…or my husband, or anybody capable of wiping bottoms, buttering toast, and chasing toddlers. One hour post ibuprofin, and my temp is still over 102. I just want to crawl under a rock. Splitting headache, chills, aches, and I think I have an ear infection.
Monthly Archives: March 2009
Archbishop Chaput on Catholic Political Vocation
Long, but excellent text of a speech:
“Tolerance Is Not a Christian Virtue”
One of the words we heard endlessly in the last U.S. election was “hope.” I think “hope” is the only word in the English language more badly misused than “love.” It’s our go-to anxiety word — as in, “I sure hope I don’t say anything stupid tonight.” But for Christians, hope is a virtue, not an emotional crutch or a political slogan. Virtus, the Latin root of virtue, means strength or courage. Real hope is unsentimental. It has nothing to do with the cheesy optimism of election campaigns. Hope assumes and demands a spine in believers. And that’s why — at least for a Christian — hope sustains us when the real answer to the problems or hard choices in life is “no, we can’t,” instead of “yes, we can.”
Lamentations
Although I weigh myself most mornings, it is only once a month that I record that number and about a half dozen body measurements, since inches mean more than weight (or so they say).
Compared to last month, I am down 4 pounds. Nice.
Except those measurements tell the truth I already suspected. The size 8 jeans are still just a bit snug. Where were those 4 pounds lost? Hips? Thighs?
No. Alas, I lost them on my chest.
{sigh}
And what do stem cells have to do with the economy anyway?
Stem cell decision exposes religious divides:
Princeton University politics professor Robert George, a Catholic and another member of the Bush-era Council on Bioethics, said the moral argument over embryonic stem cell research is not rooted in religion but in ethics and equality. He said research shows that an embryo is a human being in its earliest form of development, so we have to ask ourselves whether all human life should be treated equally, with dignity and respect.
“I don’t think the question has anything to do with religion or pulling out our microscope and trying to find souls,” George said. “We live in a pluralistic society where some people believe there are no such things as souls. Does that mean we should not have moral objections to killing 17-year-old adolescents?”
I’m a bit shocked that Princeton University, home also to infanticide-promoter Peter Singer, permits a pro-life professor on their roster. Or maybe he’s the one guy in there so they can call themselves “diverse.”
Over and over and over again, I hear the refrain that “we’re not sure” when human life begins. So, of course, naturally, we’ll err on the side of caution and protect that fetus, right? Wrong.
Over and over and over again, I hear the refrain that we need to “relieve human suffering” and that these embryos are “unwanted” and would be “destroyed anyway.” Yet most of us would cringe at the thought of the elderly, enfeebled and on life support, being treated like a commodity.
If we can not treat all human life with dignity, then we can not expect such treatment for ourselves. None of us has the right to classify any other human being as inferior. And yet, when you set aside this basic tenet, that each human life has equal worth, and begin to rank people, born/unborn, healthy/unhealthy, young/old, man/woman, able-bodied/handicapped, you quickly become an oppressor, no better than Dr. Mengele, willing to use other people for your own personal gain whether that be money, health or fame or some other personal pleasure.
Either you think it’s ok to use people, to treat people like a natural resource ready to be exploited, to evaluate someone’s worth based on how productive or useful they are to society, to agree that a majority vote is acceptable in determining which basic rights any human gets to retain, or…
…you think that each human being is endowed with certain inalienable rights, to include life and liberty, and as such should be afforded with basic human dignity to include respecting their bodies both in life and in death (we do not simply heap people in mass graves unless urgently, medically necessary).
And if you think that all human beings have an equal worth (and Peter Singer does not), then you better be erring on the side of caution. It is only for the humble to equate themselves with a “clump of cells,” but the inverse of humility is pride, and if you choose pride, remember when you find your own intrinsic worth in question (and if you live long enough, you will eventually get to “old age”) how you treated your fellow man.
Mini-Me, Mini-Mom
“What’s the matter?” I cooed at the baby as I extracted her from the high chair. She was covered with her dinner, apparently had had enough, and didn’t much care that I was not done eating.
As I whisked her off for a necessary bath, I heard my three oldest children give their opinions.
“She’s just tired,” said the sage 10 year old.
“She has been pulling at her ears,” reminded the clever 7 year old.
“She’s cutting molars, too,” offered the wise 9 year old.
Well, if one must have four mothers, it is good that they are ready to make excuses for you.
Note to Self
If your previously hectic schedule seems suddenly open, it’s because you’re forgetting something.
Cream of Tomato Soup
My “Holy Cow that Soup Dinner is at 5:30 not 6 pm – 15 Minute Cream of Tomato Soup” Recipe:
1. Open Joy of Cooking. Read the simple steps of making fresh tomato soup (chop, saute onions, simmer tomatoes for 25 minutes, puree).
2. Close Joy of Cooking (but keep it on the counter for encouragement).
3. Open pantry. Find 2 cans of condensed tomato soup, one big can of crushed tomatoes with basil, and 3 cans of diced tomatoes with garlic and onion.
4. Dump soup and crushed tomatoes in large saucepan. Add 2 or 3 cans of milk. Turn heat to high. Stir.
5. Dig out food processor. Puree diced tomatoes until they look good. Add to saucepan. Stir. When hot, put in pre-heated crockpot. Serve with Ritz Crackers with Roasted Vegetables.
Warning: be careful not to walk away to put shoes on your three year old lest the soup boil and burn.
Serves: not enough. There were no leftovers.
Alas…
…it is still very hot in hell. Which means I didn’t make the short-list.
The kids are terribly disappointed. But after Bill hastened to remind me of my deep-rooted fears of falling out of planes into crocodile infested waters, I’m okay with it.
Now, instead of running around like a crazy woman thinking about passports for 7 people, wardrobes appropriate for lounging on the beach all day long, and who carries the best brand of footwear that can transition from light hiking to strolling through the surf, I can relax and turn my attention to less stressful topics like when I should go visit my parents this summer, what Latin program I should use with a reluctant learner, and how Bill and I can make the best use of the little time he has left before deployment.
What a relief!
Snow day
Washer washing.
Dryer drying.
Doors: open, close, open, close, open, close, open. “CLOSE THE DOOR!” Close.
Dishwasher full of chocolate covered mugs. “Can we have more?”
Birthing mittened hands through coat sleeves.
White footprints melting on wood floors.
Puddles near the doors – on the inside.
Piles of sopping socks.
Rosy cheeks. Busy children. Tired mom.
Reit This Way 