Lest we forget: Memorial Day 2010

Memorial Day 2010

The Field of the Slain, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan

To all men and women who have given their lives in military service to our country: thank you. Without your sacrifices, America might not be here today. Or at least, not be as she is today. True is the maxim "Freedom isn't free." May we always see freedom as the freedom to do and be good, and not as the freedom to "do anything." I am continually sickened to see how the poisonous ideologies that you fought against are permeating our culture more and more. Beloved dead: pray for us, as we pray for you. You are not forgotten, may God grant you peace.

And to all now dead who fought in our nations battles, here at home and abroad, but were not killed at war, we thank you and remember you, too. My Grandfathers Charles and Robert are my most immediate connection to veterans, in this case World War II. Both returned home. Grandpa Bob entered at the tail end of the war, and didn't see much. In which case, I am thankful, as perhaps otherwise Daddy might not be here...then I would not. Grandpa Charlie witnessed a lot, and was haunted for the rest of his days by his memories of war. He never did talk about it much to my mother, his daughter.

Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.

.......................................

Poem: "In Flanders Fields," by John McCrae, written 1915, during World War I.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

................................

The Red Cross (allegory of Flanders war graves), by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan


Archangel Michael trampling Satan, by Guido Reni



Our Lady of Peace, by Evelyn Pickering de Morgan



St. Joan of Arc, Medieval, artist unknown

.............................

Christ Jesus, Prince of Peace, have mercy on us.
Our Lady of Victory, pray for us.
Mary, Queen of Peace, pray for us.
St. Michael the Archangel, pray for us.
St. Joan of Arc, pray for us.

Keep our soldiers safe.

The dance of shadow and light

I was just now browsing this blog looking for something I had read a few months ago, when I came across this post. Breathtaking. Just breathtaking. And it connects eerily to my own life, in the way these little things (or are they so very little?) often seem to do....since the end of July 2008, I have put on my MySpace (which I never visit anymore, lol), for my location, "where light and shadows meet." It is a concept/vision that has intrigued me for a long time, and just the imagery of it...stirs my mind and heart. Oh, do read it. I love this. It's so...I don't know how to explain it. Just read it. :)

An excerpt:

“Light shines in the darkness; the darkness comprehends it not.”

A lot to think about in that one little line. A lot to think about in the dance of shadow and light, which moves all around us and within. The more we understand about how we house dark and light inside our own souls, the more we can understand its movement through the world.

That’s a lot to look at, a lot to be accountable for, too, over time and in eternity. No wonder we are always only beginners.

It reminds me a little bit of Switchfoot: "The shadow proves the sunshine; let my shadows prove the Sunshine."

Thoughts and Observations on Memorial Day weekend

It's Memorial Day weekend again, which means parades and barbecues, cemetery tributes and visits with faux flowers*....


What I find interesting, however, is that for a lot of people, it's actual focus is forgotten and altered. No, I don't mean here how it has just become another "day off" on which to relax, which is sad in itself, but rather how it has gone, for many families, from a day on which to exclusively remember our war dead and also those who served in the military, survived, but have since passed away, to a day on which to remember any and all dead family members. ie: in stores selling the faux flowers - many say "Mother" and suchlike. The ones that stand up against the gravestones. You know...

Anyway. The reason it interests me is because, quite frankly, this is a result of Protestant America. Present-day America may have been discovered (not talking about Native Americans here) by Catholics (Spanish), but was founded by Protestants. America is more or less Protestant-ly minded. ish. Even my own family used Memorial Day as the day to visit the graves of all family members, not just the military ones.


See, if America were Catholic, or Catholic in founding, if you get what I mean, this would not have happened. My point:

All Souls Day, November 2nd, is for all dead family members, etc.

Memorial Day, in America, is a day set aside to remember our war dead and those who served in the military, now deceased, but did not die in combat. ie: both my mother's father and my father's father, etc.

(Veteran's Day, November 11, was originally called Armistice Day, for the day WWI ended, but was then changed in the US to be a day on which to remember and honor our living veterans; in other countries it is often called Remembrance Day, and is their "Memorial Day" on which to remember both war dead and veterans)

In traditionally Catholic cultures, All Souls Day is the day everyone goes to the cemeteries and places flowers at the graves, etc. Along with all the other varied and colorful traditions connected to the day for the different cultures. For Americans, the most visible connection we have to this day is Dia de los Muertos (Nov. 2nd), in Mexico. "The Day of the Dead." It is not a "Mexican Halloween," in the way Halloween is thought of in America. It is All Souls Day, as celebrated by our Mexican brothers and sisters. They have many traditions, besides taking flowers to the graves of their loved ones -- sugar skulls, home altars laden with the favorite foods of the dead loved ones, many traditional foods, picnics with candles at the cemetery. And so on. It is very colorful and very joyful, really. A time to remember and pray for those who have gone before us.

In doing away with the vibrant traditions and rituals of Catholic Christianity, Protestants somehow perceived a hole in their practices - one regarding their dead. Though it was not at all done consciously or with this purpose in mind, America's Memorial Day gradually began to gain a "sub" purpose (aside from its actual one to honor our military dead) - remembering all our dead family members. Most Americans, not having a special day for this, just naturally began to do so on Memorial Day. Though Memorial Day is not as religiously rich in traditions and customs as All Souls is the world over, it does, in a way, have its own set of traditions.

It seems the need to have a special day to do this is part and parcel of being human. We are hard-wired for it. I think most, if not all, cultures the world over have all had some sort of special day or festival or rituals for remembering their dead. So really, in that sense, and I am not saying this to be snide or condescending at all, Catholics had it right the first time. More and more Protestants are adopting liturgical traditions having to do with a Church year they barely recognize. Some Protestants are more "liturgical" than others, but still, they are adopting....
Advent wreaths and Lenten sacrifices. Memorial Day-turned-All Souls.... this renewal of interest in liturgical/Church year traditions is hopeful. :)

Really, I have found that within the general term "Protestant Christianity", there is a movement of sorts towards a very sacramental vision of life. I find this in the lyrics and worldviews of many of my most-loved musicians, for instance. But the way they are learning to see the world, the way we all ought to be learning to accustom our eyes, is Catholic, not Protestant. (However, many Protestants down the ages have had sacramental visions in some form, despite their particular denomination's actual way of seeing the world.) In seeing goodness in Creation, in material things, even 'secular' ones and seizing them for good, for Christ (ie: rock music)...they are doing something very Catholic indeed. Or, I should say, something that is truly Christian, but I shall write more on that later (really! I have a whole host of thoughts on that). Much of what they are doing/seeing/believing isn't really Protestant at all, especially for Calvinism-based denominations. In fact, Calvin would have punished them severely for a lot of their "excesses" -- tattoos, jewelry, various fashions, that loud music (lol!), dancing.... I find this fascinating. I did read an article somewhere not long ago on how the 'end' of the Reformation is coming... hm...

Maybe someday we can hope Memorial Day will be allowed to return to its proper purpose (which is where the emphasis lies in public celebrations; it's in private ones that it takes on All Souls Day elements) and All Souls Day will be given more attention in America. Because, quite frankly, even American Catholics have forgotten that holy day. (not saying all of them, but a lot). It seems the rich and vibrant traditions were left in the Old Country and their homelands. Not to mention Western society's deathly fear of death (sorry for super-lame pun). Halloween and horror flicks notwithstanding, approaching our mortality with thought, maturity, reverence, and intelligent consideration -- recognizing the urgency with which our lives must be lived (we only get one try) -- is generally avoided at all costs these days. We run away from aging and try to live longer and longer. We laugh at death and scenes of grief and mourning -- unless we are the ones mourning.

Speaking of which, no one knows how to properly mourn anymore. Gone are the old traditions and careful allocations of time and remembrances when someone died. Gone are the consolations of church rituals -- rituals everyone witnessed and participated in. We don't know how to mourn, grieve, or lament anymore (*sarcasm warning* thank you Stoicism remnants in Western society (adopted by mostly Protestants; Catholics generally are emotionally open - crying, laughing, etc), coupled with denial of mortality and avoidance of love and expression of emotion (vulnerability) in general......)

Perhaps we can learn a thing or two from our Hispanic brethren and revive real All Souls Day celebrations in the context of our own heritages and families.....unless Americans keep seeing Dia de los Muertos as just a "Mexican Halloween" without the trick-or-treating and modern-day excess of gory horror. >_< But then, we have also forgotten what Halloween is actually for, what it actually means -- Hallowe'en, All Hallow's E'en/Eve - the eve or vigil before the feast of All Hallows, that is, All Saints. And that is a topic for another day. ;)


*I would love to see a rebirth of the tradition of planting perennial flowers by gravestones. Cedars and yews are traditional for church yards, and lilies, irises, peonies, tulips, crocuses, roses, grape hyacinth, daffodils, and other perennials are also common for graves. In a teeny little forgotten cemetery where I have family members on my mother's side buried, there are lots of irises. One year we were there, I asked if we could dig some up and plant them at home, since they would be meaningful to us. So we did, and now we have some old-fashioned yellow irises and blue flag irises in our yard, a gentle reminder of those ancestors. (along with our jillions of other irises). :)

**It may seem I am picking on Protestants, but I am not trying to belittle, as I have many dear Protestant friends, and many of my favorite bands' members are some kind of Protestant Christian. Plus, several favorite writers are/were Protestant. :P I am just making some observations, as Protestant theology, worldview, and practices and customs (or the lack thereof) produce profoundly different results/effects in human lives than does Catholicism. This in itself is a huge topic and if I ever do write much about my own observations/experiences with this, it will be later. :P No bashing here, just cultural observations. :)

A gift of song

One thing that has passed in and out of my mind for about a year now (it was more on my mind last year, as I graduated high school) has been the desire to start, somehow, a little choir that’s sole purpose would be to sing, free of charge, for the poor and forgotten. Meaning, the people in homeless shelters, nursing homes, domestic violence shelters, soup kitchens, the sick and/or dying in the hospital, and the like. And the music would be mostly sacred music, music they mostly no doubt have little exposure to. (of course there can be exceptions)

The ethereal-yet-earthy sounds of Medieval and Renaissance church music, of chant, and of other, later works, too. Right up to more modern works by composers such as Eric Whitacre (=love, lol) and Joshua Shank. (both utilize dissonant chords, and dissonance in the right places, done correctly, can be the good-goosebump-inducing, unearthly-seeming kind). :)

Why? Because these people are starved for beauty. Time and time again, I heard my HS choral director Roberts tell us that “this concert, that night…” [whichever one it may be] may be the highlight of someone/s in the audience’s Christmas season (if it was that time), or their best night in weeks, even months. He would remind us of the current recession and economic anxiety. How people are pulled thin and stressed out to the extreme. Just one hour (or less) of beautiful music, immersed in another world, can refresh them completely.

My own mother would tell me this – that our concerts were the things she looked forward to most, and the things that refreshed her the most. They allowed her to, if only temporarily, shed all the cares and worries of the rest of the day, the world, of life. I know she is not the only one.

Of course, music is special among the arts. She is sort of the one that connects all the others, somehow, and it is music that most breaks down the ‘barrier’ between the human and the Divine. It is music that most seems to border on another world, causing the already thin veil between them (which can seem to us humans like a wall at times) to flutter… Music is no ordinary thing.

But I regress. Roberts told us to give our all, to give “110%” – to always enunciate so the “little blue-haired lady in the back” can hear what we say (when we sing a song in English), to put our hearts into it, to “tell the story.” To touch people. Music is our gift, he said, to give to the world. He would say that he believes that we were put on this world for two reasons: “to worship God, and to uplift our fellow man.”

And so we sang as a gift. A gift to our families, friends, strangers we’d never meet. For each other.

For God.

When we sang in the Cathedral Basilica of Saint Louis in April of 2009, it was unbelievable. No words to describe it. It was hard for all of us not to cry. I had been there before, in 2007, so I was prepared and eager to see the immense beauty of it. But my 98% Protestant choir-mates were not. Stunned down to their toes, they wandered the Cathedral Basilica with wide eyes, excited whispers, little gasps of surprise and pleasure, awe and wonder written all over their faces. Cameras flashed over and over. Later, I heard some say its beauty was such that it “almost made them want to be Catholic.” (!!! :D) Beauty, true beauty, is a powerful sign of the sacred. It always seems to cause us to look beyond this life to Something More, to True Beauty, which is God. Yet at the same time, beauty is anchored in the things of this world. In colors and sounds and smells and earthy things. It connects heaven and earth. Beauty is also a powerful restorative, bringing healing and relief to the soul.

And somehow, my thoughts wandered to those who have never had the chance to hear such music, nor visit such stunning, breath-taking holy places, such as the Cathedral. Yet I know that both things are meant for all people. Anyone is allowed to visit a church, to go to Mass, to hear such music sung at Mass. But of course – an awful lot of what is sung in Catholic churches these days is a load of rubbish and sounds like awful, pained imitation Broadway show-tunes.

(The best of Broadway music can be lovely and beautiful and fun, true music of its own kind, of course not suitable for Mass, but this stuff at church doesn’t even come close to good Broadway. Or good pop, rock, or anything else like that. It’s all rubbish and dulls the senses.)

And also, an awful lot of Catholic churches these days are indistinguishable from the office buildings down the street, or whatever. They bear no resemblance inside or outside to a house of God, a place of worship, a place of beauty.

After all, the high vaulted ceilings of Gothic cathedrals of the Medieval age were built to lift the eye up, up to light, up to the heavens, ‘up’ to God. Holy Mother Church, in her wisdom, filled the church space with beauty that both instructs and inspires.

So, I thought, drawing inspiration from the little student ensemble (from a local university) that would sometimes sing at Mass at my parish (which the people ate up like candy, who are sadly also starved for beauty)…why not start a vocal ensemble of say, no more than 30 or so people, whose mission would be to share this beauty with those who generally don’t often have access to it?

Again, they are starved for beauty. Not only are a lot of them materially poor, they are deprived of beauty, of spiritual or transcendent beauty, of a respite from the workaday, ugly world that surrounds them, or the loneliness that creeps up on them. And so on.

One thing I have learned in becoming Catholic is that not only can one be materially poor or impoverished, one can also be spiritually poor. Now, this is not the same as being “poor in spirit,” as in the Beatitudes, which refers to the virtue of humility (as opposed to pride). Being spiritually impoverished can mean any number of different things, including those who claim no need for God, those deprived of the Gospel, those given warped ideas about God, the Church, bad theology, etc, those with little to no awareness of the spiritual in any form, or the transcendent, or deprivation of beauty. Because beauty is one of the chief ways God reaches us, for He made us very sensory, ‘sensual’ beings. And so on. Spiritual poverty of this kind takes many forms and is something of a pandemic in our post-modern world. So many addictions, obsessions and compulsions of all kinds – all attempts, conscious or subconscious, at filling the God-shaped ‘void’ in our hearts. We make for ourselves so many false idols that take a myriad of forms – science, politics, sex, entertainment, power, money, “stuff”, sports, social status, work, even work at church, even knowledge…the list goes on. None of them intrinsically evil or bad, we just take it to excess and turn it into a god of sorts. We are a culture that is trying so hard to run away from God, while at the same time desperately seeking Him in our heart of hearts.

I was starved for beauty once. I didn’t call it that because I wasn’t aware of it like I am now. I had no language to articulate what I was feeling with. But that’s what it was. I longed for all the tangible, old, beautiful expressions of faith, the mystical and enchanted – stained glass windows, candles, statues, art, incense, old church buildings, the holy water, the rosaries. The sunlight streaming through the colored panes. The bells ringing, the flowers around the church…and this is just with regards to churches! I longed for beautiful old English homes and cottages, the gorgeous English gardens, I loved and still love period films for the costumes and sets…the list could go on and on and on and on. Beauty is a powerful pull to God, who is Ultimate Beauty.

In a way, I am still starved for beauty. I do not get incense at every Mass, or Mass ad orientem (facing east, pointing to the rising sun [Son]) at my parish. No beautiful music, either, even though we have an organ and a choir loft. With a little training, it would be easy to start a little schola to sing the Gregorian chant propers for Mass. But nooooo, we don’t even try. The makeshift “choir” formed for special occasions or feasts such as Christmas is hardly a choir, with not enough male voices, too many (well-meaning) aging ones that push the tone and pitch awry, and is not allowed to sing from the choir loft!! A group of people standing in front of Mary’s altar singing is a pointless distraction during Mass. They are not there to perform, which is what my Chorale did at the Cathedral Basilica, they are there to provide the music for Mass. Meaning they should be heard, not seen. Whereas in an actual choral performance outside of Mass, it is appropriate to sing around the sanctuary steps/altar rail, etc, as we did.

At the Mass in the Tridentine Rite, locally just starting up, they have to have it in the local “cathedral” which is technically old, but ransacked in the 70’s or whatever, if you get what I mean. -____- The interior is greatly altered and not ideal for the Tridentine. :(

And besides, we are all spiritually impoverished in some way or other, some greater, some lesser. For we are human and imperfect, and on this side of life for now. We all hunger for the Cosmos in the Chaos of life. The God-ache in our hearts is God calling us to Him. We need that longing for the soul’s Beloved. It pushes us along in our pursuit of a holy life lived for God. It is the spark that causes us to seek Him, to run to Him. In the same way that two lovers long for each other…

But now I am rambling on.

Somehow, God willing, I hope to form such an ensemble within the year. How am I going to do this?!

I don’t read music very well, honestly. Or know enough about conducting or directing to do it. I’d like it to be mostly students, if possible. To be young people giving back. It would take work and time and organization. If we were all in choir together normally, we could start out with songs we all know from there, which is helpful. And also, it occurred to me that most of the places these people are to be found – homeless shelters, etc – are not acoustically conducive for such music. In the case of nursing home residents, we’d have to stay there, which is fine. But if it is at all possible, I’d love to somehow bring the others we’d sing for to a nearby church building that is built more traditionally (and therefore more acoustically conducive).

I suppose this is the place I should ask for your prayers for such an endeavor. :P Indeed, yes, I ask for your prayers. I have so many ideas similar to this in scale, I have no idea how I could possibly do them all. Oh, sigh. :( But I really hope to be able to do this. It would be amazing and would be an unusual, but needed, way to minister to the downtrodden and the “least of these.”

...................

"Greatly did I weep at the beauty of your hymns and canticles, moved deeply by the sweet chants of your Church’s music. The voices flowed into my ears and truth was poured forth into my heart, from which the emotion of my devotion overflowed: tears ran from my eyes and I was blessed in them." ~ St. Augustine

Grief.

It's been a little more than a week, now, since I learned of Catriona's death. It's not been easy. I haven't cried every day, since I have been trying not to think of her all the time. I know if I did, I'd just start crying again. Last night, earlier today, and a few other nights, though...I have cried a lot. Cried myself to sleep, even. It just hurts. A lot. Not much can be done about that. I would say a few more things about her, about it all, but not right now. I don't feel like crying again right now. sigh.

Maybe later I will.

It just hurts. I miss her so much. And as soon as I wrote that, tears well up...

sigh again.

Thank you for your kind words, and for caring. Your love is as a balm to my wounds. Please keep me and my family in your prayers, still, as we continue to heal and to grieve.

A hole in my heart

Well, I'm home now. I'm glad to be home.
But...

there is a hole in my heart now.

You see, when I got home, I was sat down and gently told that one of our cats had to be put down a week ago.




They didn't tell me right away because they didn't want to distract me from my finals or ruin my end-of-the-year fun last week. My parents were right in not telling me until I got home. I would have been a wreck otherwise, unable to do much of anything, enjoy anything, or find motivation to study or finish that paper.

But ....omg.

I've already cried and cried and cried. No, it's not Wayne, who was very sick earlier this year. This one was completely unexpected. It's Catriona.


Catriona. She had seemed ill, so Daddy took her to the vet. Who told us that he was 98% sure she had a disease, I forget its name, but it's usually inherited at birth, and won't show (if it does) for 6 or so years. And it's fatal. There's no cure.

Catriona was a little more than 6 years old, about.

Oh, my baby, my beautiful baby girl..........!!!!

They had to put her down then because the vet said it was highly likely she could die while my parents were away in Chicago, packing me up to come home. Plus, she would suffer needlessly.


My heart hurts. Oh, my heart hurts. When I say I'm crying right now, I am not kidding. This is literally a nightmare come true. I've had dreams where we've lost one or more of the cats, and more than once I've woken up with my face wet from crying in my sleep.

Only this time, I am awake. And it is not a dream.

Though I keep expecting to see her walk down the hallway, or jump on the kitchen stool, to see her on the sofa, anywhere...somewhere.................how can this be real???


Silver has lost his best friend.

Our little Roly-Poly Girl is gone. (She would roll over on her back when she happy.)

She chirped at the birds out the window the most. No more will I hear that.

No more will I hear her sweet little voice when she meowed, her loud purrs, or do her little "trick" (stand up on her hind legs and jump a little)....

No more will I see her warming herself under a lamp in the living room, or in the sunlight.

No more will she bang open a door to "let" herself in, as if to say "I am HERE." Oh, you funny girl...

No more will I hear her funny-and-annoying, loud, she-demon-cat growl when she felt her "bubble" had been intruded upon.

No more petting her silky soft fur, holding her itty-bitty paws...

No more having her eagerly ask to be brushed if she saw the brush be gotten out.

No more little "conversations" with her...

Oh, my God! Why? Why?

For all the wonderful things this past school year has brought, it sure has been a painful one, too. So many things lost...

And now, my sweet little kitty girl! Oh, these tears are bitter indeed. And these words are so inadequate. So inadequate.

I know Jesus and Mary are delighting in you, little girl. I love you and miss you so much, my beautiful baby kitty girl, Catriona. I wish I could at least have said good-bye and hugged you and told you I loved you one last time. It hurts so much that I didn't get to. But I know you know I love you, and that Daddy and Mama do, too. Give Corie and Lloyd my love for me.

I love you forever. And I will miss you so, so much. <3

Lady Catriona Marie Velvet Grey

August 2003- May 4th, 2010

"Nothing of what is is lost. It is not lost to God, nor to us."

~ from the book Grieving With Grace (quote found online by me several months ago)

MAD

EDIT: Please note that the following is completely a rant, a stark-raving-mad-rant. No real need to read this. I'm still angry at Facebook and I still think they are really over-stepping their bounds here into our privacy and ability to control what we want on our profiles. Don't know what to do about it except every few days tell them about it. -____-

...................

So.

Rachel FREAKING HATES THE NEW FACEBOOK PROFILE LAYOUT.


THEY COMPLETELY SCREWED UP WHAT I HAD WRITTEN THERE. INSTEAD OF NICE, ALPHABETIZED, ORGANIZED LISTS, IT LOOKS LIKE CRAP NOW. DISORGANIZED AND HARD TO LOOK AT AND READ. PLUS, THE WAY THEY HAVE IT NOW MAKES IT IMPOSSIBLE FOR ME TO HAVE MY LITTLE "POEM" THING UNDER MY "INTERESTS."


THIS NEW LAYOUT MAKES YOUR PROFILE INFO LESS PERSONALIZABLE, HARDER TO READ, CLUTTERED, DISORGANIZED.


AND NO ONE CAN FREAKING READ A RUN-ON LIST OF "PAGES" THAT'S 600+ LONG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



I'M COMPLAINING TO FB THROUGH THEIR 'SUGGESTIONS' link EVERY DAY UNTIL I HEAR FROM THEM OR SOMETHING HAPPENS.



I REFUSE TO SETTLE FOR THIS CHANGE FOR THE WORSE.


I AM SO MAD RIGHT NOW.

FACEBOOK REALLY IS FAILBOOK RIGHT NOW.



Omgggggggggggggggggggggggggggggg


hdoisdy9oaed709aweuoadlkasdnlkasdhuoa9se7r9wuedlaskdlasdjkasjdaou7reo9wueadkasdjklasueo9weaojklsdnkjshdiayraihdksdnjkasehyai4yw98!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!







*fumes*