My first bad haiku

At Catholic Teacher Musings is Bad Haiku Friday. My submission:

To live in N. J.
Is to take thirty minutes
To drive but 6 miles.

Six is super!

Happy Birthday to my boy, Bubba! Bub turns six today and we are so blessed to have this boy with us.

Here is a Bub-crostic poem to describe my middle child:

Bubbly
Uproarious
Beautiful
Buddy
Awesome

Bub likes: music; They might be Giants; Star Wars; video games; snuggling; hugging; his brother and sister, and of course, his mom and dad; he likes to play with his friends.

Bub dislikes: tomato sauce, lima beans.

Happy birthday to my funny, sunny, Bubba. I can't believe it's been 6 years since you were born. You are a delight and you warm my heart with your hugs and silly songs and stories. I am so glad that God sent you to us.

September 11

I remember that Sepember 11, 2001 dawned clear and bright. The cloudless sky was a brilliant shade of blue and the sunlight hadn't seemed so clear in a long time.


Primo (almost 8 months old at the time) and I were at home. I was watching TV. Scott and my mom (who was living with us at the time) had left for work already. I was watching a morning news program when they reported that a plane had crashed into one of the twin towers. What a horrible accident, I thought. Then, a few minutes later, another plane. My mom called, "This is not an accident," she said. I tried calling Scott, but he was working out in the gym, watching everything from an exercise bike.


The Pentagon. Pennsylvania. I called my girl friend, who was living on a Marine Corps Air Station at the time. They were fine.


I thought back to how I had interviewed for a couple of jobs in New York City in the year before. How one of those jobs was at a dot com in the financial district. I was glad I hadn't been offered one of those jobs. I remembered watching the coverage, watching those two towers-which I could see from the nearby highway overpass that I drove almost daily-collapse into dust and smoke. Watching papers from the office buildings fall like snow from the sky. Watching desperate people jump from the windows of those towers. Thinking about the firefighters, police officers, and civilians who were trapped in the rubble. Rejoicing at the recovery of one of the victims.


I remember how in the next couple of days, everyone walked around, numb. I remember how the wind shifted, blowing into our town in New Jersey from the East, from Manhattan, only 15 or 20 miles away as the crow flies. How hazy everything was and the smell that came in through our open windows. The smell of death.


I remember how six months afterward, the pain was lessened and there were two bright lights in the night sky which brought more comfort than I could have guessed as I looked up at them from my house, or anywhere I happened to be in our area.


I remember thinking about how life will never be the same again. This innocence, naivete, that we all had about how safe we were-how what happened in Israel almost every day could never happen here-was gone. How my child, my children to come, would always have September 11 in their history. How Primo would never remember a time when the Twin Towers stood tall, a symbol of American prosperity and our engineering ingenuity.


And how do I answer the questions of the 4th graders I taught in CCD that year? "Mrs. G., how can God let that happen? How could he let those bad guys kill all those people," when I wasn't entirely sure of the answers myself?


I also remember how we all came together, proud to be American. I remember that we were all going to show this new enemy, Osama Bin Laden, what we were made of and how we were not going to be bowed; we would not quake at his shaking fist. We live in the greatest country in the world, damnit!


Looking back now from the distance of 8 years, I wonder, where has that feeling of one-ness gone? Where has the feeling that we really DO live in the greatest country in the world gone? Where did all of that goodwill go?


September 11, 2001, was a day of senseless cruelty, of mass murder. It showed us how we needed each other. It showed us how truly selfless most of us are. Remember those firefighters and policemen, clergy and laypeople, who all rushed into the burning skyscrapers with no regard for their own safety? Where is that sense of selflessness now? Where is the unity?

Will it take another disaster for us to get it back?

You say it's your birthday?

Well, it's her birthday too, yeah!

Happy birthday to my pink Princess, Curly Sue. She's three now, which means, in her own arbitrary terms, that she is now big. She wasn't big yesterday, but she is today. She starts school in about 3 weeks. She will also start dancing lessons. She will also continue to boss her big brothers around and generally try to run everyone's life. what else are little sisters for?

As my dad says, she's our little ray of sunshine. We love you, Curly Sue. Happy Birthday!

August 27 is the feast of St. Monica!

You can find a nice reflection on St. Monica's life here at American Catholic.

Found this great three day novena at the St. Monica Sodality of Michigan:

TRIDUUM (THREE-DAY) NOVENA in HONOR of ST. MONICA

For an INCREASE of FAITH, HOPE and CHARITY

This Three-Day Novena may be begun three days before or on the feast days of St. Monica August 27 (Traditional Calendar May 4th), St. Augustine - August 28, St. Augustine's birthday - November 13, St. Augustine's Baptism - April 24

FIRST DAY

Prayer for Faith

O glorious St. Monica, transfixed with sorrow when you saw your beloved child Augustine living in the dark and gloomy abyss of error and vice, and straying far from the right path which leads to true felicity in the possession of God and His holy grace, hear our prayer, O afflicted mother. By that cruel sorrow, which with so much patience you did bear, and by those earnest sighs and bitter tears with which you did appeal to God to change the heart of your prodigal son, and by your wondrous confidence in God, which was never shaken, O grant to us, your children, that we may, like you, place all our trust in God, and in our trials and troubles be ever resigned to His holy will. While we ask you, O glorious mother St. Monica, to supply for us our special needs, we here earnestly ask you to pray for the erring children of Jesus, so many Augustines, straying from God and hurrying to ruin. Let that earnest prayer of yours go forth once more for us and for sinners, that we may live in the light of divine grace and be united again thereafter to bless the bounty of a loving God for eternity. Amen.

LET US PRAY. O God, look graciously down upon Your children who sigh in this valley of tears. With hope we pray for our daily bread, for the forgiveness of our sins, for the never-failing help of Your grace, and for the faithful fulfillment of Your promises: to find life everlasting and a happy abode with You in heaven, through the merits of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer.

May God, through the merits and intercession of Saint Monica, increase our faith, strengthen our hope, and enkindle the fire of charity in our hearts. Amen.

Our Father . . . Hail Mary . . . Glory Be. . . Saint Monica, pray for us.

SECOND DAY

Prayer for Hope

O glorious mother, St. Monica, although the many means you employed to accomplish the conversion of your son Augustine seemed fruitless, and for a long time God Himself appeared deaf to your earnest prayer and unmoved by your ever-flowing tears, you never lost confidence in obtaining the long-sought grace for Augustine. You lovingly and tenderly admonished your erring son; you watched over him ever with all a mother's love, and fearless of danger and heedless of fatigue, followed him from place to place in his weary and wayward wanderings. In a word, all that a mother's tender love could suggest, all that a mother's anxious solicitude could inspire, all that a wondrous prudence and true wisdom could dictate, you, O great St. Monica, cheerfully did to effect the return to God of your firstborn and darling child. By all these generous efforts, so happily crowned in the end, hear, O mother, the petitions we make to you. Pray for us, too, and pray especially for those who are unmindful of and ungrateful to God. To you, O dearest mother, we are especially dedicated; look upon us, then, as your children, and win for us the grace we need. Regard mercifully the most destitute among us, that sin being diminished, the number of the faithful may increase, and greater glory may be given to Him who is the best of friends, the truest of benefactors, our first beginning and last end, the source of all our hope, our Savior, our God. Amen.

LET US PRAY. O God, look graciously down upon Your children who sigh in this valley of tears. With hope we pray for our daily bread, for the forgiveness of our sins, for the never-failing help of Your grace, and for the faithful fulfillment of Your promises: to find life everlasting and a happy abode with You in heaven, through the merits of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer.

May God, through the merits and intercession of Saint Monica, increase our faith, strengthen our hope, and enkindle the fire of charity in our hearts. Amen.

Our Father . . . Hail Mary . . . Glory Be . . . Saint Monica, pray for us.

THIRD DAY

Prayer for Charity

O glorious mother St. Monica who can conceive the consolation that abounded in your heart, so long the home of brooding sorrow, when you saw your child Augustine rising in the light of grace and giving himself generously to God. When you folded your converted son in your arms and tears of every joy streamed forth to tell the glowing jubilee of your heart, Oh, how in that moment God in his mercy recompensed your years of sorrow and anxiety, your long and weary days of racking suspense. It was impossible that a child of tears like yours should perish and when your son Augustine heard the call of God he obeyed it, and his life and his deeds flung a luster all their own on you, St. Monica. O fortunate mother, twice mother of your child, deign to listen to our prayers and present our petitions to God. Look lovingly, and with all a mother's interest on us assembled here, under your protection, to honor you. We love you and let us become, as St. Augustine of old, the objects of your maternal love. Pray that we, too, like St. Augustine, may have strength to cling to God, and triumph over sin and temptation. By your prayers break the fetters of sin that hold in cruel bondage the souls of your sinful children in this world. O mother, pray that the miracle of grace in the heart of Augustine may again and again be repeated in these day of universal sin, and that the erring children of Jesus may be led back to the fold so that united here on earth, we may securely go through the dangers of life and be united with you, our mother, in heaven forever. Amen

LET US PRAY. O God, look graciously down upon Your children who sigh in this valley of tears. With hope we pray for our daily bread, for the forgiveness of our sins, for the never-failing help of Your grace, and for the faithful fulfillment of Your promises: to find life everlasting and a happy abode with You in heaven, through the merits of Jesus Christ, our Lord and Redeemer.

May God, through the merits and intercession of Saint Monica, increase our faith, strengthen our hope, and enkindle the fire of charity in our hearts. Amen.

Our Father. . . Hail Mary . . . Glory Be . . . Saint Monica, pray for us.