"For a few minutes they were mine ... that is enough"

I watched the marvelous Charade with Cary Grant and Audrey Hepburn tonite.

Oh Momma ... oh Momma I wish you were here to watch it with me, on OETA ... we have watched this before, I think, on OETA's Movie Club on a Saturday night like tonite ...

But there's this wonderful scene at the park ... and at a "stamp market" ... when the invaluable set of 3 stamps is discovered ... by a philatelic dealer who is delighted but returns the invaluable stamps to the Audrey Hepburn character. She says to him that she's sorry. He responds, "No ... for a few minutes they were mine ... that is enough."

What a beautiful and utterly truthful expression ....

Oh Lord

Mopmma too ... and Spooky too ..." For a few minutes they were mine ... that is enough"

Oh but I miss them ..

Charles Delacroix
Eve of Sunday 22 in OT

I miss you Spooky

Last night, for the first time, I suddenly realized that I didn't need to leave the door open between the garage and the yard.

Momma and I have left that door open from the time we moved here ... so that Spooky could come in and out of the garage at will.

That's always had a downside of course ... we've had rats in the garage, more bugs I'm sure, leaves blow into the garage.

But we've always kept doing pest control & sweeping up as best we could and took that all in stride as one of the "things" involved in having a dog ... or a dog like Spooky who, let's be honest, pretty much went where she wants ... :-) ... although not inside the house, except on rare occasions.

Of course a major plus of the arrangement was that when Momma couldn't move around very well, the dog could come inside the garage and up to the door from the garage into the kitchen, and she could let her in and fuss over her and brush her and feed her bites of cheese and peanut butter "cookies" - Momma's term for dog biscuits paired and glued together with peanut butter, like oreo cookies.

And like a kid with an oreo cookie, Spooky would take a cookie" from Momma and walk off with it briskly and happily and peel the two halves apart and lick the peanut butter center.

Oh Momma

Oh Spooky

I miss you both so so so so so so so much.

But last night ... last night I closed the door from the garage to the yard. Oh God it hurt but I did it.

I still put out fresh water in the water pan for Spooky ... I just couldn't not put out some fresh water for her ...

Oh God ...

I miss you both so so so so so so so much

And this morning ... I woke up ... and it hit my stomach like a punch ... gone gone gone.

And I caught myself worrying about something I've never worried about before ... or not much.

Namely worrying about the house being broken into.

Spooky ... you see ... when I was away at work ... I knew that you had things in charge ... and I knew you were always a good watch dog ... a good watch dog, as Momma and I said many many many times.

Now who is there to watch over the house? When I'm away. Or for that matter when I'm here.

Only You O Lord

Only You

Oh God

Oh God

Oh God it hurts

Thy Will be done

Charles Delacroix
Eve of Sunday 22 in OT

Stranger in a Strange Land ... and De Futilitates

Such a strange, strange evening ...

I kept looking for you Spooky as I mowed and you weren't there

I kept thinking I've got to be careful not to have both garage doors open ... and risk letting you out ... but did it really matter ...

I mowed and mowed and mowed ... and I kept thinking what's the point ...

What's it matter

What's it matter

I've got to read some more of St Gregory on Job no doubt O Lord

But oh God

Oh Momma

Oh Momma

Oh Spooky

Oh Lord

Oh St John the Baptizer

Your Beheading

Your Martyrdom

Ikon of Our Lord's Crucifixion

My tears for this dog ... what the f*ck does this matter ... O God ... this dog that never did anything to anyone ... Oh God why the hell did she die ... oh God ... John the Baptizer's horrible Beheading had meaning ... Our Lord's Crucifixion had meaning ... me ... what I've done ... I deserve anything, anything at all that happens to down me ... but what the hell did this dog ever do to merit her suffering over the last oh 4 or 5 or 6 months ... she thrashed every now and then in the car as I drove idiotically looking for a vet hospital in the middle of the night ... and I stroked her and begged her and she lay down with her head in my lap ... those dark eyes looking up at me ... whimpering as I cried and drove and drove and cried and stroked her rich, golden, brown fur .... and stroked her forehead as she whimpered looking up at me ... to die ... die ... and now she's gone and nothing but nothing is right ... Momma is gone and nothing but nothing is right ... oh God ... why ... and what is the point of my doing anything at all now ... or ever ...

Oh ... OK ... OK ... I know at some level and at some point and in some way Your Will and Your Providence must be Good and Good and Good ... oh oh oh oh oh though ... I know too that you let Father Job carry on like this far more than me and please lllwo me by Thy Grace the same ..

Oh Lord even now nothing matters but You and You only oh Lord

Only You

Only You

Only You

But Oh God all I feel like doing right now is beating the crap out of everything even You

But Oh God

Oh God

Oh God

I feel like a child in Your Arms flailing away at You and the harder I flail the more You hold me close to You

And tell me that You Love Me anyway

And tell me to hollar and cry and carry on all I want

And remind me that Job did

And Jesus did on the Cross

And oh God

Oh God

Oh Lord

Oh Lord

But ... but Spooky ... but Momma ... !

Oh Lord

Lord Have Mercy
Christ Have Mercy
Lord Have Mercy

Thy Will Not Mine Be Done

Shit

But Yes

Thy Will Not Mine Be Done

Charles Delacroix
Beheading of St John the Baptizer

Tobias, Tobit, Raphael ... and Puccinella ... and Spooky

I visited the Philbrook this afternoon ...

And there ... in that exquisite little work by Puccinella (sp?), of Tobit blessing his son, in the presence of the Angle Raphael ... that wonderful work, circa (I think?) 1300 ... there in the bottom corner, looking on, was a dog.

Oh Lord

Oh Tobit

Oh Raphael

Oh Spooky

It seems that dogs get around very much

And truly are a part of the family ... from way way back ...

I just can hardly believe that Spooky is gone.

I told Aunt Edna, calling her from Woodward Park, where Spooky and I ... and before that, Spooky and Momma and I ... went so often.

And driving there it really felt so very very like the first weeks and months after you were gone last year Momma.

The whole universe feels wrong, feels unreal, feels ... feels utterly utterly wrong.

I just drove up in my driveway and looked over ... like always ... to see if Spooky were lying just inside the gate watching for me ...

And then it hit like a punch in the stomach

I just shook my head and cried and ... I know, I know she's gone but it just doesn't feel like it...

And when I think of her being gone the universe feels utterly utterly wrong ... and everything feels very, very unreal ...

A world without Spooky in it ... like a world without Momma in it ... just makes no sense at all.

It doesn't

It just doesn't

Oh Momma

Oh Lord

Oh Lord

Oh Momma ... Spooky is Dead

Spooky died this morning ... oh Momma ... she died with her head in my lap, as I petted and stroked her and told her that Momma always said that she's the Bestest Puppy Dog in the Whole Wide World

and

that Momma always said, "That Spooky she's just the purtiest girl in town!"

Oh oh oh oh oh

Dead at 14 years ... good, long years of good, good life ... and I frankly agree with Momma ... the Bestest Puppy Dog in the Whole Wide World ...

I hope and pray that Spooky is even now romping and playing with you Momma wherever you are ... maybe she's even letting you brush out her tail and even now is chasing squirrels in Heaven ...

Oh God

Oh God how do people do this

how

oh
oh
oh
oh

I miss you Momma so much

Now with your dog gone ...

oh it's like losing you again ...

and oh how I miss you both ..

Oh God

Have mercy on us all

Maybe it's a good sign that Spooky departed this world exactly 2 days after the 1 year anniversary of your burial Momma ...

And on the Feast of the Beheading of St John the Baptizer ...

As you were born on the Nativity of St John the Baptizer ...

Oh Momma

Oh Jesus

Oh God


Charles Delacroix
Feast of the Beheading of St John the Baptizer

St Monica, Pray for Us

Oh good St Monica, on this anniversary of Momma's funeral, please pray for my dear Momma, and for us all.

I just can't say anything else right now.

Oh Momma

Oh Jesus

Oh God

Charles Delacroix
Feast of St Monica

Moral Commentary on the Book of Job by St Gregory the Great

This is a wonderful resource ... I first ran across it in OOR ... and a translation from about a century ad a half ago is partilally available online at:

http://www.lectionarycentral.com/GregoryMoraliaIndex.html

I just added it to links.

And why not ... can't sleep ... Momma's dog is I think dying ... so who isn't ... oh God ... oh Jesus ... oh Jesus ...what else matters but thee ... nothing else is but thee ...

I love you Jesus

I need you

Oh Momma I miss you so so so so so so much

Oh God

Charles Delacroix
Wed of Week 21 of OT

Dying Again and Again and Again

And again ... oh Momma ... oh God ...

Spooky has had a long, long ailment ... dating back to ... to when ... oh God ... well got worse a few months ago, but really started what, about a year agao ...

And now she gets around so so so so painfully ...

Partly that's arthritis ...

But oh ... her breathing was so shallow tonite ... she just lay in the back seat of hte car after we went to see Momma. She just lay there ... she's out now ... lapped up water ... has had her antibiotics ... but oh ... oh oh oh ...

Lord have mercy
Christ have mercy
Lord have mercy

Charles Delacroix
Feast of St Lous & St Joseph Calancz

A House and a Yard and a Dog ...

Today is the day after the annivesary of my Momma's passing from this world ...

I've been thinking about this and a few other things ... and ... oh Momma ...

First, the night before last I stayed up all night ... cleaning up the house ... not, to be honest, because I wanted to do any kind of cleaning at all ... but because I'm seeking a mortgage in order to buy my sister's half of my Momma's house ... and the appraiser was scheduled to inspect the house yesterday.

So I really worked on things ... and cleaned up ... and in so doing ... moved things that I have been so so so so so reluctant to move ... things that had been sitting in the place they've been sitting ... since you left dear Momma ... since before you left ...

Well I've put some things back ... others not. I know, I know ... it's part of the natural process to change ... slowly ... these things ... but oh it feels ... it feels what ... I don't even know ... as if on the one hand Momma would have wanted me to do ... on the other it feels like another death, another passing, of Momma ...

It hurts

I've been thinking about the yard ... and the yards we've had, Momma, in the past ... the feel of grass under my feet as a boy ... the clover, the "sheep's shire", the lazy hazy days of later summer, like this one ...

And the yard, the back yard, of Henry Poole is Here. What a wonderful movie. But that back yard ... succoed, whitewashed, dry ... so like our back yard in Tripoli, years and years ago ...

Whew ...

Momma I miss you so so so so so so much

Oh Jesus please please please ... take good care of my good Momma ...

I love you Momma

I love you Jesus

I love you

Charles Delacroix
Feast of St Rose of Lima

Anniversary of the Death of My Momma

The following was from last night ... late at night ... the Eve of the Feast of the Queenship of Mary

My dearest Momma died on August 22, one year ago, and was buried on August 27.

I count it as a true blessing beyond words that my mother should have passed from this world on the Feast of the Queenship of Mary, Holy Mother of God.

And that her funeral should be celebrated on the Feast of St Monica, holy mother of St Augustine.

I still hurt and hurt and cry and cry. I can't sleep. What a dark dark night this is. But even now I know that my own tears at my mother's grave come to nothing like the tears of compassion and love that she wept for me. And are nothing compared to the tears of St Monica, who "watered the earth with her tears" for decades, and, by her intercession, gave us the conversion of that great Doctor of the Church, St Augustine. The Reading for the Feast of St Monica, from St Augustine's Confessions, seems to me so very moving, and I've read it again and again and again. It makes me think of my dear Momma.

I know when I think about it that grieving for my mother, like Augustine's grieving for his mother, like Christ's weeping at the Tomb of Lazarus, like the tears of grief that seem awash over this old world, all mean, among other things, that little Charles Delacroix is not alone when I'm crying and hurting on this dark night.

Right now, Christ Jesus is sitting beside me. His Arms are around me, His tears mingling with mine, mingling with the tears of Mary and all the saints in the world. "Laugh with those who laugh, weep with those who weep," says St Paul. Tonite I know ... well I believe ... and when i can't believe I claim the Faith of Holy Church ... in this Faith I know that I am more blessed than I can say as the Church, the Body of Christ, weeps with me; and invites me to join my tears to the Tears of Heaven and the Tears of Earth in sorrow for the passing of all who have gone before us.

Oh God ... it's so dark out. But You know all about that don't You Lord. You knelt alone weeping and sweating Tears of Blood we are told while the world slept. You crept and crawled and stumbled and fell on Your Way of the Cross. Your Blood drenched the parched earth beneathe Your Holy Cross. Your Blood flowed into the dead earth that is Golgotha, into the dead earth that is this world of suffering and that is this vale of tears. Your Precious Blood flowed into the dead earth that is little old Charles Delacroix. Your Precious Blood Flowed and Flowed. In Your Last Conversation you chose to converse with a filthy Crucified Thief whose mortal blood mingled perhaps with Your Immortal Blood on that hard, hard earth. On that Day as the Blood of God washed across the dead earth, a dying mortal Thief Stole Heaven at Your Divine Word as You Shed Your Blood over the whole Dead Earth. Oh God look down on this dying mortal sinner and by Thy Grace allow me, if it be according to Thy Will, to see my dearly beloved mother once again, with You and St Dismas and St Monica and Your Holy Mother, Gateway to Heaven, as you, dear mother, were my gateway to earth.

Von Balthasar says that all who live in this world live in a kind of Holy Saturday. If so then I am stumbling along even now on my Way of the Cross Following You, O Lord, on Your Great Way of the Cross, not only to Calvary, but into Your Holy Tomb, in which You Lay Dead, all day, all that long, long day, on Holy Saturday. And I am told that all who die pass through the Tomb of Tombs, the Tomb of the Dead Jesus on Holy Saturday. Tonight is very, very dark. But honestly I know ... well, most of this dark, dark night I know ... that tonite I am blessed to be with all the Church in the dark Tomb of Christ Jesus.

Tomorrow ... "tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace ..." yes, but the Tomorrow beyond all the dusty tomorrows of this world ... that Tomorrow, Holy Church Teaches me, is Easter Sunday.

But tonite I am Called to kneel weeping among the throng weeping at the Tomb of Christ, the Tomb of all, here in Holy Saturday. It is of course a blessing beyond blessings to be among those weeping at the Tomb of Christ Jesus, the Tomb of my dear mother, the Tomb of the Body of Christ. The Tomb of Christ Jesus this Holy Saturday is dark and silent but Our Lord has been busy ... He descended into Hell, Sheol, and freed all those who languished there in the dark of death. You freed them ... freed me ... freed us all ... and now we kneel in the Tomb of Christ at Your Tomb O Lord, mourning, in this dark, dark, dark night.

The night my mother died ... last year ... she lay ... right here, right in front of where I am sitting right now. As she died, she was with Him on the Cross on Calvary. As her breath slowed, and suddenly stopped, He gasped His Last Breath. And the Dead Christ, laid out in His Tomb, was with my dead mother. She lay on the Bier of Christ, although I didn't know it at the time. I didn't know anything at the time. But fortunately Christ knew. He knew. What else matters. What else really matters but Christ.

And for that very reason everything matters. Even an old woman who lay dying on a cold, cold night. An old woman who showed her son how to live. An old woman who showed her son how to die.

She died alone except for her son ... and her Christ Jesus ... and her Blessed Mother ... and all the saints of Heaven. Alone into the Alone, but she was not Alone.

There's an old monk at Holy Ghost Monastery in Conyers who wrote an amazing long poem called In the Dead Heart of Jesus. It's a sort of meditation ... after von Balthasar ... on being in the Tomb of Christ on Holy Saturday. I kept thinking about this then and keep thinking about it now. If he's right, if Von Balthasar is right, then I was privileged to be with my dying mother in the Dead Heart of Jesus. That the Sacred Heart of Christ could Die, torn and shredded by a Spear on Good Friday, and could lay Dead in the Tomb, before the Easter Resurrection of Christ: what a crushing thought. But then the Cross is crushing. The Cross that crushed God Himself to the earth on the Way of the Cross again and again and again. The Cross that crushes us all. The Cross that redeems us all. The Cross that is the Salvation of the World.

But oh how it hurts. It hurt then. It hurts now.

At least now I know what it is. The Cross. "Take up Your Cross and Follow Me." OK, then. If that's the Way, if that's the Way to Christ, then that's the Right Way.

Oh God. Oh well. Enough for now though. I'm going to try dozing just a bit sitting here. I was exhausted, and did doze, just a bit, a few times, that night. God Who sends His Cross does not fail to send a little relief too it seems. Maybe I can doze a bit now. That night, when I dozed off, God watched. He Watches now too. "Watchman, what of the night?" The Christ Who Closed His Eyes in Death in the Tomb on Holy Saturday, now Watches over all things. If He Watches over all things, in His Loving Providence, why not over me too

In any event, Thy Will not Mine Be Done. Amen. Amen.

Of Your Mercy Dear Jesus, I beseech You to take good care of my good Momma, who took such good care of me.

I would be more deeply grateful than I can say if anyone reading this would keep in your prayers the repose of the soul of my dear mother; and would be grateful for your prayers for little Charles Delacroix on this dark Night.

Love in Christ,

Charles Delacroix
Queenship of Mary

St Clare and Envy and Gratitude and Whackness

I saw the Dark Knight again last night ... instead of The Whackness. I really like both movies very much.

And on this Feast of St Clare all this reminds me that really Envy should have no place in my thoughts or feelings or life.

Let's face it. Life is f'd up. And we're all in for it. No one's exempt. There is Hope: Christ. Christ alone. Apart from Him though: it's all plain old f'd up and hopeless.

Momma I went for a little walk between prayers this morning ... and just North of your grave there's another grave that struck me. A double grave. Husband and wife. The wife died and was buried only a year ago. The husband apparently is still living. Here's the kicker: the wife's birth year was 1956; the husband's 1957.

So he's only a little younger than me. A little younger than my sister. He had a wife. And she's gone. And now he is ... if not alone ... bereft of his life's mate.

Would it have been better if my path was more like his? Better in what sense? To have a wife? And a family? And ot lose them? As I lost you Momma?

I don't know

I don't understand

But I just don't know

If my life had been more like that of St Francis of Assisi?

Or Like St Clare?

Would it have been better.

Probably so in their case ... they were saints ...

But better in the sense of less pain? Less sense of deracination? Of loneliness? Of attacks of the sense of futilitates?

I don't know

I just don't know

O Lord

O Momma

How I miss you

But O Lord

Thy Will Not Mine Be Done

Fiat Voluntas Tua

Oh shit

Thy Will Be Done

Love,

Charles Delacroix
Feast of St Clare

Loneliness and Envy and Whackness

Well, Momma, I'm back from walking the dog.

She's doing better I think ... completed the circuit atop the berm around the basin over by Memorial Drive UMC ... and did OK.

On the way there ... and back ... I kept seeing people ... together: a group of young folks sitting on trucks and cars & shooting the breeze at one house. A man walking with a young child, his son, I guess, on the sidewalk. A couple of dudes sitting over by the basketball court at the school. A family piled into a van. A big family (I guess) watching kids playing.

And oh God ... the old old ache, the old old Loneliness came over me ...

But that's really nothing new is it. The Loneliness the Solitude the Aloneness. The Alone proceeding into the Alone.

Likewise that sense of Disconnect of radical rootlessness. Nothing new.

What is new ... what is so horribly horribly painful since you left Momma ... is that before you were always there. Somewhere. Somewhere in this world. Somewhere there was always one person,. one person who ... who was what? Momma ... yes ... but really the one person who Cared. The one person in this world. O Lord Jesus and Thy Mother and all the Saints ... yes ... this is truly my only family the best family of all really ... but oh who is here for me to give a Coo too. Who to give a foot-rubby-down to. Who to go for walks with like you and I went for walks over in Limberg Forest in Knoxville. Maybe that's what I miss the most. Walking and talking about anything and really nothing and yet because you were there Momma ... it made all the difference.

Now ... now I walk ... and there's no one to say, Listen to that owl or feel that breeze or talk over the houses and flowers we see along the way.

Ah Lord. That's not true. There is You.

Oh Lord. Help me to remember that.

And forgive me ... but O Lord that's still just not the same.

You have and had a Mother. You understand.

But I do not have to truly walk alone do I.

You are with me.

Only You.

Jesu Christus Solus.

Totus Tuus.

Totus Tuus.

Totus Tuus.

Oh Lord

Oh Momma

Oh God

OK ... on my way to see a movie ... probably The Wackness again ... good to just remember that Envy should truly have no place in all this: it's a Wacked world for all of us. The Grass may look greener on the other side ... but that's BS.

I thought of St Dismas. Where is his grave? Who visits and puts flowers there?

No one. In this world.

Everyone. In the next.

O Lord

Just for tonite ... be with me and may St Dismas and Holy Mary and St Vincent and all the Saints be with me as with all ... whether I can see you or no you are with me you are here.

I love you

I love you

Thank you

Charles Delacroix
Sunday 19 in OT

WTF, WTF, WTF

WTF ... strong strong strong sene of Futility tonite.

But I did feel better after going to see you Momma. Oh but how I cried and cried and just kept muttering again and again and again ...

"I don't understand."

Because of course I don't understand.

I don't.

You aren't here.

And I don't understand.

But the goal of course isn't to understand.

It's to respond to the catastrophe with as much honor and integrity and authenticity as I can feebly by God's grace muster.

Oh God though it's so so so so so so so lonely without Momma here.

Loneliness ... Futility ... what do these have to do with Authenticity though.

OK

Ok

I heard an owl hooting at the gravesite Momma ... and O how you and I would have talked about that owl ...

That ... that owl's hooting ... and that knowledge that *if* you were here we would be honoring that owl in our thoughts and speech ... that is what I am choosing to call Authenticity

Just for today.

Oh Momma

Oh Momma

I hurt and I hurt and I hurt

That too is Authenticity.

It is the Cross.

The Cross of Christ

The Cross of little Charles Delacroix

It is Authenticity

Not a bird falls without You knowing and caring Lord

So even this owl tonite ... You know and You care O Lord

O God but how do people get through this how how how how ...

What does that matter

They do clearly they do

Oh Momma I miss you so so so so so so so so so so much

Oh Lord Jesus I beg you please please please take good care of my good Momma

Momma I miss you

Charles Delacroix
Sunday 19 in OT
Feast of St Lawrence

PS I'm going to take the dog for a walk now Momma ... oh how we both wish you were here with us ...

Of Geese and Frogs and Rain and God and Country

Oh Momma ... oh Momma ...

It was so good tonite to see all those geese walking around the cemetery ... just east of you Momma ... oh how you would have smiled to see them. ... how we would have talked & laughed about them ...

I went over east and spent a little time at the Avenue of Flags and the Monuments to the Medal of Honor holders from Oklahoma ... and read the plaques celebrating the history of our Country in Flags.

I read some of the grave markers over there ... all servicemen & women and their spouses ... all, all from your generation Momma ... the Greatest Generation.

I felt so very, very sad .... oh God oh Momma how I miss you ... and I felt so sad that all these have passed ... and at the same time I felt so very, very, very grateful for all of these men and women ... and most of all for you Momma ... oh Momma ... oh Momma ... thank you, thankyou so so so so so so much.

It's raining now ... and Momma I could hear the little peepers croaking in the back yard ... we would have talked about them, wouldn't we Momma, about how much they must love this rain .. and about how Spooky wouldn't particularly like this rain ... "she no like wet," I would say. "No ... she no like wet," you would smile. She's in the garage now Momma ... nice and dry ... :-)

There's a tribute on OETA to Bob Dylan ... with footage of him and Joan Baez and Peter, Paul & Mary ... amazing ... these were in the generation just before me ...

Tempus fugit

Sic transit gloria mundi

I felt so strongly, Momma, that feeling of futilitates ... still do ... but oh ... oh oh oh Lord Jesus ... be here with me now and be the Answer for all of this ... only You ... only You are the answer.

Walk with me and before me and in me O Lord ... I can't stumble down this Way of the Cross if You are not Here & Now to stumble with me ... on Your Way of the Cross you Fell Three Times ... O Lord my falls are many and hard and daily and hourly and more it seems ... be here with me please O Lord ... without You I cannot make it ...

If I make my bed in hell, Thou art there ... Ps 139,8

Then O Lord may I make my bed daily, nightly, in this hell of futilitates ... of a world bereft of Momma ... and of meaning ... apart from thee. In this hell be with me O Lord ...

I love you

I love you

I love you and thank you

Charles Delacroix
St Teresa Benedicta of the Cross
Oh St "Edith Stein" pray for us

An account closing ... and Sancta Maria Maggiore

Last night I finally opened the bank statement that came last weekend for Momma's Estate. The bank account is now at zero. Actually there's some kind of maintenance fee affixed, so it's less than zero. I'll try to get that taken care of this Friday when I seek to close the account.

Oh God it hurts so much. One more closing that shouts the words I hate most to hear in this world: she is gone. Gone.

Oh Momma.

A beautiful sunrise this morning. It was nice to watch it with you Momma.

Yesterday was the Feast of the Dedication of Basilica Sancta Maria Maggiore in Roma. Oh Holy Mary, Mother of God, who has watched over your Church with such maternal devotion and love, watch over my dear departed Momma as well.

Oh Jesus have mercy on me.

Oh Jesus of Your Divine Love and Mercy ... please take good good good care of my good Momma.

I love you.

I miss you.

Charles Delacroix

Bunny Rabbits in August

Momma, I saw one of those cotton-tailed bunnies in the back yard this evening ... munching on grass over by the west fence. I so wish you were here to talk about him. Who else is there to talk to about it. Oh Momma ... oh God ...