Morning Star

"Dad, what are you doing? "I'm trimming this branch so the whole bush will look like a dove in several years." I had just gotten home. Fourth-grade in a new school was grueling. "Dad, what happened to our roses?" "Well..." he said slowly. "They were so pretty... white ones, yellow ones, red ones, my favorite was the yellow with red edges," I prattled on. "You know how Mom went to the doctor the other day." I nodded, suddenly noticing how slow he spoke. "They said she was allergic to pollen. Roses have pollen." He bent his head and went back to trimming. I looked around our front yard. I just realized that Dad had uprooted every flowering plant in the last few days: his eight rose bushes, the jasmine vine that climbed all over our front fence, and the hibiscus flowers that bordered our left path. He had put down other plants in its place, like this evergreen shrub. Every year, when Lent begins and all the flowers a...

"How was the Chapter, Father?" "Well. Thank you for asking. It was very short," Fr. Roch answered, peering over his glasses. My classmates and I were settling down to our Ecclesiology class at the monk's library. Fr. Roch, our instructor, had shared with us that his Cistercian community were having elections for a new abbot. The process is usually called Chapter of Elections. "The vote was practically unanimous. This is a blessing. It means that we are united," Fr. Roch continued. No one exactly knew how old Fr. Roch was but scores of college professors across the United States boast of being taught by him. "I was telling my freshman class that Fr. Peter, our new abbot, is a wonderful man. You know, he was my student. The class of 1973." 1973. All of us in the room definitely wasn't even born yet. "They asked me how I felt about kneeling down in front of Fr. Peter, my student, and vowing obedience until the day of my death....

"Vân, here you go!" My dad handed me a tiny package. I looked at him closely. Like most Vietnamese fathers, he rarely gave gifts. Not even on birthdays. "It might be helpful when you bake," he explained. Then he disappeared into the garage. I slowly opened the plain white box. The priest said St. Valentine didn't exist in this morning's homily. And this is the reason why the Roman Catholic Church does not include his name on the liturgical calendar. Perhaps Father was concerned that his flock would reduce today's holidays to outward signs of affection. Or he didn't realize that the Libreria Editrice Vaticana (Vatican's official publishing house) in its Martyrologium Romanum stated that the "martyr Valentinus the Presbyter and those with him at Rome" remains in the list of saints proposed for veneration by all Catholics. He's just not in the universal calendar. It wasn't a box of chocolates. Or a hand-written letter. A batte...

It's easy to like Hiccup because he doesn't like himself. Everyone knows what it's like not to like yourself. It's easy to feel sorry for Stoick the Vast. He's Hiccup's dad and he has no clue about his son or his enemies, the dragons. Everyone knows what it's like to think you know your reality and your enemies. It's the year of the dragon and I was looking for a dragon-themed movie. Fr. Joseph at the Redemptorist monastery had extolled the dragon's ability to spew both water and fire. It's mythical yet in legends of every part of the world. With or without wings, it flies. In the East, they're signs of luck. In the West, they're enemies. The movie can't be too dramatic. Some of the sisters don't like to cry. The movie can't be too action-packed. Some of the sisters don't like blood and gore. Between Hiccup, Stoick, and Toothless, the dragon, something was there for everyone. I think something will be there for you i...

"Valerie, I hope everyone dies before you go home!" Valerie's eyebrows shot up. "Sr. Janine, I don't know if you want everyone in the hospital to die..." she replied. It was my fourth week at Parkland Hospital. Everyone knew handling a patient's death is one of the most difficult assignments for a chaplain. The paperwork was extensive and the emotional atmosphere of the family was unpredictable and intense. "Well, I don't mean everyone . You know what I mean. I know you were here all day today and you're staying for the evening shift also because no one is available so I shouldn't say that. But I'm a newbie," I explained. Valerie laughed and shook her head good-naturedly. She was a seasoned chaplain and took most things lightly. Five hours later, Valerie playfully cornered me in our pastoral department's office. "Sr. Janine, did you know two patients died?" "Yes." "Did you know it happened within ...

"Ma, can you scratch my nose for me?" Connie slowly rubbed his nose. Each of Ryan's fingers had small pins coming from it. Ryan had been in the hospital for over a month. I was his chaplain the day he came in the emergency room for severe burns. He never knew I was there. Like any mom, Connie was overwhelmed with fear. His only other brother, five years older, kept muttering it was his responsibility to keep Ryan safe. Burns. Burns on kids. Months of recovery. Every chaplain dreads getting these cases. A nurse came into check Ryan's dressing. "Sister, you know when Kimmie here first came in, you know what Ryan said," Connie remarked. Kimmie was about 4feet 10 inches and very petite. "He said that he wanted his grown-up nurse. He looked at Kimmie and said he wanted his grown-up nurse!" Connie broke into chuckles. "He thought that you were a make-believe nurse?" I asked Kimmie. "That's what he said. We didn't understand him...