Simon Who? First pope revelations

Here's how tonight's dinner conversation went:

Dennis: Who did Jesus tell,"Upon this rock, I will build my Church?"
Olivia: Simon?
Mary: Yes. Simon who?
Chiara: Simon Cowell?

We don't normally focus on this sort of stuff while passing the mashed potatoes, but tonight we went off on a religious education tangent. This answer definitely won the prize.

These are days to remember...

I was driving to and from Noah's film club meeting, Olivia's horseback riding lessons, and Chiara's competition ballet-tap-jazz class yesterday -- and squeezing in some much-needed raking during the "spare" minutes at home in between --when I started to get that overwhelmed, woe-is-me feeling. I was heading down the same road for the third time in less than an hour, wondering how we had reached this tipping point.

As I pulled onto the long gravel road leading to the stables to wait for Olivia's lesson to end, Natalie Merchant started singing "These Are Days," and suddenly I could feel tears forming out of nowhere. Not tears of frustration or desperation, but tears of sudden realization. Tears of gratitude for what I know is a blessing, as difficult as it can sometimes feel.

These are the days
These are days you’ll remember
Never before and never since, I promise
Will the whole world be warm as this
And as you feel it,
You’ll know it’s true
That you are blessed and lucky

In a flash I went from fragmented to full, fast-forwarding to some day down the road when my children no longer need me to cart them around or read the stories they make up or take them on a camping trip.

I remember when Noah was a toddler, and people who were parenting teens at the time would tell me to savor the terrible twos because adolescence was going to make it look like a cake walk. And they were right. And now, when I complain about a house cluttered with toys and book bags and school papers, those same parents remind me that in a few short years my house will be quiet and clean, and I will long for the days of clutter and confusion. And I have no doubt they will be right again.

These are days to remember, even when I want to forget.

Here's Natalie to sing us out. Have a great weekend, and remember to savor the moments, even the ones that make you crazy.

An independent voter weighs in

So, I'm independent -- politically speaking -- for lots of reasons, mainly because I don't want to be aligned with or beholden to either major party. I chalk it up, in part, to my libra-esque personality. Always weighing, always considering both sides, never wanting to give any side unequivocal anything.

As an independent, I find the goings on related to the current election season beyond comprehension. Although I have strong opinions on this or that policy, I can readily acknowledge that both candidates, even when they don't agree with me, are smart men, good people, politicians with the best interest of our country at heart. Is it really possible that so many people on the extremes of this conversation -- and from what I can see there are lots of people firmly planted on the extremes, at least on Facebook -- are unable to look at the opposition and see decency, common humanity, differences in opinion but sameness at the core? I find it mind boggling, really, that we have come to this place of total disregard and disrespect for those who don't share our exact opinions.

I'm saddened by the fact that I now dread signing onto my Facebook news feed because I know it will be filled with name calling, angry rhetoric, and outright insults. Good people seem to think nothing of pronouncing friends on the opposing side idiots or worse simply for looking at things from a different perspective. How did we get here? Was it social media that led us down this path of intolerance or something else? What does it take to return us to a place where good people can respectfully agree to disagree? Can we ever go back?

I find I refrain from all political commentary, on Facebook in particular, not because I don't have political opinions but because I have come to understand that if I don't hold the "right" political opinions I will be demonized by one side or the other. And, to be honest, I just don't have the energy to waste in an argument with someone who will never see my point of view anyway. So I have opted to keep quiet, even when I have something to say, and that's a very sad commentary on the free speech we hold so dear. Or should hold so dear, even for those who don't agree with us.

I know who I'm voting for in November. That doesn't mean I hate the opposition. It doesn't mean I think everyone who votes for him is an idiot or some other unmentionable name. Every one of us has the power to direct our future. That's the beauty of the voting booth. Go in, pull the lever (or whatever it is we push or pull now), and vote for the candidate of your choice. And, if by some chance your guy loses, have the decency to give the new president the respect he deserves, no matter what his party.

But whatever you do, between now and then, stop assuming everyone who doesn't plan to vote with you is a moron. Tolerance is an empty word if it only applies to people who think like you.

Pitching a tent on sacred ground

My October "Life Lines" column, written more than a month ago but especially timely now given the fact that the canonization of Kateri Tekakwitha is this weekend:

I’m not much of a camper. I chalk it up to traumatic Girl Scout experiences as a kid -- think rain, mud, latrine duty, French toast cooked over a coffee can. But as I write this column, I am simultaneously washing my winter sleeping bag in anticipation of a weekend camping retreat at the Shrine of Our Lady of Martyrs in Auriesville, N.Y., with Noah’s Boy Scout troop. And I’m actually looking forward to it.

The Boy Scouts, and Auriesville in particular, have done for me what nothing else has been able to do since my first failed tent experience: They’ve made me want to become a camper, a hiker, an outdoorswoman. That last one might be pushing it a bit, but I can dream.

I’ve done the Auriesville retreat once before. It was my first camp experience since those early Girl Scout days. As I huddled in my little tent on the grounds where Kateri Tekakwitha was born and where Isaac Jogues, Rene Goupil, and John LaLande were martyred, I suddenly felt my camping angst recede, replaced by a powerful sense of what it means to be a pilgrim on sacred ground. I could feel the holy history all around me. Frost and dampness and sleeplessness were insignificant in this place where Catholics before me were willing to die for their faith.

So when this year’s retreat was announced, I threw my name in the ring immediately. How could I not during this monumental year, when Kateri Tekakwitha finally becomes a canonized saint? Imagine the special graces we Scout pilgrims will receive as we spend two days walking the ravine, going to the sacrament of reconciliation, attending Mass with our bishop, and soaking ourselves in the powerful stories of faith lived amid persecution just 40 minutes from our home.

Because of these camp experiences, Auriesville has become a special place for me. Every chance I get, I head in that direction. The ravine doesn’t lose its shine just because I’ve walked it a dozen times. The coliseum church doesn’t seem less impressive even though I’ve dusted statues and polished pews there with our parish youth group. The beautiful natural scenery hasn’t lost its awe factor because I’ve seen it through every season year after year. That’s because this isn’t just a campground, and it’s not just a historical site.

This shrine is a living, breathing piece of our faith, a place where we can feel the courage of the people who walked here before us and share the spiritual journey with those who walk with us today. So often we think we need to travel to Rome or the Holy Land or Lourdes to make a true pilgrimage, but the reality is that pilgrim moments, opportunities to experience God through the lives of holy men and woman, are close to home and around every turn.

Tomorrow night, when I join five Scouts and one other adult leader on the grounds of Auriesville (along with other troops from all over the region), I will sit by the flickering light of a campfire, just 50 yards from the ravine where the martyrs suffered, and I’ll imagine what it must have been like to be in this exact spot more than 350 years ago, what it must have been like to believe so fervently and know that those beliefs would come at a very high price. It’s sobering, powerful, inspiring.

Noah, who has done this retreat four times, has been so moved by the experience that he plans to take Isaac as his confirmation name this year. On the surface that choice will probably seem insignificant to others, but I know that his choice comes out of experiences gained in this holy place, which is so much more than a geographical destination in upstate New York. It’s a spiritual destination on the pilgrim path we are all called to walk, even if the farthest we ever travel is deep within our own hearts and souls.

'Let nothing make you afraid...'

Ecstasy of St. Teresa, Santa Maria della Vittoria, Rome/By Mary DeTurris Poust

Happy Feast of St. Teresa of Avila. I have some of her words of wisdom posted prominently next to my desk at all times:

“Let nothing trouble you. Let nothing make you afraid. All things pass away. God never changes. Patience obtains everything. God alone is enough.” – St. Teresa of Avila

It's Not Your Grandmother's Catechism

To kick off the Year of Faith, which begins today and runs through Nov. 24, 2013, I'm talking catechism over at the Huffington Post religion blog today. Here we go:

It's Not Your Grandmother's Catechism

By Mary DeTurris Poust

Admit it: When you hear the word "catechism," you're eyes start to glaze over, or, if you're of a certain age, you may even have flashbacks to those line drawings of a red-horned devil that once filled the pages of the old Baltimore Catechism. But if you haven't tried the "new" Catechism of the Catholic Church (20 years is new in a Church that moves by the century), you're really missing out on something remarkable.
This is where you can read about adultery, angels and environmentalism all in one place; where you come face to face with all those things you thought knew about the Catholic Church only to realize you didn't really know the whole story after all.

Continue reading HERE.

Finding patience on the mat -- and off

I always get to the 5:45 a.m. yoga class at least 10 minutes early, better to settle in and spend a little time in silence before the studio fills up. Today was no different, at least not at first. I stretched a bit before closing my eyes and taking up half-lotus, patiently waiting for our teacher to arrive. Soon. Shortly. Any minute now....

Every time the door opened I couldn't resist the urge to open my eyes and see if was the teacher. Nope.  As 5:45  gave way to 5:48, then 5:50, and soon 5:53 (or so, based on my general clock sense), a few of us looked around at each other and shrugged. Surely it's just as easy for the teacher to hit the snooze and oversleep as it is for any one of us. Lord knows I contemplated rolling over this morning before finally throwing back the covers and setting the day in motion.

Funny thing was, we all just sat there on our mats, quietly facing front in the darkness. One or two whispered questions, another got up to look outside, but, for the most part, we sat. We stretched a bit more and then continued to sit. No anger rising, as it might if we were standing in line at Walmart and the person in front realized she didn't have her credit card. (Not that I have any experience with that sort of frustration.) No annoyance coming out in body language or sarcastic commentary, as might be the case in a traffic jam or a doctor's waiting room. Nope, we just sat, perhaps a little confused or resigned, but not impatient or angry.

Finally one student got up and went to ask a Y staff person if he knew what was going on. They phoned the teacher who had, in fact overslept, and she asked if we'd be willing to wait 12 minutes. Most of us said we would. A few left, probably those who had to get to work sooner rather than later. The rest of us stayed, either stretching on our mats or walking the track or treadmills until the teacher showed up. And then we did yoga, just as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

How wish I could say I'd have that same attitude in so many other situations when I find myself growing impatient and frustrated. Why is it I can sit quietly in a darkened Y studio, knowing I may have gotten up at 5 a.m. for no reason at all, and not lose my cool when I lose it so easily at other times? It comes back to the heart of yoga, of course, and why we're all there in the first place. We're not just there to build muscle or lose pounds. We're there to gain peace, to find a balance the normal world cannot give, and even a 20 minute delay in starting isn't going to distract us from our appointed rounds.

So the question is how to translate that mat-based patience into everyday patience. Why can I sit and feel such compassion and kindness toward my yoga teacher -- even at 5:30 a.m. when  I could be warm under my covers -- when I can't muster up even a fraction of that patience for the old lady driving 15 miles per hour down the back road to our house on a busy afternoon or the bank teller who disappears from the drive-in window for what seems like a half hour while I'm waiting to deposit a check?

Maybe it's the deep breathing. Maybe it's the God connection -- because I am always in a state of heightened spiritual awareness at yoga, and even for the ride to and from the Y. Maybe it's the unity I feel with the people around me, each one of us trying to do one small thing to make our lives better, to make ourselves better, not in a selfish way but in a real effort to live up to our true potential as human beings.

"Love is patient," we read in Scripture. Today in our little yoga studio, that verse was palpable, and it reminded me that sometimes -- often -- love is a choice we make.

Year of Faith: Let's get this party started

We're just days away from the start of the Year of Faith, a time of renewal, prayer, and study for Catholics around the world.

Pope Benedict XVI has specifically asked that Catholics spend time studying the Catechism of the Catholic Church, which, as you may recall, I covered page-by-page in my book, The Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism.

Here's what the pope had to say on the matter in his apostolic letter announcing the Year of Faith:

“From Sacred Scripture to the Fathers of the Church, from theological masters to the saints across the centuries, the Catechism provides a permanent record of the many ways in which the Church has meditated on the faith and made progress in doctrine so as to offer certitude to believers in their lives of faith.

“In its very structure, the Catechism of the Catholic Church follows the development of the faith right up to the great themes of daily life. On page after page, we find that what is presented here is no theory, but an encounter with a Person who lives within the Church."

So I'm pretty psyched to get back on the catechism bandwagon and maybe bring some new folks along with me. Here's what I'll be doing to get the Year of Faith party started:

On Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012, at 8:10 a.m. EST, I'll be talking about the catechism and the Year of Faith with Brian Patrick on the Son Rise Morning Show. You can catch that on Sacred Heart Radio 740 AM and 89.5 FM in Cincinnati, Ohio, or you can go to this link and listen online. 

Then on Thursday, Oct. 11, the official start of the Year of Faith as well as the 20th anniversary of the publication of the catechism and the 50th anniversary of the Second Vatican Council, I'll be kicking off a weekly series here on Not Strictly Spiritual.

Throughout the year, I plan to post some of my favorite catechism-related excerpts. Do you find it hard to believe I could actually have "favorites" from the catechism? It's true. Despite how it looks in its intimidating, almost 1,000-page form, it's actually a super cool read. Of course, if you don't have time for 1,000 pages of catechism, there are always shorter, easier-to-read versions, like, oh, I don't know, the Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism, which has an imprimatur, meaning it is all kosher according to the Church.

Finally, I'm happy to tell you that I'll also be sharing posts occasionally throughout the Year of Faith over at Catholic Moms Talk. Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle was nice enough to invite me to join a cast of impressive Catholic moms who will be offering their take on the catechism as it relates to family life. Be sure to visit there regularly to see what we're saying. (I'm sure I'll find a way to let you know when I'm appearing over there.)

There will be more tantalizing catechism goings on in the months ahead, some I'm not at liberty to talk about just yet (doesn't that sound intriguing?), so stay tuned. And make sure you have your catechism or your Complete Idiot's Guide -- or, better yet, both -- on hand for the Year of Faith.

Discovering the Divine in the Everyday

My other new book is nearing its release date, and I realized this morning that I've been kind of quiet about it. I've been so caught up in so many other projects, this one has been slowly and silently creeping up on me, but that doesn't mean it isn't near and dear to my heart. It most definitely is, and here's why.

Everyday Divine: A Catholic Guide to Active Spirituality, which will be released on Nov. 6, grew out of my own need and desire to figure out how to fit prayer into my extraordinarily busy life. I simply can't get to daily Mass or Adoration on a frequent (confession: even occasional) basis. It just never seems to happen. I am Rosary-challenged, and I can't seem to string together nine straight days of a novena. Bottom line: Regular, traditional prayer is a constant struggle for me. So I had to come up with more creative ways to include prayer in my everyday life. And that is how "Everyday Divine" was born.

This book -- using stories from my own life, stories from friends and colleagues, advice from the saints, and, yes, traditional prayers and devotions -- covers everything from how to weave prayer into your exercise routine or morning commute to how to find pilgrim moments in the most unlikely places. It was a labor of love, and so many wonderful people -- some you may even know -- shared their own tips and techniques with me. There are practical suggestions, meditations, and more. And if you buy now, and only now, I'll throw in the Ginsu knife. Okay, not really. But, still, buy now. It's available for pre-order at all the usual spots. (Link above takes you to Amazon.)

Here's what Jesuit Father James Martin had to say about my book when he "blurbed" it for the cover:

"I love this book because it's practical.  Too often spirituality is seen as something reserved either for mystics or, well, 'someone else.'  Mary DeTurris Poust shows us that the spiritual life is not removed from your daily life, it is your daily life. Her new book will invite you to try some simple, down-to-earth and accessible ways of encountering God in what you might consider your 'ordinary' life.  But after you've discovered God while you pray, but also while you work, clean, hike, exercise, do yoga and look at a sunset, your life will begin to seem pretty extraordinary indeed.  Because it is." 

-- James Martin, SJ, author of The Jesuit Guide to Almost Everything.

 
Let me give you a brief look at the Table of Contents (with a tiny explanation):

1. Creating Calm amid the Chaos (mindfulness)
2. Building a Spiritual Foundation (prayer essentials)
3. Turning Chores into Spiritual Practice ('Little Way')
4. Bringing the Body into Prayer (exercise)
5. Work of Our Hands (home and office)
6. Sounds and Signs of the Spirit (nature, song, and more)
7. Silence, Simplicity, and Solitude (sacred rhythm of life)
8. Dark Nights and Dry Spells (self-explanatory)
9. Pilgrimage of the Heart (walking the way of faith)
10. All of Life as Prayer (finding God in every moment)

So there you go. More to come in the days ahead as we close in on the release date. Still no decision (on my part) as to whether to do a release signing and party, mainly because I hate to burden my friends with yet another book signing. Especially when another book (Cravings: A Catholic Wrestles with Food, Self-Image, and God) is coming out six weeks after this one. If I do decide to go ahead with a signing party, you'll be the first to know. Okay, maybe the second or third. Well, definitely in the top 100.

Praying in the company of Brother Sun and Sister Moon

Earlier today, I was out in our sun porch doing some gentle yoga in hopes of loosening up a nagging back muscle problem. As I stretched upward to begin a basic sun salutation, I realized I was looking up at my beautiful clay crescent moon, given to me by a good friend many years ago. Then later, as I turned to do a warrior pose, I noticed the clay sun hanging directly opposite. Suddenly all felt right with the world on this Feast of St. Francis of Assisi.

I haven't taken time for homegrown yoga or silent prayer lately -- for too many reasons to list, none of them good enough -- so it seemed especially coincidental that I was raising my arms in praise of God's creation under the watchful eyes of Brother Sun and Sister Moon on the feast of the saint who made them famous in poem and prayer.

Even my sun porch sacred space -- a simple wooden tray with a battery-powered candle, incense burner, and a single holy image (rotating depending on my mood or the day) amid dried sunflowers, seeds, and pine cones -- seemed in sync with the feast day. And as I sat down on my meditation cushion in silence, the rain tapping on the roof overhead provided the perfect soundtrack and the towering oaks and pines outside a glorious backdrop.

I found myself smiling, aware that my decision to put aside piles of work for a rare session of yoga and meditation when I really didn't have a minute to spare, must have been a little nudge from the Spirit. Everything in me had been fighting against this yoga prayer practice today, and yet I threw down my mat, lit my incense, shrugged off my back pain, and entered into that beautiful silent space that occurs when mindful physical motion gives way to the stillness of spiritual contemplation.

On top of that, my back is feeling much better, so it was a win-win.

Here's St. Francis' Canticle of Brother Sun and Sister Moon for a little inspiration on this fall night. Why not read it outside under the stars, or clouds?

Most High, all-powerful, all-good Lord, All praise is Yours, all glory, all honour and all blessings.

To you alone, Most High, do they belong, and no mortal lips are worthy to pronounce Your Name.

Praised be You my Lord with all Your creatures,
especially Sir Brother Sun,
Who is the day through whom You give us light.
And he is beautiful and radiant with great splendour,
Of You Most High, he bears the likeness.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Moon and the stars,
In the heavens you have made them bright, precious and fair.

Praised be You, my Lord, through Brothers Wind and Air,
And fair and stormy, all weather's moods,
by which You cherish all that You have made.

Praised be You my Lord through Sister Water,
So useful, humble, precious and pure.

Praised be You my Lord through Brother Fire,
through whom You light the night and he is beautiful and playful and robust and strong.

Praised be You my Lord through our Sister,
Mother Earth
who sustains and governs us,
producing varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs.
Praise be You my Lord through those who grant pardon for love of You and bear sickness and trial.

Blessed are those who endure in peace, By You Most High, they will be crowned.

Praised be You, my Lord through Sister Death,
from whom no-one living can escape. Woe to those who die in mortal sin! Blessed are they whom death will find doing Your most holy will, for the second death shall do them no harm.

Praise and bless my Lord and give Him thanks,
And serve Him with great humility.
-- St. Francis of Assisi

Cravings: download, print, pass it on...

Cravings Flyer: Click on this link to view, download, or print full size.

Angels among us, messengers from heaven

In honor of today's Feast of the Guardian Angels, I thought I'd post an OSV story I did on angels and their role in our spiritual lives. I'll start you off here and send you there.

The photos at left and below were taken by me two years ago when I was crossing Ponte Sant'Angelo in Rome on my way to St. Peter's Basilica.

By Mary DeTurris Poust

Human beings over the centuries and across cultures have long been fascinated with and captivated by angels. We seek their protection and pray for their guidance. We both fear and crave their presence. We put them on necklaces, coffee mugs, mouse pads and more. When it comes to angels, our expressions of love run from the ridiculous to the sublime, inspiring everything from the wildly inappropriate Victoria’s Secret ad campaign to the strikingly beautiful film Wings of Desire.

Although Catholics often begin their prayer connection to angels in childhood, with the sing-song words of the Angel of God prayer --- “Ever this night, be at my side to light and guard, to rule and guide” – angels are by no means child’s play. They are complex spiritual beings, often misunderstood by us humans who try to give them features and attributes that are more akin to existence on earth than heaven. Chubby little baby-like cherubs sporting wings and harps cannot begin to do justice to the reality of angels in our midst.

So what exactly are we dealing with here, and what role do angels play in our personal prayer lives?....Continue reading HERE.

Here's something to talk about over dinner

Just realized I never posted my September Life Lines column. Here you go...

We were sitting at the dinner table the other night, passing bowls of pasta and salad back and forth, when the kids asked if we could pull a card from “The Meal Box” (Loyola Press), a deck of 52 cards with questions designed to prompt interesting dinner conversation among family members. I had originally used it as part of a product review I was writing, but it ended up being a hit with the kids, so it stuck. And it sure beats fighting over who didn’t empty the cat litter and who didn’t put away toys in between bites of food.

Typically the cards are exercises in creative thinking. Here’s one of our favorite questions: “If you could build a private bridge or tunnel that would take you directly from your home to any place at all, what would it connect you to?” Two people chose Rome -- one directly to St. Peter's. (Gee, I wonder who that was?) Two people chose Paris -- one directly to the Louvre and the other with a special exit allowing her to head to Grandpa and Grandma's house in New Jersey at will, and one chose Disney World.

Then there was the question about what background noise you would choose to be constantly playing in your head? Dennis and I both picked the ocean. Noah picked his iTunes library (shocking). Olivia picked the ocean as well, and Chiara picked birds, which we unanimously decided would definitely not include crows. 

But the last time we did the Meal Box, we were in for a bit of a surprise, and, I have to admit, a little discomfort. Each of us had to go around the table and say the thing we consider most special about every other person. There was a moment of awkward silence as everyone stared down at our plates. This was a serious question, one where Disney World couldn’t be the easy answer.

Dennis got the ball rolling with some thoughtful observations about yours truly and our three children – one who confronts his fears with determination, one who approaches every single day with joy, and one who is totally fearless. Then it was my turn. As you can imagine, this exercise gets harder and harder the farther down the line you go because all the good stuff gets taken. But it was easy to hone in on my youngest daughter’s sweet disposition and snuggly demeanor, my middle child’s role as a true Renaissance girl interested in – and good at – just about everything, and my teen’s high standards and ideals – for himself and for our world.

Then came the moment of truth: The kids had to say nice things about each other and about us. As we slowly went around the table with some silly answers mixed in with the serious stuff, I could feel tears welling up. Olivia told Chiara she was special because she is funny and is always there for her. Chiara told Olivia she’s special because she plays with her all the time. Noah said I was special because I’m always supportive of him, and Dennis is special because he teaches him what it means to be a man.  Added to the mix were comments about my bringing spirituality to our home, Dennis’ willingness to do everything he can for our family, and, I think, even a comment about my curly hair.

For at least ten minutes we went around saying nice things about each other. That’s not a bad return on a little deck of cards. And the seriousness of that particular draw didn’t scare the kids off; they were clamoring for another card the next night.

Try it tonight at your own table. Have everyone say what they love most about every other person. You just might be surprised and teary-eyed by the time dinner is over. And not because someone spilled a glass of milk.

Life in My 50s: Pousts take Manhattan

Me in the Village

When my 50th birthday was approaching, Dennis suggested one of two trips -- Maine or Manhattan. I was torn. I've never been to Maine and would have loved to settle into a seaside hotel for some peace and quiet. But Manhattan was beckoning. Not just the usual Manhattan, where I run down for a work meeting or Girl Scout event or holiday dinner, but the Manhattan of my 20s and early 30s, the Manhattan that made this suburban girl fall in love with New York City.

So we set out with only one definite plan: dinner reservations at Morandi, a fabulous Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village. Other than that we had a whole weekend and nothing to do but wander. (Much to the kids' chagrin.) We checked into my in-laws' empty apartment (Thank you very much!) and started our visit with lunch at nearby Tal Bagel. Best. Bagels. Ever.

Tal is a place Dennis and I used to frequent when we both worked at Catholic New York newspaper. Pea soup and a sesame bagel was a favorite back then. When we walked in this weekend and our kids were staring up at the sandwich/soup board, we pulled them back from the line and explained that at Tal you do NOT get on line and then start deciding what you want. You do NOT ask questions. You order. Fast. Think Seinfeld's Soup Nazi but with bagels.

From there we headed to Fifth Avenue, where we popped into the Trump Tower. This may seem like an odd choice, but there's good reason. Trump Tower was my prime public restroom location when I was a reporter covering Cardinal O'Connor at St. Patrick's Cathedral on Sunday mornings. When your work requires you to be out on NYC streets at odd times, you quickly learn where all the nice public restrooms are located (Waldorf Astoria and Lord &Taylor ranked up there as well). We also wanted the kids to experience the gaudy 80s opulence of Trump Tower:

Me and the girls at Trump Tower

Because I knew this trip could not be completely devoid of kid-friendly stuff, we made a stop at FAO Schwartz. I ended up with a prize, so I guess it wasn't only the kids who wanted to go there. I got a cool carrying bag with a NYC subway map on it.

Chiara and Olivia in the Lego section at FAO Schwartz.

And, of course, we had to snap a photo of Dennis in front of the Apple store.

Dennis on pilgrimage.

Then off to the Central Park Zoo. I'd never seen real penguins before. Great penguin exhibit. Here are the girls with the sea lions:

And the polar bear:

 I also loved this bird, which I still haven't been able to identify.

We hopped on a very crowded 6 train to the Village and caught a very lengthy but very funny street show. And then on to The Strand. So many books, so little time. We wandered a bit more, hitting Bleecker Street and buying some trinkets before going to Morandi for dinner. It was delicious, and I finally got the order of Carciofi alla Guidea that I couldn't get in Rome (because artichokes were not in season). No photos of that or the focaccia with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes and basil. I went for the simple but fabulous hand-rolled spaghetti with lemon and parmesan sauce.

On Sunday we started off our day with more bagels from Tal (and picked up some bialys for breakfast at home the next day.) Then it was off to St. Patrick's Cathedral for Cardinal Dolan's weekly 10:15 a.m. Mass. Through our good friend Joe Z., we were able to get primo seats -- second pew, center. During the entrance procession, Cardinal Dolan came over to us to inquire about Dennis' broken arm and to wish me a happy 50th birthday. Super cool. Little did we know, it was about to get even better. After Mass, we were ushered behind the ropes where we could have our picture taken with the cardinal, but instead of just saying hello and snapping a photo, the cardinal invited us back to his residence. For coffee and cake. I've been at many Church events -- and I've even been in the cardinal's residence as a reporter back when Cardinal O'Connor would hold events there -- but this really topped everything.

Us with Cardinal Dolan in front of the Pope Chair

After posing for a photo in front of the "Pope Chair," used by Pope John Paul II and Bendict XVI, we sat in the living room and had coffee, juice, and cake with a few other guests, including a beautiful baby named Maria Isabella, who has spina bifida and many struggles ahead. Please pray for her and her lovely family. Here's Cardinal Dolan with Maria Isabella (a little blurry because he was in constant motion making guests feel at home).

He held her like this the entire time we were there, looking very grandfatherly as he chatted and moved chairs around and offered "pie in a bag" (apparently a Milwaukee specialty) while toting around this little baby. I think my kids were just dumbfounded by the way events played out that morning. It was definitely the highlight of the weekend.

To wrap up our visit, we went to the Museum of Modern Art. Originally we were going to opt for the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which is typically my favorite, but we decided at the last minute to hit MOMA so I could finally see van Gogh's Starry Night. When Dennis and I visited MOMA 19 years ago to see this favorite painting, it was on loan to another museum. I never got around to a return visit. Until this weekend. I actually had tears in my eyes as I stood in front of it. Standing that close to this van Gogh masterpiece was beyond words, as you can tell by my goofy, swooning smile.

A close second was the Monet Water Lilies room. I could have sat there for hours:

We also found some new favorites. Here's Chiara reading up on "White on White," one of her favorite finds right behind Jackson Pollock.

And we finally tracked down the one unusual piece of contemporary art that Dennis and I still remembered from all those years ago:

Someone, please, tell me what this means and why it's in a museum. (And not the Keith Haring stuff behind it. Just the basketballs in the fish tank.) I've read the artist's explanation. I'm not buying it. I think he must laugh and laugh that he managed to land this at MOMA.

On the way home, we made a stop at my grandmother's apartment to say hello and to give her an early (unproofed) version of my new book, "Cravings," which is dedicated to her. Here she is with Chiara:

Now that was a birthday weekend to remember. Turns out 50 isn't so bad. I think I'll turn 50 again next year.

One parish's plan for the Year of Faith

I received an unexpected email yesterday from an Alabama parish telling me the pastor had "placed a large order" for copies of my Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism for use as a text in his parish program for the Year of Faith. Obviously, that news made my day, but it also got me thinking...

Are there other parishes out there look for interesting ways to approach the Year of Faith, which begins on October 11 and coincides with the 50th anniversary of the Second Vatican Council and the 20th anniversary of the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

In Porta Fidei, his apostolic letter announcing the yearlong celebration, Pope Benedict XVI wrote that it should be a "summons to an authentic and renewed conversion to the Lord, the One Savior of the world."

"The 'door of faith' (Acts14:27) is always open for us, ushering us into the life of communion with God and offering entry into his Church," the pope wrote.

What will you do this year to deepen your relationship with Christ and perhaps walk through the
"door of faith" anew, as you did at baptism? If you or your parish are looking for resources to help you with this endeavor, consider my Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism, which explains the catechism in plain English, was vetted by a theologian, and carries an imprimatur.

Or, you might want to try my Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass, which covers not only popular Catholic devotions but silent prayer, pilgrimage, and a host of other prayer methods. In addition, it includes an entire section on the Mass, covering the new language as well as the whys and how-tos for those who'd like to refresh the Catholic teaching of their youth or deepen their already strong faith. It, too, carries an imprimatur.

Click HERE to read a review of my Complete Idiot's Guide to the Catholic Catechism. Click HERE to read a review of my Essential Guide to Catholic Prayer and the Mass, which one reviewer likened to a "textbook for Catholics."

Amazon is showing a short wait for the Complete Idiot's Guide, but I believe that's a momentary glitch. You can also order via Barnes and Noble. And, of course, both books are available for Kindle and Nook, so you don't have to wait at all! The catechism book is also available in Spanish. If you have any questions or want to know more about either of these books, feel free to email me at mary@notstrictlyspiritual.com