What Child is this, who laid to rest on Mary’s lap is sleeping? Whom angels greet with anthems sweet while shepherds watch are keeping? This, this is Christ the King Whom shepherds guard and angels sing Haste, haste to bring Him laud, the babe, the son of Mary.

About the Music 

About the Light 

St Michael Prayer In Latin  

Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium. Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur: tuque, princeps militiae caelestis, in virtute Dei, in infernum detrude satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo. Amen.

Saint Michael Prayer in English 

Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God, cast into hell, Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen. 

Learning Latin Prayers

For me, it's much easier to learn a prayer in Latin when I can match up the Latin word or phrase with the English. This is why I always work on learning a new prayer using a side by side or line by line translation like the one below. 

While it's possible to guess the English meaning of some of the Latin when reading the prayers side by side, other lines and phrases can be confusing. If you use Chrome, you can translate the Latin by highlighting a given word or phrase with the Google Translate add-on (here). If you don't use Chrome just google Google Translate and copy and paste.

Side By Side / Line By Line Version (Latin and English)

Why Pray in Latin?

And Pilate wrote a title also, and he put it upon the cross. And the writing was: JESUS OF NAZARETH, THE KING OF THE JEWS.  This title therefore many of the Jews did read: because the place where Jesus was crucified was nigh to the city: and it was written in Hebrew, in Greek, and in Latin. - John 19:19,20 (Douay Rheims Bible)

It commonly said that the devil hates Latin and, in my own experience with prayer, this is absolutely true. Latin (along with Greek and Hebrew) is a sacred language by virtue of its use upon the cross. It is also the language of the Mass.

The angels love the Mass. For me, attending the traditional Latin Mass with an awareness of the presence of the angels is beyond beautiful. When I drop to my knees for the Sanctus, I can almost feel them hovering, gentle and pure, all around us.

At every Holy Mass, heaven is opened for us and we join in the praise and adoration of the Angels who stand night and day before the Throne of God singing unceasingly, “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty..." Through the perfection of their praise, the Holy Angels can lead us more deeply into this praise of God and loving communion with Him and His divine Son in the Sacred Liturgy. - The Holy Mass as Communio (Opus Angelorum Circular: Advent 2021)

Holy Communion by Angelo Graf von Courten, 1848-1925.

Printable St. Michael Prayer Card

If you'd like a printable St. Michael English - Latin Prayer Card (as pictured below), please check out the new listing in my Etsy shop here. This is folding prayer card to allow for the English and Latin versions of the prayer (85¢).

Front of the St. Michael English - Latin Prayer Card

Inside of St. Michael English - Latin Prayer Card

All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost. From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring; Renewed shall be blade that was broken, The crownless again shall be king. - J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of The Ring

I'm participating in the NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing) for the first time this year.  For those who aren’t familiar, the challenge of NaNoWriMo is to write a complete, 50,000 word novel during the month of November. And I've reached the halfway point and while I am struggling I'm also learning a lot about writing. 

I didn't blog much during November or work on my etsy shop and, while I did manage to get to Mass and say the Rosary most mornings, my focus on my home definitely slipped.  So, I'm happy to go back to writing at my previous pace.

But the main issue that came up for me during NaNo is the conflict I'm feeling about writing any kind of popular fiction.  Before I came back to the Church I had no issues.  Now, I sometimes feel that I'm writing things that conflict with my Catholic faith. 

This is not to say that Catholic authors can't write genre fiction because, of course, they can.  J.R.R. Tolkien managed it.  And lots of people in the Catholic Writers Guild seem to be managing it too.  

So maybe I'm over complicating it.

I may just need to read more Catholic fiction!

St. Hildegard's Visions

St. Hildegard and Holistic Wellness

St. Hildegard's Legacy

Appalachia, On Leaving  

Only rain and streets of wet magnesium. 

These hundred panes are filled with

watered down yellow light. 

But the corners of the shop are webbed

with shadow.

There should be carriages and gas-lights here

but there is only a maroon and gold awning

out there across the street.

The tiny panes run with rain, blur the words,

whatever words

glisten up above that awning.

Plate glass windows and clothes behind.

Kresge's yellow-purple cotton housecoats,

old display cases, nineteen-forties styles,

and every looks so old.

My face, these shops, slip along grey-hound windows

lose their hold

and vanish.

Plans forgotten before the coffee's cold.

Promises I can't forget.

And you within your distance.

Tomorrow is waiting in a shipping crate,

one more highway, one more home.

I can't stop now.

So this time it's Miami, because there's no place left

I haven't been.

I take what was me in two-fisted filthy chunks

and wrench it out.

__________

The postcard above is a the actual view across the river less than a half mile down from my grandparents farm

My Grandparent's Farm, Appalachian Mountains of NE Pennsylvania

"Winter in Miami" 

My grandmother only goes to funerals.  

She will never see Florida 

but she has the world  

in her windows. 

In the morning the river is fog 

and the trees are lost.

Sunrise happens way up high.

It spills down the slopes,

and shines brighter than itself

in the imperfections of old glass.

There is shade all day until 

the sun gets lost in the hills again

and the light come on.

Forever is train noises and headlights

in the dark and every star in the universe

shining out across the fields.

I have been to Florida over and over

until I lost count.

Black seaweed, white sand,

the ocean is always itself.

The whole of humanity sits on towels

to watch it

stretch out of sight.

I wasn't ever there for that.

I was there for the dark days

and the rain.

Days when the wild things

cry out across the everglades

and the black-winged birds

come pouring in from the North

to wage war

upon the backlot dumpsters.

Days when the ocean churns its garbage out

onto cold beaches

and the tourists leave Miami

looking for other 

better places

where the weather is constant

and the sea 

stands still.

Be glad, O children of Zion, and rejoice in the Lord your God, for he has given the early rain for our vindication; he has poured down for you abundant rain, the early and the latter rain, as before.  “The threshing floors shall be full of grain; the vats shall overflow with wine and oil.  I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten...   - Joel 2:23-25

Thanks to my son Josh's tireless genealogical research, I  recently found out Saint Margaret of Scotland is my 20 something-ish great grandmother. So now I love genealogy again. Because, to me, the idea that I might have just a drop or two of the courage and faith of those who came before is very inspiring.

About Saint. Margaret of Scotland 

Saint Margaret of Scotland (Scots: Saint Magret, c. 1045 – 16 November 1093), also known as Margaret of Wessex, was an English princess, a descendent of St. Albert the Great, and a Scottish queen. After William the Conquer invaded Saxon English in 1066, she and her family fled north, Margaret married Malcolm III of Scotland by the end of 1070.

Like her grandfather King Alfred, Saint Margaret of Scotland was a devoted Christian who did many charitable works for the poor. She was known to fast often, possibly to the point that it affected her health.

St. Margaret’s kind-nature greatly influenced King Malcolm. She read to him from the Bible, softened his temper and helped him become a virtuous King. Together the couple prayed, fed the hungry, and were a wonderful example to their countrymen.

St. Margaret was the mother of three kings of Scotland, or four, if Edmund of Scotland (who ruled with his uncle, Donald III) is counted, and of a queen consort of England. She died at Edinburgh Castle in Edinburgh, Scotland in 1093, days after receiving the news of her husband’s death in battle.

In 1250, Pope Innocent IV canonized her, and her remains were re-interred in a shrine in Dunfermline Abbey in Fife, Scotland. She is the patron saint of Scotland. While I don’t think that Saint Margaret was necessarily given a lot of free choice in life, she allowed God to work through her in a way I truly admire.

____________________

The information for this article came from Catholic OnlineCatholic Online and Wikipedia.

 

St. Kateri Habitat Requirements   

Saint Kateri Habitats and Parks should provide at least three of the following elements, plus one religious expression, as follows:

• Food, water, cover, and space for people and wildlife. This includes vegetable gardens, flower and pollinator gardens, patio gardens, community-supported agriculture, forests, farms, rivers, lakes, grasslands, and healthful and safe workplaces.
• Native trees, shrubs, and wildflowers to promote biodiversity, such as milkweed and goldenrod for monarch butterflies. Some non-native plants are good and acceptable, as long as they are not invasive.
• Ecosystem services offered by gardens, wildlife habitats, and natural communities, such as pollination, clean air and water, carbon storage for climate regulation, and the control of invasive species. Religious faith arising from interactions with the “Book of Nature” is an important ecosystem service.
• Clean, renewable energy and sustainable practices for buildings and property, gardens, landscapes, and farms, such as solar arrays and minimizing the use of pesticides and using organic or no-phosphorus fertilizer. 
• Sacred and sacramental places for prayer and contemplation, such as Mary Gardens, prayer gardens, shrines, and rosary gardens. Any garden or habitat can be treated as sacramental by giving thanks to our Creator for his works and gifts.

In addition, at least one religious expression is required, which may include crosses, shrines, grottos, stations of the cross, Saint Kateri Habitat signs, or statues of Mary, an angel, or a saint, such as Saint Kateri or Saint Francis of Assisi. This religious expression reminds us that God – the Holy Spirit – is present and active in every corner of creation.

So as you can see I have my work cut out for me and am still struggling with my snake phobia.  But I feel called to this project and hope that more posts and pictures will follow. If you are so inclined please keep the Mary Garden in your prayers! 

Detroit, Michigan

About this Poem

I wrote the first version of this poem when I was 17 or 18 and, even though I rewrote several years later, it is still awkward.  In many ways, it is, and was, more symbolic than literal.  Because even though it is about the city of Detroit, out of all the cities I have lived in, I probably knew Detroit the least.  

It is true that I was born there but it is also true that we moved to the suburbs when I was still quite young and then to Indiana when I was 13.  Meaning that, aside from the occasional event or shopping trip, I spent most of my childhood in the suburbs.  Things were not, of course, all good winds.  As I think is evident between the lines of the poem.

When I was old enough to drive, I went back and forth between Indiana and Michigan almost every weekend.  I spent most of my time there in closer proximity to the city.  A few years later, after the birth of my son, I moved to the Northeast Appalachian Mountains near to where my maternal grandparents lived. And stayed there.

I never went back to Detroit.  And I never went back to Indiana either.

A Short Dream

Childhood was such a short dream.

Michigan, all good wind and apples

giving way early to Detroit,

The hard city nights chain linked

and dangerous.

Childhood was a dozen ponds,

soft with algae, reed encircled,

one big Rousseaux - with no explanations.

We trouped through the wind-breaker days,

the almost time for dinner evenings.

That's all.

Later there were barbeques

and cousins coming.

Sweet purple and white nights

of wet grass, wide lawns, air and space.

We spun beneath all the pale moons until

we fell drunk upon wet earth,

toadstools, violet skies and Venus.

The Church stood in its own

pale bright light.

Pastel coasts, dark communions 

and a light which said

Eternal Life

But all that I've seen passes.

And somewhere beyond

all that motion

angels

to guide us.

Guiding me

through yellow lit tunnels,

dark houses huddling behind

the street lights.

A clear cold world of dark cars 

and black glass,

A galaxy of light like China Town

at New Year's.

And in the end it was Detroit

that somehow captured me.

In spite of, because of

the rummage sale sidewalks

rain on the windows.

In the end 

It was Detroit.

Empty shops, empty streets

and too much light 

in too much darkness.

_________

Providentially, the end in the poem wasn't the end of my story.

Writing My Testimony

June 2022 update:  I have been waffling about writing my memoir for a long time.  This memory pops back into my memory to remind me that I should.

The Dream

A contractor I apparently knew had told me about a volunteer opportunity.  He said that there was a woman living in a house that was in bad condition and that he, and some others, had been trying to help her.  So I went to see what I could do.

The house was unpleasant.  Not deplorable necessarily but ugly.  I was in the kitchen and the young woman I was supposed to help was complaining.  There were numerous problems with the property.  I remember that there was a 1980s style drop ceiling and some of the tiles were coming down.  Everything seemed flimsy and cheap.  

I didn't enjoy talking to the woman.  She was loud and obviously immature.  She was younger than me. I didn't have a strong sense of her age but she acted like an adolescent or even a pre-adolescent.  I tried to be charitable but I found her very irritating.  It seemed that she was renting and she was very unhappy with her landlady who was neglecting the property.

A little while later, I was at a dinner being held in the woman's honor.  We were seated at a long table under an old aluminum carport next to the house.  I was at the far end of the table.  I had reconnected with an old friend.  In real life, our friendship ended years ago but I've regretted that.  In the dream, I was happy to reconnect with her and eager to catch up.  She looked young and successful, just as I remembered her.

Annoyingly, the guest of honor kept demanding my attention from her end of the table.  She had written several different documents and was insisting I read them aloud.  Someone brought them to me. It was a hodgepodge of old newspaper clippings and pictures and handwritten papers.

I did not want to be bothered with the woman or her requests and kept saying that I didn't want to read what she had written.  I was angry with her for interrupting and insisting I read.  I felt that she was demanding attention she didn't deserve even though the dinner was being held in her honor.

My Take

When I woke up, I was still a little annoyed.  But then it occurred to me that the immature, attention seeking woman might be that part of myself who I don't want to acknowledge - here in this blog or anywhere.  My feelings toward her are so negative that blogging about the dream is unpleasant.

But there is something about all of this that is demanding my attention. 

I don't think it was any coincidence that I felt so much negativity toward the woman in the dream.  Other people apparently realized she needed help but, to me, she didn't deserve it.  I wanted to be left alone with my successful friend instead.  

Looking at the Symbolism

Mary Saying Yes to God

And in the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God into a city of Galilee, called Nazareth, To a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin's name was Mary. And the angel being come in, said unto her: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. Who having heard, was troubled at his saying, and thought with herself what manner of salutation this should be. And the angel said to her: Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God.

Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. [32] He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever. And of his kingdom there shall be no end. And Mary said to the angel: How shall this be done, because I know not man? And the angel answering, said to her: The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most High shall overshadow thee. And therefore also the Holy which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.

And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren: Because no word shall be impossible with God. And Mary said: Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her.  

- Luke 1: 26-38  (Douay Rheims Bible)

You can listen to the SSPX (Society of St. Pius the X) Consecration (of Russia) Prayer as spoken by Bishop Fellay below at 44:19: