What I learned in Junior High with only two weeks left to go....

I may  have said it before, but even after 40 plus years, it is nice to finally be one of the most popular girls in junior high.

                                    Things I learned with only two weeks left to go...



I don't like going to school but I love my job.

Making my boss laugh is a worthy goal and easier than I thought it could ever be.

Only other people with dead mothers can play dead mother jokes. Trust me, it is a bonding thing.

People can still betray you...don't take it personally. It really is not you, it really is them.

Lincoln logs float when boys don't flush.

Laughter is contagious even more than the flu.

Ed was right, there is something funny about EVERYTHING.

I am not the only Mamma Bear.

People have already made up their mind. Don't hurt yourself trying to change it.

The practice of others in the past can only be undone by the Truth. It may take time, but it will still set you free.

Sometimes, even the most skilled nurse is helpless when only armed with band-aids and ice packs.

Secretaries are still the heartbeat of the school....they know ALL!

Manipulation is not that hard to pull off.

Having a secret nickname for EVERY teacher is funny.

Small souled people will try to use you, don't let them.

God is the God of all, even in places He isn't suppose to be.

I pray in school everyday...so there!

Wheelchairs can snap in half...it can happen.

A Health Office can be a little like Heaven....you need a pass to get into the Health Office and Jesus is your only pass to get into Glory....Okay, nothing alike. Thought I would stretch that one a bit.

Sometimes the only medicine needed is a listening ear and a hug. 

I can still be unkind in my heart even if my words don't say it out loud....Willing to be re-made...because I must be.

Being disrespected as the mall cop of nursing is not defining unless one lets it be. I know who I am in Christ~~~I can't wear my nursing cap to work because I am saving my scalp for the crown I get to wear in Heaven. Good to be a part of the Royal Family... No one gets to define you except your Heavenly Father...I thought everyone knew that. 



I am pretty sure I learned more than this but seriously, who has time when the fan on the computer has died and I am afraid to keep on it.

One last thing, Showing up to meet the One who is waiting for me EVERY morning, changed everything. His Mercies are still new EVERY morning.

 

Missing the old country...

Holy Week. Sigh....

Growing up Roman Catholic, there were rules I followed. I don't remember going to Holy Thursday mass as a requirement as a kid, much less Good Friday and we all but never went on Holy Saturday for the Easter Vigil. I think Mom went to some of it but it is not a clear memory.

What is clear to me are my late teens and early twenties when I sang in the choir at St. Mary's in Mt. Vernon. We would practice for months on end to be a part of the Holy Week celebration. It was nothing short of spectacular.

From Holy Thursday and the door left open on the tabernacle as we left the church in silence, to the humble Veneration of the Cross on Good Friday, to the endless scripture readings, lighting of the Easter candle, and spectacular joy of belting out "The Gloria" on Holy Saturday night. The sights, the sounds, the smell of all those magnificent flowers....No one does The Tritium like a Roman Catholic.

Truth be told, we were often slightly hung over for the Easter Sunday Mass because we all went out to celebrate the end of Lent on Holy Saturday night. There was this one time my friend Sue and I...never mind.

I  miss it. I miss knowing what to do on these Holiest of Holy Days. I miss kissing the cross on Good Friday at 3pm and feeling as though the day was perfect if it was pouring rain on such a day of solemn devotion. I once pulled up to the church on the hill as the Dolly Parton song, "He is alive!" was playing and thought I had just heard the most perfect song, for the most perfect moment...ever, especially from a none- RC.

I miss knowing what each symbolic element of the Mass stood for. I miss preparing for the Holy Days with each outfit....being a girl means preparing with a wardrobe: jeans were fine for Good Friday but not so much for Holy Thursday and certainly not for Holy Saturday....and the Easter bonnet was just short of the prep work for Easter Sunday.

I miss the package that is the Tritium and how it called one to look....look at the Cross, the agony, the pain, and eventually the empty grave. I loved the pride of being an extraordinarily good Catholic. I was so proud of it. My faith in Christ was laid second only to being the very best Catholic. Oh how I adored it all. I was very good at something and it was being Catholic.

Of course, there in lies my biggest failure you know. My denomination and all the rules, that I knew and understood by heart, had in fact become my god. The governing body of my faith, made me an excellent member. There was nothing I didn't love about The Church. I never believed that none Catholics were not going to Heaven....they just missed out on the fullness of the faith because they didn't have the saints and the sacraments. They (the left footer, Protestant types) were only getting a half a glass and you had to admire what they were doing with that half glass.

It has been well over a decade ago that I left The Church...maybe I left in the beginning because I wanted other Christians to share my faith with and I was living in an area that I could not find anyone to share Him with...Yeah, that had a lot to do with leaving. As time went on though I couldn't marry The Word with all of the Traditions. I found along the way that while I am excommunicated, so are most Catholics. Both the Council of Trent and Vatican II never reversed the teaching that unless you submit to ALL the teachings of The Church, you are already excommunicated. Think priests should be allowed to marry? You are out. Are you using even none-abortive birth control methods? You are out. Pretty sure you can tell God you are sorry for a sin with out the benefit of the confessional? You are out.

Last time I checked, the thought police and the birth control police of The Church are not standing  in anyones home, looking for a way to kick you out. The Church pretty much works on the honesty system. That system requires The Truth in order to function.

The Truth...there in lies the rub. I can't be Roman Catholic. Once in a while, my kids will wish we were because the traditions are so very beautiful. And we live in NY for crying out loud, just about the entire state is Catholic.

I have known more sold out for Jesus, Roman Catholics than you jan begin to imagine. I've also met some nice conservatives in the Protestant world. There are saved Catholics just like there are condemned Protestants. I've long realized that just because someone says, "Lord, Lord!" does not make them a Christian  in any way. You can go to daily mass and never encounter the living God just as easily as you can do every Beth Moore bible study known to woman and there is no proof you are believer.

So this week, I am like a man with out a country. I feel like an immigrant who longs for the old country, even while I know it is no where I will ever return to. I sometimes fear my children will return, in spite of the hard work it took for me to leave. I wish we Protestants had more ceremony with our Truth. Some of it was so spectacular. I felt like I belonged to a very important Body. Now, I just don't know what to do during the Holiest of Holy days. The kids want to go to the drive in tomorrow night to see Frozen and Captain America...it feels so wrong. But am I any more right to have them put on sack cloth and ashes on Good Friday?

There is not a conclusion to this post....I still don't know what the answer to my longing is, except to rest in Him. He is my all and all. He died on a cross for me? The worst of the worst. Me, a sinner who deserves nothing short of the fires of Hell...He died that horrific death, for me. And because He rose out of the grave...I am alive in Christ. All the trappings are stripped away and I am left with just a God who saved me.

Maybe being left with "just" that is the conclusion.

Everyone needs an Annie. You should so get one....

Dear Frick,

I was just tenderly recounting to my beloved that we don't get our daily chat in anymore. All the years you commuted home we chatted, via cell phone, while I made dinner for first one, than two, and eventually five. We would go a year or more with out seeing each other but we were all caught up for sure! Now I am working full time and you part...what a switch! Not bad, just a new season...it got me waxing poetic about a friendship that has out lasted every social media trend, hair style, and just where jeans land on the hips.

You tell the tale of how my mom painted me as a saint in your CCD class and you expected this goody-two-shoes to have wings and a halo when we met on the public bus to Our Lady of Victory Academy...you quickly found out that my wings were bent, my halo crooked and you were not at all sure which side I was an angel for! For my part, you were a "public" (code we Catholic School kids called public school kids) therefore, I knew you could kick my arse...you could, as I would find out around a Christmas tree many years later, but I diverse. As a public, I had a healthy fear and respect for you...we would so not be friends. That much I knew for sure.

I don't remember how we wound up at the mall together or who talked to the cute guy from Dobbs Ferry High School first but we were friends from that moment on. We found more adventures than I think we should haver...wild for sure, we were! What was the name of that club? Camouflage?

 Somewhere between the things that break up a friendship, be it life, a husband, a job, a kid, an argument...whatever that moment is, that creates a drift that shows one a life is still quite full when a friend is no longer a part of it, never took root in our lives.

Why are we still friends? Mommy B. and Rosey.

Did you know that if I swung by your house and you weren't home, Rosey would sit me in the kitchen and chat with me? She would ask about how mom was, ask me what I was going to do, usually tell me to knock it off about something and remind me that my job was to take care of her. Sometimes you would come home, sometimes I would finish my tin cup of whatever and head home. She showed me what hospitality was...I had rarely seen it before your home. I have never doubted that I was welcome...I still know I am.

 Mommy B ADORED her Annie. Actually, she called you Annie, I just followed suit. She prayed for you and your joy and your life and for Paul when he came along. She prayed for our friendship and your folks and for your sister, Susan, and even for Billy when I was his CCD teacher...she prayed when your Grandmother had to bury her son and told me to ask how we could help, all that time on the vent...she prayed for her Annie. She had a heart well beyond the classroom for you.

We have loved each other, hated each other,  forgiven each other, offended each other, teased each other, and held back each others hair...There is little we have not been big or little about.

We had moms who loved us both...and they were willing to put aside what ever we had done to wound each other...extraordinary woman our moms!

In the last year, you have shown me a part of Mommy B that I didn't understand before. I am so humbled. Thank you...you healed a something I didn't know was there...and I hope that I have shown you what a Savior can do in a life that is wounded. He knew, before a single star was hung or named, that this season would come...He knew and so He gave you a testimony to rest in...that He is God and He knows what He is all about. You have chosen to trust the Greater Hope and for that, He is greatly pleased..  For my part, I could not be more proud of you....nope, just thought about it again, and I am proud of you for sure!

Just heavy on my heart these days girly. Growing up with you has been like having a sister with out the wardrobe drams...well, most of it. I did take those pleated, pin striped jeans that I never gave back and have you seen my turtle neck with the ice cream cones that you borrowed for Halloween in 1984? Never mind...Susan still gets John when I am gone. You get to know that we may be trouble together this side of Heaven, but just you wait to see the adventure we will have together in Glory!

Just call out my name,

Frack