Daily Archives: January 8, 2023

The Holy Family and the Cross

Regular readers will note that I occasionally post stories that simply give a snapshot of my daily life with little theologizing or news analysis. Hey, the subtitle of the page is “Musings of a Trad Dad”. Sometimes those musings are just about the amazing gifts God has given me, namely the extraordinary things I find in the “ordinary” home life I enjoy. Today was the feast of the Holy Family after all, so what better time to capture and reflect on these moments?

First up, Christmas is coming to an end. I don’t mean the Christmas Season. I’m assuming we’re still working off the February 2nd date for that one. But the hullabaloo of Christmas proper is basically over. I like to extend this as long as I can but some things cannot be avoided. Tomorrow, it’s back to the schoolroom with the kids. We’ve eaten just about all the candy in the house (mercifully). Mine is still the only house in the neighborhood with lights up, though. My trees are still up too. In here, it’s going to be Christmas for a few more weeks. Trust me, there will be plenty of time to put all of this behind us in February when Septuagesima arrives. But for now, if you stop by this place, I’d still offer you a glass of eggnog.

My Jack Russell terrier is curled up next to me in bed as I write this. There is no significance to that fact. He’s a dog. They’re loyal. I’m his master. It’s nighttime and that’s when both men and dogs tend to sleep. He’s a terrier so he’s schizophrenic. I’m actually a little frightened at the moment that he could flip and go pyscho on me if I move a limb the wrong way. Pray for me. I am scared. But he’s a good boy.

Bergoglio is still an antipope.

I texted a friend of mine today whom I don’t see often. Inquiring how he was doing, I was told that he has the flu. I seriously thought we eradicated that thing in 2020. I wrote back to him, “Do you need Ivermectin?” His response, “Sure, what’s that?” opened the door to a great conversation. How does one condense three years of memes, conspiracy theories, and the pharmo-industrial complex into one or two pithy texts? Well, yours truly found a way. Before the end of the day I was in his kitchen with my bottle of 1% injectable welcoming my friend to the club. Once again, a huge thank you to Ann Barnhardt for all of her work on this front. If it hadn’t been for her, I would never have heard of the stuff and here I haven’t had so much as a sniffle in two years. As I left his house he thanked me to stopping by and sharing my “meds”. “It’s a work of mercy, right?” I asked. “Isn’t it kind of what we’re supposed to do?” And it is what we’re supposed to do. I have to remind myself never to overlook even the simples works of charity and offer everything to God. Who knows who will be helped by these actions and prayers of ours? Who knows what soul might be freed from Purgatory and then pray aggressively for us? And of course, he is a friend and that’s what friends do.

And finally, speaking of offer things up… A thought struck me this morning at Mass. Maybe it was the orations. Maybe it was the Gospel. Maybe it was the sermon. I cannot say. I think it was the general tone of the Mass. We celebrated the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph at Nazareth. In one of the prayers I was hit with the reminder that God placed me at the head of a family. He gave me the care of a wife and, blessedly, two children. I am to protect them physically and spiritually. I am to teach them, settle their disputes, teach them, give them good example, show them how to love, teach my son how to be a man, teach my daughter what kind of man to look for, and be a consolation to my wife. On that last point, I laugh that this is what she got for “consolation”. Gives a new meaning to the term “consolation prize” I guess. But I began thinking of something a dear friend had said to me several years ago. My wife and I were just beginning to come to grips with the fact that after a quick start – we got pregnant with our son on our honeymoon and our daughter was born 19 months after the boy’s birth – we were never able to conceive again. I’m not going to lie. The kids are both teenagers now. I still pray every day for that miracle, that impossible cause. I would take all the joy and anguish or raising kids all over again for the glory and honor of God and because I love being a dad with all my being. But this friend of mine suggested something to me when we began to realize that the struggle might actually be real. She said, “I think God wants you to offer up this pain as a sacrifice to Him…” It’s what she said next that haunts me. “A sacrifice to Him in recompense for all the Catholic couples who contracept.” I don’t know why those words came back to me this morning as I knelt before the Eternal Sacrifice. And who knows? Maybe He has something truly incredible in store for us. He has NEVER let me down in the surprises department. But I like the idea of taking this cross He’s given me and picking it up and carrying it for Him. I will think of those words from now on when I am at daily Mass.

Just my musings on a Sunday night on the feast of the Holy Family.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I love you!