Morning Star

"I like to carve when I have some time on my hand." He looked at me thoughtfully. We were both stuck behind a long line at Bank of America. "One time a friend gave me a piece of guayacan. It was a pretty thing. It called out to become a crucifix. Once I was done, I wanted to make a little placard to go with it. I usually give my carvings away. Do you know what I found out?" I shook my head slowly. I did not want to disturb his reverie. He seemed to be in another time. "Guayacan is the toughest wood out there. It's used to make cricket bails, the belaying pins in sailing ships, and even used as a lap to cut gems. What got me though (he paused slightly), was its latin name: lignum vitae. Wood of life. And I had carved Jesus on it, the Author of Life. The Spanish call it holy wood because you can use it to treat stuff life coughs and arthritis." "Do you think it was a coincidence?" I met his steady gaze. "Only i

"You know, the interesting thing about skeptics, is that we're always looking for proof... the question is, what on earth would we ever do if we found it?" Father Lucas remarks. "Gets complicated when no proof of the devil is somehow proof of the devil," Michael rejoins. We do never get to see the devil. Toads, mules, and three-inch nails are the few extraordinary traces Michael can touch and see. And so The Rite leads the audience into those eternal questions: Does God exist? If so (or not so), does the devil exist? Or is everything psychology, our brains trying to cope with the immensity of life? The movie had plenty of chilling effects to keep my head turned away half of the time. The other sisters had no problem. I've never had a stomach for horror films. However, this one wasn't a horror movie like The Exorcist. The frightening parts were the conversations between Father Lucas (played by Anthony Hopkins) and Michael (Colin O&

"Look! A body shop!" Sister Jacinta Ngân said excitedly. The huge yellow and orange billboard loomed in the distance. We just had a blowout and were barely crawling at 30mph on the 75mph interstate. "It's not for cars," Sr. Gwen Huyền pointed out. Tattoos. Body piercings. Body art. It was definitely a body shop. Laughter broke the tension in the air. Although I reminded everyone that we were in possession of three debit cards, over two hundred dollars in cash, and three cell phones, the sisters were still worried. We finally made it to an exit. The tollbooth operator (thank God for tollbooths on I-44's turnpike) directed us to the nearest gas station. Three hours later (with the help of two men who took pity on us at the gas station and put a spare on our van so we can drive to the nearest Walmart to buy a brand-new tire), we were back on the road. One of the men had a cross tattooed on his right forearm. He didn't speak much but

I looked mournfully at our burgundy Ford Windstar minivan. It glowed softly in the night air. Trúc and I had purposely came to Anh Long's car repair shop after working hours to avoid Dallas' traffic rush hour. Anh Long was going to hide our van's keys in the glove compartment and I was suppose to bring the extra set to open up the door and bring the van home for our next-day trip to Springfield. I need a miracle, I thought to myself. "This is not going to be fun. We're both going to have to spend half an hour back to get the keys and half an hour to come back here again," I told Trúc. "I'm sorry," she said graciously. I need a miracle, I thought again. My back pain had been bothering me the whole day and in its grip, I had forgotten the spare keys. "Can I have the Malibu's keys?" I asked. Trúc handed it over and I stuck it into the Windstar's lock wistfully and turned right. I felt something give. Righty t

"Geez, Vân, I just don't have much money anymore." I looked at my mom quizzically. It was her fifth time making the same comment within three days of my summer visit. It was not like her to repeat herself so often. I was thinking of her as I heard myself complaining of the heat at Marian Days. Actually everyone was commenting (or complaining) about it. Along with my friends and neighbors in Texas. Our flowers and vegetables were barely surviving. Now, we realize that Dallas almost broke the record for the longest 100-degree streak of consecutive days. It was 40 days this summer of 2011. It was 47 days in the summer of 1980. "Vân, why are you laughing at me," my mom continued. "Mom, I just realized why you don't have any money!" I chortled. "You just gave $200 to that nun from Vietnam because she said that she was raising funds for her community's work with orphans. And she told you it was difficult to do so because most

"Sister, what are these? They're gorgeous!" "Paper bracelets. See, this is how you wear them." I wrapped it around the teen's wrist and his eyes widened in amazement. "These are so cool! How long did it take you to make them?" "Oh, about an hour. And yes, the sisters were about to kill me because we made over 150 of them!" The sisters and I were again at Marian Days in Carthage, Missouri. The heat was stifling and we were blessed to have friends and strangers buy us iced sugarcane juice or rau má throughout the day. "How much are they?" the seven-year-old looked up at Sr. Marciana Chuẩn. "None at all. We're not selling them. We're giving them away," she replied. We weren't the only religious community giving away free stuff. The Divine Word Missionaries gave away fans, the Redemptorists gave away pens, and the Holy Ghost fathers were giving away flashlights. All these items had our we

"So many of us spend our lives collecting things, money, reputation." Fr. Clair looked at us from the pulpit. "But have you ever noticed that coffins don't have drawers? There is only one compartment. And that is for you!" Photo credit www.clipartheaven.com

I always wondered why some people's bodies don't decompose. Catholics call them incorruptibles. The Buddhists have one too. Khambo Lama. Khambo Lama or Dashi-Dorzho Itigilov died in 1927 in a lotus position. He is still sitting upright and his body is remarkably well-preserved. His body is only displayed seven days in the year. There are more than 250 incorrupt bodies of Catholic saints. Not accidentally preserved as in being buried in hot sand or lava. Not deliberately preserved as in the pharaohs of Egypt. These 250 incorruptibles are typically found lifelike, moist, and flexible after many centuries. "They remain free of decay regardless of manner of burial, delay in burial, temperature, moisture, rough handling, frequent transference, having been covered in quicklime (a decaying agent), or proximity to other decaying corpses." You can see them for yourself at * New York City (St. Fraces Xavier Cabrini) * Turin, Italy (St. Mary Mazzarello) * Paris, France (St. Cath