Greetings!
While I did not get the chance to do any baking during this weekend's last stretch of semi-cool temperatures, I did manage to have an interesting Memorial Day.
I hadn't planned on doing anything special except domestic duties and cleaning off the bbq grill, but then my husband had the inspired notion that we should go to Mass that morning. Not because it was Memorial Day and we should engage in idolatry of the military, which is what this day is REALLY about, but because the soup kitchen where my husband did his community service has a Mass that takes place every Monday at 10AM. My husband had been to the soup kitchen Mass a few times, but I'd never witnessed it. Even though it was too early for my liking, I decided it was worth it.
We arrived at the soup kitchen and took our seats on the back porch patio a few minutes before the Mass began. The soup kitchen was once a single-family home and had been converted for the purpose of doling out food to the homeless and impoverished, but some reminders of its previous incarnation remained. A few of the staff and regulars recognized my husband from his visits there, some of whom I'd only met for the first time that day. The priest himself was an old left-wing Redemptorist from Boston who now ran a retreat center out in the boonies. Since the soup kitchen is affiliated with the Catholic Worker movement and is run by a pious Catholic who found his way to the Church through the unlikely path of Karl Marx, I expected there to be no patriotard/Murica troop worshiping on this property.
The Mass itself was pretty uneventful, but even though I didn't feel threatened or harassed, my demon meter went off the second we parked the car and stayed on the entire time we were there. Basically, I felt like there were dark entities lurking around the periphery which made me feel uneasy, and some outbursts from the homeless men hanging around watching the Mass lent credence to that hypothesis. Now, I am well aware that within the homeless community, the rates of mental illness are through the roof largely because our mental health care system in this country is atrocious and its really easy to fall through the cracks; but, that being said, my knowledge of demonology tells me that people who are mentally unstable are more vulnerable to demonic influence because their condition provides a hook that demons can use to manipulate the individual to suit its needs. That being said, however, not every mentally ill homeless person is under demonic influence; only some are.
After Mass, we got a food box and went home. The Lord heard my recent craving for bagels and home baked bread, and boy did we get some! We were also blessed with some gourmet potato salad, green beans with mushrooms, fruit salad, and a blueberry pudding cake. Most of it was day-old stuff from local grocery stores, but they were still edible. A number of people complemented how nice our cholomobile looked too. Arizona lends itself to being an ideal place for older vehicles because the dry climate preserves them well.
And that was how I spent my Memorial Day.
Thank you for reading this post and please don't forget to share, comment, and subscribe!
While I did not get the chance to do any baking during this weekend's last stretch of semi-cool temperatures, I did manage to have an interesting Memorial Day.
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| 'Murica. (This was once a profile picture for some Tea Party guy I followed on Myspace back in the day. I only just now discovered I had saved it) |
I hadn't planned on doing anything special except domestic duties and cleaning off the bbq grill, but then my husband had the inspired notion that we should go to Mass that morning. Not because it was Memorial Day and we should engage in idolatry of the military, which is what this day is REALLY about, but because the soup kitchen where my husband did his community service has a Mass that takes place every Monday at 10AM. My husband had been to the soup kitchen Mass a few times, but I'd never witnessed it. Even though it was too early for my liking, I decided it was worth it.
We arrived at the soup kitchen and took our seats on the back porch patio a few minutes before the Mass began. The soup kitchen was once a single-family home and had been converted for the purpose of doling out food to the homeless and impoverished, but some reminders of its previous incarnation remained. A few of the staff and regulars recognized my husband from his visits there, some of whom I'd only met for the first time that day. The priest himself was an old left-wing Redemptorist from Boston who now ran a retreat center out in the boonies. Since the soup kitchen is affiliated with the Catholic Worker movement and is run by a pious Catholic who found his way to the Church through the unlikely path of Karl Marx, I expected there to be no patriotard/Murica troop worshiping on this property.
 |
| Vintage communist poster |
The Mass itself was pretty uneventful, but even though I didn't feel threatened or harassed, my demon meter went off the second we parked the car and stayed on the entire time we were there. Basically, I felt like there were dark entities lurking around the periphery which made me feel uneasy, and some outbursts from the homeless men hanging around watching the Mass lent credence to that hypothesis. Now, I am well aware that within the homeless community, the rates of mental illness are through the roof largely because our mental health care system in this country is atrocious and its really easy to fall through the cracks; but, that being said, my knowledge of demonology tells me that people who are mentally unstable are more vulnerable to demonic influence because their condition provides a hook that demons can use to manipulate the individual to suit its needs. That being said, however, not every mentally ill homeless person is under demonic influence; only some are.
After Mass, we got a food box and went home. The Lord heard my recent craving for bagels and home baked bread, and boy did we get some! We were also blessed with some gourmet potato salad, green beans with mushrooms, fruit salad, and a blueberry pudding cake. Most of it was day-old stuff from local grocery stores, but they were still edible. A number of people complemented how nice our cholomobile looked too. Arizona lends itself to being an ideal place for older vehicles because the dry climate preserves them well.
And that was how I spent my Memorial Day.
Thank you for reading this post and please don't forget to share, comment, and subscribe!
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