The War Between the States in One Week

After we left the mission behind us (but not forgotten and still deeply felt) our purpose was to visit shrines, Civil War site, and friends.  Our two day planned stay in Maryland with friends David and Isabelle, turned into a week and during that week, not only did we experience four shrines, but we also visited five Civil War sites.

The one thing that is uniformly the same, of all the sites we visited, is the stillness that lays on the land.  Children seemed to understand the hush and need for reverence at these places where so many died. The massive number of people that go through Gettysburg on the tour buses understood and felt it too.  There is a quietness that almost hurts.

Manassas National Battlefield Park, located north of Manassas, in Prince William County, Virginia, preserves the site of two majorAmerican Civil War battles: the First Battle of Bull Run on July 21, 1861, and the Second Battle of Bull Run which was fought between August 28 and August 30, 1862 (also known as the First Battle of Manassas and the Second Battle of Manassas, respectively). The peaceful Virginia countryside bore witness to clashes between the armies of the North (Union) and the South (Confederacy), and it was there that Confederate General Thomas J. Jackson acquired his nickname "Stonewall."

Harper's Ferry is a historic town in Jefferson County, West Virginia, United States. It was formerly Harper's Ferry with an apostrophe and that form continues to appear in some references.^[6] It is situated at the confluence of the Potomac and Shenandoah rivers where the U.S. states of Maryland, Virginia and West Virginia meet. It is the easternmost town in West Virginia. The town is located on a low-lying flood plain created by the two rivers and surrounded by higher ground. Historically, Harper's Ferry is best known for John Brown's raid on the Armory in 1859 and its role in the American Civil War.^[7] The population was 286 at the 2010 census.

The lower part of Harper's Ferry is located within Harper's Ferry National Historical Park. Most of the remainder, which includes the more highly populated area, is included in the separate Harper's Ferry Historic District. Two other National Register of Historic Places properties adjoin the town: the B & O Railroad Potomac River Crossing and St. Peter's Roman Catholic Church.

Antietam National Battlefield is a National Park Service protected area along Antietam Creek in Sharpsburg, Washington County, northwestern Maryland. It commemorates the American Civil War Battle of Antietam that occurred on September 17, 1862.

The area, situated on fields among the Appalachian foothills near the Potomac River, features the battlefield site and visitor center, a national military cemetery, stone arch Burnside's Bridge, and a field hospital museum. Today, over 330,000 people visit the park each year.

The Battle of Appomattox Court House, fought on the morning of April 9, 1865, was the final engagement ofConfederate States Army General Robert E. Lee's Army of Northern Virginia before it surrendered to the Union Army under Lt. Gen. Ulysses S. Grant, and one of the last battles of the American Civil War. Lee, having abandoned the Confederate capital of Richmond, Virginia, after the ten-month Siege of Petersburg, retreated west, hoping to join his army with the Confederate forces in North Carolina. Union forces pursued and cut off the Confederate retreat at Appomattox Court House. Lee launched an attack to break through the Union force to his front, assuming the Union force consisted entirely of cavalry. When he realized that the cavalry was backed up by two corps of Union infantry, he had no choice but to surrender.

The signing of the surrender documents occurred in the parlor of the house owned by Wilmer McLean on the afternoon of April 9. On April 12, a formal ceremony marked the disbandment of the Army of Northern Virginia and the parole of its officers and men, effectively ending the war in Virginia. This event triggered a series of surrenders across the south, signaling the end of the war.

Actually table Grant was sitting at.  See painting below.

Actually table Lee sat at.  See painting above.

We also visited Gettysburg but I will leave that for a separate post.

And be sure to visit here this week for more happy times.

Moving Day

A week after Kris and Adrian moved to their apartment, I started to take over her old room.  First step was vacuuming and moving the futon from Don's study to the future guest room/sewing room/photo framing workspace.  The only problem was the event of yesterday.  Illness and eminent surgery equals no heavy lifting for Don.  So my son-in-law and brother came to the rescue whilst Krista and Don  supervised from the front row seat.

 

I am here to tell you that heavy futons and narrow hallways are an exercise in geometry.

Several geometric moves later, the move was accomplished. 

There was no cursing in the course of the effort.  Doorways survived unscathed.  One minor sliver injury occurred.  All in all, a job well done.

Our heroes

The cheering section

The floor supervisors gave instructions from the sideline on finishing touches.

One last test (it held together) and it passed  inspection.  Now lucky me gets to shop for a new futon cover.

Postcards from Paradise - The Healing Heat of Joy

Sometimes we see pictures, hear a song, see something of exquisite beauty and we find ourselves just glowing with joy.  I was feeling especially happy this morning when I happened to run across these two images in my Facebook feed.  The pure JOY was so infectious, I HAD to put them together.

So, why the joy?  Well, to get to that, I have to tell a story.

Yesterday evening was unsettling and these two images were object reminders of faith at work and confirmed.  Don, reformed ornery man (ROM) at times, has reached a state of wisdom where he does not mess around and ignore the state of his body.  Our daughter, Krista, would no doubt disagree with him, but like I would say to her - "There is always room for improvement".

Don, hence for, in this post, to be called ROM, was not feeling well yesterday.  It all started at 8:30 a.m.  Naturally, ROM continued with his plans for the day and finished off some heavy yard work  cleanup after the yardmen did the heavy lifting and transplanting of some bushes from the back to the front.  By 10 a.m., he was looking a little grey.

ROM cleaned up and then laid down to take a nap.  I, in the meanwhile, settled in to watch some episodes of "Rosemary and Thyme" on my laptop (thank you, YouTube) and the day gently moved into quiet mode.  Later, after he woke up, I laid down.  Somewhere in the midst of all of that, I was aware of a couple of things - ROM was vomiting in the bathroom and the dogs, particularly Delly, would not leave me to my rest, but with increasing frequency, jumped up to nose my cheek and lick me.  Tanner joined in from time to time.  By this time, it was 4:30 ish and I gave up trying to get a nap.  Of course, as it turns out I DID get a nap, time HAD gone by and the dogs had finally gotten through to me.

ROM was still pretty grey, if not more so, and he could not stand up straight.  Sitting, he was dizzy.  Laying, the pain became worse.  One more wave of nausea and he was breathily telling me to call 911.  Something wasn't right.  My brain went into frozen mode but finally I figured out that to call 911, I had to actually pick up the phone, not just walk back and forth.

The short story is that ROM had a hernia, a big ol' grapefruit size hernia.  The doctor worked his magic, the pain subsided, and next week we see Dr. Bailey (who did his appendectomy 4 years ago) and arrange for surgery to fix that bad boy.  And, about those pictures; that joy.  Those two pictures totally embody how I was feeling last night with the diagnosis and the temporary fix.  And with that, the brain freeze I was experiencing quickly melted away.  There is nothing like the heat of joy to heal fear.

Haiku My Heart from the Book of James

Yesterday I wrote about the little whisper forcing me to pay attention.  These are the result of my hour with James the Apostle.

James 1: 13-15 - Addicted

God does not tempt us
Evil tempter draws us away
Birth of sin, cold death

James 1: 5 - Curious About God

If knowledge you lack
God's gifts, liberal and free
Ask and you receive

James 4: 13-15 - Future?

13
Make a plan today
Tomorrow put in motion
Put in the work. Earn.

14
Future's mysteries
Life is vapor, dreams will die
Time was not well spent.

15
Say again. Repeat
God's Will, His Will, God willing
Divine gifts pour forth

James 5: 14-15 - Sickness/Pain

14
Sickness of the a soul
Gather in prayer and anoint
Healing blessedness

15
Healing blessedness
Abounding in healing grace
New life is pardon

James 4: 7 - Temptation

Therefore submit to
God.  Resist the devil and
he will flee from you.

James 3: 17 - Gentleness

Prayerful, gentle
Peaceable, yielding
No boon, none mocked

When you ignore that little whisper . . .

. . . it finds a way to be heard.

Since returning home, I've made a list of projects, actions, calls, errands, obligations, etc. that I need to follow up on.  One of the little projects I've not been responding to is following up on the whisper that I need to write a series of Haiku poems based on the Book of James from the New Testament.  I have no idea why this particular whisper has been so insistent or even why James.  I haven't read much of James so perhaps I read a few verses in a daily devotional that made an impact and led me off in this direction.  St. James the Apostle is also associated with pilgrims and it can't be denied that this past year has been a sort of pilgrimage for me.   In any event, the whisper became very, very loud this morning, so much so, that it took matters into its own hands.

I left for Starbucks much later than usual this morning, getting out the door around 10 a.m.  I had my St.
Benedict novena booklet and current reading material ready to go.  I picked up my purse and headed out the door.  A few minutes later, I parked and reached for my book.  Great!  I had left it on the table at home.  Can you say "exasperated"?  Yeah, that was pretty much what I was feeling.

But then I looked inside my purse and there waiting for me was a small pocket edition of the New Testament, Psalms, and Proverbs.  You know the ones; the ones that the Gideons hand out in random public places and fair booths.  This one happened to be found in the church vestibule at Little Rock Air Force Base in Arkansas.  It would seem that the little whisper to write the haiku's was tired of waiting and had put itself front and center.

The rest of the morning was very fruitful.  There were nine haiku's waiting to emerge from the twilight dimness of my mind.  The number “nine” has a great symbolic richness. It is derived from the Trinitarian and Divine number “three” – being “three times three”.  “Nine” is also a number of imperfection because it is one lacking from “ten”.  The number nine is often linked to suffering hence, a novena cycle of prayer is commonly offer for nine days in anticipation of a response to a heart-felt petition.  So, it wasn't lost on me that just as novenas are typically associated with the number nine, I found nine haiku's waiting to come to the light.  Each has their own special intent.  I'll share them in my next post.

Why the Veil?

Since talking about my veil in my last post, some have asked why the Church required a head covering and why it doesn’t now.  The short answer would probably include an exhortation of obedience to sacred scripture and the tradition of the time.  The wearing of a head covering, however, is a discipline; it isn’t and never was a matter of doctrine.  Traditions change and the importance of an action can be lost and can become just habit.  The Code of Cannon Law 1983 ended the obligation of the discipline.

With the obligation lifted and with the changes wrought by the implementations of Vatican II, a more modern way of thinking crept into the choice of wearing or not wearing the veil.  By the time I returned to the Church, the wearing of veils was entirely gone.

From the reading I’ve been doing on the subject and from the few women I’ve talked to on the choice, I’ve learned that the wearing of the veil is very much the answer to a call from the Holy Spirit.  In my case, I was hearing whispers of the possibility long before I actually took the veil back.  When I did, it had absolutely nothing to do with submissiveness to men.  It was about humility before God and my obedience to Him.  The veil covers my head but not my face.  At Mass, I am surrounded by a lightness that allows me to focus entirely on Him while not cutting me off from the community within the church.

I also feel a close attachment to Mary, His Blessed Mother.  She was always veiled and like her, I understand that the veil is a symbol of the different roles of men and women.  I like this distinction.  I like the veil as an outward sign of my special calling, as a woman, to serve Him as He asks me to serve.

I also honor St. Veronica who, when Christ carried His cross, recognized His real presence and gave Him her veil to wipe his face.  He gave her the blessing of His image in return for this act of kindness.

Many people regard scriptural references to women and submission as a negative but these references do not mean that women are less.  Men and women are equal in dignity and value before the Lord.  In a marriage governed by the principle of submission, both husband and wife are called to submission; she to her husband and he to Christ.  Just as Christ loves his Church and would not harm it, so a husband loves his wife and would do nothing to harm or diminish her. 

I’ve had to battle through my feelings of discomfort and self-consciousness as I’m often the only veiled woman in a church everywhere I go.  But six months of veiling has brought me to an understanding of why I have answered this calling.  I love the Lord and I choose to honor Him with this symbol of my submission to Him, my humility before Him, and as a sign of my special place as a woman in His plan for us.  I also love Mary, His mother and our mother.  She is my model of womanhood and whether a woman works, chooses a career, has a family, and often, in our society, is trying to do both, she is the exemplar of strength that has something for all women, no matter how they lives their lives.

I would encourage women of any age to try the veil again but with thought and discernment.  It is a calling and isn’t necessarily something that all women should even try to do.  But, if you are attracted to the possibility, it would not hurt to try it.  I started in the winter when it was cold and in church, I simply did not lower my scarf.  It was a start.  Each of us can find our own unique way if the call is answered with a “yes”.  It’s just a matter of listening, discerning, and then, deciding.

Mornings with Mary - Wearing a Veil

I was eight years old when I received this statue of Mary from my father.  I don't remember the occasion; perhaps we were moving yet again.  Or, perhaps he was going on deployment or returning from one.  Whatever the occasion, I treasure her.

I started wearing the veil in Mass again this passed January.  I had been reading about the movement toward returning to the veil, especially by young Catholic women.  I was attracted to the idea; I never really understood why it became optional and then just utterly disappeared.

I started wearing the veil again quite by accident.  It started during mission in Missouri and it was so cold in January.  I arrived at Mass in gloves, coat, and at least two scarves, one of which was draped around my head. I left it up that first day and it occurred to me that I liked it.  I felt feminine before the Lord, I felt a connection to his Mother.  I felt a connection, as well, to St. Veronica who, on that terrible last day, as Christ carried His cross to His death, recognized His real presence and gently wiped his face with her scarf.

I also felt a whole lot out of place, like I was shining a light in my direction saying, "Hey, look at me".  Part of me felt like I was a real distraction but part of me very much wanted that veil back, so, I took it.  Since then, I've seen a few other women wearing veils, one most memorably at the Basilica of the International Shrine of the Immaculate Conception in Washington, D.C.  I notice a very tall and elegant black woman off to my right wearing a beautiful suit and her head wreathed in a lovely veil.  

As it happened, I had occasion to actually say hello to her as we were both near the same side altar after Mass.  We both agreed that the loss of the veil was something to regret.  There is nothing imposing or oppressive about wearing a veil.  Just as a man takes his hat off inside a church/building, a woman may keep hers on.  It was part of what set us apart from each other and yet made us one and complete.

So now, six month on, I'm still wearing my veil and looking for a couple more. I might even make one.  Now, that would be something.