Changes

How I've neglected my little blog recently. But it's been a time of turmoil for me. After a minor fall when I was in the USA it was discovered I had a very fragile back and the fall fractured several vertabrae. At least I gather that was what happened. Anyway, I have to face the fact thatI have a damaged back and sitting in a church pew is painful for me and kneeling is impossible. So changes have had to be made. I can't go to Latin Mass or daily Mass anymore. I do go to Sunday Mass at my local church which has taken some getting used to. Thankfully there is a padded seat at the very back of the church which I can sit in The congregation at my local church is very multicultural and very relaxed. There dozens of small children milling around constantly and the noise is incredible. But...Our Blessed Lord is there and really that is all that matters. Isn't there something in the Bible about our lives having'seasons'? Well my 'season' now is to learn tolerance and a different kind of love, and to make my own silent space to receive, thank and worship Him at his wonderful gift, the Mass.

Sacrificing Lent

I an hardly believe that Lent is almost over! Because of continuing ill health I have been almost unable to go to Mass and so have hardly noticed it IS Lent. And I miss it! I miss quietly saying the Stations of the Cross at St Mary's Church after Mass, I miss the flowerless altars and the purple shrouded statues. I miss the small extra sacrifices we make to remind us of Christ's supreme sacrifice for us, and I miss looking forward eagerly to the joyous celebration of Easter. But if it is God's Will that I must manage without those things this Lent then I've tried to yield them up willingly and with some quiet joy as a very different lenten sacrifice.

An English Catholic.

Tomorrow is St Patrick's Day and perhaps it is a good day as any to confess to something that I seldom mention; I am, that rare breed, a totally English Catholic. When I was a child I found this very puzzling. Almost all the kids in my class were from Ireland or of Irish stock and so were the teachers. I asked my mother repeatedly about it as I felt very left out, but no, my mother was absolutely sure, we were English. And so things remained until I met Alex. He was, and is, an amateur historian and is half Irish himself. He was fascinated by the idea of an English Catholic with apparently no Irish roots. "How could you be?" he mused "For many centuries it was almost impossible to be a Catholic in England unless you were very wealthy. There were no Churches and no priests." But thanks to the internet he has recently managed to solve the mystery. For many centuries my ancestors were workers on the Estate of a Catholic landowner who insisted that all his workers were Catholics. How the landowner managed to stay onside with the some of the ruling monarchs we don't know but somehow he did. So we don't actually celebrate St Patrick's Day in our family but we will be wearing a rose on St Georges Day!

Missing Anna

I have been thinking that perhaps I should change the name of this blog. I called it "Anna's Song" because even as a child I loved the story of Anna who spent her time in praying in the church. I very much wanted to be like Anna and when I started this blog I was in the habit of praying daily in the church. Even if for some reason I couldn't be present at Mass I always paid a visit to pray in God's house. But things have changed. I cannot at the present time drive and as we don't live withing walking distance of a church I have to rely on Alex to drive me. He's very good at ferrying me around but I can't ask him to take me to church and pick me again up 6 days a week. We both go to Mass on Sundays of course even though Alex isn't a Catholic. So I've narrowed it down to the holy hour on Tuesdays and I try to go on one other weekday but I SO miss my daily visits. But hopefully I will be able to drive again soon and then I'll say with the psalm "I rejoiced when they said to me, let's go to God's house..."

Sad News

It seems our Latin Mass may not continue for much longer. Our beloved Fr Tom's eyesight is failing rapidly despite many prayers and he also has other health issues. There are various priests who could and would say the Latin Mass for us but our Bishops have made it clear they will not be given permission to do so. We're praying for a change of heart... God's Will be done.

A Test of Faith

A couple of days ago I was standing at the end of our drive talking to my daughter when the earth moved. Literally. It's terrifying feeling when the ground beneath your feet shakes from side to side and you can see trees tossing wildly and hear the house creak ominously. We clutched each other and my daughter was praying aloud "Please don't let this be a big one." Fortunately it wasn't. Inside our house only a few ornaments fell off shelves and only one was broken. Since the massive Christchurch quake we are much more scared of earthquakes than we used to be. Even going into a Church is a test of Faith now, as every Catholic church in this city has posted a warning on the doors that in the case of a moderate to serious earthquake the church could be seriously damaged and that one enters at one's own risk! I haven't noticed that the numbers at Mass have fallen - we Catholics are a tough breed. But I'm sure that many a fervent prayer is uttered as we go through the doors.

Christmas Past

At this time of the year with a large part of my family overseas I was remembering Christmas's past when my own children were young and also the many nativity plays I've put on either at church or at school. When our children were young we always acted out the nativity including the 3 kings. I remember when our youngest daughter desperate to play Mary, played her with great seriousness even though her right leg was in plaster! I remember my husband was always typcast as Herod because of his stong deep voice! At school my greatest delight was once persuading a boy to be an angel. After all, all the named angels - Michael and Gabriel- had male names. So for our brave boy angel we ditched the white robes and tinsel round the head and gave him a simple and manly angel costume of austere gold. He played the part with great seriousness and dignity and it was extremely moving. Another year I shall never forget, we picked a beautiful but rather highly strung girl for Mary; all went well until Joseph made a slight mistake and Mary picked up Baby Jesus, who fortunately that year was a doll, and hit him over head with it! There were also some very touching years... when a 7year old 'Mary' sat on the front of the stage with 'Jesus' in her arms and her eyes fixed on Him, sang in a gentle, sweet voice "Sleep Quietly my Jesus..." And mostly I remember we chose as 'Mary' a dear little 8 year old and a few days before the play was performed she was diagnosed with a serious and ultimately fatal disease. But she insisted on going ahead and played her part beautifully. Now it's just Alex and me and we do no acting but he loves to get the Bible out and asks me to read aloud for us both the greatest true story ever.