Tomorrow is the first Saturday of the month of the Holy Rosary!
I can never share this information enough so if you’ve read this one before, please consider sharing the contents. Do not feel compelled to share the post per se. I could care less if people are reading my writing. But the content comes from Our Lady. So tell a friend or several friends. The goal is heaven.
In your fraternal charity, would you also consider praying for my intentions? Thank you in advance.
First Saturday Devotion
In 1925, Our Blessed Mother, Mediatrix of All Grace, revealed to Sr. Lucia that she wished men to make acts of reparation to her Immaculate Heart, specifically in the devotion of the five first Saturdays. Click here for the full list from the Fatima Center, but the act involves confession, Mass, rosary, and meditation. The last one always seems hardest to me as my mind wanders easily.
Madonna and Child, plaster statue, Priory of the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary (Canons Reg. Of the New Jerusalem), Charles Town, WV
For so simple a task – really an act of love – Our Blessed Mother promises so much in reward., not least of which is her sweetest consolation at the hour of death. Remember, in this act we are given to console her. She suffered more for the human race – and for each of us individually – than anyone save her Son. Now she offers to assist us at the most torturous moment of our existence when the soul is torn from the body and appears before her Son in judgment. That terrible day will be mitigated because she will stand by and advocate for us.
This afternoon I began my trek home to the Lone Star State. This involved four people, seven bags, a rental car return, the return of a secondary vehicle is borrowed from a friend (in the opposite direction of the airport, several gin and tonics, and a connection through Charlotte.
When our flight departed from Dulles I immediately noticed that the woman next to me looked out the window and, as the tiny regional jet started its takeoff roll, she made the sign of the cross.
Seventh Sorrow of the Blessed Mother, mosaic on stone base, Shrine of Our Lady’s Martyrs, Auriesville, NY
I knew this was a kindred.
She must have seen me take out my beads because as we w ere landing she tapped me on the shoulder and asked – in broken English – if she could show me pictures of her recent travels.
As I stated at her screen, I immediately recognized the places although I have never been to any of them. The grotto at Lourdes, Notre Dame, abbey churches in England, the Sagrada in Spain… All magnificent Catholic shrines.
Don’t ever be afraid to wear your traditional Catholic faith aloud. You might just be sitting next to a fellow traveler.
Those words were spoken to me by a dear friend today. You see, my family and I were visiting a part of the country where we used to live when this friend’s father died. “Where else would I be?” I asked her. You see, my mother and father taught me the corporal works of mercy when I was a young boy. We had been through a horrible tragedy ourselves. Three of my siblings died in a house fire when I was four. I will forever remember the literally thousands who came out in the snow simply to be with us. I will never forget that. To bury the dead means to support the grieving as they bury their dead as well. I was here. Where else would I be?
Tenth Station of the Cross, bas relief plaster, Shrine of Our Lady’s Martyrs, Auriesville, NY
He’s a Friend
And this got me thinking of other things. Earlier this week, a representative of a large Catholic organization said to me, “That man who runs that Canon212 website is crazy.” He was talking about Frank Walker. I will state here that Mr. Walker and I have never met. He has been kind enough to link my articles over the past few months and I greatly appreciate that. But I appreciate even more his honesty, his grit, and his love of the truth. Before you cast aspersions, remember that I was also raised by my parents to protect my friends. I was prepared to go all Jersey on this man but I held my tongue. “I consider him a friend,” I said. And we left it at that. Frank, if you’re reading this, I got your back.
We’ve Got To Stop Traveling
And speaking of Frank, you may have seen his headline about the hurricane bearing down on his area. If you see this, please offer a rosary for all those in the path of Ian. I was in Florida this summer with my wife and kids. We were in Bonita Springs and Siesta Key. These have apparently both been hit by this monster storm. Fifteen years ago, we visited Galveston and by the end of the summer, Hurricane Ike had ravaged the place. I think we need to stop traveling.
Also, Biden totally blew up the Nordstream Pipeline. Just sayin’…
A quick but all too important thought at the end of this long day for me as I prepare to get my slumber before waking in the morning to attend the funeral of a friend’s father.
Death comes for each of us. It comes when God Almighty wills it.
I remember all too well the bleak January day almost six years ago. I was driving like mad through the spine of the Appalachians trying to reach New Jersey before my father’s imminent demise. Mom called me. I know I-81 like the back of my hand, sadly, so I took the call and almost forgot my driving for a moment.
“I wanted to tell you that your father died a few moments ago.”
It was how she described it that was so striking. “He breathed out a few minutes ago and didn’t take another breath in.” And I instantly hated that I had pulled into that rest area in southern Virginia to catch a catnap a few hours earlier. I was four hours away.
Seven Sorrows of the Blesses Mother, stained glass, Shrine of Mother Seton, Emmitsburg, MD
CS Lewis in Screwtape wrote to the effect that time is God’s. We didn’t create it. We don’t manage it. We live in it and He decides how much of it belongs to us. We get so mad when others “waste our time” or “monopolize our time”. It simply is not ours to begin with.
If you, like me, saw that title and immediately had flashbacks of Charlotte Rae shrieking at Mindy Cohn and Lisa Welchel, then you either grew up in the 1980’s or have a demented obsession with bad sitcoms. I can still hear my late brother Sean. He was a character. In his best alcoholic days, he was one of the most charming and funniest sonofaguns you’d ever meet. He used to take old theme songs and rewrite them in the most ribald and inappropriate of ways. The Facts of Life was one of his best. I’m sorry. I cannot reprint the lyrics here. This is a family-friendly blog.
I was in the great Commonwealth of Pennsylvania earlier today. That’s why I had the song stuck in my head. Well, actually, it was a thought about that state that prompted the song which then got stuck in my head. Let me explain.
Crucifix, Shrine of the North American Martyrs, Auriesville, NY
One of my sisters and I just had a conversation. I promise, I’m not simply starting random thoughts and moving on. She asked me what I thought would happen in November. She was referring to the upcoming mid-term elections. I told her what I’ve been saying for a while. I do not believe there will actually be an election held this November. Call me crazy. Many have. But, I just have a feeling that old crazy Joe and his puppeteers will find a reason to suspend the congressional elections. I could be wrong. The point is, it doesn’t matter if I am or not. Remember the whole “uni-party” thing? Even if the GOP wins a majority, it doesn’t matter. These are the people who convinced us to vote for Romney and McCain.
Another of our sisters lives in Pennsylvania. She has friends who have insisted, for example, that “I simply have to vote for Dr. Oz. I cannot vote for the evil Fetterman.” Don’t get me wrong. Fetterman is perfectly evil. And with the aphasia from the stroke, believe me, Oz looks like he could be a shoe-in. But to say that one must vote for Oz because he’s better than the evil of Fetterman is ludicrous. Oz is just as bad. He tweeted that he fully supports sodomite “marriage” enshrined in law. So I can have a lunatic who wants to release all the felons and also thinks babies should be murdered in the womb or I can have a lunatic who thinks that dudes who like to play with each other’s genitals and call it “love” should be able to make a complete mockery of the sacrament of matrimony. God destroyed Sodom for the same reasons. So no, you may not vote for Oz.
Which brings me back to the facts of life. If both of your options are morally repugnant, you can’t support either one. But we’ve known this for some time. One side got away with fooling us into thinking we could and indeed should support their “less evil” positions for a long time. But I’m done with that. I suspect if you’re reading this, you might be as well.
Last week I had the amazing opportunity to visit the Fairfield (PA) Carmel for a daily mass. It was nothing short of heaven on earth. I am used to visiting a Carmel closer to home and expected to see the customary cloister grill along the back or side wall of the sanctuary. However, at Fairfield the nuns are using a temporary space in a barn while their new home is constructed. As such, the cloister sits above the chapel and a large square in the ceiling is the wrought iron grate. Hearing their beautiful voices wafting down over the Holy Sacrifice as they chanted gave me a glimpse of what the angels must sound like as they perceive Our Lord in the Sacrifice. I will return (perhaps tomorrow)
Today my son and I joined up with the final leg of the Pilgrimage for Restoration. We met other Sunday-only pilgrims at the visitor center parking lot at the Shrine of the North American Martyrs in Auriesville, NY, where we were bussed out to the meeting point. Not only did I run into many friends – this trad world is indeed a small world – I had a wonderful encounter with a woman on the shuttle. She’s from Philadelphia. I told her I was married there. She knows people who went to my wife’s Alma Mater. I mentioned my recent trip to the Carmel. She knows the caretaker.
Then I brought up the fact that a “friend” of mine who happens to run the St. Luke’s Gallery (and absolutely click that link) had mentioned the same caretaker to me last week. Here’s that story…
St. Isaac Jogues, statue surmounting the Coliseum Church, Shrine of the North American Martyrs, Auriesville, NY
The curator of St. Luke’s Gallery had reached out to yours truly a while ago about a post I had written. Although we have not met in person we struck up a friendship via email. Last week I asked him about the Mass times at the Carmel. He responded, “The nuns don’t observe daylight savings time so the mass is an hour later than what you’d heard.” And that, my friends, is the most alpha nun statement of all time.
“We simply don’t do daylight savings time.”
But within minutes, my new friend had whipped out her phone and dialed my other new friend at the Gallery. She handed me the phone and said, “It’s him. Say hi!” And so I sheepishly said, “Hello? It’s Harvey. Happy Sunday!” And we shared a good laugh. I love this guy’s work, by the way, if I hadn’t mentioned that. All of this by way of mentioning a few things.
1) Trad-land is a wonderful place filled with amazing and faithful (and lively) people. 600 of us gathered to walk across the Catskill Mountains to pray for restoration. The solemn high Mass at the conclusion was stunning.
2) The Fairfield Carmel needs your financial help to build their new home. Click this link to buy a hoodie and help them out. I hear it’s only on until the 27th of September.
3) Carmelite nuns are boss.
4) Do not ever be discouraged. If you had seen what I saw this afternoon… Looking out over the Mohawk Valley, I saw brigade after brigade of families – dads and sons, moms and older siblings pushing strollers, even more senior members of our tribe – joyfully walking, praying, singing. Even if we are only a remnant, what a remnant! And…
5) If one more person today had asked me, “So, you’re from Texas? Do you go to Taylor Marshall’s parish?!” I was about tor reply, “Perhaps… or perhaps he goes to my parish.”
Now go click those links and help out some fellow trads.
My teenage son and I are doing something a little crazy today… From our travels in Virginia, we decided – last minute – to drive almost 8 hours to the Albany, NY area to join the last leg of a pilgrimage.
Please add us to your prayers (along with the other pilgrims). I appreciate it.
Folks, I got off all that social media nonsense a while ago. Sorry but I'm not on Twitbook, Facepalm, YouHu, WingWang or any of the others. Maybe an event will happen to make me change my mind like Peter and Paul coming down with flaming swords and commanding it be so. Until then, read the blog and if you feel a comment is in order or you feel like sharing a tip or suggestion for a topic, email me at harvey@harveymillican.com.
Harvey Millican's Blog: Musings of a Trad Dad 