Solo Dios

God alone suffices she said
and I do believe that's true
in spite of that I create false gods
of every variety and hue

The one and only God is often
pushed to a corner of my heart
while these idols of every sort
tear my faith apart

aren't they pretty and aren't they kind
don't they seem to draw me to You
don't they say lovely things to enchant me
while subtly blocking Your view

they must be terribly bored
with the value of greatness I've placed
upon them so undeservedly
while making my life a waste

maybe they pity this girl
who creates idols so easily
when the only One who matters
is treated so poorly by me

please God push all of these idols
off the pedestals that I've made
where they teeter so precariously
and let their memories ever fade

smash my desire for them into pieces
so never again will they be
in my simple imagination
the most important deity

let me bury them with my tears
made of longing and disgust
and place all my love in You
who is worthy of all my trust

God alone will suffice for me
let the false idols try as they might
my heart yearns to be true
to my heavenly Father of light

be sufficient for me Lord
be all I ever need
solo Dios basta
is my constant prayer and creed

Courageous

Last spring my husband and I had the opportunity to preview the movie Courageous which was made by a group that is working to to put out movies with a positive Christian message and hopefully impact the world of Hollywood, proving that with the success of this movie, Americans are hungry for good, decent stories with positive messages that are free of the excessive sex, violence and profanity with which we are normally deluded when going to see a movie.

When Paul and I arrived at the theater, we were given a "goody-bag" filled with promotional items and a tee-shirt. When the movie was over, another movie-goer commented that there was something very important that was missing from the "goody-bag'; a box of tissues. I was actually thinking the same thing, because from the very first powerfully opening scene I was emotionally caught up in the lives of the main characters-their hurts, sorrows and joys all felt like my own-and everyone in the theater was frequently moved to tears followed by bursts of laughter.

Courageous offered plenty of exciting action coupled with touching scenes of family life during some of the most difficult situations that life has to offer. The characters were "real"-I felt as if I could relate to them and their family situations. While watching a scene where one of the families was grieving together, I couldn't help but think that these are the real-life saints of today, people who step through their suffering to improve their lives and the lives of those around them. And looking over to my husband at the end of the film, I was struck by the realization that Paul is a living saint, an excellent father who already knows the importance of spending time with his children, of being a strong disciplinarian, and of encouraging our children to live their lives with the purpose of giving glory to God in all they do. And more than that, I also realized how blessed we are in the Catholic Church to have spiritual fathers, our priests, who spend their lives promoting the same values that were fostered in this film: love, integrity, spiritual friendships, and a strong faith in God.

Courageous is finally out in theaters starting today, September 30th and I encourage you to see it. Without a doubt it was the best and most powerful movie that I have ever seen and just watching the trailer, I found that I once again had a lump in my throat and tears in my eyes recalling the story that calls all fathers to be Courageous in their vocation.

(a partial re-post from the archives)

Boulevard of Broken Dreams

"We provoked the 9/11 attacks." It was the statement that sent Tony Bennet's name across the web in a flurry of hate speech. Anger and denial. The two go hand-in-hand. It's part of that egotistical and insecure mentality that's swept America. No one wants to be wrong, and these people go to great lengths to avoid the biting reality underneath the illusory veil.

Behind every fantasy, there is a businessman. Behind every advertisement, there is a trained marketing guru. Always hidden behind pretty colors and savory, fantastical lifestyles they remain - vampires feeding off of us as we sleep. To them, life itself is a commodity that can be bought and sold. It is expendable, and in some cases, life need not exist. It's all at their choosing as they run the casino we find ourselves shuffling about in, succumbing to the alluring, flashing lights of the games. Sometimes they let chance throw us a bone, but in the end, they're robbing us. We cannot leave the casino unless we die, and the longer we stay, the better the odds are for the house winning.

"His luck ran out. Yours is just beginning," read the billboard of Wild Bill Hicock just outside of Deadwood, South Dakota. It was one of the first signs of life driving down 90. Most of the land for miles and miles was flat prairie. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. No pulse. No curvature to the pummeled Earth until Deadwood nears, until the Black Hills muck up the terrain with color and ludicrous landscaping.

There used to be gold in those hills that gave rise to many of the towns out here, further giving rise to the legends of rampant lawlessness in the Old West that are mere whispers today. Nobody likes that genre anymore unless "Old West" is a term meant to embody the current culture in the future post-apocalyptia we often fantasize about.

The end. The end. That neurotic beckoning call for our own dismal demise trumps all other calls - even the highly advertised mating call that permeates the air waves like so much sleazy jazz on a radio station that's hijacked all frequencies. Sex. Sex. The end. Sex. THE END IS NIGH!

Deadwood is Las Vegas for those looking for a more homogenized, white-bred, straight-shooter sort of crowd. It's the place where cross-national tour buses dump their geriatrics like useless rubbish. It's the Mecca of death for those wrinkled, gray-haired sacks of broken bones to wheeze their final breaths.

Then why was I here? I am only twenty-four years of age, born on the twenty-first day of July in nineteen eighty-seven. Today is the twenty-first day of September in two-thousand eleven. Exactly one year ago to the day I was also in Deadwood, passing through the more scenic route on my way to a mass family gathering in Utah. This happens once a year.

No, I am not Mormon. While I have respect for faith and spirituality, I staunchly oppose supporting institutions run by snarling businessmen, especially those seemingly founded as a means to guilt underage girls into sexual romps under God's watchful eyes.

"Deadwood: Where Legends Begin." This sign is more ornate than the last. Curved of stone, it is the first greeting to the actual town once one has slithered through the winding pass in the glorious Black Hills. Like Alice's trip in Wonderland, this snake-like canyon is the portal to a world of its own.


Matching jackets. The old geezers parked in front of me both had two pairs of matching jackets. Seemingly signifying an undying brotherhood, the mustachioed riders took off their "No. 10 Saloon" leathers for denims of the same design, smiling like gleeful children at each other during the process.

"It's going to be a fun night," the shorter, thinner one said to his husky, clean-shaven companion as they put their leathers away in small compartments on their motorcycles. Upon locking their bikes away for the evening, would passion seize them over the night of free inhibitions and endless spirits? Would they ride each other?

Not since J.R.R. Tolkien's words hit print have we seen the Frodo and Sam relationship fleshed out before us like a stage play, arising inconsequential questions in even the most supportive and open of us. Regardless of our stalwart opinions, we have to know. Advertisers have sold us clearly divided, niched, and marketable camps to identify with. In that case, sex is important, just like G.I. Joes are important to a child who knows not what violence is.

The End.

Beautiful. The waitresses at the No. 10 Saloon are always beautiful. Innocent and fearful, they arouse that protective spirit even amongst those who have only ordered one beer. Navigating the calm waters of the soon-to-be-deceased, my spirited eyes gazed majestically at these white-tailed nymphs. Their smiles were genuine, and their eyes were of a beaming, hopeful Nature that Walt Disney borrowed for years to subtly warm the hearts of his victims.

Last time I found myself perched upon a stool in the corner of the wooden bar, my feet grazing the sawdust floors, there were different servers. Yet, they were the same nymphs, eagerly awaiting a satyr to steal them away from this mausoleum. Am I that satyr? The spirits tell me yes.

Sex.

A lone woman sits at a bar hidden in the dark corner of one of the dozens of casinos lined up on Main Street in this town - population: one-thousand three-hundred and eighty. Lipstick circles her lips like a vulture as she gazes over at me. I have just walked up, drawn to the darkness by an advertisement for discount beer. Two dollars for Samuel Adams Octoberfest.

Deep ravines line this woman's face. Age has not been kind to her. Neither have cigarettes, but you need those to grow up in this town, watching all the bus loads of doddering corpses shuffle around, listening to their gurgles and wheezes past the midnight tolls. Secondhand smoke can be a killer, so they say.

Lipstick retracts into its cigar-shaped UFO, and hidden orbs follow me, shrouded by thick eye shadow. The wolf stalks its next meal, and the spirits have opened my inhibitions enough to where my defenses have been rendered a moot point - only if Johnny Appleseed is still awake.

The End.

The rivers of booze flow tonight. Gambling has been kind to me. Twenty-one hit twice on roulette, and four of a kind dealt into my hand at poker. I drink in your honor tonight, Lady Fate, as I smoked in your honor earlier, ashing my cuban Churchhill on the cemetery grounds of Mount Moriah.

Hiking up the steep slope of the Black Hills is beautiful in the Fall as it is in all seasons. Watching over the town from a plateau are the spirits of the Old West, whispering through the trees and down the rocky inclines.

Most tour buses stop at the gravesite of Wild Bill Hicock. Pictures are snapped, wheezes are echoed, and the geriatrics take solace in a historical monument they so fervently take pleasure in thinking about: graveyards.

Teevee told me that Hicock was a stand-up, no-nonsense gunslinger murdered by a punk kid with a nasty attitude. That was all I needed to know. Besides, the geriatrics don't like my presence at his grave. They fake cough at my stogie.

Did you know that the United States has exploded three-hundred and thirty-one nuclear devices in the atmosphere? This does not include the countless nukes on land, underground, or in the sea. It also does not include Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Those cannot, for the sake of sensitive humans, be considered nuclear tests, even though they were.

The most interesting grave at Mount Moriah is for some poor soul named 'Baby Cox'. Baby Cox died on August twenty-sixth, nineteen fifteen. I drink also for you, Baby Cox, for I understand the nature of your pain.

Another grave reads: "Child of Fee Lee Wong".


The moon passes its peak, and my stature has grown poorly. I have voluntarily succumbed to the mantra that seizes the tourists. It is in the casinos I now find myself firmly grounded, playing all sorts of games meant to bleed me dry.

Consume. Consume. Another beer sir? Keep the spirits high, and the highly spiritual will never question the intentions of the bloodsucker. Skinwalkers roam in the society of men, well-blended in a sea of tumultuous advertisements.

Was Tony Bennet right? Was our overbearing military presence around the globe more of a global occupation? In order to save his career, the lounge singer apologized. The news anchors can stop harassing him now.

Awaking from a coma, I promptly packed my bags and left Deadwood the next morning. My sobriety allowed the icy chill outside to pummel my pale face. A cold front had descended on the Black Hills, and I was without a jacket.

Climbing into my car outside the antiquated brick hotel, shadowed by the relics of a boom town gone mad with gaming and trinkets, Tony Bennet called to me. "Boulevard of Broken Dreams" echoed from the outside speakers in front of the main doors. Through the glass, doddering geriatrics bumped into each other, spilling styrofoam plates loaded with powdered eggs and processed ham. While the glass was thick, I could still hear them coughing and gurgling - the perfect audience for a lounge singer looking beyond the painted facade.

Tinkerbel Nail Designs : White Nail Polish

Tinkerbel Nail Art Designs : White Nail Polish. If you want to create your own nail design, you must have such equipment in the salon, you first clean the fingernails and scales until smooth, then polish your nails with white paint for the base color, then you stick a sticker on the nail bed fairy tinkerbell.

Angel of Prayer

On this feast of the angels St. Michael, St. Gabriel, and St. Raphael -an angelic repost from the archives...





















God has overcome me.

When my soul becomes so full
of the wonder of His presence
that I can no longer contain Him,
He overflows in the form of tears
spilling from my soul-windows during Holy Mass.
I bend to my knees in humble submission
to His glory.

I can feel His angels surround me,
and my guardian angel joins me in prayer.
She gently reaches into my heart
and takes my prayer into her hands.
She tenderly carries it to God,
and breathes my prayer into His heart.

Once the tears and the prayer
have been released from my heart and soul
to their proper Home, the heart of God,
peaceful exhaustion takes their place.

I simply rest in the Lord, my peace.

Nail Art Designs Skull With A Combination Of Black and White

Nail Art Designs Skull With A Combination Of Black and White.

Exuberance

On a monotonous morning at work with moms and babies and toddlers in and out of my office listening to my shpeel about iron rich foods, the importance of breastfeeding and how to deal with a picky eater, I was stopped short by a four-month-old baby with a smile from here to eternity. I was going on and on telling mom about how gastro-esophageal reflux is the diagnosis of the day and every baby has it; it's just a fancy word for spit-up and yes, it's messy, but her baby will outgrow it, and as long as he gains weight, he'll be just fine. This little guy was certainly gaining weight and appeared to be very healthy, but it was that smile and that laugh...THAT LAUGH...that really made my day.

Every time I opened my mouth to speak to mom, which was often, baby would laugh and smile. And I would stop talking to laugh and smile back at baby. And mom would smile and laugh along and then comment on how her son thought that I was talking to him instead of about him. And the three-year-old sister was busy playing with my pink barbie doll Volkswagen Beetle with the sunroof, trying to figure out how she could get inside of it instead of just simply push it around the floor. (Which, by the way, every toddler who comes into my office attempts to get into the car by sticking their foot into the sunroof and then into the side door. It really is quite amusing!)

Our entertaining visit was nearing an end and mom was getting up to leave when she mentioned that she needed to send for a copy of her daughter's birth certificate which she had misplaced and then casually let it drop that she couldn't get her family into a homeless shelter without it. For the first time I noticed the stressed look on her face. I asked her if she was staying with family and she vaguely answered "No. Just around." I invited her to sit down once again while I gave her all of the information that I had for emergency shelter, food, clothing and baby items, which always seems so inadequate when what I'd really like to do is stay with her and help her resolve all of her difficulties. I offered her my prayers and best wishes and she was on her way.

But her baby stayed on my mind. His exuberant smile and laughter must be such a blessing to his mother whether he spits up or not. I recalled the days when my children were babies and how the days at home could drag on forever-there was always a dirty floor that needed cleaning, a pail of diapers that needed washing, toys underfoot, temper tantrums raging (usually mine!), and loneliness for adult conversation. But when my babies would smile and laugh, it made all of the troubles so worth it! There's no denying that the mother in my office had some serious problems, but for a little while she was able to put those troubles aside and laugh with her baby. How blessed that mother is to have such a joyful little son and how blessed we all are by the precious gift of life that only God can create.

40 Days for Life begins today. Will you fast and pray to save the life of a precious little baby who can bring happiness and sunshine into this often lonely and difficult world?

Seeing the Light of Joy

"To be sure, those who believe in Jesus do not lead lives of perpetual sunshine, as though they could be spared suffering and hardship, but there is always a bright glimmer there, lighting up the path that leads to fullness of life. The eyes of those who believe in Christ see light even amid the darkest night and they already see the dawning of a new day." ~Pope Benedict XVI
(h/t to St. Francis de Sales seminarian Patrick Burns)













For four years I've been in and out of a depressive state and have put up what I thought was a valiant fight against it. I've followed all the standard advice in an attempt to reclaim my joy once and for all-I've taken antidepressants and on more than one occasion have thrown the bottle of pills across the room in disgust at their uselessness and side effects that continue to leave me trembling almost a full year since I've discontinued their use. I've exercised, sought out counseling, read a ton of books on how to be a joyful person, and, of course, prayed.

The depression and anxiety remain which has finally brought me to the belief that I should stop the valiant fight and accept my state of mind as God's will for me. This is who I am and God wants to somehow use my sorrow and stress for His glory in a way that I cannot understand in this lifetime.

At the same time, I know that the best way to draw others to God, or to anything for that matter, is through joy. After all, a sour face isn't very attractive and if the world around me knows that I am a believer but my sad facial expressions and teary eyes are all they see when they look at me, they will question my faith and not be drawn to follow suit. Why would anyone want to be a Catholic if those who claim the faith seem to be so miserable?

I recently received the book Between Heaven and Mirth, by Fr. James Martin, as a gift from the publisher in exchange for my review (which is coming up in October). In reading the book, Fr. Martin mentions again and again how unbecoming it is for Christians to be forever serious and he urges the readers to lighten up.

Of course, while I agree with his reasoning, reading books like his and listening to those who try to be helpful with simple expressions like "Just be happy" and "Smile, nothing could be that bad" only serve to make me feel guilty because I so badly want to be a happy and joyful person, but it just doesn't seem to be in my nature and a permanent joy is forever elusive to me. I used to think that if I couldn't stay true to my lenten sacrifices then it was a sign that I didn't have a sincere love of God. Not being able to reflect the joy of Christ through my sorrow leaves me feeling the same way. I wonder what might be wrong with me that I just can't "get my act together" and be happy. There are days where it is just impossible to shine the light of Christ through a joyful attitude when all I feel is emotional pain.

I often find myself looking for ways to numb all that hurts within me through overwork, overeating, overdrinking, etc. in an effort to put an end to it, to feel nothing. Recently the question was put to me, "If you don't feel the pain, you won't feel the joy and happiness either. Wouldn't you miss that?" And my response to that would be that there is no joy that isn't tinged with sorrow.

The Flip Side

Looking at that rationale, I have to admit that there also is no sorrow that isn't tinged with joy. In all of life, in every event and situation, joy and sorrow go hand in hand, they are intertwined and inseparable. Like my dad used to say "You have to take the bad with the good."

I came across this excellent post by Heather King which explains that theory very clearly:

"...That, to me, is the heart of Christ, and to also call it joy might sound strange. But joy, unlike pleasure, always seems to have suffering--and a cognizance that other people suffer--in the middle of it. You don't diminish or minimize the significance and extent of your suffering. You don't say it's okay to hurt me. You don't voluntarily put yourself in a position to be hurt. But if being hurt is inevitable (and as human beings, we are always being hurt one way or another) you are somehow able to keep a tolerant uncritical awareness of the other--whether the
other is the world, an institution or organization, a family member, or a stranger. You are able to see the other as something other than the enemy. You are able to keep the other's humanity in mind because you know that is the way to safeguard your own humanity. That a child would be capable of such a feat when all it takes for me to forget people's humanity is a red light or two humbles me to the ground.

Maybe the childlike heart, as is so often the case, is the key. Because the child, though he or she suffers, has usually not yet made his or her organizing principle fear. Fear leaches us of joy. Fear makes us humorless and one-dimensional. Fear makes a keloid scar over our heart and makes us forget how much we long for human communion. Fear makes us forget to pay attention to the beauty with which we're surrounded because it's sucked all our attention to itself."

~Heather King, Shirt of Flame (read it all-it's excellent)

So, I will continue to work at lifting the foggy veil that surrounds my life by fighting fear, not sorrow. I will learn to accept both sorrow and joy and when sadness drags me down, I will courageously search for the joy within it and cling to that as a gift from God who loves me and wants me to serve Him in all things. I will learn to smile through my tears. Like St. Paul's thorn, God is not going to take my depression away and I must learn to offer it to him as a sacrifice of love trusting that He will use it for His ultimate glory in a way that only He can understand.

"Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me. Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." 2 Corinthians 12:7-11

Nicole by OPI Nail Design inspiration

My last week of being Nicole by OPI'S spotlight blogger is coming to an end. I've had so much fun, and its been extremely incredible. I'm supper grateful and very honored that i got to be the blogger of the month. As a thank you to Nicole by OPI i did a special design dedicated to these polishes that have helped me discover my true passion. Thank you for everything Nicole by OPI this was truly an amazing adventure.

Everything was hand drawn, and sculpted in 3D art even the little polishes

Used: Nicole by OPI 'Make a Comet-ment, and 'Enchantress'

A Simple Life

My beautiful friend Danette and I took a Saturday morning sunrise stroll along Lake Michigan for sea glass searching, coffee sipping, and sharing stories of our hearts when she observed-"Your life is so simple."

Nodding in agreement to that fact and thinking that she was referring to what appears to be a low-stress life on the outside, I began reciting the litany of my many known and normal blessings-a beautiful and good family, physical health, a meaningful job that I enjoy when she interrupted,"That's not what I mean. Your life is simple because it isn't filled with secular interests, nothing seems to concern you that isn't of God."

I wish it were that easy and I find it interesting that she sees me that way when in my mind the things of God are rarely simple; I frequently agonize over how difficult it is to achieve holiness and I often struggle because I can't feel the constant presence of God. If it's true that my life is simple, then I would categorize it as an intensely simple life-for everything that is of God doesn't just gently dwell within my soul, but rather, it rages inside ravaging my spirit with deep emotion.


On Sunday afternoon my daughter and I went shopping for new dress pants and shoes. I thought, here's a nice, normal secular activity and quite an enjoyable time with my daughter, too. But, difficult! Why is it that very few stores carry respectable dress pants for ten-year-old girls? Everything was tight, ripped or shiny like a rock star would wear. Finally, after visiting four stores, we found some decent pants with a matching shirt and sweater that we both could agree upon. While checking out, the clerk asked if the outfit was meant for a special occasion. I answered that it was for wearing to church on Sundays, which, as a matter of fact, is always a special occasion.

As we were driving home, Mary asked if she could take off her moccasins and put on her new black shoes right away. I told her that she should save them for church only. She complained that she didn't want to wait a whole week to wear her new shoes to which I replied that we could go to church right now if she wanted to and we both laughed, but wouldn't that have been a touching way to show our gratitude to God for the gift of our afternoon together? My daughter is a gem, but I see that our secular shopping trip was indeed tinged with talk of God and giving Him glory with proper dress when we visit Him in His house.

So, maybe Danette was right after all-I do have a simple life with the presence of God affecting every little detail, but it's me who often denies that simplicity by pushing so hard for more than what I have been given and for dwelling too long on the challenges instead of showing thankfulness for the joys.

Joining Ann at A Holy Experience and giving thanks to God for these simple blessings:

~early fall colors
~picking the last of the grapes for the season
~concord grape pie
~inviting a lonely friend from church to share dinner and a Packer football game with us
~the Heimlich maneuver!
~the laughter of my daughter
~the prayer of absolution and forgiveness of my sins
~Eucharistic Adoration and the beautiful gift of His Body and Blood
~learning about the value of redemptive suffering
~rain to nourish the earth
~husband's arms gently holding me in the night when tears fall
~receiving a long-awaited letter in the mail with an opportunity to serve the Lord ever more deeply
~George Winston's Autumn CD
~serving on the Respect Life Committee and working to save lives
~a treasured friendship and a Saturday morning walk

3D Nail Art Designs Ideas : Vector Blue, Red, White and Black

3D Nail Art Designs Ideas : Vector Blue, Red, White and Black. You like the unique or elegant nail design..?? If you want to create your own nail designs, you must have such equipment in the salon, you will first clean your nails thoroughly, then to polish the nails with a base paint color, then you take the white paint to form a vector, or you can use nail stickers.

Fruit Plate Nail Art Designs : Pineapple Yellow Smile

Fruit Plate Nail Art Designs : Pineapple Yellow Smile.

White Nail Designs For Men : Skull Head Pictures

White Nail Designs : Skull Head Pictures.

Animals Nail Art Designs : Black Spider

Animals Nail Art Designs Ideas Pictures : Black Spider.

Transparent Nail Art Designs Ideas : Nail Shape Saws

Transparent Nail Art Designs Ideas : Nail Shape Saws.

A Top for the Child Jesus

In the early morning hours when sleep is elusive and prayer is dry, I take great comfort in reading the words of wisdom that I find here in the world of Catholic blogs. I am always amazed at the vast wealth of holiness that is revealed through the words of so many faithful people and one look at my blogroll will reveal many (though not all) of the blogs that uplift my soul day after day.

One blog in particular, has been wielding an influence on my faith quite distinctly these days. Patricia at I Want to See God has a deep devotion to St. Therese and her posts are filled with words of wisdom and love from this very special saint. It was through the inspiration of Patricia that I was led to check out a stack of books written by or about St. Therese from the Salzmann Library at St. Francis de Sales Seminary, and although those books are long past overdue, I just can't seem to part with them and am finding little gems in each of the books that move my heart towards a deeper love of God.

I am particularly fond of reading books that are compilations of letters written by the saints. In personal letters, I feel that the real day to day lives and emotions of the saints are reflected most clearly, so I am especially enjoying The Collected Letters of St. Therese of Lisieux and have been deeply moved by the letters that she wrote in the last year of her life while she was in intense pain. Although her faith was mature beyond her years, St. Therese had a child-like love for the Lord and would often refer to herself as a toy for the Child Jesus.

The following letter of St. Therese was written to Sister Marie of the Trinity, and in the whole book of letters, I found this one to be the most charming and the most meaningful. Sister Marie liked to play a game called "Skittles" and had recently taught the novices how to play with a top. That night, St. Therese left the top and the following letter in Sister Marie's cell:

"My dearest little Bride, Oh! how pleased I am with you...All through the year you have entertained me vastly with your skittles. I enjoyed it so much that the angelic court was surprised and delighted, more than one of the smaller Cherubim asked me why I had not made him a child...more than one went on to ask me if I didn't like the melody of his harp better than your joyous laugh when you knocked down a skittle with the ball you called love? I answered my little Cherubim that they must not worry about not being children, because one day they would be able to play with you in the fields of heaven, and I told them that certainly your smile was lovelier to me than their melodies, because you could not play and smile except by suffering, by forgetting yourself.

Beloved little Bride, I have a request to make, you will not refuse me?...Oh, no! you love me too well. So-I confess I should like a change of game; skittles are great fun, but now I want to play at tops, and you shall be my top. I give you one for a model, it isn't beautiful, anyone who didn't know what to do with it would kick it out of his way, but a child would leap for joy to see it; he would say: "Ah! isn't it fun, it can keep on going all day and never stop."

I, the Child Jesus, love you, though you have no charm, and I beg you to keep on going to entertain me...But to keep the top going, it must be whipped...So, let the sisters do you this favor, and be grateful to those who are the most assiduous in keeping you from slowing down. When I have had enough pleasure from you, I shall bring you up there, and we can play with no suffering. Your little Brother Jesus.

May we all become a "top" for Jesus. May we endure and keep going without slowing down; to allow ourselves to be whipped by suffering knowing that it pleases the Child Jesus, with the understanding that one day we will be with him in a place of eternal play without suffering.

You may also enjoy these words of wisdom written by another child, my son, John, at his blog, Writings of a Boy Discerning God's Call.

Hollywood Movie Titles Nail Designs

Hollywood movie titles nail designs picture. Nail is the most important part for a woman, have beautiful nails in the world is a woman's dream. Whether you prefer your nail polish..?? Nail designs includes a unique design, because the nails are extremely rare form of we meet.

If you want to create your nail designs , you must have such equipment in the salon, you first clean the fingernails, then to polish the nails with the color black to paint the base color nail designs, then you take the pink paint to write the title of the film and give the jewels accessories.

Synchronicity Strikes Again

Zither music softly sweetens my room as I wind down for the day. I can feel it numbing my arms, lowering my heart rate, and slowing my breathing to a deeper, gentler rhythm. Rarely heard, it's a beautiful stringed instrument that deserves more exposure, one that can become a remedy for a heavy soul. Through the vibrations strummed by a well-choreographed hand, the world's a little bit brighter. The moon glows with increased richness and illumination.

I bought this CD off a small band playing at Oktoberfest in Glendale, Wisconsin over the weekend. Originally intending to drink myself shit-faced with imported German beers, I found myself parked around a small tent, resting under a tree with a stein in hand. I listened intently as one of the performers plucked the strings of a zither in conjunction with a guitar and accordion, and I felt my fingers plucking along, intertwining within the blades of grass around me.

Never before had I heard a zither outside of the soundtrack for The Third Man, one of my favorite films. I would know it too, if I had. The instrument has a very distinct sound - a very magical sound. Had I been paying attention to my surroundings, I probably would have seen sprites float up from the grass, dancing with each other under the setting sun as the band played on the outer skirts of the festival.

Magical. That's a fantastic word to describe that moment. It was an emotion that rarely finds me, and when it does, it's usually when I least expect it too. For that night, I just wanted to toss my mind in the throes of alcohol. I wanted to permit the liquid spirits to overcome me and play out an adventure that I would later remember in fragmented flashbacks.

However, synchronicity would have its way with me. The reason I purchase the CD and listened to the band was because of the zither. Walking by, bratwurst in hand, I thought I heard that rare instrument coming from the tent. Wishing to reaffirm my ego and prove my hypothesis correct, I stood near a tree just outside the tent and watched for a moment as one song ended and a new one started up.

It was the theme for The Third Man. Weird. I had never heard that before publicly, and I've spent many weekends at various German festivals and other cultural festivals, listening to more ethnic music. Also, I loved that song. Upon seeing the movie for the first time, I promptly downloaded it illegally and played it on repeat for hours on end, soaking in its harmony like one would a hot bath.



The next song played was Lili Marlene. I froze. Every festival I have attended that could have had the opportunity to play this song at some point, never did. I was always disappointed because out of all the old German songs I had on CD, Lili Marlene was often ignored. Yet, here it was, back-to-back with one of my favorite movie themes. How strange is it that two of my favorite, yet rarely heard, songs are played in conjunction like that with a zither no less?!



My mind is prone to add meaning to events like these. It's prone to take these magical moments and look at them through a mystical lens where I am but a piece of a higher power, where I am a bit of consciousness with a subconsciousness connected to some strange universal subconsciousness. The notion that these two songs were played back-to-back, both digging deep into my memory banks and withdrawing strong feelings, was an indication that Lady Fate had thrown me another bone.

While fame and steady paychecks elude me, there is still some solace to take in the little, magical, seemingly coincidental moments of life like these. They bring me back to my base, reminding me of my core personality away from the booze, food, flashing lights, and toys of a consumerist society.

I guess Lady Fate isn't so bad. Now, if she can help me out with the steady paycheck department, I'd be eternally grateful.

Nicole by OPI Nail Polish Giveaway

Hey everyone as you might already know, I have had the honor of being the Blogger Spotlight for Nicole by OPI. They were so incredibly wonderful they even, 

gave me a whole Nicole by OPI collection to give away to you.

I have the 12 full colors that make up the Something about Color collection for Target.

Colors at Random: 

Brilliant Idea, Iceberg Lotus, I m a Pool of Lv, Make a Comet-ment, Nicole s Nickel, Pink Seriously, Pink-nic in Park, You re Steal One, Green up Your Act, Sounds grape to me, Its Not Me/Blue, 

and Lv You Chrry Much.

Here's how to enter the giveaway!

1. You must be a follower of this blog, new followers are welcome

2.You must like my facebook Page Karla Nail Design at:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Karla-Nail-Design/193176844050046

3. You must be a U.S Resident (sorry international followers)

My blog is mainly about how i discovered my passion for nail art through my illness. And on how this changed my life dramatically to make it a career. Therefore the fourth rule is to...

4. Comment me here 2-3 sentences on Anything difficult you've gone through that helped you discover something about yourself, or has helped you over come that obstacle.

5. Last but not least you must be a nail polish addict (lol)
6. this one is optional since not everyone has a twitter account but follow me if you like at: 
http://twitter.com/#!/Karlapatricia00

 

I will verify that you are following this blog and my facebook page.

There will be 3 winners with a total of 4 Nicole By OPI polishes each, and I will choose 2 local winners to win a free manicure and 3D nail design done by me.

So if your local please make sure to comment me (so i know who you are) that way i can choose by random.

Contest ends September 30, 2011 at 12:00 am 

and I will announce the winners on 

October 1st 2011

Good Luck and share your stories with me.

Email or comment me for any questions.

Campfire Conversations

Moses and George Bush were riding on an elevator. George Bush recognized Moses and said "Hello." Moses ignored him. George Bush tried again but still, Moses offered no response. Finally, George Bush reprimanded Moses and said, "Don't you know it's rude not to speak to someone who is talking to you?" Moses replied, "The last time I talked to a Bush I spent 40 years in the desert!!!" (A campfire joke shared by my son John.)

On our camping vacation with our long-time friends from church, all of us friends since our teenagers were babies, we have a tradition of starting two adjacent bonfires at night-one for the adults and another for the kids, otherwise our group is too large for anyone to cozy up close enough to the warm fire.

The conversation at the adult campfire quickly turned to St. Matthias Parish, of which we have all been members for 15-20 years. The talk concerned the recent trend of emptier pews and the many reasons why we felt that families would choose to leave a parish to which they had long been members. One thought was that it is a parent's duty to make sure that their children were happy at church and the parents better do whatever it takes to insure that the little ones don't give up the faith, even if that means changing parishes. And Steve and Kathy, who have long been pillars of the parish, deeply involved in every ministry, and most currently passionately building up the youth of the parish by running the youth ministry which is affectionately called FEET (Faith Empowering and Engaging Teens), were just wanting ideas to keep those same teens who might be bored at church actively involved with their faith at the parish in which they were raised. There certainly are no easy answers and everyone is going to do what they feel is best for their family-either leave or dig in and plant the roots of faith even deeper.

So this girl who likes to send her roots down deep and stay put, changed the topic to share her love for her family minivan. Our minivan is over ten years old; it's rusty and noisy and has safely carried our family over 120,000 miles. Paul would like to trade it in for a newer and less maintenance-costly model, but I love my van-it's my daily traveling companion and I just can't bear to part with it. Sometimes it makes some strange noises, but I just turn the radio a little louder and carry on. I feel the same way about my house and my husband. I know that my van, my house and my husband, beloved though they all are, are none of them perfect. But I love them all just the same and couldn't imagine my life without them

And that's exactly how I feel about my parish. Sure, we've got troubles and problems, but if I bail, which I've often been tempted to do over the years, then I haven't done one single thing to help solve the problems, I've only selfishly run away to look for something new which I will soon find has problems of it's own.

A few years ago, when my depression was at it's most severe, God called me to begin attending daily Mass. I didn't want to go. I cried all the way to church, cried all during Mass, and then cried all the way home again. I begged God to just let me roll over and sleep for another thirty minutes. Why did He always have to drag me to church every day when I was just tired and wanted to sleep, I wondered? But somehow God's drawing me to Mass was powerful and potent and I could not resist, so there I was every day at 7 AM Mass, tears and all. Over time, I stopped complaining and dried my tears long enough to notice how beautiful that daily Mass was and before long I couldn't imagine staying away. I began to thank God for daily Mass instead of complaining about how unhappy I was to attend.

I think there's a lesson in that experience for the youth of our parish. They might not want to attend Confirmation classes, they might complain about having to dress nicely for church, they might prefer to sleep in on a Sunday morning, and they might even say that Mass is boring. But if we, as parents, continue to compel them to come through obedience, sooner or later they will stop complaining and they will find the beauty in the routine of worship and they will feel the love God has for them and will respond in wanting to give all of their love right back to the Lord. If we teach them to run away every time things become the least bit unpleasant at church or in life, then we haven't done our job in firmly teaching them the faith or given them the life skill of endurance through good times and bad.

And Steve looked over at the youthful campfire and said, "Now that's spiritual-twelve teens getting along, sharing stories with one another, even though they rarely see each other. There's a fine example of living joyfully and glorifying the Lord."

And why does that spiritual connection happen? Because even if the parents complain about the difficulties of camping such as rain, cold weather, and hard rocks to sleep on, they persevere in bringing their children on a family camping trip year after year and the children learn that there are joys and sorrows intertwined in all things, that life is a combination of ease and difficulties, and that by lovingly continuing the traditions of our faith and our lives we allow God to shine through and bring beauty and faith to all situations.

And so we stay at our parish, we continue on in our Catholic faith, we hold on to our friendships. We embrace a radical fidelity to the lives to which God has called us and in the end, He will reward our faithfulness with his abiding and eternal love.

Natural Nail Designs : Color Combination Of Pink and White

Natural Nail Designs : Color Combination Of Pink and White Nail Polish.

The Lord Has Done Marvels For Us

"The Lord has done marvels for us." Psalm 126

The Bender family has long been early risers, so on the first day of our camping vacation, while our friends were sleeping in, we all got up for an early morning walk along the lake. As we were returning, I noticed a man sitting on a picnic bench with a big camera aimed our way. I suspiciously told Justin and Mary, my walking companions, "That guy over there is taking a picture of us."
















And suddenly, I recognized the photographer as our friend, Steve!


















And Steve also candidly captured Paul and Joe. I never cease to be amazed at Joe's height, how at the tender age of fifteen, he towers over the rest of the family.

















And John with Jack trailing behind.

















And here we all are rocking out in the sunshine!

















And last but certainly not least, Steve snapped this lovely photo of the beauty that surrounded us at Devil's Lake. The Lord has done marvels for us, indeed! He has given us the love of a family striving for holiness and happiness, the glories of nature, and time for rest and relaxation away from the daily grind so that we can catch our breath and appreciate His many gifts-and it is all LOVE!

Family Camping Blessings

"Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows." James 1:17
(View from the East Bluff at Devil's Lake State Park in Wisconsin about 5 PM-taken by my son John with his cell phone)

So often in life God sends us blessings, but we don't recognize them as such while they are occurring, it's only in retrospect that we realize the wonders that God has offered to us. Such is usually my experience regarding camping vacations, but fortunately, God opened my eyes early enough on my most recent camping trip so that I was able to recognize His blessings and enjoy them while they were happening.

Every September my family takes an annual camping trip to Devil's Lake State Park with some of our friends from church. As luck would have it, the weather turns cold and rainy and the ground is hard and rocky and I end up complaining that I will never camp again and wonder aloud why we don't just go hiking somewhere lovely during the day and then go home to our cozy beds at night. But my children enjoy camping, so every year I agree to the outing but am sure to include plenty of grumbling so that everyone knows how reluctant I am to camp. I do enjoy playing the role of suffering victim no matter how minor the suffering may be.

As a control-freak, I have a hard time taking even the shortest of weekend vacations fearing that the world will come to an end if I miss anything important while I am away. This year especially, I was reluctant to go camping because my friend, Fr. Christopher Klusman, suffered the loss of his father, and I had wanted to attend the funeral to offer him my comfort, (truthfully, it probably would have been me who would have received the most comfort from being there)but the funeral date conflicted with our camping schedule. Also, our parish held their annual picnic on the Sunday afternoon when we would be returning and I really had wanted to attend the picnic and celebrate with my family of faith instead of spending an afternoon unpacking and washing twenty loads of laundry. But the camping trip is our only annual family vacation so I sacrificed the other events and camping we went.

Our local Catholic Herald had a recent issue with a map of Shrines found in Wisconsin. One of the Shrines was very close to our campground and even though we have camped at that same park many times, I didn't know that the Shrine at Durward's Glen existed, so I was eager to pay a visit. As we drove our car off the little bit of Americana that is the Merrimac Ferry (Hwy. 113 ends at the Wisconsin River and the Merrimac Ferry carries the cars across to resume travel on the other side of the river where Hwy. 113 continues)we spotted a sign pointing to Durward's Glen so we made a quick side-trip before setting up camp, and as we were the only visitors to the Glen at that time, we enjoyed a peaceful and prayerful afternoon.

We found Durward's Glen to be a pristine area with a Mary, Mother of God Grotto, an outdoor chapel and a Stations of the Cross that led to a quaint cemetery and another chapel. Included in the Glen were several hiking trails throughout the wooded area. How lovely to begin our vacation in prayer in this natural setting! As we were hiking through the woods a big yellow dog came running down a hill towards us, giving us all a fright! My daughter Mary started running with the dog hot on her heels. At first we thought it was a wild coyote but she was soon joined by a little beagle and we saw that both of the dogs had collars so we assumed that they were local farm animals on a little natural escapade. The dogs quickly became attached to our family and stayed by our side on the entire walk. Joe decided to name them after my deceased parents so they were quickly dubbed "Grandpa and Grandma Reindl." It was hard to leave my parent's namesakes behind when it was time to go to the campground and the kids begged to keep them. Especially sad was the sight of the yellow dog as she chased our van down the highway while we drove away, trusting that the dogs would find their way back to their home and their rightful owners. (pictured: the hermitage at Durward's Glen-click here to visit Durward's Glen website)

Once we set up camp, it was a normal vacation-we enjoyed the company of our wonderful friends, the beauty of hiking around the ever-gorgeous Devil's Lake, the late night visits around the campfire, the expected frigid sleeping weather and the Sunday morning pack-up in the rain after an early morning Mass at the beautiful St. Joseph's Church in Baraboo. While we hate to attend Mass in our smoky-smelling camp clothes and could choose to attend Mass on Sunday evening when we're back home and cleaned up, we thoroughly enjoy worshiping God in such a lovely location and we feel that it adds holiness to our camping experience to make time for Sunday worship while we camp instead of putting prayer off until we're safely home.
And when we arrived home and had unpacked, my son Justin said, "Mom, I know that you don't like camping anymore and would rather not go, but thank you for taking us, because I had a really great time." How could I not agree to go again next year knowing that it means so much to my family? And, how greatly blessed I am to have teenagers who enjoy spending time with their parents!

Once the unpacking and clean-up was accomplished, we still had time to attend our parish picnic in the rain and arrived just in time to see Fr. Paul take his turn in the dunk-tank! There he was in his tee-shirt with the picture of Jesus on the front, sure that no one would dare to send Jesus under water, but he was wrong. Again and again, the children in line hit the target and that good sport Fr. Paul went down into the water surely accepting his frequent dunks as a sacrifice for the Lord! And, as a bonus to those parish staff members who sat in the tank after him, they now fell into "Holy Water" that had been blessed by the presence of the associate pastor!

We were also blessed to meet some friends who had been able to attend the funeral for Fr. Christopher's father who assured us that the funeral was well attended with over 21 priests including Fr. Christopher's graduating class and two bishops, so, of course, my friend was well comforted and my worries were for naught. But of course, I know that my prayers for him were well received even from the distance of my camping vacation.

This year's camping weekend will go down as one of the most memorable and prayerful that I have known. I will eagerly await next fall's camping trip knowing that my family and I will enjoy some time away in the beauty of nature with the company of good friends-all blessings from a good and generous God who loves us well and will care for all of those I love while allowing me a much-needed family vacation! God's blessings never end, and in our sorrow or our joy, in our work or in our rest, God is always there, loving us all so very well. I ask that you please keep Fr. Christopher Klusman and the soul of his father, Elmer, in your prayers: Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May Elmer's soul, and all of the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen.