Little Dear

Miriam: "Mummy, I was smiling in my bed!"

Mummy: "Oh, why were you smiling in your bed?"

Miriam: "Because I was so happy I love my parents!"

So am I, dearling, so am I.

Augustine

Today the Church remembers St. Augustine of Hippo. I like this image of "Augustine Refuting a Heretic." Cute, but here is a (rather lnegthy) quote from City of God that, I think, captures what Augustine was all about.

"For God speaks with a man not by means of some audible creature dinning in his ears, so that atmospheric vibrations connect Him that makes with him that hears the sound, nor even by means of a spiritual being with the semblance of a body, such as we see in dreams or similar states; for even in this case He speaks as if to the ears of the body, because it is by means of the semblance of a body He speaks, and with the appearance of a real interval of space—for visions are exact representations of bodily objects. Not by these, then, does God speak, but by the truth itself, if any one is prepared to hear with the mind rather than with the body. For He speaks to that part of man which is better than all else that is in him, and than which God Himself alone is better. For since man is most properly understood (or, if that cannot be, then, at least, believed) to be made in God's image, no doubt it is that part of him by which he rises above those lower parts he has in common with the beasts, which brings him nearer to the Supreme. But since the mind itself, though naturally capable of reason and intelligence is disabled by besotting and inveterate vices not merely from delighting and abiding in, but even from tolerating His unchangeable light, until it has been gradually healed, and renewed, and made capable of such felicity, it had, in the first place, to be impregnated with faith, and so purified. And that in this faith it might advance the more confidently towards the truth, the truth itself, God, God's Son, assuming humanity without destroying His divinity, established and founded this faith, that there might be a way for man to man's God through a God-man. For this is the Mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus. For it is as man that He is the Mediator and the Way. Since, if the way lies between him who goes, and the place whither he goes, there is hope of his reaching it; but if there be no way, or if he know not where it is, what boots it to know whither he should go? Now the only way that is infallibly secured against all mistakes, is when the very same person is at once God and man, God our end, man our way." ~Augustine, City of God, Book XI, Ch. 2

Well done, good and faithful servants!

Louis and Zelie Martin, parents of St. Therese of Lisieux, will be beatified together October 19th!

Philosophically untenable

It's actually quite tragic that any human being lives in such a state of illusion--whether it's self-deception or poor formation or both. More than anything, observing this political race has been an exercise in pity and grief for this philosopher mom.

Creative Minority Report has a fascinating little piece on Joe Biden's view of his Church and its effect on his public life. Even better is Archbishop Chaput's letter to the Catholics of Denver on Nancy Pelosi and so-called "abortion rights." And, yes, when they come out with a Republican who's equally mistaken, I'll post those tid-bits too.

Queen of Heaven

Today the Church remembers Mary as "Queen of Heaven." There's a bit at the end of The Return of the King, when Sam and Frodo are trudging through Mordor, thirsty and exhausted. As Frodo lies down to sleep, Sam looks up through the black smoke and sees a single, silver star thousands of miles above. The star's constancy gives him great comfort: whatever his own fate, there is something good and beautiful that goes on. I wish I had the passage here with me... Mary's beauty is like that star.

UPDATE:

"Far above the Ephel Duath in the West the night-sky was still dim and pale. There, peeping among the cloud-wrack above a dark tor high up in the mountains, Sam saw a white star twinkle for a while. The beauty of it smote his heart, as he looked up out of the forsaken land, and hope returned to him. For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty forever beyond its reach. His song in the Tower had been defiance rather than hope; for then he was thinking of himself. Now, for a moment, his own fate, and even his master's, ceased to trouble him. He crawled back into the brambles and laid himself by Frodo's side, and putting away all fear he cast himself into a deep untroubled sleep."

Isabellissima, carissima!

... can roll over and has a tooth coming! Just further proof to the Philosopher Mom that we were not made for time. We can never acclimate to its passing--swiftly then slowly, always ineluctably!

Missing NH

..this is the picture that made me cry this evening.