Ring Out the Old

Ring in the New!

Just a few thoughts (ah, Pascal! See what thou hast wrought!) before I attack this particular corner of the room and return it to its original cleanlieriness.

Despite my protests, I was made to take communion to Patty and my mother, who were both sick. I say protests because I am not a Eucharistic minister - mostly because I've always felt that I ought not be. But, since Mom and Patty were obviously unable to go themselves, and since Dad was at work, I took the pyx, received at communion and then held out the pyx, put up two fingers, received two hosts into the pyx, and then returned to my seat. I have no idea what the protocol is with the pyx - could I have simply put Him to the side? I felt so utterly wretched (and yet, consoled), so aware that "Oh, Lord, I am not worthy" and yet equally aware that "only say the Word and I shall be healed," that in not knowing what to do, I simply held Him in the pyx for the remainder of the Mass.

What an awesome way to begin the New Year. I was so humbled to think that my hands (thankfully clean - although I did entertain thoughts of running to the sacristy and cleaning them over and over again as though that would erase any venial sins itself) became a little throne for my God. What amazement to think that I held the Christ-child so near to His birth - on the very day of His circumcision! It was such a sweet thing to be given Him without my need to consume Him - to have a little tabernacle in my lap. I was reminded of my dream-home: to have an orphanage with a chapel within it, with 24-hour adoration within my own home.

Curiously, tomorrow - Epiphany! - I shall have to do the same, because Mom and Patty are still not well (duh). I am rethinking whether I am meant to be an extraordinary minister of the Eucharist or not. I shall have to speak with Fr. Mike or Fr. Jonathan about it. But I was struck with a similar "Bellwether" moment as I drove to Patty's and I should not be surprised to find that all my protests were for naught.

Last night (long after I blogged), inbetween watching Willy Wonka and It's a Wonderful Life with the family (I skipped out on Young Frankenstein later on to finish watching the LOTR:ROTK appendices), I slipped downstairs to my bed and grabbed up the Shadow, the teddy that my Bearskin cast gave me and which has remained one of my delights. I grabbed up the Shadow and knelt beside my bed and rested my head on the Shadow and just started praying and praying. I prayed so much last night - during the movies - constantly, it felt like - for my special intentions. They kept weighing on my mind so that I felt I could not stop praying lest - I have no idea. How can the infantry know the shape of the actual battle? But I was concerned to the heart of me and so kept praying. "Lord, bless...Lord, bless...Lord, bless...." Down on my knees, gripping this silly bear. I ran out of things to say, and so I went into tongues - it sounded Portugesish - and then into singing in tongues - and at the end, I distinctly understood: "Gendarme, courage, gendarme." My heart was stilled and I was able to spend the rest of the evening only holding the prayer in my heart without the unknowing anxiety of that prayer. So, once again, Lord, bless...amen.

Had a visit with MJ today, which was very nice, and then dragged Jules out to scope out the arcade at the mall for a future thingummy and then to Best Buy to get some free advice on my lastest computer snafu (the NEW external harddrive is being an idiot - aaaaaaaaaaaaugh!), and then to Lazer Zone to look at that arcade but it's closed on Mondays so that's no good, and then back home where I took a nap and then played two games of the new LOTR:ROTK (are we sensing a pattern here, folks?) with Peter, where he won both times - but I got to play Faramir so nyah. I took out the Disney Songbook and played some silly songs from that (cathartic note: when in sadness or any form of mehness play "A Pirate's Life For Me"!), turned over the laundry, finished Creed or Chaos by Dorothy Sayers and delved back into The Abolition of Man by Lewis.

I am in such a mood for theology! Fwah! Curious thought: theological privateers - swashbuckling our way against the piratical neo-philosophers and their existential nonsense! Fwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!

It seems so extraordinary to return to school on Monday. It seems so...unlikely. For some strange reason, this break has felt not like a mere two weeks but like a lifetime. Am I a teacher? Has this been my life for several years now? Is this my work? Long talks with Julie come to mind and we are slipping into that second journal once again. It'll all flow back into its rightful place come homeroom, and settle into its usual formality come first period. But oh - for a time - I believed.

Today was utterly glorious outside. I nearly believed it was Spring. (I know the seasons oughtn't be capitalized - but that's one bit of grammar that is utterly wrong. Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter - these are all proper nouns, these are great titans that deserve their proud uppercases!) Once again, I wanted to be questing. Where was my cape? My boots? My satchel and my fellowship? Of course, I know that five minutes in I'd be complaining - but the romance of a quest is still within my blood. It is Spring and there are glories to be won! Oh, I need to get myself back into a Twelve Kingdoms mode - I am not there yet. And we tangent...

...and tangent...

...and tangent.

And my corner is still undone and I shall be undone and there we are.

Mood: Unpinnable
Music: "Bring Him Home" from Les Mis...huh. But very soon it will be the cast commentary from...shall we guess which movie?...whilst I clean said corner.
Thought: Ah! For a hobbit-hole!