Monday, May 23, 2005

Yesterday I saw the future of the Church in America

Yesterday afternoon we had a covered dish (pot luck supper for non-Southerners) and May crowning of the Blessed Virgin with both the 'American' and the 'Hispanic' parishioners at our parish. Not too many of the 'Americans' showed up. The 'Hispanic' parishioners are mostly young families - with children. We don't see too many young families with children in our rural parishes.

We had a great time. We ate; played wiffle ball for an hour, (somehow my team was crushed). Then we processed around the church property saying the rosary (alternating between English and Spanish decades - Oh surely Latin begged to be used here. Unfortunately few know the Ave and Pater Noster in the Latin). During the last decade we entered the Church. We each presented a flower to our Lady and young girl named Maria crowned her. We sang a few hymns (some English/some Spanish - again Latin would have brought us together.)

My daughter was trying to teach us some rudimentary phrases in Spanish on the way there yesterday. She (who has taken 2 years in college) says she exhausted her vocabulary in about 20 minutes.


We lost a hen this weekend. She laid our biggest eggs, but her production had been down a little the past few weeks, (4-5 eggs a week instead of one a day). Friday (I am told) she didn't walk around much and didn't seem to want to eat. Saturday she was in bad shape. We isolated her - but she died quickly. Because of the swiftness of the death we are really unsure of the cause - usually chicken sickness and death is a little slower - from my reading.

My oldest son dug a hole to bury her. We are concerned about coyotes digging up dead animals so I told him to make the hole deep enough. He dug a deep hole, then jumped in to see how deep it was. Well, it was so deep he had to yell for help to get out.

Against all my advice, the kids had named this hen. Since all chickens will eventually end up in the pot - unless killed by predators or disease, I have warned them not to name even the hens. But somehow this one got a name. Thus some wanted a funeral. I compromised and allowed them to sing "Happy Trails to you" as I dumped her (insensitively, I am told) into the hole.

The rest of the flock looks well, but we will keep a sharp eye on them for the time being.

From the small holding in Bethune ...

Oremus pro invicem!

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