Kathleen M. Basi's Blog, page 82
April 23, 2013
Guest Post: Blessed Are Those Who Hunger And Thirst For Righteousness (Week 4, This Little Light Blog Tour)
Chapter 4, “Blessed are They Who Hunger And Thirst For Righteousness,” focuses that hunger and thirst on the liturgy. Today’s guest post comes from Bill Harper, who I have gotten to know because and my husband were involved in music ministry together in his childhood parish. Below, Bill shares some thoughts on the liturgy as a way to help us find structure when life seems unsettled and uncomfortable.
The Natural Order of Things
Have you ever been in a situation where you felt ill at ease or unsettled? Or perhaps a situation where things just didn’t feel right and you couldn’t quite put your finger on the problem? I’ve experienced that many times. But one of the most revealing examples in my life was watching it happen to someone else.
4th grader, Hannah, was serving mass for the very first time. She was doing an excellent job in exercising her ministry. I‘ve experienced her as a loving, sincere child in the classroom, the lunch room and on the playground.
John is 80 plus years old. He is a lifelong parishioner and his health is failing. He attends mass weekly, in a wheel chair, with the help of a health care professional. He suffers from early stage Alzheimer’s and has bouts of involuntary vocalizations. Mostly they are sounds, more than words or sentences.
During the consecration John began moaning loudly. Hannah immediately snapped her head around towards John as if to ask, “Are you okay?” And then, she looked at the congregation for some indication that everything was alright. She snapped her head back and forth two or three times; from John to the congregation and back again. I don’t know if anyone else noticed. The congregation was prayerfully engaged in the special moment at the altar. I wanted to walk up to Hannah and whisper that everything was okay.
Finally her eyes settled on mine. I smiled and nodded with as much reassurance as I could muster. That soothed her anxiety and she returned her focus to the mass. I think the congregation’s lack of response to John’s outburst may have aided in calming Hannah, as well.
Does Hannah’s reaction remind you of instances in your life when you were taken aback by a new situation? Unsure of what response is required? Like little Hannah, our heads look to our earthly situation –to God – and back again; looking to God for the reassurance that everything and everyone is alright. But isn’t it the image of the congregation, respectfully showing the way, which is to be our beacon; not getting distracted by extraneous details, but instead focusing on the task at hand?
It’s a struggle, isn’t it? We are bombarded by news and information which distracts us from the work we need to do to find our eternal peace. It is imperative that we maintain that focus so that we might fulfill the promise of the covenant; to join in God’s salvation.
Physics teaches us that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Astronomers, chemists and social scientists all struggle to find order in the chaos of our history and present day life. For the most part, we are all reconstructionists and deconstructionists in our desire to create order out of our lives. Have you ever spent time going over and over a situation, trying to find resolution to a seemingly insurmountable problem? Or trying to make sense out of another person’s perspective which makes absolutely no sense to you? In those times, it is prayer which is the work we must do.
Did you know there is a science dedicated to finding the orderliness in chaos? Perhaps you’ve heard of chaos theory. We must find order, we are driven to it. Even the primary books of our faith, the Bible and the Lectionary, are subject to our “orderedness.” And our liturgical year is structured to help us make sense of the life of Christ and the Church. But the purpose of those structures is to free us to see God in the Word and in our liturgies.
Our every move seems preordained, but must we follow?
We have seasons of the year to describe the various effects of the earths’ rotation, clocks and calendars of various sizes, styles and purposes; all designed to promote order. I remember my 13 years living in California and the uncomfortable lack of distinct seasons. I hated the brown barren hills. I missed thunderstorms and the greenery of Southern Illinois and the Fall leaf displays. It’s that same unsure feeling that deters us from staying on God’s path.
At times, it seems that we’re all scurrying around like the White Rabbit, in Alice in Wonderland, one eye on our watch and crying out, “I’m late! I’m late!” We have built machines to assist us in maintaining structure. Corporations invest thousands of dollars training employees to be more efficient and organized. Our whole lives are spent running around trying to create order out of chaos, which only creates more chaos in our lives. “Schedules…and deadlines…and lists…Oh, my! – Schedules…and deadlines…and lists…Oh, my!” We spend our earthly time rushing from one scheduled activity to the next. “Hey, stop the world and let me off! I’m tired of goin’ round and round!”
Won’t it be wonderful when we reach the joy of our eternal seventh day of rest; when we can let go of our desperate attempts to order even heaven to our humanly understanding; when we can stop being the White Rabbit; when all this self created hysteria will be rendered meaningless? Let us all pray that we are not distracted to the mission to which we are called. That sounds like the ultimate reward. God calls us to the joy of our eternal rest. Amen.
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As pastoral associate at St. Joseph Catholic Church in Marion, Illinois, Bill Harper performs a variety of ministerial and administrative functions, including liturgy and overseeing religious instruction. A 2008 graduate of the Aquinas Institute of Theology, he has a Masters
degree in Pastoral Studies with an emphasis on Liturgy. In his “spare” time he is a professional solo singer/guitarist who has produced eight CDs.
April 22, 2013
First Communion: A Journal Entry
Where do I begin to detail a First Communion weekend? Perhaps with Friday morning, when I realize my company actually is arriving that night instead of Saturday afternoon, which means I actually do have to clean my house before dinner. Or maybe I should start with Alex coming home from school, wired and wound up by the thought of grandparents and a cousin coming for a sleepover–and not just a sleepover, but a TWO-NIGHT sleepover! Only he’s strangely lethargic despite his excitement, and I frown at what appears to be the beginnings of a runny nose.
And there’s the ice cream run, and the best mini Chocolate Extreme blizzard ever, and Michael insisting on feeding himself his own ice cream, and deciding at the bottom of the cup that he’s not going to waste any of it, and drinking the dregs. The cup covers his entire face, and when he’s done there’s a big sticky ring around his features. And we’re still waiting for Julianna to finish.
There’s the arrival of the family, an hour after bedtime, and the room full of boys who won’t go to sleep until almost 10:00. And who wake up at 6:05 a.m. on Saturday.
(Incidentally: yes, I am VERY proud of this cake.)
There’s the mowing of the lawn, and the opening of the Google Hangout so Michael’s godparents can see him, and the excitement of going with Grandpa to the store for doughnuts. There’s a hasty trip to the grocery store, and a shower, and a wedding to play in the afternoon, and a cake to bake and decorate. And don’t forget about making schnitzel and noodles–Alex’s requested birthday dinner, which is, yanno, only the most in-depth, time-intensive dinner I prepare. It’s turning into one of those weekends where I can scarcely breathe, and my blood pressure is sky high from stress. Thankfully I have extra hands in the house to help.
By dinnertime, I’m struck by the odd sensation that I’ve barely interacted with my children all day. Alex is well and truly sick–low-grade fever. And I’m thinking, Oh, no! Tomorrow’s his first Communion! What do we do about taking the CUP???? Do I tell him he can’t take the cup? On his FIRST COMMUNION????
(Please withhold comments about how the Real Presence is present under one species. I’m a liturgist. I know this. It’s still his First Communion.)
By the time I roll into bed I’m completely shot. But Michael’s up twice in the night, and the third time, at 4:30a.m., I realize with a shot of adrenaline that the rolls for our luncheon are still in the deep freeze, and we’re going to be gone all morning. I’m trying to work out a timeline for assembling rolls in the shape of a bunch of grapes and having them rise and be ready to bake after Mass, and realizing there isn’t a timeline in which that scenario works. I go downstairs in the dark, trying not to wake my in-laws as I dig through the deep freeze in the dark. I go back to bed because I have to–I have to take my temperature at 5:30. But I know full well I’m finished sleeping for the day.
(Well, it sort of looks like a bunch of grapes.)
By 5:35, Alex is awake. No longer feverish (whew!) but definitely sniffly, and too wound up to sleep. I do a Jazzercise video and assemble the roll creation and put it under a towel in the refrigerator, and we start getting everyone ready for church. Julianna does not want to wear her gorgeous spangled Easter dress. “Doh! I doh wike ee! Doh! I doh wike ee!” she shrieks, and fights me every limb of the way. I think it’s the netting she doesn’t like.
(You can tell he’s not feeling his best, poor guy.)
Church passes in a hazy blur of trying to make sure everything comes together: choir and family logistics, not screwing up the psalm, which I’m playing and Christian’s singing, getting over to join the family for the First Communion itself without making a spectacle. Alex’s hair, newly cut and thick, is soft under my fingers, and my heart feels so full, it bubbles up and wells up through my eyes. I’m trying to hit “pause” and experience this moment to the fullest, but I know it’s not his first Communion that will be most meaningful to me–there’s simply too much else going on to worry about–it’ll be next week, when we file up in line as a family and Alex receives.
And by the way, I’ve decided the heck with the cold. He’s taking the cup.
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After Mass I get to hear about how my kids behaved. “Nicholas and Elise were the highlight of Mass,” my sister-in-law says. “She sidles over beside him and says, ‘I’m four.’”
‘I’m four, too.’
Looking each other up and down. ‘I go to school.’
‘I go to school, too.’
‘I like your dress. Where’d you get it?’
‘From Liz.’”
And my son and his cousin proceed to share hymnals they can’t read for the duration of Mass. “Seriously,” my sister-in-law says, “are they hitting on each other????”
Well….let’s put it this way: inseparable for the rest of the day. Because: “You’re going to sit there, because you’re four. I’m gonna sit there, too. Because I’m four, too.”
Well, enough Journaling. Nose back to the grindstone, with books being ripped and Tonka dumpers being smacked down. Thanks for indulging me this morning.
April 20, 2013
Sunday Snippets
Taking a brief respite from crazed First Communion/birthday weekend preparations to share with the crowd over at RAnn’s This, That & The Other Thing Sunday Snippets: A Catholic Carnival.
My contributions for the week:
I had one of those mommy moments this week. This one involved a mama rabbit.
This week’s blog tour for This Little Light of Mine includes a very practical guest post on the gifts & fruits of the Spirit, and an excerpt, along with a link to a review that made me warm and fuzzy inside.
And finally, 7 Quick Takes, with some cute kid pictures at the end.
April 19, 2013
7QT
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Pulling my hair – TGIF (Photo credit: a n i. Y.)
When Christian came downstairs to go running on Tuesday morning, I said, “Hey, wanna hear how my morning’s been? At 3:45 Michael woke up with a soaked diaper, and I could tell his diaper area was bothering him, so I knew I had to find the diaper rash cream. But I couldn’t find it in the drawer. So after five minutes of searching I went and got the new tube. But there was a seal on it, and I couldn’t find the scissors to break through it. So I finally managed to punch through it with the end of a tube of Vaseline from the hospital, but the stuff still wouldn’t come out, no matter how hard I squeezed. Until it exploded out the far end, all over everything else. So you can imagine what an angelic mood I was in by the time I got back to bed, and I couldn’t sleep, so I came downstairs to the couch. And when I got back to sleep I had this vivid dream where we were trying to leave to go on a date, but you kept talking to (DS associate)’s kids. And then you had to have a long in-depth heart-to-heart with (work associate who is in our choir), and then I couldn’t find my eyeliner. I was crying, and then the alarm went off. So I tried to take my temperature, and I heard this.” Insert anemic broken-basal-thermometer whimper. “So that’s my day by 5:30 a.m. How’s yours?”
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Do you like beautiful handmade cards? You need to check out this site: http://www.etsy.com/shop/CeiliGirlCrafts. This is my sister’s new business. She’s incredibly talented. But don’t take my word for it–go see for yourself.
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Having achieved my weight goal, I’ve had to shop for new clothes recently. Because, yanno, my jeans are falling down. Now, I normally don’t like shopping, but I’ve been really enjoying the process. I’ve been prepping for it for quite a while (remember “fashion demystified,” and its sequel?), so I started scouring the winter clearance racks as well as hitting the spring sales. And it’s been very enjoyable…but. It takes a lot of time to shop. Even someone who knows what she’s looking for and is on a mission, ruthlessly culling the possibilities, can’t do one of the big stores in an hour. And I’m constantly squeezing in the shopping while I have babysitters. And I hire the sitters to give me time to write, not go shopping. So you can imagine the teeth-gnashing I’ve been doing lately. I finally tipped over the edge from “this is fun” to “I can’t stand this stupid process!” this week when I spent an hour at Kohl’s and found not one thing that I wanted to bring home. Kohl’s is a full twenty minute drive from my house, so I was even more annoyed at the waste of time. I had time to do one more store but I gave myself a good talking to about how I was paying a babysitter for this…and I plunked my butt down at Panera with my NEO and wrote one page of a Christmas bulletin insert that’s due in a couple of weeks, and considered the day partly redeemed.
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Alex’s first Communion is this weekend. We’ve been shopping for him, too. He has a new shirt and tie. That was an ordeal, too. We had to go to four stores before we found a white shirt in the right size at a decent price. (Insert Parenthetical 1: See, this is my problem: I’ve bought virtually no clothes at all for my children, because people have given so much to us, and when I do buy, I buy secondhand at Children’s Orchard. So the sticker shock of a full-priced dress shirt for an almost-8-year-old is considerable!) (Insert Parenthetical 2: I would never, ever have considered $20 at The Children’s Place a decent price for a child’s shirt, until I realized it would cost $45 at Dillard’s.)
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filedesc http://www.epa.gov/win/winnews/images05/0510keyboard.gif (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I’ve been cooking on my novel this week. So exciting…and it feels so irresponsible! I have a good list of nonfiction (read that “paying”) projects on my plate right now, but they’re juuuust far enough from deadline that I haven’t been able to force myself to focus on them this week. I’ve torn through fifty pages of major rewrite on my novel, and begrudged having to get up and do anything else. When you get the momentum gpoing, man, it feels good. But I realize today I have to clean my house in advance of weekend guests. I’m afraid the blissful days of novel-writing-until-three-p.m. are past. Sniff, sniff.
___6, 7 & bonus___
Let’s finish up with some pictures!
(Julianna making friends with the next door neighbor last weekend)
Alex practicing baseball in the back yard.
I love taking pictures of my husband (though I’m not sure he likes it as much as I do!):
And Nicholas always wants to do whatever Alex and Daddy are doing:
And, just for fun, here’s one more:
Have a great weekend!
April 18, 2013
April 17, 2013
The Gifts and Fruits of the Spirit (TLL Review and Excerpt)
This Little Light of Mine: Living the Beatitudes
is written not only for use with children, but to help form the faith of the adults who work with them. Today’s excerpt, from Chapter 3: Blessed are the meek, for they will inherit the land (the gifts and fruits of the Spirit), comes from the section for adults.
If there’s one thing you can count on, it’s that God will always turn expectations on their head. When the Jews set their sights on a Messiah who would drive the Romans out of Israel, God sent a baby so poor he was born in a manger. When Jesus’ disciples expected him to raise a grassroots rebellion, he instead emptied himself on the cross. Why is it that God considers the meek his own special ones?
Maybe it’s because they’re under no illusions about their own power and importance. When you have nothing, there’s no one to depend on but God….
We may never be meek in the physical sense of destitution, but we can aspire to separate ourselves from the things of the world and pursue a Godly meekness. Fortunately, the Spirit is waiting to give us what we need … the gifts and fruits of the Spirit.
Just Live It:
3. Institute a “one in, one out” policy in your household: establish a cap on toys, books, and clothes for both adults and kids in the family.
(From This Little Light of Mine: Living the Beatitudes, Ch. 3)
This week’s review and giveaway is brought to you by MessyWife.com. Go over and have a look!
April 16, 2013
Guest Post: Blessed Are The Meek (Week 3, This Little Light Blog Tour
Today’s guest post comes from my good friend Kelley, whom I got to know when we worked across the hall from each other at the parish office…and even after jobs changed, we never stopped helping each other along the Christian (and parenting, and marriage) journey. Chapter 3 of “This Little Light” focuses in on the gifts and fruits of the Spirit, and that’s what Kelley is talking about today.
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…the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self control.
Galatians 5:22
I love gardening. Each March, my husband and I plan out our garden plot and rush to the store to make our botanical dreams come true. Every spring we buy little baby plants and seeds, and I dream of a great harvest of tomatoes, cucumbers, beans, melons, etc. Now let me clarify. By the phrase, “I love gardening,” I actually mean I love to eat things that grow in a garden. Year after year, when green begins to appear on the trees and I’m high on daffodil fumes, I think I love gardening. And then we plant a garden, and I’m reminded that I actually do not enjoy weeding and watering, transplanting and staking.
Last fall, when my round-the-clock job as a youth minister and my round-the-clock job as a mom and wife were beginning to pile up, I thought to myself that what I really needed was some joy in my life. And then a few days later, patience was what I needed. And then a heavy dose of love for the people I live with. So I began to pursue these things, looking for ways to infuse my life with them. I read book after book, trying tactics and techniques that seemed so easy and yet in practice didn’t have the effect I was searching for.
One day in prayer, it hit me. What I was lacking most in my life were these fruits of the spirit. But I wanted the fruit without putting in the work. I was trying to obtain the fruit without being attached to the vine. Oh yes, I wanted so badly to be joyful and patient with my children and my husband. I yearned to have control over my selfishness and to be a holy and faithful disciple. But beyond the mere wanting of it, what had I done to grow that fruit in my life? Sure, I had tossed up a prayer now and then, when I remembered, but other than that I was trying to make these qualities materialize out of sheer will.
In the garden, if you neglect the plant it might bear a little fruit at first, but it certainly won’t be a plentiful harvest. The same is true in our spiritual lives. By tending to my soul through persistent prayer, daily reading of scripture, reception of the sacraments, etc, I can ensure myself a bounty of sweetness in the form of those fruits of the spirit. When I routinely forget to nurture my own spirituality, becoming so busy that I forget to water the vine, the end result is a meager sampling of what God has intended for our lives here on Earth.
The Holy Spirit spoke to me, when I was feeling weak and parched–reminded me of the Living Water that is waiting to be poured into our lives, if we only ask for it. I spent the next nine weeks praying a homemade novena of sorts. Each week for the nine weeks, I prayed actively for one of the fruits of the Spirit. I read scripture as much as possible, attended daily Mass, and really focused on tending the garden. The results were powerful and undeniable. Life was springing forth. While I might not be any better at actual gardening, I feel like I am making some forward strides in spiritual gardening! Of course I still struggle. Of course I grow lazy and complacent. But I’m noticing the neglect more quickly these days—trying my best to continually water and feed my soul that is yearning for that nourishment. Working hard for a plentiful harvest!
By Matt Maher and Audrey Assad
About Me: I am a wife to the best husband money could buy, mother of three (9, 7, and 2 ½), and a ginger. We are all ginger, in fact. I am a former youth minister, turned elementary school teacher, turned youth minister, and am now rocking the gig as a stay at home mom. I love music, coffee, Jesus, the Catholic Church, and reality TV. Also Harry Potter.
April 15, 2013
Mama Rabbit And Me
English: Rabbit nest found in playground wood chips, O’Fallon, Illinois 2007. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
There’s a rabbit under the red maple in front of my house. It’s standing in a funny position, back legs on the grass, front legs up on the mulch. I’m about to turn away when suddenly there’s a flash of gray under its belly. A wiggle. Another flash.
You know that cliché about hearts stopping? Ridiculous, of course. Nobody’s heart stops beating–not when shocked, not when hurt, and not in moments of exquisite perfection, either. But at this moment, my insides flip over as I realize I’m looking at a nursing mother.
Enter Cliché #2, the one about tugging at heart strings. Also ridiculous–except there’s a deep, visceral pull, as if something is trying to yank the center of my chest out through my rib cage. I’m standing at the picture window in the upstairs hallway, scarcely able to breathe, and thinking how weird this reaction is.
To understand why, you have to know that I hate rabbits. The war began when they ate my tomato plants, lovingly grown from seed the first spring of our marriage. I used to throw things at rabbits. Chase them. Yell at them. Try to scare them to death. Once, I even ran over a nest of babies with the lawn mower. That one was an accident, though. They were hidden so well, I didn’t realize it until the damage was done, and I was sick about it.
In this moment, though, with Mama Bunny perched in watchful stillness while her wiggling babies nurse themselves to sleep, I can’t think what I was so bent out of shape about. They were just tomato plants, for crying out loud. After a decade of kid drama, tomato plants hardly seem worth mention.
“Guys! Look!” I call. “It’s a mama rabbit nursing her babies!”
The boys come running to the window. “WHY DOES THE BUNNY HAVE A SCARED LOOK ON HIS FACE?” asks Nicholas in his usual tone of voice, which could be heard somewhere in the vicinity of Mars. They’re fascinated, until they get distracted by play and bickering. I drift downstairs to get a closer look from the living room window. I kneel there, looking out into the coming twilight. Mama rabbit keeps constant vigilance; the only part of her body that moves is her head, which jerks toward every suspicious noise. Her default position faces the cul de sac, where half a dozen kids are playing basketball, but when Alex joins me and taps the window with a pica stick, she whips around and stares directly at us for a full five seconds.
Newborn, nursing babies. The longing catches me off guard, so strong it wants to crush my breath, and yet it’s exquisitely beautiful. I don’t understand how so many women can have a baby or two and then say with finality bordering on hostility, “That’s IT! I’m done.” Don’t they ever ache for more of that sweetness that comes only with those fresh from Heaven?
My rational mind is yelling, “Whoa, girl!”, reminding me of my beaten-up, scarred insides, of Michael Mayhem and Nicholas the strong-willed, of Julianna’s homework, the completion of which frequently is like pulling teeth, and five nights out of seven committed to work or child’s enrichment activity. And yet as I watch that mama rabbit, I don’t care. I want what she has. Oh, how I want it.
At length, the wiggling subsides into stillness. Mama rabbit stays in place, but she grooms her leg, nibbles at the grass. I’m the only watcher now; Alex is playing Star Wars with a pica stick, and upstairs the little ones fight and giggle by turns. Methodically she pulls mulch over the nest, and soon, the babies are invisible. We would have no idea they were there if I hadn’t happened to be looking out the window at the right time. Then she hops away, across the driveway and down the side of the house, and the moment is past.
Over the weekend, the kids play outside. We mow the grass, plant flowers. I venture no closer than four feet, afraid to taint the nest with a human smell. I know what I’m feeling is cyclical–my womb recognizing there is no baby in it this month, and mourning the loss. Maybe I’m making more of all this than there really is. And yet I know that in the years to come, when I pull out the box of motherhood memories to turn them over and ponder them in my heart, this moment will be among them.
April 13, 2013
Sunday Snippets
Sunday Snippets time, hosted by RAnn of This, That & The Other Thing–where we get together to share our best posts.
Today I’ll share three:
Two from my blog tour–A guest post from our very own Barb Schoeneberger on suffering, and another excerpt from This Little Light of Mine, this time from a section for children
and a little description of an unexpected perfect moment.
April 12, 2013
7QT: the Organization Edition
Congrats to Jen, Hallie, and Christina on beautiful new babies!
After last week’s disorganization edition, I figure it’s time to share what we did last weekend to organize. So here you go:
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You know how you have papers that live on the kitchen table because they need to be addressed regularly, or that live on the table until they’re dealt with? For us, it’s Julianna’s homework packet, which is a month-long thing, and Alex’s “week in a peek” and spelling words. You know how they’re are always getting shunted around and having milk spilled on them and little hands are grabbing them and saying, “Whee! Something to rip!”
Enter this solution:
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We have lazy susans in two corners of our kitchen. One holds the plastic storage, and the other…well, it’s gone through various incarnations. Its most recent incarnation is an empty bottom shelf, because Michael learned how to open the cereal/graham cracker boxes and began helping himself to snacks whenever he was bored, and sometimes just because he felt like flinging cereal around the kitchen. Having the big plastic bins on the counter was making me want to scream, so my rockin-awesome husband came up with the idea of creating space in the pantry, thusly:
So here’s a tour of my pathetic pantry (on my list for a dream home? Walk-in pantry!). Top shelf: pasta and the blender. Shelf 2: recipe books. Shelf 3: spices and ice cream toppings. Shelf 4: cereal/cracker bins, with oils and syrups tucked behind. I don’t like this solution, but it works for the interim, until Michael loses interest. Shelf 5: Baking needs–sugars, flours, corn meal, rice, etc. Floor: bread machine, Foreman grill, mixer. Door: All manner of lightweight items that fit.
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And finally, we bought a computer desk to mount the old computer in the kitchen for kids’ use. It’s been sitting in a pile in that corner for eighteen months, so it was nice to get this up and running again.
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It doesn’t seem like much, does it? But the kids are thrilled about it:
(Well, actually they’re singing the theme song to Veggie Tales. What, don’t you prefer to watch TV with no cushions on the couch?
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I also made myself a work list this week. I was beginning to feel that I had no handle whatsoever on what my deadlines were. And I am GOING to finish my novel before Christmas arrives again. (I had said “and submit to agents,” but I realized that was a pipe dream. I’m on my last major revision, but I’ll still have one hard polishing run to do before I can submit.)
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Speaking of writing, if you aren’t following my This Little Light of Mine blog tour, I had a guest post this week on suffering, written by fellow Catholic blogger Barb Schoeneberger, and an excerpt from the corresponding chapter on “Blessed are Those Who Mourn.” (Plus a link to the week’s review & giveaway!)
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Great. Now I have the Veggie Tales theme song stuck in my head. So you should too.
