Advent is here and that means that I am doing a lot of writing at my two churchy blogs – Pastoral Postings and The Parish Blog of St. Edward the Confessor. Sometimes the postings are the same and sometimes not – please stop by and comment if you wish!
Thought provoking, isn’t it?
If some element of the Gospel does not make one supremely uncomfortable in some way, then I think one is doing it wrong. The Gospel should offer more challenge than solace, if you ask me.
Sadly, it usually goes the other way around. The next time I feel “justified” by the Gospel position on something, I think I ought to make sure that I go read something that makes me want to run, screaming – from the room.
(Be warned, this is a bit of a ramble. Nothing too graphic, but a ramble!)
(I had no idea that I would find this graphic. Seriously!)
Shocking headline! Right? Not expected here, but here it is. There will be sex. I am sure that many will disagree, but I think that sexual harassment in the workplace and in life is so much more prevalent than anyone cares to admit. There – I’ve said it. There will be sex.
We do a lot of hand-wringing about sex – our culture is obsessed with the distant poles of purity and smut. As we live in such a divided and dualistic culture, it should be no surprise that people take refuge at one point or the other, ignoring that vast landscape in between. And – at great risk, we ignore the real problem.
Sex? Private business – stay out of my business and my body! Sex – don’t do that, we should make more laws and your sex is a threat to my life! I can do what I want with my body. You can’t do what you want with your body! It goes on and on.
I am still aghast at those who think that what a certain politician did with his cellphone and photos is none of our business and does not impair his judgment. Seriously? And I suppose those same folks would feel otherwise about a certain candidate much in the news these days. Hellooooo… not really so different from one another. Some may decry the first one and pooh-pooh accusations against the second one. Whatever.
“So what?” say some, “how do we know that he really did that? Maybe she is just some opportunistic golddigger or harpy? Others may sneer, ” Or maybe she asked for it.” Others will intone that all men are scum. Seriously? Are we still stuck in these places? *sigh* Seriously?
In any case, I will posit that it is not the sex that makes me crazy. I am not minimizing or glorifying the sex, but I just always believe that sex is the symptom or manifestation. The problem? Power. Lust. Lust for power.
The more we worry about sex the less we keep our eye on the ball of power and the ball of power is flying all over the place. It is so much more problematic. If you don’t think so, I suggest you ask a Tea Partier what the big problem is. (They will tell you government has too much power.) Or perhaps ask an Occupy Wall Street or Occupy Fill-In-The-Blank person. (They will tell you that The Man has too much power.)
My friend Melinda Henneberger, now writing a fine feature called The Conversation, at the Washington Post recently posted about the Herman Cain situation and women in the workplace. This piece is really worth your few minutes to read. Sex in the workplace is pretty much always about power. Politicians and sex? Power for certain. I could go on and on.
As someone who was sexually compromised in childhood, I have a lot of sensitivity about these issues. The study of such things has been a big part of my path of healing. As someone who spent much of her early adult life in a not-healed place, I had a “pick me” target drawn on my clothing for bad sexual-power-encounters. That’s all I will say about that, but figure it out. I’m no victim, but I was in a lot of bad situations because I believed that I had no power and I must have deserved what I got.
Then I was once actually involved in a workplace sexual harassment case. Without meaning to… You see, I never meant to tell. No one tried to do anything to me, but I was in a terrible situation with a co-worker, someone I knew for a long time. He was in a bad spot- lots of personal issues and problems galore at home. And he liked his liquor. A lot.
We were at a company meeting and he and I were in a larger room together, others were near but not that near. In his drunken state he started to move and use his hands to describe sexual acts. I froze. He used very graphic language – very. Then he went there – he asked if I did that with my boyfriend. My frozen state remained frozen, so I said nothing. I stood very still. It reminded me of childhood, when I believed if I stayed so still and so quiet that he wouldn’t see me and then maybe the “Bad Things” would not happen. I think I must have stopped breathing too.
He kept on. More movements and hip thrusts. Hand gestures that were lurid. Language that was so graphic that it felt violent. Then, like something in a movie, someone entered our sphere and said hi. He stopped and changed gears so quickly that I felt nauseous from the speed of it. I walked away and walked out of the venue; I ran into a colleague – a female. I told her what happened and she said that there were many rumors of sexual activity between him and some of the younger women who worked in his office. She asked if I was OK and I said yes, Then I headed back to my room where I fell on the bed and cried myself to sleep. What did I do to deserve this? No – not the poor me version, but the version where you think that because something bad happened you must have done something to facilitate it.
As it happens, someone who worked for me got themselves into trouble at the same meeting at the same function on the same night and I was knee deep in that sexual harassment matters. Our Human Resources person was also a friend of mine and as we were working on this other matter one day, I mentioned what happened to me.
She froze. Then she told me that she had a professional obligation to report and investigate this claim now too. I felt truly ill now.
This story is already too long. I did not want her to go forth – I did not want to “be a bother.” Seriously! It was 2002 and I said that! 9 years ago and my head was still stuck there. It was not OK, but I did not want to (I could hear my father’s voice) “make a scene.”
So what happened? You know a firecracker that is a dud? The one that has no power and it goes out quickly and without much fanfare? No power – that’s why. Well, as it happens this gentleman was informed of the internal investigation and he immediately – apparently very immediately said – “Oh no – Fran! Oh no!” The upshoot was that he wanted to talk to me. (We were in different cities.) I agreed.
He called me and we talked. He apologized – with immediacy, with sincerity, and without guile. He cried. A lot. We talked about his personal situation for a long time; I had known him since 1987, so we had a lot of history. He was a mess, a total mess. He felt like he had no power- my words, not his. So he drank and he “took” power.
Was he doing things with women in his office? I suspect yes. Would they tell? Who knows, I am not going there. I just knew that if he continued on this path, a lot of people would be hurt. Badly. So I plainly told him that I hoped that he would get his life in order, stop the drinking and get help.
He cried. I cried. We were on the phone for a long time and he thanked me for speaking up and for accepting his apology. I felt strange – I had been validated. Someone who had done something had immediately apologized and cried. Was it sincere? I have to believe so. Grace is unpredictable, that is all I can say about that. The story probably sounds suspicious; I make it much shorter than it is because this is a post and not a book. You’ll have to take my word for it.
Today I hear of him from afar; he is remarried and I hope that he is happy.
And I keep thinking that our obsession as a culture and society with specific sexual acts and sex – no matter where we are on the religious or political spectrum – is a huge distraction to a big problem. Oh there will be sex, but it is really power that concerns me much more.
What ultimately is on my heart is the need for us to find our collective soul in some way, but will that happen? I do not know. Sex – there will be sex, but I hope that what we can ultimately address with meaning is the evil of power and its stranglehold on our world. I know – good luck with that, right?
This was not the summer of 1980, but November 2007!
It was the summer of 1980, I think. I had been out of college for a year, worked in New York City and basically felt as if I owned the world. I longed to travel and as it happened, I had come into possession of an American Express card. This seemed to catapult me to some sort of adulthood not known before. It was as if the plastic rectangle, green with black raised letters and numbers said, “Go!” So I did.
Eastern Airlines (remember them?! they turned into the greatest single source of frequent flyer miles that I ever knew…) had introduced transcontinal widebody jet service from New York to California, so I decided that it was time to visit a friend who was living and working in the as-yet-unnamed Silicon Valley. Maybe it was called that – who knows, but it was not part of the common language. He worked with something called semiconductors and was very smart and had gone to Princeton, so I just figured that whatever he did was Important. Who cared? I wanted to visit California!
Off I went, flying to San Francisco. A couple of things happened on this trip, words uttered to me in passing, that I hold in my heart here, 31 years later.
One utterer of such words was the man I was sitting next to on the plane. This gentleman, from San Francisco, had paid his first visit to NYC and was headed home. He loved NY, but one thing upset him… He said that people were in way too much of a hurry and that it seemed awful to him that we ate as we walked down the street. He could not fathom not stopping to eat. As a New Yorker and as a young New Yorker (not yet 23), I had no clue what he was trying to say.
What he was talking about was being present to one’s food and the need to stop. Stop. Stop. Eat. Go. Not EatGoEatGo. He seemed mildly amusing to me with this thought that he went on about at length; he could see that I did not understand why walking down the street while shoving a hot dog in your mouth was not a good thing.
The man must have been about 40-something. To me, he seemed ancient and eccentric. However, looking back, he was neither and he was if anything, prophetic.
The other utterer of words was the woman who then ran the San Francisco office of my then-employer. I had spoken to her on the phone plenty and then, as now, I was driven to meet people who passed through my life. So I had made plans to meet her for lunch.
We met up and had a marvelous lunch at Green’s, which was then both new and impossible to get into. Apparently she had held a reservation there for some time and was planning on taking a client to lunch. I’m not sure how I ended up with the lucky lunch ticket, but I did. It was my introduction to a kind of food that was at that time quite unusual for a hot-dog-eating-and-walking-girl like myself. I can still taste that salad… Mmmm.
In any case, after lunch, we took a walk – it was a spectacular day. This woman, who was 45, she told me her age, which shocked me at the time, went on to relay a wistful story to me. I think that I had asked her about her life as a single business woman in San Francisco. (As I aspired to be that selfsame thing in NYC.) She said that she loved it but had become more and more aware of the transient nature of life.
This conversation made me vaguely uncomfortable, a feeling that I did not have the words for then, but that I can still conjure up today, with little effort. In any case, she went on to say that after years of city living, she noted that she would have wonderful, full, rich circles of friends only to have a year or two pass, and then they had all moved on. As we strolled, she spoke about how sad this was to her; people that were her closest circle and then they either moved, got new jobs, got married – or got divorced and they went away. Every few years the circle would recycle completely and she found it unsettling.
At the time I had no clue what she was saying, but I do know that I did not at all like how it felt when I heard her words. As a 22 year old, I had no idea what to say and at some point, it seemed like she caught herself being misunderstood and changed the subject. I don’t think I ever saw or spoke to her again.
Here I am, about to turn 54. I recall with tremendous clarity, my 50th birthday. Although I had gotten married in April of 2007, I did not move to Clifton Park full time until Thanksgiving 2007. So on my 50th birthday, I was actually at my house in Nyack and as it happened, that was the very last day I ever went into the office at my former employer. (After a 21 year career…)
I met up with a group of friends after work and we had a lovely celebration. Now I look back and I am only in touch with 2 of the people that were present there. Other than the odd Facebook contact, if that, the group has recycled.
This makes me kind of sad and I am reminded of that woman in San Francisco in 1980.
I’m not sure why this is and I do know that I am in the right place, but as I approach 54, I am reminded of these two things.
Now I can see the value of stopping to eat and be aware, for health purposes and also because (warning – church nerd alert!) and maybe even more importantly, it is also essential eucharistic theology.
As for friends… that is another post for another day. I do know that I have this photo from that day and this is the only photo that I can find from that day! As it happens, my beloved Evan and I are still friends and I hope to see him by week’s end.
This post is twice as long as I’d like it to be and I really must get to work, but this was on my heart today and it is out in the world now.
I will end by inserting this song from 1978… Time Passages. I must be getting old!
The year was 2001 and it was my first as a homeowner. Having grown up in apartments, I knew little of the tasks required. One of the things that attracted me to my home, purchased in the summer of 2001, were the many trees spread around the quarter acre of land. Ah, nature!
Until you have to deal with it, that is.
After the first leaves of fall began to blanket my large yard, I got out the brand new rake, which I had purchased with hope and pride at my local ginormous home improvement store. With the dark shadow of 9/11 not so far behind me, suddenly I felt a renewed sense of enthusiasm as I surveyed the land on this sunny, crisp autumn day as I began to rake. And rake. And rake. And rake.
It seemed like all I did that day was rake, rake, rake. That is because all I did that day was rake, rake, rake. After a few hours, many leaves remained on the ground, I had filled numerous big brown leaf bags, my back hurt and my hand was sporting a blister to rival any I had seen before.
Ouch.
That night, I put down my rake, declined a dinner invitation and took a long, hot bath. I also decided that I would never rake again. Can’t you see me, all Scarlett O’Hara-ish shaking my blistered fist at the sky! Never again! I called a local business and suddenly, my yard was magically cleared of leaves while I was off at work.
Bliss.
Fast-forward ten years. My yard is smaller, there are less trees and my husband is amazing in his propensity for yard work. I have rarely picked up a rake. However, time and circumstances have conspired to have him away for the weekend, yet those leaves have created a carpet on the lawn. There is but one choice.
I. Must. Rake.
Suddenly I find myself in the yard on a sunny Sunday, a bit warm – not really the crispness that I remember from 2011. This time I am smart enough to wear gloves. I also pray this time – because I really need the help.
Scratch, scratch, scratch goes the sound of the rake against the lawn, the oak leaves creaking themselves into brown piles, with a smattering of long pine needles as company. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.
It occurs to me that I have broken a vow – my vow to never, ever, ever and I did mean never ever, rake again. Fiddle-dee-dee – isn’t life funny? Yet here I am, dragging that same fancy rake (I did keep it and my husband has only recently pressed it into use after his old rake fell apart) around the yard.
Grace is with me in this sacrament of raking. This raking is not some heroic task – that I can assure you. I am no martyr-of-the-yard. What this is is different. The amount of work my husband has to do exceeds the time which he has. I must help him. It is that simple.
Listening to podcasts, then music, on my iPod, I continue to rake, stopping only once to converse with a neighbor. “It looks great,” she says. She and her husband are new to the street and I think that they are struck by the amount of leaves everywhere. You see, like my old house, this area has the appeal of so many trees – big, old, oak trees everywhere. It is beautiful, but that beauty demands a sacrifice. The sacrifice is the rake.
I tell her that this is how much I love my husband, so much that I am actually raking, that it is a sacrament. We laugh together, she understands. We speak of the ways in which marriage shapes us, the invitation to go to the hard places and stay there. “Hanging in,” she calls it. Yes, hanging in.
Rake. Rake. Rake.
Hours pass. I am slow at this but somehow 7 large bags are full of dry leaves. The sun is setting and I must go indoors.
Marriage is often a dream of romance, but I think I have found the better part as I took up my rake. It was a sacrament and to it I will return.
Over and over and over again.
We Have A Winner!. This post was meant for this blog, not the parish blog, but things like this happen when you’ve got 3 blogs going! Congrats to Paul Snatchko!
We had so many people come by the blog yesterday to check out all the posts about A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms! I will be pulling together a means of selecting winners (translation: I am putting names on pieces of paper, dropping them into a bag and waiting for my co-worker to come in to draw two out!) and they will be announced later on all 3 blogs. I will also reach out to the winners by email.
Thanks again, keep reading – the blog and as many books as you can – and God bless one and all!
A special thanks to Lisa Hendey and Ave Maria Press for what they did to make this big day possible.
A blessed All Souls Day to you all!
Like any good Catholic kid growing up in the 60’s, I had favorite saints, those holy people who brought me comfort and fed my curiosity and imagination. How I loved the Blessed Virgin Mary! Then there was Saint Anthony, who stood there in his plaster glory, with all the old ladies standing around the base of his statue, touching his foot, deep in prayer. I knew he would help me find things if I lost them. Saint Therese – oh, I thought she was the greatest; mostly because I liked the look of her habit and that she had those roses! Over the years I drifted far from church, but never far from my love of the entire company of saints.
That is why I love to read any book about the communio sanctorum, or communion of saints. How can one not be inspired by these people who were human, ordinary, and yet quite extraordinary as they lived lives of challenge, grace and hope in Christ?
A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms, a new book by Lisa M. Hendey, from Ave Maria Press, is a great resource for not only learning about the saints, but also for finding ways to nurture your spirit and the spirit of your family and friends. While this book is aimed at Catholic mothers, I can see it put to use in many wonderful ways.
Hendey lovingly presents us with “52 companions for (y)our heart, mind, body and soul,” in a format that is pointed to weekly use. We learn about saints that are well known by all, such as The Blessed Virgin Mary, St. Therese of Lisieux, and St. Bernadette. Personally, I was delighted to find others that I love… St. Mary MacKillop and St. Andre Bessette to name two of them. However, there are lesser-known saints as well, and not only the canonized, reminding us of the essential truth that we are all invited to be saints.
Each chapter is organized around basic information about the saint, and their story, along with sub-headings for lessons, traditions and wisdom from that person. I loved the “This Week with Scripture” element, which draws one into daily Scriptural prayer. Hendey offers suggestions for activities, prayer for families, and the prompting to ponder some questions as each chapter draws to a close.
The format is easy to read, as well easy to use in a practical manner, all done in a way that will feed one’s spirit. The author’s writing style is comfortable and welcoming, inviting anyone who picks up this book to stick around for the journey.
Is this a book for Catholic moms? Yes! Is this a book that can be read by others? Absolutely! I can easily see it put into use as part of small faith sharing groups, prayer circles or as an element of intergenerational catechesis.
Not Catholic? I know many people who have curiosity about the saints. While there is no shortage of books about them, I would unabashedly recommend this volume to anyone who wanted to learn more, and prayerfully enter into relationship with people we pray through, not to, on our journey with Christ. Not a mom? Not a problem! You can take this book as a prayerful companion along the way, exploring ways to walk and pray with the saints.
Typically I get ahead of myself and I find myself doing so now, getting a glimpse of the sadness that I will feel in one year, as my use of this book will draw to a close! Once again, the saints remind however, that I must stay in the moment that I have. And I think I see this book becoming one that I will return to over and over again. I hope that you will take this walk with me, with Lisa M. Hendey and most of all, with the saints themselves, as we go along our way.
(Remember – leave a comment before midnight on 11/1/11 and you might win a copy of your own!)
When offered the chance to present you with a short excerpt from A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms by Lisa M. Hendey, I began to panic… How could I set aside just a little of this fine book? Well, prayer brought the answer, thank you Holy Spirit!
It occurred to me, someone who thinks of herself not as Catholic mom, but as Catholic step-mom, that the lessons from St. Thomas More on “finding blessings in a blended family,” in chapter 25 spoke directly to me. Even if you don’t live in a blended family, I’m guessing that you know someone who does. Here is but a brief example of what you will find in this excellent book. (And don’t forget to leave a comment, you may win a copy of this fine book!)
LESSONS FROM THOMAS
Thomas More is perhaps best known for his role as a statesman, an
apologist, and an important figure in English political history. But
when I turn to him in conversation, it’s most frequently for his expertise
as a loving parent. As a daddy’s girl and the eldest in my family,
it’s easy for me to relate to the affectionate relationship Thomas cherished
with his oldest daughter, Margaret. Like my own father—who
calls each of us his favorite when the others aren’t around—More had
enough love to go around and showered it abundantly on his children.
Politics, writing, and the law aside, family life was something
Thomas More treasured. He believed passionately in the faith formation
of his children, encouraging them to read aloud from scriptures at
the family dinner table and modeling a disciplined prayer life. He was
also a firm champion of classical schooling and saw that all of his children,
including his daughters, received a formal education.When tragedy hit the More home with the death of Thomas’s first
wife, Jane, he was relatively quick to wed Alice Middleton. He recognized
the importance of a mother for his four young children and welcomed
Alice and her own daughter, also named Alice, into the home.
More would also raise the orphaned Margaret “Mercy” Giggs as a foster
daughter following the death of her mother, a midwife.
With more Catholics than ever living in blended families, we can
look to the home of Thomas More for inspiration in meeting the challenges
that stepparents, adoptive parents, and foster parents face. My
good friend Heidi Hess Saxton, an adoptive mom, an author, and
founder of the Extraordinary Moms Network, once described the
distinctive example Thomas offers for parents facing special obstacles
and blessings.Foster and adoptive parents need to be especially flexible
and open to changes to “the plan.” And yet, like
Saint Thomas, we also need to be prepared to stand
for truth, and to guard against the negative influences
of society. As foster parents, we are often called upon
to mitigate the negative effects of our children’s early
experiences. Loving discipline, combined with large
doses of patience (of which I am naturally in short supply,
but God provides!), will help to ensure that however
rocky their beginnings, our children will blossom
to become who God originally created them to be.
SOMETHING TO PONDER
Are you raising your children to follow their consciences when making
life decisions? When faced with choices in your own life, do you
pray prior to acting?An image of St. Thomas More with his family.
(This excerpt is presented courtesy of Lisa Hendey and Ave Maria Press; all rights reserved.)
Today we welcome Lisa M. Hendey – Wife, Mom, Writer, Webmaster, Podcaster, who is making a stop here on 
her Blog Tour 2011, as she promotes her latest book, A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms.
As I have been saying all along, this is a great book and you don’t even need to be Catholic or a mom to enjoy it. (My review will be published at 1 pm today, stay tuned.)
In this post, visit with Lisa as she answers some questions that I put forth to her… Our original plan was for 5 questions, Lisa graciously answered that 6th question I threw in, what a good sport! Thanks for joining us today!
1. What is a day in the life of a Catholic-mom-author-blogger-and media queen like these days?
Hi Fran and thanks for the warm welcome to your blogs! I don’t know about that “media queen” part but life is full, happy and busy these days. I’m still committed to my primary vocation as wife and mom and still always working at having a fruitful spiritual life, so those are truly my two biggest priorities. My days start early, since we’re out here in California and many of my contacts are back East, with prayer and quiet time. My one son who’s still at home is in high school, so getting him settled off to school before is a “break” on the days when my “work day” has begun before the sun rises. As a blogger and the editor of CatholicMom.com, I spend a great deal of time writing and editing but truthfully seeing our columnists’ wonderful contributions to the site is a daily dose of encouragement for me. These days, I am also spending a good bit of time with radio opportunities (I’m a regular contributor on EWTN’s The Son Rise Morning Show and a guest on a few other shows) and speaking. I’ve been blessed to have the chance to travel and to speak all over the country in the past few years. This opportunity to go out and meet the people who have read my work online or my books is a real joy. Blogging and writing can be very solitary pursuits, so speaking feeds the “extrovert” part of my personality and it’s really just very fun to have the chance to pray with and be inspired by so many wonderful people I meet on the road. At home, I’m surrounded by three musicians (my husband and two sons), so our home is filled with “sound” all the time. Another little known hobby of mine is playing mahjong with a group of my best friends a few times per month. It’s a wonderful life!
2. What prompted you to write your latest book about the saints?
I have had a deep love of and connection with the saints for many years, instilled by my parents and fostered by a family priest who enjoyed preaching and sharing the stories of the lives of the saints both in Church and around our family dinner table. When my wonderful publisher, Ave Maria Press, and my editor Eileen Ponder and I began thinking about a good follow up to my first book, The Handbook for Catholic Moms, a book on the lives of the saints felt like a wonderful choice. In The Handbook for Catholic Moms, I urged mothers to care for themselves “heart, mind, body and soul” so that they could better care for their families, our Church and the world around them. In A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms, we’ve offered over fifty spiritual companions who point us to heaven by their lives and their examples of virtuous living, often under very challenging circumstances. By learning about their lives, following their role model, and praying through their intercession, we ourselves have the opportunity to grow closer to Christ.
3. Who is your favorite saint and why?
This question is always a challenge for me, since I have so many saintly “friendships”. I turn to many of the intercessors mentioned in the book on a regular basis for their guidance and intercession. To mention a few, I’d include St. Gianna Beretta Molla, St. Damien of Molokai, St. Josephine Bakhita, Blessed Kateri Tekakwitha, Blessed Louis and Zelie Martin, St. Andre Bessette and my personal patroness, St. Therese of Lisieux. I continually find inspiration in the life and writing of the Little Flower — for me, she shows that even a housewife can respond to the missionary call to be Christ to others and to share our love for him in all we do, even in the little, insignificant tasks that fill my day. There is a reason that this Doctor of the Church is a heroine to so many, and I learn something new from her work every time I pray through her intercession.
4. What about other favorite saints, the non-canonized variety – a Catholic role model, living or deceased?
I’m blessed to be surrounded by saints! I’d point to my own parents, Pat and Anne, who show me daily what the path to heaven and the vocation to marriage and family life should look like. I also pray frequently for the soul of (and through the intercession of) my childhood pastor, Msgr. Michael Collins. Father Collins (he hated being called Monsignor!) really brought the faith to life for me. He lived into his nineties and was still ministering every day to folks in his seaside community in Seal Beach, California on a daily basis. I miss Father Collins every day, but know that he continues to shine a light for so many of us who found Christ and had their faith strengthened through his preaching and example. I wish everyone could count a holy, Irish priest as a dear friend!
5. What are you most grateful for?
This is a difficult question — so many blessings abound in my life! I’m most grateful for the gift of my faith and for the blessing of the Eucharist, which strengthens me when I am weak and shores up my many shortcomings to do the work (both in my home and in the world) that God is calling me to do.
6. Bonus question if you will indulge us– how did your blog-tour VW bus Arnold get his name?
Arnold, our 1974 VW bus, was a gift that Greg and I gave each other for a wedding anniversary a few years back. He’s named for his original owner, a mechanic named Arnold who had recently died when his son sold us the bus. Arnold, the owner, lovingly cared for the bus for so many years and it was in great shape when we bought it. We drive Arnold the bus to mass every Sunday and people smile as soon as they see “him”! It’s funny that owning a VW bus brings you into contact with folks all the time — everyone has a “bus story”. Whenever we are out in Arnold, we have very fun conversations with folks in parking lots who love to recount their adventures involving busses! So Arnold is the perfect traveling companion for a journey that involves telling the stories of the saints in A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms.
Don’t forget – leave a comment and you may win a copy of A Book of Saints for Catholic Moms!
