A Few Thoughts

Wouldn't it be great if we could count on our Government to act better than the citizenry? I'm thinking of the Feds not allowing prisoner Paul Minor time out to go be with his dying wife. Mrs. Minor died Monday. What was the point of making sure he couldn't be with her?

For a happy Holy Week, listen to Home to Holly Springs by Jan Karon on audio CDs.
Lovely to hear Father Tim and his childhood friends speak. Scripture, beautiful quotes and Grace on a 10 CD set.

In the book, Karon writes about Father Tim, "He liked being in a place where everything from forgetfulness to homicide could be blamed on the heat." Holly Springs is a real town in north Mississippi.

From Mr.C, often quotable, "The difference between art and crafts is art makes a statement, crafts do not."

And from Suz, the Garage Sale Genius, about a poorly told story, " the E.O.H. is missing." (E.O.H. = element of humor).

I'll be AZ tomorrow looking at an unfamiliar desert world and seeing many of you. To those who won't be there, I'll miss you. Next year? Please say yes.

St.Casserole, looking for my phone charger and Mom Jeans

Read The Associate

A friend said to me when I couldn't remember something, "well, you are busy upstairs". Is this why I couldn't recall which year I met Mr.C?


Last night, I wandered toward Mr.C. thinking about how fortunate we are. We've been married for almost 29 years. Our courtship was brief because when I met him, I waited only 6 weeks to ask him to marry me. But did we meet in February of '80 or '81? Somewhere in those days is an anniversary of our meeting.


Mr. C. says it was '80. I couldn't get my mind around that but I know I was the minister for his law school graduation. When was that I asked? December of '80?


This means I prayed over John Grisham's law school graduation ceremony. They were classmates.


I can remember the cute outfit I had on, some kind of Harris Tweed blazer which was right in style in 1980 and preppy enough to hurt your teeth.


As my conversation ended with Mr. C, I forgot about the 29th anniversary of our meeting and pondered why I hadn't put together that I prayed over John Grisham. I've read his books for years.


Which means, as I see it, another reason for all of us to read The Associate, Mr. Grisham's new book.


Yours, but I won't remember it,

St.Casserole

Home safe.

Happy to be with Mr.C.

Cats fine; Dog Nanny tired.

Second Obama yard sign stolen.


St.Casserole

Third Katrina Anniversary

Reprint for the 3rd Anniversary of Katrina


Rewriting the History of August 29th : A Prayer

Thank you for letting me understand homelessness,
living without power, without television ,
without cool air in the heat.

Thank you for letting me understand hunger,
the pleasure of dry clean clothes
and the relief of place to sleep.

Thank you for letting me understand
the deep and overwhelming sadness when forces,
beyond our personal control,
take the loved, the familiar, the usual.

Thank you for my needfulness
andThank you for my newfound empathy
for those were homeless before the storm and homeless now,
for those hungry anywhere,
for those in need everywhere.

Thank you for the opportunity
you provided to help my neighbor,
to be my brother’s keeper,
to serve food, to patch roofs, to clear yards,
and to start mending that which was broken.

Thank you for the chance to change ourselves,
from a reprieve from the normal commercial day,
for teaching us to make do, to get by, to improvise,
for drowning our conceit, complacency, callousness
for silencing the noise ,
for stopping the clock,
and for the chance to act our best when the worst occurred.

Thank you for the people who reached in pulled out the living,
cradled the dead, comforted the broken and torn apart,
wept for the splintered and uprooted.

Thank you for the people who didn’t wait
who came right away, who opened their homes,
who emptied their shelves, their closets,
who cleaned, fed , healed, held us,
who told us our spirit was amazing,and who keep on coming.

Thank you for people who measure
their faith by their actions,
and measure their action
by its consistency with their faith.

Thank you for all the people we have met,
who are new friends, new loved ones,
new brothers and sisters, new neighbors.

Thank you Katrina.
Not for wind,not for water, but for the appreciation
of the things no storm can shatter,
no water can wash away,
no wind can move.

---Written by R. and Mr. C

If you wish the correct attribution, email me and I will respond.

St. Casserole

Great day! Mr. C. and I drove LD to new student orientation at Art School!She's going to fly the nest for her junior and senior years to study theater.We are proud of her but sad to have her leave home early.

The school is beautiful with a combination of old college buildings restored in pleasing ways along with a new towering building of modern architecture. Wish my college had dorm rooms as large and gorgeous as these.Wish I'd had the opportunity to study art in such a place!

She's delighted.We are happy in a proud parent manner with dashes of bittersweet regret that she'll be away her final two years of high school.

Her drama teacher here told her that everyone is accepted to the school.Why he said this,I don't know. Truth is, less than half of those who apply are accepted.

Proud parent here.

Ready to preach the Acts and John passages this morning.

St. Casserole

In a few days, Mr. C. and I will celebrate our 27th anniversary. According to him, the gift for year 27 is sculpture. This stymies the gift-giving impulse mightily. Sculpture? Does the great St. Francis yard statue from several years ago count?

He's given me gifts over the years: making me laugh, surprising me with the variety of his interests, patience, pleasure in my achievements, his steady belief in my gifts as a person. The man has entertained me for 28 years. Not an easy task. If it didn't sound very sappy, I'd say, you, Mr. C. are the gift.

I salute you, Mr. C.! And, I am so glad you don't comment on my bloggage because I can't imagine what you'd say about putting up cats in costumes as the pic for our anniversary post.

St. Casserole

Happy Mardi Gras!

We celebrate Mardi Gras big-time here. Kids are out of school Monday through Wednesday to go to parades, balls and stalk the streets.

The grocery stores are stripped of beer, cokes and King Cakes.

Three parades roll in Biloxi today. One or two in Gulfport, I think. Up and down the Coast people are catching throws at parades, drinking too much and eating as much party food as they can stand.

Some park and walk to the parade routes. Others put RVs on the route then spend the night holding their place. Most of 90 in Biloxi is cordoned off by the police to protect the route. Best seats to see the bands and floats are in front of City Halls where the bigwigs invite the powerful to catch beads, eat and drink.

Our Mardi Gras is smaller than New Orleans and, maybe, a bit quieter. I hope so because the big truck parades and famous New Orleans parades are fun if you have a safe place to view but horrendous if you are in a jostling crowd of drunks.

My favorite New Orleans parade places to watch are either from the front yard of a St. Charles Ave. home or from the balcony of the Boston Club. Here on the Coast, let me have a place at one of the City Hall stands.

Today, my favorite viewing place is right here at home.

I've enjoyed Mardi Gras for many years and this year, I do not give a hootie about any of it.

LD and Mr. C. are out getting new cell phones and trying (again!) to get LD's learner's permit for driving. Last phone call from Mr. C. said they were #120 in line. The last number called was #89. If Mr. C. is lucky, LD will be distracted by the learner's permit and he won't have to take her to a parade. Mardi Gras isn't the setting to let 15 year olds wander parentless at a parade.
Shoot! I don't want to wander without an escort at the parades either~!

Looks like I don't have to worry about this.

We are going to C. and P's to watch the Super Tuesday returns tonight. This means we can miss the night parades, too.

Eat, drink and be merry, y'all. Tomorrow is Lent.

Call me a curmudgeon,

St. Casserole

I've just had enough of about everything. As I told Mr. C last night, "I'm mad at the whole world!" Wisely, he turned over and went to sleep. So did I.

Therefore, I am dipping back into a pleasant memory vault for this picture of the downtown Bailey's Cafeteria in my hometown. We went there with my mother and grandparents as little kids. I believe LLS will remember Bailey's with me. I taught her how to take the ping pong ball off of the top of the water spray in the fountain before adults yelled at us.

I recall happy experiences at the cafeteria except for the time I realized that Mrs. Young, my sixth grade teacher, was behind me at the next table. Not only had I been caught off guard by a teacher straying from her post at the school so that I could be tortured at Bailey's by her nearness but I also had to go speak to her because of good manners. That woman had nerve.

If you think you can cheer me up, I'd do as Mr. C. did and ignore me until my mood lifts.

Here's to a good memory,

St. Casserole

Talking with Widows

All of us in pastoral ministry visit widows. Church is filled with widows.

As a young pastor, I thought that being a widow wasn't too much of a big deal. Men die before women so if you live long enough, you lose your husband. Women must know this, I thought, so they are prepared.

At that time, I didn't know anything about long time love, like being married for decades. Didn't know a thing about the loving meld of a committed relationship.

I didn't intend to be dismissive of widow's grief. I knew nothing about it.

I will have lunch soon with a recent widow. J. died just a few weeks ago. His wife, T., is a friend of many years. Both were in their 70's (is this the New 50's?) with a 50 year marriage.

Pastoral care means visiting with the family before a death occurs, if you can. Then, visit the dying and their family. When you get word of the death, go visit as soon as you can. You may be planning a funeral for the family so you'll want to talk with the wife, children and any family who come to grieve with her. Ask those funeral planning questions.

What I didn't know as a young pastor, and what I know now from observation is the disruption caused by death.

When a spouse dies, the survivor loses the most significant character in their life Story. One day, identity is assured; the next day, all is up for grabs.

Our part of this is to allow the spouse to tell her story as often as she wishes. Some think that bringing up the dead spouse in conversation may be too painful. Denial of death makes grief more horrible. We talk about our spouses and then we are to be silent about them?

Widows don't know themselves after their spouse dies. Some of course are relieved and we must acknowledge and affirm this with them because every death makes someone happy. Perhaps the decedent's physical pain, now ended, causes joy. Or, the spouse was a creep and the widow is free of him.

One of the charming things I observe is how at death, a widow can turn a spouse she complained about every moment becomes A Great Saint. Why not? As long as she is able to heal from death, we may need a few saints. Yep, I said that.

I dread the day I lose Mr. C. His life means all to me and I've been grateful for his presence in my Story from Day 1. At this point, everyone says, "well, he wasn't perfect" and I say, "of course not! who'd want to be married to a perfect human?" When my Story is told you'll hear about Mr. C because, by God's Grace, we've had a love match.

Blessings to you,

St. Casserole