tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-60533217220640454652024-02-20T09:37:41.785-08:00Michael's MusingsThe random thoughts of a scattered brain.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.comBlogger110125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-53734728659921755942020-04-03T19:33:00.001-07:002020-04-03T19:33:10.057-07:00The (Unfinished) Confessions of a Lazy Catholic <div dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-c2a2bc3a-7fff-b05a-acfb-07a6e5653617" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My name is Michael, and I’m a lazy Catholic. Something tells me I’m not the only one. Taking Mass for granted, vaguely remembering to follow the rules during Lenten fasting, surely not taxing myself by abstaining from meat EVERY Friday. Praying EVERY day, WHO does THAT. And I don’t even know where my rosary is currently (can y’all ask Saint Anthony to help me with that). </span></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" />
<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’ve long said the Prodigal Son could’ve been written about me, I like leaving home to see what’s going on out there in the world, only to realize that I’m empty, unfulfilled, and hungry, so I go shuffling back to Dad, apologizing, begging to be let back in. He always lets me come home, He’s always happy I returned, but I’m always lazy and frustrated by the “rules”, so I wander off. </span></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" />
<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And I take Mass for granted, and I skip it, and I miss out on the Eucharist. And the person I should be slouches downward, and reaches for baser things. I’m currently sitting here having not been to Mass in several weeks, unsure when I’ll be able to go thanks to the suspension of public Masses in light of the pandemic. I miss Jesus, I miss the Eucharist, I miss the simple beauty of Mass. </span></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" />
<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I can’t be the only one in that boat either. I wager quite a few of us miss it. I’m hoping that this dark situation leads to a bit of an awakening, that we all find that we’ve missed Mass, missed Him. That we all return to our Father’s house, seeking His love and forgiveness. That we all seek to fill the holes we have with that which is missing, our need to remember we aren’t made for this world, but for the next. </span></div>
<br style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto;" />
<div dir="ltr" style="-webkit-text-size-adjust: auto; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-ligatures: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">And as we remember the world we were made for, let us strive to be examples of the love of Jesus. My heart and soul ache these days, as I struggle to find my way to God, and I watch people behave selfishly, and not take care of their fellow pilgrims. </span></div>
Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-14576951277614786372018-01-02T06:41:00.001-08:002018-01-02T06:41:12.852-08:00Ramblings on a meeting of importanceSo in September or October of 2016, in my forest of loss and grief, I found a Facebook group, that little did I know was the start of an amazing journey and a big step in my healing and finding my way out of that dark place. It was a support group for divorced people, as I introduced myself to the group, and asked if anyone was from Minnesota I got a few replies, one particular person caught my eye, but she didn't seem interested in doing more than saying hello and welcome to the group.<br />
<br />
The next month or two were filled with the last crucial part of my journey, it was painful, it was fun, it hurt like Hell and it showed me, my heart was still capable of love and being open.<br />
<br />
One young lady did converse with me more than just to say hello. We quickly grew quite close, she lived up north, which is Minnesota speak for St. Cloud, well lots of places but in my case, St. Cloud.<br />
<br />
Our whirlwind romance, such as it was, lasted about 2 months. I began to feel unsure about the situation, so I suggested we slow down a little, and then she started messing around with someone else, and even went so far as to call me one night as she was heading to see this person, basically asking me to make her feel ok about her decision to go see him. How 'bout no.<br />
<br />
So, needless to say I was heartbroken and truly hurt for the second time in six months (since my divorce finalized in July).<br />
<br />
But, and this was another important, yet painful portion of the journey, I was able to talk to my ex wife about the situation. We had an honest, painful, frank discussion. That was about what the new girl was putting me through (emotional abuse), while also somewhat touching on what happened with us.<br />
<br />
So I learned, that in essence my ex wife loved me because I loved her, loved me because I didn't make her feel less than, like so many in her life had, but she didn't love me for me. That hurt, a lot. But it was so helpful to hear, and I have been able to unpack it and see how even though it was painful, it was beneficial in me beginning to understand I was lovable and deserved love, and that these rejections had less to do with who I was than situations beyond myself.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, remember the other woman I mentioned who said hello, but not much else. We had shared a journey through a couple different groups, occasionally commenting on each other's posts or photos, but still remaining at a distance. She had some things she was learning too, so I continued to notice her, notice how close she was, and continued to wonder what it would be like to get to know her.<br />
<br />
That group that initially drew me in, blew up in a bad way, that's a sordid tale for another time, but the Readers Digest version is that the founder/mod was a crazy, lying, sneak.<br />
<br />
Because that group blew up, several others sprang up, similar to it, as certain former members, wanted a more stable group, that would always remain open, and drama free.<br />
<br />
As friends and acquaintances added me in and out of these groups, I saw her again, she was added into one of the groups. We said hello, I was struck by the notion I should message her.<br />
<br />
I shot my shot, my opening salvo, was purely to ascertain her status, I asked if she was still with the guy I last knew she was, in today's relationship parlance, talking to.<br />
<br />
She was not...My heart soared with possibility. So we began conversing in earnest. And it was here that my life began to change. I laid myself bare, she saw all my scars, all my hurts, all the ways I'd been broken over the last couple years. We discussed meeting, in my deranged mind, since I had the time available, I said let's meet on the anniversary of The Darkest Day. She wanted to be sure I'd be ok with it. I reasoned that it gave me something to look forward to on that day, and if we went somewhere as a relationship, well it would add a happy memory, and if we failed I already hated that day anyway.<br />
<br />
The morning of The Darkest Day last year was an interesting one, I had steeled myself to be sad and broken and hurt for the day. But when I woke up, yes I was sad, however I was also buoyed by good thoughts. Then I had an amazing moment. I could almost feel Jake telling me "Dad stop focusing so much energy on the day I died, I don't want to be remembered that way, remember all the days I lived."<br />
<br />
So my thoughts while not exactly happy began to turn toward positive and happier themes. I had my boys that morning so we cuddled, we had fun and then I gave them back to their mom.<br />
<br />
I hustled through cleaning up my apartment, getting ready for my date. We were keeping it simple, pizza and conversation.<br />
<br />
When Julianne got to my apartment and texted me that she was here, I walked downstairs and stood waiting for her to get out of her car, anxious, unsure, scared of the future, but hopeful we would hit it off.<br />
<br />
Then she said "Hi." and I was lost...Her voice was bubbly and sweet and I feel like I literally heard my soul say "That's the one." We hugged and headed inside.<br />
<br />
She let me talk, let me ramble, let me tell her about my dead son, she asked questions, she told me about herself. I showed her my favorite videos of Jake, showed her pictures of my boys. She showed me her two wonderful kids. That night was everything I needed to believe in myself, in love, in possibility again.<br />
<br />
I had decided even in the early weeks of us talking that I was just going to be alone, maybe a series of on again/off again romances, or short relationships.<br />
<br />
It became clear by the end of that first night, we were sitting on something special. I was smitten, she was everything I had hoped she would be. Funny, smart, sweet, tough, but underneath that toughness was a woman that had been through her own Hell, but she still was able to be open, to be receptive to the idea of a relationship (even though on that first night all we were certain of was that we'd give it a chance).<br />
<br />
Julianne was a voice calling out to me. I knew I was still lost in grief, and still struggling to make it through. She gave me a compass point. I blundered my way out of those woods by following her voice. I still occasionally find the trees, but I know if I wander too far, she'll be there calling me out of them.<br />
<br />
That's important, and a wonderful thing to have in a relationship.<br />
<br />
All of this meandering, long winded rambling to say, I am so thoroughly in love with her, so amazed by where this relationship has gone in the last year. I'm looking forward to seeing where we go next... Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-35967069103888027432017-01-24T15:09:00.000-08:002017-01-24T19:58:32.511-08:00The Darkest DayHe was sick...yeah. It was worrisome, but <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
our boys were indestructible...but man, this one was kicking Jake's butt. We took him back and forth between his pediatrician, the ER, Mayo, seemed like everyone had a different take on how to treat it.<br />
<br />
Jacob had RSV, he was struggling, seemingly in some kind of pain constantly, he was grinding his teeth, fussing, arching...<br />
<br />
Between Traci, Cheryl, and I we took turns staying up with Jake, holding him seemed to be the only way he would soothe enough to sleep...poor kid was a mess, he was grinding his teeth so hard he made himself bleed...<br />
<br />
After all the back and forth and with his condition just not getting any better, Traci loaded him up Monday night and took him down to Mayo. We thought he might have been having seizures on top of the RSV. After a night in the hospital, Traci and Jake came home Tuesday afternoon...<br />
<br />
Early Wednesday morning, like 4, she woke me up asking me to take him to our ER here, if for nothing else than maybe they could admit and observe him...<br />
<br />
Quickly after arriving the doctor starts talking about transferring him back down to Mayo. Yay, so I call Traci, she comes over, and we discuss... an intense feeling of unease is settling over me, looking back, I can ascribe to it a bit of psychic power...<br />
<br />
But at the time, I was just worried about my son, worried about getting down to Rochester (the ice and sleet Traci drove home in the day before were still present). I told her to stay with Jake while the helicopter was getting situated...<br />
<br />
Meanwhile Jacob is being poked, stuck, and prodded, they couldn't get a vein to start an IV, they were trying to medicate him to calm him.<br />
<br />
I headed home loaded a backpack with clothes, the laptop, made sure Cheryl was going to be able to start getting Matt and Tommy ready for school, and I hit the road.<br />
<br />
A quick stop at McDonalds and I headed out of town...<br />
<br />
Still feeling dread, still unsure, scared, feeling alone, and praying....<br />
<br />
I got to Dennison, couldn't get the heater and my sweatshirt to agree on a temperature...I basically just came to a rolling stop on the road... ripped my sweatshirt off, tossed it to the passenger seat. Didn't even bother with putting my seatbelt back on.<br />
<br />
I started going again, got maybe 300 yards down the road from my rolling stop, hit a patch of ice, and knew I was fucked...I had time to think two things..."Please God, don't let me die. And snarkily, well I didn't need this shit today."<br />
<br />
The Envoy slid, spun, and flopped to its side...I was in a ditch in front of a warehouse, pointing the way I had just came...I'm not sure if I briefly lost consciousness or not, pretty soon I heard two women talking to me asking if I thought I could get out...I took stock of my situation, I was alive, banged up, had hit the windshield and had glass in my head, I worked myself loose, handed the bags I had up out the passenger side door...climbed out.<br />
<br />
I remember just saying over and over "I need to get to my son, they're taking him to Mayo, I need to get there."<br />
<br />
The ladies called and told Traci and Cheryl what had happened... and an ambulance was on its way to take me to the hospital. I refused to let them take me back to Northfield...I couldn't/wouldn't let them take me anywhere but St. Mary's that way Traci would only have to worry about one hospital.<br />
<br />
So they got clearance to take me to Mayo, and off we went...me strapped to a backboard, with a cervical collar, unable to move...<br />
<br />
I was asking the paramedics about Jake, and if they could just find out if he had gotten there. They let me know that he was there, and that Traci's mom was with him...<br />
<br />
Traci got the big boys off to school and Tommy's bus driver had told her they would drive her down and make sure she got there safe...finally I saw a beautiful, familiar face when she got there...<br />
<br />
They checked me out all over, CT, X ray, the works, finally deciding I was just banged up, they let me go at around 430 that afternoon...Traci and I were finally able to go up and see our boy.<br />
<br />
That's when an already tumultuous day became a waking hell...<br />
<br />
We got to his room, Jake was ashen, and rough and just looked like he was already gone...<br />
<br />
They were struggling still with no IV, so we got to see him for a minute before they asked us to step out so they could start a central line.<br />
<br />
We stepped out to the waiting area...before long a nurse poked her head out the security door and my heart fell..."guys," she said, "he's coding, you need to get in here." We hustled into the room, and took up positions at his bed, but out of the way of the doctors, and nurses...<br />
<br />
I put my hand on his foot (it was what I could reach), and my brain, fell immediately into prayer, I repeated the Hail Mary, over and over, the Saint Michael prayer..., and just begged God to save our son.<br />
<br />
For more than half an hour, they did chest compressions, they did breathing, they did the paddles, finally Jake came back...<br />
<br />
I asked for a priest, I had baptized Jake myself with holy water taken from the chapel when he was born, but I needed it to be official...we ended up having a chaplain that came and did the baptism...a priest came up later and blessed Jake, and also prayed for Collin who was battling RSV too.<br />
<br />
That sense of foreboding and dread was heavier still...the doctors were talking about getting a central line in and putting Jake into an induced coma, but trying to get him to stabilize so they could...<br />
<br />
He coded again, and since they still had no vein access they had to use the little bone drill things to get him medication...they used the paddles again, and did CPR.<br />
<br />
This became a pattern...and every time Jacob coded, and they ran his blood, something else was shutting down. Traci and I didn't need anyone telling us that, we know enough medicine, we could track it.<br />
<br />
I talked to the attending doc, "When are we just being selfish and keeping him alive, because the thought of the other is so awful?"<br />
<br />
"Not yet, but we might end up there if we can't get him to stabilize."<br />
<br />
So, cardiology came up, was able to get a scan of his heart, and said structurally it was fine, but it was just shutting down.<br />
<br />
A quick round of discussion and we had decided that the next time it happened, it would be in God's hands, we wanted to hold Jake (as much as we could), and just let things go.<br />
<br />
So a short time later, he coded again. And Traci and I surrounded his bed and told him we loved him and that he could let go if that was what he needed to do...<br />
<br />
I will never forget the moment I knew he was gone. I physically felt myself break. I will never ever be able to explain that, and I don't even think I have ever admitted that.<br />
<br />
I broke, in my soul, in my heart, my head...the world ceased to make sense (I'm still not sure if it does again, yet).<br />
<br />
Holding him after, cold, lifeless, was in some way a bit of closure, but was also awful. I felt like the entire world was collapsing on me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
Coming home, at 3 in the morning, without a child in the car seat in the back, high as I could get on the prescription drugs they gave me...I was lost, it began the journey through the woods I'm still lost in...<br />
<br />
Explaining to Matt and Tommy that morning that Jacob was gone was awful...I still haven't entirely forgiven myself for talking to Matt and while not ignoring Tommy, not doing a great job of including him, trying to help him understand.<br />
<br />
Being lost and unable to help or be there for Traci may not have been the only thing that ended my marriage, but it was the death knell.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-7079582572229941392017-01-17T04:33:00.001-08:002017-01-17T04:33:54.371-08:00Who Heals The HealerAny lover of video games or Dungeons and Dragons will tell you when you're creating your party, a healer is a necessary member of the group. The one with the magic incantations, potions, and powders to ensure the group can survive and thrive. Think about your close friends, you probably have someone who goes out of their way making sure you're ok; checks on you, brings you food, will stay up all night talking to you... a true blue friend, one you never worry about how you stand with.<br />
<br />
I bet, without even knowing them, I can pin their birthday to a monthlong window. Late August to Late September...Virgos (of which I am one), are the healers of the Zodiac, the fixers of problems. Virgos tend to be sensitive, empathetic, and honest, all good qualities...of course we also tend toward perfectionism, brutal self awareness of our own flaws, and a strong desire to make sure everyone around us is happy, and doing well, sometimes, oftentimes at the expense of if not our own happiness and well being at least somewhat detrimental to it.<br />
<br />
But all of that takes a heavy toll, being strong for others, holding everyone else up, picking up their pieces, wears you out. So if you are without a faithful friend of your own, a person who can help restore you, the road grows long. Over the last two years I have worn myself down to a nub, trying (and evidently failing, since she turned to others) to be strong for my then wife after we lost Jacob, trying to be strong for the boys, giving them a sure and comforting place of safety, trying to be strong for myself, to stay out of this pit of true despair and desperation. A pit I came dangerously close to, but was led away from by someone who will forever own a piece of my heart.<br />
<br />
Something I have yet to learn on my journey is how best to accomplish fixing myself..."Physician heal thyself." If I have an honest, full portrait of a friend's problem, I can tell them all the things they should do to have the best outcome possible...but my own pains and problems are so many trees in an endless forest. The struggle weighs you down, the strength and empathy and understanding all drain the reserves, and if you get too selfless, too invested in helping everyone else...well you become what I currently am, a shell...<br />
<br />
There are people I can turn to, talk to, people who have lightened my burdens, but I remain, especially during these last two years, guarded, distant, and don't let anyone in close enough to see the healer's true wounds. Perhaps because others who've seen my truest wounds have hurt me in my past, perhaps because I am still not sure anyone else could know how to fix a fixer, I stuggle along. It really is a hard thing, admitting, showing someone else those deep wounds, the ones that are scabbed over, but always ready to bleed again. It's hard because they aren't things we want anyone else to know about or see. But if we don't share them, it virtually guarantees we will never have the love we really want, and deserve.<br />
<br />
Now to be fair I have started counseling and my therapist is working really hard at showing me how to fix myself, so perhaps that will be the key that finally unlocks that door for myself. But learning how to fix myself, and learning how not to empty myself at the service of fixing someone else are mutually exclusive ideas.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-91117497649850812632016-05-05T19:30:00.001-07:002016-05-05T21:01:29.405-07:00Empathy, Loss, and the Social ContractSo, I get it, it's part of the human condition we must say something in times of great loss. It was one of my least favorite parts of dealing with losing Jake. The well meant, banal platitudes. Saying something, while essentially saying nothing.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Fortunately no one to my memory trotted out my least favorite of these "I know how you feel." Really, no, you don't... The only people, I would've accepted that from, my parents, said, we understand losing a child, but not at the level you guys do. Taking nothing away from their grief at the loss of their eldest child, my brother survived 40 hours before he passed. Jacob was a year and half. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Grief, the process of accepting, understanding, and coming to terms with the loss of someone we love, is a unique, and individual journey. I know how I feel/felt about the loss of my grandmother and grandfather. Losing them was like losing two of the brightest stars in my sky. Compass points I could always turn to on my journey, if I felt I was getting lost. However, I can't presume I understood that loss to the same level as my mother and her siblings did. It's different, it just is, the nature of the relationship colors everything, including how you grieve. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
No one who comes into my life now will understand the dynamic of my grief over Jacob. And even Traci's grief, is different than my own. We are getting closer and closer to this divorce being fully realized and finalized, but I can't imagine no matter where life takes us as we travel separate roads for the first time in half our lives, that we won't check in with each other and probably share some tears every August and February. </div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
And even people offering advice and well meaning platitudes about the divorce don't understand either. Because while every divorce is generally the same, the relationships being separated by it are different. Traci and I spent the bulk of our married life getting by, waiting for the next crisis, and alternately leaning on/needing each other and hating/blaming each other for the problems we each saw. We never learned to communicate effectively, to work on what pulled us together in the first place, and to attack the problems while they were small chips, before they were major cracks.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
That being said, I've seen that woman carry me on her back walking through Hell, laughing at the devil the whole way...She has iron in her veins. But she is also soft as butter on the Fourth of July. In our 16 years together, she taught me strength. I am forever indebted to her for that.<br />
<br />
I know as I begin to let go of all these things I cling to, out of familiarity I will eventually come out the other side, brighter, stronger, more fully realized. I'm finding outlets for the grief, using it to begin growing, to begin rebuilding.<br />
<br />
So be patient with me, share those well meant words of encouragement about how it'll get better, I'll be ok...but understand if I grumble about it.<br />
<br />
Who knows, I may yet grow enough to not refer to the last year and a half as The Darkest Timeline. Maybe I'll grow, change, adapt, and look back at this time, and see all the points of light I can't/don't/won't see and I'll notice them, realizing how well lit this road really is.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile the only way out is through, right, so I shuffle on, taking the steps, moving forward, only occasionally backward. </div>
Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-65272387896736572872016-04-28T10:55:00.002-07:002016-04-28T10:56:09.138-07:00Lonely Won't Leave Me Alone The worst part of this new transition from a wife and a houseful of kids to a crummy apartment and no one to come home to, is the solitude, the loneliness. At times it's almost soul crushing, the silence swallows you, and then it just makes it easy to fall into a depression and a funk.<br />
<br />
I've tried to fill the silence and the hole with video games, junk food, other baser pursuits, but I've realized that it's not going anywhere, so I guess I need to learn to enjoy my own company. That's a process. I would love a friend to "date" but that hasn't happened. Lord knows I'm too broken to be in any serious relationship, but I miss the company of someone of the opposite sex, just to talk to, be close to. Maybe I shouldn't want that right now and I should focus my energy purely on refining, rebuilding, myself.<br />
<br />
It's hard to go from constant companion, to solitude though. Like, real hard. I can't have that/be that with Traci anymore and that just causes damage to whatever strands still connect us, which I hate.<br />
<br />
I feel unlovable, and so utterly rejected, at times. That's hard, because I know somewhere out there is someone looking for everything I am, everything I can bring to the table. But the timing is off.<br />
<br />
It's hard work learning to love yourself. Especially if you're a persnickety, perfectionist, who tends to overestimate your own flaws. Add in the things that you never considered flaws that your ex says are just impossible to live with/accept and it becomes that much more difficult.<br />
<br />
I've had a lot of help getting to this stretch of road where I finally feel like I can slowly take honest looks at these things, stripped down to the bare bones. Decide which are flaws, which can I improve, which are just ingrained character traits, and which I like, regardless of the flaw, and love and accept those, and expect any future "friend" to just accept them as well.<br />
<br />
Meanwhile, I'm starting to almost like the quiet, if nothing else, I'm writing. Trying to read more, I picked up The Alchemist the other day. I've heard it's a pretty good read about self discovery and that journey.<br />
<br />
Plus I swiped some of the Tom Clancy books I didn't have yet, so time to read, write, embrace myself. Love myself, love others, be happy in my circumstances and let the good find me.<br />
<br />
I even watched A Few Good Men last night without someone complaining about it...to be fair, it's irresistible to me if I know it's on... I can't not watch...<br />
<br />
Lonely won't leave me alone, but I can choose to be happy/ok, with it.<br />
<br />
"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,<br />
And sorry I could not travel both<br />
And be one traveler, long I stood..."<br />
<br />
Time to pick a road and get moving. Standing still ain't doing no one any good.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-54999358663179782132016-04-26T20:10:00.000-07:002016-04-26T20:12:23.570-07:00Questions I Can't AnswerI used to love talking about my boys. I still do, but now it's awkward more than awesome. That's frustrating, although I suppose understandable.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoCSbvOw44WoJGVjLqBAHyqt7WxkKP19ZHecsqhWLutiuFA4geKJlFvOFGR-oEQic_Rk9HbcrWM7bc_Lx_Xit-CewVuDbOtYHbKoQcDunLZUff2QjCSz2h_VTaof_8MCNTzDxj895teQ/s1600/IMG_20140418_112806_134.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnoCSbvOw44WoJGVjLqBAHyqt7WxkKP19ZHecsqhWLutiuFA4geKJlFvOFGR-oEQic_Rk9HbcrWM7bc_Lx_Xit-CewVuDbOtYHbKoQcDunLZUff2QjCSz2h_VTaof_8MCNTzDxj895teQ/s320/IMG_20140418_112806_134.jpg" width="180" /></a>The question "How many kids do you have?" That one sucks...I mean at work, interacting with a guest, I say three and<br />
move on. But if it's someone I want to let know me, it's harder. When does one politely spring a deceased child into casual conversation. And will they find me too crass if I say I have three left..., as a means of acknowledging that I had more children before.<br />
<br />
It's easier everyday to talk about, and remember Jake. His sweet smile, his adorably demanding personality. I've decided he knew his clock was wound short, and he wanted all the attention. I'm ok with that. I still wish he had seen his daddy before the anger, before I was so lost in my pain and depression. I worry for the other three hoping I can get myself out of this before our relationships are tarnished.<br />
<br />
Navigating these waters is tricky, I want to honor, remember, and talk about my sweet boy, just as proudly as I talk about his brothers. But I don't want people to think I'm dwelling on the past, or being macabre, or weird. I just want Jocko to be loved by everyone who hears his story.<br />
<br />
We, as a family are anonymously famous, no one before or as far as I know, since has recurred with Hartsfield. We've done it twice. I mean that's worth telling people about, right...<br />
<br />
But beyond that, I want people to know about Jake's warrior spirit. His sweet little giggle. His harrumph noises as daddy squished him.<br />
<br />
I want to get back to the way I used to be, when someone asked me about my kids and my eyes would light up. I'm headed back to that, but I still have the moments when someone asks and my eyes well with tears, my voice catches and I'm unsure how to respond to questions about my boys.<br />
<br />
I find myself so angry at God so much of the time these days, that I turn to the Blessed Virgin a lot asking her intercession to ask for the things I need. I've started asking Jake to intercede for me too. Mostly I just like having a chat with him. I'm usually able to sort myself out after those talks.<br />
<br />
Please, ask me about my children, but understand if my breath catches, and I need a minute to start telling you how amazing my sons are.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-33501691428276364132016-04-25T18:08:00.000-07:002016-04-25T18:08:38.625-07:00Pain Don't HurtIf you know me, you know I love Patrick Swayze movies, especially the action ones. The title of this post is a reference to <a href="http://youtu.be/ygiLUrJJjnM" target="_blank">Road House</a>, my favorite Swayze flick. Trouble is <i>pain does hurt.</i> Particularly the mental/emotional type pain. It festers, it lingers, it becomes physical pain. The pain of loss, the loss of a child, becomes a crushing weight. We look at our children and we see a sort of immortality. To then be holding them, lifeless, cold, gone, just drains you. You lose your compass. Down is up, East is West...everything is wrong, nothing makes sense.<br />
<br />
Losing Jake was awful. And the aftermath just keeps increasing the confusion. I've spent the last 15 months searching, looking for a reason, clinging like a drowning man to the things that were there before Jake died, I thought I needed them, thought they were the definitions of happiness for me. I've recently realized that I was merely clinging to the familiar.<br />
<br />
A marriage that already had some severe cracks, saw its foundation crumble, saw itself collapse in the grief and mourning. A beautiful new home, that was a promise of a new beginning, now haunts me.<br />
<br />
I struggle with the idea that God kept me safe during my accident that morning, and yet Jacob died. I know God doesn't work that way, but still, why was I ok, why couldn't Jake fight off the infection. But, I've begun to realize that I can sit and stew and soak in the pain. Or I can acknowledge it, accept it, figure out how to grow from it, use it as a building block to create a brighter future.<br />
<br />
So, since I need to use that, and since writing has always been one of my healthier outlets, why not get back on this horse, and try to sort through this pain/confusion/emotional ball.<br />
<br />
So dear reader, a few promises, I'll try to write more. I'll try not to use this space for pity parties. I'll hopefully make you think, make you laugh. I might even make you cry.<br />
<br />
Thanks for taking this journey with me....let's see where the road takes us.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-21721435996119127162015-02-23T01:56:00.001-08:002015-02-23T01:57:09.469-08:00Wrestling With Grief<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Jacob was always different. But in our house, different is normal. He was our third boy, our second with Hartsfield Syndrome. He was born into a house filled with wrestling. I've had a lifelong on again/off again love affair with the squared circle. I have introduced my children to it as a distraction from the pain, frustration and sadness of our every day lives.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5akJaXoZfD4ylKuuBshxfMyE0m5gULiRR7KYbsWYhoPFsjAFCstVW6BSfB2R-j7ZA_FH9DiqjUGcsVlaUgWIqhbmaUzrAIOPq5khgoK-En6AHf-TNi8__Mpl-SkDa-uyImb0oXRHzyo/s1600/100_3556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE5akJaXoZfD4ylKuuBshxfMyE0m5gULiRR7KYbsWYhoPFsjAFCstVW6BSfB2R-j7ZA_FH9DiqjUGcsVlaUgWIqhbmaUzrAIOPq5khgoK-En6AHf-TNi8__Mpl-SkDa-uyImb0oXRHzyo/s1600/100_3556.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
Our journey as parents hasn't been an easy one. That history is well documented on this blog, and freely shared by Traci and myself. One thing that Tommy, Matt, Jake, and I, and someday when he is a little bigger, Collin will share is our fondness for escaping reality via the goings on in the WWE. <br />
<br />
Traci will tell you Matt is wrestling obsessed, and I agree the kid is in deep. Matt loves to wrestle his stuffed animals and he likes to do it on our bed, gets a pretty good bounce plus it makes a soft landing spot for his particular high impact style. Jacob loved to be a spectator, having mom and dad hold him while big brother hit devastating cross body blocks and pile drivers on his stuffed teddy bear, delighted Jake to no end.<br />
<br />
I love to toss the boys on the bed and wrestle them, Tommy is almost getting too big for the show, Matt is a good size and likes to play, Jake was just getting into it. He was finally shedding those infant fears and trusting that if daddy put him in the air daddy was going to bring him safely down. He was finally getting big enough that we could include him in romp time. What I had at one time dubbed the Living Room Wrestling Federation, because I used to toss the boys around during commercials of Monday Night Raw without getting off the living room floor. <br />
<br />
And now he is gone. No more Jake the destroyer of bed time. No more soft giggles as I land him gently on the pillow after an amazing maneuver. No more sitting in dad's arms watching Raw, or Smackdown, or that month's Pay Per View. <br />
<br />
I used to "squish" him together by pulling his shoulders in tight, if I pulled just a little he would cough, laugh and look up at me ready for one more squish. I miss that, <i><b>a lot</b></i>.<br />
<br />
I know Tommy had several wrestlers that he was a "mark" for, he used to squeal and get excited for John Cena. Lately though I am not sure Tommy has a favorite I think he just appreciates being included in the watching of the show. Matt's taste is decidedly heelish, he is a fan of Kane and seemingly every heel on the roster. I'm not sure Jake was old enough to have chosen a favorite. I think, much like Tommy, he was just happy being a part of it all.<br />
<br />
I just woke up from a dead sleep, dreaming I was discussing a match. Discussing in ring psychology with Daniel Bryan, explaining how to tell a story through the match. Something Bryan can do quite well. When I woke up my first thought wasn't, "huh I'm dreaming about Daniel Bryan." It was about my Jakers. It was about making sense of his loss through a cartoon world we immersed ourselves in to forget.<br />
<br />
A world Jake was too young to express true interest in. A soap opera of athleticism, and pageantry. Wrestling was always the siren song of escape. Three hours on a Monday night, Smackdown a couple times a month, a PPV spectacle once a month. It allowed us to escape into a place where there were no doctor's appointments, no syndromes, no struggles questioning my adequacy to parent these four boys; three of them saddled with this terrible syndrome.<br />
<br />
Lately it has been my own personal escape from my own depression over finding out that I am the carrier of the bad genetics which gave my son's their genetic failings. Now in the week and a half since Jake died I'll take any escape I can get.<br />
<br />
Anything which turns my brain off a little bit. Anything that can do that while still maintaining the appearance of normal, if for no other reason than Matt deserves as much normal as we can maintain right now. My four year old is currently showing us the way through our grief. If we cry he points at the picture board we made for the visitation and implores us to look at it and be happy. He reminds us we can talk to Jake any time we want. We can still blow him kisses and tell him we love him.<br />
<br />
That is true we can do all those things, but I can't pick him up, toss him into his mommy's pillow and then hold him down for the one, two, three count.<br />
<br />
Last year one of the biggest luminaries of the pro wrestling world passed on. The Ultimate Warrior had just made peace with Vince McMahon and been inducted into the WWE Hall of Fame. On the night after Wrestlemania he came out and told the fans what makes a Superstar one of the immortals:<br />
<i>"Every man’s heart one day beats its final beat. His lungs breathe a
final breath. And if what that man did in his life makes the blood pulse
through the body of others and makes them bleed deeper and something
larger than life then his essence, his spirit, will be immortalized."</i><br />
<br />
Traci and I can struggle with the pain of how Jake's life ended. (Caution amateur medical evaluation ahead) Apparently he was in a state of near constant seizure activity that ultimately didn't allow his brain to realize he could fight through the respiratory illness he had, so his body shut down.<br />
<i> </i><br />
We can affix blame about things done, by ourselves and others, that may have contributed to Jake's death. Or we can tell his story. We can let the things he did cause the blood to pulse in our veins and he can live on, through us, through his brothers, through everyone who ever met our little divo.<br />
<br />
He was very much one who loved to be the center of attention. I am sure he arrived in Heaven, saw an altar and assumed it was placed there for him. I hope Jesus was able to convince him, that he didn't always need to be the star, because his mom and dad sure couldn't.<br />
<br />
The house is so much quieter, too quiet, without him. Collin is beginning to find his voice and I am sure his big brother is up in Heaven encouraging it with his sly little smile.<br />
<br />
I guess in some ways as long as I have been a father I have worried about outliving my children. Tommy was such a mystery in the early days and seemed so fragile, but as he grew Traci and I begin to believe he was indestructible. A quality we quickly ascribed to Jake and Collin as well. Perhaps that is why this hurts so much. We were invincible, we would see the stories on the Families for HoPE Facebook, mourn the loss of children younger than our own, and wonder about how tough our little guys were.<br />
<br />
Jake was tough as nails just like Tommy. From the minute Jake was born I was so sure he was Tommy 2.0 that sometimes I had to remind myself he was Jake 1.0. They handled their pain differently but they were both tough as a two-dollar steak.<br />
<br />
I hope Jacob knows how much I loved him. I spent so much of his life
angry. Angry at our lot in life, angry at finding out I was to blame for
the poor genetics, angry at so much. I wish I could do it all over, I
wish he could see the me that wasn't angry all the time. Irony of
ironies, Traci and I had just started counseling. The tipping point
there was her pointing out my anger, it hit me like a ton of bricks. I
knew I needed to change, I didn't want my sons to see their dad as a
bitter. angry man. That's not who I am. <br />
<br />
RIP Jacob. I know you are up in Heaven now looking down on us, trying to find a way to ease our pain. Ask God to give us the grace, the strength, whatever we need to mourn your loss, while we keep moving forward. Be there for us in the quiet, speak to us in our pain. Hold us as we cry, comfort us as we mourn.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-4423832093670615982014-08-21T21:21:00.002-07:002014-08-21T21:21:32.195-07:00Brokenness, Beauty and PainHello again blog readers. I know I haven't written in some time. But I need to start again, else I'll go crazy. So Traci and I are now the parents of four beautiful sons. Three of whom are affected by Hartsfield Syndrome. We have made genetic history again. Though it's a lot simpler when you realize your odds are 50/50.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaRs9Bo9cTNKEt010iiTGKRrcWPkixdITzLoci0dZNHHmkVzDXVnB-dVmZmLlEqX00hbbkAKz2Wm96GKlddeRhpEhTMIJIydX5vqfMguQF0RfJg4EpYJ0L8lc_2ydIowQlady5ZFcRQ7g/s1600/20140820_164510.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaRs9Bo9cTNKEt010iiTGKRrcWPkixdITzLoci0dZNHHmkVzDXVnB-dVmZmLlEqX00hbbkAKz2Wm96GKlddeRhpEhTMIJIydX5vqfMguQF0RfJg4EpYJ0L8lc_2ydIowQlady5ZFcRQ7g/s1600/20140820_164510.jpg" height="320" width="180" /></a></div>
Collin was born August 13. So we kept our August birthday streak alive, but his is ten days after the other two. When we got pregnant last year, I remember Traci taking a pregnancy test as a lark, when I kept telling her she had to be pregnant. She came out of the bathroom, holding the test and looked at me and said, "Now what do we do, I took the test so I could tell you to leave me alone about being pregnant."<br />
<br />
A flurry of anxiety hit both of us, but then I said, "Well don't worry, this baby will surely be a typical child, and be a spark of fun and humor like Matt." Then it came time for ultrasounds. Traci and I were excited because at one of his first ones it clearly looked like he had five budding fingers on a hand and was waving at us. But course, the more ultrasounds we saw, the more brokenness we saw. But yet we held out hope. Maybe he would be so mildly affected we wouldn't even have to deal with any issues.<br />
<br />
As I said Collin took his first breaths at around 5 o clock, on the 13th. We soon discovered he would be no easy case. Though he does have a full complement of fingers. His cleft is more severe, he has an as yet undiagnosed lump on his nose, either it is a proboscis, or an encephalocele. So he either has a lump of spare nose parts or brain matter clinging to his face. Awesome.<br />
<br />
It's been a struggle trying to find time to be at the hospital with him, trying to find time for the other three, trying to find a moment to breathe and process and thank God for the new life he has given us charge over.<br />
<br />
Admittedly I haven't done a whole lot of that last one. Being a parent is supposed to be the greatest gift we have We participate in the Fatherhood of God Almighty. Why is my participation such a struggle. Why are we the ones force to find beauty in the broken. <br />
<br />
I've written before about understanding Simon the Cyrenian's place. Being forced to do something you don't want to do, that will have a great impact beyond yourself. But lately it just feels so much more like just pain, there is no beauty in the sandbox, it's full of glass, full of broken pottery, discarded like yesterday's breakfast. <br />
<br />
Last year when we found out about Jake I leaned heavily on the song "Nothing is Wasted," by Jason Gray. The song essentially says that no pain, no moment in your life is wasted, That Christ will put the pieces all together and make you whole one day. The song spoke so clearly to me, the circumstances of my first hearing of the song, all seemed like He had written the song specifically for me.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmon-jvQpPFzRm1rW5cqGk3Z20K0sKb9Z7WZb-xY12DMDXFA-ym7mEUZFUhMqEP7sgplA_VS7NUEIeDc4L717WTqd5xYnexT4qiKiRjeioYD0jf7l6qBk-j9nw7hCw0v52ohcK3m2r7g/s1600/CollinRayeEpic002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfmon-jvQpPFzRm1rW5cqGk3Z20K0sKb9Z7WZb-xY12DMDXFA-ym7mEUZFUhMqEP7sgplA_VS7NUEIeDc4L717WTqd5xYnexT4qiKiRjeioYD0jf7l6qBk-j9nw7hCw0v52ohcK3m2r7g/s1600/CollinRayeEpic002.jpg" height="231" width="320" /></a>Interesting side note about young Collin he is essentially named after Collin Raye, the country singer. One day I was listening to a CD of his, all religious songs, and I thought the name Collin Michael. I came home and told Traci, I had a great name for the new one. Over time she fell in love with the name as I had. It seems kind of fitting it wasn't long after our meeting Mr. Raye, that she found out she was pregnant. <br />
<br />
But Lord this one hurts. I even entertained the idea of a vasectomy, I was in so much pain after hearing another Hartsfield diagnosis. Traci had a down moment herself the other day, as we sat in Collin's room, she was so very sad and asking why his soul couldn't have gone to a family that made "normal children."<br />
<br />
I told her that his soul had been a part of our family since before time began. That, I do believe. Collin's theme song has been "I Get What I Need," from our good friend Collin Raye. It's a song about how sometimes we pray for things, anticipating getting one thing, but then God gives us something else, which in turn produces the desired result, but not from the way we wanted it.<br />
<br />
I guess this is just me whining and complaining about everyone else's garden looks so easy to tend and yet ours is so, so difficult. My sons are beautiful, all four of them and I wouldn't want to not have any of them, yet the pain, the sleepless nights, the sadness all take their toll.<br />
<br />
You really shouldn't have to worry about outliving your children, and yet I do. To the point the idea has kept me up way too late too many times.<br />
<br />
One bright side perhaps is that Matt seems much less terrified of Collin than he was of Jake. It took quite a while last year for Matt to go near Jake, but this year, before the summer cold of doom, gripped us the times he did see his new baby brother, he pronounced him as "Cuute." <br />
<br />
That kid has become my sanity, it's a hell of a lot to put on a four year old. Too much. So I don't tell him that, I just frequently take him with me when I do even the most mundane of errands.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-79990864468383024202014-03-06T20:07:00.001-08:002014-03-06T22:42:57.236-08:00Simon the Cyrenian and Me<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsqP_ja9YywNIcTg_8yI2fSKx-8Gyq2qrEhUQVZJHkIiNdOuP-5hAkYySm4f604QRNyeiCPjhM0Bv66-ic7Axld7yGEUOsSTwP1P8BkDXmVPQGe3ipte2VNIkspoJVVMs2eX4RDSdDeY/s1600/Simon.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdsqP_ja9YywNIcTg_8yI2fSKx-8Gyq2qrEhUQVZJHkIiNdOuP-5hAkYySm4f604QRNyeiCPjhM0Bv66-ic7Axld7yGEUOsSTwP1P8BkDXmVPQGe3ipte2VNIkspoJVVMs2eX4RDSdDeY/s1600/Simon.jpg" height="320" width="225" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Simon of Cyrene helping Christ carry the cross</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I came to an interesting realization the other day, I am a lot like Simon the Cyrenian, pressed into service to help another person carrying their cross. I had this realization after a Facebook thread with <a href="http://catholicdefense.blogspot.com/" target="_blank">Shameless Popery</a>'s Joe Heschmeyer.<br />
<br />
The comment that sparked the notion was Joe telling me he admired how I had borne my crosses in life. To me I guess I've never really thought of them as my own crosses. I suppose it helped that after Tommy was born I was praying a Rosary. Meditating on the sorrowful mysteries and during the decade for the carrying of the cross it hit me this condition is Tommy's cross.<br />
<br />
<br />
Even with that I had never seen the connection of myself as the mysterious Cyrenian pressed into service aiding Christ on the way to Calvary. But driving home the other day the analogy just hit me. Now in some ways perhaps you think I am overstating the importance of Tommy or Jake, I don't think either of them are God Incarnate, but I do think they have an important role to play in my own salvation, if nothing else.<br />
<br />
<br />
I've become a better person and a better husband, because of my children. I've also become a better believer. That belief has been hard won. There have been many times I have been ready to give up on faith only to have those little moments that reconfirm it all for me.<br />
<br />
<br />
Of course it used to be all about Tommy, but then we had Jake, and became famous (anonymously) once again as we became the first family to have a repeat of a Hartsfield diagnosis. Jake is an awesome little dude, but it has been a challenge, dealing with the diagnosis through the pregnancy, having to tell the doctors to can their "we can terminate this pregnancy" speech. But again, the crosses we had to bear sort of ended once he was borne, and now we are helping him to bear his cross.<br />
<br />
<br />
I've always wondered about Simon, he gets about a sentence worth of recognition in each of the synoptic gospels (Mt. 27:32, Mk 15:21, Lk 23:26). Pretty short shrift for a guy forced into essentially keeping the Son of God alive long enough, so that they can kill him how they want.<br />
<br />
<br />
Who was he? What happened to him after this experience. Did he believe? Before/after? <br />
<br />
<br />
All we know is that in one of the absolute worst moments for Christ, he was the one to help bear the burden. Yes he was pressed into service, but he took on the obligation, fulfilled his duty.<br />
<br />
Being a parent in some ways is like that, I mean at least hopefully, you aren't forced into it. But you do have to help your children bear the burdens of growing up. Even if your children aren't special needs you do everything you can to help ease their troubles. Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-23159158615608044272013-03-14T14:38:00.003-07:002013-03-14T14:39:17.045-07:00Transubstantiation Pt. 3<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKTB4SiLUkcI8IPlEci_o68RNdcNbDZM5KZ9Bs-I3AgCtNaZldbvW541Y4yK1oJV5qTzxHtwFN_mYlcMVL0KIH_uUhGIn7H-5ZYpPG-NIoWYpisDNo1wrSR3CUcCghQkWEk6oGEwDs90/s1600/eucharist.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyKTB4SiLUkcI8IPlEci_o68RNdcNbDZM5KZ9Bs-I3AgCtNaZldbvW541Y4yK1oJV5qTzxHtwFN_mYlcMVL0KIH_uUhGIn7H-5ZYpPG-NIoWYpisDNo1wrSR3CUcCghQkWEk6oGEwDs90/s320/eucharist.gif" width="214" /></a></div>
Previously I said I wanted to take an in depth look from the totality of the Bible as to how Transubstantiation is definitively supported with the scriptures from Genesis to Revelation. As I mentioned Hiram Diaz seems to find no single verse of scripture from which to see a defense of the Catholic position.<br />
<br />
Strange, because the totality of scriptures seem to me to be loaded with them. The first reference to a blessing of bread and wine comes in Genesis 14:18 when Abram meets Melchizedek. Abram is returning from battle when the priest (Melchizedek) comes out and blesses the bread and wine and gives it to him.<br />
<br />
Fine you might say it's bread and wine. That doesn't support Transubstantiation on its own, but it helps build the house. We see in Hebrews 7 that Melchizedek is a type of Christ. He offered bread and wine to Abram, which is the same thing Christ offers to the Twelve that night in the Upper Room.<br />
<br />
While they were held as slaves in Egypt the Israelites found someone who would lead them to freedom, Moses. God told the Israelites to celebrate a special feast, Passover. He would go through the land slaughtering the firstborn sons of Egypt, but the Jewish people would be spared because of blood from a freshly slaughtered Lamb on their doors.<br />
<br />
The Passover feast had some special rules. Each family was to take a spotless firstborn male lamb from their flock, slaughter it and roast it. They were also told that the entire lamb had to be consumed, nothing could be left overnight. They were also to throw out all the leaven and eat only unleavened bread.<br />
<br />
Interestingly enough especially later on anyone desiring to take part in the Passover feast had to be a Jew. It was a closed feast, that will come back up later.<br />
<br />
I mentioned previously that Hiram Diaz refused to answer my question regarding whether the lamb was to be eaten. I think he knew where I would take him if he answered me. Revelation that great and terrible book that closes scripture. In between all of the frightful bits of prophesy Revelation is actually a great Passover liturgy.<br />
<br />
Interestingly in chapter 5 we see Christ referred to as the lion of Judah and the root of David. However when St. John looks he sees a lamb appearing as though it has been slain Rev. 5:5-8. Why is the victorious Christ, vanquisher of death, crusher of sin, seen in His heavenly glory sitting on His throne as a newly slain lamb? Because as we learn in Hebrews 13:8 Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever. Since time began He has been the lamb slain for the remission of sin.<br />
<br />
That being said, if even in his heavenly glory Christ is the newly slain lamb of the Passover. He must even during the Incarnation have still existed outside of time as humans know it, thus for Him the Law has always been fulfilled. Thus rendering any attempt to turn Transubstantiation into some sort of sin against the Law moot.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOH0nEmqaP3-IJd1JaLV73n3oLxO2mdEOTFioYQITKyzuOnPUjphGA5bC7Up9nAdpp1wxBoesY3r9umQpqK7F263-Si6du7FWE3Rv0IFtO-9eIp1QAtqhgOTmNBtbDvgiZdsAcoE680w/s1600/lastsupp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="166" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdOH0nEmqaP3-IJd1JaLV73n3oLxO2mdEOTFioYQITKyzuOnPUjphGA5bC7Up9nAdpp1wxBoesY3r9umQpqK7F263-Si6du7FWE3Rv0IFtO-9eIp1QAtqhgOTmNBtbDvgiZdsAcoE680w/s320/lastsupp.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Let's go back to that Upper Room, Christ having "eagerly desired" to celebrate one last Passover with His apostles reclines at table with the Twelve Lk. 22:12.Christ then takes the bread and wine blessing them and sharing them with the apostles: Cf. Matthew 26:26-28; Mark 14:22-24; 1 Corinthians 11:21-25.<br />
<br />
Curiously the institution narrative is absent in John's Gospel. However in John 6 we see the famous Bread of Life discourse in which Christ explains that for His disciples to have eternal life they must eat His flesh and drink His blood.<br />
<br />
Some of you out there might now be saying sure but none of this says that a priest can say some words over a wafer of bread and a cup of wine and make it truly the Body of Christ or the Blood of Christ. Indeed that is never directly taught. However it is clear that Christ intends for the Apostles to be the beginning of a new ministerial priesthood. As such He implores them to repeat the blessing over the bread and wine "Do this in memory of Me."<br />
<br />
The New Testament ministerial priesthood is perfectly foretold in the Old Testament as Malachi 1:11 shows. The prophet describes a time when God's name would be great even among the Gentiles and a "perfect offering" would be made to Him, from the rising of the sun to its setting.<br />
<br />
Pretty sure you will find a Catholic Mass being offered somewhere in the world every hour of every day of every year. Save for Good Friday, no Mass that day, no sacraments at all in fact, except in cases of dire need. <br />
<br />
So Communion for a Catholic is all about receiving the Lord whole and entire: Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity with every reception of the sacrament. It is a closed feast like the OT Passover after all we have to protect the solemnity and dignity of such a great mystery.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0s6l103AdZq94MfbWGmuTf-sVGJiwkU7f30jipKsGMMvjl-JrO_HwlJ4LoDgKFIr7aafh6UK5cxMVMAoq7dXOeDNHpzXwLafIduTuYDzoV5mSvegIn9ogDzjpIszplj1uczCVM13PvQ/s1600/Benedict+Eucharist.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="130" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH0s6l103AdZq94MfbWGmuTf-sVGJiwkU7f30jipKsGMMvjl-JrO_HwlJ4LoDgKFIr7aafh6UK5cxMVMAoq7dXOeDNHpzXwLafIduTuYDzoV5mSvegIn9ogDzjpIszplj1uczCVM13PvQ/s200/Benedict+Eucharist.jpg" width="200" /></a>The actual mechanics of what happens to transform the bread and wine are just that a mystery, part of the great exercise of faith.<br />
<br />
For me the faith stands or falls on this one thing, that is why I go to such lengths to defend it. It's also why I get so angry about people who are so derisive about it, especially without a sound attempt at a refutation. Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-63198287529449472862013-03-13T13:20:00.000-07:002013-03-13T13:20:52.647-07:00Habemus PapamI know I promised a post on Transubstantiation today but I can't focus. We have a pope. Jesuit Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio.<br />
<br />
Viva El Papa....Yes in Spanish, after all he's from Argentina.<br />
<br />
<img height="385" id="irc_mi" src="http://i.usatoday.net/_common/_notches/1663503b-c413-4a34-b117-956919c2c9fc-Bergoglio01manual.jpg" style="margin-top: 50px;" width="514" />Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-56525633235231886392013-03-12T15:02:00.000-07:002013-03-12T15:03:36.254-07:00Transubstantiation and Invincible IgnoranceSo Saturday night I just couldn't sleep, stupid Daylight Savings Time messes me up every time. I started to cruise around some old internet faves, including <a href="http://involutedgenealogies.wordpress.com/2013/01/23/a-clearer-refutation-of-the-heresy-of-transubstantiation/#comment-1697" target="_blank">Hiram Diaz's blog</a>. I know I shouldn't go looking for a fight, but sometimes it's irresistible.<br />
<br />
Mr. Diaz was at it again back in January attempting to refute Transubstantiation one more time. According to himself he has done it up real nice. However he still falls into the same logical pits he always has. First off stating in his post that there was in fact no scriptural basis for the most central of Catholic beliefs.<br />
<br />
Well of course I had to respond. Citing John 6: 53-58 I reminded him that Christ in fact issued the command His own self. Five times in five verses in fact, Christ says just that. I knew what would be coming and sure enough his initial reply was a no reply. I was "question begging," sure I said I am begging you to answer to my questions.<br />
<br />
Bottom line I still haven't gotten an answer as to how one should interpret those verses seeing as they entail a direct command from Christ. Just a lot of dancing around about how my position entails a logical contradiction, or how it violates the Levitical laws. <br />
<br />
I'm even willing to stipulate it does violate the Levitical law, however Christ fulfilled the law. Which is another sticking point for us because we differ as to when and how the law was fulfilled.<br />
<br />
Largely Diaz lashes about wildly kicking at a wall in a house built on rock and saying there I knocked your whole house down. Well the big bad wolf routine is amusing but ineffective. <br />
<br />
Perhaps he fails to realize that Catholic dogmas all build and layer into one another; thus refuting Transubstantiation requires a little more than throwing around the idea that it violates the Law. It requires more than his pet theory regarding the state of Christ's body and whether the Real Presence is Christ's mortal or Resurrected body.<br />
<br />
I have largely decided that Diaz is perhaps one of the invincibly ignorant. I thought they were a myth, like Sasquatch or the Loch Ness Monster. <br />
<br />
I even attempted to reframe the question asking about whether Old Testament Jews were required to eat the Passover Lamb. He flatly refused to answer the question, I feel he probably knew (thus maybe his ignorance is a choice and not invincible) that I would lead him from the OT to the New showing how Jesus as the new lamb of the Passover had to be eaten.<br />
<br />
It's an interesting look through the lens of salvation history one I will go even further in depth on tomorrow. Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-13658807622461018682012-12-08T20:44:00.000-08:002012-12-08T20:44:37.207-08:00The Year of Living CatholiclyThe title of this post refers to my planned New Year's Resolution. I intend to spend next year trying to truly live my Catholic faith. This could be a bigger undertaking than any I have thus far tried.<br />
<br />
The idea sort of germinated for me from a few places. One of them being Matthew Kelly's wonderful book <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Rediscover-Catholicism-Spiritual-Passion-Purpose/dp/B004UAO67Y/ref=sr_1_12?ie=UTF8&qid=1355026854&sr=8-12&keywords=matthew+kelly" target="_blank"><i>Rediscover Catholicism</i></a>. In it Kelly declares that one of the major reasons for so much of life's problems being a largely listless, Godless world. A world seeking, but not knowing what to truly seek.<br />
<br />
Another germination point for me was the realization that I want my kids to grow up as more than Cafeteria Catholics I want them to understand the Why's and How's of our faith.<br />
<br />
After a recent difficult patch at work, I really turned to the Lord and the Saints. I knew I needed help to break past the things that were holding me back. I wasn't meeting my weekly production standards and didn't know where else to turn. I started a novena to the Sacred Heart, and to St. Joseph, and I started just praying to Therese of Lisieux. It worked I suddenly started exceeding my standard and doing much better at work. <br />
<br />
I never do manage to pray nine nights in a row on my novenas, the weekends come and I am always too tired or distracted to say my prayers. That's a bad thing it is one of the things I want to fix.<br />
<br />
So I have been developing a five point plan: Rosary, Fasting and Abstinence, Mass, Confession and Scripture.<br />
<br />
I plan to start saying the Rosary, at least once a week for starters, with an intention to increase the number of days I say it. I picked the Rosary because I know it is a devastating weapon in the Holy war those of us in the Church Militant are engaged in. I didn't want to just commit to a certain amount of time in daily prayer I wanted a meaningful prayer life. <br />
<br />
I am going to return to the proper tradition of fasting and abstinence on Fridays, in honor of the Lord's Passion. I might just be an "early adopter" here as there is wind that Cardinal Dolan as head of the USCCB might just return all US Catholics to the proper Friday rules. Bully for him I hope he does.<br />
<br />
As for Mass I don't think my work schedule will allow me to make daily Mass too often, but I need to desperately improve my overall attendance. I also am going to (for the first time ever) make it to Mass for all of the Holy Days. After all why shouldn't I pay proper reverence to my creator. Besides frequent reception of Communion will help strengthen me for the rest of my plan right. <br />
<br />
Confession is good for the soul they say right. Well I know mine always feels better after a visit to the "Sin Bin". Confession can be a very nerve racking experience. But it is so nice to walk out afterwards, perform your penance and know that the Lord loves you and forgives your misdeeds.<br />
<br />
And the final point in my plan, I'm going to knuckle down and read the Bible. The whole thing. I made good headway a couple years ago but this time I'm going to do it. I will also try and push through the Catechism too.<br />
<br />
I figure if I can do all of that, not only will I be a better Catholic, I will probably be a better husband and father, too. Which isn't a bad thing since baby number three is on the way. I should probably brush up on my husbanding and fathering. <br />
<br />
If I can find a few spare minutes each week I intend to sort of post a weekly report card as I go... Gives me a year's worth of weekly blog posts right.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-9350199460414157742012-11-16T13:41:00.002-08:002012-11-16T13:47:56.643-08:00The R Word and the Day I Nearly Lost My JobLet me start this post by saying I used to tell people I didn't have a problem with the R word. You know the one, rhymes with guard.<br />
<br />
Well I found out a few days ago I have a real problem with it.
I still say I don't have a problem with the word used in a clinical setting to describe the proper condition. Mind you I still bristle a little at it being used as for Tommy, because it won't fit properly once he can tell us what he knows.<br />
<br />
Anyway on to the real story....
At work there is a young kid (well he told me once he's 25), but he's still a young kid. Let's call him Mumbles. He and I don't necessarily get along well, but he stepped way over a line.
Before we start work we do a little stretching and whatnot.<br />
<br />
We were doing that as our supervisor was handing out some of our daily paperwork. Supervisor guy said something that I felt needed a wise ass remark (hey it's what I do, especially at 5:30 in the morning).
My remark led to some sniping back and forth between Mumbles and I. Fine whatever it's a warehouse this happens, no biggie. Well after our stretch and meeting are done I go over and bring some carts.
Quick job overview basically what I do consists of filling big totes of food, putting the totes onto carts, which loaders then put on trucks.<br />
<br />
So anyway I come into the cooler and see Mumbles peeling load stickers and filling his rate sheet. (That's how they track our productivity). I look down the aisle in the cooler and see that I won't be able to pull the carts where they need to go because there are six or so pallets of totes blocking everything.
My mood of being a little aggravated shoots up a couple notches.<br />
<br />
Still no big deal but since I am already angry I jump on Mumbles...
"Why are you peeling stickers when we can't work until those pallets are moved. How stupid can you be to not notice them, or are you just being lazy."<br />
<br />
He came back at me, funny thing I don't even remember what he said here just that it certainly didn't defuse my anger.
We continue going back and forth only now I had to step off my tugger (The machine we use to pull our carts) and get the pallet jack and move stuff.
Seriously angry now.
Probably continuing to chew his ass out more than I need to, but I am pissed.<br />
<br />
So I'm pulling a pallet along wondering aloud how he can breathe and walk at the same time, when he drops the bomb. The R word.
Ok, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.<br />
<br />
Why did he have to go there.<br />
<br />
Verbatim this is what he said.
"Mike, don't be a retard like your son."<br />
<br />
I drop the handle on the pallet jack take about a step and a half to close the 10 feet between us to about two.
"What did you say? What the F (Oh I used the whole word) did you just say?"
He repeats it, thus ensuring I was right he had just laid that word down.
"Don't ever let me hear you say that word, ever again!!!!!"
I was hot.<br />
<br />
My hands were at my sides but my fists were clenched and ready.
"Mike are you going to stop trying to intimidate me so we can get to work. Because if you strike me you will be fired."<br />
<br />
What kind of weasel says strike in that context, anyway. Say hit.
Let me tell you it took everything I had to keep from "striking" him.<br />
<br />
Even now a week and a half later my fists clench as I write the story. I almost wish I had hit him, if for no other reason than when I got home and told the story to Traci, Tommy became visibly upset.
I let it go that day, should have turned around and went right to my boss, but I did tell him and HR the next day.<br />
<br />
Mumbles still hasn't apologized, further proof he is a little boy not a man. A man would nut up and say hey what I said about your son I'm sorry.
So ultimately, I guess I do mind the R word. I mind it very much. Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-59492330197312676342012-11-13T18:09:00.001-08:002012-11-13T18:09:22.172-08:00Still Alive...Just wanted to say, I'm not dead just been seriously busy. Have a post or two on the way soon.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-87727638650752832242012-08-08T08:11:00.001-07:002012-08-08T08:11:53.512-07:00For KelseyThirty-one year old's aren't supposed to die. They are supposed to be in the prime of life. Especially 31-year old former athletes. Lost one of the gentlest people I ever knew and one of the most genuine the other day.<br />
<br />
We hadn't talked in years and we weren't necessarily all that close to begin with but this one has knocked me for a loop.<br />
<br />
God Speed Kelsey, May you rest in peace. Here's hoping you are kicking around heaven's basketball courts in an old pair of sneakers with your mom watching from the sidelines.<br />
<br />
Here's a <a href="http://www.lcsun-news.com/las_cruces-news/ci_21257881/former-o-241-ate-nmsu-standout-crooks-dead" target="_blank">link to my hometown paper's report</a>. <br />
<br />
<table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" style="width: 601px;"><tbody>
<tr><td align="CENTER"><span style="color: #9c9c63;"><span><b>To An Athlete Dying Young</b></span></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="CENTER" bgcolor="#ffffff" border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0">
<tbody>
<tr><td>T<span>HE</span> time you won your town the race</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="1"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>We chaired you through the market-place;</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="2"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Man and boy stood cheering by,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="3"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And home we brought you shoulder-high.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="4"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>To-day, the road all runners come,</td><td align="right" valign="top"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="5"><i> 5</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Shoulder-high we bring you home,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="6"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And set you at your threshold down,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="7"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Townsman of a stiller town.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="8"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>Smart lad, to slip betimes away</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="9"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>From fields where glory does not stay,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="10"><i> 10</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And early though the laurel grows</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="11"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>It withers quicker than the rose.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="12"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>Eyes the shady night has shut</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="13"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Cannot see the record cut,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="14"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And silence sounds no worse than cheers</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="15"><i> 15</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>After earth has stopped the ears:</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="16"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>Now you will not swell the rout</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="17"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Of lads that wore their honours out,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="18"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Runners whom renown outran</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="19"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And the name died before the man.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="20"><i> 20</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>So set, before its echoes fade,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="21"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>The fleet foot on the sill of shade,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="22"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And hold to the low lintel up</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="23"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>The still-defended challenge-cup.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="24"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td> </td></tr>
<tr><td>And round that early-laurelled head</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="25"><i> 25</i></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>Will flock to gaze the strengthless dead,</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="26"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>And find unwithered on its curls</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="27"> </a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td>The garland briefer than a girl's.</td><td align="RIGHT" valign="TOP"><span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=6053321722064045465" name="28"> </a></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-35219922215278290982012-08-02T13:30:00.000-07:002012-08-02T13:30:43.919-07:00Five Years of Fatherhood...."A child arrived just the other day..." (If you are just tuning in start with this <a href="http://michaelcmorris.blogspot.com/2011/01/i-wasnt-ready-for-that.html" target="_blank">post</a>)<br />
<br />
Ok this won't be some weepy post on how I haven't been there for Tommy, or even Matty. Because I have, maybe not always well but I have been there.<br />
<br />
I just can't believe Tommy turned five as we closed the page on July...Five years just seem to have gone by so fast.<br />
<br />
I have seen so much from him in five years, I have learned so much: from how to advocate in a gently non-threatening way to meet his needs, to let go and trust the hands and experience of others, he has taught me so much.<br />
<br />
He continues to bring everyone who meets him joy. He is such a happy darn kid all the time. I wish I could bottle and sale his positivity and happy nature.<br />
<br />
I think most of what I have learned in these five years is that Tommy is who he is not because of anything Traci or I did. Seems like it should have been an easy thing to learn, right. It was surprisingly difficult. I still have a lot of times when I watch Matt do something and I start thinking how awesome and smart he is. Then I start feeling guilty because I am enjoying him doing something that his big brother can't. <br />
<br />
I suppose that's probably normal some sort of survivor's guilt or something. It's been awesome since we moved to Minnesota though because the doctors at Gillette seem totally invested in finding ways to help Tommy achieve things. <br />
<br />
Since we moved/started seeing docs at Gillette Tommy has really turned into a rolling machine he can roll onto his tummy, seemingly any time he wants. He is such a ball of energy and it seems like we might finally be starting to break his tone enough to allow him to do some things.<br />
<br />
Seriously though its been five years. Seems like it was just yesterday. I still remember telling the helicopter crew there was no way I wouldn't be on that helicopter with him, weight be damned. I suspect a part of me was so terrified he might die or something I couldn't handle me or Traci not being with him.<br />
<br />
I love you, Tommy...Here's to many, many more years of marveling at where the time has gone.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-88691183722775135242012-06-27T20:02:00.000-07:002012-06-27T20:02:08.384-07:00About A BoyI suppose it is natural to be thinking about fatherhood right now. After all Father's Day has just passed us by.<br />
<br />
But I have been thinking about a story, one I have played with on this blog and have told you all a little bit of. It is the story of my son Tommy. It's really my story, but it began with him. After all for the last five years I have struggled to finally grow up and become the man I need to be to handle the awesome responsibility God has given me.<br />
<br />
I guess a lot of my struggle continues to be how open to I let myself be to potentially millions, ok thousands, fine tens of strangers reading my blog. Truth is the story hurts. Sometimes a lot...sometimes just a little.<br />
<br />
Here's the thing though, because of Tommy I am a better man than I was. Because of Tommy I am slowly becoming a better more faithful Catholic. Because of Tommy I am finally learning to truly Let Go and Let God.<br />
<br />
It is hard, very hard, everything in my nature says I need to make it better. Then in the still small silence when I force myself to listen and accept everything I know about God I realize that isn't my job. <br />
<br />
A fellow blogger actually told me a while back that I should tell Tommy's story and I said to her and myself yes I should but then I ran away from it again. The thing is part of me says Tommy is such a rare case who wants to read about a condition they won't likely ever see. But so many of his symptoms/issues are common to so many other things that I suspect many people could likely be helped or help us in ways I haven't even imagined. <br />
<br />
So I guess I need to throw my heart open and let the world look at it in full. Who knows maybe I will help someone along the way, or maybe someone will help me.<br />
<br />
Basically ever since Tommy's birth my one operating goal in life is to some day get to a point where I am a good enough father, husband and man that my kids will be proud of the fact that I am their dad.<br />
<br />
It seems like I have come so far in five years, but I sure feel a long way off way too often still.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-8354560574951560192012-06-01T21:46:00.000-07:002012-06-01T21:46:06.189-07:00Is It Finally Time?Well is it, finally, decidedly, time for Catholics in America to realize that the Democrats, are actively trying to destroy the Church?<br />
<br />
Feel like that opening sentence is too harsh? I don't, just examine the evidence.<br />
<br />
The Obama administration has practically had a bulls-eye on the Church from day one. They wanted desperately to get FOCA to the floor of the House and Senate, a bill that would have done what the HHS mandate is currently set to do. Force Catholic hospitals and health care to pay for, perform abortions and provide contraception. I'm not sure Obama has ever seriously considered actually living up to his oath of office. You know that whole part about protecting and defending the Constitution....Haven't seen a lick of that.<br />
<br />
The thing is I get why a lot of people of my grandparent's generation found it comforting to be Catholic and Democrat. The two seemed like the right balance for (I hate the phrase, but it is what we all call it) Social Justice. After all President Roosevelt had just "saved" the country from the Great Depression while looking out for the little guy, right. Wrong actually, but it no doubt felt good to think it at the time.<br />
<br />
Then we had JFK and my mom's generation had a reason to be happy being Catholic and Democrat. After all he was the hip, suave, young president whose untimely death was used by LBJ to pass another massive round of social reform.<br />
<br />
But then it all started to change, the Supreme Court went wonky in 1973, granting women the right to slaughter a generation of Americans as they saw fit. Democrats started frothing at the mouth to protect those "rights" and the poor and the downtrodden became just another voting bloc to be coddled in an election year, and "women's health" suddenly became the be-all end-all issue.<br />
<br />
And now we have a president who for some reason overwhelmingly won the Catholic vote four years ago and has done nothing but attack the Church ever since. Making it all the worse is that the head of HHS is a "Catholic." (My blog my rules, you openly thumb your nose at the Vatican you get the quotes). <br />
<br />
<br />
The bottom line is that Obama has essentially pushed the Church into a corner in an effort to make it look like the enemy. He and his administration have grossly abused the first clause of the first amendment. The goal is to find some sort of solution that seemingly allows both to save face, yet ultimately turn religious freedom into something the president can control.<br />
<br />
Sickening.<br />
<br />
Here's hoping the current iteration of the Supreme Court realizes ObamaCare is an illegal power grab by the administration and overturns it in toto. Then the ridiculous mandate will be a moot point.<br />
<br />
Further here's hoping Catholics and really everyone in the country stands up for our founding principles. Come on people, if we lose the first amendment we lose them all.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-38699535740467655352012-05-21T19:47:00.002-07:002012-05-21T19:47:42.476-07:00A Pilgrimage to St. Paul<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkS1R1X8VLE22PT14dNpBPLQFZfxzDnrqimJ3UCwxVwdtT6Jh6ac7zcZwMvWIph2D7e9UROQLMiRFmgqQ0357FLP-LGL4_Z1K2vdVnbLKnnQtCF2M-rD0NoLXoCUtWrFL5DBKvD-DD3s/s1600/Photo05201128.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtkS1R1X8VLE22PT14dNpBPLQFZfxzDnrqimJ3UCwxVwdtT6Jh6ac7zcZwMvWIph2D7e9UROQLMiRFmgqQ0357FLP-LGL4_Z1K2vdVnbLKnnQtCF2M-rD0NoLXoCUtWrFL5DBKvD-DD3s/s320/Photo05201128.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stone from St. Paul's tomb.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
So I read on these here <a href="http://wdtprs.com/blog/2012/05/a-great-coup-for-the-national-shrine-of-st-paul-in-st-paul-minnesota-wdtprs-kudos/" target="_blank">interwebs</a> that the <a href="http://www.cathedralsaintpaul.org/" target="_blank">Cathedral of St. Paul</a> was going to have a relic from the tomb of their patron saint on display Sunday. Needless to say I was somewhat intrigued. It's not everyday when you can see a piece of the tomb of the guy who penned nearly half of the New Testament. <br />
<br />
I had planned to load Tommy up and take him with me to attend the 10 a.m. Mass and then to have a chance to venerate the relic. My little slugger had a rough night Saturday, though and I didn't want to deal with a crabby kid in a new church plus trying to find my way up there and everything else. So I flew solo.<br />
<br />
First the Cathedral, wow, just wow. The most impressive building, not just church, I have ever seen, let alone been inside. Several small chapels off the main body of the building, including one with a massive replica of Michaelangelo's Pieta. <br />
<br />
I was glad I got to the church early so I could take a few minutes to look around. Seeing the Pieta really put me in the right frame of mind for Ascension Sunday. Seeing the Pieta at life size really helped to bring home what happened on that hill outside Jerusalem so many years ago.<br />
<br />
The Mass was very solemn, almost a High Mass, lots of Latin, incense, sung responses. Very nice. I was able to pay attention and tear myself away from trying to find a new statue or painting to admire so that was good.<br />
<br />
I definitely want to go back to the Cathedral when I have some time and take some photos and really look around.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I've never been in any of the great cathedrals in Europe but the one in St. Paul is absolutely amazing. I think it could stand on its own merits against many of those in Europe.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-8758863265574385212012-05-05T21:19:00.001-07:002012-05-05T21:23:50.501-07:00Theology in Winnie The Pooh?So Matty really loves to watch Pooh's Grand Adventure to wind down for bed. I noticed the other night that Rabbit sings a song that really sums up the Sola Scriptura position. His song stresses the importance of following exactly the map that Owl drew for the friends in their search for Christopher Robin who has gone to Skull (or School if any of the animals could actually read).<br />
<br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/H1Js0EGGbs0?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div>
<br />
<br />
Now Traci was less than pleased that I made this connection but it seemed like the argument I have heard so many times in debates with Sola Scripturists.<br />
<br />
Here is a sample of the lyrics from Rabbit's ode to the map. <br />
<br />
Never trust your ears<br />
Your nose, your eyes<br />
Putting faith in them<br />
Is most unwise<br />
Here's a phrase you all<br />
Must memorize<br />
In the printed word<br />
Is where truth lies<br />
<br />
Never trust that thing<br />
Between your ears<br />
Brains will get you nowhere fast<br />
My dears<br />
Haven't had a need<br />
For mine in years<br />
On the page is where<br />
The truth appears <br />
<br />
Most proponents of SS declare the printed word of the Bible as the only acceptable rule of faith. However Catholics say that the printed word is merely one leg of the stool on which rests the rules of faith. Catholics see the many references to a continuing authority (Matthew 23:1-4 and so many others), and to the difficulty of the Scriptures Acts 8:26-40, 2 Peter 3:16) as proof of the Magisterium. We also see the continuing beauty of 2,000 years of Tradition.<br />
<br />
Sola Scripturists insist in spite of mountains of Biblical evidence and history that Christ intended to teach their pet theory. Citing verses like Matt. 4:4 or 2 Tim 3:14-17 they find their theory defensible. <br />
<br />
In reality it breaks down with a mere objective look at it. Because after all if the Scriptures are so perspicuous why can't people within the Scriptures understand them clearly. After all isn't the Ethiopian eunuch merely Luther's plowboy in the first century. <br />
<br />
Now I don't intend to say that the Scriptures are completely out of the realm of understanding without the wisdom of Holy Mother Church and her office of interpreting and protecting them. It can however be difficult to discern their true meaning without the benefit of that wisdom.<br />
<br />
Almost immediately after the proposal of the idea of Sola Scriptura faithful Catholics began to attack and attempt to defeat the heresy. However it lives on today and its fruits are evident in the ever growing number of Protestant denominations. After all if the perspicuous Scriptures lead your church into an error well, just move on, find another church that accurately understands the Scriptures (at least as you understand them). Instead of showing the errors of the papacy, all the doctrine has done is create as many papacies as there are heads to paraphrase Luther himself.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-12953282812181913912012-04-25T21:21:00.001-07:002012-04-25T21:22:18.772-07:00WWE Unable to Tell Coherent Story....For a long time I have defended my continued viewership and fandom of the WWE as it being a man's soap opera, well the writing has begun to suffer of late. To borrow a line from the Sports Guy at ESPN, I feel like none of this would have happened if Vince McMahon were still alive.<br />
<br />
And yes I know Vinny Mac is still alive, but he may as well be dead. Last year when son-in-law Hunter Hearst Helmsley relieved him of his duties I was excited at the possibility of the story line. However they have continued to botch the angle.<br />
<br />
For one thing the mysterious, anonymous Raw GM angle just died. Then we were saddled with Johnny Ace, John Laurinaitis is quite possibly the least skilled man with a mic in his hands in the entire company. They tried to write in a power struggle angle between HHH and Laurinaitis but it fell flat, and was rushed.<br />
<br />
I will give them credit though for one thing building the Rock vs. John Cena match for a whole year, they somehow managed to mostly succeed there. However, even in success they still fell short. Watching the Pay Per View of Wrestlemania it lost all flow what with the nonsensical musical interlude, followed by the preening nonsense of the two men at the outset of the match.<br />
<br />
Yes I am complaining about a match that went for more than 30 minutes, saying it was too short and far too mechanical. That complaint falls on Rock and Cena more than creative.<br />
<br />
Another failure has been the tease, then backing away, then teasing of a heel turn for John Cena. It is time the goody two shoes act is tired. He needs a fresh start, a heel turn for the longest running baby face in the corporation is something that would show an ability to finish a story. And finishing a story would be a major improvement in creative direction for a federation that once more or less ridiculed its competition out of business for an inability to effectively finish a story. <br />
<br />
Now I know Vince is still the man in charge but we need to see him onscreen again. He needs to be once again the face of his operation. Not Mr. McMahon heel owner, but Vince McMahon, story teller.<br />
<br />
I've been watching the WWE for nearly 20 years now and can still remember the time when I was incredulous when my friend Andrew explained to me the thin, turtle-necked fellow in the WWF blazer calling the action on Raw was actually the guy signing the paychecks for everyone. <br />
<br />
That Vince is the one who we need to see again. For one thing the announcing is dreadful. Michael Cole, who should be selling the angles WWE creative comes up with spends far too much time trying to be a heel and get heat. Jerry Lawler has been phoning it in since sometime in the late 90's. <br />
<br />
Vince was always able as an announcer to let whoever the heel announcer was supposed to be get their heat and letting the good announcer build the major story, while selling the angles. No one calling the action can do that anymore in WWE. So even when creative has a solid story to tell it gets lost.<br />
<br />
The WWE merrily rolls along retreading their past as they look for some magic formula to return them to their heyday in the late 90's. The problems are<br />
<ul>
<li>they are now a monopoly having destroyed their competition</li>
<li>No one tries to sell the major story lines </li>
<li>They think bringing back some of their previous Superstars will bring back their fanbase...Witness the return of Brock Lesnar, The Rock, Kevin Nash.....etc.</li>
<li>Their alleged authority figure Laurinaitis has no demonstrable ability to wield authority, let alone use it effectively</li>
</ul>
They can right the ship but it will take some soul searching and a willingness to work on their deficiencies.Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6053321722064045465.post-75968795984019637762012-04-19T11:31:00.000-07:002012-04-19T11:31:05.099-07:00The Love of a WomanThirty years ago today, my world was significantly altered. I didn't and couldn't know it at the time. After all I was merely a year and a half old. But on this day 30 years ago my future wife came into the world. I look at the time we have known each other and the way we met and cannot help but see the hand of the Lord in it all.<br />
<br />
We met when I was just out of High School. I was an online chat addict for all intents and purposes. I guess being unable to talk to a girl when she was in front of me in real life was just too hard. Talking to one through a computer was just so much easier. I started talking to her one night, she was friendly and easy to talk to, so we continued to seek each other out online and chat. <br />
<br />
We talked about anything and everything, our chats extending into the wee hours of the morning quite frequently. I was hooked, when she didn't sign on on a given night I would get so bummed out. If she went out with friends I would get jealous. I was probably a tad irrational, but I loved talking to her and so missing out on that chance always made me a little lonely and sad.<br />
<br />
I will always remember how I felt as my dad and I drove to the airport to pick her and her best friend up, when she came down to meet me for the first time. I was so nervous the whole ride there I wanted to puke. But once we got there I ran up to the gate (this was pre 9/11) and their plane had already unloaded. I quickly ran back down and caught my dad, told him they had gotten off the plane already. I turned and looked toward the baggage claim area and I saw the two of them sitting there. My heart must have missed about three beats. I got a little lightheaded, but I went over and said hello.<br />
<br />
I knew then I was done. From then until forever I wanted to be with her. Well it took us a few stops and starts because one of us was in desperate need of some maturity. But fortunately she has stuck with me through some ups and downs. <br />
<br />
It's hard to believe we have two wonderful kids and are where we are. We have a long way to go yet, but I keep telling her God must have something awesome in store for us and we just have to pay our dues.<br />
<br />
I can't wait to see how her next 30 years turn out.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFJZruls8C2ybzbe9HbV1Lgvj1wWACG2tKt-e0gQ18X1X4Ypd3y1yJeBaDvU_dRM4JtMadVVPmkTcq1ocCpQamVtNxXlJU11C4X8nrq-B6HnfF5YmGxVENvHDNRP2h5-mPtdHXrVpgBA/s1600/136973-R1-00-00A.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="216" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFFJZruls8C2ybzbe9HbV1Lgvj1wWACG2tKt-e0gQ18X1X4Ypd3y1yJeBaDvU_dRM4JtMadVVPmkTcq1ocCpQamVtNxXlJU11C4X8nrq-B6HnfF5YmGxVENvHDNRP2h5-mPtdHXrVpgBA/s320/136973-R1-00-00A.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Michaelhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02010718258539748519noreply@blogger.com1