creation of the world according…to sylvia

Here’s a springtime fable from my good friend Sylvia. It’s probably one of the better ones out there, so be sure to pass it along. It should be the one we hand down from generation to generation as it’s so worth retelling. I’m sure the women of humankind will agree that it’s “the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help us God.” Especially since it was She who created us all, the best among us in her image.

A little girl asked her Mom, “How did the human race appear?”
The Mom answered, “God made Adam and Eve and they had children,
and so was all mankind made..”

 Domenico Zampieri, Adam and Eve (1623-25) (Wikipedia)


Two days later the girl asked her Dad the same question.
The Dad answered,
“Many years ago there were monkeys from which the human race evolved.”


The confused girl returned to her mother and said,
“Mom, how is it possible that you told me the human race was created by God,
and Dad said they developed from monkeys?”
The mother answered,
“Well, Dear, it’s very simple. I told you about my side of the family
and your father told you about his..”

need we say more…except…amen, amen, amen…hugmamma.

“balancing action and inaction,” life

Jesus entering Jerusalem on a donkey

Image via Wikipedia

Today is Palm Sunday, signifying Christ‘s triumphal arrival into Jerusalem. A week from now we will be celebrating His resurrection from death. That is the pivotal point for all Catholics, when we are saved from eternal damnation. And so today begins the holiest week in the Catholic Church, and the busiest. Each day provides us an opportunity to participate in the ritual leading up to Christ’s crucifixion and resurrection.

During Jesus life on earth this next week, Holy Week, unfolded as his own personal hell. He went from riding on a donkey, his followers waving palm branches as they honored Him, to being scourged and made to carry a wooden cross, upon which he would then be nailed, a sign over his head mocking Him as king of the Jews.

The Passion of the Christ

Image via Wikipedia

Actor/Director Mel Gibson‘s movie shown several years ago, was the most horrific representation of Christ’s suffering from the moment He was struck repeatedly with leather straps whose tips bore lead beads, to the crown of thorns shoved mercilessly into his scalp, to the huge nails that were hammered into his hands and feet. I was unable to watch most of the film, and I tried to muffle the sounds by shoving my fingers into my ears. I hadn’t imagined how overwhelmingly gruesome the depiction would be. That is one movie I will never be able to watch again. Never.

I find it difficult to fathom the suffering human beings can endure. After today’s lengthy reading of the scriptures, Father Brian launched into his homily. The contrast was jarring. Somber words one minute, near-shouting the next. A mimimum of movement one minute, bold, sweeping ones the next. He spoke of a friend with whom he visited in Bellingham, a town bordering British Columbia. It was almost as though Father was speaking of Job, the man who couldn’t get a break from the bad stuff life was throwing his way.

Andy, Father Brian’s friend, was married, with a baby on the way. At about the time he and his wife learned of her pregnancy, he was stricken with cancer throughout his abdomen. He was going through chemotherapy treatment, which left him depleted. Advice from friends and loved ones runs the gamut from fighting the disease with all of his might, to letting go and allowing God‘s will be done. Needless to say the ordeal has Andy wafting in and out of depression. Somewhere along the line, the doctors discovered that the cancer has spread throughout his spinal column.

Jesus calls Lazarus to Life

Image by Lawrence OP via Flickr

Wouldn’t it be nice if Father Brian had the ability to relieve Andy of the cancer, by performing a miracle? That’s what the non-believers taunted as Christ hung on the cross. If He was truly the Son of God, then why didn’t His Father rescue Him? That, as we know, was not God’s will.

While Andy’s situation exemplifies human suffering at its worst, Father Brian drew a parallel between his life, Christ’s life, and our lives. Though our challenges may not be as great as theirs, like them we vacillate between agressively promoting that about which we are passionate, to passively accepting our fate and putting our lives into God’s hands. We are constantly seeking the right balance. In doing so Father concluded that we should not only pray for guidance, but that we should also find someone with whom we can openly share our sorrows.  Both will enable us to shoulder whatever burdens we will bear throughout our lives.

a fine balance…this gift of life…hugmamma.   


two guardian angels, comcast

My blogging is like speaking into God’s ear. I now have 2 guardian angels looking after me, Mark and Michael. I wonder if Michael’s the archangel who threw Satan out of the Garden of Eden, after he convinced Eve to get Adam to take a bite of the apple? I might be moving up the chain of command. Who knows? I may hear from God. Didn’t I tell you I’ve never had any qualms about contacting the CEO? Bring her on!

I’d sent a lengthy email to Mark, the one who got the “snowball” rolling the last time I had internet connection problems. In response, very quickly I might add, Michael emailed me back saying someone would call me in the morning to finally resolve the situation, and discuss crediting my bill for zero internet service today and yesterday.

I wish Mark and Michael would sprinkle some heavenly dust and miraculously connect me to “internet space,” permanently, none of this to-ing and fro-ing, for h—–‘s sake!  As I said previously, Comcast should bottle their customer service, telephone customer service that is, and this time, share it with their technical services departments. When they get themselves squared away, THEN they might spread it around to other companies. My girlfriend and I were just agreeing today that they spare no effort or expense to get our business, but once we’re “in the bag,” we’re “out on a limb” when problems arise.

But I still have faith in not one, but two, guardian angels. I just know they’re going to perform a miracle. I can just feel it in my arthritic bones.

hugs for mark and michael…hugmamma.

it’s a good morning, there’s always hope

We all have moments of “why me?” I had one all day yesterday. Always wanting to “fix” things, it’s frustrating to sit around waiting for someonelse to do the “fixing.” I’m a professional wife and mom, an amateur decorator, an amateur Julia Child, an amateur antique dealer, an amateur psychologist, an amateur writer and blogger, an amateur exercising fanatic (since I’ve not been consistent lately), an amateur, self-diagnosing “m.d.” Don’t all these amateur positions qualify me as an amateur “fixer-upper?” Forgive the rambling, one day I’ll clarify. For now, trust me when I say “I’m having one of those moments,” going forward. At this moment, the end is not yet in sight. Just keep me in your thoughts, along with whomever else it is you wish good karma.

But the point of this is to say it’s a “good morning.” Every new day is a good morning, an opportunity to right what’s wrong. I am blest and fortunate to feel hopeful that I can fix whatever needs fixing. Without hope, where would we be, any of us? Maybe not here, but that’s not a viable option. Because we do have hope. That was our legacy from the story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. If we favor reading fanciful tales to our children to instill hope, why can’t we adults do the same for ourselves? We’re all of us just over-sized children, or should think of ourselves that way. Children always have hope, no matter their circumstances. We can learn a lot from them; I’m learning phenomenal things from my amazing daughter, who has the youthful beauty of a ballerina and the old soul of a wizened Merlin.

If we could all learn to listen to our children, that’s my hope. Isn’t that what we wished for when we were children? That our parents might have listened to us? But we can’t turn back the clock, so let’s all revel in a new day of renewed hope, of compassion for ourselves and others, and for a more positive environment, politically, religiously, and personally.

with a new day, there’s always hope…hugmamma.