For 7 or 8 of the last 10 years, my family has vacationed with two other families, the Herrys and the Gladharts. They are dear friends from Metairie and we enjoy our annual time together, laughing, sharing food, drink , faith and opinions on all things sublime and profound.

(vacation group last Christmas)

For most of our years, we’ve gone to Gulf Shores AL. The gang really enjoys laying out (not me) and we gather in the evening for meal and card playing. Simple but it works for us.

In Sept. 2004 Hurricane Ivan ravaged the coast of Alabama so last summer (2005) we tried out annual ritual in Biloxi.

I started to get a complex…the last two places we’ve vacationed have been blown away by hurricanes! And then when the decision was made to do DISNEY WORLD, I thought “Oh no! I don’t want that place being destroyed because we chose it!”

We did choose it, mainly because of the children…Meg and her teen friend Gabby Herry like the rides but more so for the two little Gladhart children. And it was worth it.

Sure… I don’t like long lines, hot sun, amusement park lines (and the group was kind enough to let me sleep in and lounge around!) but watching these children when Disney characters were around was awesome. I remember Megan being there some 10 years ago.

I really appreciate this group of friends…they are dear to me and they are a part of my “community” where I find life. I look forward to being with them…and hopefully next year on a beach somewhere.

The gospel/homily at mass this morning was about traveling lightly. Fr. Rex, my pastor, talked about Jesus’ words to us on possessions. Fr. Rex framed his homily around things which DISTRACT us from being focused on the mission.

Distractions. I get distracted often—in prayer, while running errands, in remembering what is important to me. I know a lot of people are overusing the initals ADD and ADHD for the more common notion of being distracted.

I’ve taken some consolation in an insight that was given to me by Sr. Ruth Cowan SSND when I was making a personal retreat a few years back. I told her I get distracted when I pray (thinking of everything from the Cubs’ starting lineup to what home improvements I need to make). She basically said we shouldn’t let the guilt of being distracted keep us from seeing that moment of recognition (that we are”in” a distraction) as an invitation from God to re-join him, turn our minds and faces toward him once more, or continue our conversion to Him. That has been helpful to me in my prayer…

This morning’s homily got me to thinking in another direction.

Yesterday, Marlene, my wife, and other members of my family had a garage sale‘; return true;” onmouseout=”window.status='’; return true;”>garage sale. Man, I knew we were pack rats, but I never realized it until I saw all of the STUFF under my carport.

no this is NOT our garage sale but you get the idea. I think we had MORE!

I really do accumulate a lot of stuff. In college, my buddies called me the “trinket king.” Marlene calls me “gadget boy” sometimes. Gadgets, music, office supplies‘; return true;” onmouseout=”window.status='’; return true;”>office supplies, papers, e-mails, pictures, clothes, and the list goes on.

Jesus’ words and Fr. Rex’s homily made me think that sometimes my “stuff” might be (as the Act of Contrition says) “a near occasion of sin.” The way I use and hoarde these things often dis-tracts me from my mission of living intentionally (”on purpose”) “through Him, with Him and in Him.”

I invite you to join me in thinking about

• attitudes
• possessions
• habits
• relationships

that dis-tract us rather than attract us in our relationship with God. Maybe we need to sub-tract some things. I know I do.

This one comes from a humor service I get a daily joke/humor piece from…Mikey’s Funnies (the link is posted at the end). It’s not humor, but it did make me think of my own mom, my wife and the hundreds of other moms I know who show the unselfish love of Jesus in the way they care for their children.

Happy Mother’s Day to All.

FOR ALL THE MOMS…

This is for all the mothers who DIDN’T win Mother of the Year in
2005. All the runners-up and all the wannabes. The mothers too tired
to enter or too busy to care.

This is for all the mothers who froze their buns off on metal
bleachers at football games Friday night instead of watching from cars,
so that when their kids asked, “Did you see my tackle?” they could
say, “Of course, wouldn’t have missed it for the world”…and mean
it.

This is for all the mothers who have sat up all night with sick
toddlers in their arms, wiping up barf, laced with Oscar Mayer wieners
and cherry Kool-Aid saying, “It’s okay honey, Mommy’s here.”

This is for all the mothers of Sudan who fled in the night and
can’t find their children.

This is for all the mothers of the victims of the latest school
shooting and the mother of the shooter. For the mothers of the
survivors, and the mothers who sat in front of their TVs in horror,
hugging their child who just came home from school, safely.

For all the mothers who run carpools and make cookies and sew
Halloween costumes. And all the mothers who DON’T.

What makes a good mother anyway? Is it patience? Compassion? Broad
hips? The ability to nurse a baby, cook dinner, and sew a button on
a shirt, all at the same time? Or is it heart? Is it the ache you
feel when you watch your son or daughter disappear down the street,
walking to school alone for the very first time? The jolt that
takes you from sleep to dread, from bed to crib at 2 a.m. to put your
hand on the back of a sleeping baby? The need to flee from wherever
you are and hug your child when you hear news of a school shooting,
a fire, a car accident, a baby dying?

I think so.

This is for reading “Goodnight, Moon” twice a night for a year. And
then reading it again…”Just one more time.”

This is for all the mothers who mess up. Who yell at their kids in
the grocery store and swat them in despair and stomp their feet
like a tired 2-year-old who wants ice cream before dinner.

This is for all the mothers who taught their daughters to tie their
shoelaces before they started school. And for all the mothers who
opted for Velcro instead.

For all the mothers who bite their lips–sometimes until they
bleed–when their 14-year-olds dye their hair green. Who lock themselves
in the bathroom when babies keep crying and won’t stop.

This is for all the mothers who show up at work with spit-up in
their hair and milk stains on their blouses and diapers in their
purse.

This is for all the mothers who teach their sons to cook and their
daughters to sink a jump shot. This is for all mothers whose heads
turn automatically when a little voice calls “Mom?” in a crowd,
even though they know their own offspring are at home.

This is for mothers who put pinwheels and teddy bears on their
children’s graves.

This is for mothers whose children have gone astray, who can’t find
the words to reach them. This is for all the mothers who sent their
sons to school with stomach aches, assuring them they’d be just
FINE once they got there, only to get calls from the school nurse an
hour later asking them to please pick them up. Right away.

This is for young mothers stumbling through diaper changes and
sleep deprivation. And mature mothers learning to let go. For working
mothers and stay-at-home mothers. Single mothers and married
mothers. Mothers with money, mothers without.

This is for you all.

today’sTHOT============================

A mother can touch a whole generation just by loving her own child
well.

=======================================

PASS IT ON!
Yeah, you can send this Funny to anybody you want. And, if you’re
REAL nice, you’ll tell them where you got it! www.mikeysFunnies.com

========================================

I had the chance to speak at a retreat for St. Dominic (New Orleans) CYO on December 30. It was a privilege for me for a few reasons:
+ these young people lived in an area (Lakeview) which was affected greatly by Katrina
+ Their youth director, John Smestad, is a class act. He is also the diocesan director of youth ministry. I respect his work so much, as well as the professional and personal challenges Katrina has placed before him.
+ Returning to Camp Abbey is always a grace for me. I spent many retreat weekends and a few summers.

I was so touched to learn that another parish in the area (St. Matthew’s of River Ridge–I did their Lenten mission last spring) gave a very nice amount (I mean a very nice amount!) of gift cards to these 62 teens.

I still struggle to “get it”. The reality of it all is so far beyond me…

Another friend, Michelle Hernandez sent me this link to a short article about the need for folks to “lobby” their lawmakers to allocate the finacial resources needed to rebuild New Orleans. Please take a look…and please take 10-15 minutes to contact your lawmakers. It matters.

http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/opinion/252800_neworleans21.html

I was checking my e-mail when my father brought me the daily mail. He gave me a thick envelope and told me he had to sign for it.

I saw a Missouri address on it, one which I didn’t recognize. When I opened the envelope I was floored by what I found.

When I was at the National Catholic Youth Conference in Atlanta this past October, I reconnected with Cindy J. I had met her at a workshop in the diocese of Springfield-Cape Girardeau. She came up to me and asked me about New Orleans. We talked for a little while when she said that her youth group(s) had decided that the proceeds from their annual Advent wreath sale and give it to me to give to people affected by Hurricane Katrina.

I opened the package to find a Christmas card along with over $500 of gift cards to department stores like Home Depot, Lowe’s, Wal-Mart, etc.

Thanks to the adults and youth from St. John’s and St. Anthony’s for their generosity and for the kindness to me and to the people of my area.

We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
We wish you a Merry Christmas,
And a Happy New Year!

This “posting” is special. It came to me from Denise, a person I have had the privilege to know for 15 years now. Denise teaches in a Catholic school and we have worked together on many ministry projects for teens. She is a woman of deep faith, delightful humor and fierce determination.

If for some reason, you, like me, feel challenged by this and want to help via monetary donation, prayer support or even a letter or e-mail, please e-mail me at mikepatin@yahoo.com and I will connect you with Denise.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
The school year started in August amid uneasy feelings spoken of by my co-workers and students. Something did not “feel right”. Little didwe know that our live were about to change forever.

Two weeks later Katrina hit. (That’s exactly what it felt like – we were HIT!) Our city, our homes, schools, our very lives were washed over by uncontrollable floodwaters and government red-tape. There is not one person I know who has NOT been touched by the Big K (not K-Mart!).

Homes are completely lost – mine, my twin sister’s and my brother’s, friends, co-workers. Mimi N. has had to move because she lost her home and her husband has had to seek work elsewhere. Some friends like Robert, will have to re-do 50-75% of their homes before it is livable again. My community, where I prayed, shopped, lived, has been destroyed.

Imagine that all of (ALL OF) the county you live in is devastated, closed off or barely functioning, as are the surrounding communities. One Church instead of 8, no hospitals, no grocery stores or gas stations, a floundering fire and police department, one school, no county income, and NO idea when that will change.

My safe neighborhood (we rarely locked our doors) is patrolled nightly by the National Guard. There are few looters because let’s face it, who wants a water-logged sofa? I say, If they want it, let’em have it. It will be one less thing for me to haul out of my house before it gets bull-dozed. That’s right, the home I grew up in - the home my parents loved, lived in, and died in; the home that was filled with memories of family gatherings and photos of my childhood, will have
to be torn down because it is structurally unsafe. The water covered my eaves.

BUT my Homeowners insurance is willing to give me a few thousand
dollars for a new roof. My house is in danger of falling down, but my roof
is going to be NEW!

I had flood insurance, although my insurance agent said I didn’t need it because I “didn’t live in a flood zone”. I DO NOW!!! The flood insurance, if I ever get paid, is not enough to re-build at today’s costs.

(Please read the next few paragraphs with care and pray for us all –really.)

It gets better… Add in the fact that the EPA continues to give us conflicting information about the toxicity of our soil and water. Federal and State official cannot tell us when we can re-build, how high will we need to re-build, or IF we will be able to get affordable flood insurance BECAUSE all of our rates WILL go up – we’re floodable! I almost laughed out loud as I typed that!.

While I am on the topic of flood insurance, let me clarify what the media is using to imply how incompetent our local government is regarding OUR ability to “be prepared” and should we be allowed re-build at all – yeah, should I be able to live in the community I call home? We WERE unprepared for so many of the levees breaching, (a 30 foot wall of water is hard to stop using levees that were supposed to be “un-top-able”), the numerous people who did not heed the ORDER to evacuate, and for the lack of assistance we would receive.

Before anyone looks at pictures or statistics (which can all be manipulated to serve anyone at a given time) ask yourself how prepared are you RIGHT NOW for any natural disaster that has NOT occurred, yes “not occurred” in your area for the last 100-150 years? How would your local officials react if that disaster (the one that you, your parents, nor their parents ever experienced) occurred today? Add in limited Federal and State assistance to that last question.

It has been difficult to hear government officials speak of how “important” New Orleans and the entire Gulf Coast region is (AND IT IS!! – think oil, major U.S. port, great food, especially seafood) to the nation. We sat for FIVE days before we received aide. The reporters could get in with their cameras, but FEMA could not get here. Maybe they should have caught a ride with the camera crews.

We have been hearing for years that a storm of this magnitude was “possible”. But government officials from this administration, AND FROM THE LAST, said that the costs involved were too heavy compared to the “likelihood ” that it would actually occur. It sort of feel like we fell off a boat and have been dog-paddling for 3-1/2 months while people on the boat are fighting over who should throw us life preservers or IF we are worth saving at all.

Anybody want to take a guess at how much Katrina is costing EVERYONE right now. I gave my house, my community, MY comfort zone. If we all learn from this, I could not be more pleased to have given my all. How much has it cost you? (I am not trying to complain, I am just venting. I love you. If I didn’t love you, you would not be given the chance to hear me out and and therefore help me. This helps me. Really!! Don’t ya feel blessed??)

This will be a “hard candy” Christmas. My family and friends have agreed to concentrate our gift-giving efforts on the children in our lives. They are the ones who are struggling the most with the loss of familiarity of school, classmates, and routine. (My nieces and nephews have already asked if we think Santa will know that they had to leave their homes. The six year old is really worried because, “if I can’t remember my new address, will Santa?” He has had four addresses to learn since the beginning of this school year.

Money is tight because of the uncertainty of the future. (Robert, Paul, and I may have to re-think our trip to the Shrine this summer. It would be the first year in 11 that we were not there.)

Can you IMAGINE.? I still can’t, and I am living this. I used to say, “Come hell or high water…”. Now I am saying, “If God says the same…” My life is truly in God’s hands.

It would be unfair to let you think that ALL of the New Orleans area or Gulf Coast Region is looking the same at this point. Many parts of the city and surrounding area are operating at a near-to Pre-Katrina level. Schools in Jefferson Parish are open. Restuarants and Churches and shopping malls are open. We are all living with reduced work staffs becuase some people have not returned to the area. That translates to less service and an early close-time for businesses. Many people are living in trailers ON THEIR OWN PROPERTY, awaiting the completion of renovations to their homes. We are trying to keep our sense of humor. So it is not unlikely to see a Nativity set with a blue roof on top of the stable. Let’s face it - if Jesus came as a child today, to the Gulf
Coast, he WOULD have a blue roof.

With all that said, you need to know that I am hope-filled. My family and friends have survived. My brother now lives in Georgia. Here’s my big chance to visit Georgia and find out what a Georgia peach really tastes like. One of my sisters is doing well – her home is almost completely restored. My twin sister Melanie, and her family are living in a two-bedroom apartment with their three children, making new traditions while teaching the kids to let go of the past. Get this piece of irony - the mascot for the school the kids are now going to is “the
hurricanes”. The 10 year old was a cheerleader at her old school. She told me she just can’t cheer on “hurricanes” right now. How funny is that? Melanie
is also learning to live with her in-laws who are in the same apartment complex and are a great help with the children.

I am learning to downsize EVERYTHING. If you noticed, I never
asked you to send clothes – I have nowhere to put them. I do have a new car. The old one was almost dead when I dragged it in as a trade-in.) My new car is a royal blue Saturn ION. It is beautiful. Did you ever think that I would love a car?!! Me neither.

My beloved Cabrini High School survived quite well compared to the other high schools in my area. “My girls” are back in school. We lost about 80 girls school-wide whose families had to make decisions that did not include returning to New Orleans. We have also picked up several girls whose schools were closed or lost because of Katrina. Together, we are moving from victim to survivor mode. We are all amazed at how much we are loved by others.

The community I lived in and love so much, though torn to shreds by Katrina’s fierce winds and a high wall of water, is being looked at differently these days. We are usually made fun of because of our simple-minded politicians and down-to-earth citizens. We sustained 100% devastation- every home and business was underwater. Yet, in less than three months after the storm hit, we opened our first school. New Orleans, 8 miles to the west of us, is still struggling to open
more then a hand-full of schools. Priorities, hard work, AND the grace of
God are what are holding up my home parish (county) of Saint Bernard. My
sister and her family joined me at mass today in the only church of 8 to
survive the Big K. Our Lady of Prompt Succor (named for the patron of the
city of New Orleans) was almost filled with Saint Bernardians, most of whom
travelled from outside of the parish (some as far away as 6 hours) to gather for mass. When we sang “One Bread, One Body” at communion time, I lost it. So did most of the people in the Church.

Robert should be in a FEMA trailer in a few weeks. Until then, he will continue to stay with friends. Robert’s mother is living with one of Robert’s sisters until their home is safe to return to. That may be a year or more. Paul’s work is a cross for him at this time. He received minimal damage, but is surrounded by the devastation in our lives. Paul’s way of helping Robert, myself, and other friends, is by having us over every Tuesday for dinner in his home. Dinner at a friend’s home may seem like such a small gesture. In fact, Paul’s weekly gift has become one of our “normal” things to do. Thanks Paul!

I am living with my sister (and husband and three children) in their two-bedroom apartment one-half of the week. Apartments are hard to find, so we are sharing. The rest of the week I am staying with friends.

The trauma of 2005 would be un-bearable were it not for friends like you who have loved me through this time. You have asked “How can I help?” (Here is what you would missed if you had just read the first few paragraphs.) I believe that you just did help me – by listening to (reading) and trying to “feel with me”. None of us can do this alone.

Here is something else you can (continue to) do: PRAY. Pray that we continue to be HOPE-FILLED. Pray for the ENTIRE GULF COAST. You are hearing from me, but I am only one story in a sea of THOUSANDS who are in need of prayers and financial help. Pray for our political leaders that they may stop blaming each other long enough to ACT on our behalf. Pray for the children. Pray for the adults who work with them and love them. Pray that we may receive the graces, strength, money, money, money. (I know I repeated myself, but its going to take a lot of $$$$$ to re-build our lives !!!) Pray for those who have been helping us and for those who will help us. That includes you praying for yourself and thanking God for the gift that you are. I do it every day.

Thank you for listening to me. Thank you for loving me. Have a GREAT Christmas Season. Join me as I look to 2006 to bring more blessings from Our God who loves us.

I love you,
Denise

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
This is a prayer I found on the net…

Amen.

Megan McKenna spoke at the 25th Anniversary of the deaths of the martyrs of El Salvador. I wanted to share this quote:

“What is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? These women weren’t any different than us. They were scared all the time. They thought they were never doing enough. What they shared in common was an openness to not just live with the way things were - but to let the way things were alter everything they did.”

This comes to me from Mikey’s Funnies (no, not from me):

Mike

VIRUS ALERT: ADVENT VIRUS

Be on the alert for symptoms of inner HOPE, PEACE, JOY AND LOVE.

The hearts of a great many have already been exposed to this virus
and it is possible that people everywhere could come down with it in
epidemic proportions. This could pose a serious threat to what has,
up to now, been a fairly stable condition of conflict in the world.

Some signs and symptoms of THE ADVENT VIRUS:

~ A tendency to think and act spontaneously rather than on fears
based on past experiences.

~ An unmistakable ability to enjoy the moment.

~ A loss of interest in judging other people.

~ A loss of interest in interpreting the actions of others.

~ A loss of interest in conflict.

~ A loss of the ability to worry.

~ Frequent, overwhelming episodes of appreciation and thankfulness.

~ Contented feelings of connectedness with others and God’s nature.

~ Frequent attacks of smiling.

~ An increasing tendency to let things happen rather than make them
happen.

~ An increased susceptibility to the love extended by others as
well as the uncontrollable urge to extend it.

Please send this warning out to all your friends! This virus can
and has affected many systems. Some systems have been completely
cleaned out because of it.

During this season of Advent and the holidays, it is odd to see New Orleans as a mere shadow of itself.

This was sent to me in an e-mail. I am not sure of its author, even though there is an attempt to give credit at the bottom. It does talk about the notions of time…and I think, of choice. Whther or not you are from my part of the world, whether or not you are tired of hearing about Katrina and the other storms that ravaged the Gulf Coast, you can read this one….and make applications to your own life circumstances (no matter what they are) and realize…this is the time…and there are choices about what kind of time it will be.

Peace
Mike
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
There’s not a working clock in this entire city.

This morning I went on my walk and the big clock by St .Patrick’s Church on Camp said it was 2:30,as I walked on the Whitney clock said it was 11:15 and by the time I hit the French Quarter a clock there told me quite firmly that it was 6:00 o’clock.

I’m not really surprised at this, New Orleans has always had a problem with time. Time is not linear here, this is a city where people live in two hundred year old houses, have wireless Internet and use 600 year old recipes while singing 60’s songs to their newborns. Time is more of a mental game in New Orleans, you can pick the year you liked the best and stay in that year for the rest of your life here and no
one says a thing.

You can talk about your great great grandparents as if they were still alive and talk about your neighbors as if they were dead, we all understand.

Time marches to it’s own drunk drummer here. This morning as I walked into the Quarter on Chartres, a woman ran out of a cafe to greet me, “Hey dahlin” she yelled as she hugged me, “Where ya been?” I looked at her and realized it was one of the dancers from the smaller establishments on Chartres, over the years I’d become friendly with several of the dancers as I would take my morning walk, we’d smile, wave, exchange pleasantries. This morning I realized that even though I had said hello to this woman three times a week for four years, I didn’t know her name. I smiled, hugged her back and told her how badly I felt that I never knew her name and she laughed “Dahlin, you know my name, it’s Baby!”

Time to laugh out loud.

Twenty minutes later as I walked up Royal from Esplanade on my way out of the Quarter, a dark sedan stopped in the street right by the Cathedral and all four doors opened at once. I was twittering with curiosity when the driver hopped out, ran to the other side and escorted a smiling Lindy Boggs out of the car.

Before I could stop myself I’d yelled out, “Hey Lindy, good to see ya!” Mrs. Boggs accustomed to such raffish behavior smiled and yelled out “Hey yourself” as she waved, laughed and headed to church, surely thinking it’s time to pray for better manners for the likes of me.

We’re dealing with a lot of time issues these days, time to meet the insurance specialist, time to call FEMA, time to put out the refrigerator, time to get a new refrigerator, time to decide whether to stay in New Orleans or head elsewhere, time to register the kids for school, time to sell the house, time to buy the house, time to find a job, time to leave a job, time to figure out the rest of your life.

Could we maybe, while dealing with all those time issues take a minute and remember. Remember that there was a time when all of this was different, there was a time when slaves were sold in Napoleon House, a time when Mid City was considered the country, a time when people staged sit in’s downtown, a time when there was no McDonalds or Wendy’s or even Popeye’s, a
time when the Quarter burned, a time when people spoke French or Spanish, a time when the Opera House was open, a time when this was all uninhabited, a time when your refrigerator worked, your house was whole, your neighborhood wasn’t flooded and your city wasn’t defined by a Hurricane.

More than any other city in this country, this is a city defined by the quality of the times people have had here. Maybe it’s because it’s a port city, maybe it’s because of the food, maybe it’s because of the heat, but this city remembers everyone who has ever lived, loved and laughed here.

People visit us because they can feel the difference as soon as they get here, they can feel how time is honored here, in the time to craft our houses and the time to make a roux.

They can feel that the city holds all of our memories, our joys, our sorrows and our triumphs. That any time spent in New Orleans is kept in the breath, air, water and sky of New Orleans. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but what happens in New Orleans changes the city and its people, minute by minute, day by day, year by year so that we can’t help but live in the past, present and future.

Time will tell what we will end up looking like, how strong the levees will be, how many houses will be repaired, but we will tell time how strong the people of New Orleans are, how deep our commitments to each other are and that sometimes the best stories are the ones we write for ourselves.

Once upon a time in a city called New Orleans……

(supposedly authored by Boysie Bollinger)