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Monday, May 2, 2016

May Day

Happy Sunday, dear readers!

On this first of May, be thankful for the workers who are the real driving force behind the economy, not trickle-down-piss Reaganomics with its fetishization of the rich.

Workers of the world unite! Pic found here


But, in spite of my socialist leanings, hubby and I celebrated May Day by going to Sunday Mass at the church we were married in. After last week's trip to the Carmelite church ended with my husband coming to within an inch of knifing a rude parishioner who cut in front of us with his children in the Communion line, it was time to reevaluate where we went to Mass. As much as I love our Carmelite church, the fact is that people there do not behave reverently while in the presence of the Lord! They talk, they clap for the mariachi, they come and go whenever they please and have no respect for order. It's largely out of ignorance that they behave this way, and I have my disagreements with the homeboy padre who is the administrator there about how to go about correcting this huge problem. Our homeboy padre is a saint compared with alot of the other American priests I've met, but he's not terribly bright. I don't want to stop going there because I do feel that the Lord wants hubby and I to be there so that we can provide a good example to others on how one should behave in God's house, but it's so frustrating! It's easy to fall into despair when seeing how bad the modern church has become.
I've had a long history with the Carmelite church because I was going there for Sunday Mass long before I became a Catholic and it was there that the seeds of Catholicism were firmly planted in my heart. I do not want to abandon it because despite the bad behavior of the parishioners, they uphold traditional Mexican Catholic practices and don't deviate from orthodox Catholic dogma. That counts for something, right?

It's hard being a priest. You've got to evangelize, educate, and counsel people when they're spiritually vulnerable. It's a job made all the more difficult when your parish is ignorant of God.


Fortunately, the Lord rewarded our decision to go to our wedding church when a dear family friend came. He brought with him his good friend whom we helped move into her apartment a few months ago. The woman was delighted to see how much the baby had grown, and since it was before Mass, she got to sweet talk the baby in French for a bit (she was born and raised on the Caribbean island of Martinique, where the dominant language is French). We were worried about our friend for a while because he'd gotten himself caught up with a heretical outfit that under the guise of being pro-life, was pushing overpriced rosaries of poor quality and some condemned "visions" of the Virgin Mary to boot, but with this appearance, it helped put hubby and I at ease. After Mass, the woman told me that she had recently been attending our wedding church for the last few weeks because she wanted to come back to the Church. I knew she'd been away from the Catholic Church for a long time, but now that she is elderly she wants to have her spiritual affairs in order. She let me know that she'd recently contacted a priest at the church to arrange for a Confession, but had yet to hear back to set a date and time. This being the Year of Mercy, now's as good a time as any to recommit to living a lifestyle in accordance with the teachings of the Church and partaking of the Sacraments as often as possible.

Take that, Pebbles Flintstone!


And, most importantly, the baby got to radiate lots of cuteness beams! Her hair is finally long enough on top for me to make a ponytail of it, though the back of her head still has a ways to go before I can make a tail out of it. And to think, when she was here, my mother wanted to give the baby a haircut!

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