 This is our friend, Jake, who is always "gelling." My husband and I were bowling last weekend. He's pretty awesome. Me? I bowl a 66 if I'm lucky and crown myself Queen.
John, though - he's a great bowler. After a particularly awesome strike, he turned around and said, "Before the ball left my hand I knew that was gonna be a perfect strike."
I didn't even question him. Of course he knew. He felt himself line up perfectly with the pins. He felt himself align his body with the lane so as he drew his arm back, the weight of the bowling ball, itself, propelled him forward. He was in-tune with the motions of the game. He was "gelling." He was "in the zone."
I understand the feeling. Maybe not for bowling (okay, DEFINITELY not for bowling) but I've felt confident and sure in other areas of life: pouring just the right amount of pizzelle batter into my iron for the perfect cookies, timing my laundry cycles to coincide perfectly with cleaning the bathrooms and the roasting chicken in my oven, and snipping the perfect amount of wire so I don't waste any for a pair of earrings.
We've all had this feeling. We're so "in tune" with what we're doing that our actions are second nature. We know, before we complete a task, that everything is going to turn out pretty awesome.
This is how I usually feel regarding religion. I gel. I'm "in tune" with God. I have an easy, natural response to confusing or potentially bad situations. When folks ask me questions about Catholicism, I've got an answer. When I'm faced with a severe temptation, I'm pretty quick to call out to St. Michael. That's just what happens when you communicate regularly through prayer and reception of the Sacraments.
Unfortunately, however, I was NOT gelling so much last week at work. I'll be honest... I'd had a pretty terrible weekend. I slipped into mortal sin, decided not to go to Mass, and paid for it on Monday.
Now please don't think I'm using my blog as a confessional. I'll get to that. I think it is important, however, to note just how damaging missing Mass actually is. So many people (my past self included) think that missing Mass is "no big deal." How can missing Mass be a mortal sin? Well, I had learned that lesson the hard way a few years ago, but apparently my soul shamefully decided it needed a refresher.
I missed Mass and intended to seek out Confession and Communion the following weekend. I trusted God not to let me get hit by a bus in between Monday and Confession, but I was definitely looking forward to Confession rolling around.
Anyway, Monday morning comes and all is well with the world. I'm doing my job properly, I'm having laughs with my coworkers, and everything seems perfect. And it was perfect... until my last call on Monday.
It was from a gentlemen who had a lot (and I mean A LOT) of trouble with the Catholic Church as a whole. He called saying he wanted answers to questions, but he wasn't asking questions so much as rambling about the various misconceptions about Catholics that have been strewn across the media.
Typically I'm able to handle those situations with poise and charity. I can usually redirect misconceptions with a firm and gentle explanation of the Truth.
I failed miserably this go around. Absolutely FAILED. I wasn't gelling with God. I wasn't gelling with my faith. I wasn't in communion with the Church I sought to defend, so how in the world did I think I was going to avail myself of the graces I willingly cut myself off from?
 Sure I said a prayer to the Holy Spirit, and I have no doubt His answering grace was the only thing that got me through that half-hour call. That being said, I knew by the end of it that I'd failed. This person, though no longer vehemently angry, was still left with a bad taste in his mouth regarding Catholicism.
Usually at the end of such calls I've got people at least agreeing that though they don't like Catholicism's stance on social issues, the Church isn't the evil enterprise they originally thought it was.
This guy, even though he wasn't angrily yelling anymore, probably still thinks that Catholicism is stupid and should be outlawed to protect those who couldn't see it for the shell game he thinks it is.
Since it was my last call of the day, I felt pretty miserable going home. My coworkers all said I did a great job on the call, but no. I could tell I'd messed up. I could feel it, just the same as I could feel when I'd succeeded with a caller. I knew the reason, too - I wasn't in communion.
It's like expecting a master chef to prepare a gourmet meal when he's only given the fry station at McDonald's. Sure he might be able to wrangle up SOMETHING, but it's not going to be as incredible as what he could do in his natural setting.
My natural setting is Communion with the Church. That is when I do my best work. That is when I feel as though I can help the most people in the best way. When I'm not in communion, I feel something missing. I honestly think God dropped that caller in my lap in order to remind me of that.
Of course He wasn't going to let me get smashed by a bus before getting my relationship with Him back on track. But He wasn't going to simply walk away and allow me to be without Him for a full week, either.
Nope. He loves me too much, and quite frankly, I love Him too much, too. I then looked up daily confession and found out we offer them at the Basilica right behind my office. I went during lunch the very next day and reconnected with Him. The rest of the week, though busy, I was back in tune with the world around me. I was gelling.
But God was good to grant me that one caller who would haunt me into never missing Mass again.
Missing Mass isn't just about breaking up my relationship with God. It's selfishly cutting myself off from the graces that could be used to help other people. And I think that is the lesson to be learned here (at least for me, anyway).
 Fr. Eucharist gave another stellar homily this past weekend. He reiterated some points regarding the True Presence, but I learned something new this time!
Ya know that 1 hour fast we're supposed to participate in before we receive? I always thought it was to clear our bodies of frivolous food so we could better accept the True Food of the Eucharist.
Fr. Eucharist's explanation was WAY more enlightening.
He gave us a brief history of the Eucharistic fast. I was already aware that there was a time in which you couldn't have even a drop of water past midnight in order to adequately prepare yourself to receive Christ. Then it was lessened to three hours, and now we're sitting at one. What I DIDN'T know, however, was that the fast was actually meant to make the faithful hungry.
Mother Church WANTS us to go to Mass hungry. She wants us to feel a physical emptiness... a physical hunger for sustenance.
Why, Father Eucharist?
To remind us that we should be hungering for Christ, of course!
Being humans, we sometimes need something physical with which to remind ourselves of the spiritual. A fast does this in several key ways.
First, we gain that physical hunger which should remind us to always hunger after Christ. Next, it should remind us of our brothers and sisters who daily face physical hunger on account of poverty, neglect or famine. After all, we are all connected, and sharing in the physical manifestation of hunger is a way to develop empathy (and through that empathy, activism) for our spiritual family (meaning all humans since we are all children of God).
Finally, this fast does serve to clear our bodies (and hopefully, our minds) of the frivolous junk we tend to ingest on a daily basis. Much like we would do a quick clean of the house before a friend arrived, we use the time of fasting to clear ourselves of unnecessary "junk" to make room for God.
I really appreciated that insight as it's something I never really thought much about.
My oldest friend from high school, Theresa, got married last weekend. I can't wait to see the professional pictures of her because none of the ones I snapped do her or her dress justice.
As a married woman who was over the moon for her own wedding dress, I can honestly say that Theresa's out-shone mine by at least 10 light years! Her train was beyond magnificent. The lace, jewels and satin made her look exactly like the princess she's always wanted to be. I was (and am) so happy she and John finally exchanged vows!!!
Vince was her ring-bearer. He escorted a beautiful little girl named Allison down the aisle. They were SO CUTE together!!!
Unfortunately, Vince was a bit of a terror during the service. During rehearsal, the priest allowed Vince to run around the sanctuary. I had specifically corrected Vince three times, but the priest told me not to bother each time. He said, "Don't worry - it'll make for a cute photo op."
*Sigh*
I knew, as any parent of a toddler would, that allowing that behavior during rehearsal was just about the worst idea ever. Vincent doesn't understand the difference between a rehearsal and the "real thing." Thus, if it's okay to run amok in a church Thursday night, it should be perfectly fine to do the same on a Saturday.
As predicted, that's exactly what happened.
I wonder how long it's going to take me to re-teach him that we don't act that way in a church. *Sigh*
Luckily he didn't knock the candles over or rip Theresa's dress. He basically ran up and down the sanctuary steps a few times during the exchange of vows and climbed into Father's seat, evading the attempts of groomsmen to wrangle him in.
Ah well... at least he was attempting to mimic a priest. I can't be entirely upset about that prospect. Ha ha ha!
Speaking of priests, the one presiding at Theresa's wedding Mass was the president of our now defunct Cardinal Dougherty High. It was fabulous to see him. He looks wonderful and his personality is still gentle and welcoming. As I watching him go through the rehearsal, I couldn't help but think that his handling of people was the primary reason God chose him to be a priest.
He is so incredibly genuine when he's in priest mode. He goes out of his way to make sure everyone feels welcomed and cared about. It's rare to be able to pull that off with a huge group of people so effortlessly, but he's incredibly consistent (which is probably why they made him President of Dougherty).
Anyway, his homily was great. He should make it available to other priests as a general "go-to" wedding homily. He gave a lot of good advice - chief among them to remember that God blessed them with one another. In order to make it to Heaven, they NEED each other. They need to rely on one another precisely because God brought them together for the purpose of reaching Heaven. The unique challenges they each bring will compliment the unique strengths they have, and together, they will live a life which aims for Heaven.
Married couples would do well to understand this. Our spouses are NECESSARY. They are the ones we are given precisely because they will challenge us to grow in love. They will challenge us to sacrifice... to hope... to trust.
It was a wonderful reminder to me, and it made my heart sing a hymn of thanks for such a beautiful reminder that I've been truly blessed with John. He has challenged me to trust... to hope and to sacrifice. All of that has deepened my capacity to love and has very much led me down the road towards my rekindling of faith. I am a better Catholic today because of John (something he'd probably be loathe to acknowledge - ha).
So yes... your husband or wife is a blessing sent directly from God, Himself, for the express purpose of ensuring your soul gets into Heaven. How wonderful is that? :)
 Believe it or not, this atheist will get me to Heaven, but I'll drag him along too!
 A few months ago, as my class and I were discussing the 10 plagues God sent to force the pharaoh to give the Israelites their freedom, the topic of the Angel of Death came up. This same discussion ended up finding its way into my inbox this morning from a friend of mine who is trying to decide if Catholicism is right for him.
Anyway...
The tenth and final plague, the death of the firstborns, was a punishment doled out specifically by the Angel of Death. My class had a really hard time wrapping their heads around the image of the angel pictured in the book. He was wielding a sickle (much like the one pictured), and left a trail of death and lamentation in his wake. Not one of the kids could believe that God would intentionally "murder" children like that.
I had to reel them back in for a bit. I explained that God never "murders" anyone. The picture they saw wasn't a recreation of that night... it was an artist's choice of symbols and images to tell a story. In the book, we saw a mighty angel holding a sickle. Around him were crying mothers and lifeless children. The artist chose these things for a reason.
First, the Angel of Death didn't bring God's punishment to the firstborns... punishment was meant for those left behind who would feel the pain on an emotional level (considering that months of physical punishment did nothing to deter them).
This angel carried a sickle to symbolize the "harvesting" of souls. The sickle is an agricultural tool that is specifically used to remove the most desirable parts of grain. In ancient Egypt, that's exactly what the firstborns would have been considered. The souls that this angel harvested (firstborns) were the most desirable and respected family members in Egyptian times. The fact that God demanded that the souls makes the punishment that much more severe.
Finally, the crumpled, broken parents who clutched the lifeless bodies of their children were meant to evoke strong emotions - the artist wanted to REALLY hit home how devastating this plague was in its emotional severity, so he used young children to symbolize all firstborns.
Firstborn didn't just mean babies. It didn't just mean toddlers. Firstborn meant everyone from child straight on through adult. It meant everything from calf to chicken to donkey. God harvested the most revered of Egyptian lives for Himself as proof that He was God over all - even the best protected. He controlled Life and Death (not just over base nature and animals, but over humanity as well - something Pharaoh never accepted as true until this final plague).
However, my class was still having a really tough time reconciling God taking these innocent lives with their image of a pure, holy, and loving Being. This is very understandable considering we, as humans, many times see death as a horrible, evil thing (especially when it is the death of an innocent... someone who did nothing to cause or solicit an untimely end).
One student asked me, "Do you think they [the firstborns] were scared?"
I paused for a second, because I realized then that my poor class had in their minds this image of a massive weapon-wielding warrior with wings blazing a trail through Egypt slaughtering unsuspecting children. Their collective looks of horror and disbelief challenged me to break down the Angel of Death for them a bit... into one who looked a little more like this:
 Sorry it's not super clear! The Angel of Death wasn't running around slashing throats. In fact, I doubt the people who were chosen to die that night even felt pain. Though I never thought about it before, when she asked me that, I immediately pictured one of those children, soundly sleeping, engulfed in a brilliant light. The Angel of Death was present, and he showed this tiny soul something of Heaven. He gently said, "Come, little one. God is calling you home." He reached out his angelic hand and without thought or hesitation, the soul - immeasurably joyous and willing - leapt from its body and consented to be carried along to meet the Source of such radiating, all-encompassing Love.
Instead of punishment or pain, these souls were met with joy and love... comfort and beauty. The Angel of Death is not this menacing monstrosity that humans should fear. Instead, he is the herald of our Heavenly welcome - the one tasked with the joy of bringing us home after our earthly sojourn.
 I have two rosaries that I typically use for everything. I used to have three, but I'm waiting to purchase a new Rosary for the Unborn (since I lost mine on the airplane back from Jamaica - bah).
I digress... as usual. *Blush*
The first is my Confirmation rosary. I was given this simple white rosary by my Aunt Bernadette (both my Godmother and sponsor) back in 7th grade when I was confirmed. I had it socked away in a drawer for years, but since my reversion, it's never been far from my side.
I chose that rosary to take with me on my trip to Treasures of the Church, though, which meant I got to touch it to almost 200 1st class relics. From that night on, anytime I pray with that rosary, I feel it's perfectly acceptable to ask all the saints I venerated to pray along with me. I'm sure they're only too happy to oblige. Anyway, last night I said my prayers downstairs so as not to wake up John (who had gone up to bed an hour earlier). Since I keep my Confirmation rosary next to my bed, I reached into my purse to use the one my mother gave me for Christmas. It's a beautiful birthstone rosary with lavender pearls and amethyst beads. The Crucifix and center piece are by far the nicest I've ever seen. As I pull the beautiful rosary from my purse, I realize that I can't fairly ask the saints to pray along with me since I don't have "their" rosary. Mind you, I'm fully aware that they'd pray along with me just the same, because they have no care what's in my hands so long as the prayers are coming from the heart, but I still feel as though that something is missing. This is sort of like Jesus being fully present as I accept Him in the Eucharist vs. Him being fully present in the Eucharist at Adoration. In both instances, He is absolutely fully present. There is, however, a different type of intimacy. I feel the same way about praying with the two rosaries. Both obviously help me in my spiritual development, and both guide me through the meditations of the Rosary / Divine Mercy chaplet, but in uniquely different ways.So instead of asking the saints to pray along like I normally do, I ask my guardian angel to pray along with me. Whenever I make this request, I always picture a beautiful ethereal being solemnly bowed down in prayer, then rolling his eyes at me for such a foolish request. Of COURSE he'd pray with me. He'd do it regardless, and probably tries to coax me into doing it more myself!But I ask anyway, because I don't want him to feel left out or think that I don't appreciate his presence. So off we begin our prayers when a thought enters into my mind:"Where two or three are gathered in My Name, there am I in their midst.” (Matt 18:20)Welp... me and my guardian angel make two, right? So I wondered if Jesus was hovering around us somewhere. As I made my way through an Our Father, I realized that not only was Jesus present, I was SPEAKING HIM! Jesus is the Word of God, right? He is the Word of God incarnated, but the Word of God nonetheless. The words of the Our Father were given to us straight from Jesus, Himself, so that's about as "Word of God" as it gets. In the state of prayer, in acknowledging His Presence, I understand that I SPEAK His Presence. He really was present with us as not only were His Words being used... His Will was being done through those prayers. The Holy Spirit was kind to me with that little nugget of illumination. When I acknowledged that, too, I realized that the Trinity does fully exist with, for and in one another. One can never be without the Others. As soon as I realized that I was speaking Christ's Presence, I realized it was the Holy Spirit who placed that thought in my head. I realized then it was the Will of the Father being done through the simple action of reciting His Words granted through Jesus, His Son. This is another reason why prayer is so important. This is proof that not only do we talk to God, God speaks directly back to us... just not necessarily in the ways we expect or are used to.So make use of your guardian angels! I hear they like that sorta thing... *wink.*
 Okay, once again, God placed some breadcrumbs for me to follow these last couple weeks, and I absent-mindedly popped them into my mouth one-by-one, never even realizing I was being set up for a cool perspective that I could meditate on for a while.
A blogger I follow, Devin Rose, recently posted this entry regarding the Jewish lore regarding the Eastern Gate that I found particularly interesting. I'd never heard of this particular prophesy, so I dutifully followed his links and read the article written by Dr. Reagan. I immediately went back to Devin's page with a flurry of thoughts:Jesus, Himself, was (and is) the new Temple. When His Heart was pierced by the lance, couldn’t that be seen as the “opening of the Eastern Gate”? After all, through this final wound, His Precious Blood and water flowed forth (which we now recognize as His Divine Mercy through Saint Faustina). This would explain the other quotes from the article (which, BTW, mostly consist of OT prophecy). Jesus did, in fact, walk on the Mount of Olives. He now dwells with us forever through His Eucharist. And for as much as folks don’t like to picture His Passion as glorious, He gained for us salvation upon that gruesome Cross. His Death and subsequent Resurrection are about as glorious as it gets.However, as I was thinking more on this over the next few days, I randomly came across this blog entry from Shameless Popery while I was looking for images of Jesus as the New Temple. Don't you know my line of thinking followed his, and he took it about 100 light years further than I!He also brings up the possibility of the Blessed Mother being the Eastern Gate, which would make more sense than my idea that it might be Christ's Sacred Heart. After all, the Blessed Mother's womb certainly fits the bill! :)So yeah - how wonderful that all these little things lined up to create a much fuller picture of Salvation History and God's promises fulfilled!
 Moses accepting the Word of God So I was prepping for next week's lesson on the Exodus. I came across the following excerpt from Exodus 24:9-11:"Moses then went up with Aaron, Nadab, Abihu and seventy elders of Israel, and they beheld the God of Israel... yet He did not lay a hand on these chosen Israelites. They saw God, and they ate and drank."Basically, this portion of the story occurs after Moses delivers the Word of God to the Israelites. In "one voice" they consent to the Mosaic covenant linking them as a people to God. They follow the prescribed sacrificial offerings which solidifies them as a family through the physical symbol of blood. Then, Moses and the elders take part in the spiritual sign of family as they partake in a Heavenly feast in which they "saw God" and yet remained unharmed (important point because Jews believed that to see God was automatic death). God did not "lay a hand on these chosen Israelites" because they were now His family. They feasted together in the Presence of God which fully solidified their covenant with him.Now, it took me a bit for this quote to register, so bear with me.Since my class has been going over covenant history (we've gone through Edenic, Adamic, Noahic and mostly Mosaic), I was really trying to take them a bit more in-depth with the Mosaic covenant because of the 1st Reading for this coming weekend (Ten Commandments). However, as I was putting together my lesson plan, I copied and pasted the "review" from last week (which consisted of Adoration since I had reminded them about why we'd be taking part in it during Lent). Here's where things get entertaining.As I got midway through my lesson plan, having just highlighted Adoration for myself through the review, I started putting pieces together."Hey wait a minute! The Eucharist is the ratification of the New and Everlasting Covenant which fulfills the promises made throughout Salvation History! Not only do we feast WITH God, we feast on HIS FULL PRESENCE - Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity. So just as the Jews were able to "see God," we, too, are given this privilege and grace through our own spiritual feast (made visible through the physical sharing of the Eucharist). Gotta love when things come full circle.And then when I was looking up images to use for this entry, I came across the one you see at the top with Moses kneeling down to accept the Ten Commandments from God the Father. I had another little light bulb go off over my head. Moses was kinda receiving a precursor to the Eucharist. After all, what is the Word of God other than Jesus Christ, Himself?Okay, I now have the cheesiest grin on my face. It's like all these little pieces are coming together and I can't help but shake my head in wonder. God is such an incredible Author. His foreshadowing simply cannot be outdone!
 Great Blog if you click the pic! So I was watching a documentary the other night about a woman and her no-kill cat sanctuary. Being a bit of a "crazy cat lady" myself, I thoroughly understood much of what was revealed during the hour-long special. I've been an avid animal lover my entire life. I must've drove my mother up the wall with the amount of animals I'd try to sneak into the house. I succeeded with a few she still doesn't know about to this day! Ha ha.(Mom, if you end up reading this, sorry... blame Grandpop. His blood pumps through me, too, and inevitably ends up using my heartstrings as a makeshift accordian. I'm powerless, really!)Anyway, it wasn't until I moved out and started a life with John that I kicked into "foster-mom" gear. In the last few years, John and I have fostered and found homes for more than 50 cats / kittens. Now obviously 50 isn't nearly as fantastic a number as 700, but those 50 that we saved enabled 50 others to find room at the shelters. Our work also opened the hearts of others to the plight of unwanted animals, and now several of our friends have either fostered or adopted their own furbabies. Be the change you want to see, right?In my travels as foster-animal advocate, I've come to see a lot of heartbreaking things. My own foster-turned-adopted cat, Zoey ( read her story as featured on Animal Planet) taught me an incredible amount about the overburdened shelter system, the carelessness and cruelty of humans, and the power of faith. Knowing this, one thing from the documentary really struck me. A tiny, malnourished kitten was brought in, barely clinging to life. A team of volunteers rallied around him, bottle feeding, warming, and caressing this impossibly small, hungry and dehydrated kitten. Sadly, they were too late in their efforts and the kitten succumbed to its tryst with neglect. This situation is all too common all over the world. However, Lynea Lattanzio (the "crazy cat lady") said something I've found myself saying when faced with the crippling emotions that come from being "too late."She said "At least this animal died surrounded by love. At least, for a few moments, he understood what it was to be cared for, to be held, to know dignity."I was crushed, then, because I've known that feeling. I've felt my heart break over the loss (and even potential loss) of these little lives. People would always look at me cock-eyed, asking me how I got attached so quickly to these animals. Much like the kitten documented above, the volunteers had only known him a total of 15-30 minutes before his life slipped away, yet all felt that sharp pang of loss. Lynea said something else that echoed my own voice to friends: It never gets easier. It's always painful when you lose one. In all the years I've done this, it's never not hurt.Amen, Lynea. And as I was thinking more on it, a little light went off over my head. Why DO we feel such an incredible sense of loss? Why does that pain linger? Why do we catch ourselves mourning - years later - those little lives that were lost on our watch?I realized it was because we felt, briefly, Divinity. As I explained in a previous post, all animals have souls. Not only do they have souls, they have pure, unblemished souls that can do nothing but infinitely please their Creator. As we hold those little furry angels, we delight in that purity. We recognize the hidden gem of God's breath that animates their beating hearts. As that life force returns to its Creator, it inevitably leaves us behind, and we sense that we lost something of infinite value. We lost something pure and innocent - a reflection of the One our souls unconsciously seek. I really do think that is why we immediately sense that connection and subsequent loss. All life comes from God - and as such, all life returns to Him.
May those folks over at the Cat House be immensely blessed for everything they do. May all fosters, volunteers, and rescue staff be blessed. They do incredible, heart-breaking work... and they DO make a difference. Even if the world is incapable or unwilling to see it.
 God's Timing is Always Perfect So I had a big date today with the courthouse. I can't offer many details at this juncture, but be assured I didn't break any laws. Ha.
Anyway, I was really hoping that today would be the end of a very long, very emotional, and very psychologically draining battle. Unsurprisingly, God had other plans in mind.
I was feeling pretty miserable on the way home. Luckily I had brought my new Lighthouse CD with me for the ride, and a brilliant quote wafted over the speakers. I actually replayed it - twice - because I knew God wanted me to not only hear it, but understand it.
"Sometimes God makes you wait in order to purify your motives."
Hrm - how true that is! I realized that in my desire to have this done and over with, I was being a smidgen outlandish. Instead of accepting this litany of grievances as opportunities to practice patience, or offer them up for some greater good, I've been selfishly desiring the end of them and the opportunity to "get away" from my issues.
*Sigh*
I needed to hear that, and I needed to hear it right then and there.
How often do we rush and grumble when others aren't rushing with us? Instead, maybe we should slow down and be grateful for the "Gift of Waiting." In being forced to slow ourselves down (even in traffic), we could very well be given blessings untold. God's timing is perfect. Every red light a manifestation of His Mercy... every irritatingly slow driver a testament of His Grace... every tear-inducing conversation with the lawyers a new chance for us to submit to God's Will in an effort to understand what it means to trust.
 I got a lovely little booklet in the mail today from the Franciscan Missions. It's titled "Little Francis' Love Notes." It must be the most adorable little booklet I've ever seen!
It's filled with cartoon images of Franciscans (like the plush version pictured) and sweet little sayings that help you open your eyes to a whole new way of seeing the world.
One, in particular, caught my attention.
"It's best to try to look at others from the inside out. God makes everyone's heart the same color."
Mmmmmmm - I adore that. Even those I don't necessarily agree with or even like too much - we're all children of the same loving God. All of us have been given a sacred dignity and a share in the gifts of our Father.
In other words, it's best to don a pair of those "Resurrection Glasses" and see folks for who they really are, not just who they seem to be.
Just give the video a few minutes to pick up. Excuse the shoddy acting - the point is worth it. <3
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