Morning Star

"I think it is an empty photo frame and we put our pictures in it," Trúc commented. "Must be.  This retreat house is open to all sorts of people and so some must bring pictures of their family."  I paused momentarily.  "I didn't bring any."  We both laughed softly because we couldn't figure out any other reason for the sisters to place black and white photos in our rooms.  And of a serious looking girl too. The aspirants and I were on retreat at the Mount Carmel House of Prayer in Houston, ran by the Missionary Carmelites of Saint Teresa. "Nothing is so like God as stillness," remarked the 14th-century German mystic Meister Eckhart.  We got plenty of stillness the past few days. Yet, the black and white photos lingered in the back of my mind. Along with the plaques in Spanish. "Vamos a vivir con Dios con un amigo." Sor Isabel. "Creer que un ser que se llama el Amor habita en nosotros, en todo instante."

A shepherd boy searching for treasure and love. He encounters a king and an alchemist. And a thief. Fictional story, yes. Yet, "The Alchemist" dares stupendous assertions. “And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.”  The whole book is based on this premise. Do you really attain your dream if you truly will it? The atmosphere of the story is ethereal. It is filled with nudges to look within, such as, "Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself.  And that no heart has every suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity." Some have said "The Alchemist" is a vague New Age spirituality that would collapse under close application.   Published in 1988, it has sold about 35 million copies and is the most translated book in the world by any living author. Perhaps it is a vague

$6.8 million dollars. 29,000 square feet. 750,000 pounds of marble and granite. The Vietnamese Martyrs Catholic Church had become the the largest-capacity Vietnamese church in the United States on December 10, 2011.  Our sisters from the mother house in Việt Nam were impressed.  They weren't the only ones. Visitors come weekly to gaze upon the harmonious interweaving of French and Vietnamese architecture.  Or ViVi's huge oil paintings of the Holy Family as Asian.  And enjoy the cool walk in the church's portico, reminiscent of ancient Greek temples. When I first attended the Dedication Mass, I was unaware of its cost. Thousands of dollars were poured into the candlesticks that lined the church walls. Enough to buy ten 55-inch TVs. Much  more was given to obtain the ornately-wrought gold tabernacle. I marveled at the generosity of the parish's 1,250 families. We ended the visit with dinner at the Thanh Thanh restaurant, about 10 minutes from the church.

What do you do when the person you love doesn't remember you? What do you do when the memories of your love together haunts you, and not them? Meet Leo. What do you do when it seems as if life is complete with a happy family and an ex-fiance who still cares for you and this strange man keeps reminding you that you have a memory loss? Meet Paige. Paige and Leo are happily married.  Newly-weds who wrote their own vows and staged their wedding (illegally) inside the Art Institute of Chicago.  Then the car accident. I did spot the cover at Target. It looked like another romantic chick flick. It has all the sweet moments. I vow to help you love life, to always hold you with tenderness and to have the patience that love demands, to speak when words are needed and to share the silence when they are not and to live within the warmth of your heart and always call it home.  - Paige And doesn't shirk the hard moments. How do you look at the woman you love, and tell you

Our Lady of Fatima "This is how you are to hold the rosary." Each of us looked at my mom carefully as she wound the plastic beads around my hand and into my little pinkie.  My younger siblings were in awe that I was deemed mature enough to hold a full-length rosary.  They only got to hold the little finger ones during our family prayer.  I was eight. "That way, the rosary doesn't slip off your hand and it keeps moving smoothly from decade to decade," mom continued. I've never quite seen anyone hold the rosary like my mom. Literally.  Most people's rosaries dangled unexpectedly into their armpits or near their behind. My mom held the rosary as any fantasy game character would hold her sword. Carefully and consciously. Never letting it leave her sight. Ready to do battle for justice and mercy. As mom ages, she's beginning to forget which pieces of jewelry marked which occasion. She's beginning to forget recipes to our favorite di