Work and pray, pray and work.

This hay-wire world is doing it's best to push us to our limits.Even the weather, from mid-summer on, has not co-operated; rain, clouds, then more rain. 

Rome is darkness, as the fish rots from the head down, but there is much grace in this, for those who see.

For me, right now, all I want to do is stack wood. Allow me, Lord, the time for good manual labor, for I am a Franciscan who cannot do without. 

Work and pray, pray and work. 

St. Francis and the Stigmata.

Francis being indeed a faithful servant and minister of Christ, about the space of two years before he gave back his spirit to heaven, withdrew himself into an high mountain apart, even that mountain which is called Mount Alverno, and began to fast for forty days to the honour of the Archangel Michael. To think of the things above gave him sweeter comfort than beforetime he was wont, and the hot longing for heaven was kindled in him, so that he began to feel that the gifts from above were poured forth upon him in such fulness as he had never felt before. The burning of his desire made his heart rise towards God like the heart of a seraph, and his tender answering love yearned to be changed into the likeness of Him Who hath so loved us that He was content to bear the Cross. And it was so that one morning early, about the time of the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he was praying upon the side of the mountain, and there appeared unto him as it had been one of the Seraphim, having six wings, glorious and fiery, flying to him from heaven. It came therefore very swiftly, and stood in the air, hard by the man of God. He beheld then the appearance thereof that it was not winged only, but crucified also. His hands and feet were stretched forth and nailed to a Cross. Twain of his wings were lifted up and joined one to the other over his head, and twain were stretched forth to fly withal, and with twain he wrapped around his body. When Francis saw it, he was sore amazed, and his soul was.filled with sorrow and gladness, for the eyes of him that appeared were full of strange love and tenderness, so that he conceived great rejoicing thereat, but the nailing to the Cross was so exceedingly dreadful, that as he saw it, a sword of sorrow pierced his soul.

Then He Whom he beheld with his bodily eyes, began to speak silently unto him in his heart, and he understood that albeit the deathless Seraphim cannot suffer or faint, this vision was nevertheless therefore set before him, that he might know that as a friend of Christ he was to be all changed into the likeness of Christ Jesus crucified, not by the martyrdom of the body, but by the fervour of the soul. Then they held together some sweet converse, as of a man with his friend, and the vision passed from him, but his heart was kindled inwardly with the fire of the Seraphim, and his body was outwardly changed into the likeness of Him Who was crucified, even as wax is softened by the fire and taketh the impression of the seal. From thenceforth there were in his hands and feet the marks of the nails. The heads of the nails were seen in the palms of his hands and on the insteps of his feet, and the points came out on the backs of his hands and the soles of his feet. In his right side also was a long raw wound, as though he had been pierced with a spear, from which wound his holy blood oftentimes ran and stained his shirt and breeches.

Thereafter Francis was a new creature, famous for a new and awful sign. The holy marks of the Lord Jesus, whereon living man for twelve centuries had not been allowed to look, were his adornment. He came down from the mount bearing in himself the form of Jesus Crucified, not portrayed upon tables of stone or wood by the hand of any earthly craftsman, but drawn upon his flesh by the finger of the living God. The dying Seraph knew well that it is good to keep close the secret of a king, Tobit xii. 7, and knowing the secret of his King, he strove as far as in him lay to keep the sacred marks hidden from men. Nevertheless, forasmuch as it is the will of the Lord God for His Own glory to make manifest the greatness of His Own works, He openly showed forth divers wonders through these wounds which He had Himself made in secret, so that the hidden and wondrous power of the marks might become known by the fame of the miracles. The foregoing marvellous but thoroughly witnessed facts, which were already spoken of in Papal documents with especial praise and joy, were made, by the pleasure of Pope Benedict XI, the subject of a yearly memorial, which was afterwards extended by Paul V. to the whole Church, in the hope of fanning in the hearts of the faithful the love of Christ Crucified.
  (from) From the Readings upon the Life of St. Francis, composed by St. Buona- Ventura, Cardinal Bishop of Albano.

Pax et Bonum!

I haven't posted much lately, I think the reason being is that I'm just really at a loss for words. Rome is trying it's hardest to tear down the walls of our Church, (even knowing that that can never happen) they are still trying, making a mockery of Catholicism in the eyes of the world. But... like our Pastor, Father Pieroni said so emphatically at Holy Mass yesterday "DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT!"

And so I'll try not to.

In the meantime, Happy Feast Day to all you third order Franciscans and Cord Bearers on this (commemoration) of The Imprinting of the Stigmata on the Body of St. Francis of Assisi.

Pax et Bonum!

Just letting off some steam...

So let me see if I've got this straight, because I profess, I can't and I won't follow along on my i phone and my computer every bit of news that crops up. 99% of it is worthless to me. But the combination of President Trump-bashing and the stupidity of both the liberal-thinking-modernist-believing people AND clergy of the world concerning this immigration policy bull crap has really bothered me.  Let me get this straight: A family of husband and wife with their x amount of children arrives at the border of the US and Mexico.  He has all the paperwork required of him to make a proper border crossing to either visit the US or to eventually become citizens here. The Trump administration decides that the best thing for this family is to separate the parents from the children and throw the children into cages.  No?  I've got it all wrong?  Well, I just watched a spot of news last night and this is exactly what I got out of that report. Wait a minute, you say, no one in their right mind would do something like that, separate families that have all of their proper paperwork.  And you know what, I think your right. But the media that is filling our heads with news, the news they choose and choose how to present it would have you think just that.  There are laws, people, and they are not all that complicated. I won't post the links because one never knows what is attached to them, but if you want to read the laws start by going to something like usa.gov.  It appears one has to be pretty dastardly to not be able to enter the US one way or another.  What we are seeing on the news about separating families is, in my opinion, b*&##**, all to discredit our Administration.  All to secretly promote globalism and open borders and the coming of the one world government. (oh well, I said it). You liberals and modernists, get your head out of your butts and do your homework. If any children are getting separated from their parents and families there is probably a very good reason.  I'm not saying everything is perfect down at the border but just think for a moment about the false narrative that comes from the media and to pray for God's mercy, and that He send much needed enlightenment upon our world. 

Pray for an Intervention from On High.

Faith

Our dog died, back on January 10. We didn't tell that many people but with the internet, word gets around and condolences were given and received. 

Sixteen years.

Sixteen years we had that girl, that's a lot of years of one's life, all of her life, really, and when that person, or dog, that love of ones' life is gone, that's a big hole, a hole that will never be filled.

One starts to think about mortality, our own and others. 

I will miss her, that little nipper. Her name was Faith, and we buried her in the semi-frozen ground out back by the garden. I can see her make-shift headstone that Helen stuck in the ground from my rocker in the kitchen. I still get choked up every time I gaze upon it. 

And that's how it should be, at least for me. 

In a small way she reminds me of my humanity, about unconditional love with no strings attached. If I could love the world half as much as she loved me, I would be a much better man. 

Goodbye again, Faith. I'm hoping God has a special place for our close animal friends that we had here on earth, and perhaps once again I can clip on her leash and take her for another walk around the yard, like we did, every morning.