Majesty

JMJ. I was taking a shower the other day. (I try to do this once a week or so whether I need one or not.) In the course of my ablutions I was struck by the over-powering majesty of the Catholic Church. It was one of those little pecks on the cheek I've talked about before and is God's way of saying, "I know it's January and dismal as all get-out outside, but I thought I'd bring a little ray of sunshine into your heart."

I need them from time to time and I'm sure that you do, too, imaginary reader. There is something immensely awesome when one considers that a unique movement was set in motion over 2,000 years ago, founded on a bunch of rural yokels of no great intellectual accomplishments, whose one saving grace was their belief in the deity of this strange Man from Galilee.

It's de rigeur nowadays to disparage the Catholic Church, to question her teachings, to deplore the abuses which have come to light in the last decade but which just seems to keep plugging along in spite of it all. If there is not something majestic in this and not just a little miraculous, I don't know what it would be. In the face of death, persecution, and suffering the Church grew by leaps and bounds with only the Divine Promise of an eternity of joy if we would but repent and believe.

Upon contemplation of that sweeping vista I was struck by the tragedy that so many turn their backs on His offer. Go figure.

God Is So Good To Us

JMJ. At first I thought that 2010 was off to a rotten start. One of our adopted ferrets, Chloe, had to be put to sleep yesterday. Here I am, almost 62 years old, and I still feel more comfortable saying, "put to sleep" instead of "put down" or euthanised. She had been living with cancer in her abdomen for over six months but it was only the last month or so that saw a sharp decline in her spirits. She just wasn't as involved in playing with her buddy, Casper, as she once was. I'm sure I'm just anthropomorphising but it seems that there is more courage in their little bodies than in some adult humans of my acquaintance.

Only a week ago my AFS sister (from Japan) who lived with us over 30 years ago wrote to say that her father had died of cancer and complications of pneumonia. She grieved with us when my mom died and we grieve with her at the loss of her father. Only a few months ago my Linda's mom died, too. All of these were expected but all of them were so difficult. All of these losses, I had thought, would leave a vast hole in our hearts.

But on mature reflection (I've been known to do that once or twice) I realised how great and merciful our God is. He taketh away with one hand while giving us the strength to bear with our losses, and gives us kisses on our cheeks to show us His love.How? Ok, I'm glad you asked so I'll tell you.

Some time ago I felt that I was being called on to leave my present job and take one with the local Catholic Charity hospice, Holy Family Home. Several times now I've volunteered my time on days off and have found it to be one of the most loving and wonderful things a nurse could do. I am in awe at the impact that one person can in the life and death of another.

A lady from the Cleveland ferret rescue service is bringing us a young furball tomorrow to see how she and Casper get along. He needs someone young to help him learn to play again. His humans love him but no one knows how to play like another ferret.

I went to the web-site of the Manhattan Declaration just a little while ago. The signings had seemed to be slowing down over the last few weeks. The number was up to 310,000 or so but kind of creeping along whereas before it was bounding. Much to my surprise the total is up over