Mary's Call

    I've been thinking a lot about Mary lately. Mary, the Mother of God, that is, not just a random person named Mary. The feast of the Immaculate Conception was last Thursday, and well, Christmas is coming up, so she's been popping up a lot in my prayer life. For those of you who don't know, the feast of the Immaculate Conception is the day that we celebrate God's greatness in keeping Mary free from the stain of original sin in order that she be pure enough to bear God's son, Jesus. I won't get into a deep theological discussion on how that is possible or what not, but it is a big deal and you should look into it :-D.
    So, when I was in Connecticut this past year I met some amazing people. People who had lived lives fraught with desperate circumstances, dreams that didn't come true, and a true and constant faith that saw them through. I worked at St. Joseph's Residence in Enfield, CT for the summer and if you ever have a chance you should meet some of the people who live there. I highly recommend volunteering or working or just visiting one of the elderly residents there. Now, it's not like a typical nursing home, it's not depressing and you can feel the love between staff, residents, and any visitors who come.
    When I was there I received an amazing little prayer book from one of the residents, and it has helped my prayer life immensely. It's called "Mary's Call: Mary, teach me to pray." There's different reflections and devotions, some of which I'd prayed before, and others that I hadn't. One of the reflections shocked me to my core as I thought of the upcoming Christmas season. [We're still in Advent, silly! Of course it's not Christmas yet, that doesn't happen until Dec. 25th and it goes all the way to Epiphany!] How often do we get caught up in the hustle and bustle of trying to get everything done for Christmas do we end up forgetting what it's really all about?
    Anyway, here to remind us all about what Christmas is really about is the reflection that so touched me, I hope you enjoy it as much as I do, and that it helps you think a bit more about your preparations for Christmas.

  Mary's Christmas Dream

I had a dream, Joseph. 

I don't understand it, not really, 

but I think it was about a birthday celebration for our Son. 

I think that was what it was all about. 

The people had been preparing for it for about six weeks. 

They had decorated the house and bought new clothes. 

They'd gone shopping many times and bought elaborate gifts. 

It was peculiar, though, because the presents weren't for our Son. 

They wrapped them in beautiful paper 

and tired them with lovely bows 

and stacked them under a tree. 

Yes, a tree, Joseph, right in their house. 

They'd decorated the tree also. 

The branches were full of glowing balls and sparkling ornaments. 

There was a figure on top of the tree. 

It looked like an angel might look. 

Oh, it was beautiful. Everyone was laughing and happy. 

They were all excited about the gifts. 

They gave the gifts to each other, Joseph, not to our Son.
I don't think they even knew Him. 

They never mentioned His name.

Doesn't it seem odd for people to go to all that trouble

 to celebrate someone's birthday

 if they don't know Him. 

I had the strangest feeling that 

if our Son had gone to this celebration

 He would have been intruding.

 Everything was so beautiful, Joseph,

 and everyone so gay,

 but it made me want to cry.

 How sad for Jesus- 

not to be wanted at his own birthday party. 

I'm glad it was only a dream. 

How terrible, Joseph, if it had been real.

Mary conceived without original sin, pray for us who have recourse to thee!

Unlikely Stories

   We all get those sappy e-mails, you know the ones. The ones that tell stories of unbelievable goodness and miracles that never really happened. I got one in my inbox today and even though I knew the ending, it still brought a tear to my eye. I can't help but stop and wonder, "What if they were true?" What if people were decent to each other? What if we all just stopped and prayed and something got better for the person we prayed for? We if we took that step into faith and believed that things could be better just by how we treated one person?
   This world would be improved and maybe I'm just being optimistic. Maybe I'm just wishfully thinking, but I want to take that step I want to know what if I were to do one thing? My life isn't easy, my family is facing bankruptcy, I don't have a job, we can barely afford to feed ourselves, we never make all of our bills, and yet I want to do something courageous, something extraordinary for someone I don't know. I am blessed in that I have a home, even if it's drafty and infested with mold and spiders and a myriad of other creatures. I have a family who love and support me. I am luckier than a great many people out there. Anyway, since I can't afford presents this year I'm offering novenas on behalf of my friends and family.
   
   If you, whoever you may be, have anything you want me to pray for, I will, just reply and I will pray for whatever you ask me to pray for. Nine days of intercession is all I can offer, but maybe, just maybe that'll be enough.

Oh and that story that I read that made me offer this? Here it is:

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in

Years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas,

 Just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that

Had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door

Opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers,

Told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger.

"I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't

Much, but it's hot and tasty, "Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back,

" George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front.

The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep

 Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken."

George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead.

"You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside.

 He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked

Around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was

Waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned

And walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck

Has brand new ........" George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone.

The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got

Something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started.

He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for

Something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't

Cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this,"

He said to himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of

His wife's old Lincoln . They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer

Lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the

Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding,"

 He thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop

 Towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix

Anythin," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back.

"These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills.

"You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car."

He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have

Left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I

Ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse

Than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though.

 I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me,

" said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts."

 The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all

your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could

 tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away.

Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too.

Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop,

"we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money,

well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pee shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the

 barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to

his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy

something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my

car got repossessed last week ..."

George handed the gun to the cop. Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then.

 The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop.

"Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee.

"Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun

ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you.

 It just went off. I'm sorry officer."

"Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance

skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?"

one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?"

the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark.

Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?," the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said,

"just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man

 leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there.

That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box.

 "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind.

She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw.

"I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories.

That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were

toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150

that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too,"

George said, "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning

 for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned.

"Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger.

"You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was.

Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to

with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George.
You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry.
The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.
The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists.
The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself.

"That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said.

 "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your

days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George,

I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger

was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."

Merry Christmas

Over-Qualified to Love

    One year ago I was getting ready to graduate from college. I was glad to be done with it and looking forward to actually having a job and money... something that a scholarship student who had to resort to loans in order to pay rent and get food for the last year and a half of her graduate degree had done without for quite a while.
    You see I started out in 2005, that goofy and adorably annoying freshman setting out to set the world on fire. I wanted to be a child psychologist, was engaged, and had no reason for anything to be wrong in my little world. Then classes started. For those of you who don't know what the typical public state college experience is like in this the United States of America, be glad. Those of you who do, you know exactly what I mean. One broken relationship, two semesters of therapy, and three semesters of bad academic advising later I changed my major to Special Education because I thought it would get me a job after I graduated.* I also joined the Catholic Student Union and came to my senses about God's impact on my life.
    I won't bore you about my program of study because I know that it's not as interesting as I think it is. That being said it was a 5 year program, but I would graduate with a Master's instead of a Bachelor's, or I should say in addition to one... My last semester was an internship at a local elementary school and I failed, so I ended up having to physically force myself to go back two Augusts ago to finish my degree, because if I didn't re-intern I wouldn't get any degree. Needless to say it was difficult getting back in the saddle, but I managed to make it through though I decided then and there that I didn't want to teach. I loved working with the kids and I loved working with the staff but I hated to actual job of teaching, because you don't work with the kids, you sit there and attend meetings and do paperwork and consult over students you may or may not even know as to their IEPs, 904 plans and Lord know what else.
    So I moved back in with my parents. I was also discerning a call to religious life at this time, or for those of you who aren't Catholic, I was praying about becoming a nun. I had $60 grand in loans, no job, and I started looking and applying everywhere I could. You can't become a nun with debt over your head. I applied everywhere I could in this one Wal-Mart town, Cracker Barrel, Burger King, Winn-Dixie, trying to do anything but teach. Needless to say I was told numerous times that I am "over-qualified" or that I'll most likely go back to teaching. Do people not know that the burn-out rate of ESE teachers is 3 years?  One retreat with the Little Sisters of the Poor later I decided to apply for their summer employment program to see if that's where God was calling me. I was accepted in Enfield, CT and spent my Christmas/Graduation money on gas and lodging to get me from Florida to there.
    So I had a job, and a place to live and food to eat and I loved the work. I loved my residents. I loved the Sisters. I loved the area. I fit in wonderfully, everyone said they couldn't imagine how they got on without me before. Working and living in the same place is difficult, however, especially when you're basically working 24/7 just being paid for a 40 hour work week. Truthfully I still don't know if I am being called to religious life, but I know it's not with the Little Sisters of the Poor, unless God does something outrageous to make me understand that's where he wants me. So I came back to Florida in September. I've been looking for work ever since, but it's the same story over and over. "Over-qualified".
   Recently I stumbled upon the National Catholic Education Association's website and found out that they need a teacher for 6-12 ESE in Rapid City, SD. It looks like I might be teaching after all, hopefully, though I don't know how I'm going to get up there, may have to sleep in my car and just put my money to use getting gas, not that I have any money to speak of or y'know, use.
    Anyway, I just wanted to say you're never over-qualified to love, you can start by loving yourself and then move up to your family and then even perfect strangers. Looking back I didn't realize just how difficult life on the other side of college would be for me. I think I might have been more scared if I had, but now that I know, I'm okay with it. Keep your heads up future grads, things will get better if we trust in the Lord.


*Anyone looking into Special Education just because 98% of school districts need a teacher should really examine why they want to be a teacher.

Into the Deep

    Plunging into the deep, taking a leap of faith...
    I'm always surprised at how easy and difficult it is to make a change in this thing called life.
I haven't had a blog since I was in high school and truthfully that was mostly me whining about how awful my life was so this is not going to be a repeat of that.
     Hippos don't live in the past. The can hold their breath for up to six minutes, something I wish I could do, but I seem to be getting a head of myself and on a tangent already.
    There is a story behind my blog name... though some people out there might think it cruel.
I was playing Cranium Pop 5 with my best friends Molly and Lauren versus our parents.
I got the clue "Hungry, Hungry Hippos" and decided I would act it out. Now it's like charades, there's no talking, so I started rubbing my stomach and they got hungry.
Then Molly, who had seen the card yells out, "Now point to yourself."
I, not thinking about what she meant, automatically did and then burst out laughing... ah, the joys of college and games you fail at winning. That happened a few years ago, but the nickname Hippo stuck.
     So you're probably wondering what that has to do with my blog and what my blog is about. Truthfully, it's about my journey, my simple life here on Earth trying to find out what God wants of me and for me. I don't truthfully know what that is and I'm out of college with loans to pay and bills piling up to the sky and no job. I am not a deep theologian who knows every issue from the mouth of the Pope, nor am I some backwoods preacher who thumps Bibles all day. I am a simple person living as simple a life as I can, learning day by day how to bake and sew, how to trust in God and myself, and how to allow Him to move me to help others even when I don't feel like it.
     Welcome to The Simple Hippo.