Franciscan Focus

Just a simple blog of a Secular Franciscan trying to live life with a Franciscan focus.

05 August 2009

Abbott and Costello Pray the Rosary 

Ah, the Rosary. A fragrant offering of prayer, an oasis of contemplation, and a sacrifice of praises to God.

Well, not always.

Some time ago, while Husband Mike and I were praying the Rosary together 'afore bed, we had the following exchange. Background Note: I was suffering from a severe cold at the time that included coughing, a nonstop runny nose, and a Gigumbous Amount of postnasal drippage that had the unfortunate side effect of, ah ... triggering lots of burping. (Am I the only one who belches because of that? Please tell me I'm not alone.)

Husband Mike: "Hail Mary, full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women --"

Me: "Haaaaacccccckkkkkkk, cough, gasp, wheeze." (sheepish look) "Sorry."

HM: "-- Blessed art thou amongst women, and blessed --"

Me: (reaching for the tissues) "Hooooooooonnnnnnnnnk." (pause, during which Husband Mike made an attempt to continue) "Hooooooonnnk."

HM: "Are you finished?"

Me: (nodding)

Repeat preceding exchange several times throughout the decades, accompanied by a growing pile of tissues.

HM: "... Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven."

Me: (taking a breath before starting my part) "BRAAAAAAAAPPPPPPPPP!"

After a split-second of shocked silence, we burst into laughter.

HM: "The Sorrowful Mysteries!" (gasping) "We're supposed to be meditating on Christ's suffering and death!"

Me: "I know, I know!"

We were both laughing so hard we were crying. Which, in my case, caused my nose to stuff up even more, triggering more honking and a flurry of tissues.

After several false starts, we pulled ourselves together and resumed praying. Then, into the last decade ...

HM: "... The fifth Sorrowful Mystery: Jesus is crucified and dies. Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name. Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven." (waiting for me to respond)

Me: (lost in thought imagining the pain of the nails as they're pounded into Christ's hands)

HM: (elbows my side)

Me: (jumping) "What?!" (lightbulb) "Oh! Give us this day our daily bread ..."

As we both burst into laughter again, Husband Mike wheezed, "Christ is dying, here!"

"I KNOW! I was thinking about the nails!" I wailed. "Nails!"

101 Inspirational Stories of the Rosary-worthy, we are not.

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10 May 2009

Married bliss vignette #4,581 

Me: (walking into room where Husband Mike's on the computer) "OK, my saddlebags an' I are heading out for a run."

Husband Mike: (eyeing said saddlebags) "Hey, are those like camel humps where they retain water for long periods of time?"

No, I didn't hit him.

* * *

Hey, so it's been ages since I last posted, and as you may have picked up in the vignette above, I've finally gotten back into runnin' and working out. (Have lost over 20 lbs. since the end of January, woohoo!) That means the bulk o' my free time has been spent doing aerobics, strength training, and runnin' (hope to do a 5k fun run in July), and less so with writing and fiddlin' around online.

Also, thanks to my pal, Jasmine, when I am on the 'puter, I've kinda' sorta' gotten addicted to playing Bejeweled Blitz. (Curse you, Jasmine! ::shakes fist in air::) :-P Aaaand, quite frankly, I'm lazy. I've got plenty of posting ideas bouncin' around in my noggin, I'm just too lazy to cobble them all together into coherent posts here. Will try to be better about this, but no promises. :-D

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03 January 2009

Married bliss vignette #3,218 

Me: (entering a room from which Husband Mike had just left) "Ewww! Hey! Why didn't you warn me about the cat puke in here?! I just stepped in it!"

Husband Mike: "What? What cat puke?" (wanders back into room and examines the puke, which is more like spittle) "Oh, that's nothing. It's just a prelude to a hairball." (moves around the room, looking in corners) "Ah! Here's the hairball, over by this cord."

When joyfully making your wedding vows, you never imagine conversations like that in your future.

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10 October 2008

Ten years of marriage! 

Papal Blessing from Pope John Paul II on the occasion of our wedding

[On the wedding night, Sarah] got up, and [she and Tobiah] started to pray and beg that deliverance might be theirs. He began with these words: "Blessed are you, O God of our fathers; praised be your name forever and ever. Let the heavens and all your creation praise you forever.

"You made Adam and you gave him his wife Eve to be his help and support; and from these two the human race descended. You said, 'It is not good for the man to be alone; let us make him a partner like himself.'

"Now, Lord, you know that I take this wife of mine not because of lust, but for a noble purpose. Call down your mercy on me and on her, and allow us to live together to a happy old age." (Tobit 8:57; the First Reading at our Wedding Mass)

Ten years ago today, Husband Mike and I were joined together in the Sacrament of Holy Matrimony. Pretty astonishing to think that this makes a full decade ... 10 years' worth of serious and silly arguments. Sicknesses, surgeries, and stress. Scintillating conversations with topics like, "Why Are There Toenail Clippings All Over The Bathroom Floor?!", "It's Your Turn To Clean The Cat Litter", "What Do You Think, Are Those Leaves In That Hairball?", and "Wake Up, The Cat Just Puked In The Bed".

Silent treatments. Slapstick hilarity at 3 a.m. Funerals, weddings, baptisms, and First Communions. Anxious hours spent in emergency animal clinics with ill cats. Vacations, car purchases, joint tax refunds. Midnight pharmacy runs to soothe each others' coughing misery. Struggles to communicate. Lugging out the recyclables. Laundry. Snuggling close on cold nights.

Ten years ... what brought us this far, especially through the times of harrowing marital "dark nights of the soul"? The graces received from the Sacrament of Matrimony itself, obviously. But I also wonder if our Papal Blessing (see above picture) played a part ...

Ten years ago, I had only recently moved out of my Raging-Feminist-I-Hate-The-Evil-Bad-Patriarchal-Church mindset and back into the faith as a (then, not now!) semi-cranky, Cafeteria Catholic. Why I took to the idea of having the Holy Father bless our wedding, I don't know; my history certainly didn't explain it. And nobody in either of our families had ever had or heard of them. All I know is that when I read about the blessings in some planning-your-Catholic-wedding-type book, I immediately knew we had to have one.

And so, after mailing off the form, and lots and lots of waiting, we got our blessing. Since then, not a day has passed without me looking at it hanging there on the wall and thinking (however briefly) about how our marriage has something more surrounding it than just our love.

Now, I know that the Holy Father didn't personally have us in mind with the blessing; I'm sure it was part of a general blessing to cover a multitude of occasions and people. Still, I suspect his pledge of "divine graces and protection" to us has counted for something.

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12 November 2007

A brief reflection on "fraternity" 

As part of my fraternity's monthly gathering, the professed brothers and sisters participate in Ongoing Formation. The way each fraternity handles Ongoing Formation varies; ours involves reading a chapter in a formation textbook, then discussing one of the associated questions for reflection.

This month's question was, "What does 'fraternity' mean to you?"

For me, it means being part of a bonus "Domestic Church" -- just as the family is the basic unit of society, the fraternity "becomes the basic unit of the whole Order and a visible sign of the Church, the community of love. This should be the privileged place for developing a sense of Church and the Franciscan vocation and for enlivening the apostolic life of its members." (Rule, Article 22) In other words, it's family, second only to my blood/marriage one.

And since we're family, that's how I refer to my fellow seculars. For example, when speaking about my Franciscan brothers or sisters, I don't say, "I'm going to Mass tomorrow with a friend." "Friend" doesn't do the relationship justice -- it just doesn't quite fit. Something's lacking and imprecise. When I first entered the Order, I tried that and the word always felt wrong, somehow.

Instead, I'll say, "I'm going to Mass tomorrow with one of my Franciscan sisters." Because that's the truth of it. And the beauty.

Hey, I said this was brief.

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07 November 2007

The Case of the Ferocious Floating Fluff 

Most folks, upon seeing a spidery houseguest, will immediately and unhesitatingly smash said arachnid. In our home, though, we have a "catch and release" system, 'cause we really don't cotton to the idea of killing a critter just 'cause it happened to get into our abode. (Only Exception: Roachy-type buggers. Sorry, God, I know all things are fearfully and wonderfully made 'n' all, but we draw the line at the roach-esque.)

So, earlier this evening, Husband Mike noticed a spider on the wall, thus activating the Spider Relocation Protocol:
  1. Person who sees spider stares at it (little fellas seem to stay in place as long as they know you're watching 'em) and hollers at other person (Assistant) to fetch a glass and whatever index card sized piece o' paper happens to be on hand.
  2. Assistant delivers glass and paper to Spider Starer.
  3. Spider Starer places glass over spider, then slowly slides paper underneath glass in order to safely trap the spider inside.
  4. While #3 is in progress, Assistant heads over to the sliding balcony doors and a) pulls aside the blinds, b) unlocks and slides open door, and c) turns on balcony light (if it's dark out).
  5. Spider Starer, who is now the Spider Transporter, holds paper on top of glass and heads out onto the balcony. Once there, Spider Transporter gently shakes the spider out of the glass, then returns inside. Relocation Complete!
At least, that's how it's supposed to work.

However, we had a bit of a snafu during Step 5 tonight. As Husband Mike was walking towards the balcony, he suddenly let out a gigumbous "AAAUUUGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!", leapt backwards, fell on his butt, and sent the Glass With Spider a-flyin' through the air. Which, of course, knocked the spider outta the glass and off who-knows-where.

What the bloody heck happened?!

Apparently, Husband Mike saw some sort of floating bit of fluff in the air Right In Front Of His Face, somehow thought the spider had gotten out of the glass (it hadn't), and immediately Freaked Out at thinking the spider was swinging at him.

So, now we have a seriously shaken-up spider on the lam somewhere. And Husband Mike has a slightly bruised toe. (Landed funny and somehow mashed it.)

Life's a thrill a minute 'round these here parts. :-P

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12 October 2007

Reason #157,984 why I love my husband 

As Husband Mike will readily attest, I'm about as far away from an Early Bird as you could possibly get without leaving the Milky Way galaxy. Worms have never been threatened by me; heck, every morning they could dance a raucous conga line across my bed completely unscathed.

This means that I never get up early unless I absolutely, positively have to. Unfortunately, today was one of those days due to an early *%&$! meeting at the office.

Much bleary-eyed bumbling around ensued as I got ready this morning, but no major goofs -- didn't put my bra on backwards (yes, it's happened), avoided dribbling toothpaste down my shirt, and no cats were stepped on or tripped over.

So, when I arrived at the office, I congratulated myself on Successfully Arriving Early until I looked around the car and realized ... no purse.

I'd driven all the way to work without my purse, which contained my wallet, which meant that my driver's license within said wallet was at home.

I stomped up to my cubicle and immediately called Husband Mike.

Husband Mike: "Hello?"

Me: "Bring me my purse."

HM: "Uh ... what? I thought I saw you leave with it."

Me: "Nope, not in car. Forgot it."

HM: "You idiot."

He dutifully drove over to hand-deliver my purse, which (silver lining) gave me an excuse to end this morning's meeting a few minutes early. ("Oh, pardon me, my husband's in the lobby with my purse. Yeah, I forgot it.")

In the lobby, the receptionist smirked when Husband Mike held out my purse. My large, Bright Pink, plastered-with-a-kitten purse.

I love my husband.

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05 October 2007

Married bliss vignette 

Last night, as we were settling in to sleep, The B began kneading my stomach. Cats often knead as a way of expressing contentment, and The B's preferred spot is my stomach.

Husband Mike, watching The B's paws mooshing said stomach, observed, "It's like you're a gigantic stress ball toy. Only thing missing is your eyes bugging out."

Yeah. You know you're Way Long Past the newlywed stage when yer spouse says stuff like that.

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08 July 2007

What a week 

So, I finally used some of my vacation time and took this past week off. Husband Mike and I didn't have any set plans; we were just gonna play things by ear, take things easy.

And then he started sniffling and sneezing last Sunday. And had a fever on Monday. Then came the aches, lack of appetite, painful chest congestion, and coughing. All. Week. Long. I swear, I haven't made as much chicken soup during these last few days as I have over the past 5 years!

Yeah, I could've gone out and done things on my own this week, but with Husband Mike hackin' up his lungs and looking miserable, my interest in doing anything productive or vacationy completely shriveled up. All I could do was rub his aches, plump pillows, cook batches of chicken soup, and run out to the store for ginger ale, Jell-O, and Mucinex.

I awkwardly tried to figure out how best to help him, because Husband Mike's a Stoic Iron Man who always soldiers on, stiff upper lip and all that, and has never been one to complain about or admit to any physical discomfort when ill. Your typical "It's just a flesh wound" guy. (I, on the other hand, turn into a ginormous baby when sick.) I curled up next to him whenever he tried to sleep and, when awake, I ping-ponged between the extremes of hovering around him uselessly, then attempting to give him space by banishing myself from being in the same room as him.

So, I guess you could say this week was a complete bust. No swimming, walking, or bird-watching. No short day trips. No ambitious chores done, no books read, no Rosaries knotted, no great things accomplished. A complete waste of my vacation.

:::sigh:::

Or ... perhaps ... it was exactly how I was meant to spend my time.

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23 April 2007

Real saints carry swords? 

While celebrating Youngest Nephew's First Communion this weekend ('twas loverly), talk turned to his newest saint medal, which he'd recently picked out while shopping with his mom.

He already had one for St. George, which sports the standard "slaying-the-dragon" image, and the new one is St. Michael the Archangel, who's in the usual "standing-on-the-devil-with-drawn-sword" pose. Whole lotta' swordage goin' on.

Grandma asked him, "So, did you see any medals of St. [insert patron saint name here]?"

Before Youngest Nephew could reply, Oldest Nephew asked, "Who'd he slay?"

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11 January 2007

Have Rosary, will travel 

This past Tuesday as I was plugging along, prayin' the Rosary before falling asleep, a pretty firm thought came to me out o' the blue: "Go pray the Rosary with your mom".

Huh, I thought, that's interesting. And completely out of character for our relationship, since we never, ever prayed the Rosary together while I was growing up.

We were one of those "Catholic In Name Only" families -- we went to Sunday Mass and I got all the Sacraments like I was supposed to, but that was it. The faith was something we didn't talk about or live in any sort of meaningful way. (In fact, I taught myself how to pray the Rosary as a tyke when, rummaging through the dining room cabinet, I came across my grandmother's Rosary and was immediately drawn to it. Mind you, I didn't pray it with any sort of regularity, but every so often, I took out my little blue Daughters of St. Paul Basic Prayers pamphlet and tried to follow its Rosary instructions.)

This was also unexpected because I had a wholly craptastical childhood. As a result, the usual mom-daughter relationship never existed between us, and it's been an ongoing struggle to develop what relationship we do have.

You can see why this thought of praying with my mom caught me by surprise.

But, no matter the weirdness, I resolved to act on it because a few years ago I learned the hard way that when God nudges, you'd better act: Some months before my dad died, I kept getting persistent thoughts of "You should call your dad", which I knew I should do. However, my relationship with him was even worse than my mom's (see aforementioned crapulent childhood), and I had zero inclination to talk with him. And since he lived half a continent away, talking by phone was really our only point of contact.

So when that late-night call came from my brother, I knew at the first ring who was calling and why, and also instantly regretted having ignored the promptings to talk with my dad.

Anyway, if ya think I was surprised, imagine how my mom felt when I called her yesterday about this. She was astounded ... and delighted. Why, of course I could come right over! What a great idea for us to pray together! And it was a great idea.

The visit was brief, but praying together -- actually sitting down, pulling out our Rosaries, and praying together -- was a definite step forward in healing. No, it wasn't anything grandiose; no trumpets sounded, no Deep Mom-Daughter Moment happened, but it moved us forward One More Step. It was, at least, Something.

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05 July 2006

A bit o' aunterly bragging 

Jes' put up with me for a bit, 'cause I gotta brag about how smart my Oldest Nephew is. :-)

As it was Independence Day (4 July) here in the States yesterday, the family got together for the usual Celebratory Dinner And Socializing. Since Oldest Nephew was gonna be there, I figured I'd ask him for strategy suggestions on a Sudoku puzzle (rated "Hard") that had me stumped. Oldest Nephew -- who's 10 years old -- is a Kick-Butt Puzzle Whiz, and he's really good at solving Sudoku puzzles.

Lemme tell ya, Oldest Nephew took one look at the problematic puzzle and immediately found something I hadn't even noticed. (Did I mention he's 10?) So, we spent the next few minutes working together on the thing, with him helpfully speaking out loud his strategy/thought process as we went. I hadn't even asked him to think out loud, he just did so on his own, which was helpful and thoughtful.

And that's not the only impressive thing about Oldest Nephew. The kid is amazingly knowledgeable about all kinds of insects, reptiles, sharks, dinosaurs, and other Big Chompy Creatures. For example, he can look at most any dinosaur picture and tell you its scientific name, what it ate, where it lived, how it acted ... you name it. He's like a walking encyclopedia and is always happy and eager to share what he knows.

So, there ya go. Aunterly bragging done. :-)

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