Sunday Glamour

Happy Sunday, dear readers!

Today was our week to go to the other church. We couldn't stay long afterward to mingle like we normally do because my hubby forgot his wallet and we had to get home ASAP.

As is my custom when I do makeup, I try and match the priest's vestments when the occasion calls for it. This being the season of Lent, I decided matching the priest's vestments was the thing to do. It's my little way of expressing devotion since I don't have the mental discipline to do much in the way of prayer (that remains a work in progress...). I had an idea for what I wanted to do for my Lent look, and the images below are what I came up with.

My Lent look, with purple and gold to match the priest's vestments. I don't like the way the lipstick came out in part because it was melted and soft, but I'm starting to figure out how this  contouring thing works #makeup #beauty #eyeshadow #beautyfornoobs #Catholic #religion #mylittleway

A photo posted by Tamara Tamtam Morris (@tr0u8ad0ur_520) on Feb 21, 2016 at 1:54pm PST

Just closed my eyes so you can see my eyeshadow design better

Looking over the results, there are some definite changes I'd make for the next time I do this look. I'm definitely using my darker lipstick/lip liner combo. The pink glittery Sephora lipstick I used in this look was one I had for a while but never opened. When I did, I saw the heat had melted and deformed the wedge so the lipstick was softer than I anticipated. I also should probably narrow the gold spot on my lid and maybe add some darker colors to the outer corner of my eyes. I don't think I have good definition in my eyes with this look. I had the right idea with mixing the gold and purple, but it didn't come out exactly the way I wanted it to. Fortunately, I have the next few weeks of Lent to refine and improve on this look so that it's at least closer to what I have in mind.

It should also be noted that this "snowglobe" look is one I very seldom wear. I'm more of a classic dark outer corner and crease with a highlight inner corner of the eye, largely because my eyes are set kind of close together and the lack of highlight makes them look small.

One thing I am proud of is my contouring. Since I don't have a formal contouring set, I used my bronzer and blush to give my face some definition. I didn't have the time to try contouring my nose because we were running late for church, but next time I do full-face makeup I will attempt the nose contour. I have a wide Slavic nose, so contouring would help slim it down some.

And that was how I spent my Sunday morning.

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The One Mistake I'm Glad I Made

Hello dear readers! Sorry I'm a bit late with posting this entry. I normally write ahead of time and schedule when the post goes live, but yesterday, which would have been Day 5 of the challenge, I was not feeling well and couldn't finish writing. Thus, I'm a day behind, but not out of the running!

Day 5 of the 21 day blogging challenge was also a bit of a tough topic, mainly because I couldn't think of anything right off! After some introspection, I can point to one huge mistake I made which turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It's longer than what I usually write about, but it's an intensely personal incident that has ramifications that are continually felt up to this present day.

This epic error happened in 2012 when I returned to Illinois from Arizona. Actually, I was forceably removed from Arizona against my wishes because my family freaked out at the possibility that by me staying in Arizona, the money they spent on educating me in college would go to waste if I did not find a job that they approved of which utilized my degree. I, on the other hand, had built up a network of friends and a community for myself in the four years I spent living here in Arizona and I did not want to leave it behind. I was grateful for the material support my parents provided to me during my college years, but now it was time for me to start living my own life and doing my own thing. I knew that the days of finding decently paid work were long gone, so I didn't mind taking shitty, low paying jobs because it was something I could use to establish residency and build a resume. Yes, southern Arizona is economically depressed compared with places like Phoenix or Chicago, IL, but I came to enjoy living in this part of the state because the weather was good, the cost of living was low, and I valued the sense of community I felt. If I left Arizona, it would be on my terms and no one else's. This conflict, my independence vs. my family's plans for my future, would be the spark which set off an explosive family feud.

When my dad broke the news to me that he and my mom were coming to Arizona with a return ticket for me, I threw at him every justification I knew to try and convince both of them to call it off. Instead of acknowledging my independence as an adult, the call devolved into a screaming match and at that point, I felt like my life was over. I had always been an obedient child, always doing what my parents told me to do whether I agreed with their orders or not, but now that I wanted to exercise my independence and make my own way in life, I was met with tremendous resistance which I felt was completely unjustified given my age (I was 22 at the time). I didn't know how to respond to this, so I G-chatted my then-boyfriend now husband for help. He agreed that what was happening to me was unjustified, and advised me to hide out until they left. I was shocked by this suggestion, since the idea of running away was unthinkable. I considered running away cowardly and was looking more for debate pointers, but he advised me not to go that route cuz my parents would emotionally manipulate me into compliance again and that ghosting them was the best way to make them see the light.

My bedroom in the seedy weekly motel

As departure day got closer, I gathered my things together and my boyfriend helped find me a seedy weekly motel to camp out in and I remained there when my family came down to get me. I left behind my cell phone, my credit cards, and anything else that could be used to trace me. Unfortunately, the emotional toll was too much for me to bear and I eventually cracked. I let my guilt take over and let my location be known to my parents after the emotional blackmail and guilt layered emails finally got to me. They got me and whisked me off first to Phoenix, and then back to Illinois.

Despite the promises of open communication and greater freedom, I began to wonder if I had made a mistake by going with my parents as my guilt began to wear off and doubts began to arise. I wanted very much to believe my family had my best interests at heart. After all, they bore me, raised me, educated me, it was only right that they wanted me to be better off than they were. My boyfriend warned me that I was making a mistake, as decades earlier he too caved to family pressure and returned to Texas from a brief stay in Arizona. In Texas, he endured years of misery and chaos before fleeing back to Arizona in 1988 to begin a fresh start. He wanted to use his experience to try and save me from the same fate that befell him.

Downtown Chicago, as seen from the Dan Ryan Expressway, on the way back from ICK Chicago

In the meantime, I was put to work in my dad's dental office doing clerical duty. I honestly didn't mind helping out in the family business; it was easy money and I could chill on Facebook in between patients and phone calls. However, the pressure was on for me to find work that actually utilized my degree. It began to wear on my nerves, in addition to the religious persecution I endured since I had made my Catholic intentions known to my Orthodox family. It also didn't help that everywhere I went, whether it was to church or the mall, I had to be accompanied by a family member as though I was still a kid. My complaints about the constant supervision fell on deaf ears, and arguments were becoming more frequent. I was not allowed to hang out with any of the friends I had in Illinois whom I'd known from high school because that was wasting time and I was supposed to be looking for work and getting started on a career. The unspoken truth behind my parents treatment of me was that they were scared I'd run off from them again, which is why they had to constantly keep me in sight. I felt like I was in prison.

One of the few means of relief from this torment was the internet. I could G-chat my boyfriend to let him know what was going on in Illinois, and Facebook so that I could keep up with friends. I was careful not to let too many people know what was going on at home because I wanted to preserve my family's reputation as upstanding members of the church community. Anyone who grew up in a tight-knit, close environment can relate to the isolation I felt during this time period. I could never be grateful enough for the fact that my parents are technophobes and don't understand computers.

Slights like this have a way of adding up (writing says "see you don't know the truth")

There were two breaking points that occurred which finally pushed me over the edge. The first came when I finally was hired by Vector Marketing, an MLM company pushing cutlery which I would later learn was a pyramid scam, and my family forced me to quit before I ever started working because they didn't want me going to people's houses to sell stuff. Though we were all unaware of what Vector Marketing really was, this was the second job they'd made me quit, as the first one was at a call center in Arizona. Then as now, I had just been hired and was about to begin work when they pulled the plug on me because they disapproved of the job choice. Since I was now 0-2 in the job department, my parents deemed me incapable of finding suitable work. I backhanded this insult by telling my parents to find me a job, knowing full well that the horrible job market would sooner or later prove my point about the situation. Sure enough, they never found me a job.

The second breaking point came days later during an argument with my mom in which she admitted that she regretted letting me go to college in Arizona because now she had lost control over me. It was as though I was still a 12 year old teenager and not a 22 year old adult! It was clear to me now that my family really did not have my best interests at heart. All their platitudes about "independence" were for naught. They simply wanted to use me as an extension of themselves; a cash cow to start paying back on all the money they'd spent investing in raising and educating me. No matter the cost, I was to be stuffed kicking and screaming back into the mold of being the obedient daughter who did whatever mommy and daddy told her to do. I now knew that an impoverished, struggling existence in Arizona was far more preferable to the gilded cage I had been stuffed into in Illinois. I acknowledged to my boyfriend that he was right about what would happen to me and asked him to help me escape from Illinois, which he happily agreed to do. When my parents were not in the house or within range of hearing, I began to pack up my most valued and essential items as well as gathering my important documents. Through G-chat, my boyfriend helped me arrange for housing. Some internet shopping revealed that Amtrak had the cheapest one-way tickets to Arizona. I would look for employment once I got settled. My boyfriend also proposed to me online, and we agreed to get married as soon as possible when I got back.

Me in my work uniform. Underneath my sweatshirt is a pair of scrubs appropriate for use in a dentist's office

The day before my escape, my feelings of guilt began to weigh on me again. Everything was in place for me to go, all I needed to do was leave. It also didn't help that I was dragged to a job fair at Navy Pier, which set my escape plans off for a few days. I was not impressed by the jobs offered there, but my dad noticed how I was dragging myself along. He asked me about it, and I told him it was because I didn't want to be there. It was not a total lie, I really didn't want to be at Navy Pier looking at jobs and being told to apply online. The real reason for my lack of energy and enthusiasm was because I was about to leave them again, and the guilt I was suffering from was because I knew my escape would tear the family apart. I tried telling myself that my family brought this calamity down on themselves for the way they treated me to mitigate the guilt, and it helped some, but for an always obedient child to strike back and say no is a huge and intimidating step. That night, I turned off the computer, packed it up and wiped my phone clean to hide the evidence of my communications. I also removed my credit cards, bank cards, anything that could be used to trace me. This was it. A month that started off so promising had rapidly devolved into a living hell. Communication had utterly failed and the feud was getting worse by the day. I had to get out or something bad was gonna happen either to me or I would do something bad to the family.

Early in the morning, before dawn even broke, I quickly and quietly got dressed and grabbed my backpack and computer bag. I made my way quietly down the hall and down the stairs, careful not to wake my light-sleeping mom. I finally exited out the garage and as I closed the door behind me, I kept repeating to myself "don't look back". I knew that if I looked back at the house I grew up in as I was leaving, I would fail in my resolve. As I walked down the driveway and out on the sidewalks to get to the downtown train station and to freedom, I forced myself to face forward and kept repeating to myself not to look back.

I did not look back.

Safe in the hostel

When I got to the train station, I purchased a one-way ticket to downtown Chicago. Once there, I would buy my ticket at Union Station for Arizona, and hopefully soon be on my way. I arrived, but the direct route train would not be leaving for another two days. Not wanting to make a two-day layover in Texas, I decided to holdout those two days in Chicago. By this time, Chicago's sky-high murder rate and gang violence were beginning to make national headlines, but I knew Chicago better than Texas. I bought a disposable basic cell phone at a Walmart not far from Union Station, and went to go hang out at the University of Illinois at Chicago campus not far away to use the internet. With some help from the computer nerds in charge of the computer lab, I finally got online and messaged my fiancee to let him know I was safely out of my family's home. He was relieved and conveyed to me that my parents had been bombarding his inbox with the news of what I'd done. Having dealt with insane parents many times before, it was not a big deal for him to play along. My inbox had a few emails from family, but I would not answer them until I got back to Arizona. I didn't want anyone tracing my movements while I was returning. Since I would not be departing for another two days, I sought out cheap accommodations at a nearby hostel. I spent that first night relaxing, and during the second day I walked around downtown Chicago. I took lots of pictures cuz I knew I would not be back for a long time and I wanted to say good bye to my home city.

Me at Buckingham Fountain

As I settled into my seat on the train the next day, I felt a bit of homesickness mixed with relief. I would miss Chicago, but I was now on my way to freedom; to be with people who actually cared about me and valued me for who I was. I took many pictures of the train ride and at each station we stopped at. The trip took two days before I was back in southern Arizona. At my pre-arranged safe house, I finally emailed my family back and told them I was in Arizona. I also told them to leave me alone or risk legal action.

Good bye Chicago. It'll be a while before I get to see you again. Taken from the train as it was leaving Union Station

With my fiancee's help, I began to settle and get established in Arizona again. Those first few months were hard as I was basically couch surfing and with sporadic employment, no money, and no familial support, I was really on my own. God and I had alot of conversations during that time period, but I knew that this hardscrabble life was far preferable to the middle-class family life I left behind. After my family began enlisting spies to keep tabs on me, my fiancee and I got married for legal reasons and my safety, though we had to do it in court thanks to the money-minded priest who refused to marry us. We then moved into a rotten trailer in a run-down trailer park and not long after that, I got hired at a call center where I would work for the next two years. Life settled down and was good.

As for my family, they continued to harass me and even showed up unannounced to look for me. To this day, they deny any wrongdoing but continue to harp on me finding a job that makes lots of money. We both continue to recover from the traumas inflicted on us, I by a lifetime of control and oppression, and them with the shattering of that parental bond. I really didn't want to do what I did, but I had no other choice. Though relations have improved somewhat, they are still not good and I do not want my children being in contact with my family any more than is necessary, lest they endure what I had to.

My ill-fated return to Illinois proved to be a blessing in disguise because it showed me that no matter what they say, not all families have their children's best interests at heart. They may think they do, but actions have a way of speaking louder than words. It was a hard lesson for me to learn, but there was no other way I could have seen it. The other lesson I learned from my mistake was when it came time for me to have children, I would always work hard to accept them for who they were and to respect the choices they make as adults. My job as a parent is to provide my children with the skills they need to function in society, not turn them into extensions of me. At some point, they will grow up and leave me to begin living their lives and making their way in the world. It will be hard, but I have to let them go eventually.

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The Anniversary

Happy Saturday everyone!

Today is my anniversary. On this day in 2013, my husband and I said our vows in front of God Almighty and legitimized our union in His eyes.

I wore a sari for my wedding dress. I bought it with the express purpose of wearing it to weddings, baptisms, First Communions, Confirmations and I do not regret it one bit

This was actually our church wedding. We had a civil wedding in 2012 for legal reasons, but agreed not to consummate the marriage until after our church ceremony. This is a bit unusual because in America, religious marriages are legally recognized and it's not necessary to have both civil and religious ceremonies for a wedding as is the norm in other countries. The only reason we did it this way was because my family was causing trouble for me as a result of a feud and we needed to get married fast for legal reasons. The priest at the Latin Mass church I met hubby at and who I wanted to marry us refused to do so for selfish reasons. He outright told my husband (then fiance) how he would not marry us because of the age difference and lack of income my husband brought in to support a family, and that he wouldn't risk losing donations from the moneyed senile delinquents who might disapprove of his decision to marry us. I will forever hold that against him because his refusal to marry us put hubby and I in an occasion for sin that was totally unnecessary, and could have been avoided with a quiet, low-key ceremony that no one of moneyed importance need know.

But, in a way, perhaps it was better that things worked out this way. Now that we were legally bound, hubby and I could sort of breathe and relax a bit. Our status as civilly married got us exiled from the Latin Mass church where all this drama went down, and so I got to know the diocese better from spending time at the different churches, and in due course, we found a priest who would marry us. This good priest was the one who was instrumental in helping my husband come back to the Catholic faith, and he was more than happy to marry us. We had a small wedding, inviting only a few close friends. Hubby's family could not attend for various reasons of health and income, and I refused to invite mine due to that ongoing feud. We didn't want anyone who might cause trouble showing up.

His grandmother's rosary. It's over 100 years old

Thanks be to God, I had probably the most stress-free wedding anyone could ever ask for. Since it was a small one, we held the party at the house in the trailer park we lived in. My hubby was the manager of the park, and got along well with the neighbors so they basically pitched in for our reception. We compiled a short playlist of music, though the house resident had her radio playing as well, and we just had a great time. If I should marry again after my hubby passes away, I'll keep this one in mind. Small and stress-free is the way to be!

We had two wedding cakes. This one was carrot cake 

And the other was German Chocolate. Both cakes said "Tamara *heart* Jerry"

In addition to being our anniversary date, it was also our day to go to Confession. We had another fortuitous encounter with Canon Bill and his assistant at the other church, waiting to get scrubbed by the good Carmelites. Our visit was even more blessed when a lady in the Confession line allowed us to go in front of her since the baby had begun to make noise. Upon completing our penance, we left to go home. My hubby took the encounter as a sign of approval from God, since earlier in the week, a woman gave him money in exchange for a blessed scapular. My husband gave the money to Canon Bill as a donation, since the Catholic Church deems exchanging money for sacred items a sin known as Simony.

And that was how I spent my Saturday

Rosary Rally

It's the weekend! Time for the fun to begin.

My family and I attended a Rosary Rally today at our Latin Mass church. I wasn't especially keen on going to this event due to the apostolate that sponsored it, America Needs Fatima. America Needs Fatima is a subsidiary of Tradition Family Property, a group I mentioned in a previous post about sleazy apostolates. My reasons for despising America Needs Fatima and, specifically, its root organization Tradition Family Property will be the subject of a future post. My husband convinced me to go since some of our church friends would be there and we could fellowship with them.

Like the Planned Parenthood rally I attended last month, it was dreadfully hot and sunny outside. The cool weather we had at the beginning of the week disappeared and it's back to summer again. The rally itself was pretty uneventful. We stood outside the gate of the church, recited the Rosary, and then left to go our separate ways. My husband and I did hang around to chat with our friends, just as he promised.

I got sunburned in addition to being roasted

After the rally, I'd planned to check out a new outlet mall in Marana which was the subject of a big hoopla the day it opened due to the jobs it would bring. However, my plan was thwarted after one of the tires on our car went flat. Thank goodness my husband bought a good spare tire some months back, but now we have to get another one. I refuse to leave the city limits, or ride on the highway without a spare tire in reserve cuz if another one of our tires goes flat, I don't want to be stranded somewhere. Fortunately, there are lots of tire shops on my side of town. It won't be a huge expense or hassle to get one.

And that was how I spent my Saturday. 

Fire at ICK Chicago

Heartbreaking. Pic found here

Yesterday, while cruising through my newsfeed on Facebook, a number of Catholic groups I follow posted some news stories about the Institute of Christ the King National Shrine in Chicago sustaining serious damage following a fire. I was quite sad to see this bit of news for a number of reasons.

My connection to the Institute of Christ the King (abbreviated as ICK) stems from its branch in Tucson, AZ where I attended my first Latin Mass (and, by proxy, met my husband), was catechized and formally received into the Catholic faith. I was quite fond of the founding canon (their term for priests), Richard von Menshengen, and have come to accept his successor, Canon William "Bill" Avis. Through Canon Richard, I met a number of the other ICK priests, including the order's founder, Monseigneur Gilles Wach. It was also from Canon Richard that I learned of the US headquarters of the order in Chicago, my home town.

Exterior of ICK Chicago, September 16, 2012

It was during a short, disastrous stint in Illinois during the end of summer 2012 that I was privileged to visit ICK Chicago, as I have taken to calling the order's US HQ, twice. Though I was attending there under less than optimal circumstances (the family feud which I would flee to Arizona to escape from by the end of September was almost at its breaking point by this time), I could see that the church was going to be beautiful once the renovations done up to that point were completed. I was also blessed that I got to see in person the famous Infant Jesus statue from Spain, which was made in the 18th century.

Interior of ICK Chicago, September 2, 2012. Their famous Infant Jesus statue is perched on top of the altar in the middle of this picture.

Due to my history with the order, I've been following the story of the ICK Chicago fire and from the news reports I've read, the official cause was listed as accidental when a pile of varnished rags "spontaneously" ignited (one report I read stated that the rags were put next to some plastic that began smoldering), destroying the roof and sanctuary. While I want to believe the Chicago Fire Dept's official judgement on the matter, I have a hard time believing that a pile of flammable rags would just ignite by themselves. And even if that one report was correct in that rags were placed next to some plastic that began smoldering, HOW DID THE PLASTIC START SMOLDERING?!

The rector of ICK Chicago and the ICK's provincial superior, Canon Matthew Talarico (who I've also been blessed to meet on a few occasions), holding the fire damaged Infant Jesus statue. His hand with the orb (see here for original) was gone, but the rest of the statue survived. Pic found here 

Until I read of concrete evidence pointing to this fire being accidental, I seriously think it was caused by arson though I have no idea what the motive (if any) could have been. The neighborhood ICK Chicago is located in is poor and Black, as is most of the South Side of Chicago, though it was starting to be gentrified as of 2012 when I was last there. I think there was a hit put out on this church, just because of it being there and the demographic it attracted (wealthy suburbanites i.e mostly white people). My husband thinks it was arson to collect on insurance money, but I don't buy that. The war zone that has become the South Side of Chicago can, and does, claim more than human lives.

If you have the means to, please visit the gofundme page that the ICK has set up to repair the damages from the fire. I normally wouldn't put out a crowdfunding call, but the ICK holds a special place in my heart because if I hadn't been to one of their churches, my life never would have changed for the better.

Please keep the ICK in your prayers. They may change your life for the better too.

Feast of St. Therese of Lisieux

Greetings, friends!

Today is the feast day for one of the most beloved saints in the Catholic Church, St. Therese of Lisieux. Also known as St. Therese of the Child Jesus and the Holy Face, she was born Therese Martin in Alencon, France. She was the youngest of five sisters, all of whom would go on to become nuns, much to the joy of their devout parents Louis and Zelie Martin. Therese entered the Carmelite convent where she would spend the remainder of her short life at the age of 15, and died of Tuberculosis at the age of 24. Her time in the convent would be a profound spiritual journey, where her famous "Little Way" would come to fruition.

Prayer card dedicated to St. Therese. Pic found here

Affectionately known as "The Little Flower", devotees who pray her novena (a series of prayers said over a period of days, usually nine days) report encountering roses in some form as a sign that their request has been submitted/granted. I can personally attest to this encounter, as the first time I'd finished praying her novena in college, I was walking to class one morning and took a route I didn't normally take on the campus to get there. I randomly turned my head as I was walking, and saw rose bushes in bloom, despite it being rather late in the year for them. A fellow church lady had told me about this sign, but I did not believe her. Now, I could see for myself that there was some merit to this claim. St. Therese famously said that she would spend her time in heaven doing good works on Earth, and leave roses as her signature, of sorts. My encounter with the roses at school was her way of saying "I got your back".

For more on St. Therese and her spirituality, check out her hagiography here.

Try praying her novena as well. You too might encounter a rose in one form or another.

Welcome to America!

As has been all over the news today, Pope Francis arrived in the US for his first ever visit.

Like many Catholics, I was eagerly awaiting his visit to my home country. From being interviewed about his arrival to the weekly prayers at Mass, having the leader of 1.2 billion Catholics come for a visit is no small affair. I especially look forward to His Holiness speaking to the US Congress, as the Holy Father is not afraid of speaking truth to power.

For all those presidential candidates who claim to be "Catholic". Pic found here

Interestingly enough, it was only in recent decades that Popes ever visited America. Previous presidential administrations stretching all the way back to the Founding Fathers expressed open hostility towards the Pope and the idea of a PAPIST ever setting foot in the White House would have set those presidents into carpet-chewing rage. The late Gore Vidal alluded to those sentiments in some of his historical works published during his lifetime. I believe it was Pope St. John Paul II who was the first Pope to visit the US and that was during the Reagan years, thus ending the long papal drought in DC.

If His Holiness should somehow find his way to my little corner of the internet, I would like to take this moment to say welcome to America, Holy Father. The United States may be a blight on the world, but only God can make good out of evil. I will pray that you use whatever influence you have to make that so.

Apostol-asy

Greetings!

The title of today's post is a combination of the words "apostolate" and "apostasy", two subjects that came to my attention recently and deserve to be addressed.

Defined, so I don't have to write it out. Pic found here

In the Catholic world, apostolates are groups run by either lay people or religious and are dedicated to spreading a particular Catholic message to the world. They may have names like Latin Mass Society, Tradition-Family-Property, or Church Militant, each dedicated to spreading the Catholic message in a world that needs it. Apostolates may also be informal, like a particularly well-versed member of the parish advocating for the Faith to his fellow parishioners. While many apostolates are legit and do wonders for helping to both evangelize the unbelievers and reaffirm the faith of the flock, there are a number of apostolates out there that at first glance might seem orthodox, but a little digging reveals something else. And it's for that "something else" that I will not link to any of the apostolates I mention in this post.

About a week ago, a close friend of the family emailed my husband a link to an apostolate in Ohio called Holy Love. The subject of the link was that the bishop was cracking down on this particular apostolate, and that "Jesus was unhappy about it". I will not link to the website of this apostolate because I believe it to be dubious at best, heretical at worst. I came to that conclusion after taking a look around the apostolate's website and found that they claim Jesus and Mary make regular apparitions at the property this apostolate is located on. There was also a schedule of upcoming events that showed the apparitions slated to appear at certain times.

My reason for doubting the veracity of these appearances stems from what I'd been taught in Catechism class. The Austrian priest who taught me my Catechism explained that the Virgin Mary, Jesus, and the Saints do make appearances when they're needed, to whoever needs them and wherever that may be. What they do NOT do, however, is make scheduled appearances the way musicians do at rock concerts or what have you. Anybody who claims otherwise is either deluded or demonic.

I let this trip down the internet wormhole pass and went about life as usual, until Sunday when a friend's innocuous Facebook status about biscuits resulted in a person doing the internet equivalent of a bible-thumper howling about sin with their comment. The commenter, when finished yelling about the state of spiritual warfare, then linked to this website called the St. Michael World Apostolate.

Karl Malden was not a thumper. He just played one. I would have been very sad if he was. Pic found here

This particular outfit claims to promote the message of Our Lady of Fatima, but reading through the website raised a number of red flags. For one, there was the whole "commies crawling out of the walls!" mentality and Russophobia invoked when describing the aftermath of Vatican II up till the present day. I found such blather insulting due to both my Russian heritage and my knowledge of history. Unfortunately, this ignorant fascist mindset is a sadly common feature of Fatimaistas (devotees of Our Lady of Fatima) and their various associations. The big one, however, was the obsession with the year 1972.

In 1972, Pope Paul VI made his famous remark that "the smoke of Satan had entered the Vatican". The site claimed that in that year, the pope was deposed and Satan incarnate sat on the Chair of Peter using a body double. In addition to that load of nonsense, the site featured an obviously doctored photo that their reputed "seer" interpreted as confirming that the Antichrist had indeed arrived on Earth in 1972.

It's crackpots like these apostolates mentioned that set my bullshit detector on high alert whenever someone mentions the name of an apostolate and how "spot-on" or "righteous" they are. Granted some are more crackpot than others, but spotting the bullshit never fails to set my blood boiling. THESE sorts of outfits are how good people of good faith get set out on a wrong and dangerous path. THIS is how people lose faith and become apostates. THIS kind of bullshit gives Catholicism a bad name. And these crackpots NEED to be cracked down on so that they don't cause more damage and drive more souls away!

Protesting Planned Parenthood

Today was the big nationwide protest against the infamous abortion provider, Planned Parenthood. While I've been fairly quiet about the controversial videos released which proport to show Planned Parenthood executives and staff engaging in illegal activities (organ trafficking, infanticide, etc), know this: I am, and will always be, pro-life. My pregnancy and subsequent birth served to reinforce and enhance that which I had been taught regarding the sanctity of life, both in AND out of the womb.

A card my hubby picked up from the registration table. If you don't respect life in utero, you'll view it as worthless outside of the womb too.

It's one thing to see a picture of an ultrasound baby on a poster or hold a plastic fetus at various stages of development. But it's also something totally different to actually see the fetus wiggling and floating around in utero, real-time in front of your eyes and instinctively know "wow. That's mine. I made that."

It would be one thing if Planned Parenthood actually did what it claimed to do and offered STD testing and treatment, counseling, women's health care, etc. But it doesn't. Abortion is ALL that Planned Parenthood does, and the dishonesty put forth by that organization is an injustice to women everywhere. That has always been my beef with Planned Parenthood, even when I did not have the vocabulary to articulate it in the way I wanted to.

While I am largely in favor of crisis pregnancy centers as a means of giving women an alternative to murdering their offspring in utero, I've gotten away from blindly supporting them like I used to. When I got pregnant, I went to a crisis pregnancy center (CPC) not because I wanted an abortion, but because I was a low-income individual seeking to get low-cost prenatal care. I was hoping a CPC could assist me with that.

Feast of the Assumption

Happy Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary everyone!

Mary ascending into Heaven at the end of her Earthly life (pic found here)

Hope you all remembered to go to church, and if possible, brought herbs for your priest to bless.

That particular custom is one that I've only recently learned about. Apparently, bringing herbs (both for culinary and medicinal use) was a tradition that only fell out of favor with the advent of the Second Vatican Council in 1962. I might never have known about the herb blessing, had it not been mentioned in the emailed bulletin of the local Latin Mass church here in town that my husband and I attend every other week or so. The things you learn!

I brought my Mother's Milk tea to be blessed, and my husband brought a big fistful of basil from the garden. It made the car smell good on our way up there.

Enjoy your Sunday, folks!

Exile

You've built your life up

It seems so secure

But then the unexpected appears

And you crash down unsure

The ones you called friends and allies

Turn their backs in your darkest hour

They will even betray you

Drunk with newfound power

Now you must flee

Your life depends on it

Where you are going, God knows

But this current place is unfit

Finally, God guides you to a new place

You can settle and begin to rebuild

But, oh how the hate burns inside you

For the betrayers who wanted you killed

The world says karma will get them

Jesus says turn the other cheek

While the betrayers bask in their malevolent bliss

And your own faith feels so weak

But then something miraculous happens

Your utmost dependence on God brings fruit

His protection and guidance sustain you

And doubt begins to uproot

And when you encounter reminders

Of the life you'd left behind

It hurts to know you can never return

But you are also no longer blind

There are others out there like you

Pushed away or thrown out like the trash

You are an exile

And like the phoenix, you will rise again from the ash

tamtam