Wisdom for Women

from I, Francis, by Carlo Carretto (1910 - 1988)

There is something new for women, too. Read carefully.

Today, a woman must hear the words of Jesus as a man hears them; and if Jesus says, "Go and make disciples of all nations," it must no longer be that a man hears this in one way and a woman in another.

How you must re-think everything!

And how I would like to say to women of today, "Go!" with all the force of which my spirit is capable, and all my anxiety for the immense needs of a world athirst for the Gospel. This is an urgent invitation.

...Let prayer reign [in your home,] good counsel, and peace. Let your toil, whatever it is, be illuminated by the power of your calling...

Do not copy men. Be authentic. Seek, in your femaleness, the root that distinguishes you from them. It is unmistakable, for it has been willed and created by God himself. Repeat to yourselves every day: a man is not a woman.

Waste no time in approaching men in order somehow to resemble them. Rather, seek to remove yourselves as far as possible from their model. It is not yours, and it is rather marred and muddled, even so.

... And one more thing.

Do not let yourselves be guided by men any longer just because they are men. If you let them lead you do so because they are saints, and do not disdain the help of persons like Clare [referring to Clare, friend of Francis of Assisi] - who, though she is a woman, can tell you things of utility and power.
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This reading captures my mind as I often think about woman's ways of knowing, of thinking, of understanding life, theology, God. These are unique. In feminist theology, a foundational sin of woman is her refusal to embrace her calling, fearfully choosing away from her gifts and strengths, and surrendering the responsibility for her own life to someone else.

In many ways it would be is tempting to have a man or men to carry all responsibility. But in healthy life there is an antiphonal aspect to women and men as co-workers and partners in the endeavors of life. I don't ascribe much value to alienation. But to be taught by unwise men, to bend away from women's knowledge for the sake of male thinking, or to concede choices to the whims of another without thoughtful interaction, what good can come of this?

I think I would like a stitching on my wall that simply said, "Prayer, Good Counsel, Peace." What more better could my life and home offer?

generous living

This is my thinking 'the next day.' I am still weary and not on my feet, but I have these ponderings.

I want to live a generous life.
I want to be gentle in my life rhythms.
I do not like 'hitting the wall and sliding off."

I think that generosity does not mean giving too much away. The task is to somehow be generous even when we stop and take care of ourselves. Is it possible that generous living should include me?

These things I know:
1. I cannot do what I used to be able to do, energy wise.
2. I do not want to rescue the world, but I do want to be a life-giver where I am able.
3. There are signs when we are nearing the edges of our limits but generally I ignore them.
4. I cannot blame anyone else when my life goes over the edge. I have to own the choices of my own life.
5. God is not pushing me.
6. Sometimes we must schedule a massage.

something real

So what does one write about when she feels spent and stretched and misunderstood? I usually do not blog about such things. My life has much censure, many commenters who know what it should be, or should not be. So I write about things like chocolate and birds.

Today I am seeking a quiet heart to hold me. Just a place where I can plunk my soul and breath. My mind has shuffled through a whole catalogue of places and people and eliminated them one by one. (Please don't take offense at this last statement.)

I wrote about this a long time ago... you can scan back in my posts. About feeling dislocated from myself.

But here's what it feels like. I wonder if you ever feel like this. I feel like I can't find a hold on my life. Like I want to cast out a line and hook it onto something real and holy and me and reel myself in like a big fat fish. I would reel myself into my self. Somewhere I got ahead of my own song. And like always, even though it seemed to cost a lot, it wasn't enough.

I open my computer and write this ... it is like scratches on a wall. Not thought out, just felt. I want to tell this to the breeze, to the sun, to the birds on my feeders. But they are not listening.

So I tell it to cyber air. And now I am going to cry. And maybe sleep a little. I think I need to sleep a little.

the Brits have spoken ... and I am amused

you mess with the chocolate you mess with the people.


George Tyndale, Birmingham Sunday Mercury: "Say goodbye to the delectable Creme Egg. Cadbury, one of the truly great British brands, has just been packaged up and sold to a tackey Yankee cheesemaker. That's right, Kraft, a firm famous for its plastic cheese squares, has bought up Cadbury, and our government couldn't do a thing to prevent it. So now we have to sit by and watch as British jobs go overseas. The Birmingham plant where Cadbury chocolates have been made for more than 100 years will surely be hacked, hacked, and hacked again by its new owners in the pursuit of profit. ... Kraft could easily ax any product in the Cadbury line, like Creme Eggs.


Joan Burnie, Glasgow Daily Record: "It's not as if Cadbury was in some sort of financial trouble. In fact, it was doing better than Kraft, which had to take out a huge loan to buy it. And here's the really painful kicker: Kraft borrowed the money from us, from the Royal Bank of Scotland. I suppose we'll have to accept the fact that our politicians won't do anything to stop this once proud nation becoming little more than an industrial corpse out of which the business vultures pick the choices bits. But at least they could tell those Yankees to bug off and look elsewhere for their filthy lucre."


Charlie Brooker, London Guardian: "This entire business couldn't be more distateful- literally. What if Kraft now tries to Americanize Cadbury? American chocolate is nothing short of revolting. When I first bit into a Hershey bar, I was plunged mouthwards into an entire universe of yuck. It tasted like carboard, but with a nastier, chalkier texture, as though this was a chocolate bar that had been found in the pocket of a Civil War soldier and preserved specifically for my disenchantment."


Anita Robinson, Dublin Irish News: "Americans just can't do sweets. Their most famous cookie, the Oreo, is two tooth breaking mahogany discs glued together with sweetened candle wax. Chocolate lovers everywhere can only hope that Kraft's bigwigs know how to appreciate Cadbury's uniquely creamy mouth feel, and don't try to change the recipe."


Andrew Clark, London Observer Magazine: "Takeovers happen. Stop tragically waving our union flags and calm down"

And don't you just want to go out and buy that dress?

on torturing pets

Walter the girl is a very famous cat if you hang around me. She is also getting pretty fat. She hates the cold, but really really really badly wants to go out in the evenings, so she goes out and in over and over. Makes me crazy.

Being away overnight I decided I would let her stay inside. There is a seldom used litter box, and she will be fine. My only concern is that after a few hours inside she gets crazy and I see signs of her having raced around, knocking stuff over, biting and chewing and causing general destruction.

Having left, I forgot my phone, and had to return. Walter greeted me and insisted on going out. She did not want to come back in. So I left her out. In the 20 degree weather, overnight. I threw a quilt onto the back deck chair.

I think she will make it. My only fear is that her ears will freeze and fall off. I saw a cat like that when I was a kid.

REPORT: I arrived home and flipped on the back porch light, and instead of Walter there at the door eating cat food was a fluffy big ol skunk. Walter immediately jumped out of the quilt on the chair and ran to the door, ignoring the skunk. I had to actually use my foot to prevent the skunk from coming in when I opened the door for Walter ... and after I shut the door again the skunk leisurely ate up the rest of the food and sauntered off. Walter, on the other hand, came in warm as toast and not at all put out.
Apparently cats and skunks get along fine.

winter fat

So here is my question. If one jazzes on a bleak gray winter day, does it count for double? Just the energy used up in the fight with one's brain ... "I'm going." and "Ah am CERTAINLY NOT goin." And "Shutup and just do it." and "If I go I am not stayin for the whole class."

This has to amount to some kind of calorie loss, right?

sad day for Canada

So here it is friends. A sad day for Canada. Cadbury sold itself to Kraft for 19 billion dollars. Now, you might say 19 billion is nothing to sneeze at. But Cadbury, long time British chocolate maker, producing a quality of product unsurpassed in the US, has been lost to us.

The day might come when it is no longer a Canadian right to brag about our chocolate. In fact, now that Kraft has taken on so much debt the quality might become a moot point.

I am sad. It is as if Tim Horton's had been bought out by WalMart. Or like the RCMP starting to dress like Texas troupers. We are being denuded by corporate greed.

Sigh. All I can say to my fellow Canadians is, "Stock up, baby. Stock up."