The trap of "Romantic Orthodoxy"

Interesting & thought-provoking posting in Rod Dreher's blog found at:

(http://www.beliefnet.com/blogs/crunchycon/2006/08/trap-of-romantic-orthodoxy.html)

I just finished reading Fr. Schmemman's journal, and this quote can be found on page 276. Rod (and Fr. Alexander) give much food for thought. Here is Rod's post:

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Tuesday, August 22, 2006

The trap of "Romantic Orthodoxy"

In a journal entry from Nov. 1, 1980, Father Alexander Schmemann,
the renowned Orthodox priest, discerned a problem with what he
called "Romantic Orthodoxy", which can be distinguished by the
following characteristics:

"+ nominalism (e.g., non-existing Patriarchates)
+ blind liturgical conservatism
+ cult of the past
+ theological preoccupation almost exclusively with the Fathers
+ "apocalypticism"
+ hatred for the contemporary world (not for this world in general)
+ emotionalism
+ cult of externals (beard, cassocks, prayer ropes, style)"

"In other words," wrote Schmemann, "it includes all that makes
Orthodoxy weak, that makes it into an internal ghetto (and not an
appeal, a fight, life). Romanticism, in life and in culture, is, above all,
a dream, the primacy of the heart over discernment and truth. It pushes
reality away for the sake of an imagined reality; it is belief in illusions."

Father Schmemann, of course, was talking specifically about the
Orthodox church, but there is wisdom there for all of us who hold on
to small-o orthodox religion, in whatever tradition. My experience is
almost wholly limited to the Catholic Church, but there are some good
general principles in this for the small-o orthodox to watch out for. We
live in a time of such chaos within the churches that it's easy for the
orthodox to substitute slavish adherence to ritual and Henny-Pennyism
(i.e., "The sky is falling!") for authentic spirituality. For me -- and this
is something I would have added to Fr. Schmemann's list -- a particular
temptation has been to get caught up in Church politics, and to allow
"churchiness" to occupy much of the attention that ought to have been
going to advancing on the path to holiness. There was a time not all
that long ago when I imagined that being preoccupied with the
advances and retreats of the forces of Catholic orthodoxy was the same
thing as being and becoming a good Catholic Christian.

The "cult of the past" is a particular temptation too for us tradition-
minded Christians. It's very easy to look around at the loosey-goosey
religion promulgated by Father Frootloop and Sister Stretchpants (and
their dopplegangers in other churches and traditions) and to idealize
the 1950s, when the Church was rock-solid. But that solidity must
have been a Potemkin village at some level, or things wouldn't have
fallen apart so quickly in the 1960s, which is the decade we love
(appropriately, I hasten to add) to demonize. Could it be that in that
decade, very large numbers of people were going through the motions,
but the living faith itself never touched their hearts?

A few years ago I was in the Netherlands talking with a professor
about the collapse of the Church and cultural conservatism in Holland.
He said that when the Second World War ended, people returned to the
social forms that had existed prior to the war. But those forms had
been hollowed out by the trauma of the war. When the first gusts from
the counterculture blew through the Netherlands in the early 1960s, it
all went down like a house of cards. I wonder, then, if the Dutch
churches in the immediate postwar period were caught up in a "cult of
externals," mistaking the form of corporate worship and personal piety
for actual faith -- and so they didn't see the internal weakness
developing.

It Isn't the Church ... It's You!

It Isn't the Church ... It's You!

If you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
You needn't slip your clothes in a grip
And start on a long, long hike.

You'll only find what you left behind,
For there's nothing really new.
It's a knock at yourself when you knock your church;
It isn't the church -- it's you.

When everything seems to be going wrong,
And trouble seems everywhere brewing;
When prayer meeting, Young People's meeting, and all,
Seem simmering slowly -- stewing,
Just take a look at yourself and say,
"What's the use in being blue?"
Are you doing your "bit" to make things "hit"?
It isn't the church -- it's you.

It's really strange sometimes, don't you know,
That things go as well as they do,
When we think of the little -- the very small mite --
We add to the work of the few.
We sit, and stand around, and complain of what's done,
And do very little but fuss.
Are we bearing our share of the burdens to bear?
It isn't the church -- it's us.

So, if you want to have the kind of a church
Like the kind of a church you like,
Put off your guile, and put on your best smile,
And hike, my brother, just hike,
To the work in hand that has to be done --
The work of saving the few.
It isn't the church that is wrong, my boy;
It isn't the church -- it's you.

-- Unknown

Taken from The Best Loved Poems of the American People, pp.93-94.

I got this from Fr. Joseph Huneycutt's blog: http://southern-orthodoxy.blogspot.com/

Dear Daughter's I Am From Poem

I am from pasta and lentils, from Barilla and ballet,

I am from B Street, crowded, loving, scented with old wine and new detergent.

I am from the desert, from RV trips that never ended.

I am from common sense and strength, from my mother and her mother and her mother.

I am from tears of joy and sadness, from gardens failed and successful.

I am from "she reminds me of her mother" and my grandmother's hands.

I am from long hours standing in church, from incense, from wheat, wine and oil.

I am from Cape Cod, from granola and the one bite rule.

From watching war movies and trying to knit, from the lentil year and Sarah Morton's Day.

I am from my grandparents' desk, walls of photos, jewelry boxes filled with love and the occasional gem.

From an old steel box and recipes in my grandmother's shaky hand and my mother's elegant one.

I am from a line of women who are always together, even when apart, and the line will continue through me, my cousins and shared food.

I am from.....

I am from Grammies blue gravy pitcher, from maple sugar candy, from hand knitted sweaters and the old Singer sewing machine.

I am from the little house and little street; from quiet libraries and bustling kitchens; from Sunapee, cool, clear and deep.

I am from tomatoes, gardenias, cultured cities, mountains and lakes.

I am from seven fishes on Christmas Eve, from roaring fires and roaring laughter, from Josie and Bea and Judith.

I am from big noses and big hearts, from hard work and perseverance, from strength of character and adventure.

From "I love you" and "grosse fess" and "clean your plate".

I am from morning mass and rosaries worn smooth with use, from Pater noster qui es in coelis and Notre Père qui es aux cieux and Otche nash izhe ye see na nyebyesekh.

I am from New England, from Boston and Lake Sunapee; from Italy and Acadie, from gnocchi and poutine rapee.

From Grammies lost glasses, the old Garland stove, the dock floating away with the ice floes. From Memiere's silent laughter and harmonicas, from whalers and sea captains, plumbers and wanderlust, from Mexico and New Hampshire, from sea to sea.

I am from the memories of my heart, from polaroids and slides, from earrings and knitting needles, from shadow boxes of photos, from love expressed around the dinner table, from wine and peas and raspberry jam.

I am from paint brushes and baritones, french horns and icons, from singing and dancing and laughing, from endless support and love and pride.

I am from generations of strong women, holding hands, stretching backwards and forwards throughout time.

Courage Quote

I read this today.

Courage does not always roar. Sometimes, it is the quiet voice at the end of the day saying, "I will try again tomorrow". -Anonymous

What I read this morning

A Prayer of Saint Isaac of Nineveh

Do you wish to commune with God in your mind? Strive to be
merciful... One should first of all begin to be merciful in the
measure that our heavenly Father is merciful.

The purpose of prayer is for us to acquire love for God, for in
prayer can be discovered all sorts of reasons for loving God.

Love of God proceeds from conversing with Him; this conversation of
prayer comes about through stillness, and stillness comes with the
stripping away of the self.

Faith in Christ is living, noetic Light.

A monk who with the eyes of his intellect gazes intently into his
heart while praying will quickly be deemed worthy of mercy.

The Light of Jesus is noetic Light, and blessed is the soul which is
accounted worthy to see it!

Am I a Control Freak?

Interesting question. My first thought would be to say no, I'm not a control freak. I'm in control most of the time, but not obsessively so, and I seldom seek control or power positions. I know one or two people would disagree about that, but they would be wrong. On the other hand, I do often find myself pushed into leadership positions, which I willingly (willingly, not gladly) take on, because I know that I am a competent leader and manager, and that what I commit to gets done. So when I saw this silly little quiz, I thought the results would be interesting, but instead, they are pretty much what I expected.

You Are 40% Control Freak

You have achieved the perfect balance of control and letting go. You tend to roll with whatever life brings, but you never get complacent.

Are You A Control Freak?

Training Readers

Late last night, one of the catechumens in our parish asked what Compline is. I hesitated about answering the question because it wasn't directed to me, but I knew that she is a person who needs "meat", so I went ahead and answered it.

As I was writing, and then rewriting for clarity, I realized that the information I was giving her is really the sort of information that Readers need. We don't seem to do very well with training Readers here in the US. I don't know what they do in Russia or elsewhere, but here, there is really no emphasis on training readers prior to tonsuring. Usually, men get pressed into service at Vespers or another service, and learn by doing. This is very, very valuable, but its not the whole story.

It seems to me that there are two "tracks" -- there are the readers who do just that, read whatever is put in front of them whenever they are told to read. These readers need only to concentrate on producing clearly understood chanting. These may be men, or women, or even children. This is is what most readers do.

The second track requires more in-depth training for future choir directors or men who may be tonsured in the future. These people need more than just vocalizing, pitch matching and fluent reading, they need to begin building up foundational liturgical knowledge. This is what excites me about the Readers Class that my pastor wants me to teach, and I know that by researching and teaching this, I will only improve my own understanding and knowledge. Its a win-win situation!

I also see the need to teach the choir how to read music and sight singing, perhaps using solfege with a moveable do, which is how I pitch the choir anyway, as well as teaching them basic voice placement and production and breathing. I've got a young teen in my choir with a very sweet voice and some musical talent that I would like to help her develop. I think she could grow into choir directing in the future. Also, for many personal reasons, I believe that learning more about music, and directing, would be something very positive for her. I've been thinking about this for a long time, actually. Her father and I spoke at length about her love of music and other things; he agreed 100% with me and gave me his blessing to push her if necessary. If I were to also teach the rudiments of music reading and vocal production at the Reader's Class, then perhaps I could train a Canonarch or two. This would allow us to do antiphonal chanting/singing in our new church, which will be such a joyous sound!!!! It should also be very engaging for the parishioners - I mean, who can go on autopilot and zone out when the verses are joyously bouncing from side to side of the nave??!?

As I was formulating my very brief explanation of Compline last night, I realized that I really need to spend some time on the Readers Services before I begin the Readers Training Class. It would be useful for potential readers to receive outlines of the various services and some understanding of the structure of the various services as well as their historical and cyclical context - especially the future tonsured readers and choir directors.

So, as I was writing, tried to put my answer in context. I'm posting it here so that I don't lose it and can flesh it out more for the Readers Class.

I guess its really a good thing that I'll be unemployed soon, hopefully for a short while, because that gives me time to work all this out and prepare lessons and handouts etc., as well as to work on my iconography.

If only I could pay my bills by doing the things I love -- like preparing this class, teaching it, iconography, etc....


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As the Choir Director and the host for compline this week, I'll take your question on.

We know from the Acts of the Apostles that the early followers of Jesus prayed at certain hours of the day and night. This ancient Jewish custom evolved into the daily cycle of prayer of the Church. This daily cycle of prayer marks the passage of each day and occurs at seven set times, assisting us in fulfilling our Lord's command to pray always and to keep watch with the Church. The appointed times are basically every three hours, beginning at six in the morning and ending around midnight. Each service is called an "hour" no matter how long or short it is. All the hours together keep us engaged constantly in the work of glorifying God.

We follow the ancient Jewish custom of marking the day from sunset to sunset, so the day begins with Vespers at sunset (commonly held around 6 pm); then Compline (the after-dinner prayer) around 9 pm; Nocturns or the Midnight Hour; Matins and the First Hour (the longest service of the day), the Third, Sixth and Ninth Hours (corresponding to nine a.m., noon and three p.m.)

Compline was originally a strictly monastic service, prayed by individual monks alone in their cells, but over the centuries, it took on a communal, public character and evolved into the form we see today. Just like Vespers, there is a lesser form and a greater form, served with or without a priest. I won't confuse you with all the details of the differences between the two - an entire book could be written, and I am no expert. Here at St. Mary's, we pray Little Compline as a Reader's Service (meaning, without a priest) on the Saturdays when Fr. James is in Helena. We've been doing this for a couple of years now.

The basic structure of Little Reader's Compline goes like this: It begins with the Trisagion, or Thrice-Holy prayers; Psalms 50, 69, 142, the Doxology, the Creed, a Canon if specified, the vesperal Stichera of the day, the Thrice-Holy again, ending with the special prayers designated for the day of the week and the dismissal.

Compline will be at 6 pm at my house on Saturday this time around. You are certainly welcome to come. Give me a call on Saturday and let me know if you are coming, and I will give you directions.

Worry-Wort or Pollyanna?

I am really, really worried.

First of all, I'm worried for E's health. She hasn't been well since last January when she caught the GI flu that was going around. She vomited violently for a couple of days in January, and was completely wiped out by it. It took a long time for her to regain any energy at all. Since then, she has had ongoing stomach problems. She tells me that she wakes up nauseous most mornings, but it goes away in a couple of hours. I've told her that maybe its because she's got an upset stomach and she should eat some crackers when she first wakes up, just like for morning sickness, but I don't think that she is taking my advice, at least not regularly. Water tastes bad to her now, so she drinks juice, milk or soy milk. She used to LOVE to have a glass of wine, but now, the mere thought of it is sickening. She doesn't even drink the zapivka at church any more. I can cook with wine and that doesn't affect her, but its weird to pull out a bottle of wine and not have her begging for just a taste. She spends a day in bed being lightheaded and nauseous each month. She doesn't actually vomit then, but she is sick enough that she will have to stay home from school when this happens. Over the last month or so, she's vomited a lot. For her, at least, its a lot. I stayed home from church on Sunday twice in June because she was vomiting, or had vomited during the night. Last Sunday, she suddenly had to vomit at trapeza, barely made it to the ladies room, and then we quickly left. She vomited all the way home, and continued vomiting the rest of the day, and was nauseous on Monday and Tuesday as well. By Wednesday, 7/5, she felt better and was fine until yesterday, Sunday. Yesterday, she was fine until the evening when she vomited again. She doesn't have a fever with all of this. She and I eat almost exactly the same food, so its not food poisoning over and over. She might have some kind of food sensitivity or allergy, so I'm having her keep a food diary for a week or two. I think there may be a psycho-emotional layer to this, since whenever she gets really upset or stressed, she gets an upset stomach. But then again, last night she told me that she doesn't feel particularly stressed right now.

What I'm really worried about is whether the cancer is back or not. If its not stress and its not food allergies, then it must be something more serious. If not cancer, then maybe irritable bowel, Crohns, colitis, gastritis.... pancreatitis has nausea as a sign, I think. I can't remember what else --- its been a long time since I did medical transcription.

I'm worried about her health. I have to make an appt for her to get checked, but not until she gets a week or two of a food diary written down.There is definitely something wrong, though. I pray that its nothing serious, and especially that its not a recurrence of cancer. I'm scared.

My second major worry is that I won't find a job here in low-paying Savannah that pays enough for me to live. I really don't want to move and leave my cheerful little house and the support system I have here, but I would do it for the right job. The funding for my program is ending for sure at the end of August, and I've sent out about 15 resumes in response to known openings, without even a nibble. I'm starting to think about ways to become self employed at this time because well-paying middle-management positions in Savannah are pretty hard to find. I don't want to leave this area because we've been through too much upheaval in our lives as it is, but I would for the right job. I don't think my back will allow me to become a personal chef, so I'll have to figure out something else. I'm very worried.

Deep in my heart, I know that things will work out eventually, because they always do. But still, I'm worried. And I'm tired of always carrying the load. It would be so wonderful to have someone to help carry some of this, but that is not to be. I've never had anyone to help me, so why would someone come along right now? I'll get through this just like I've gotten through everything else - by putting one foot in front of the other and trying to do the right thing. I need prayer. I need to pray for myself. I never do that, but I should. I need to redouble my prayers for my daughter, too. I'm just, I don't know, I'm upset and worried about everything. At least my relationships with others seem to be ok and I don't have to spend my precious peace of mind on anything other than my daughter and my job search. *THAT* is a blessing!

See, there's always SOMETHING!

I'm a jam cookie

You Are a Jam Cookie

On the outside, you project a straight-laced, innocent vibe. But on the inside, you're complex, exotic, and full of flavor.

What Kind of Cookie Are You?

Six Things Meme

In the six things thread, I get to reveal six "unusual or little known" things about myself.

1. I'm not REALLY an only child. Yes, its true that my parents had only one child - me, but I have two sister/cousins, Ethel and Roseanne. See, my grandmother owned a two family house on B St. (later made into a three family house)where she lived with my grandfather, one unmarried daughter (Auntie Nettie), one married daughter and her husband (Auntie Anna and Uncle Harold), two of Auntie Anna's daughters (Roseanne and Terry) and one of Uncle Tony's daughters (Ethel). The family relationships are too convoluted for this post. My parents had an apartment a couple of blocks away when I was born, but I went to Grammies for a few weeks first. I grew up as much in my Grammie's house as I did in my own, sharing a dormitory bedroom with Ethel, Ro, Terry, Grammie and Auntie Nettie. I spent a couple of months in the fall and in the spring living there when my parents were in NH at the Inn and I had to go to school in MA. As Ethel, Ro and Terri had families of their own, they lived in that house as well, and I continued to live there part-time... So, I have the experience of sharing a bed and bedrooms, and putting up with nosy older sisters and nosy younger sisters as well. I may be an only child by birth and maybe even by temperament, but not by experience.

2. I learned early that there is a lot of heartbreak in life. Lots of death, lots of sickness, lots of separation, lots of tragedy. But I also learned early that there is a lot of laughter and joy and love as well. Life is messy, love is messy, and if you can't deal with the messiness of human relationships, you might as well cash in your chips. I learned this early by watching my grandmother cope. She was the coolest lady I know.

3. I used to be fluent in Spanish because I lived in Mexico as a child. Yes, my parents owned Clearwater Inn in Sunapee, NH before I was born, and after I was born, they decided to continue running it in the warm weather, from Memorial Day to Columbus Day basically, and spend the cold weather months in Mexico. So, until I went to school, I wintered in Mexico with them. My mom became fluent in Spanish as well, and my Dad was passable, but couldn't help pronouncing everything as you would in French. Weird.

4. My college career is pretty checkered - I studied everything. Yeah, I picked my college because it was cheap and was directly on an MBTA route so I didn't need a car to get there. I didn't have a clue as to what I wanted to do - the things I enjoyed the most and were best at --- well, I just wasn't good enough to make a career as an artist or a musician. Or so I thought. So I went to Boston State College and aimlessly majored in cafeteria for 2 1/2 semesters, took 2 semesters off, and returned to full time study, year round, for five more years. I took every course that was interesting to me. I majored in French and minored in Spanish, switched to Biology with minors in music and art, then switched to Psychology with minors in music and art. Along the way, I took every course (and then some) needed for majors in English Literature and History except for the senior practicum/project.

5. I am painfully shy and lack a lot of social skills. I have a hard time functioning in front of people - but I do it anyway. I sometimes say that I overcompensate, and I think that's true. Most people do not believe me when I say this, because all they see is the Denise I play, and I play her very, very well - I grew up in a hotel, so I can turn it on and off. But the Denise in real life is quite tentative, emotional, lacks self esteem, is jack of all trades and master of none, and is afraid of failure and rejection.

6. Some little known facts: I love gardenias because they were my grandmother's favorite flower and I always think of her. My wedding bouquet was copied from my mother's in every way, except instead of an orchid, I chose a gardenia in memory of my grandmother. I don't have a favorite color - every color has its own beauty, IMHO. I wish I owned the Inn still - if I ever hit the number, I will buy it back. My mother's ashes are in my closet, just as she and I discussed, and I say good morning and good night in my heart to her every day. My pets: the chihuahuas - Scampie, Dona Bandita (Dona), Dona Carla (Carla); the mutt - Rhett Butler (aka Stupid) who was half long haired dashaund and half beagle; the rescue dog - Charalambos (Harry) the lhasa apso who looked into my eyes at the pound and I fell in love; and my current dog, Puccini (Poochie) the shih tzu who loves me to death. Also the kitten Maybelle Sweet Maybelle, and the guinea pigs Dots and Ginger, as well as E's fish: Dawn and Joanna and the seven beta fish named Michael. I'm afraid of birds, especially when they are flying near me, but I've gotten much better than I used to be. I hate housecleaning. I can't stand country music but I like bluegrass and folk music. I adore opera and classical music. Whenever I look at pretty red shoes, I hear my grandmother saying that only puttanas wear red shoes, so I don't buy them, though I have had a couple of pair of burgundy shoes.... and I don't let my daughter wear them either. My eyes are not really dark brown - they are a golden brown with charcoal gray around the edges, and extra large pupils, so they appear dark, but they aren't. I fit the crunchy granola stereotypes. I love lobster. I'm lazy and a procrastinator.

Funny that I would want to explain myself to who? Who reads this? Why reveal all this stuff? Why just put it out in the universe like this? Why the need to be known by someone, now that Mom is gone? I just miss her so much. I had no idea how intertwined we were until she was gone. I really thought that it would get better, this yearning for her, but it hasn't. And now I yearn for my father as well, since only his body remains, but most everything that makes him himself is gone.

An Orthodox Meme

1. My saint is the Theotokos. I didn't choose her - she chose me. When my mother was pregnant with me, she didn't have any girl names, and when I was born, she said, "I finally have my Denise Marie." And so she did. When I finally took the plunge and converted to Orthodoxy, Fr. John didn't even ask me if I wanted a patron saint - he used Mary since that was already my name. But over the years, I have found that the Theotokos is a never ending source of inspiration and love for me. Her "Yes!", though God's plan was incomprehensible to her, is something I try to emulate, with profoundly sad success. I need to understand. Everything. All the time. But I keep trying to be more like her, though I fail miserably. And now that my mother is dead, I have no other mother to turn to. Unto the Mother of God, let us sinners and humble ones now diligently have recourse, and let us bow down in penitence, exclaiming from the depths of our souls: O Sovereign Lady! Help us, having compassion on us. Show zeal for we perish with the multitude of our sins. Turn not thy servants away empty, for we have thee as our only hope! Painting the Platytera for St. Nicholas Church was one of the most profound spiritual experiences, very intense - so intense that I couldn't work at it steadily.

2. St. Elizabeth the mother of John the Baptist - I also longed for a child for many years. I used to pray that she would somehow convince God to give me a miracle baby. And He did. I named her Elizabeth.

3. St. John of Shanghai and San Francisco - some people question whether he was a saint or not, and whether he was incorrupt or not, but I don't. I know people who knew him and don't think much of him, and some who think a lot of him. I guess his personal hygiene put a lot of people off... but all I know is that when I visited his tomb, I had the most profound experience of what I believe to be holiness that I have ever had. I went there specifically to pray for a baby. One month later, I was pregnant - a miracle pregnancy. I am forever grateful to him, because I have absolutely no doubt in my mind that he interceeded for me.

4. St. Joseph the Betrothed - this is my father's Christian name, and all nice French boys have Joseph as a middle name. But its not just love for my own father that makes me love St. Joseph - its the tender duty of faithfully providing a home for the Theotokos and Jesus - everything that a man and a father should be. Like my father.

5. St. Sophia with her Three Holy Children, St. Sophia of the Never-Ending Cup and St. Sophia the Mother of Orphans - Sophia means Wisdom, and I wanted to name my daughter Sophia. It's still my most favorite name. But its not the beauty of the name or how it rolls off my tongue that makes these saints so special to me - its the different ways that they manifested wisdom in their lives that speak to me. I hope I never have to defend my faith, but if I do, I hope I can urge my daughter to defend it as faithfully. I hope that I, too, can wisely husband my resources and provide limitless hospitality and love to those who desperately need it. I hope that I can provide a safe haven for not only my daughter, but for everyone who comes through my door. I took St. Sophia as our homeschool's patron saint because if you have wisdom, you have everything.

6. I have a great respect and fondness for the hymnographer saints, particularly St. Romanos the Melodist and St. Ephraim the Syrian. I'm still learning about some of the others, but I have to say that my life mirrors St. Romanos' life. I also could'nt sing a note and people would ask me to stop singing because I stunk so bad. But one day, I was asked to join a church choir just because the director couldn't stand to have a peanut gallery during rehearsals, and shortly thereafter, my voice began to improve. Suddenly, I was a good singer. It was a miracle, truly, because if you had heard me before....... blech.

7. Blessed Maria Skobtsova - She is a saint for our times, a worldly, cultured, educated woman who led a normal life in an extraordinary way, in times that were far from ordinary. She kept her focus on the one thing needful, and let everything else go by the wayside. This has caused some people to feel she isn't "holy" or "Orthodox" enough, but she is a real inspiration for me. She did what needed doing, at great cost to herself, even to losing her life, and she did it all because she saw the image of God in everyone. I wish I could get past people's .... peoples SELVES enough to see God in everyone.

8. Whatever saint I am currently researching for an icon. When I am painting, I feel such love and closeness to the saint, and I pray that he or she will find my meager offering acceptable and will guide my hand. Currently, I'm working on St. Melangell of Wales and St. Genevieve of Paris. When these are done, I'll go on to St. Christina of Tyre for the mission in Fremont and then maybe St. Thekla for myself.

Goodbye, dear Cousin

Yesterday, Sheila sent out an email that intimated that Kathy has very little time left. It was a tough day at work after finding out that for SURE that I'm losing my funding, and as I was driving back to work after lunch, I really needed to touch home, so I called Roseanne and left a message. When she called me back, we talked about a lot of things, mostly Kathy and Mothers Day, and how scary it was, especially for her at 70, that her peers were dying. I was struck with a real, palpable terror of her and Ethel dying, almost as much as when I would think of my mother dying. I was melancholy all day, and wanted to sleep.

When I checked my email when I got home from I Cantori late last night, I got an email from Sheila saying that Kathy had died minutes before, and there was a beautiful picture of her and Joe as preschoolers, with his arm around her. That's how they were throughout their life, weren't they? They were so close. She followed him pretty much everywhere he went throughout her life.

Now that I've watched my mother die, and have lived without her for more than a year, my heart is broken for Sheila, Nicky and Kathleen. And also for June, Maryann and Emily. The alone-ness and forever of death is such a constant ache. It never goes away. Never.

In America, when we talk about cousins, they are sort of on the periphery of our adult lives. But what I've learned, since I'm one of the few who has moved away from Cieri epicenter, is that time and space don't affect the love, the complete comfort and acceptance, the shared history, the remembrance of times and places and people long past. Now is forever tied together with yesterday in the person of cousins.

Who else remembers Kathy as a young teen? I do. As a candystriper spending long hours at my mother's bedside after her first surgery. As a shapely teen working at our inn together with Ethel and Terry. What a summer that was! So many memories of NH and Uncle Nicky and Joe and Kathy with us, the B Street group.

But what I need to say about Kathy right now, just hours after she has gone on to become her true self in heaven, is that she was only ten years older than me, but she is the only person in my life, including my parents, who took an active interest in my spiritual life. Even when I was about 10 or 12, before I started my major questioning and spiritual searching, she must have recognized something in me, and talked with me about God and her experience of Him, and she took me into her home a number of times so that I experience worship in a more engaging way. And she did this when the rest of the family was incredulous that she and Joe Boy had found religion at all -- the two sinners par excellence - one just a bad, worldly boy, and the other a crunchy granola type before it was fashionable - and everyone denigrated their lifestyle choices. But she was brave enough to either not care, or just bear it, and take a particular interest in me, a snotty, know it all, agnostic kid, and try to guide me towards God. No one else spent any energy on my spiritual life and my relationship with God. Just Kathy.

I'm not sure why she did that, except that we are family, and she loved me. She certainly did love my mother, and my mother always, always had Kathy in a special place in her heart, and was always, always grateful to her for her care of my grandmother and her care of her. And maybe some of that spilled over onto me.

I always thought that Kathy was beautiful. And when she lost her hair and was bald last year, I thought she was really, really beautiful. She always had lovely eyes and a beautiful smile. I didn't care that her lifestyle was different. I don't think anyone else did either, though we never spoke about it. I never cared that she became a charismatic Catholic, though the spontaneous prayer thing makes me very uncomfortable. Everyone else thought her lifestyle was a little weird, up there in Weare in a log home.... but I loved her home.

So, now, Kathy and Joe are together again, with so many other loved ones. I wonder if, when we die, we recognize each other in our transformed state? The urge to love flesh and blood family is so unquenchable - can it survive the presence of God? Does it just drop away in the bliss of being in God's presence? God, I hope not. I can't imagine that the terrible pain of separation would not be healed by the comfort of being together again in Heaven. But a joyous family reunion would take our eyes off the throne, wouldn't it? No matter what I personally choose to believe and choose to hope for, it won't be the reality of death and heaven. The only thing we mortals know for CERTAIN is that death will bring us to judgement and to reunion with God, and that will be such a joyous thing that everything and everyone else pales in comparison. It is beyond our human understanding.

But a void in me still hopes to be filled with a reunion with my loved ones. And today I have to add my cousin Kathy to that ever-growing roster. I hate it. Death sucks. When I meet Kathy again in heaven, she will say to me, "See honey? I *told* you God was real!"

Things I wish I could do over

1. I wish I could relive the last day of my mother's life. I regret leaving her for half an hour so very much.

2. I wish I had gone right up to my grandmother's coffin and kissed her goodbye when I was 15 years old

3. I wish I hadn't married who I did

4. I wish I had worked harder at truly learning instead of coasting through school

5. I wish I hadn't been so hot to get married and had continued as an undergraduate through the spring semester, or maybe even the summer semester, so I could have graduated with a triple major

6. I wish I had gone to graduate school

7. I wish I had gone to Mass College of Art or NE Conservatory as I wanted to

8. I wish I hadn't given up my career in human resources and hospital administration to move to CA in 1980. By now, I would be running a large hospital and making beaucoup bucks

9. I wish that I didn't grow up during the days of sex, drugs and rock and roll

10. I wish that I had kept my virginity until I married

11. I wish that I had taken my mother to the tea house for her last mother's day

12. I wish that I told my godmother how much I loved her before she died, but I'm so glad that I didn't make that mistake twice and told my other auntie over and over

13. I wish I had left my husband after the honeymoon - I knew that we were mismatched on the honeymoon and wish I had enough guts to just cut my losses right then, at the beginning

14. I wish I could relive just that one special day - I know the one I mean. I keep it in my heart and pull it out when I need to.

15. I wish that I had gotten therapy when I was going through infertility. That's when I began to change and lose my self esteem and self discipline

16. I wish I had gotten intensive therapy when dd was going through chemo and afterward, because maybe I could have coped better and not have thrown my husband out, but I'm not sorry that I ended the marriage. Not one little bit. I should have done it after the honeymoon, such as it was.

17. I wish I was different. I wish I had a true gift in something so that I could more easily focus on one thing, and then I'd have direction. I've been floating and flapping around all my life because I can't settle on one thing

18. I wish I hadn't settled. I keep telling dd - don't "settle" - hold out for what you really want. Its better to do without than to have something that is not what you want. Don't settle for something that is "good enough" - do without until you can get what you want.

19. I wish I had had higher standards for myself, in every aspect of my life, when I was young

20. I wish I had applied for scholarships and gone to a good college. I had amazingly high SATs - 1490 - and I could have gotten in pretty much anywhere I applied, but I didn't even apply. Why is that? Fear of failure? Thinking small? My mother's influence? I should have just gone for it.

21. I wish I had kept up the french horn

22. I wish I had taken piano lessons as a child and young adult

23 I wish I had kept up my french

24 I wish I had talked with my oldest friend, K, one last time before he died to make sure that he knew I loved him

25 I wish I could relive that afternoon a few weeks before Grammie died, when it was just her and me watching TV and she hugged me so hard and said, "You love your old Grammie don't you?" and I was just a stupid kid and didin't know what to say back - I said something inane instead of taking the opportunity to tell her how much I loved her, and how much I admired her.

26. I wish I could take back the whole Ernest and Samantha friendship, as well as the Cat and Thom friendship. They were so much fun, but they were bad for me and I knew it, but it was too much fun to give up

27. I wish that I could go back in time and told Memiere and Pepiere that I really did love them, and that it took me until I was an adult to understand that there is more than one way to love, and that the noisy, messy Italian way of loving is not the only way, and that the reserved and quiet New England way is just as deep. I didn't know that as a child but I do now, and I wish I could tell them that I understand them now in a way that I couldn't then, and that I love them.

28. I wish I could relive that camping trip B and I took with dd. That was the kind of life I wanted to have as a family. I carry mental snapshots of that trip in my heart.

29. I wish that I had told my former pastor no when he asked me to be a godmother. But I was prideful and flattered when he talked to me as an equal minister about her needs and prideful enough to think that I could help her.

30. I wish that I could relive Dr. Guidice's phone call to me, telling me that I was finally pregnant. That was a good day.

31. I wish that I could relive 7/14/93 through 7/14/97. Its a long series of heartaches and bad choices. Maybe I could do it better now.

32. I wish I could relive the last two years of my mother's life - maybe not relive it, argh! it was horrible! But I wish I could do parts of it over. I wish I had had more patience and had been more understanding of the pressure my mother was under. Conversely, I wish I had spoken up more and not allowed her to talk to my Dad the way that she did.... It was a bad situation all around and neither of them should have had to go through that at the end of their lives. What a sucky way to end your life together, after 59 years, too. If I could do it over, maybe I could find the right balance this time around.

33. I wish I had never gotten hooked on Mr. Moonpie. I wish I hadn't been taken in by his moonpie eyes. He gave me just enough to keep me hanging on and hoping and I got so entangled that I missed out on living an authentic life and maybe even meeting a nice man. I wish he had never kissed me, or taken me out. I wish I had never settled for the crumbs he gave me, keeping me on a string. He took up five years of my life - I should never have allowed that to happen. I wish I could do that over.

34. I wish I could redo my last haircut. I hate it. With a passion.

Meme Time

Another meme sent to me by my blogger friend, Susan. I just love these things!

Video Games I Play: Mah jongg

Television Favorite Shows: Sell This House, Giada DiLaurentiis, Michael Chiarello, Ina Garten, Alton Brown, Sell this House, Clean House, McLeod's Daughters, Monarch of the Glen, Sopranos, Big Love

Favorite Channels: HBO, FoodNetwork, HGTV, Bravo, A&E, BBC America, WE

Favorite Reruns: Everybody Loves Raymond, Will and Grace, Vicar of Dibley, Third Rock from the Sun

Most Addictive Show: Clean House, Vicar of Dibley

Favorite Late Night Talk Show: I'm still mourning Johnny Carson. I'd rather read late at night

Show I Secretly Watch: Soap Network

Where I shop: Online

I like to wear: Jeans, no bra, no shoes

Can't live without: Internet!

Favorite Music Artists: The Pretenders, King Crimson, Renee Fleming, Meatloaf, Tim Curry, Maria Callas, Placido Domingo, YoYo Ma, Fr. John Platko, Rosemary Clooney

Favorite Genre: Opera, show tunes, Orthodox Music, Russian romantic music, classic rock, classical, some alternative, some pop. Hate country - ewww! But, I do like folk and old time bluegrass music, which is VERY different from the modern icky modern country top 40

Favorite Songs: Respondez a ma tendresses, Rachmaninov's Rejoice O Virgin, Arkhangelsky's Unto the Mother of God, Chain Gang, I'm a Mother, I Can Make You a Man, I Go to Sleep, 2000 Miles, An Ordinary Couple, Other Pleasures, My Man.

Songs I hate: Anything rap. Anything where you can't hear the words,either because the person is whispering instead of singing, or because the beat and/or the background music is too loud. Folks don't know how to mix music anymore.

Guilty Pleasure: Barbra Streisand!

Favorite Movies: Moonstruck, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, The Sound of Music, The Quiet Man, Amelie, The Mask of Zorro

Favorite Actors: Antonio Banderas, Clark Gable, Susan Hayward, Armand Assante, Deborah Kerr, Johnny Depp

Favorite Directors: I don't know

Favorite Genre: I want to be entertained, not beat over the head with a social message. So, mostly romance and comedy

Favorite Soundtracks: Anything Rogers and Hammerstein like the Sound of Music, South Pacific, Oklahoma, Carousel... and then theres Rocky Horror Picture Show! Oh yes, "toucha toucha toucha me - I wanna be dirty!"

Movie Quotes I say all the time:
Look at my hand! You have YOUR hand, you have YOUR girl. What about MY hand? What about MY girl?
Who's dead?
The man may be the head, but the woman is the neck, and the neck can turn the head anyway it wants

Movies I can watch over and over: See my favorite movies - also, anything with Clark Gable or John Wayne

Actor that would play me in a movie: Dawn French is who would be cast, but I think of myself more like a young Elizabeth Taylor, actually. LOL - I bet others would think of me more like Rosalind Russell! I could do worse!

Favorite Cuisine: Well, anything but Southern. I'm not sure that dead, grey vegetables, lard, cool whip, sliced bananas in vanilla pudding and mayonnaise equal a cuisine. I guess I'd have to say: Mediterranean and Asian cuisines

Favorite Dishes: too many to list really. But lobster and chocolate.

Favorite Desserts: anything chocolate

Favorite Drinks: good coffee with cream, no sugar, or a splash of liqueur

Favorite Junk Foods: McDonald's fries

My Original Recipes: Everything I cook is original because I tinker with everything. Its been hard to actually write stuff down and give precise directions and measurements on my food blog

Favorite Restaurants: The Union Oyster House, No Name in Boston; The Stinking Rose and Jacques and anything in China Town in San Francisco

Foods I hate: pickled herring in sour cream. What a waste of sour cream!

High School Name: Everett High

Status: graduated

Class of: 1973

Attended: 1970 - 1973, grades 10, 11, and 12

Sports: LOL! But I used to be a like a fish in the water and I like to watch figure skating on tv

Organizations: Anti Environmental Pollution Committee, marching band, stage band, concert band, drama club, student government, National Honor Society

Religion: Eastern Orthodox

Interests: Raising my daughter, reading, cooking, needlework, iconography, my new food blog, water colors, travel, getting a new job!

Expertise: very competent jack of all trades, but master of none.

Occupation: mother, choir director, singer, artist, manager

Roseanne

I talked with my cousin Roseanne the other day. She had a wonderful birthday...she told me that she turned 70. I can't believe it - in my mind, when I think of her, I see her as a young woman in her mid-20s, when I was a child. When I look at her photo, as I am right now, I see that she's aged some, but she looks pretty damn good for someone who is 70 years old, and she is still just as beautiful as she was when I was little.

Roseanne was 19 years old when I was born, and in many respects, I'm more her child than her cousin. She and I have always, always had a very special relationship, a closer relationship than is usual, even for our family with its intergenerational tangled web of love.

When my mother and I came home from the hospital on September 23, 1955, my parent's 10th wedding anniversary, we didnt' go home to our apartment on Marie Ave, but instead, came home to my grandmother's house - the Catalano family headquarters, as it were - on B Street, and from that day onward, there I was mothered and petted and cheered and spanked and hugged and fed in every possible way by the women of the family: Grammie, my nanas - Auntie Anna and Auntie Nettie, Roseanne, Terry and Ethel.

But Roseanne was special. She and I just loved each other so much - that's all there is to it. We are both pretty emotional people and we always have to cry for the first few minutes of every phone call.

Let me list some memories of Roseanne: She was so very beautiful, stunningly beautiful. She looked a lot like Natalie Wood, and cars would slow down to look at her on the street. She was lots of fun and laughed a lot. She and her girlfriends were kind of mischievous and skipped a lot of school, but now, at 70, they are still tight. I wish I had friends like that. But Roseanne does, and thats because she knows how to love people. Its just a gift - some people have it. Our grandmother had it, and Roseanne does too.

Ro is also endlessly supportive, no matter what it is that you are involved in. Even when she disagrees with me (and that has happened a lot in my life), she still loves me and cares for my wellbeing. Even when she is wrong, and that has happened as well, the love and care is still there.

Ro is a funny person in some ways - she is intensely private and also very open, at the same time. It took until I was more than 40 years old for her to talk to me about her childhood, when her father died, and her feelings of abandonment. On the other hand,I know that she feels things deeply and speaking is difficult when your throat is closed from the tears.

I remember Ro ironing my taffeta dresses so I'd look nice in the school photos. She used to give me Little Miss Tonette perms when I was kid, and sometimes she'd cut my hair. Blood and guts don't faze her - and she's removed countless splinters, and patched me up a million times. She and Terry taught me to fight so that I could defend myself in the schoolyard. She helped me practice my lines for plays and assemblies when I was in school.

Roseanne always had very elegant taste and wore beautiful and expensive clothing. I remember sitting on the bed and watching her get ready to go out. I used to think of her as a princess... as soon as she was gone, I used to try her clothes on, put her lipstick (always a shade of peach) on, and wear her shoes. She had beautiful, high heeled shoes. Unfortunately, I wore orthopedic shoes, and they were knotted on so I'd put her shoes on right over mine.... and once they got stuck - I couldn't get her shoes off my feet and those gorgeous spike heels had to be cut off.... Man, was she mad! But not for long - that's one thing about Roseanne. If she has something to tell you, she will, and she won't beat around the bush. She can be very direct, and she does have a temper. But then, its over. She doesn't hold grudges, and she doesn't stay mad for long.

Sometimes we'd go in Jerry's convertible to the beach to get clams or ice cream, just her and me. She had a few miscarriages after they married, so I didn't have to share my place in her heart with anyone for a while, and sometimes we'd go places. I used to like to go shopping with her, just to see the beautiful clothing and to spray the fine perfumes all over my plump 10 year old body.

She was also pretty unshakeable as a mother. When Joseph Michael would stop breathing, she'd just move him around and pat his back and talk nice to him: "Now Joseph, breathe for mama now. Come on and breathe for mama." And he always did - who could resist her? There isn't a male alive who could resist her. Another mother would have freaked out, but Roseanne just dealt with the situation.

Ro is also a great cook. I had dreams that I was eating her steak pizzaiola this past winter and had to call her up for the recipe. Man, was it good.

I just love her so much. No matter what was going on her life, she made time for me and made me feel smart and special. And I was special to her. Some kids never get that from anyone.... I'm very lucky to have her. My life would be so much poorer without her.

I can't believe that she is 70. I'm looking at the picture of her, me and Ethel, and I can't believe that she is 70. And I can't believe that just the three of us are left to remember what it was like when Grammie and Grampie were alive... the garden in Miss Boutelier's yard, the old cottage, the summer kitchen in the cellar, the concord grape vine growing up the tree, the peach tree in the front yard where the door to the cellar apartment is now, the roses on the front stoop... The old green kitchen, the garland stove, the smell of the Easter baking, the pasta drying on floured sheets on every flat surface of the house... Just the three of us to remember.

I love my cousin Roseanne so very, very much - I don't have words to express it. I hope she knows.

50 Things I'm Grateful For

1. My daughter is healthy and her cancer has been in remission since 1992.

2. My father still recognizes me.

3. A long life with my most beloved mother from whom I learned so much and who I miss so much.

4. Ethel and Roseanne

5. The B St. kids who are kids no longer

6. That time and space and even death do not change love.

7. The smell of my Grammie's gravy cooking, and all the wonderful memories it evokes... what a wonderful life I've had!

8. An adventurous and well rounded childhood, full of exciting experiences, lots of travel, and meeting many different kinds of people

9. That my daughter has grown into a kind, loving, sentimental, but still strong and don't take no shit young woman.

10. Fr. James. The one man I've met who is not overpowered by me and always, always has the guts to tell me the truth. And I can be pretty scary to men.... Yes, I am VERY thankful for Fr. James.

11. for having found Orthodoxy at a relatively young age, because it takes so long for it to really penetrate and I'm kind of dense about some things....

12. "Beautiful" perfume and "Noa" perfume

13. That crayola still makes boxes of 64 crayons.

14. Puppies, especially my current canine, Puccini

15. The ability to learn how to do stuff from research. The love of research. This has served me very well in my various careers and avocations. And I LOVE learning new things.

16. Learning to swim when I was a baby.

17. That God made lobsters

18. That I know from experience that every cloud truly does have a silver lining.

19. For my ex-husband, who not only gave me the most wonderful daughter, but who has resisted becoming adversarial for her sake, and now is a very good friend. Who would ever have thought it could happen like that?

20. For a loving family, though I miss them so much: Gram and Grampie, Auntie Anna, Auntie Nettie, Uncle Tony, Uncle Joey, Uncle Nicky, George, Jerry, Memiere and Pepiere. Especially Grammie. I'm grateful for Grammie from whom I learned so very much... She was a real character. A real woman. I should be so strong. No matter what life threw her way, she survived with her humor intact. When I grow up, I want to be just like her.

21. Lake Sunapee, NH. San Francisco, CA. Boston, MA. Quebec City.

22. That I'm liberal in the truest meaning of the word.

23. For music and art and all the things that make life beautiful

24. The special quality of sunlight in the early morning

25. Mountains and lakes and rivers

26. Babies after a bath. I love to nibble them!

27. Fishing.... nothing like doing nothing on the water all day....

28. My Vita Mix and my french press coffee pot. Yes, and coffee too!

29. Long drives all by myself

30. Silence - its a good thing!

31. Birch trees. Gardenias. Jonquils. Irises.

32. Tomatoes right off the plant.

33. My pillow. I love my pillow.

34. Guadalupe.

35. My dearest friends: Ellen, Cindy and Joan. They are my family as much as my real family.

36. Freshly laundered sheets

37. Having had the opportunity to love a man deeply

38. That there is always tomorrow. Which is when Scarlett and I will think about it.

39. Internet and email. I am DEEPLY, DEEPLY thankful for internet and email. Deeply.

40. That I still have a couple more careers left in me.

41. That my family lives long, because I am just not taking care of myself the way I should. I'm relying on good genes to carry me through right now...

42. That I never got into drugs or alcohol much when I was younger

43. Jussi Bjorling; Placido Domingo; Chrissie Hynde; Eric Clapton, guitars, harps, flutes, french horns, pianos.... and my most favorite instrument - the human voice

44. I am thankful that I was exposed to opera and classical music as a young child, because I really love them both.

45. I am grateful that when I was 12 years old, on the very last day, my mother finally signed the permission slip so that I could learn the baritone, which allowed me to learn to read music, and as they say, the rest is history

46. Palm Sunday, 1976, St. George Antiochian church choir under the direction of Dean Limberakis, singing a capella (meaning, "of the church") in the gymnasium at Holy Cross Seminary, Boston MA. I fell in love that day, and I have never fallen out of it.

47. That Jarrett Higgins gave me real artists oil paints and took my artistic leanings seriously when I was 10 years old.

48. That Miss Evelyn Murphy, my shorthand teacher in high school, told me that she thought I could do ANYTHING. No one before or since has ever said that to me, and I treasure it in my heart.

49. My new little house - it is so cheerful.... it makes me happy. It doesn't drag me down. Surrounding truly do count.

50. and my number one, most important thing that I am most grateful for: That God has given a wonderful daughter to love. The experience of mothering this particular child has been the most awesome (and I do truly mean, full of awe) experience.... far more than I could ever, ever imagine.

Missing Bea Cieri

I can't even begin to express how much I miss my mother right now. Mothers have an almost mystical quality of safety and love... my mother did, anyway. I talked with Fr. James and he is soooo understanding and honest with me. I value that so much and I don't think I've ever told him how much he has helped me. I don't think I could have gotten through the last year of my mother's life without knowing that I could count on him to tell me truth and to understand.

But he's not my mother. Right now, I just want to lay my head on my mother's shoulder and have her put her arms around me and tell me that everything will be ok. That is not to be. That can never happen again.

Sometimes I think the aloneness and the forever of it all is just too much to bear. And I think it adds to the emotional twisting and turning that I do. Fr. James said that emotions don't mean shit and I know he's right. Its what you DO that matters. But emotions are powerful and you have to allow them to run their course without keeping them going. If you don't allow yourself to FEEL what you are feeling, then you are not living.

And the desire to be known by another is so strong that it surprises me. I didn't feel that way with my husband... but I feel that way now. Why is that? There is no one person that I want to know me, and there certainly is no romantic interest in my life...its not a romantic thing at all.

I think part of why I miss my mother so much is that she is the other. She is the one who knows me, good and bad, and accepted both. Without her, I'm just fluttering in the breeze, hanging on by a thread. Without her to reflect me to me, I don't know what I am. I am lost.

I know intellectually that God knows me and loves me. I know that he has counted the hairs on my head. I know and believe that if he can care for a sparrow, he will care for me. I know that my pastor knows much about me. I know that he accepts me as I am and wants me to grow and mature. I know that he speaks truth to me. I know that I have a wonderful daughter who is far more mature about human frailty that most adults I know. She loves me and emulates me, even in my weaknessess. She knows me intimately because I have allowed her to see into my heart a few times this past year.

But I still miss my mother and that she knew me best. And I knew her best as well. The give and take of knowing and being known is gone now. Its such a loss. Such a loss. And when things happen between myself and others, like with some people I know at church, now I have no anchor to keep me stable, so I'm just fluttering around, a big gaping wound. This can't be healthy.

But I really don't know how to sooth myself... I don't really don't know how to provide that safe haven for myself that my mother was. I pray, not the way I should, but I do pray. And I really trust that God is true and that He is intimately involved in my life. But he's not my mother.

Times like this is when the loss is so fresh. I guess as time goes on, these moments will become fewer, with longer periods in between... at least that's what others have told me. I just have to wait it out. And trusts that God's plan is a good plan and that he is burning off that which is not needed. Just have to wait it out. That's all.

Two Quotes and a Recipe

We must always have old memories and young hopes.

~ Arsen Houssay ~

"The fidelity of a dog is a precious gift demanding no less binding moral responsibilities than the friendship of a human being."

~ Anonymous ~

Tangy Olive Dressing

1 cup ripe green olives, drained and packed

1/2 cup fresh lemon juice

1/2 cup water

1 tsp salt

2 cloves fresh garlic

Liquefy all ingredients. Add herbs of your choice for taste. Ripe green olives are best.

Yield: 1 3/4 cup

From Unseen Warfare

"Each affliction has its own peculiarities and each requires its own
remedies; but I speak now about them in general, having in view their
common quality-to trouble and agitate the soul, and having in mind a
general remedy against them. This remedy is faith in the good
Providence, which arranges the course of our life with all its
accidental happenings, for the good of each of us, and a serene
compliance with God's will, expressed in our attitude, in accordance
with which we call from the bottom of our heart: Let God's will be
done! As the Lord wills, so let it be, and be for our good."

St. Theophan the Recluse and St. Nikodemos of the Holy Mountain, ch
27, Unseen Warfare (SVS Press, 1987/2000), p 155

This Came From Me

You know, I get so worked up about the some people I know ... its because their arrows (and there are many arrows sent my way) hit a tender spot. I was reading today and found this essay which has really made me feel tranquil and not wanting to strike back in some way.

===================================

The Following Testament circulated widely in the Russian emigration during WWII, and came to us in America with the ever-memorable Archbishop John (Shahovskoy) who received it when he was Rector of the Russian Church on Nachodstrasse in Berlin. Not until the recent publication of the life of our Venerable Father Seraphim of Vyritsa was it attributed to one individual. Those who knew Staretz Seraphim believe it was written by him and addressed to an imprisoned hierarch.



This Came from Me

Did you ever realize that whatever concerns you concerns Me too? For what concerns you concerns the apple of My eye. You are dear in My sight, of great value, and you are My beloved; therefore, bringing you up is a task close to My heart. When trials confront you, if the enemy is approaching like a river, I want you to know that THIS CAME FROM ME, so that your frailty would be in need of My strength and that your security would be confined to your giving Me the possibility to fight for you.

Do you find yourself in difficult circumstances among people who don’t understand you, who have no consideration for what you like and don’t like, who push you aside? THIS CAME FROM ME. I am God, and I have arranged your circumstances. You didn’t find yourself by chance in your present situation: this is the situation I predetermined for you.

Didn’t you ask Me to teach you humility? I’ve immediately put you in that school where such a course is taught. Your surroundings and those living with you are fulfilling My will.

Do you find yourself in financial difficulties? Is it hard to make ends meet? THIS CAME FROM ME. I outfitted your purse. I want you to run to Me and be dependent on Me. My riches are inexhaustible; I want you to be certain of My faithfulness and My promises—so that you would not be able to say to yourself when in need, “You didn’t trust the Lord your God.”

Are you undergoing a night of sorrowing? THIS CAME FROM ME. I am the Man of sorrows, acquainted with grief. I allowed this so that you would turn to Me and could find everlasting comfort.

Were you let down by a friend to whom you had opened your heart about something? THIS CAME FROM ME. I arranged this disappointment for you so you would get to know that your best friend is the Lord. I want you to bring everything to Me and to trust Me.

Did someone slander you? Leave this matter to Me and cling more tightly to Me, your refuge. I will bring forth your righteousness as the light and your judgment as the noonday.

Were your plans wrecked? Are you wilted and tired in your soul? THIS CAME FROM ME. You put together your plans and brought them to Me to be blessed by Me. But I want you to leave it to Me to arrange your circumstances, and then the responsibility for everything will lie with me...for this is a little too much for you: you can’t fix everything yourself; you are an
instrument, not the main character.

Have you dreamt of doing something special for Me and, instead of that, found yourself lying in bed sick and weak? THIS CAME FROM ME. When you were buried in your work I couldn’t attract your thought to me, and I want you to be taught My deepest thoughts and your work to be about Me. I want you to learn to acknowledge that you are nothing. Some of My best coworkers are those who were cut off from outer activity in order for them to learn to be masters of unceasing prayer.

Have you been called upon to occupy a difficult and responsible position? Come, relying on Me. I entrust this difficulty to you. For this the Lord God blesses you in all your doings, in everything done by the labor of your hands. On that day I will give into your hands that vessel of holy Oil—My blessings:

use it freely, My child. Let every difficulty that comes up, every insulting word, every obstacle in your work that might give rise to feelings of disappointment in you, every revelation of your own impotence and incapability be anointed with that Oil. Remember that every obstacle is a Divine exhortation. Every sting becomes weak if you have been taught to see Me in everything that concerns you. Therefore, store up in your heart every word that I have made known to you today. I am not
giving you something empty, this is your life.”

My Love Language

The Five Love Languages
My primary love language is probably
Physical Touch
with a secondary love language being
Quality Time.


Complete set of results
Physical Touch: 12
Quality Time: 9
Words of Affirmation: 5
Acts of Service: 4
Receiving Gifts: 0



Information
Unhappiness in relationships, according to Dr. Gary Chapman, is often due to the fact that we speak different love languages. Sometimes we don't understand our partner's requirements, or even our own. We all have a "love tank" that needs to be filled in order for us to express love to others, but there are different means by which our tank can be filled, and there are different ways that we can express love to others.

Today is Mom's Birthday

Today, my mother would have been 87 years old. I miss her. There is a sudden sharp pain I feel every morning when I wake up and remember she is dead. The pain is never ending, but at least I don't cry as much.

KEEP MY MEMORY
(Unknown poet)

Keep my memory with you,
For memories never die
I will be there with you,
When you look across the sky.

I will be there in the clouds,
In the birds that fill the air;
In the beauty of a fragrant rose,
You will find my memory there.

You will feel me in the tenderness,
Of a tiny baby's touch;
You will hear me if you listen,
In the twilight's gentle hush.

When your hearts are heavy,
And you feel that you are alone;
Just reach down deep inside of you,
For your heart is now my home.

I will always be with you,
I will never go away;
For I will live on in your hearts,
Forever and a day.

What I'm Reading Now

Make me whole, O Lord, and I will become whole! O only wise and merciful Physician, I beseech Thy benevolence: heal the wounds of my soul and enlighten the eyes of my mind that I may understand my place in Thine eternal design! And inasmuch as my heart and mind have been disfigured, may Thy grace repair them, for it is as true salt.
What shall I say to Thee, O Knower of the heart who searchest the heart and the inner workings of men? Indeed, Thou knowest that, like a waterless land, my soul thirsts after Thee and my heart longs for Thee. And Thy grace has always sated those that love Thee. Thus, as Thou hast always heard me, so now do not scorn my prayer. For Thou seest that my mind, like a prisoner, seeks Thee, the Only true Savior.
Send Thy grace, that it may satisfy my hunger and quench my thirst. For insatiably do I desire Thee, O my Master! And who can have enough of Thee if he truly loves Thee and thirsts for Thy truth?
O Giver of light! Fulfill my supplications and grant me Thy gifts according to my prayer; impart to my heart just one drop of Thy grace, that the flame of Thy love may begin to burn in my heart; and, like a fire, may it consume evil thoughts like thorns and thistles!
Give me all this in abundance; grant it to me as God unto man, as the King to His subjects, and increase it as a kind Father.

St. Ephrem the Syrian
======================================================
I DARE NOT DO SO MYSELF: PRAY FOR ME, O YE SAINTS

Who will not lament for me, who have renounced the eternal kingdom for the sake of meagre pleasures, ignoring the eternal fire? Having surrendered myself to the passions, I have destroyed the integrity of my soul and become like the unreasoning beasts.
At one time I found myself rich with gifts, but now I have come to love the poverty of the passions. I have become a stranger to the virtues and departed for the distant land of corruption. I am half dead; I have only a tiny remnant of life in me.
Because I am this way by mine own free choice, I cannot even raise mine eyes to the kindhearted Lord.
Lament, O blessed and righteous ones, for me who am caught in the embrace of passions and sin.
Lament, O ascetics, for me who am a glutton and voluptuary.
Lament, O merciful and condescending ones, for me who am hardhearted and cause much grief.
Lament, O God-pleasers, for me who strive to please men.
Lament, O ye who have attained meekness, for me who am irritable and wrathful.
Lament, O humble ones, for me who am pompous and arrogant.
Lament, O ye who have attained the non acquisitiveness of the apostles, for me who, burdened by my love for possessions, cling to material things.
Lament, O ye who have loved lamentation and hated laughter, for me who have loved laughter and hated lamentation.
Lament, ye who contemplate the judgement that will come after death, for me who affirm that I remember the judgement but act to the contrary.
Pray, O saints of God, for my soul which is convulsed by all manner of passions.
Inasmuch as you are able, help me, O saints of God. For I know that if you beseech God, the Lover of mankind, all will be granted you from the sea of His kindness. And, like our man-befriending God, so also when I, a sinner, beseech you, do not despise my supplication; for I have not the boldness to pray to Him myself because of the multitude of my sins.
Your role it is, O saints, to intercede for sinners; God's role it is to have mercy on those who despair.
O saints of God, pray to the King on behalf of the prisoner. Pray to the Pastor on behalf of the sheep. Pray to Life on behalf of the corpse, that He might lend His hand to aid me and strengthen my humble soul in its feebleness.

-By St. Ephrem the Syrian

I'm a One?

I'm a One? I wonder why I got a different result this time.

the Perfectionist
Test finished!
you chose CZ - your Enneagram type is ONE.




"I do everything the right way"





Perfectionists are realistic, conscientious, and principled. They strive to live up to their high ideals.



How to Get Along with Me





Take your share of the responsibility so I don't end up with all the work.

Acknowledge my achievements.

I'm hard on myself. Reassure me that I'm fine the way I am.

Tell me that you value my advice.

Be fair and considerate, as I am.

Apologize if you have been unthoughtful. It will help me to forgive.

Gently encourage me to lighten up and to laugh at myself when I get uptight, but hear my worries first.


What I Like About Being a One





being self-disciplined and able to accomplish a great deal

working hard to make the world a better place

having high standards and ethics; not compromising myself

being reasonable, responsible, and dedicated in everything I do

being able to put facts together, coming to good understandings, and figuring out wise solutions

being the best I can be and bringing out the best in other people


What's Hard About Being a One





being disappointed with myself or others when my expectations are not met

feeling burdened by too much responsibility

thinking that what I do is never good enough

not being appreciated for what I do for people

being upset because others aren't trying as hard as I am

obsessing about what I did or what I should do

being tense, anxious, and taking things too seriously


Ones as Children Often





criticize themselves in anticipation of criticism from others

refrain from doing things that they think might not come out perfect

focus on living up to the expectations of their parents and teachers

are very responsible; may assume the role of parent

hold back negative emotions ("good children aren't angry")


Ones as Parents





teach their children responsibility and strong moral values

are consistent and fair

discipline firmly


Renee Baron & Elizabeth Wagele


The Enneagram Made Easy
Discover the 9 Types of People
HarperSanFrancisco, 1994, 161 pages



You liked the test? so please RATE it...
but remember! it had only two questions!!! ;-)










--------------------------------------------------------------------------------



You are not completely happy with the result?!
You chose CZ

Would you rather have chosen:


AZ (THREE)

BZ (FIVE)

CX (TWO)

CY (SIX)






My test tracked 2 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender:




You scored higher than 0% on ABC


You scored higher than 0% on XYZ

Link: The Quick and Painless ENNEAGRAM Test written by felk on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

Decluttering

Yesterday, I couldn't find the shoes I wanted to wear. In this nice new house, I've got a huge walk-in closet, and a huge box of shoes, and I took every shoe out of that box but didn't find the ones I wanted to wear. Oh no! They must be in the dreaded garage! Who had time to sort through a hundred boxes to find them, so I wore my usual black suede slip on tennies.

I got to thinking about this last night while I was surfing the web. I need to declutter. I have too much of everything. Too many shoes. Too many clothes, too many books. Too much food. Too much ME. Too many distractions. Too much arrogance.

I think that in some ways, decluttering is a spiritual exercise. Its cutting away the unessential, which by definition, leaves the good, the necessary, the valued, the truth. Decluttering is something that I've put off for far too long - why is that? One of my worst traits is procrastination, but I don't think that pure laziness is the reason. When I look at all the things I accomplish in a week, say, and how busy I am, I realize that I am far from lazy. There must be a fear that makes me put off doing certain tasks - sometimes even tasks that I love.

I've been thinking about decluttering and how it relates to fear... What came to mind was, what if I strip everything away that needs to be stripped away, and there is nothing left? What if there is no ME underneath all the roles I play and stuff I do and stuff I have? But that would provide an opportunity to invent the me I'd like to be, so that's not SO very fearsome. What if I don't like what is left? What if its ugly? What if I don't want to be that person and never even knew that I was? Just typing that out makes me uncomfortable. So, that's the fear.

But, Great Lent begins with the Rite of Forgiveness in just a couple of days. During that service, we will all forgive each other for what we have done and what we have failed to do all year long. Its not rote - far from it - I am deeply, deeply moved each year, particularly when I come face to face with the people I love most who I have also wronged most, especially my daughter. We neglect and rail at and misuse those we love most, don't we? What strange beasts humans are!

This year, in addition to asking forgiveness of my daughter and of my brothers and sisters in Christ, I am also going to ask forgiveness of myself in my heart, and then get to the work of decluttering -- me. I hope I find something of value while I'm at it.

Sayings of Elder Ioann

On February 5, the day of commemoration of the Synaxis of New-martyrs and Confessors of Russia, Elder Ioann Krestiankin, at age 95 the oldest monastic of the Pskov Caves Monastery, and its spiritual director, an Elder fervently loved by all, reposed. He died several minutes after communing of the Holy Gifts of Christ. We present here to the readers of Parish Life instructions excerpted from three of Fr. Ioann’s letters to spiritual children:

Did you know that you do not get down from the Cross? You are taken down from it. And your Cross, if you courageously carry it to the end, will yield great spiritual fruit, transforming your soul, and nourishing your loved ones as well. The great difficulty is that the enemy of all mankind, who is irritated by your charitable acts of compassion, the beginnings of love, intensely opposes everything [you do]. And recognizing the machinations of the enemy, we do not have the strength or the skill to oppose him. Yet that is what we must do.

No one has ever found it painless to carry and ascend his Cross. Yet without the Cross, we cannot see Christ. We choose the Cross but once, and the rest of life is lived with what opportunity that Cross offers us.

No matter where we might go, our Cross will get no lighter. External sorrows may abate for a time, but it is then that inner ones, even more heavy and profound sorrows pile up on us.

What I'm reading now

"Limitless and without consolation would have been our sorrow for close
ones who are dying, if the Lord had not given us eternal life. Our life
would be pointless if it ended with death. What benefit would there then
be from virtue and good deed? Then they would be correct who say: "Let us
eat and drink, for tomorrow we die!"

But man was created for immortality, and by His resurrection Christ opened
the gates of the Heavenly Kingdom, of eternal blessedness for those who
have believed in Him and have lived righteously. Our earthly life is a
preparation for the future life, AND THIS PREPERATION ENDS WITH OUR
DEATH. "It is appointed unto man once to die, but after this the judgment"
(Heb 9:27). Then a man leaves all his earthly cares; the body
disintegrates, in order to rise anew at the General Resurrection. Often
this spiritual vision begins in the dying even before death, and while
still seeing those around them and even speaking with them, they see what
others do not see."

--St. John Maximovitch LIFE AFTER DEATH

Homeschooling

I'm seriously going to put my 16 yodd in high school next year, for many reasons. Although all the reasons to continue homeschooling are still valid, I had to sit down and seriously consider why I am homeschooling her --- am I doing it for her, or for ME? When she was young, her best interests and my personal wishes intersected, and we both flourished with homeschooling. That was a very sweet time. Over the past couple of years, I haven't been so sure.... of course, a lot of things have happened, but even so, I have to admit some hard truths about our homeschooling:

1. I am not self disciplined enough to make sure that she does all her work, every day. Consistency in homeschooling is key, IMHO.

2. In the last two school years, she has accomplished about a half-year's worth of learning.

3. She needs more structure and oversight than I can possibly give her, especially since I have to work outside the home.

4. She has no one in her own age group to socialize with, no one who is at the same emotional, developmental or intellectual level as her, and no hope of meeting anyone at this time. Its nice that she is so close with a girl three years younger, but that age difference is beginning to make a big difference, as well as the difference in world view between the two families. Its much better that she is still very close with our former neighbor, who is the same age, and whose family is encouraging a good education.

5. Spending so much time alone, or within a very limited group of people, is giving her a skewed view of the world and her place in it - she is only 16 (on Sunday!) and does not know everything about everything. She is not the center of the universe. Granted, this is how most teens view themselves and the world, but for E, it is *enhanced* by not being challenged in her thinking by peers.

6. Spending so much time alone is feeding into melancholy and depression, and last fall, she began reaching out in ways that were not in her best interest.

7. Spending so much time with adults is making her think she is an adult, and should have all the rights and respect that an adult commands.

8. Spending so much time alone enhances her feelings of isolation, of being different, of not fitting in, of being a black sheep.

This is not a pretty picture. Last June, I decided to move into a really good school system so that I would at least feel that I had a choice regarding schooling for dd. We continued to homeschool this year, but it is not going well, for all the reasons I listed above.

So, she has come to the decision that she wants to go to school in the fall, and I'm going to let her. I think it will be good for her in general. That is not to say that there aren't negatives about going to school, but overall, I think she will be better served by having more structure in her life, and being forced to interact with children her own age, where she will be challenged academically AND by her peers. Truthfully, she needs to be taken down a peg or two by a peer.

Sometimes I read what other homeschooling mothers write online, and look at the homeschooling efforts of people that I know, and I wonder how the emphasis got moved from what is best for my child, to feeding my own ego. When did homeschooling become all about ME?

If you can look at the fruits of homeschooling your children and honestly say, yes, my child(ren) are on grade level mostly and are consistently learning and progressing in their studies, AND I have the self-discipline to oversee their schooling EVERY day to ensure that that they continue progressing, then there is no need to make any changes.

But if you can't honestly say that - if your homeschooling is sporadic, if your children are not progressing, if you cannot keep up with the homeschooling as well as all the other things mothers do - like cooking and housekeeping, if your children are not at or near grade level, then have a look at what other possibilities are out there that would serve your children well, and choose the one that is in the best interest of your child.

I couldn't, in all honesty, agree to both parts of that equation. Its been a bitter pill to swallow.

What I've learned over the last few months is that what *I* want to do (homeschooling), and what gives *ME* satisfaction (homeschooling) is not in the best interest of my *daughter* at this time. So, I'm going to stop fulfilling my needs at the expense of hers. Its hard, very hard, but necessary. And she is going to high school in the fall.

I guess I'm growing up.

Goodbye, Mama

Exactly one year ago, my mother died. It was just after midnight on a Friday.

On Thursday morning, at 5:30 am, hospice called and said that she wouldn't last more than a few hours, and we should get there asap. So, I woke Roseanne and Elisabeth, and we trundled off to hospice house. Mom was rousable, but with a bit of difficulty. I remember thinking to myself - this is it - this is the last day I will have my mother to hold and to love. When we got there, she was rousable, but with a bit of difficulty. I told her I was there, that I loved her, and that I would stay with her. I must have told her that a million times that day.

As the day progressed, I told Suzanne, a friend and chaplain at Hospice House, that I wanted my mother's RC priest to attend, and I don't know how she did it, but she got his sorry ass to leave his rectory and come to Hospice House. He stayed about five or ten minutes, and rotely recited an empty little prayer, and then he left, all the while saying - she's ready, she's ready. But she wasn't ready - I knew that because she was doing what she had always said she'd do - scratch and claw to stay and go down fighting. What a clueless ass.


My pastor called me and asked if I needed him to come, and I said I did. He was great - he stayed for about an hour and a half, just talking. And then he prayed for my mother. She opened her eyes and looked straight at him while he was praying. He placed his hands on her head and whispered in her ear, she closed her eyes, he made the sign of the cross on her head, she breathed a little easier. He looked at me and I understood. Thank you, Fr. James, with all of my heart.

Noon came and went, and late afternoon, and suppertime, and then it was about 7 pm, and Elisabeth was about ready to collapse. I didn't know what to do - so I called Doc and Mari and they came to the hospice with wine and snacks and sandwiches for Ro and me, stopped by our house to let Puccini out, and then they took the Elisabeth and Poochie back to their house. Elisabeth just couldn't handle it any more - she was ready to break.

By about 10:30 pm, the hospice people had told me a number of times that some people have to be alone to let themselves die, and that they hold on for their loved ones who are keeping the vigil. Finally I was convinced that I should go, and I told Mom that I was going. I felt awful saying that, and I could see that she understood me and was a little agitated. I left the room for about half an hour - I really needed that break. Ro and I walked around the building, and we sat in a little waiting room for a few minutes, but I couldn't stand letting my mother be alone any longer, so Ro and I went back into the room with her. When I told her that I was back, she became very calm.

The lights were dim, and the door was closed for privacy by the staff. About midnight, Ro asked me if I could see the smoke near the door in the upper corner of the room. I couldn't see anything, but she insisted that smoke was coming into the room and hovering in the upper corner. I couldn't see anything and I couldn't smell any smoke either...then I said to her, "Its probably your mother come to get mine." And so it was. My mother's eyes opened and she looked intently at the smoke, then she closed her eyes. The time between each breath became longer. I laid my head on the bed - I was so exhausted - and I held my mother's hand, though I'm sure she couldn't feel her extremities by that point. Roseanne dozed for a few minutes - she was exhausted too. Then I realized that the next breath didn't happen when it should have. I held my mother in my arms and told her I loved her and goodbye, and then I whispered the prayer for the dead in her ear:

"With the spirits of the Righteous made perfect, give rest unto the soul of Thy handmaiden Beatrice, O Savior, and preserve it in that life of blessedness which is with Thee, O Thou who lovest mankind. In the place of Thy rest, O Lord, where all the saints repose, give rest also to the soul of thy handmaid Beatrice, for Thou only lovest mankind."

And then, she was gone. I said to Roseanne, "Ro, I think she's gone." Ro cried and I continued to hold my mother in my arms. And then Ro said that the smoke was gone.

I have read that the last faculty to go is hearing. I hope that's true because then the last earthly words Mom heard were that I loved her and me praying her into heaven.

What would I have done in those days without Roseanne? All my life, she has loved me and been there for me. I can never repay her.

What would I have done without Fr. James throughout that whole last year? And especially that last day - he came to Hospice House as much to help me as to help my mother - and that last prayer.... thank you again, Fr. James.

And thank you to Doc and Mari for selflessly coming at a moment's notice and taking my daughter and my doggie in.

When my father dies, it will most likely not be like this at all - it will probably be more sudden, and chances are that the nursing home will not call me so early in the process. But, I won't let my father be alone, or with strangers when he dies, even if he thinks *I* am a stranger. And I will pray the same prayer in his ear.

Someday I will die, and I hope my daughter will do the same for me.

The meaning of suffering
This morning I read the most profound post on the Orthodox Convert list, written by Silouan about the meaning of suffering. I'm clipping it here because I want to think about this some more...

David wrote:
> If God is in charge then somehow he is responsible... How shall we
> view the God that just allowed 1,000 people to die in the Red Sea
> do to a ferry accident?

Hi David,

This makes me wonder why anyone would think those people are dead?
God is the God of the living, not the dead. Those people are still
alive and conscious after being separated from their bodies and
called to judgment. And God surely has the right to do that at any
time, doesn't He?

It always sounds strange to me when we call it evil and bad that a
man dies at forty, and everybody has to go through moral contortions
trying not to blame God for allowing this horrible thing to happen -
but when a man dies at age ninety nobody bewails the evil God has
permitted to occur. God decides when He'll call any of us to
judgment. We've all known times when a friend (or we ourselves) ought
to have been killed in an accident or sickness - but beyond
expectation we survived. We probably muttered "God must not be done
with me yet". I don't think anybody surprises Christ by being killed
before He was ready to bring them to judgment.

Trials, suffering, and temptations are permitted to come to us to
shape us. In Hebrews I just read that discipline is how a child knows
he's a son and heir, not illegitimate, because a father disciplines
every son he loves. And no discipline seems pleasant at the time but
afterward it yields fruit: God's character. As a child we hated being
constrained - early bedtimes, strict rules, can't have the candy we
want - and as adolescents and adults we probably took on disciplines
that actually *hurt* - like bodybuilding, long-distance running,
working all day in harvest season. All those disciplines built us
into men and women. So when hardships come, of course we say "I hate
this but it's for my salvation. So I'll thank God for reminding me
I'm a son and heir, and pray that I won't waste these trials by
whining and scheming to get away." After all "longsuffering" is a
virtue in the Bible.

As for sins that people commit against us - The demons can only
suggest things, and their judgment is already known. It's humans who
always have the freedom to act on suggestions; it's humans who by our
own choices build the chains and passions that constrain us to evil
or selfish acts. We can't blame God for our own free choice to sin,
unless we want to blame Him for making us in His image, with our own
will. The worst that people do to one another isn't God's choice.
There's a judgment seat where we'll all stand accountable for the way
we used the freedom God gave us. In the mean time, since nothing
surprises Him, God is able to put the sinner where his choice will
damage as few people as possible, and to make the suffering they
receive be for their salvation.

Our culture teaches us all suffering is bad and evil. Our culture
wants to return us to the state of infants, endlessly consuming what
industry produces and markets to us. The Gospel message that
suffering is not necessarily evil is counter-cultural. But by God's
mercy we have the Church to form a Christian mindset in us, so that
we can escape the broken thinking that our culture tries to program
into us.