Sometimes a final decision depends on the luck of the draw; who knows, maybe even which way the wind's blowing that day. I guarantee that if you were married to a closet sociopath with enough political and financial clout, your chances might be somewhere between zip and nada for justice. That spouse might not care a whit about God or religion or anyone but himself or herself. Is that person allowed to stand between you and Holy Communion? I think not.

Technically I'm not out of line by anyone's interpretation yet because I never remarried for some odd reason. But if geriatric romance ever did blindside me, then I might raise a few hackles here and there. I know absolutely in my heart that my divorce was biblically justified.

Since I couldn't read everything worthwhile in the whole world if I lived a million years, I've had to try reining in that wish. Even Daily Kos, which I love, tries to lure me away with the promise of an even larger potential audience than elsewhere; but I found my online home here, and it's been largely due to the BOG and one other group. So I'm grateful for that, some days more than you'd want to know. The proof of that pudding? I'm prone to listen to the good advice here. At times it might look as if I've got a head like a rock, but I'm not totally deaf.

BTW, even though everyone did their best to keep out of political talks/arguments at St. Lukes' community Thanksgiving Dinner today, a few people in private (and later in public when the social hall was so loud that table talk was the same as) said very nice things about the President and Dems in general. I had the extreme privilege of answering a question from the very elderly couple seated next to me. They wanted to know if they had to wait on everyone else to sign up for ACA before the policy they wanted could activate. I imagine they're on some form of Medicare and/or Medicaid, but apparently they've had choices to make and were concerned about implementation.

Since this was not the time or place to dig for details, but I wanted to offer them accurate reassurance, I only said be sure you've done more than just register an account; if you've chosen a plan and signed up for it, then you don't need to worry about slowpokes holding you back. I wasn't about to get more specific for many reasons, but that seemed to be all they were concerned about.

lots of stuff about pearly gates, mansions, streets of gold... all I want is a room above the stables and a turn at choir rotation, that's enough for me. Love to sing.

with friends. Passover too, you name it.

It will work out one way or another. As I've said, if nothing else this whole situation has convinced me of my genuine attachment to the church. This particular mission is fairly plain - ML burned half the place down one year when she failed to extinguish some candles - but the statue of Mary was salvaged. While very simple, it's one of the most beautiful I've ever seen. I don't suppose I qualify as a Marian technically, but when I've really hit a rocky stretch, I've found that singing the Hail Mary in as many different tunes as I can think of always cheers me up a lot. Before you know it I'm dancing around the house as if nobody's watching. I'm trying to say that a period of enforced comparative isolation can be turned to healthy purposes if we choose.

If I'd had any real concept of what I'd be up against, I never would've had the nerve to move here despite all the other advantages. But I'd been on my own so long, always used to moving a lot and settling in easily, that it never crossed my mind how long it would take here. I've heard any number of people say with pride how hard they like to make it for outsiders with no family roots here. They had a hard time digesting the idea of someone just deciding to do it w/o knowing (or asking) anyone else at all. Unheard of! After 8 years now, most seem to be growing resigned and a few are downright friendly. In another decade or so, someone might slip up and let me join the book club or something. I swear this is true, it's amazing how many groups have just that week shut down! when I look in their direction. The previous UMC pastor went racing to their church in a panic when his wife told him I'd gone over there one evening to listen to the bell choir practice. He found me sitting in a side room out of sight and started stammering that "It might not be such a good idea to ask to join them because these people have been playing together for years and they've got everything just the way they like it..."

Well, at least people don't shoot each other at church the way they did during the Civil War. Which is basically still on, didn't you know? During that period every church in the county had to close, they were losing so many people to lead poisoning. But I think I'm slowly making a little progress at least. I'm good at out waiting the other guy. So at the end of the day, it's all good.

I won't be replacing the portrait of JPII above the piano in my living room any time soon, no matter how thrilled I am over Francis.

Happy story about how I came by that portrait. Shortly after Benedict's ascendancy, I asked Fr. Fred (in AZ) what the church planned to do with the beautiful official portrait of his predecessor. Fr. Fred told me to stop by the rectory later on and I'd find out. When I arrived, he handed it to me all wrapped up and said, "Forget where you got this."

He was so cool, like another priest in CA who gave me a print of the Madonna and Child when the nursery in that church, built in the 1890's, was being redecorated. Before every Mass I always went to look at that picture first because I loved it so much. One day it was missing; I nosed around and found it in a closet under a pile of other stuff that was headed for the trash bin! Knowing better than to act on my own, I asked Fr. Leland if that was any chance it might be for sale. Name your price. At that time I had real $. He looked at me and shook his head sadly. "No, there's no way I can sell it to you." He'd set me up for the zinger, of course. "However, since it was probably donated originally by one of the founding families, I can't really let it be thrown out either. So I hereby appoint you and your heirs in perpetuity the caretakers of this item. Remember you don't own it, and if the donators notice its disappearance and want it back, you'll have to return it."

Whereupon he wrapped it up in his own overcoat and carried it out to my van for me.

That picture hangs next to JPII's portrait everywhere I've ever lived since. Now tell me, have I been blessed or what????

Having what must be the best pope in history, I mean. So fortunate we are to be living today.

I'm worse than any kid waiting for Christmas. So far I've managed to lose the pounds I wanted in order to prepare for Thanksgiving (twice, once at St. Luke's and once at the UMC) and Christmas dinners. That way I can eat all I want while it's there, then leave and behave a little better the rest of the year.

Don't want to rain on any parades, especially my own, but here's a medical factoid I just learned yesterday on Oz: the first 2 hours after a really big meal are the most likely to bring on a heart attack, so be alert for the least symptoms. And stop eating before you keel over - hard to do! I hope I've broken its stranglehold but I'll always love, love, love food.

ML's sister's family will be providing transportation for me to and from the noon church dinner, since some of them will be out delivering meals to shut-ins anyway. No way I could survive the late afternoon dinner at the nice sister's house, since ML will be there after she finishes at the church.

As for rides to and from Mass, that's been a moot point for over 3 years now. I know other parishioners understand why; more than once I heard people slide into a pew behind me, almost swearing under their breath after some exchange with ML at the door. One muttered, "It's like running a damned gauntlet!" Most people around here grew up with her so they could tell me more than I already know, which is quite enough.

I appreciate your thoughts. Keeping them in mind will surely help me follow the right path. Yes, the poor woman has suffered uncommonly, and financial power (and its fellow traveler, social power) has not really been her friend. She knows people call her the Head Hen behind her back. Well, a few have called me a lot worse, such as heretic because I love the Jesuits and Dorothy Day and remain stubbornly liberal instead of slipping into decorus conservatism in my old age.

But I never had the treacherous 'benefit' of inherited wealth either. So I had to learn to fight my own battles, and that's been my share of the problem, whatever part of it I own. The percentage mystifies me, though I can't be pure as the driven snow either. I'm way too good at fighting when pushed into a tight corner, as I have unerring perception of an opponent's Achilles' heel. Can't remember ever having actually struck full force, but just knowing I could terrifies me that I might. I've been known to forget my parents' good advice: Only a jackass answers every donkey that brays.

Another matter has factored into the equation as well. Some people don't realize the tactical advantage of having nothing (or less than others) to lose, and some may be acutely aware. I honestly believe ML falls into the latter category. That would go a long way toward explaining why, when I exited the church after my first Mass there, she came up behind me and snarled, "Well, you sure made a big hit with the priest!"

Half dead as I was from the perils of my recent move from out of state, I'd done no more than stand to face the congregation and incline my head to everyone when the priest called the congregation to welcome me. No one had so much as spoken directly to me and I honestly don't know if I could've formed a coherent verbal reply at that point. So I just stopped for a second on the steps as I left; therefore she knew I heard her. But I didn't care to reply, and I just went on home. She must've realized immediately that I was not under her direct control, and that would've been alarming indeed to someone who's used to ruling the roost. Further events bore this out, no matter how hard I tried to please her conscientiously. At least at first. When it proved impossible, I stopped caring.

Sorry if I've dragged this subject out too long. I don't mean to wallow or whine or whatever else. But it's always helped me to contemplate any situation as truthfully and analytically as possible so I can listen (at least once in a blue moon!) to the angels of my better nature. I know I have one somewhere, if only I could find where I left it!