Tag Archives: faith

ODE TO SISTER ROBERTINE, O.P.

Dominican Sisters taught me in grades 1-12. Sister Robertine was my Latin teacher, but so much more. She was the woman who taught me what feminism looked like. She could outwit and outplay our male principal, the priest who thought he ran the school. He did not. She did. She explained, “It is a man’s world; but, a woman’s heaven. Still, you can make it yours.” When we heard clicking rosary beads (we heard her before we saw her) we knew to stand up straight and behave ourselves. She gave no quarter. I wish I had her photo. I wish every child had a Sister Robertine to love them into goodness and greatness. She has been gone many years but her words still resonate; as she explained, words always do. There were two cornerstones at our grade school read: “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” Sister Robertine struck that fear in us; then told us only the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it could be.Thank you, Sister!

Words create the reality we fear,

or one in which we can rejoice, and hold dear,

and spend our lives, seeing more clear.

Words have power to describe us,

inflame us, excite us, 

or kill what is inside us.

Words can kill when taken in

by others’ hearts mired

in grace or sin.

Sister Robertine said:

Be careful what you read,

what you see at the movies, or on T.V.

Garbage in is garbage out.

That is what words are all about.

She knew A. I. before it was accelerated

by techno wizards, not the Divine

who works at a slower pace

to afford human-kind much-needed grace.

Sister Robertine said:

Dress how you want to act,

How you hope to be,

how you want to be seen.

You can create each day,

play the part in your own play.

You will soon become 

whom you hope to be.

Dress with self-respect 

and respect you will get.

Sister Robertine said:

only “X” or “BIG X”

when our answer was incorrect.

No rewards nor praise

for getting it right.

Working hard to get it right,

to see it through

was the least we could do.

Our reward for seeking knowledge was integrity.

Our reward for dressing well was respect.

Our reward for working hard was strength.

Our reward for seeking hard truths was character.

We could then write our own play,

play our chosen roll, on our own stage.

We could live lives that mattered,

live lives in which lies were shattered.

We could live in the spotlight of grace and power

to change the world for good, hour by hour.

Like all good teachers, Sister Robertine directed the play.

I am grateful for such a teacher every single day.

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MY FIRST AND ONLY CONFESSION

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Confession is good for the soul.

I have been told.

My first confession

at the age of seven

Took Sister Mary Claude,

whose diligence I applaud,

months to abate my fear.

First in line, I strode near

the confessional where Fr. Torre

waited to hear blood and gore

from little ones whose blame-game

only recently became a cause of shame.

With whispering words I began to confess.

“Father, forgive me.”( I felt such stress.)

“This is my first confession.”

Father stopped me right there

as I sat on the edge of the chair.

He was behind the screen,

a solemn, still figure barely seen.

“Please speak up so I can hear.”

And, so I did, and started to enumerate

all my sins, expecting him to strongly berate.

His words caused me even greater fear,

“Louise, not so loud, or all will hear.”

No longer did I worry who heard what.

He knew me, when I had been taught,

confession is anonymous.

Now, I felt infamous.

How could I face him across my Mother’s table

when he came each week that he was able

to eat her suga and Italian food;

and feel like family, with buoyant mood.

My only sin that day

was what I confessed every single Saturday,

“I disobeyed my Mother 10 times a day,

every day, of every week, of every year.

I was a disobedient child who shed no tears.

And over these many years

I have never changed my insolent creed

My father told me as I stood at his knee,

“Every man puts his pants on one leg at a time.

No one is better than you; (I liked that line)

and you are no better than anyone else.”

Equality set my soul free, made my heart pulse.

Equality became the base of all courage.

Equality kept me from being discouraged.

As a woman in a man’s world and profession.

I learned to speak up and out loud in my first confession.

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Filed under FAMILY STORIES, POETRY

LEAD WITH THE HEART

Lead with the heart

and the mind will follow

a path of peace and hope,

strong enough to carry

dreams and generosity

for all those you meet.

No matter how difficult

the journey it will not be taken

alone, silently, fearfully.

The heart knows best what matters.

The heart knows the best path.

The heart unites us joyfully.

The heart beats life determinedly.

The heart overcomes strife.

Lead with the heart and do your part

to create a world worth living.

Some paths are famous and large.

Some paths are unrecognized and small.

Every path matters to those

who walk it and make it their own.

Every path converges as we move

into the great unknown.

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THUS ANGELS

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Angels surround you

though you know aught and care less.

No matter at all.

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HELP US ON OCTOBER 18th.

This is difficult to write for several reasons. 

First because I have chronic fatigue syndrome, sometime called ME, CFIDS, and now, similar to long Covid. I became very ill and disabled from my illness 36 years ago. I was told then I would be lucky to walk again, likely need a wheel chair or cane. Great medical care from osteopathic manipulative medicine and acupuncture, years of pushing physical boundaries allow me to walk, for short distances. I can care for myself at home. I taught myself to read and write again by writing in a journal every morning. Despite brain fog, I developed  a blog. My earliest efforts were poems. Gradually, I re-learned grammatical forms. Dyslexic imagery means my written words are sometimes corrupted. Lately, ChatGP has stolen even more of my words when it fails to recognize dyslexic word forms and alters words I do not always catch. My eyes and my brain take a while to catch up. Still, I must write to connect to the larger world I once participated in with gusto. 

I practiced law as the Associate Director of Legal Affairs for Ohio University and Assistant Attorney General for the state of Ohio. In my spare time I taught law as an adjunct Associate Professor to advanced undergraduate and graduate students. I taught Business Law, School Law, Vocational Education Law, Law and Medicine (at O.U.medical school), and created courses and taught Social Welfare Law and a race relations course. I co-founded OU STARS, training and mentoring students to run race relations programs and workshops. I visited other campuses, community organizations  and political groups and lectured on law as it applied to them. I love the law. I love the Constitution and the Bill Of Rights. I loved teaching and sharing my love of law with every audience available to me. 

It was difficult to be sidelined from such an active life sharing the love of the law. It is difficult now to watch the hatred of the law spewed from the lips of a president, vice-president, Secretary of State, Director of Homeland Security, every federal agency, Speaker of the House and Senate Majority Leader. Watching the dismantling of the Rule of Law is almost too painful to write about. Watching the Supreme Court ignore centuries of stare decisis, the Constitution, the Bill of Rights and every legal norm makes me want to scream until my throat is raw. it makes me tremble in disgust. Nightmares steal my sleep. I watch my country dissolve as it laws are twisted, debased, ignored and stomped upon. The only thing capable of holding together a nation dedicated to personal freedom is the law assuring no person is above the law. Otherwise disrespect and hatred toward other persons fueled by our animal nature inevitably leads to anarchy and self-destruction. We must hold the line against this administration and those who have tried to take and hold power only for themselves. To do so they must destroy the rule of law. That is what  see every day. That is what I mourn every moment. Thank God for lawyer Marc Elias. He holds our hope and beliefs in his legal briefs.

The media giants, universities, Republican state and local leaders are silent or complicit in the destruction. Worse, the voters, including family-friends-neighbors, pay little attention to what is happening. Or. worse, support what is happening. I do not know how to find forgiveness. I pray for grace to do so. Finally, my church is realizing it must oppose such forces. However, its last few decades has seen it fully supporting those destroying our freedoms because of its unwillingness to acknowledge the right of women to control their own bodies. The right of women to hold sexual power. Nothing threatens a misogynistic organization more than women holding power in their own hands. At last, heroes like Fr. Pfleger of Chicago have seen enough. They are speaking out. An answer to my prayer. I keep praying!

On October 18, I shall join millions of Americans our government has labeled traitors and evil people as we American freedom-lovers celebrate NO KINGS DAY. I ask you to join us, wherever you live. Will it place you at risk? The federal government leaders want you to think so. They want you afraid to stand up for the Constitution and laws which govern our democracy, and protect it from autocracy. We are stronger the larger the groups. If you are unable to stand on the street beside us, drive by and honk in support. If you cannot do that, encourage all you know to join us in any way they can. Please do not sit there and shake your head. Please do not lose hope. Please do not be afraid. We are stronger than we know. Never listen to those who tell you that you will never walk again, never speak nor write again, never advocate for change again. You can. You must. Help us!

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Filed under COMMENTARY, POLITICS

THE DAWN OF DISCONTENT

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Darkness has not yet lifted

from the night of a waning moon.

This is the time of discontent

when one feels most alone, but soon,

the sun shall rise.

Others choose to sleep through darkness.

I cannot. Like a lone wolf,

I choose to stay awake, woke to wonder

hidden in all I yet may discover

in people and places I have never known.

I plant seeds of yearning in my soul

that love may take root and grow

beyond my own cultural limits,

beyond the bounds of all I know.

I try to stay awake, though weary,

to watch the new day dawn.

As it surely will.

As it surely will.

As it surely will.

Turn three times and make a wish.

I wish to fearlessly face the heat of these days

with cool calm and laughter so strong

it awakens the entire world.

Will the new dawn reveal 

that which was destroyed

while an entire nation slept?

This question is what makes some people

sleep the whole day long.

Their eyes appear open, but they sleepwalk;

perhaps hoping they are dreaming

and the day is a mere nightmare

from which they will soon awake.

I cannot pretend. Not I.

Even in the dark my eyes open wide.

I must see what darkness has wrought.

I tend to the garden I have created,

to the life of growth I have sought,

as the sun rises over roots sorely stressed.

I cannot allow the plants, nor my self, to die

even though they can no longer thrive.

I am awake in the dark, but not alone.

So long as I see clearly, if not cheerily,

the life of other living things all around me

resisting the threat in the day ahead and hanging on.

Sensing our togetherness is what makes us strong.

I watch the discontented dawn.

The sun continues to rise.

As will you. As shall I.

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Filed under POETRY, POLITICS

THE PERFECT STORM

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We are in the midst of a perfect storm.

Those who seek perfection, especially

a perfection to match themselves,

which they consider the norm,

relish the chaos which leads astray

a nation once dedicated to the proposition

that “all men are created equal 

and endowed by their creator with the right

to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.”

What a lovely concept in sunny weather,

on a clear blue day.

But, those seeing red over perceived imperfection

cannot tolerate those who refuse to let the imperfect

get in the way of the possible.

They prefer to cut programs and taxes,

to keep their money in their own pockets,

show their personal largesse to those deemed worthy.

If only, they could see their own imperfections clearly.

We would not be in this frightful storm.

The winds of fascism and authoritarianism stir wildly

every manner, moral tome, and rule of law, and norm.

The rain of terror by masked militia in our streets

is more costly than housing the homeless,

feeding the hungry, educating our young people

who live with expectations of defeat.

The young see their pursuit of happiness and their freedom

being washed away, with inequality laid at their feet.

I do not believe in perfection. 

There are few perfect days.

Clouds are born by winds unseen 

shadowing perfection and laying it aside

while violent storms brew.

I do not seek the impossible. 

It is too costly and uncontrollable.

I know no policy nor program is perfect, as is no man.

Nothing makes us greater than to simply understand

we are all flawed human beings doing the best we can.

There can be no apology for silently marveling 

and supporting these dark days.

The perfect see no reason to apologize

for the greater wisdom of their ways.

We are left to raise umbrellas 

to protect as many as we can.

But, umbrellas are no match for perfect storms

created by our fellow man.

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DEMORALIZED

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Newscasters used to tell it like it is.

Now, they are opinionated forecasters.

They still tell us who.

They tell us who said why.

They no longer tell us 

what, when or how.

That would expose the lie.

No wonder we are demoralized

within both its meanings, 

no surprise.

First losses began long ago:

No more manners as a guide.

No more conscience to lower pride.

No respect for others.

No authority recognized.

Second losses are less discreet:

No longer safe in thoughts nor words.

No longer safe on our own streets.

No more hopeful for the best

when every known fact is put to the test.

No more law and order.

Due process now out the door.

Demoralized beyond repair?

The people rise, at last, at last?

Not in anger and outrage.

Peacefully assembling on marching feet.

Nuns, priests, ministers, imams and rabbis

offer a morality well-intentioned if incomplete.

But this is how our story goes.

We are not perfect, heaven knows.

Our moral code is soft and flexible.

Our democratic republic makes it workable.

It offers a way to respect ourselves and one another;

to recognize all as sister or brother.

Immorality is what we see, and vote for?

Approve of, and laugh about too obviously?

See where  we have led ourselves and our country,

fueled by wantoness and greed.

Demoralized we may be.

Still a people willing to fight to remain free.”

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“NOLITE TE BASTARDES CARBORUNDORUM.” – Handmaid’s Tale

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EXAMINATION OF CONSCIENCE

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How easily done depends

on the sinner and sin done that day.

No “ I lay me down to sleep”

before this Catholic child closed her eyes.

An examination of conscience, 

a deep and complete review 

of my sins committed that day, as I prayed

in true contrition for my sins; and a promise

to make restitution to all I had harmed

in my self-centered, humanly-corrupted way.

Only then, could forgiveness be petitioned

and God swayed. Sister told me so in class.

Father told me so in the dark confessional.

I await an examination of conscience by all

who voted for MAGA  entranced and enthralled

by promises of heavenly and earthly reward

for allowing hate to invade and invoke

the souls of nation recently made awoke

by African-Americans and women who showed

they were equally great to any American.

Make America Great Again only meant

make America white again.

And my church paved the way.

Her misogyny always ready to deprive

women of any control over 

the length of their skirts,

the choice to love or escape 

abuse in any man’s embrace,

manage their reproductive health,

choose or excuse another’s hate.

Abortion became the rallying cry

to bring sinners off their knees and to the polls

to vote for the liars who played priests like fools.

There is no place for judgment or blame.

Sinners all, we play the same game.

There is a need for an examination of conscience,

for restitution to a nation’s sacred tenets defamed

by such reckless, sincere but sinful moves.

Now, priests and pastors see the error of their ways

as they accompany immigrants to hearings

to protect them from MAGA misrule?

The MAGA the churches helped elect

is not a surprise. And, it remains a sin to be

examined deeply, and completely reviewed.

I await the results of such a self-examination.

I await the restitution to be completed.

I await the apology for distorting Christian theology.

I await the chance to forgive, wholeheartedly.

I know my church is only human.

If only it could remember that truth.

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