Oh Golly Gosh… I’ve been too lazy to blog but this just had to be posted! It’s so good. Where there is a will! If silent monks ever wanted to sing along 🙂
Love, Love, LOVE, this poem! got it from What Does Prayer Really Say:
THE TRIMMIN’S ON THE ROSARY by John O’Brien
Ah, the memories that find me now my hair is turning gray,
Drifting in like painted butterflies from paddocks far away;
Dripping dainty wings in fancy – and the pictures, fading fast,
Stand again in rose and purple in the album of the past.
There’s the old slab dwelling dreaming by the wistful, watchful trees,
Where the coolabahs are listening to the stories of the breeze;
There’s a homely welcome beaming from its big, bright friendly eyes,
With The Sugarloaf behind it blackened in against the skies;
There’s the same dear happy circle round the boree’s cheery blaze
With a little Irish mother telling tales of other days.
She had one sweet, holy custom which I never can forget,
And a gentle benediction crowns her memory for it yet;
I can see that little mother still and hear her as she pleads,
“Now it’s getting on to bed-time; all you childer get your beads.”
There were no steel-bound conventions in that old slab dwelling free;
Only this – each night she lined us up to say the Rosary;
E’en the stranger there, who stayed the night upon his journey, knew
He must join the little circle, ay, and take his decade too.
I believe she darkly plotted, when a sinner hove in sight
Who was known to say no prayer at all, to make him stay the night.
Then we’d softly gather round her, and we’d speak in accents low,
And pray like Sainted Dominic so many years ago;
And the little Irish mother’s face was radiant, for she knew
That “where two or three are gathered” He is gathered with them too.
O’er the paters and the aves how her reverent head would bend!
How she’d kiss the cross devoutly when she counted to the end!
And the visitor would rise at once, and brush his knees – and then
He’d look very, very foolish as he took the boards again.
She had other prayers to keep him. They were long, long prayers in truth;
And we used to call them “Trimmin’s” in my disrespectful youth.
She would pray for kith and kin, and all the friends she’d ever known,
Yes, and everyone of us could boast a “trimmin”’ all his own.
She would pray for all our little needs, and every shade of care
That might darken o’er The Sugarloaf, she’d meet it with a prayer.
She would pray for this one’s “sore complaint,” or that one’s “hurted hand,”
Or that someone else might make a deal and get “that bit of land”;
Or that Dad might sell the cattle well, and seasons good might rule,
So that little John, the weakly one, might go away to school.
There were trimmin’s, too, that came and went; but ne’er she closed without
Adding one for something special “none of you must speak about.”
Gentle was that little mother, and her wit would sparkle free,
But she’d murder him who looked around while at the Rosary:
And if perchance you lost your beads, disaster waited you,
For the only one she’d pardon was “himself” – because she knew
He was hopeless, and ‘twas sinful what excuses he’d invent,
So she let him have his fingers, and he cracked them as he went,
And, bedad, he wasn’t certain if he’d counted five or ten,
Yet he’d face the crisis bravely, and would start around again;
But she tallied all the decades, and she’d block him on the spot,
With a “Glory, Daddah, Glory!” and he’d “Glory” like a shot.
She would portion out the decades to the company at large;
But when she reached the trimmin’s she would put herself in charge;
And it oft was cause for wonder how she never once forgot,
But could keep them in their order till she went right through the lot.
For that little Irish mother’s prayers embraced the country wide;
If a neighbour met with trouble, or was taken ill, or died,
We could count upon a trimmin’ – till, in fact, it got that way
That the Rosary was but trimmin’s to the trimmin’s we would say.
Then “himself” would start keownrawning – for the public good, we thought –
“Sure you’ll have us here till mornin’. Yerra, cut them trimmin’s short!”
But she’d take him very gently, till he softened by degrees –
“Well, then, let us get it over. Come now, all hands to their knees.”
So the little Irish mother kept her trimmin’s to the last,
Every growing as the shadows o’er the old selection passed;
And she lit our drab existence with her simple faith and love,
And I know the angels lingered near to bear her prayers above,
For her children trod the path she trod, nor did they later spurn
To impress her wholesome maxims on their children in their turn.
Ay, and every “sore complaint” came right, and every “hurted hand”;
And we made a deal from time to time, and got “that bit of land”;
And Dad did sell the cattle well; and little John, her pride,
Was he who said the Mass in black the morning that she died;
So her gentle spirit triumphed – for ‘twas this, without a doubt,
Was the very special trimmin’ that she kept so dark about.
. . . . .
But the years have crowded past us, and the fledglings all have flown,
And the nest beneath The Sugarloaf no longer is their own;
For a hand has written “finis” and the book is closed for good –
Here’s a stately red-tiled mansion where the old slab dwelling stood;
There the stranger has her “evenings,” and the formal supper’s spread,
But I wonder has she “trimmin’s” now, or is the Rosary said?
Ah, those little Irish mothers passing from us one by one!
Who will write the noble story of the good that they have done?
All their children may be scattered, and their fortunes windwards hurled,
But the Trimmin’s on the Rosary will bless them round the world.
I finally had my harp lesson last week on Thursday! It went well if I should say so myself! And Nya said the harp is an angelic instrument so she may be keen to learn :). ‘Du came to visit on Saturday I hadn’t seen her in like forever and she loved the harp too!!! Now my fingers need to heal so I can practice more 😀
I fell, on tarmac!!!! On the way to church! Halfway thru the rosary!!! boo hoo and I broke my nail. You might think “Ookaaaay”, or “so what ’tis only a nail” But where it broke is the crux! Halfway down the nail bed to the cuticle! I have exposed red bleeding oozing flesh. Felt feverish yesterday the whole day and my hay fever decided to make a revenge return. Truly not a good day health wise! No, I will not be posting pics of graphic bloody toes.
I heard the 28th sundays readings four times this week. On Wednesday during Faith class, Saturday evening mass, Sunday morning and evening mass, and it comes down to one thing… it is impossible for me to get to heaven alone, to reach my potential alone, to minister to others alone… but through God, ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE!
I’m singing in the St. Johns youth band besides Holy Trinity Schola and I got my harp! YAY for me!!! All the music is so different, from practically contemporary Christian rock to Gregorian chant to classical. Good times. I really should have become a musician. then I wouldn’t be weird just an eccentric artist. Actually the eccentric would not even get mentioned, I’d just be an artiste!
I have heard enough coconut and Anglophile comments to last me a lifetime. The harp lessons may just prove a tad expensive. So we have a concert, battle of the bands thing happening this coming Saturday. Practice last Saturday only reiterated what I already know, I’m a perfectionist and a performer… sigh. Well I’m laying low and will see what happens on Saturday, reigning me in so I don’t step on toes is a full time job!
Home was grand I had so much fun! I saw gran, ma, Del-del, Evee, and everyone.
The trip took forever because the bus DIED, the Greyhound just started boiling and here we are in the middle of nowhere about 65km from Masvingo that means at least 4 hours till we get home and the BUS BREAKS DOWN. Aaarrrgghhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!! I only got home at about 23:30hrs after hitch-hiking in a truck because I had gotten tired of waiting! The bus’s schedule was that it was to arrive in Harare after 12. That never happens but 3pm is a happy compromise, right? HA did not happen!
Anyway got home saw mom, went to bed woke up early to unpack all my gifts. Such fun the sweets disappeared just like that! got into my new summer dress went and got my hair plaited; not the fiasco I had with the lady and guy who gave me chemical burn with the relaxer at Northgate grr. If it wasn’t for my neighbour who lifted me out of the doldrums just by helping me with my groceries home and by just being her, I would have finished committing mass homicide in my head on all the hairdressers in that salon. I digress. Anyway my neighbour is gone, she moved before I could bake for her 🙁 boo hoo she seemed so nice. The joys of apartment living. I digress again. As I was getting my hair plaited we got to talking about marriage; funny how that topic seems to keep coming up and then the girl who was doing my nails wants to hook me up with her cousin of sorts so he comes in and wants to check me out… ooo if I was white I would have turned beet it was so embarrassing anyway he gives me his number, he is Catholic, though a bit on the older side. And they make me leave mine behind. Wonder if he will call because I don’t call guys… mmm.
I visited my former workplace and saw former colleagues which kinda cool. I gave my aunts the gifts I had gotten them. The next day my grandma and more aunts arrived it was grand. I seem top have matured a bit more in their esteem yay! and Gogo (gran) was ecstatic over her blanket and shoes and the doek (head scarf thing) which I got her!!! Saturday I spent mostly at home and went and dance steps i.e the dance routines for the bridal party coz the grooms-men were absent for practice, went home and lazed with ma.
On Sunday got up went to church in my new African outfit, head covered of course. It was a blast meeting everyone, sang in the choir, ah how I miss Sonah sometimes… saw Taf in his ‘deacon’ clothes which my mom and half the neighbourhood think is satanic. Can’t blame them he ain’t a deacon and he wears black flowing robes. Then he comes over to my house chats a bit and asks where I have been all his life..mmm. And I go home prepare lunch and stuff for the mothers that’s gogo and my mum and her sisters. I drove over to my cousin’s place do the bride’s maids and brides make-up change into my other new African attire drive like a maniac back home because my mom is freaking out for she baked the cake and it has to go to the venue and I have her car.
We get to the wedding and finishing putting on my contacts and shoes and make-up in the bathroom, go greet everyone and take photos for mom and dance steps which I learnt the day before because they were a grooms-man short! I help collect gifts and write them down, snap the band on my shoe go home with my feet killing me and give the shoes to Del-del. All in all a good weekend!
I did learn something though, the family you marry into matters!!!! ‘nuf said!
I had a fabulous birthday! Thank you Lord for all the years you have added to my life! I have been abundantly blessed, the Almighty has done great things for me! and Holy is His name!
Also learnt of a new Saint on my bday!…
Over 50 Facebook bday msgs :O. I didn’t go to work – taxi strike! I got new music from dass! And cake of course!
St. Raymond Nonnatus
Feastday: August 31
Raymond was born at Portella, Catalonia, Spain. He was delivered by caesarean operation when his mother died in childbirth. Hence his name non natus (not born). He joined the Mercedarians under St. Peter Nolasco at Barcelona. He succeeded Peter as chief ransomer and went to Algeria to ransom slaves. He remained as hostage for several slaves when his money ran out and was sentenced to be impaled when the governor learned that he had converted several Mohammedans. He escaped the death sentence because of the ransom he would bring, but was forced to run the gauntlet. He was then tortured for continuing his evangelizing activities but was ransomed eight months later by Peter Nolasco. On his return to Barcelona in 1239, he was appointed Cardinal by Pope Gregory IX, but died at Cardona a short distance from Barcelona the next year while on the way to Rome. He was canonized in 1657. He is the patron saint of expectant mothers and midwives because of the nature of his own birth. Although his mother died in labor, Raymond miraculously survived the ordeal. His feast day is August 31. (got from http://www.catholic.org/saints/saint.php?saint_id=314 )
Johnny Appleseed…. my all-time hymn/grace/song for hikes and camps and nature. Closely followed by All things bright and beautiful! so why now cos…….
We went hiking yesterday! andI’mm not sore!!!!! It was fantab, really enjoyed it. Well except the last climb, but it was all worth it 😀 it was in Magaliesburg close to Rusternberg… and from the names, it shows its a ‘bergy’ area, lots of rocks, hills and rills, valleys and streams… all showing the awesomeness that God is, really! Also had 7 hours of chant on Saturday… transcending stuff that 😀