Starry Sky Ranch

St Patrick's Tea

These are the most beautiful pictures I have from St. Patrick's Day and they were actually taken today since yesterday was so full. There was no month of St Patricks Irish dancing and pub performing this year thanks to Covid protocols. Instead, the high school soccer team began its season yesterday, having transferred fall sports to spring.  We had a very late post game dinner of corned beef in the crock pot and baked potatoes and the girls made our standby soda bread recipe here.  Our informal family reviews of this recipe are very positive. 

We watched PS I Love You this week which always makes me exceptionally emotional. (insert disclaimer for any inappropriate content) It also makes me miss my big girls tremendously. Alannah suggested a St Patrick's playlist on Spotify so I happily blasted that while driving to and from the game.  

We did read the long biography from Butler's Lives and of course read the Lorica.  It was not picture perfect the day of, nor was it a well orchestrated "all at one time" celebration.  It was a bits and pieces, spirit of the day sort of thing, as it usually works out here. I pace myself and fit things in as they can be peacefully be fit in.  That looks different every year. 

The funniest Irish quote I saw this year has me chuckling still.  My friend Molly, who shares my unique combination of love for all things Irish AND for Polish pottery shared this one by Yeats:

“Being Irish, she had an abiding sense of tragedy which sustained her through temporary periods of joy.”  

We ARE a dramatic bunch with an acute sense of the tragic lol.  

So here I am, a day late and a dollar short, likely.  I don't create content. (though I don't begrudge those in a position to do so) I recall and record over here. And sometimes I recreate as I did today, having the tea and soda bread leftovers when we had a little more time to enjoy.

Lorica of Saint Patrick

Author: Saint Patrick

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, 
Through a belief in the Threeness, 
Through confession of the Oneness 
Of the Creator of creation.

I arise today 
Through the strength of Christ's birth and His baptism, 
Through the strength of His crucifixion and His burial, 
Through the strength of His resurrection and His ascension, 
Through the strength of His descent for the judgment of doom.

I arise today
Through the strength of the love of cherubim, 
In obedience of angels, 
In service of archangels, 
In the hope of resurrection to meet with reward, 
In the prayers of patriarchs, 
In preachings of the apostles, 
In faiths of confessors, 
In innocence of virgins, 
In deeds of righteous men.

I arise today
Through the strength of heaven; 
Light of the sun, 
Splendor of fire, 
Speed of lightning, 
Swiftness of the wind, 
Depth of the sea, 
Stability of the earth, 
Firmness of the rock.

I arise today
Through God's strength to pilot me; 
God's might to uphold me, 
God's wisdom to guide me, 
God's eye to look before me, 
God's ear to hear me, 
God's word to speak for me, 
God's hand to guard me, 
God's way to lie before me, 
God's shield to protect me, 
God's hosts to save me 
From snares of the devil, 
From temptations of vices, 
From every one who desires me ill, 
Afar and anear, 
Alone or in a mulitude. 
 

I summon today all these powers between me and evil, 
Against every cruel merciless power that opposes my body and soul, 
Against incantations of false prophets, 
Against black laws of pagandom, 
Against false laws of heretics, 
Against craft of idolatry, 
Against spells of women and smiths and wizards, 
Against every knowledge that corrupts man's body and soul. 
Christ shield me today 
Against poison, against burning, 
Against drowning, against wounding, 
So that reward may come to me in abundance.

Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, 
Christ in me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, 
Christ on my right, Christ on my left, 
Christ when I lie down, Christ when I sit down, 
Christ in the heart of every man who thinks of me, 
Christ in the mouth of every man who speaks of me, 
Christ in the eye that sees me, 
Christ in the ear that hears me.

I arise today
Through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity, 
Through a belief in the Threeness, 
Through a confession of the Oneness
Of the Creator of creation

St. Patrick (ca. 377)

After the storm

The forecast sounded ominous all last week.  A fierce winter storm was projected to move through our area and power outages were expected. We replaced the generator we sold when we left the mountain West and stocked up on food and water just in case.  While outages did happen further north, it was truly magical in our neck of the woods so we just ate our stash of snacks, watched movies, and laughed at the dogs diving through the snow. 

I have always loved a snow day.  As a child growing up in Wisconsin it was like winning the lottery. Before dawn we would sit glued to the television set watching the scrolling list of schools and government buildings closed, hoping to see the name that meant you got a whole day off to do whatever you liked.  That usually meant curling up on the sofa with a bowl of cereal insulated from the world outside. Naps. TV. Playing with the dog outside.  I still get a little rush when we have a reprieve from our usual routine and the world around us quiets in the hush of falling snow.  

We have been hunkered down for three days now. There was two feet of snow on the deck last night.  The neighbors finally made a path to the next closest plowed road. I expect ours will be cleared tomorrow. Then the temps are predicted to rise and it will all be gone again.  In the meantime we were treated to the most beautiful blue skies today.  There is nothing like the sky after a good snow. 

White Noise

In all the world
There’s nothing like
The sound of falling snow –

The only noise
I’ve ever known
That makes the clocks move slow.

The only sound
That sweeps away
The din of city streets,

And wraps around,
In soft embrace,
’Most everyone it meets.

A sound that’s not
A sound at all –
A quiet, soft and dear,

That comforts all
The sleepy souls
Who sit, and watch, and hear.

~ Barbara Vance

In Our Domestic Cares

Our copy of the unabridged Butler's Lives of the Saints has been such an inspiration to me. How we came to own it is a funny story. I had borrowed the first volume from the library.  Upon returning they insisted it was damaged due to paint on the cover.  I paid for the book to be replaced, took the damaged volume home, and promptly discovered the "damage" wiped completely off.  Since it was now ours we began to read from it daily.  The detailed biographies of both major and lesser known saints have captivated me.  Today there was a rather long story of St Frances of Rome, who loved God intensely and assumed the best way to serve Him would be as a religious.  Her parents had other plans to which she acquiesced and she lived out her vocation as a wife and mother with every bit as much discipline and zeal. She famously quoted as saying,

"A married woman must leave God at the altar to find Him in her domestic cares;"

In her article here, Meg Hunter-Kilmer says:

"The trick of the devil is to convince us that our circumstances make holiness impossible. “Maybe I could have been a saint,” we think, “if I hadn’t married him or had so many children or gotten in that car accident or had an abortion or dropped out of college or become so bitter.”

St Frances pivoted admirably and threw herself into the vocation chosen for her, no excuses. It was precisely through circumstances she did not choose that she became a saint.  God sent her companions in this journey.  Her husband came to adore her and refused to put limits on her charitable work. Her sister-in-law became her closest friend and partner in serving the poor. Most miraculously, after a serious trial, God sent her an angel which was visible to her for the rest of her life though his image faded some when she committed some fault.  Clarity was restored each time when she righted her course.  

Her Bull of Canonization states that, “Her prayers and sufferings helped bring to end Western Schism (1378-1449), as well as the residence of popes in Avignon France.”  This is a terribly important reminder that we cannot know the fruits of our suffering and prayers but we must be assured that they are never wasted. St Frances was not a diplomat, she was a housewife. It was not her negotiations that ended the schism, but her private suffering and devotion. 

I hope you'll read the whole entry for her life in Butlers online here.  The Kindle version of Georgianna Fullerton's biography of the saint is currently free on Amazon.