Devotion to St. Philomena

In recent years, I have become acquainted with St. Philomena, a saint about whom I'd never heard much in all the time I was growing up in the Catholic Church. I don't know where the book in this photo came from; I can't remember if my husband ordered it or if it was a gift from one of the pro-life charities we support. In any case, this book sat on a shelf in our living room for years before I ever thought to pick it up. But one day, the lovely painting on its cover called out to me, and on a whim I decided to open it up and read it. I'm so glad I did! If you don't know the story of this amazing little saint, you might be interested in learning about her. I was going to try to write a short summary of St. Philomena's life and her path to sainthood, but I found a website that does it more beautifully and succinctly than I ever could. The address is http://www.catholictradition.org/Saints/philomena.htm if you'd like to click on the link and check it out. There is rather a lot of information on this site, but if you read the first five sections, "The Catacombs," "The Finding of the Body of St. Philomena," "The Marvels of Mugnano," "The Miraculous Image," and "Who Was St. Philomena?", you will get the major details of St. Philomena's extraordinary life and her miraculous powers.

Philomena has the distinction of being the only saint ever to be canonized on the basis of miracles alone, for at the time that her burial site was unearthed in 1802 (about sixteen centuries after her death at the hands of the Roman emperor Diocletian), there was absolutely no known historical record of her existence. But buried with her were some items that gave strong indications that she was a Christian virgin martyr; and then three different people were granted revelations about the unknown saint's life--and their three stories were exactly alike. She actually spoke to one nun, who was then ordered by her superiors to write down verbatim what Philomena had said. Between the miracles that were attributed to Philomena's intercession when no one really even knew who she was yet and these astounding revelations, there was evidence enough of sainthood to begin the canonization process. Although she only lived for 13 years, this little girl is a powerful saint indeed; in fact, her intercessory powers are such that Pope Gregory XVI gave her the title "Wonder Worker of the 19th Century." She is also called "Philomena, Powerful with God." St. Philomena is a patron of "hopeless" or "impossible" cases, like St. Jude; but she is also powerful in cases involving expectant mothers, sterility, marriage problems, and the conversion of sinners, to name a few--and actually, no request is too trivial or important to concern her!

In the above photo, there is also a CD about St. Philomena, which was given to me by my daughter-in-law's father. It includes a section where a nun is reading the actual words of St. Philomena as they were told to the nun who was one of the three people granted revelations about her life. It is extremely affecting to hear about Philomena's terrible sufferings and the courage with which she bore them, and to hear the comforting words that Our Blessed Mother spoke to her before she died. The nun who is speaking has such a sweet, soft voice--so like that of a 12- or 13-year-old girl--that one can imagine it is the young martyr herself telling her own story.

A special devotion to St. Philomena is the praying of a chaplet in her name. You begin by saying the Apostles' Creed; then you say three Our Fathers (one for each of the three Persons in the Trinity); then you say 13 Hail Marys (one for each of the years that Philomena lived); and finally, you say "St. Philomena, pray for us" and add any special request. I made myself a chaplet bracelet with three clear beads for the Our Fathers and 13 red beads(red to represent the blood shed by Philomena) for the Hail Marys. Like a Rosary bracelet, it helps me to keep track of the prayers if I want to say a chaplet when I'm on the go.

I hope you get to know this powerful little saint, who was a favorite of St. John Vianney. In this day and age, we can use all the help we can get!

Where's Allie?

I really shouldn't blog at all today, after putting up two posts yesterday. (But really, what did you think of that picture I posted last night of my little dream puppy? Do you blame me for wanting you to see it?)

Anyway, I'll keep this short. It'll be like a page out of a Where's Waldo? children's book. In this picture, Where's Allie? She pretty much blends in with her surroundings, so you may not have noticed her at first. But keep looking; she's there. She's trying to become one with the blanket (because I guess it's not enough that she's on a comfy couch cushion--the little princess needs a pillow and blanket as well!).

By the way, you might be wondering what in the world Allie is doing up on the furniture in the first place. I guess my husband and I are getting soft in our old age. We were taking care of her during May and June, when my son was doing a lot of traveling for work and the Army Reserves, and for awhile she was content using the plush dog bed we provided for her. Then one day, she hopped up on a chair in our family room as if that had been the norm all along, and for some reason we didn't make her get down. The chair is old and worn, it has a removable, washable slipcover; after all, we thought, what harm could she do? One thing led to another, and before you know it we had decided that if our five sons couldn't destroy this couch in our "new room," a durable leather sectional that we've had forever, Allie probably couldn't either...

The first time my youngest son saw Allie up on this couch, he shook his head and said, "Mom, you're on a slippery slope here. Next thing you know, she'll be sleeping in your bed." That's where I draw the line, though. "That'll never happen!" I insisted. But it's a good thing Allie didn't stay with us any longer than she did, because who knows where we would have found her next!

My Dream Puppy

Okay, I already blogged this morning, and I don't like to put up two posts in one day...but my husband is on a trip, my #4 son left today to drive to VA (he's got a new job starting there, and he's moving in with son #3), my #2 son is out with friends, and my baby boy is working late at the movie theater over at the mall. That means that I'm here by myself, in a big, empty house, and it's dark and rainy outside, and I'm feeling very lonely. At moments like this, I wish I had a dog--a warm, cuddly bundle of love to snuggle up with me on the couch. When my son's dog Allie (the greatest dog in the entire world) was here with us for the months of May and June, I could always count on her to keep me company when everyone else had deserted me!

Because I miss Allie so, I have been going on-line lately, typing in "Plott Hound Puppies for Adoption"--not because I seriously think we're going to get one...but a girl can dream, can't she? And my search led me to my dream puppy a few days ago. This is a picture of her. Isn't she perfect? She's three months old and lives at a shelter not far from us; she's a Plott Hound-Labrador Retriever mix (which is the same mix as Allie, most likely) with a beautiful brindle coat; and she's even got a lovely Irish name: Bridget. I think this is what Allie must have looked like as a puppy, because this face is definitely Allie-esque--right down to the white fur around her nose and mouth. I have fallen in love with this puppy's face! [Sigh...] Yes, it's definitely a case of puppy love.

However, with twin grandbabies located halfway across the country, and our youngest son getting set to leave for his freshman year at a faraway college, and two sons working and living in VA, my husband and I are going to want to be free and unencumbered, so that we can take off at a moment's notice to travel and visit all of our loved ones. It really wouldn't be a great time to adopt a puppy dog. But if it was, this little cutie named Bridget would be my dream puppy.

Hats Off to You, Sweetie!

My second son has been living at home for the past five years, after completing two years of college at a faraway university. For the first two years he was home, he worked as a teacher's aide (paraprofessional) with autistic children at our local middle school. After that, he spent two years finishing his undergraduate degree in secondary math education at the state university very close to where we live. And finally, last year he did his teaching internship at a nearby high school and got his master's degree. (You may remember that I wrote about this son and the odyssey that brought him to this point in his life in my May 22 post called "God Has a Plan.") Within less than a month of earning his master's, my son was hired--after his very first interview--to teach math at an excellent public high school about an hour and 15 minutes from our home.

My husband and I are absolutely thrilled for our boy, and we think this job is going to be a wonderful opportunity for him. That's the sweet part. The bitter part is that he is packing up his things--clearing his room right out--and moving into his own apartment this weekend; and as much as I know that this is good and right and a step he needs to take, here is my problem: I'm going to miss him!

But back to the sweet again. For years I've been begging this son to throw out the old baseball caps he never wears anymore--the ones that are stiff and greasy and filthy and sweat-stained--but I couldn't get him to do it. He stubbornly hung onto them, even after they were no longer fit to wear in public. He's had them hanging on a Shaker peg rack in his room, showcased as if they were trophies. This boy is never without a baseball cap, unless he's in church (and I assume as a teacher he won't be able to wear one in the classroom, either). He always gets fresh new ones to replace the gross ones--so why couldn't he just throw the old ones out when he was through with them? Those yucky caps have been the bane of my existence for years.

Well, yesterday I was working in the basement while my son was packing, and his voice floated down to me. "Mom, come here. I have a present for you on the kitchen table." I hustled up the stairs, filled with curiosity, and guess what my "present" was? Those disgusting ball caps, sitting there in a heap! "I can throw them out?" I asked with awe in my voice, hardly daring to belive this was happening. "Yep," he said, "even the white one with the mud stains on it. The one I was wearing that time G___ got jumped by those guys, and I had to get into the middle of the fight and break it up."

Delirious with joy, I scooped up the grungy caps and dumped them in the kitchen trash can...but then I looked down at that mud-splattered white one with the shamrock embroidered on it, the one my son was wearing when he helped out a buddy, and I reached down to rescue it from extinction. How could I let him throw that one away, when it held a memory about an experience shared with a friend from his first two years of college? Out of all those caps, this was the only one with any sentimental value at all. "Why don't you hang onto this one a little longer," I said, and he smiled and decided he would. (Perhaps now you can see that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, because Mom has trouble letting go of things, too.)

But hats off to you, my sweet boy! You're taking the next big steps in life, moving into your own place and starting a new career; and the fact that you're finally ready to part with your unsightly cap collection just convinces me more than ever that you're ready for new beginnings.

Mythological Muscleman

This is a picture of Tony Horton, the creator of the popular P90X work-out regimen on DVD; here, he's demonstrating a side lunge, I believe. Look at that muscle definition! It's obvious that Tony keeps those muscles of his completely confused, which (if you know anything at all about P90X) explains why he's so ripped.

Okay, this is really a drawing of a minotaur, deftly sketched in pencil by my #4 son when he was in high school. He drew this creature from Greek mythology--a creature with the head of a bull and the body of a man (in this case, a man built like Tony Horton)--in several macho-looking poses. I thought these drawings showed true artistic genius, especially because he wasn't copying anything; these mythological musclemen just sprang from his very creative brain and came to life on paper. I saved all of my son's minotaur sketches, and I have almost enough of them to put on a "Minotaur Week" (like I did with those T-Rex drawings back in June)!

I don't have much to say today, except this: isn't my son talented? I thought I'd just post this glorious piece of artwork for your viewing pleasure. You're welcome!

(P.S. For more on P90X, along with another fine pencil drawing which I posted simply because I wanted an excuse to brag shamelessly about the artistic talent of one of my sons, you can check out my May 21 post, "A Plug for P90X.")

Mothers and Sons

My younger brother put on a concert for our family at the big reunion "Palooza" we had this past weekend, as I mentioned in my post yesterday. He always brings his guitar to family gatherings and plays for us, in a casual sort of way; but this was the first time he set up all of the professional equipment he uses when he has legitimate "gigs," and the whole thing was just phenomenal. He had a bunch of adoring fans in the audience that night, but no one more so than his mommy.

That's my mother gazing on proudly at her son, with her chair pulled right up next to the stage. (She started out there, but eventually moved back and sat with the rest of the riff raff in the cheap seats.)

My mother adores my brother, as you can plainly see when you look at these photos, and she's so proud of him. Actually, she's half in love with both of my brothers, but I think that's the way it is with most mothers of sons--at least from my experience. We moms love our boys. My older brother, the oldest of Mom's children, likes to joke that this talented musician son is Mom's "favorite"; but then my younger brother will counter that no, it is in fact Mom's oldest child who is the one she calls "Precious." I, for one, think it's a tie. They're both her favorites, just like all of my five boys are my favorites.

When I first moved here, I met a gal whose husband worked with mine and we became friends. Her husband had grown up in a family of four brothers and no sisters. When her mother-in-law heard that I, too, had four sons (this was before my baby came along!), she gave me a framed copy of this poem that she'd always had hanging in her house. It is so sweet and poignant, and I thought I'd share it with you. (You might want to grab a hankie first.)

SONS

To press my lips
Upon a fair cheek, or a brow,
Of my young sons--
So long I have stooped down;

But suddenly today to my surprise,
I find that I must lift my eyes
To meet their eyes;
That I must stand on toe tips
And reach up
To kiss their lips.
These tall young sons--
Each straight as any pine--
Can they be mine?

Soon I must share them,
Soon I know that they must go.
But O, I am so glad
That I have had
Small sons to stoop to,
Tall sons to reach to,
Clean sons to give
That other sons may live.

(Author Unknown)

The iMan and His Apps

This past weekend at my family's big reunion/camp-out/"Palooza," my younger, very talented brother put on a private concert for us on Saturday night. He set up his speakers and other fancy equipment--I don't know what any of it is called, but lots of wires were involved--on my sister's porch. Then he played his guitar and sang for us as the sun went down, until the bugs became so ferocious that we were driven inside.

Although my brother has a "day job," music has always been his passion. He picked up an acoustic guitar as a teenager and mastered it, without taking a single lesson or ever learning how to read music, and throughout high school he played in a garage band with several buddies. He plays everything by ear--and he can play just about any genre, from hard rock to classic rock to country to Elvis Presley to the Beatles...well, you get my drift. He's also very funny, and he tells jokes and pulls a lot of faces while he's performing. We set up our lawn chairs facing the "stage," in true concert fashion, and yelled requests at him. (I think we were a tougher crowd than the ones he plays for at bars and parties--and we weren't paying him!) It was a blast! How fortunate we are to have someone like him in the family to provide us with free, top-notch entertainment. The weekend was so much fun anyway, but my brother's concert was the icing on the cake.

At one point, my brother was about to begin a set of 70's and 80's tunes, and he said if anyone had a lighter, that would be the time to raise it. Not many people carry lighters these days (smoking doesn't have the widespread acceptance it used to enjoy), and I guess at concerts kids raise their lit-up cell phones instead. Well, my husband--the iMan extraordinaire--was Johnny on the Spot and found a free app for his iPhone (he likes the free ones best) called "iLighter Free," which puts a realistic-looking image of a lighter on your screen. What's really neat, though, is that as you wave your phone, the flame moves, too. If it had been darker when this photo was snapped, it would probably look like this cute cowboy was holding up an actual lighter.

Leave it to my husband to find this app. I make fun of him a little bit, because he loves his iGadgets so much. He is the iMan. But some of the apps you can get for the iPhone and iPad truly are incredibly helpful. My husband is an airline pilot and is constantly traveling, and he used to bring along his laptop; now, he can pack his iPad and he doesn't even have to take it out to go through security. No matter where he goes, he can get just about any information he could ever need using Apple's state-of-the-art technology. He even gets updates on the sports teams he follows, and when he receives this information (the score of the latest Red Sox game, for instance), his iThingy plays the ESPN Sports Center theme song. Isn't that cool?

There are more serious--and seriously helpful--apps, however, than ones that provide sports updates. Because my husband travels to Europe for his job, on any given Sunday he might find himself in a foreign city wondering how to find a Catholic Church so that he can get to Mass. Surprise: there are apps for that! (There are apps for everything!) Two of his favorite free apps are "Catholic Mass Times" and "Church Finder." With these apps, my husband can locate a Catholic Church, get directions to it, and find out what times the Masses are. Before he was the iMan, he always figured out how to get to Mass on Sunday, no matter where in the world he was. But it was much more complicated and involved reading paper maps and talking to concierges at hotels, some of whom don't speaka da English so good. Now, all of that information is literally at his fingertips. He just used these two apps this past Sunday, as a matter of fact, to help two of our sons who were on a cross-country road trip and needed to know where to find the nearest church and its Mass schedule.

Now if only he can find apps that will pay the bills, mow the lawn, do his P90X workouts for him...don't laugh, this technology is probably on the horizon. And when it gets here, I know my iMan will be the first to download it.