Non nobis, Domine, non nobis,
Sed nomini tuo da gloriam. Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but to Thy name give the glory. It has been said that April is the cruelest month, and we have noticed that our St. George festival, held as closely as possible to the saint's feast on April 23rd each year, is sometimes marked by the wickedest of spring storm weather. We have fond memories from a couple of years ago when our entire party had to flee indoors in the middle of the St. George play being performed outdoors in the gazebo - on a day when we had already been dodging rain-showers to narrowly accomplish the obstacle course - the sky to the west suddenly turned black, thunder and lightning cracked everything asunder, and friends and family scooped up babies to run indoors as a torrential wall of rain came rushing across the field to devour us. It had happened at a pivotal moment in the play, so in the end it was a beautifully dramatic touch! This year, we drove to Mass in a thunderstorm, and while we had forewarned everyone of the day's potentially poor weather and expressed our understanding for all the rain checks, we were going ahead with the gathering rain or shine. We petitioned heaven that the rain would at least cease by the time the party would begin, willing to run and play in the mud even if it was overcast and cold. What we were not expecting was that the rain would not merely cease but that the sun would come out, and that it would turn out to be one of the most beautiful days ever. All of the trees and flowers were in bloom (most of them white - a wonderful and cheerful and hopeful spring scene) and the green leaves and white blossoms shone in the sunlight, and the mud was really not so muddy. The gathering was small in number but big in joyfulness, as the happy change from rain, grey, and chill to sunny, breezy, and near-perfect affected everyone's moods. We really could not stop commenting on the unexpected good weather! As in years past, the St. George festival is meant to give honor to one of our favorite saints, the penultimate knight in shining armor, and all for the glory of God. We model after St. George, praying for an increase in courage to battle the daily foe that threatens all that matters most in the world, particularly the purity and innocence of our children. We lay out an obstacle course that spans the property and involves a race through the woods and creek, axe-throwing, arrow-shooting, and spear-throwing. In the final stretch runners have to carry a pine-pole-spear up the long drive and around the house to the mulch-pile finish line, thrusting their spear into the small mountain, our dragon, shouting "Christus Vincit!" Later we put on a little play of the story of St. George, and hand out blessed saint medals to the day's winners. The play always ends with the singing of Non nobis Domine, marking the theme of the day, "Not for our glory, but Yours, O Lord." We are grateful for good friends who join us on these occasions and for simple joys. May God's Word remain hidden in our hearts so that our days will remain so blessed, and may we continually seek and find His powerful protection against every storm!
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VENI, Sancte Spiritus, reple tuorum corda fidelium, et tui amoris in eis ignem accende.
On April 8th, the day of the great solar eclipse, our family had the most wonderful gift of having four of our six children (three sons and a daughter) confirmed together by His Excellency, Bishop Fellay at the SSPX Chapel we have attended since last year. The sacrament and the occasion was more momentous than the eclipse and marked all of us, the confirmands and those who love them, in a way that will last a lifetime. The eclipse we had anticipated with excitement for some time. After traveling a little north in Georgia to witness the full solar eclipse of 2017 - an incredible natural phenomenon the sight of which we will not soon forget - we had immediately made plans to view the next one, making "reservations" with friends who live in Ohio so we could be in the path of totality for the great event of 2024. Once we discovered the Confirmation date fell on April 8th - the Feast of the Annunciation - we also unhesitatingly broke our "reservation" for the eclipse viewing and put all prayer and energy into preparing our children for the sacrament. Our youngest son is also receiving his First Holy Communion in a couple of months, and so it has turned out to be a very big year of graces for our whole family. We couldn't be more grateful. The day before Confirmation day we had our First Sunday gathering of April, with a Carnival theme. Instead of bidding farewell to meat, as we did last year before Lent, this year we bid hello to meat to celebrate Easter. We prayed a rosary, had a proper feast, and played many, many carnival games to the delight of old and young alike. There was live music and folk dances in the gazebo on our new portable dance floor - and the weather was perfect and the trees had all just burst into bloom and so the ambiance was charming and the scene could not have been better sketched by the Divine hand. And while we spent Monday making ready for our big evening, pressing suits and shirts and dresses, there was just enough time before the long drive to the church in the late afternoon to step outside and view the weird light and shadows made manifest in what was for us a partial eclipse - the farm animals were seemingly hushed, the sky and landscape grew dimmer, the shades thrown by the trees looked unusual - the air had a slightly shimmering quality - and though we had no instruments with which to view the eclipse proper we still experienced the moment in wonder. Then, we embarked on a most important journey, driving long to arrive early, waiting in great anticipation for everything to begin in a standing-room-only chapel (the aisles and halls were filled) where upwards of 100 souls were to be confirmed. Bishop Fellay's homily was so replete, extensive, instructive, inspired, and inspiring. We were all awestruck and surprised in the best of ways - never before had we encountered a bishop so full of zeal and who takes his mission to teach so seriously. It was clear he could have gladly talked for hours - in fact he nearly did - about the history of our faith, the source and meaning of the sacraments and the graces they bring, and how they work in our lives. He summarized the mission of the persons of the Trinity in a way we could all understand; everyone left that church catechized. He made clear the special, specific, and singular work of the minister of the sacrament. He imprinted the Confirmands, surely - but just as surely he marked all those in attendance with a deeper understanding and love for the Church instituted by Christ, a deeper gratitude for the love and mercies of Our Maker, and a desire to receive graces and live according to the workings and gifts of the Holy Ghost. Afterwards, he lingered long and condescended to let everyone kiss his ring and have a photo taken with him, gracious and dignified and cheerful and feeding our souls each second. We lingered long also after the Vigil-like experience, and did not return home until after midnight. Words fail to describe the whole experience, but for a parent there cannot be many greater moments of fulfillment than witnessing your child receive a sacrament from a good bishop. We watched them all grow in knowledge and virtue and in love for their chosen saints - St. Lawrence, St. Cecilia, St. Nicholas, and St. Patrick (orate pro nobis!) - over these last few months and prepare in mind and heart for all that culminated on this past Monday night. The experience is not only a beautiful consolation but a font of much needed strength and graces in this life of great spiritual battle. Bishop Fellay stressed explicitly that we are engaged in battle, and that the Lord has provided our armor and our weapons; we may experience sweet mercies in our life of faith, and we may be called to the utmost self-sacrifice and even martyrdom - the latter for which Confirmation, perfecting the graces received in Baptism, especially readies us. May God protect the holy priests and bishops upon whom we depend, and bless us as His creatures. May Our Lord save us, and Holy Mother Mary teach us to follow His will as she does, and lead us ever closer to Our Savior! Come, Holy Ghost, fill the hearts of Thy faithful, and kindle in them the fire of Thy love! Arise, make haste, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come.
For winter is now past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have appeared in our land, the time of pruning has come: The voice of the turtle is found in our land: The fig tree hath put forth her green figs: the vines in flower yield their sweet smell. Arise, my love, my dove, my beautiful one, and come! ~ from Canticle of Canticles He is Risen, Alleluia! We have happily arrived at the great Feast of Easter after the long and penitential season of Lent, glorying anew in the reality of our salvation through the Lord's magnificent sacrifice. Lent, the spare time of going without, of giving things up, of taking on more and growing through prayer and good works in humility and virtue is - ideally - a fruitful time not only since it draws us closer in our weakness to our Maker, but since it culminates, the great preparation that it is, in the glory of Christ's Resurrection. Today a child asked, "Do you think today was a good day?" This came after a long and glorious Easter Sunday. After a momentary thought, we decided that Easter Sunday is good no matter what - it must be, and if it seems not so in some way that must be because of human error. But it was a very good day - bursting with life and the enjoyment of good things and of course revolving around the beautiful Mass that extols and celebrates most fully the Risen Lord, the pinnacle facet of our faith. As well, nature sings the song of new life, with spring springing all around in all the creaturely ways - the fields and trees are green with budding life and flowers sing with the birds and humming bees. Here on Holy Saturday, despite the somber nature of the day, the sky was a beautiful and nearly piercing windswept blue, clean and clear and bright and making the perfect backdrop for wheeling martins and the high swaying branches of green-topped trees. The spring climate stands in contrast to the weeks building up to such Easter joy - winter felt long and cold and heightened the depravity of the penitential season - as it should be (a gift and a help, indeed) - and the last gathering before Lent was on a stormy day that tested the hearts of all of us. Our Scottish themed gathering in February (in honor of Robbie Burns) was at once a rain-out and a resounding success! Our family had begun the weekend by setting up a little canopy in our small historic town's square by the old courthouse and, with a Scottish flag hanging and our crew all decked in kilts, we regaled whoever was interested with a round of Scottish folk songs and poetry recitations. We didn't have our winning oldest children with us, but we sang and played with gusto - and one of our younger sons entertained with the diablo, a spinning wheel that is tossed on a string between two sticks held in hand and which keeps the wheel spinning (or tossing high, as the case may be). It was freezing cold and we had a great time and we earned our first dollar, placed in the open banjo case by a passing child. The next day, the weather promised to be terrible and it was, but we didn't cancel the gathering at the farm and in the end the storm created a passel of brave souls of good will who bonded with us in the cold and rain to pray and eat and toss cabers and stones in the rainy field, and then bustle into the house to gather around the fire and sing songs. It was a very good time - and in its way related to how Easter must always be good no matter what, because it is. Even when our second goat delivered her babies - she had two little bucklings - and we lost one, it was a good day. We cherished the life of a helpless little creature for thirty-six hours, doing everything we could to try to help it survive, and then had to accept that it just wasn't meant long for this world. The tiny thing wasn't a person, but it gave us an up close, intimate glimpse at God's handiwork, and it was beautiful and worth the pain of our temporarily upended little existence for that short while. We carried that experience in our hearts through Lent and continued to see God's handiwork in a new way through the ups and downs of our days, learning to give and learning to be humble and learning, most importantly, that life is short so why not do our best? Now, though, we have two adorable bounding-growing baby goats and are beginning to try to learn how to milk their mothers (more on that another time...it is a patient and ridiculous and seemingly fruitless - though indeed in the most important ways most fruitful - labor). And, as said, the world is springing all around, we have much good work to put our hands to, and it is difficult not to simply feel hopeful. And Easter is finally arrived, and it is good, and we are filled with abundant joy and hope for certain since He is Risen, Alleluia! |
Fatima FarmOn this little homestead our family aspires to work the land and hand on the Catholic Tradition, walking in wonder and learning to live by the fruits of our labor, in honor of Our Lady of Fatima, who guides us to Him. Archives
April 2024
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