CATHOLIC BROAD SAYS, WTF?

Many of us have a bad case of the Mondays today. Could be because we have a whole week ahead of us to scrape through? Could be because it was 25 degrees and sleeting this morning when I woke up with trees sheathed in ice. (In February I could declare them beautiful but not on April 16th!) Could be because our furnace had gone off, and the house was 62 degrees?

I know, I know. I am grateful for my house, for warmth, for food and friends, church, family and faith. I wish I had a photo of my dear husband in his bathrobe, wearing his spelunker flashlight on his head to illuminate the dim furnace controls. Being a Geek, he had saved the directions and managed to replace the batteries. Voila, heat! I forget how I take for granted things working--roads being plowed, cars starting, washing machines churning, and so much more.

This time last year, still recovering from chemo and with a short cap of silver hair (a minimalist would have said, Baby doll, keep that! Stop dying those tresses. But one of the ways we recover is by "getting back" what we used to look like.), I had spread composted manure on our raised beds, peat moss, and organic fertilizer, ready for Rick to dig it in. I had arugula growing, having survived the winter when I threw a tarp over it. Who knew?

But this year??? No digging, just ice, a few tentative crocuses, no daffs in bloom. Am I complaining? Sounds like it. So let me share with you a homily from past Saturday's Mass.  Our priest has a grand sense of humor, is very comfortable being at the Ambo, and is not afraid to sing catch phrases of songs to illustrate the Gospel. This reading was of Jesus appearing to the disciples (and please, let us remember that almost certainly Mary of Magdala was with them) and telling them, "Touch me and see...." (Luke 24: 39) And then he asked them for something to eat! Man, that guy was brave. I guess if you have burst out of the tomb and gained a resurrected body, bravery is a cloak you wear. Or maybe no longer needed, I expect.

The point about mentioning the homily is that our priest then sang a fragment from The Doors song, "Touch me, touch me." This is how we are convinced of reality. Or, as one kid said, when he told his mom he was scared of the dark, she replied, "God is with you," "But I want a God with skin on." So do we all, so do we all.

And lest we forget, if a story appears in all Four Gospels, we can pretty much take it as true: that being the feeding of the 4-5,000, and Jesus walking on water. Again, when this happens, the poor disciples in the boat are terrified. (John 6:20) Again, Jesus says, "It is I." Except a new reading I found suggests the Greek word is, "I am." Just as God answers Moses from the burning bush when Moses demands to know whom he is talking to; "I am," God replies.

Speaking of God, it must be time to use up the ricotta cheese in my fridge, make an almond tart with grated lemon zest, build a fire, and go back to the Historical Mystery on my Kindle, "Edinburgh Twilight," by Carole Lawrence, with just a touch of creepiness. Victorian living, cups of tea, shots of single-malt, and more. For surely, I am not walking the Jack Russell today!