Let Them Eat Cake...Really

Nun Becomes Best-Selling Author With Cookbook

KRAKOW, Poland — Emerging from the quiet of her convent, Sister Anastazja Pustelnik was confronted by a jarring image — her smiling face on posters plastered around town to hawk the cookbooks that have made the 59-year-old nun one of Poland's best-selling authors.

Despite worldly success, Sister Anastazja says all her efforts are in service to God. After morning prayers, she walks every day from her convent to the Jesuit center in downtown Krakow to cook lunch for 20 priests, giving them "strength when they go out into the world." At Easter she bakes each priest a lamb-shaped cake to take on visits to their families.

Read the rest of the story here: http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,533818,00.html?test=latestnews

Blessed G.K. Chesterton?

"If you look at a thing nine hundred and ninety-nine times, you are
perfectly safe; if you look at it the thousandth time, you are in frightful
danger of seeing it for the first time."
G.K. Chesterton

"Blessed" G.K. Chesterton?
Interview on Possible Beatification of English Author
By Antonio GaspariROME, JULY 14, 2009 (Zenit.org).- Gilbert Keith Chesterton (1874-1936) is well known for his clever and humorous writing, and his thought-provoking paradoxes. But he might also become known as a saint, if a proposal to launch his cause of beatification goes forward.ZENIT spoke with Paolo Gulisano, author of the first Italian-language biography of the great English writer ("Chesterton & Belloc: Apologia e Profezia," Ediciones Ancora), about the origins of this proposal. Here, Gulisano explains why Chesterton might merit recognition as a saint...
Read the rest here: http://www.zenit.org/article-26454?l=english

Lessons in Anger & Prayer

“Anger is only a natural reaction; one of the mind's ways of reacting to things that it percieves to be wrong. While anger can sometimes lead people to do shocking things,it can also be an instinct to show people that something isn't right.” (Anon)

A personal admission: I detest working on household finance. It is a world of mystery, intrigue and sabotage. More than once I have admitted that I am powerless over this stressing task and that my situation has become unmanageable. I blame this more or less on the fact that my father never taught me how to balance a checkbook before I went off to college. I realize that this is a lame excuse, but an excuse nonetheless. Efforts of trying to correct course and right the ship are usually met with many good intentions and poor follow through, however I am a work in progress and God loves me enough to send me back to the classroom of humility time and time again.

One such excursion was last week. Having reached a point of powerlessness and unmanageability once again, I turned to an expert in the field: a financial planner who, I assume, among other things, will help me to arrive at a financial plan and keep us on track with our elusive family budget. This is not the first time I have thrown up my hands in despair, but I am certainly hoping it will be the last. Ellen is a lovely woman. She is no-nonsense, direct, conservative, traditional and BORING (and I mean that in a respectful and good way). She does things with paper and pencil and refers often to her own former spending foibles. She is also on to my husband's Tommy Bahama habit, so this means that I like her a lot. I don't know if I buy her "seeing that extra money in the savings account is more fun than taking that Rome vacation" line however I am willing to delay my gratification in order to give her the benefit of the doubt.

So why do I quote anger at the top of this entry? BECAUSE I spent the better part of Friday and Saturday following Ellen's directions. Adding entries to her splendid spreadsheets, copiously compiling additional supportive dollar signs and bearing my financial soul to a complete stranger only to lose it amongst my 50,000 directories on my hard drive. It was nowhere to be found. The irony is that I have MANY folders and files named "finance", "budget", "expenditures": these are the wreckage of my past endeavors to reign in the family spending machine. They reside gleefully in my hard drive sort of like artifacts from a sunken treasure ship at the bottom of the deep blue sea. But, ya think I could find the priceless pearl that was only created a day ago? Nada. It is lost. Hopelessly missing. Gonesville.

The 'losing of things' usually sends me to a bad mood rather quickly. In this case, it was my brain sending a signal to my gut via a conduit of adrenaline that the problem will be solved by throwing said pc out of nearby window. By some grace, I was spared this urge and alternatively was reduced to sobbing and utterances of the word "why...". This episode illicited a reaction from my 12 year old. He is a brave boy. He actually entered the (den of fools) office and chanced to offer some consolation.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

Thru tears..."missing...can't find...all that work...gone".

Putting his arm around my shoulder...."Mom...", asks Jake, "Did you pray?"

-------

The dark side of me offers a 1 minute subconscious rebuttal...

"What did he mean, did I pray? Of COURSE I did not pray. I mean, c'mon. I am in the midst of my drama. What could praying possibly do but knock me off that horse that is so fun to ride?? Besides, the adrenaline rush is sooooo exhilerating! Pray. Peeshaw."

And now the Conscience overrides the dark side with the only action worth a darn: "O Lord, please help me find my stupid missing paperwork that is gone forever." or something to that effect. And then I walked away.

2 hours later, I decided that I would backtrack and create an entirely new document. Just for grins, I pulled the most recent 'Ellen' document and tried to "Save As" to a place that I would remember. It went to a temp file location on my drive. Guess what else was there? The document that went missing. Prayer answered.

Why do I share this with you? There are only three possibilities:

1. To demonstrate that I clearly have more work ahead of me in many areas of my life

2. To illustrate that wisdom & clarity can & does issue from the mouths of 12-year olds

3. Go to prayer first: it will save you 10 minutes of angst

*Footnote: It is honorably mentioned here that I learned as a pre-Christian, a prayer that my Grandma Phillips taught me. If something has gone missing, simply cross both legs and ask God to help you find it. As a Catholic, I learned that Grandma's prayer was the Methodist version of the "Tony, Tony please come round, something's lost that must be found" request. Bottom line, I know St. Anthony is behind this whole thing! Thanks be to God.

God speaks in Prickly Pears & Ragged Rock Flowers

Even in literature and art, no man who bothers about originality will ever be original: whereas if you simply try to tell the truth (without caring twopence how often it has been told before) you will, nine times out of ten, become original without ever having noticed it.
C. S. Lewis

Okay, so I'll try something profoundly unoriginal, here...

Some of my most noteworthy thoughts arrive in my head where neither pen nor paper can be found within a radius of 10 miles. I hiked Pinnacle Peak last week on a beautiful summer morning. I was enjoying the scenery and the serenity when I stumbled upon a couple of desert dwelling cactus wrens feasting on the fruit of a prickly pear. Laying on the trail, the bright orangy-red fruit-pear had burst open revealing its contents which, upon closer examination, resembled beluga caviar. The birds were taking turns pecking at, what I assumed to be, the breakfast of bird champions. I've lived in the Sonoran Desert now for nearly 15 years and I continue to be amazed by the stark beauty that enshrines this environment. The birds and the fruit? My reminder that God is abundantly provident, supplying the needs of man, beast and foul with his bounty.

The Pinnacle Peak Trail is a short, non-loop trail in North Scottsdale which spans 2 small mountains...one is, you guessed it...Pinnacle Peak; a distinctive peak depicted in most of the real estate east of Pima Road and North of the Loop 101. In total, average hike time to complete it is about 90 minutes if you're movin'along. The trail is wonderfully maintained and is peppered with educational signs of the local flora and fauna. I usually ignore the signs (story of my life?) and continue walking, blissfully unaware of the great education that could be had. The hike of last week was a little different; I did notice one sign in particular. I was paying attention after the birds and what drew it was a very hearty little plant growing out of a rocky crevice. I've seen bouganvilla doing this along highway concrete barriers too and have always been perplexed by the tenacity of the plant to survive in what would seem to be impossible conditions. Upon closer examination, this particular plant had a cool name: Ragged Rock Flower. I googled it and found that it grows on steep, north-facing mountain sides or within deep narrow canyons across southern Arizona, often growing straight out of crevices. It has showy, often fragrant, white flowers with five petals. It is one of the most beautiful shrubs of the Sonoran Desert.
Seems to me this is yet another lesson. I know some people who remind me of this plant. They seem to have graduated from the school of hard knocks (or at least take up seats on the board!). Yet they keep plugging away despite hardship, danger, toils and snares. I admire these people. They seem to be more detached from the fluffly things of earthly existence and thrive in an environment that is more interior. Like the plants, they must have strong "roots" that go down deep into the mineral content of the rock strata. They must be able to sit still for long periods of time and absorb things that might be hard to comprehend. They have learned that they can rely on the sturdy rock, to supply their needs and shield them from the buffets of the winds & storms and from animals that might try to pilfer their tender shoots and leaves as they struggle to survive in what might seem to be some impossible terrain. From the outside, it might appear that our Ragged Rock Flower doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell of survival. However that's just the problem. We're on the outside, seeing the problem, identifying the difficulties. Perhaps we need to have an interior perspective. One that looks from the inside, out. From this vantage point, we might be able to witness a little of the micro-universe where God also reigns.

Psalm 18: 33-37
This God who girded me with might, kept my way unerring,
Who made my feet swift as a deer's, set me safe on the heights,
Who trained my hands for war, my arms to bend even a bow of bronze.
You have given me your protecting shield; your right hand has upheld me; you stooped to make me great. You gave me room to stride; my feet never stumbled.

You Cannot put the Ca-Ca back into the Donkey