Saturday, November 27, 2010

Random randomness part 785

Hello, Internet. I know you missed me. My life has been cuckoo crazy lately. Here's a recap:
  1. both boys played flag football in a rec league this fall. This totally kicked my butt. They were in 2 different age groups, so they played on different days and had totally different practices and some of the older boy's games didn't even end until after 9. Monday-Thursday of every week was football in addition to the OT for one of the kids, two different cub scout dens, and CCD for me two nights a week.
  2. I am leading our younger son's cub scout den, which feels completely overwhelming, but probably because of the flag football experience as outlined above. I do enjoy it, but I feel I have have said yes to too much this year.
  3. Case in point: I allowed myself to be guilted into serving as a class mom again for my daughter's preschool class. I was told that they asked everyone else. I'm not sure that's the whole truth. It's fun, but this year can be a lot of work. The teacher already let me off the hook with the huge Thanksgiving breakfast they usually do (she's just coming back from maternity leave and I asked her if we can back off on it), but I still get to chair all of the class parties, field day, "beach" party, and graduation. Which all takes place in the beginning of June and should prove interesting because:
  4. Giglio baby #4 will likely be born that week (I'm emailing all of the parents next week to delegate all of that end-of-year stuff.). We are really excited because we've been trying (or not not trying) to get pregnant since January. Reaction was mixed when we announced it to our families at Thanksgiving dinner (Dinner deserves a post of its own that will never be written. Stressful. not unborn-child-related). Feeling queasy and tired all the time, even at the 12 week mark. Pretty sure it's a girl.
  5. My niece came to stay with last last Sunday. She'll be with us for a while. She needs our prayers. Please pray for us as well.
So, there is most of it, I think. Isn't that enough?

I have to say I'm super jazzed to be pregnant at the same time once again as my best girl, Aimee. We're both due within a month of each other again.

I know I owe you posts. God willing, my life will slow down some. Someday. The way my luck seems to be running, I'll get put on bedrest. The upside would be that I'd have nothing to do but blog. The downside would be that chaos would ensue.

Blessed Mother, pray for me!

Monday, November 22, 2010

Prayer request

My niece has come to stay with us for a time. Would appreciate you throwing a prayer to the Lord on her behalf, on behalf of her parents, and on behalf of our family as we all get used to having each other around!

Monday, November 08, 2010

For Veterans Day

I read this story about a Marine during WWII and St. Michael the Archangel a few years ago. It's beautiful. Thank a vet this week, won't you?

True story of a Soldier and the Intervention of St. Michael

What follows is a letter written by a young Marine to his mother while he was hospitalized after being wounded on a Korean battlefield in 1950. It came into the hands of a Navy Chaplain who read the letter before 5,000 Marines at a San Diego Naval Base in 1951.

The Navy Chaplain had talked to the young man, to his mother, and to the Sergeant in charge of the patrol. This Navy Chaplain, Father Walter Muldy, assured anyone who asked, that this was a true story. This letter was read once a year in the 1960's over a mid-western radio station at Christmas time. We present the letter and let it stand on its own merits.

Dear Mom,

I wouldn't dare write this letter to anyone but you because no one else would believe it. Maybe even you will find it hard, but I have to tell somebody.

First off, I am in a hospital. Now don't worry, you hear me, don't worry. I was wounded but I'm okay. The doctor says that I will be up and around in a month. But that is not what I want to tell you.

Remember when I joined the Marines last year; remember when I left, how you told me to say a prayer to St. Michael every day. You really didn't have to tell me that. Ever since I can remember you always told me to pray to St. Michael the Archangel. You even named me after him. Well I have always prayed to St. Michael. When I got to Korea, I prayed even harder. Remember the prayer that you taught me? "Michael, Michael of the morning, fresh corps of Heaven adorning…" You know the rest of it. Well, I said it every day, sometimes when I was marching or sometimes resting, but always before I went to sleep. I even got some of the other fellas to say it.

Well, one day I was with an advance detail way up over the front lines. We were scouting for the commies. I was plodding along in the bitter cold; my breath was like cigar smoke. I thought I knew every guy in the patrol, when along side of me comes another Marine I never met before. He was bigger than any other Marine I'd ever seen. He must have been over 6 feet 4 inches and built in proportion. It gave me a feeling of security to have such a body near me.

Anyway, there we were trudging along. The rest of the patrol spread out. Just to start a conversation I said, "Cold ain't it." And then I laughed. Here I was with a good chance of getting killed any minute and I am talking about the weather!

My companion seemed to understand. I heard him laugh softly.

I looked at him, "I've never seen you before. I thought I knew every man in the outfit."

"I just joined at the last minute," he replied, "the name is Michael."

"Is that so," I said surprised, "that's my name too."

"I know," he said, and then went on saying the prayer, "Michael, Michael of the morning..."

I was too amazed to say anything for a minute. How did he know my name, and a prayer that you had taught me? Then I smiled to myself, every guy in the outfit knew about me. Hadn't I taught the prayer to anybody who would listen? Why now and then, they even referred to me as St. Michael.

Neither of us spoke for a time, and then he broke the silence.

"We're going to have some trouble up ahead." He must have been in fine physical shape for he was breathing so lightly I couldn't see his breath. Mine poured out in great clouds. There was no smile on his face now. Trouble ahead, I thought to myself; well with the commies all around us, that's no great revelation.

Snow began to fall in thick great globs. In a brief moment the whole countryside was blotted out, and I was marching in a white fog of wet sticky particles. My companion disappeared.

"Michael!" I shouted in sudden alarm. I felt his hand on my arm, his voice was rich and strong, "This will stop shortly."

His prophecy proved to be correct. In a few minutes the snow stopped as abruptly as it had begun. The sun was a hard shining disc. I looked back for the rest of the patrol. There was no one in sight. We lost them in the heavy fall of snow. I looked ahead as we came over a little rise. Mom, my heart stopped. There were seven of them, seven commies in their padded pants and jackets and their funny hats. Only there wasn’t anything funny about them now. Seven rifles were aimed at us.

"Down Michael!" I screamed, and hit the frozen earth. I heard those rifles fire almost as one. I heard the bullets. There was Michael still standing.

Mom, those guys couldn't have missed, not at that range. I expected to see him literally blown to bits, but there he stood, making no effort to fire himself. He was paralyzed with fear. It happens sometimes, Mom, even to the bravest. He was like a bird fascinated by a snake. At least that's what I thought then. I jumped up to pull him down and that was when I got mine. I felt a sudden flame in my chest. I often wondered what it felt like to be hit. Now I know.

I remember feeling strong arms about me, arms that laid me ever so gently on a pillow of snow. I opened my eyes, for one last look. I thought I was dying. Maybe I was even dead. I remember thinking, “Well, this is not so bad.”

Maybe I was looking into the sun. Maybe I was in shock, but it seemed I saw Michael standing erect again, only this time his face was shining with a terrible splendor.

As I say, maybe it was the sun in my eyes, but he seemed to change as I watched him. He grew bigger, his arms stretched out wide, maybe it was the snow falling again but there was a brightness around him like the wings of an angel. In his hand was a sword. A sword that flashed with a million lights.

Well, that's the last thing I remember until the rest of the fellas came up and found me; I don't know how much time had passed. Now and then I had but a moment's rest from the pain and fever. I remember telling them of the enemy just ahead.

"Where's Michael?" I asked. I saw them look at one another. "Where's who?" asked one.

"Michael, that big Marine I was walking with just before the snow squall hit us."

"Kid," said the sergeant, "you weren't walking with anyone. I had my eyes on you the whole time. You were getting too far out. I was just going to call you in, when you disappeared in the snow."

He looked at me, curiously. "How did you do it, kid?"

"How did I do what?" I asked half angry, despite my wound. "This Marine named Michael and I were just..." "Son," said the sergeant kindly, "I picked this outfit myself and there just ain't another Michael in it. You are the only Mike in it."

He paused for a minute. "Just how did you do it, kid? We heard shots, yet there hasn't been a shot fired from your rifle, and there isn't a bit of lead in them seven bodies over the hill there."

I didn't say anything; what could I say? I could only look open-mouthed with amazement.

It was then, the sergeant spoke again. "Kid," he said gently, "every one of those seven commies was killed by a sword stroke."

That is all I can tell you, Mom. As I say, it may have been the sun in my eyes, it may have been the cold or the pain, but that is what happened.

Love, Michael


To St. Michael in Time of Peace Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning, Michael of the Army of the Lord, Stiffen thou the hand upon the still sword, Michael, Folded and shut upon the sheathed sword, Michael, Under the fullness of the white robes falling, Gird us with the secret of the sword. When the world cracked because of a sneer in heaven, Leaving out for all time a scar upon the sky, Thou didst rise up against the Horror in the highest, Dragging down the highest that looked down on the Most High: Rending from the seventh heaven the hell of exaltation Down the seven heavens till the dark seas burn: Thou that in thunder threwest down the Dragon Knowest in what silence the Serpent can return. Down through the universe the vast night falling(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Morning!) Far down the universe the deep calms calling(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Sword!) Bid us not forget in the baths of all forgetfulness, In the sigh long drawn from the frenzy and the fretfulness In the huge holy sempiternal silence In the beginning was the Word. When from the deeps of dying God astoundedAngels and devils who do all but dieSeeing Him fallen where thou couldst not follow,Seeing Him mounted where thou couldst not fly,Hand on the hilt, thou hast halted all thy legionsWaiting the Tetelestai and the acclaim,Swords that salute Him dead and everlastingGod beyond God and greater than His Name. Round us and over us the cold thoughts creeping(Michael, Michael: Michael of the battle-cry!)Round us and under us the thronged world sleeping(Michael, Michael: Michael of the Charge!)Guard us the Word; the trysting and the trustingEdge upon the honour and the blade unrustingFine as the hair and tauter than the harpstringReady as when it rang upon the targe. He that giveth peace unto us; not as the world giveth:He that giveth law unto us; not as the scribes:Shallhe be softened for the softening of the citiesPatient in usury; delicate in bribes?They that come to quiet us, saying the sword is broken,Break man with famine, fetter them with gold,Sell them as sheep; and He shall know the sellingFor He was more than murdered. He was sold. Michael, Michael: Michael of the Mustering,Michael of the marching on the mountains of the Lord,Marshal the world and purge of rot and riotRule through the world till all the world be quiet:Only establish when the world is brokenWhat is unbroken is the word.

A Prayer for Angels
Lord, you are the Host of heaven, the King of glory, the head of all the armies
and angels. Please send out your angels and chariots of fire to hedge my son and
all of our troops in so that no weapon formed against them would prosper. Cover
him with the shelter of your wings and keep him as the apple of your eye.
Prepare the way before him and cause him and all our soldiers to be so
spiritually alert that they will hear a word behind them saying, “This is the
way; walk in it” when you guide them.

A Prayer from Isaiah 54
Lord, let no weapon that is formed against our servicemen and women prosper
(Isaiah 54:7). May every terrorist and insurgent be discovered and apprehended
before he brings destruction on others. Please protect the innocent Iraqi
civilians, especially the women and children, and strengthen the Iraqi people to
rise up against the insurgents who are killing their own people. Protect the
Iraqi police and soldiers, and strengthen them to defend their own country
against terrorists. May Your strong right hand hold and keep our soldiers
securely every day. In Christ’s name, amen.

A prayer from Ps. 17
Almighty Father, show our servicemen and women
Your unfailing love in wonderful ways.
Save them with Your strength…
Guard our troops as the apple of Your eye
And hide them in the shadow of Your wings.