SSPX

Does anyone know anything about the Society of St. Pius X? I've heard they're schismatic but they insist that they are not. However, they must not be unified with Rome:
Vatican Has Replaced Faith, SSPX Bishop Charges
Any info would be appreciated! Thanks!

Oh, P.S. : Check out this scary website:
http://truecatholic.org
I believe this is a sedavacantist site.

Tiny Shoes

"Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you..."
--Jeremiah 1:5

When my littlest brother Jim was about three years old, Mom went through his baby clothes and began discarding what wouldn't fit him anymore. She came across a tiny pair of hardly-worn boys shoes and stopped, looking at them tenderly.

"Here," she said, tossing them to me, "you may want to keep these for your little ones."

I was a freshman in college at that point, with no real intention of having children anytime soon, if at all. Besides that, I was always the girl who had trouble being patient with small children (they all seemed so illogical!), and I detested babysitting other people's kids. At fifteen I had decided I didn't like family life and would never get married, though of course through the course of the years, God softened my heart to it. But as a college freshman, the thought of the pitter patter of little feet was a long, long, long way off.

Still, I kept those little shoes. I brought them back with me to my dorm and tied the laces together and hung them from my bunk bed. Somehow, they always avoided the garbage pile and survived the many moves of college from dorm room to dorm room. When I lived off campus my senior year, I unpacked everything and found those shoes again, and hung them from my book case.

They really were adorable little shoes, and part of me probably kept them for decoration. But I always knew, in the back of my mind, despite the hard patches in my heart, that I was saving them for someone.

When I moved into the house in which I currently live, it took me several weeks to unpack. But eventually, out came those little shoes again--those darling little shoes. I was to be married in a year, and somehow, that future pitter-patter didn't seem that far off. I hung the shoes from the bookcase again.

Last week, I was arranging the nursery with my husband. There appeared in front of me those little shoes again, and I finally put them in their proper place--a small drawer of shoes and socks for our unborn baby boy, Thomas. Finally, the someone for whom I had been saving those little shoes for all those years was on his way here!

As I placed those tiny soles away in their proper place, it hit me that I had always had Thomas in my heart and in my mind--inscribed there, so to speak. Even before he was formed in my womb, God had been preparing me for him. And I know that even now, before his birth, God has already consecrated him (Jeremiah 1:5). And that is why I kept those tiny shoes for all those years.

Memorial Mass for Terri Schindler-Schiavo

Hi gals,
Mom wanted me to spread the word about a memorial Mass for Terri Schiavo to take place on the anniversary of her murder, March 31st at 8pm at St. Patrick's Church in Largo. I am sure you all remember the case, but here's a refresher. Please note that it is all from memory, and for more specific facts and details, please see www.terrisfight.org.

Over a decade ago, a beautiful young woman living here in our own backyard suffered a cardio-respiratory arrest that left her without oxygen for several minutes. Foul play is/was highly suspected, though no one has been charged. Though she survived, Terri was unable to move or to speak. She was awarded over $1 million in a malpractice suit--money that was supposed to be used in her therapy and geared toward her gradual recovery. However, her husband never allowed her to have any therapy (in fact, he didn't even let her have her teeth cleaned in over ten years, and her parents had to get a special court order to have the blinds open in her room!!). Terri was put on a feeding tube, though no swallowing tests were ever administered to her to see if she could eat on her own.

If memory serves, it was about six or seven years ago that Terri's case began to get nationwide attention. That occurred when her legal guardian and husband, Michael Schiavo, petitioned the local court to legally have her feeding tube removed with the intent of ending her life. Terri's parents were fighting against this, but at the time we heard of the case, they had exhausted their funds.

At this time, my parents, who founded the prolife Professionals for Excellence in Health Care group, asked the prolife lawyers of the group to take on the case. Two wonderful lawyers (one of whom is now deceased) took up the case in Terri's defense. Over the years, nine neurologists testified that Terri was not in a persistent vegetative state and could possibly swallow. My father himself examined Terri and gave similar testimony, noting that since she swallows her saliva, she could probably handle other soft foods. Other evidence that Terri was not PVS was overwhelming--like the videos of her smiling and interacting with her mother.

Judge Greer refused to acknowledge this evidence and testimony and continued to side with Michael Schiavo in all of the rulings. Finally, last Easter, everything came to a head. The final appeal had been launched; the Supreme Court of the United States refused to hear the case, despite President Bush's statements that Terri should be kept alive. Her feeding tube was removed. Outside of the Hospice where Terri was imprisoned, people set up camp. A 24-hour prayer vigil was launched; Sean Hannity broadcast his television shows from those very grounds for almost two weeks; children were sent to jail for trying to bring cups of water to the starving and dehydrated woman; people came from all over the country to fight for Terri's life.

I went to pray at the Hospice every night after work, and was always amazed at the spiritual battle that was being waged. Policemen stood guard around the perimeter so that no "activists" would try to enter the building. When questioned, most of the policemen disagreed with the starving of Terri, but were forced to act as guards. Then there were some who "volunteered" to act as watchmen in this vigil of death, to keep those "dang prolife wackos" away.

I remember vividly when two men decided to oppose the prayer vigil with pro-death signs. My Mom was holding a crucifix and went and stood right next to the men. One of them began to immediately look uncomfortable, especially when we began to pray the rosary and to sing hymns. He eventually left, but his "friend" remained, yelling and screaming. Eventually, he stopped yelling, and started to stick out his tongue and spit at the crucifix. Satan was definitely making his presence known. Soon after that, a reporter came by to interview the man, but the crowd drowned him out by singing Catholic hymns.

Anyway, I could go on and on about the happenings at the Hospice during those 13 dark days. We prayed our hearts out for a miracle, but God's plan included Terri's martyrdom and not her miraculous recovery. After thirteen days of being denied food and water, after thirteen days of being in anguish and suffering the cruelest and most painful death imaginable, Terri died on March 31, 2005. I remember being at work when I received the news, and I burst into tears. I felt like my very own sister had been murdered.

But this was not to be the final tragedy. Michael Schiavo, who for many years while Terri was alive was living with another woman (whom he has three kids with), was allowed to marry her in the Church this year. This travesty is being investigated by a team of Canon lawyers, who are seeking to oppose it on the basis that a crime was committed by Schiavo against his spouse Terri. Please pray that justice is done.

Ok, sorry for the long post and all the rambling! Terri was a brave woman who endured much suffering in this life. Let us remember her especially on the anniversary of her death.

Take a stand

Fr. Frank Pavone has informed us via his article on catholicexchange.com that today is a day set aside by abortion promoters to encourage abortion providers to continue to offer their "services;" it's a day of praise for abortionists and their nurses, a day to applaud murderers. In retaliation of this, I have decided to make today a day when I can, in my free time, revisit the reasons why I am prolife and why abortion is wrong, and rekindle in my own soul the passion and sorrow that have lead me to a life of prolife activism.

My first step in this reflection was to read the article, then check out the Priests for Life website. On the website, Fr. Pavone aptly points out that "America will not reject abortion until America sees abortion." If you click the link, you will be taken to a page where you can view images of babies developing in the womb as well as graphic images of aborted babies from the first trimester to late-term. I forced myself to look at every image of the aborted babies, and tears were streaming down my face. I felt very close to the wounded heart of God, because I could see the works of His hands torn to shreds in rivers of blood. I felt so drawn to His pain and told Him, "I am so sorry for what they have done to all of your masterpieces. How can you stand it, Lord?" All of those little, beautiful people, ripped to shreds...My heart just cried out to those children, "Why was this done to you? I would have loved you! I would have kept you!" I wanted to adopt them all.

It was good for me to look and to cry, and to be wrapped in the wounded Heart of God. I think many times we can forget the horror that plagues our world. 4,400 babies die every day from abortion, and since 1973, more lives have been lost from abortion than the combined number of fatalities of all modern wars. Yet sometimes, even we who "fight the good fight" with our prayers and our witness can forget the depth of the pain, horror, and injustice that is going on in our world so casually. Behind those abortion clinic doors, blood is being spilled. Hearts are being broken. Lives are being lost. Souls are being seared with guilt and anguish. Christ is being crucified, and the unborn with him.

Before I was trained as a sidewalk counselor in college, Sam and I would go to pray every Saturday at the abortion mills in Pittsburgh. While praying the rosary, tears would just stream down my face. I could feel in my soul the spiritual battle that was being waged all around; there was a profound sense of evil and pain, and I could hear the babies' screams with my soul's ears. I cannot describe it in words, but it was such an intense experience every time that my body would be completely weary and utterly spent after a few hours, and I would go home and rest and sleep all day. I felt so embarrassed that this kept happening to me, and I wanted in my heart to have the strength and fortitude to be a sidewalk counselor, to be able to share the truth with women and men entering the mills. But to do this, I had to get past the tears.

So I prayed, and in a few weeks, I felt like that grace was given to me. Now when we would go to pray at the mill, a spirit of resolve and a desire to speak out filled my heart and soul, and I no longer cried or felt as intensely the raging battle. I knew God had helped me to move on to the next stage, so I was trained as a counselor along with my (then future) husband.

Everyone is called to serve in the prolife ministry, and each person has his own method of doing so. Some pray at the clinics, some counsel, many pray for the ministry in their own private prayers at home, and many write letters or volunteer at pregnancy care centers. Thank you for the way in which you serve God and His little children. You girls are great!

Today, when the pro-abortion side is having its day of "praise" for murderers, I encourage you to look into your own soul and become renewed in your own personal resolve to continue to fight this fight until it is over. God will not cease to bless you or your efforts.

2b a Gardener

This post is sort of an add-on to Laura's, but not really a comment to it. I loved our talk about Genesis and the creation story, esp. the creation of Adam and Eve, and their Fall. The creation of woman, man's helpmate, is so completely romantic that it always sets my heart a-flutter. Their Fall, however, has always made me upset. So many times I think, "Gee, that rots. I didn't do anything. Why do I have to suffer because of them?" As Mom always says, and as I will inevitably say to Thomas and future children, "Life isn't always fair." I don't think I will ever understand the mystery of why the sins of our first parents and their consequences are passed on to us, but rather than get angry about it now, I like to think of ways to "get away" from the Fall and back to the Garden.

After all, Christ Himself helped us to counter the Fall and its effects--He took our sins upon Himself so that we would have eternal life with Him. One thing I love so much about Christ is that He has deep respect for the way things were "in the beginning"--the beginning of that great romance between man and woman, that romance between God and His children, that romance that He is even now still tending and nurturing.

Though we are fallen children, I think we are called, like Christ, to look at the way things were "in the beginning." Christ's Passion and death restored us to our prefallen state as children of grace. That is why, in our corrupt world, we can attain a level of transcendence of the things of the earth, and see the kaleidescope of light that is visible only in the life of grace. If we look toward "the beginning," we see how our lives were meant to be, and we see how we can live them by looking at Christ as our model--even in our fallen world.

We women, then, are called to be man's helpmate and companion--bone of his bones, flesh of his flesh. We are taken from his very ribs, and therefore are naturally drawn to be by his side. But what are our duties? Adam was instructed to tend the garden; was not Eve then to help him do this? Man and woman were meant to be helpmates and companions, but also gardeners.
I look around this world when driving to work, and I admit I don't see much of a garden to tend. It's all concrete and blacktop, buildings and houses. So how are we men and women supposed to be "gardeners?"

The garden we are all called to tend is a spiritual one, but it is also visible in many ways. In the married state, we are called as parents to tend the garden of souls, the garden of our children. Each and every little soul is a fresh flower awaiting the water of Truth and the sunlight of God's grace, and without good gardeners, these precious flowers will not blossom the way God wants them to. How could St. Therese, God's "Little Flower," have ever blossomed without the care of her loving parents, or become a beautiful blossom fit for the King? As married women, we offer our children, our flowers, to Christ; as religious, we offer our own souls' blossom to Christ and we pray for all of God's children; in the single life, we are called to tend various gardens of souls, ranging from the sick and the dying to the people we work with. In tending our gardens, we too give our lives for our neighbors, we die to self, and are renewed in Christ.

I think it is important that we all recognize and rejoice in the "garden of souls" we are given to tend. Laura, think of your beautiful children, and what a garden they will be! Think of what would happen if that garden were to never grow, and how sad God would be at that! Also think of that handsome fellow gardener, whose helpmate you are meant to be, and I think you will realize that the vocation to which you are called is a marvelous one indeed.