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Enclosed Garden

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A baby flower Yellow grass. Abundant weeds. Dying flowers. For the past seven years, I have tried getting use to this sight as I looked at our convent grounds. None of us had any skills or time for the garden and have let things be. Which meant we had more weeds than grass in our yard. Which meant the hardy mini-roses survived and the other flowers shriveled in the Texas heat. Which meant we chopped down three trees as they slowly went to their death. I wondered how my dad maintained our green yard back home in Sacramento. I wondered how he planted 9 varieties of vegetables and 4 different kinds of fruit trees. I wondered how he found the time to pluck weeds, change oil for three cars, and finish books cover-to-cover. After seven years, I could not get use to the sight of yellow grass, luxuriant weeds, and dying flowers. I decided to head out. Into the garden. Which is "geard" in Old English. Meaning enclosure. Gardens, by definition, are enclosed an
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Sparkling

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First Amaryllis of this May! "What is it?" Dao asked me. "It's an amaryllis," I answered. She gazed doubtfully upon the slender plain stems poking out of the pot. "It's a flower?" she asked slowly. "Yes.  I know you don't see any leaves on it and the bud is quite flat, but it's a flower." I reassured her. I had just come home from Our Mother of Perpetual Help Parish and my arms were full of gifts. Candy, snacks, fried shrimp, lotion, with knick knacks.  And the amaryllis. All from catechists who wanted to spoil me and my community for Christmas. The amaryllis peeked out from the tall gift bag. According to Greek mythology, Amaryllis was a shy shepherdess who fell deeply in love with Alteo, a shepherd with the strength of Hercules and the beauty of Apollo.  Her affections were not returned and she hoped to win his heart by giving him what held his attention:  flowers.  Following the instructions of the oracle of De
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Blessing

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"Fr. Alex was here today," Sr. Jacinta Ngân said. "Oh?  Is he back from his sabbatical already?" Sr. Terry Thủy asked. "Yes.  He came with gifts, little Jerusalem crosses for each of us," Sr. Jacinta Ngân continued. Last year, Fr. Alex had come to say Mass twice for our convent because the priests nearby at St. Luke's was tied up with First Reconciliation for over 900 kids.  He had wanted to come more often, yet we feared for his safety.  He was over 80 years of age and his home was a good 20 minutes from our convent. "He asked me what was the name of the sister that worked at the hospital, the one he worked with," Sr. Jacinta Ngân elaborated with a twinkling smile.  "I told him, Sr. Janine, Father, Sr. Janine." We giggled at Fr. Alex's lapse in memory.  It was amazing that he served as a chaplain at Parkland Hospital to over 1000 Catholic patients and still remembered the location of our convent. "Oh yes, oh yes,
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Define

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"What is a saint?" Fr. Jaime asked. Hands shot up in the church. "Some one who is holy," a little girl replied. One can spy miniatures St. Patrick, St. Rose, St. Jean of Arc, and others wiggling in the pews. It was the Feast of All Saints and the children from St. Luke's School had come to Mass. "What is a saint?" Father asked again. "Some one you can pray to." "Some one who loves God a lot." "Last night, I saw a lot of trick-or-treaters.  Some of them were dressed like superhero characters like Batman and Wolverine.  But their powers aren't real.  It's fake because these are just stories.  But the saints, their power is real!" Father paused. "What is a saint?" "Some one who doesn't watch TV!"  Jesus called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, “Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven."  (Mt 18:2
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Control

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"She had just lost her baby.  It's been three hours.  And she was still holding on to it." I looked at Carlos carefully. He was the head of the Women and Infants Department at the hospital, 15+ years a chaplain, and a nurse. "I told her it was time to let go.  Time to let God take control.  Time to take control of myself.  Blah, blah, blah, you know what I mean," Carlos continued in a playful tone.  A smile was beginning to break on his face. It was not usual for Carlos to view death as someone else's loss. He was a man of deep sensitivity. "She looked at me after I was yakking my mouth for almost 30 minutes... Then I smelled it... Gas!"  He stopped as giggles began to engulf his sentences. "Then she looked at me and said, 'Some things you can't control!'" ps.  Memories of my days as a chaplain at the hospital. Photo Credit:  http://www.xda-developers.com/android/get-more-control-of-your-htc-sensation-with-t
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ART

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"There were a lot of priests in there," Lyly noted. "And a bishop.  5 priests and our auxiliary bishop," I added. The room was jam-packed. Although the workshop was set in mid-afternoon, not one person nodded off. A multi-billion dollar industry. Minimal regulations. Innovative research. "We say we're going to get married and have children," Angelique Ruhi-López said. "Perhaps we might want to consider saying that we receive children," Carmen Santamaría, her co-speaker shared. "If it is to have children, then we feel entitled to them," Santamaría continued. "Hence, all these procedures to have a baby.  Have you seen the adds for egg donors?  $5,000.00 - $10,000.00.  And these young women take drugs to hyperstimulate their ovaries so that instead of producing one mature egg a month, they are producing 10-20.  Do we know the effects of pumping drugs into young women?  No.  Yet, it is still being done," Ruhi-
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A Separate Peace

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She did ask if I had read it. I did.  In high school. She gave it to me anyways. A Separate Peace. A story of two teenage friends. Boys who were roommates. Then one became jealous. As usually happens. And the other unawares. As it is usually. They both climb a tree one day, together. As they had the whole summer. They were suppose to jump off the limb, together. Into the river below. As they had the whole summer. For an inexplicable reason, one jounced the branch. Ever so slightly. The other, a natural athlete, fell and broke his leg. Never to walk properly again. Much less play sports. Maybe the reason wasn't so inexplicable. Maybe it was like the war that was happening around them. World War II. Where people shoot each other for reasons they don't know. The book doesn't end there. The one who broke his leg, fell again. And dies. What goes through the heart of the one who is still alive? The friend who wonders at what makes himself jo
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