happen every day that our prayers are answered but every once in a while (as Charlie is wont to say,) He gives us a little "peck on the cheek" and shows us how we might have "helped" Him. This was one of those occasions. Charlie told me about the "Manhattan Declaration" which is, in a spiritual sense, a declation of independence for the soul of America. We drew a line in the sand and said, "This is what I believe and beyond this I will not go!"

I challenge all who read this site (and I know you are few) to go to their website,

http://manhattandeclaration.org

to peruse the statement in its entirety. You can also access a list of all those notables, Catholic, Orthodox, and evangelical Protestant, who have affixed their names to this document just as blatantly as did John Hancock to his.

This is a watershed, folks. A "stand-up-and-be-counted" time. Do we align ourselves with Christ and His teachings or do we side with the culture of death? You decide.

Prayer

JMJ. I feel the need to share a prayer with you, O unknown reader. I try to say it every day though I sometimes forget. My three favourite are the Lord's Prayer, given us by Jesus Himself, the Ave Maria, a reflection of Holy Scripture, and the Memorare, written by St. Bernard of Clairveaux a thousand years ago. This one I've come up with all by myself (I think) that fills MY needs and states MY feelings. This is my own. Please bear with me.

"Dear Jesus, beloved Saviour, I give Thee thanks and praise for Thy many blessings but particularly for Thy death upon the Cross with hath redeemed all of sinful humanity but especially this poor sinner who seeks only to love and obey Thee. I offer up to Thee this day--with all my hopes, my fears, my joys, and my sorrows, my success, my failures, my aches, pains, frustrations, and small sufferings that I more perfectly conform myself to Thy death upon the Cross that when I stand before Thee in final judgment thou mayest recognise me as Thy brother. I beg forgiveness for the sins which I commit and omit which cause Thee so much pain and sorrow and I beg Thy grace that I may sin no further and that I may become a more perfect disciple for Thee. Amen."

My Father

JMJ. I went to visit my Dad yesterday. He's living in a nursing home in Huron, Ohio. He has Alzheimer's. This is sad, considering that he was an engineer at NASA for over thirty years. In fact, he started there when it was still NACA. That's going back a long time.

I just toured the visitor's center at Lewis Research Center in Cleveland since there is talk that they're going to move the museum to the building next to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame, the Great Lakes Science Center. How sad! I remember riding along with my Mom when she dropped him off at work (long before there was a second car in our household.) We'd drive up to the gate and the guard would ask what our business was. Dad would show his badge and say that we were dropping him off to work. I felt taller than a sequoia that my Dad was part of the space program.

Things have changed since the last time I was there. I had to show my driver's license and declare that I am a US citizen. Further, I had to swear that there were no weapons in my car. I think that this whole rigamarole just made me prouder. I was going back, not for my benefit, but in remembrance of all the times I was there with Dad.

During our visit I told him of all this. He had to ask whom I was speaking of. I told him that I was talking about him and how proud I was of him. He answered that he didn't remember any of this but I told him that I'd remember for both of us. He smiled and seemed to accept this. I asked him what was new and he said that he didn't think he'd be here much longer. His dad was over 100 when he died but mine is only 83.

Maybe he knows something that I don't. I think he's tired of living and he misses Mom. I told him that if he feels the need to go that he has my blessing. I feel sure that he has God's. Our Lord, through the Divine Mercy, asks each of us to declare for Him or against Him. Dad, like Mom, was never stupid. I feel sure that we'll meet again one day throught the grace of God.

A New Hope

JMJ. I've mentioned before that I am a convert to this wonderful faith. This coming Easter will be my 11th anniversary. In those eleven years I've met some absolutely wonderful cradle Catholics. Bob, Charlie, and Jan Marie are ones that I've mentioned before. (I could mention so many more but that would take an entire page.) I've also met ones who give Catholicism a bad name. These are ones who are Catholic in name only--who have embraced, if not the name, at least the philosophy of the Protestants.

These are the ones who believe that women should be priests, that abortions are a woman't right, and that homosexuals deserve the right to marry. In short, they feel that God's only fault is that He failed to ask their opinions on things. By and large, these are older folks. Folks of my generation or a little younger who grew up on the idea that all ideas are created equal.

The mature know that this is not the case. Two plus two never equals 3.75 no matter how much we wish it were so. You get my drift. Well, I met a bunch of committed young folks who renewed my faith that Christ makes all things new. A group from the local college's Newman Center raked and blew our leaves today. They asked only for a donation over $10.00. All I asked is that none of them ever worked to elect a Democrat. The young lady in charge pointed at a nearby young man and herself and said, "Here's two who didn't." Thanks be to God. The world (and this jaded writer) are continually renewed. (BTW, they did a great job and I gave 'em $75.--They deserved every bit of it.)

Veterans' Day

JMJ. Mark your calendars if they aren't already. Nov. 11 is Veterans'
Day. I think of this every time a young serviceman (or woman) gets shipped home for burial from Afghanistan or Iraq or whatever venue is hot at the moment. The crowds line the streets and weep as the cortege passes by. They wave flags, salute the coffin, and mourn the passing of a young life cut short before it had even begun.

I can't help but wonder, "Where were you sunshine patriots when OUR dead arrived?" They were just as dead, just as young, and just as patriotic as these youngsters are. But the streets were empty, the only mourners were family and close friends, and the media largely ignored them except in terms of "body count." If you ever wonder why one Viet Nam vet says "Welcome Home" to another it is for this reason. Nobody welcomed us then or acknowledges us now.