to this . . .
to this.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
To Save A Thousand Souls
The point I wanted to make in telling the women this story was this: when it comes to the priesthood, if not our sons, then whose? If we aren't willing for our sons to discern their vocation, how can we discern our own?
Which is why I am mentioning the book, To Save A Thousand Souls by Fr. Brett A. Brannen, Vice-Rector of Mount St. Mary's in Emmitsburg, Maryland. It's a wonderful book for men discerning a vocation to the priesthood, and it provides a comprehensive guide on the entire process from recognizing the signs of a vocation to the final chapter about ordination day.
Amazingly, though, the book is for all of us. As I read it, I recalled the words of John Paul II who said we are all called to serve God in different ways, whether its through the vocation of marriage, or as a dedicated single person, or through a religious life. What is important is that all these are vocations, each one serving God in its own, unique way.
To Save A Thousand Souls guides men through the discernment process, but the lessons and insights can be for anyone. It's a book about answering the call to vocation . . . and how holiness is the first and foremost vocation for each and every one of us.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
The Reason I Majored in English
When my son comes home from school needing help with this . . .
A cylinder with height 2x is inscribed in a sphere with radius 10.
a) Show that the volume of the cylinder, V, is 2πx(100 – x2).
b) By using calculus, one can show that V is maximum when x = 10√3 divided by 3. Substitute this value for x to find the maximum volume V. max. V = 4000π√3 divided by 9.
c) Use a calculator or computer to evaluate V= 2πx(100-x2) for various values of x between 0 and 10. Show that the maximum volume V occurs when x ≈ 5.77.
…boy am I glad I married my husband.
And what’s really sad is that I couldn’t even type the problem and had to get my son to do it for me…I mean, when was the last time you typed a square root, an exponent, or the symbol for pi? Hmmm?
A cylinder with height 2x is inscribed in a sphere with radius 10.
a) Show that the volume of the cylinder, V, is 2πx(100 – x2).
b) By using calculus, one can show that V is maximum when x = 10√3 divided by 3. Substitute this value for x to find the maximum volume V. max. V = 4000π√3 divided by 9.
c) Use a calculator or computer to evaluate V= 2πx(100-x2) for various values of x between 0 and 10. Show that the maximum volume V occurs when x ≈ 5.77.
…boy am I glad I married my husband.
And what’s really sad is that I couldn’t even type the problem and had to get my son to do it for me…I mean, when was the last time you typed a square root, an exponent, or the symbol for pi? Hmmm?
Monday, March 1, 2010
Whoa. Just call me Rocky.
About two hours after our return from Vegas, our five-year-old was so excited to see us he was jumping on the couch. Up and down. Up and down. He lost his balance . . . CRACK! . . . and his cute, but very hard head, slams into my eye. I now have a bona fide black eye.
I am sporting a Rocky Balboa shiner with a rainbow of purple, blue and yellow completely encircling my eye.
And the timing stinks. Of course, I haven't seen anyone since before leaving for Vegas, and so now when I explain how I got my shiner, I invariably get that all-knowing look and a "hmmm-hmmm."
Like, what do they think? I had too much of a good thing in Vegas and tripped on a curb right there on the strip? Sheesh.
I am sporting a Rocky Balboa shiner with a rainbow of purple, blue and yellow completely encircling my eye.
And the timing stinks. Of course, I haven't seen anyone since before leaving for Vegas, and so now when I explain how I got my shiner, I invariably get that all-knowing look and a "hmmm-hmmm."
Like, what do they think? I had too much of a good thing in Vegas and tripped on a curb right there on the strip? Sheesh.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
My Thoughts on Flying
I am not a fan of flying, so when my husband thought it would be a great idea for me to accompany him on his business trip to Las Vegas, I was tempted to make excuses. But over the years I have learned to deal with this fear...sorta.
To begin with, I simply pretend I am fearless. As I walk through the airport in my trusty danskos, wearing my dark jeans (not these jeans since I do need to sit) and pulling my cute, red laptop tote on wheels, I almost convince myself that I am not anxious.
Which actually works, right up until the moment they announce our flight.
Once we are in the air, to stop myself from analyzing engine noises (like I am such an expert on what an engine should sound like), I stuff ear phones into my ears and listen to the airline music playlist.
This time I find some Broadway tunes...okay, then. I decide on Wicked, and select one of my favorite songs from that musical: Defying Gravity. Thirty seconds later I am mentally yelling at myself: What the heck? Defying Gravity? That's the song you want to listen to while flying in a tin can???
I move on to reading, but the novel I brought requires more concentration than I can summon and, besides, it's hard to read and analyze engine noises at the same time. When I reach into the seat pocket in front of me searching for lighter reading material, I accidentally pull out the laminated pamphlet diagramming emergency exits. I stuff everything back into the pocket.
The television monitor does help a little, and I measure time by watching Friends...one episode, and I mentally mark off thirty minutes. Two episodes...an entire hour has gone by!
Things are going just fine until two things happen: the seat belt sign comes on, and the pilot announces that we are going through some rough air (i.e. turbulence).
Now I don't -- can't -- listen to music, read, or watch television because I am too busy praying. I scrutinize the airline attendant's face to see if she looks worried...but she seem pretty calm, so I figure things are okay. I remember to breathe.
Eventually the four hours pass, and when we land I feel exalted. I go on to have three wonderful days with my husband...three days of dining in fine restaurants, walking in the evenings, talking about anything and everything, listening to Singin' in the Rain playing at the Bellagio fountains, seeing Jersey Boys, and eating pistachio and hazelnut gelato at the Venetian.
No, I may not like to fly, but I will do it. You see, when I weigh wonderful life moments against fear, I'll take the wonderful life moments every single time.
To begin with, I simply pretend I am fearless. As I walk through the airport in my trusty danskos, wearing my dark jeans (not these jeans since I do need to sit) and pulling my cute, red laptop tote on wheels, I almost convince myself that I am not anxious.
Which actually works, right up until the moment they announce our flight.
Once we are in the air, to stop myself from analyzing engine noises (like I am such an expert on what an engine should sound like), I stuff ear phones into my ears and listen to the airline music playlist.
This time I find some Broadway tunes...okay, then. I decide on Wicked, and select one of my favorite songs from that musical: Defying Gravity. Thirty seconds later I am mentally yelling at myself: What the heck? Defying Gravity? That's the song you want to listen to while flying in a tin can???
I move on to reading, but the novel I brought requires more concentration than I can summon and, besides, it's hard to read and analyze engine noises at the same time. When I reach into the seat pocket in front of me searching for lighter reading material, I accidentally pull out the laminated pamphlet diagramming emergency exits. I stuff everything back into the pocket.
The television monitor does help a little, and I measure time by watching Friends...one episode, and I mentally mark off thirty minutes. Two episodes...an entire hour has gone by!
Things are going just fine until two things happen: the seat belt sign comes on, and the pilot announces that we are going through some rough air (i.e. turbulence).
Now I don't -- can't -- listen to music, read, or watch television because I am too busy praying. I scrutinize the airline attendant's face to see if she looks worried...but she seem pretty calm, so I figure things are okay. I remember to breathe.
Eventually the four hours pass, and when we land I feel exalted. I go on to have three wonderful days with my husband...three days of dining in fine restaurants, walking in the evenings, talking about anything and everything, listening to Singin' in the Rain playing at the Bellagio fountains, seeing Jersey Boys, and eating pistachio and hazelnut gelato at the Venetian.
No, I may not like to fly, but I will do it. You see, when I weigh wonderful life moments against fear, I'll take the wonderful life moments every single time.
The Bellagio Fountains
The Venetian
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
These Forty Days of Lent (previous post)
Previously posted 2/6/08
Growing up, I tended to dread Lent because it usually meant 40 days of no sweets, or dessert, or television. I was expected to pray more, be nicer to my siblings, or stop being such a procrastinator. It was never fun, and I counted down the days until Easter Sunday.
Only in the last few years have I really begun to understand what this liturgical season offers. Just like I appreciate January 1st and the promise of a New Year, I like how Lent offers me the gift of spiritual renewal. I realize that we should strive for spiritual growth on a daily basis, but on a basic human level I need the emphasis and reminder that Lent provides.
During Lent I am more aware of trying to pray more, or attending daily mass, or spending some time in the adoration chapel. And yes, observing Lent also means offering up little sacrifices.
Why sacrifice? In today's world of instant gratification, giving up a luxury or a meal is a reminder of our many blessings. When we fast--from food or a certain behavior--the deprivation keeps us grounded and helps us not become too attached to worldly things. It also serves to reminds us that what we do without for just these forty days is, in fact, a way of life for many.
Offering up a sacrifice is also an excellent means of learning self-discipline...especially for children. It's good to learn that we can't have everything we want anytime we want. And by learning to say "no" to the little things, maybe it will help with bigger temptations.
During Advent we witnessed the joy of Christ's birth, but during the Lenten Season we are called to actively participate in Christ's life.
"If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). With those words we are called to walk in His ways, and our little sacrifices enable us to participate (in a very teeny, tiny way) in Christ's suffering as he headed to that cross on Calvary.
Easy? Not for me. But Christ's ultimate sacrifice led to His glorious resurrection, and I know that by participating in these 40 days of Lent I can better appreciate the fullness of the celebration on Easter morning.
Growing up, I tended to dread Lent because it usually meant 40 days of no sweets, or dessert, or television. I was expected to pray more, be nicer to my siblings, or stop being such a procrastinator. It was never fun, and I counted down the days until Easter Sunday.
Only in the last few years have I really begun to understand what this liturgical season offers. Just like I appreciate January 1st and the promise of a New Year, I like how Lent offers me the gift of spiritual renewal. I realize that we should strive for spiritual growth on a daily basis, but on a basic human level I need the emphasis and reminder that Lent provides.
During Lent I am more aware of trying to pray more, or attending daily mass, or spending some time in the adoration chapel. And yes, observing Lent also means offering up little sacrifices.
Why sacrifice? In today's world of instant gratification, giving up a luxury or a meal is a reminder of our many blessings. When we fast--from food or a certain behavior--the deprivation keeps us grounded and helps us not become too attached to worldly things. It also serves to reminds us that what we do without for just these forty days is, in fact, a way of life for many.
Offering up a sacrifice is also an excellent means of learning self-discipline...especially for children. It's good to learn that we can't have everything we want anytime we want. And by learning to say "no" to the little things, maybe it will help with bigger temptations.
During Advent we witnessed the joy of Christ's birth, but during the Lenten Season we are called to actively participate in Christ's life.
"If anyone wishes to come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me" (Luke 9:23). With those words we are called to walk in His ways, and our little sacrifices enable us to participate (in a very teeny, tiny way) in Christ's suffering as he headed to that cross on Calvary.
Easy? Not for me. But Christ's ultimate sacrifice led to His glorious resurrection, and I know that by participating in these 40 days of Lent I can better appreciate the fullness of the celebration on Easter morning.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Giddy over SNOW!
Yes, Virginia, it does (occasionally) snow in Georgia!
Living in the south . . . and we actually owned some
snow pants!
Snowball fights + wrestling in the snow =
fun, fun, fun!
He may be small . . . but he was mighty and held his own!
And the great thing about living in the south? The snow comes, we enjoy it, and in 36 hours it's gone.
Really, I had forgotten how much work a snowfall can generate: getting dressed to go outside; losing and searching . . . and losing and searching . . . for five pairs of mittens; getting wet, coming in to dry off and take a hot shower, then going back out later to begin the cycle again; dripping puddles and puddles of water on the laundry room floor; and feeding hearty appetites resulting from all that outdoor air and exercise.
Sigh. It was so much fun. And I can launch a snowball with the best of them!
Living in the south . . . and we actually owned some
snow pants!
Snowball fights + wrestling in the snow =
fun, fun, fun!
He may be small . . . but he was mighty and held his own!
Meet Mr. Snowman (not an original name, but the
little guy insisted!)
And the great thing about living in the south? The snow comes, we enjoy it, and in 36 hours it's gone.
Really, I had forgotten how much work a snowfall can generate: getting dressed to go outside; losing and searching . . . and losing and searching . . . for five pairs of mittens; getting wet, coming in to dry off and take a hot shower, then going back out later to begin the cycle again; dripping puddles and puddles of water on the laundry room floor; and feeding hearty appetites resulting from all that outdoor air and exercise.
Sigh. It was so much fun. And I can launch a snowball with the best of them!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)