Wednesday, March 17, 2010
A St. Pat's Day Blessing For You!
A story about karma and luck . . .
His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer. One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog. He dropped his tools and ran to the bog.
There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself. Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.
The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman's sparse surroundings. An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.
'I want to repay you,' said the nobleman. 'You saved my son's life.'
'No, I can't accept payment for what I did,' the Scottish farmer replied waving off the offer. At that moment, the farmer's own son came to the door of the family hovel.
'Is that your son?' the nobleman asked.
'Yes,' the farmer replied proudly.
'I'll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy If the lad is anything like his father, he'll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of.' And that he did.
Farmer Fleming's son attended the very best schools and in time, graduated from St. Mary's Hospital Medical School in London, and went on to become known throughout the world as the noted Sir Alexander Fleming, the discoverer of Penicillin.
Years afterward, the same nobleman's son who was saved from the bog was stricken with pneumonia.
What saved his life this time? Penicillin.
The name of the nobleman? Lord Randolph Churchill ... His son's name?
Sir Winston Churchill.
Someone once said: What goes around comes around.
Work like you don't need the money.
Love like you've never been hurt.
Dance like nobody's watching.
Sing like nobody's listening.
Live like it's Heaven on Earth.
An Irish Blessing for you:
May there always be work for your hands to do;
May your purse always hold a coin or two;
May the sun always shine on your windowpane;
May a rainbow be certain to follow each rain;
May the hand of a friend always be near you;
May God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you and may you be in heaven a half hour before the devil knows your'e dead.
And a joke to finish it out:
A cop pulls him over.
" So," says the cop to the driver, where have ya been?"
"Why, I've been to the pub of course," slurs the drunk.
" Well," says the cop, "it looks like you've had quite a few to drink this evening."
" I did all right," the drunk says with a smile.
"Did you know," says the cop, standing straight and folding his arms across his chest,
that a few intersections back, your wife fell out of your car?"
"Oh, thank heavens," sighs the drunk.
"For a minute there, I thought I'd gone deaf."
Happy Birthday - St. Catherine of Siena
"By humble and faithful prayer, the soul acquires, with time and perseverance, every virtue". -St. Catherine of Siena
Her sister died in childbed. Catherine was heartbroken, thinking that her sister had died as a consequence of the earthly pleasures that Catherine had wanted to avoid, but flirted with during the time she took care of her looks. God's wrath in consequence had taken her dearest sibling from her. And within a year, the younger sister named Giovanna also died.
While tormented with sorrow and guilt, sixteen-year-old Catherine was now faced with her parents' wish that she marry Bonaventura's widower. Absolutely opposed to this, she started a massive fast, something she had learnt from Bonaventura, whose husband had not been considerate in the least. Bonaventura had changed his attitude by refusing to eat until he showed better manners.
This had taught Catherine the power of fasting in close relationships. She claimed to feel "jubilant" when cutting off her long hair. Her despairing parents and brothers resorted to menaces, attempts of persuasion and downright violence to change her mind.
Later she advised her confessor and biographer Raymond of Capua to do during times of trouble what she had done as a teenager: "Build a cell inside your mind, from which you can never flee." In this inner cell she made her father into a representation of Christ, Lapa into St. Mary, and her brothers into the apostles.
Serving them humbly became an opportunity for spiritual growth. The more suffering, the larger her triumph was. Eventually her father gave up and permitted her to live as she pleased. Amidst her family circle.
She gave up the shirt made from horse hair, replacing it with a chain that dug into the skin of her hips. This chain she wore until the end of her life. She slept on a wooden bench with a stone for a cushion. Three times a day she hit herself with the steel chain: Once for her sins, once for the living and once for the dead, every round lasting one and a half hour.
Her mother despaired at the sight of her emaciated, self-torturing daughter, and Catherine herself was depressed, often weeping and believing herself haunted by evil spirits.
If you want to read more and there is more - check it out at Wikipedia.
It's rough to be a saint.