Our Beloved Phillippis

Here are some of my favorite pictures with the Phillippis!
     Friends. . .

 God sisters. . .

 Role models. . .

 Soul sisters. . .

 Men of Herculean power. . .

 . . . the power of love!

"The smallest act of pure love is of more value to the church than all other works put together."
                                                                                    (St. Therese of Lisieux)

"Above all, clothe yourselves with love, which binds everything together. . . " (Col. 3:14)

We love YOU, Phillippis!

Baptism of the Holy Spirit

     The sweetest lady in the world was just asking some important and profound questions about the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.  I have an opinion, although it is only an opinion and I have much to learn.  But so far, this is what I think:
     The Baptism of the Holy Spirit is a specific gift, a particular grace of the infusion of the Holy Spirit in a person's soul.  It is not the same as the gift of the Holy Spirit that is conferred in Baptism, Confirmation or other Sacraments.  The Baptism of the Holy Spirit is another, distinct grace in which the Holy Spirit comes to live in us in a special way and bestows gifts, specially chosen by the Father for the person.  Some receive the gift of healing, while others, prophesy, tongues, or counsel.  Many people receive more than one.  I was particularly touched by the testimony of a woman who was given the gift of joy--within hours of her Baptism in the Spirit of the Lord, she received a palpable sense of God's joy, and she said that through all the trials she later went through (and there were many), she never for a moment lost this sense.  Sometimes it was a little trickle, and other times it was a torrential flow, but it was always present.
     When these gifts are given, it remains in a person's heart forever, whether the person accesses and utilizes it or not.  The gifts of the Holy Spirit are not correlated to virtue or holiness: a person can be full of bad behaviors and have the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, and another person can be very holy, full of virtue, and never have had the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.
     The Baptism of the Holy Spirit is not necessary for salvation--a person can go to heaven without having had it.  So in that sense it is not like Baptism or the Eucharist, which Scripture speaks of as important for salvation (although God in His mercy may save many, many people who have not had these, according to Vatican II).  Baptism of the Holy Spirit is not necessary for Christian salvation, but it was, in the Early Church, one of the main pillars of the faith.  All Christians were prayed over by other Christians; they would lay their hands upon the new Christian, and pour out the Holy Spirit.  It is my humble belief that all Christians are meant for the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, and that it is one of the great impoverishments of our church today that so few have it.  Pope Benedict XVI said that all Catholics should have the baptism of the Holy Spirit.  It is not necessary, but it is what a Christian is supposed to be equipped with.  For, the Baptism of then Holy Spirit enlivens one to the beauty of the Mass, the lavish richness of Confession, the power of the Rosary, the importance of bringing the Gospel to all whom we meet, the tears of contrition and sorrow for our sins, and the crucial necessity of intimacy with the Lord in prayer, action and word.  It makes one on fire, sold out for the Kingdom.  When I read the stories of the saints, burned at the stake or tortured on the rack, I think, "There is no way to undergo this suffering without Baptism of the Holy Spirit!"  Of course there are other ways to grow intimate and refined--through suffering, and embracing one's cross.  But to me, this process is jumpstarted and emboldened by the Baptism of the Holy Spirit.  Most writings of the saints only make sense to me through this lenses--the Spirit is how they are so extreme, so aglow, so brazen.  When you meet one who is especially radiant of the Spirit of Jesus, chances are, they have had the Baptism of the Spirit.  May we all enjoy the Baptism of the Holy Spirit, and recapture the zeal of the Early Church.      

Amazing Dream

     Never do I remember having a religious dream.  I have never dreamed of church, Mass, etc. that I can recall.
     But a few nights ago, I was crying myself to sleep.  I was missing my dad, my mother in law, and my father in law who is moving away from us.  So many losses at one time.  I cried and cried, grieving certain supportive ways my dad used to talk to me, ways that my in laws have supported me.  I said to Jesus, "You are going to have to fill this hole.  It is canyon-sized--but I know you are doing this all at once so that I will be propelled to a much closer friendship with you.  I am ready."  I fell asleep with wet cheeks.
     When I woke up, I had had the most amazing dream.  A WONDERFUL priest whom I adore, Father Phi, was piloting a 2 seater airplane, and I was the other passenger seated next to him.  We were flying over Tampa Bay.  The waters were shimmering blue.  In the dream, he was laughing like a child, and he said to me, "Ready for a ride?  Watch this!"  And he zoomed the plane in circles in the air.  Then he took a nose dive toward the water, swooping up just before we hit.  He laughed and laughed, and I started laughing.  We laughed together, my hair flying in the air, and I shouted as I raised my hands above my head as though I were on a roller coaster.  Truly, Jesus (represented by the priest in the dream), was saying to me, "I am your friend; stay with me.  I will bring you great joy!"  The dream went on to a celebration of Mass in a church, with another one of my favorite priests, Fr. Anthony G.  The Mass was full of a palpable goodness, and I was relishing the lightness of the glory of God.
     I woke up and started to laugh.  God was so quick and deft in responding my my cry.  The dream was clearly not the usual processing of the dregs of my miserable unconscious; it had nothing of the eerie strangeness of most of my dreams.  It felt like a gift from heaven, and invitation to a new level of friendship and intimacy with the one who is a perfect fit for my soul.

The Ozarks

     We went camping in the Ozarks.  Spur of the moment decision, instigated by, of course, Ron.  It was pure delight: R and R at its best!
     Leigh was my "Buddy": we were inseparable.  She said, "I have four buddies: Mom, Dad, God the Father, and Jesus."  By the end of the trip, Annie was hugging Leigh constantly.  So Leigh declared: "Now I have 5 buddies!"  Truly, it was a time of great love.

     Ron said, "The nice thing about camping in the winter is that no one else goes then.  So you have the area all to yourself."  Hmmmmmmmm. . . . . .  .
    It was COLD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    At least we had a nice little cabin: our "castle in the cloud."  We are now all sold in the idea of cabin vacationing.

Lots of games, watching the fire, and napping. 

     The cabin was at the top of White Rock Mountain in Arkansas.  When I say "The top," I mean that there was a hundred (AT LEAST) foot drop all the way around the rim, and that is just the peak of the mountain--we were truly in the clouds.  

     We took a hike around the rim: there was a trail, but it was only about 2 feet wide.  At one point, the kids were joking around a little bit.  Ron said, "Kids, you don't understand: the woman said to me, 'I would never take kids on that trail--they might fall off!'"  That was when I realized that we were going against ALL conventional wisdom and truly risking our lives--tripping on a tree root, and down you go!  WOW!!  (The picture does not even begin to reflect the dramatic quality of  much of the trail.)  

But the kids were amazingly obedient, self-controlled, and loved the views and the fresh air.  They had a blast!  Even Annie enjoyed the ride! 

     Although at one point, Leigh (whose hand I held every step of the way) said to me, "I think I am too young to be here.  I could get killed."  I said, "Oh sweetheart, I've got your hand.  Nothing's going to happen to you!"  But five minutes later she piped up, "I think I'd rather be playing Uno.  I'm good at Uno!"  So, so sweet (and smart)!  I love that girl!!

The best things to me besides the time with Ron and the kids were the sunsets and the stars.  

  

     And knitting, which I did almost constantly.
     I really needed the rest, and our entire family got a wonderful chance to restore, body and spirit.

A loss and a gain

     Maw Maw's death is quite a loss.   So, so hard for Ron, the kids, Ronnie Sr., and all of us.
     Her funeral was so beautiful.  Such a powerful wake and funeral.  Many, many people said how taken they were with it.  One friend said, "Now I know why Miss Donna was Catholic!"  A relative said he wanted to become Catholic as a result of the funeral Mass.  It was unquestionably powerful.
     Jake said he would photograph the masses of people, but the pictures do not begin to convey how many were there:

Wonderful friends came, and it was such a joy to receive their love!

My wonderful sister!

My wonderful friend! (Annie calls her "Mama!")

Donna's life has only begun to impact us all.  She was all about humility, all about love, all about accepting crosses and finding Jesus within them.  She is a saint, a teacher, and an inspiration.  We love you, Maw Maw!

Every Moment Counts

     I love my life.  I have a great family, home, wonderful friends and family.
     That said, it is HARD.  Today, as every day, I could hardly make it through.  I knew it before I descended the stairs: it was going to be a challenge.  Paying the bills with a baby who wants to scribble on the checks; laundry for seven--can you imagine how many loads that is?  Doing phonics and math and spelling and reading, and not letting them watch TV, so encouraging a game instead. . . it is sensory overload, it is exhausting, and it is. . . did I mention exhausting?
     But I prayed before I went down this morning.  I offered my day to be Eucharist--the broken body--for my loved ones.  I was challenged all day, but I was wrapped up in the love of God all day.
     Today was not lost.  It was not unimportant.  It was not any less important than Jesus falling down as he walked to Calvary, or a woman wiping the sweat from his brow.  Jesus' life was hidden, but important.  As a Catholic, every single thing I do--feeding my children, mopping the floors, greeting a stranger, sending a note--is an act of corporal or spiritual mercy.  It feels small and private, but I know that, united with the life of Christ, it is important.
     I do not know how I would survive without the sacraments, without offering up the details of my day to be united to the cross of Christ--I do not think I could sustain this life as anything other than a Catholic.  Every moment counts, and that makes a world of difference.