Sometimes you can not win. Just five minutes trying to insert a picture to this blog and nada. So it may have to wait.
Just wanted to wish everyone a happy remembrance of the season. Personally I will have a quiet Christmas Eve and Day. The big event is Buddy's wedding on the 28th so there will be a quick trip to Nebraska.Then home to ponder decisions and more decisions.
So to all you you best wishes.
Wednesday, December 24, 2014
Tuesday, December 23, 2014
three magi
My Three Magi
Yesterday, as I prepared to lector at mass, my eyes kept looking at the three nearly life sized magi in the crèche scene. Each king brought a gift that held a special significance for the Christ Child. I began to recall the gift bearers in my life, my parents, special teachers, friends and even my ex-husband had given me gifts that had helped shaped me as person. Yet there were others who had given me, not an outright gift but a road to know the gift Christ had given me my faith. My three magi were three priests who had influenced my life and brought to a deeper faith.
The first of my magi was a priest from the East just as the original magi journeyed from the East. Father Kazmerck was a Pennsylvania born priest serving in a Nebraska parish. In fact, he and my mother had grown up in neighboring parishes and perhaps this is why Mom placed me in school at St. T’s. Rather than another public school when she disapproved of the plan to advance two grade levels. At any rate St’s became my grade school and Father Kaz entered my life. I can not honestly recall ever seeing the man in a cassock or black suit. His usual attire was a Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks, but one never forgot he was priest despite the usual attire. His laughter and his optimistic view of life’s ups and downs were products of a deep faith. Parishioners in the working class church were never afraid to approach the man and now I wonder if his clothing made it easier.
Kaz was unconventional in other ways. He allowed me to be in the catechism class though Mom was no longer catholic. He accepted the fact that my Saturdays would be spent at Lutheran religious classes. To him Faith was the first step, and it did not seem to matter to him what rite I would later follow. Not once was I allowed to feel different from any student in the school. I was one of his flocks. That was his gift to me was acceptance of me as a child of God and worthy of his love. His faith in me to find faith in myself was his gift to my life. To this day I do not judge a person by labels but how they treat others.
My second of my magi was from east also—Eastern Europe. He had come from the behind the Iron Curtain. His belief was not welcome in his homeland; in fact, it was dangerous. Tall and thin he was the opposite of Father Kaz. His cassock was full length and so starched that one could imagine cutting yourself on its edges. The berretta was never off his head except in the classroom or the chapel. Where Kaz seemed lax about dogma and canonical law, Father Ritz was a stickler on form. My classmates I am sure altered their Friday confessions based on who was on the other side of the screen. Father Ritz made sure you prayed your sins away while Kaz covered a multitude of sins with a Hail Mary or two.
Still he gave me an insight to the quality of faith. Here was a man who had seen persecution because he was a priest and a man who lived his faith. He wanted my conversion when the rest of my class was confirmed at age twelve. He never said it out loud but his attitude toward me indicated that hope. His strictness scared me and I often pushed his buttons during the religious instruction he led. It was this belief and the sight of seeing him pray alone in the basement chapel that taught me the value of having a faith that shaped your decisions in life. His faith so deep, and so personal made me see the value of having faith.
The third of my magi came later in life. Floundering after a divorce and finding little or no comfort in my church, the local priest invited me to mass. He was serving with me on a drug prevention council and somehow he sensed my lack of faith. Not wanting to say no, I went the next Sunday. Suddenly I was spiritually home. Maybe it was all the childhood training at St. T’s but I believe it was an answer to a call. At any rate, I began RCIA training encouraged but not pushed by this caring priest. I have never looked back from that moment at that mass. His simple invitation was a gift. H e gave me the gift of a spiritual home where my faith could bloom and fill my spirit.
The magi brought gifts of significance to the Christ Child and my magi brought me gifts also. The gifts were not costly but they were rich in blessings.
Yesterday, as I prepared to lector at mass, my eyes kept looking at the three nearly life sized magi in the crèche scene. Each king brought a gift that held a special significance for the Christ Child. I began to recall the gift bearers in my life, my parents, special teachers, friends and even my ex-husband had given me gifts that had helped shaped me as person. Yet there were others who had given me, not an outright gift but a road to know the gift Christ had given me my faith. My three magi were three priests who had influenced my life and brought to a deeper faith.
The first of my magi was a priest from the East just as the original magi journeyed from the East. Father Kazmerck was a Pennsylvania born priest serving in a Nebraska parish. In fact, he and my mother had grown up in neighboring parishes and perhaps this is why Mom placed me in school at St. T’s. Rather than another public school when she disapproved of the plan to advance two grade levels. At any rate St’s became my grade school and Father Kaz entered my life. I can not honestly recall ever seeing the man in a cassock or black suit. His usual attire was a Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks, but one never forgot he was priest despite the usual attire. His laughter and his optimistic view of life’s ups and downs were products of a deep faith. Parishioners in the working class church were never afraid to approach the man and now I wonder if his clothing made it easier.
Kaz was unconventional in other ways. He allowed me to be in the catechism class though Mom was no longer catholic. He accepted the fact that my Saturdays would be spent at Lutheran religious classes. To him Faith was the first step, and it did not seem to matter to him what rite I would later follow. Not once was I allowed to feel different from any student in the school. I was one of his flocks. That was his gift to me was acceptance of me as a child of God and worthy of his love. His faith in me to find faith in myself was his gift to my life. To this day I do not judge a person by labels but how they treat others.
My second of my magi was from east also—Eastern Europe. He had come from the behind the Iron Curtain. His belief was not welcome in his homeland; in fact, it was dangerous. Tall and thin he was the opposite of Father Kaz. His cassock was full length and so starched that one could imagine cutting yourself on its edges. The berretta was never off his head except in the classroom or the chapel. Where Kaz seemed lax about dogma and canonical law, Father Ritz was a stickler on form. My classmates I am sure altered their Friday confessions based on who was on the other side of the screen. Father Ritz made sure you prayed your sins away while Kaz covered a multitude of sins with a Hail Mary or two.
Still he gave me an insight to the quality of faith. Here was a man who had seen persecution because he was a priest and a man who lived his faith. He wanted my conversion when the rest of my class was confirmed at age twelve. He never said it out loud but his attitude toward me indicated that hope. His strictness scared me and I often pushed his buttons during the religious instruction he led. It was this belief and the sight of seeing him pray alone in the basement chapel that taught me the value of having a faith that shaped your decisions in life. His faith so deep, and so personal made me see the value of having faith.
The third of my magi came later in life. Floundering after a divorce and finding little or no comfort in my church, the local priest invited me to mass. He was serving with me on a drug prevention council and somehow he sensed my lack of faith. Not wanting to say no, I went the next Sunday. Suddenly I was spiritually home. Maybe it was all the childhood training at St. T’s but I believe it was an answer to a call. At any rate, I began RCIA training encouraged but not pushed by this caring priest. I have never looked back from that moment at that mass. His simple invitation was a gift. H e gave me the gift of a spiritual home where my faith could bloom and fill my spirit.
The magi brought gifts of significance to the Christ Child and my magi brought me gifts also. The gifts were not costly but they were rich in blessings.
Friday, October 3, 2014
fall friday---balance
It is October"s first Friday and it is a fall day. In my area of the country it could still be the 90s or snowing in blizzard fashion. Today how is cool and silver in color. No golden light from the sun to dispel the Puritan simplicity of the weather. I am one of the few who love this cool, cloudy atmosphere. In fact I actually prefer the temperatures that are below 80 but above 30. Rarely does a coat adorn my body until it is below the 30 mark and then often I don the protection only if it is blowing. Sorry sun lovers this is me and I am sticking to it.
Elizabeth Lowell I believe wrote a poem celebrating the silvery landscape of her native New England and how it mirrored her Puritan soul. While the words do not stay in my mind the spirit of the poem does. She is saying I believe that life should be simple and very balanced --- neither a blaze of brilliant color blazing through all life has to offer or deep ebony and jet denying any pleasure. Silver is a balance of the two extremes and that is the way i choose to live. Yes, there are crimson and orange moment s of emotional highs at times and there are times noir is the only word that fits but for the most part life is in a balanced state between the two extremes.
Balance allows me to have time to savor the joys of life and to adapt to its sorrows. It gives the emotional stability to change what needs to be changed and to treasure what remains. It gives me time to create and to enjoy what others create. Ir is harmony which is a good ting in both music and life. So silver is my color choice for everyday life that allows be rise to the brightness of joy and comforts me in the darkness of sorrow.
Elizabeth Lowell I believe wrote a poem celebrating the silvery landscape of her native New England and how it mirrored her Puritan soul. While the words do not stay in my mind the spirit of the poem does. She is saying I believe that life should be simple and very balanced --- neither a blaze of brilliant color blazing through all life has to offer or deep ebony and jet denying any pleasure. Silver is a balance of the two extremes and that is the way i choose to live. Yes, there are crimson and orange moment s of emotional highs at times and there are times noir is the only word that fits but for the most part life is in a balanced state between the two extremes.
Balance allows me to have time to savor the joys of life and to adapt to its sorrows. It gives the emotional stability to change what needs to be changed and to treasure what remains. It gives me time to create and to enjoy what others create. Ir is harmony which is a good ting in both music and life. So silver is my color choice for everyday life that allows be rise to the brightness of joy and comforts me in the darkness of sorrow.
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Odd thoughts are scampering around the interior of my mind Want an example? Two nights ago I woke up wondering if you died suddenly would you know it was death? Think about it one minute you are breathing and the next you are not. So is there a nano second you realize what is happening? if you are ill for weeks or longer you know death is coming; maybe the exact moment but as the onset is taking longer might it actually be more of a "life" event? Will you hover over the remains thinking that was me; now what. Morbid morning thoughts that occupied my thoughts for awhile.
Second oddment of day is why do I hate grocery shopping? Is it the money spent? NO! I think it is the actual act of going to the store and pushing the cart. I actually try to avoid it , and whenI do go, no Walmart huge store trek for me. I even avoid the larger Dillons( spelled Krogers) in my home town by shopping at its smaller store. In order to cut down on trips during school months when free (writing) time is rare and snatched, I order 12 meals a month from two local ladies ,The Sunflower Supper club. Two times a month they deliver six frozen meals to which I can add a salad or not. Today I went to bountiful baskets for the first times. I got carrots, lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, honey dew. granny smith apples, peaches, plums. lemons, pomegrantes,and bananas for a minimal fee. 7AM pickup is tough at they close at 7:30. Everything not picked up plus extras goes to a local fire house for free. The quality was good and while you do not have a choice, it means the produce department is a miss. It is a twice a month event.
Third thought is why do things happen. One of my dearest pals has been diagnosed in the early stages of the"A" disease. She is beautiful, intelligent, and ten years younger than I am. A good mind and a elfin spirit is being slowly erased. Such sadness when I dwell even for a moment on it. Yet, I must admit ( despite my bad typing) I am glad that it is not me. Compassion and guilt for my relief are mingled today as she moves away from her teaching family to be closer to her mother and sisters.
So my mind is swirling with odd unrelated thoughts. I will leave it here and ponder the possibilities
Second oddment of day is why do I hate grocery shopping? Is it the money spent? NO! I think it is the actual act of going to the store and pushing the cart. I actually try to avoid it , and whenI do go, no Walmart huge store trek for me. I even avoid the larger Dillons( spelled Krogers) in my home town by shopping at its smaller store. In order to cut down on trips during school months when free (writing) time is rare and snatched, I order 12 meals a month from two local ladies ,The Sunflower Supper club. Two times a month they deliver six frozen meals to which I can add a salad or not. Today I went to bountiful baskets for the first times. I got carrots, lettuce, carrots, tomatoes, honey dew. granny smith apples, peaches, plums. lemons, pomegrantes,and bananas for a minimal fee. 7AM pickup is tough at they close at 7:30. Everything not picked up plus extras goes to a local fire house for free. The quality was good and while you do not have a choice, it means the produce department is a miss. It is a twice a month event.
Third thought is why do things happen. One of my dearest pals has been diagnosed in the early stages of the"A" disease. She is beautiful, intelligent, and ten years younger than I am. A good mind and a elfin spirit is being slowly erased. Such sadness when I dwell even for a moment on it. Yet, I must admit ( despite my bad typing) I am glad that it is not me. Compassion and guilt for my relief are mingled today as she moves away from her teaching family to be closer to her mother and sisters.
So my mind is swirling with odd unrelated thoughts. I will leave it here and ponder the possibilities
Thursday, September 18, 2014
contained chaos
Picture day at the school always means that for one day students are in flux during class to get id photos done. This means teachers have to teach parts of lessons twice but there are always some students who miss all or a major part of the lesson. Today however the intercom is not working so we send the entire class at one time--all juniors in one hour. Less coming and going but empty classrooms for that hour in some areas. So lesson plans are pushed back, altered and chaotic but normal will return tomorrow.
Chaos has been this week---- not busy but not organized either. Meds were a two trip process because clerk did not look deep enough in the "D" basket. Tuesday was peer edit in the college class and one student said I do not have it done. She was astonished when I said it will be done when you leave class tonight. High school students in night class need to learn college is college and excuses are not taken unless perhaps you have died and resurrected.Forgot an appointment last night while I held Scholars"bowl practice so that has been pushed off until tonight which makes the plans for tonight run later, and the rest of the week does not look much better. Life is interesting.
So I have not touched the memoir since Sunday and that was short on the amount i usually try to write. Herb Lore seems to be in limbo but ideas are percolating through the morass of my mental state. Both will gain pages and words in the next three days.Saturday will be a writing day from noon on the morning is busy. Sunday I lector at mass and am a sponsor for a student at National Honor Society induction( honored that the student asked me to do it)so writing will be hit and miss but it will get done.
Evenings this week have been spent with the Roosevelts. What a fascinating family. I read the book Franklin and Eleanor, and this series on PBS is adding to my knowledge. It is a major time drain but worth it. So this has added to the chaos as that is my writing life and the need for order is building. I will get this done.
Chaos has been this week---- not busy but not organized either. Meds were a two trip process because clerk did not look deep enough in the "D" basket. Tuesday was peer edit in the college class and one student said I do not have it done. She was astonished when I said it will be done when you leave class tonight. High school students in night class need to learn college is college and excuses are not taken unless perhaps you have died and resurrected.Forgot an appointment last night while I held Scholars"bowl practice so that has been pushed off until tonight which makes the plans for tonight run later, and the rest of the week does not look much better. Life is interesting.
So I have not touched the memoir since Sunday and that was short on the amount i usually try to write. Herb Lore seems to be in limbo but ideas are percolating through the morass of my mental state. Both will gain pages and words in the next three days.Saturday will be a writing day from noon on the morning is busy. Sunday I lector at mass and am a sponsor for a student at National Honor Society induction( honored that the student asked me to do it)so writing will be hit and miss but it will get done.
Evenings this week have been spent with the Roosevelts. What a fascinating family. I read the book Franklin and Eleanor, and this series on PBS is adding to my knowledge. It is a major time drain but worth it. So this has added to the chaos as that is my writing life and the need for order is building. I will get this done.
Saturday, September 6, 2014
2 weeks later
So it has been tow weeks. Chalk it up to the return of a scheduled format for my life. Yes, folks school has begun. We began teachers meetings on the 22nd ,and I am readjusting to having a set routine. I function well with a set format but after our long summer ( it began in late April) it is a bit of a shock. Perhaps that is why I am tired at 8 and asleep by ten, awake at 4 and not really able to go back to sleep. Change is good right?
Change has come also in the fact I now teach 10-3:30 rather than 8-2. I find myself still ready to leave the house by six. That will have to change ,and it will. I will probably be there around 9:30 most days. Yet I am beginning to realize it may take a few weeks to get it straight.
Life is full of changes. Jobs come and go. People drift in and out. You move house or town. Habits change because of health or economic decisions. Some People find change difficult, they fight it and resolve it only after much heartache and strife. I am not one of those. My childhood made sure of that. Dad's jobs moved us--Ohio to Nebraska-to Missouri and back to Nebraska. We lived in four Nebraska towns and I added another with marriage. Since then I have moved on my own to South Dakota and Kansas( two towns in that state.) My career has been teaching for the main part but I have been a pizza server,a reporter for three papers , a stay at home mom which I loved and even an Avon lady. I have taught English and AP English, Spanish, French.Speech,and debate. Change could well be my middle name.
Flexibility is a helpful trait and it will coming in the future. The changes may not be my choice when they come. I am at the age when things will end--- work, driving, independent living. Not happy thoughts but my prayer is that I can accept them as they come and not rail against them as my Mother did. My father was ill the last years of his life and this hot tempered man became a gentle soul who accepted life and lived it as it came. Two models to follow and it is my hope I choose the latter. I loved both parents but never do I want to stress my girls the way Mom stressed her family.
Now today is a change. Living near the state fairgrounds this week has been tough since I moved here. Concerts blare for ten days , and parking is nonexistent and even my drive has been used. Cattle rigs run my quiet street as it is a path to the animal entrance. I never attend the fair as crowds are a big bugbear for me. This year there is change. First the city extended the no park zone so no one can park n front of my house and then I am going to be at the fair from 1-5 today.It is a sign of my dedication to removing our president governor from office that I and a friend are manning a booth in support of his opponent. Change can be good and perhaps create good.
Change has come also in the fact I now teach 10-3:30 rather than 8-2. I find myself still ready to leave the house by six. That will have to change ,and it will. I will probably be there around 9:30 most days. Yet I am beginning to realize it may take a few weeks to get it straight.
Life is full of changes. Jobs come and go. People drift in and out. You move house or town. Habits change because of health or economic decisions. Some People find change difficult, they fight it and resolve it only after much heartache and strife. I am not one of those. My childhood made sure of that. Dad's jobs moved us--Ohio to Nebraska-to Missouri and back to Nebraska. We lived in four Nebraska towns and I added another with marriage. Since then I have moved on my own to South Dakota and Kansas( two towns in that state.) My career has been teaching for the main part but I have been a pizza server,a reporter for three papers , a stay at home mom which I loved and even an Avon lady. I have taught English and AP English, Spanish, French.Speech,and debate. Change could well be my middle name.
Flexibility is a helpful trait and it will coming in the future. The changes may not be my choice when they come. I am at the age when things will end--- work, driving, independent living. Not happy thoughts but my prayer is that I can accept them as they come and not rail against them as my Mother did. My father was ill the last years of his life and this hot tempered man became a gentle soul who accepted life and lived it as it came. Two models to follow and it is my hope I choose the latter. I loved both parents but never do I want to stress my girls the way Mom stressed her family.
Now today is a change. Living near the state fairgrounds this week has been tough since I moved here. Concerts blare for ten days , and parking is nonexistent and even my drive has been used. Cattle rigs run my quiet street as it is a path to the animal entrance. I never attend the fair as crowds are a big bugbear for me. This year there is change. First the city extended the no park zone so no one can park n front of my house and then I am going to be at the fair from 1-5 today.It is a sign of my dedication to removing our president governor from office that I and a friend are manning a booth in support of his opponent. Change can be good and perhaps create good.
Saturday, August 23, 2014
ok it is Saturday and hot
I am in exile. The heat is keeping me inside. I just do not function well when it much over 85 so triple digit temperatures can actually destroy my mental attitude. So I was up and out early this AM. BreaKfast at Brewed Awakening was a belgian waffle and then off to the big Dillons. I do not go there often--- too many temptations. Home before 9:30 and now I only venture out to help Boba potty. Zoe and Winston go out the door, and come back quickly to plop by the nearest a/c vent. Believe me I understand.
Thursday and Friday were pre-school meetings and so will next week. The keynoter on bullying made us think and may be rethink some of our precepts. Enjoyed him immensely. I think this will be a good year and next year Buhler High will be 100 years old. Nowhere near as old as Eton and Harrow but old for our much younger Country.
This is short. I will try for a longer one but today is other writing, bill paying etc.
Thursday and Friday were pre-school meetings and so will next week. The keynoter on bullying made us think and may be rethink some of our precepts. Enjoyed him immensely. I think this will be a good year and next year Buhler High will be 100 years old. Nowhere near as old as Eton and Harrow but old for our much younger Country.
This is short. I will try for a longer one but today is other writing, bill paying etc.
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