Blogging can be useful to some!

I was recently thinking about deleting this blog, since I seem to find so little time to post things; and the initial impetus for writing it has gone, or rather, I have moved on from it. We will be quitting sunny Shropshire in the Summer, and I shall miss the countryside around here. We will, hopefully, have a proper Parish, where we can regularly attend the Mass of Ages, with not an altar girl in sight (and I do love little girls, I really do - probably more so because I was never blessed with one!). We will no longer have to drive for 30 - 40 minutes on a Sunday afternoon so that we can attend an Old Rite Mass at the awful time of 3pm (I'm guaranteed to start dropping off during the sermon at that time!), but I will miss the people of the peripatetic Latin Mass community, although they are now dwindling fast due to the establishment of a regular 6pm Latin Mass in the parish of the Franciscan Friars of the Immaculate in Staffordshire (thanks be to God!). We thought that there would not be many at Mass today, so were pleasantly surprised by the presence of a family - a young couple, the grandparents, the three year old son, and three week old daughter, who don't normally come. It was the mum who made me think maybe I should carry on posting occasionally, as she mentioned, over tea and tabnabs after Mass, that she'd recently discovered my blog, and found it helpful - she must have been reading some of my early posts, which dealt with our attempts to adopt (I rarely go back and read what I wrote, so I can't remember what's there that could have been helpful to her!!) When I first met her, we were both attending a home-educating group, and her little boy was about two then, but I knew she longed for more children. Having been in her position, I can honestly say I would have been of little help in encouraging her, as by then I had realised that prayers don't always get answered the way we want them to. I firmly believe that God doesn't give us what we want, but what we need. I am also heartily glad for her that what she wanted was what God knew she needed, and she now proudly holds a beautiful little girl! Praise Him!
As for the home educating, we are still in a quandary as to whether to carry on once we move. Our son is really flapping his wings, longing to fly further and further from the nest - all to be expected at his age, despite his inability to find anything he needs when he wants it, "Mum, where is my ..." "Right in front of your nose". But perhaps that's just a male thing, "Darling, where is my ..." "Just here, where you left it..."
Is school what he needs? - the good Lord seems to be giving him an opportunity to go. It's not what he wants, (mostly because he fears hard work, I think!). I'm not sure it's what I want, (I'd rather he remained a dunderhead and kept his Faith and purity), but God knows what is best, and we're hoping He's going to make it clear to us what should be done.

Meanwhile, I shall try and enjoy my garden as it comes into bloom, for the last time before we rent our house out, knowing that there is little likelihood that it will be cared for overmuch by tenants...


The blue and white garden that I have longed for, is still not in evidence, although there seem to be plenty of blues coming out at present, the whites will probably only put in an appearance after this lot have died off - ho hum...







I thought this rather an apt word-picture of the garden, which was reluctantly brought forth from my son's pen, as a description of what he could see from the school-room window...
"Through the French doors I see a red pot on a black wrought iron stand, which is sitting on the lawn, in the middle of which is a clothes drier. Further down, a bench with a metal arch sits, and after it a pond, over which a tall clump of bamboo hangs. There are shrubs around the pond, and up each side of the lawn there are flower beds, fillled with flowers, shrubs and bushes; and beyond the pond the untidy patch of wilderness that used to be a vegetable garden, is in full bloom with dandelions, daisies, forget-me-nots and buttercups. The shed which is hidden by the bamboo, stands behind the pond."

Glamour,Baggy Pants and Feminist Pride

I remember a Priest once giving a sermon in which he described the idea of "glamour" as being harmful to our society. I was rather taken aback by this, having strived (most unsuccessfully) to be glamorous, for most of my art-school days. I was very much influenced by one of my fellow studentesses, a Glasweigian glamour queen named Susan; though, when I looked through the eyes of reality, I could see that two rather dumpy females below the height of 5'2", would never have made the grade! Yet, after mulling over this sermon, I began to realise that the Priest was right, in as much as so many young people waste so much time over vain things such as their looks, or rather someone else's look, and how to achieve it. It was a sad indictment of the Catholic schooling system in the 60's and 70's, that when Susan and I were in the first year of our Fine Art course, and were seated before the wonderful set of Poussin paintings of the Seven Sacraments, in the Art Gallery in Edinburgh, neither of us were able, after having acknowledged to the Art History tutor that we were the only Catholic representatives of the youthful gathering at his feet, to list what all the seven Sacraments were! But we certainly knew how to try and look 'cool' . I was brought up a Catholic, but I didn't really know my faith. I never missed Mass, but I didn't really know why. I distinctly remember loving the sermons of the Dominican priests at the Chaplaincy in Edinburgh, they appealed to my intellect, or maybe to my intellectual pride. I only had a few qualms when one of them decided to make me a "Eucharistic Minister" minutes before the Mass one day (before these things were generally allowed)- letting me know that it was only an accident of history, and our culture, that had stopped women being ordained, but it wouldn't be long now, before the Church changed.... I drank in the feminist gobbledegook that was spouted at the time.... I was able to believe what I wanted, form the opinions I chose to hold, but, I must have a wonderful Guardian Angel, and very prayerful parents, because somehow I never went too far astray. I was always interested in my Faith, and wanted to know what the Truth was, and because of that, I've never liked to rest until I am convinced one way or another about something. It is obvious that different Priests will give different opinions on what is right or wrong, and if we are intelligent, or even just bothered about where the Truth lies, we lay people sometimes have to research beyond what a certain Priest has said, and look to what the Church teaches. By the Grace of God, and the intercession of His Blessed Mother, and my Guardian Angel, I believe I was able to get rid of most of my "feminist" notions - and I have found this incredibly liberating! I eventually realised it was wrong for women to be considering that it was their "right" to stand at the altar alongside the Priest. It is the same with modesty - there are many different opinions out there about what constitutes modest dress.

Those Catholic women who love to show off their bottoms in trousers (or pants, as our American friends would call them) - and there's no denying that trousers show off bottoms, except perhaps for the ones I used to wear in my "arty" days, which my Father described as looking like an "elephant's arse hanging down" - they were otherwise known as 'harem pants' - love also to justify it along the lines of "if the men want to ogle, then it's their problem", and, "I have 24 daughters, so I know a thing or two about modesty, and it's all in their hearts, and God doesn't mind one iota whether they flaunt what they've got, coz He gave it to them". But is this really Catholic teaching, I would like to ask? Or is it just the opinion of some women (or men)? Why, may I ask, is their opinion more true than that of say, Pope Pius XII, where he says,

" With regard to clothing, modesty requires especially two things: first, care that one does not make purity difficult for oneself, or for others, by one's own mode of dress; and, second, a prudent but firm and courageous resistance to the styles and customs, no matter how popular or widespread, or adopted by others, which are a danger to purity ."

I think I would really have appreciated my mother teaching me that when I was a young woman. I might not have gone along with it, but I would definitely have kept coming back to it, because it is so True.
And I do think it so sad that so few of these women actually consider the purity of their sons, husbands, Priests, and fellow Christian men, who could be led to sin by their immodesty - surely their souls are as important to save as those of their glamorous daughters?
I suspect a lot of it is to do with residual feminist pride... Yet as a searcher for the Truth, I'm willing to be convinced otherwise, but not from unauthoritative opinions, please!

Of Mantillas and Meatless Fridays..

Here is an interesting post (with its comments), written by Rita at Tigerish waters, - it makes me feel like I'm not quite alone! I used to attend Mass in a parish where we once lived. I gradually became aware of the way young girls particularly, were beginning to dress in what can only be called an extremely immodest fashion. I distinctly remember hinting to one young lady, (a lovely girl) at the parish barbequeue, that she ought to pull her trousers up, since her underwear was showing. Later on, as I was chatting to a couple of other mums, they informed me that it was "the fashion", and quite intentional! I became increasingly uncomfortable with seeing these young girls waltzing through the Church to the sacristy prior to robing up for Mass, in their low cut jeans, showing off belly and bottom, and sometimes almost their nether regions, and other ladies, young and old, going onto the sanctuary to read, or be Extraordinary Ministers, clad in skin tight clothing, with arms and shoulders bare. I discussed this with my husband, and he said that it was a big distraction for a lot of men, since they are easily attracted by the shape and form of a woman. I began to realise how difficult it must be for some men, including Priests, who struggle with purity, to be constantly bombarded with such visual stimulation from scantily clad women - and how wrong it was for this to be going on in Church. I read more and more about modesty, and veiling, and became more and more convinced that though it may be uncomfortable and embarrassing for me, God wanted me to wear a head covering; I initially did so, as an act of reparation for all the immodesty I was witnessing. When I first went up to read, wearing my "mantilla", my husband said he thought it looked beautiful, and chaste, and modest. Other people in the parish weren't too happy, and thought that I had changed, even though I came and chatted to them after Mass in the same old way. But in some ways, I suppose, I had. I began to feel much less distracted at Mass, I could focus on the Mass, and I felt much more submissive before God. I was beginning at that time, to become aware of the Mass as the Sacrifice of Calvary in a much more "real" way, and being veiled, as Mary would have been, at the foot of the Cross, seemed so much more appropriate. I now feel very bare if I forget to bring a head covering, and I keep an emergency scarf in the car, just in case. When we moved to a new parish, I had to go through the embarrassment of being the "odd one out" again. But, I think decent people just get used to it, and don't worry about it after a while. If it bothers anyone, then that's their problem, not mine. If they want to know whether or not I'm a hard-line dyed in the wool Traditionalist, then they can come and talk to me to find out- if they choose not to, then that's up to them, and I don't mind what opinion they form of me, it's only their opinion, after all. The One who needs to know what I'm like, does so already!
I did have one chap ask me (having never spoken to me about anything whatsoever before) whether I still didn't eat meat on Fridays, as though it were some kind of a big joke. I mumbled something about 'not if I can help it', but really felt like saying 'I can't afford to eat meat most days of the week, you big fat geezer!' - he did look rather well-fed -(See what a Saint I am!).
I have moved in a different direction, to some degree; I no longer read at Mass, I don't see the need for me to do so, even though I was an excellent reader; my thoughts on lay reading have changed. My ego has improved since then too (in a spiritual way, ie, it's getting smaller!!)
I tend to go to Mass where I feel at home, and that usually means the old Latin Mass, Extraordinary, Gregorian, Tridentine, call it what you will.
And I don't always wear a mantilla - in fact, mine is not really a mantilla at all, just a huge length of black cotton lace I'd kept in a cupboard for years, Iwould never manage to keep one of those nylon lacey mantilla thingies on my bonce; I'm sure it would cause much fidgeting! I've got a brightly coloured stripey 'veil' too, which I wear Pashmina fashion.

And then there's the Martin Luther bonnet I made myself, which is great in winter,although I do look a bit prettier than him in it... and I wear it with more aplomb, (even if I do say so myself!).
It can be seen onthe corner of the chair bedecked in my "veil" collection. The little heart-shaped picture is of Saint Maria Goretti, another of my favourite saints - a good lassie to pray to, to intercede for all these silly young folk who have lost the sense of modesty, and their parents who seem unable to do anything about it.

Wimbledon, and How the Other Half Live..

We've had quite a busy week - piano, grade 2 exam on Tuesday morning, very exhausting for me, since I kept waking up all night with his tunes playing around in my head, panicking because I hadn't really heard him consistently play them well, because he does NOT practise enough. He's not a natural born musician, but he can play, and play well, if he applies himself. As far as his Father and I see it, he needs to have some discipline; and learning to play, and pass exams gives him this - since as a homeschooler, he won't be getting the same experience of being tested and examined as other children his age. He will be glad of it one day, even if it means he'll be able to bash away at the old joanna down the pub, with his mates, once he leaves home! Anyway, he didn't seem too phased by the whole affair, so we'll see....
Then in the afternoon, we drove down to stay overnight with an old friend of mine, (from Uni) and her husband, who live in a town just north of London. We spent time in the Abbey, and the Roman museum, and arrived at their house at a time when she would be back from work, about sixish. We had a cuppa, and a biccie, and chatted for a while. My son watched a bit of the Wimbledon highlights on the tv, and I suddenly realised how uncomfortable I felt being in the home of someone who is a dear friend, but who has no understanding of how we have been keeping our son from the impurity of tv. If we are at the grandparent's house, he knows he has to leave the room whenever the adverts come on - even when flicking through channels, but they at least have some understanding of why. Anyway, we got to the sports channel, without witnessing too much advertising for adult programmes - yes, they like to pack in sex, violence, and horror excerpts into the previews they put on before 9 o'clock of shows which are to come on after the ha ha "9 o'clock" ho ho, "watershed"; although I did have to stick my rather large backside in front of the box, whilst one such preview came on. Then my friend and I chatted some more, and I wondered when we'd be having supper. Her husband arrived, and we all decided we'd go to the allotment, and water some of their plants. I wondered some more when we'd be having supper. We got back, and I still wondered when we were going to have supper. Her husband asked my son what time he normally went to bed, he spouted some nonsense about half past nine - oh yeah, that's what he'd like it to be, but I could hardly insist too much in front of them that it was usually half eight to nine, since that was the current time, and we STILL hadn't had supper. But I think the hint was dropped, and my friend thought she'd better get on with starting to prepare some food!
It is interesting that some people who don't have children, don't have any idea that it might be appropriate to offer food to a child at a slightly earlier time than they themselves might eat!! Anyway, we got fed, and got him off to bed, ready for his big day at Wimbledon - his birthday gift from us, since we'd been offered tickets for court number one, via his tennis club - they cost an arm and a leg - but since the good Lord has only given us one child, we can afford to indulge him occasionally!
And of course, he took his own spending money, so that he could indulge himself, on the famous Wimbledon "Strawberries, and Cream" - which weren't bad, but not half as good as the strawberries we'd picked from the garden of our friends down the road, earlier in the week!!

It's taken me to the end of the week to recover from the late nights, and the travelling though!

A Slow introduction

Well, it's about a week or so on since I last wrote anything, which proves to me that I am not an avid blogger. Some days one feels one has a lot to say, other days one thinks, why bother saying anything?
I homeschool an only child, a lovely lively boy of 10 years. It has been a privilege to watch him grow and develop, and at times, I have enjoyed teaching him, at other times it IS hard work. He is a boy, and so is reluctant to get on with his work. Girls just seem more diligent - but I could be generalising a bit too much here! He is bright, and imaginative, and learns quite easily. I often think back to when I was his age, and consider the amount of things I was taught, and realise that I didn't know half the stuff he already knows, so I'm not too worried about keeping up with the "National Curriculum" (I managed to go on to further education, and I'm sure he'll be able to, if and when the time comes).
My husband and I were just discussing one thing about our boy, the fact that, despite his bursts of obnoxiousness, he has maintained (by the grace of God) his purity, and modesty. He hates to hear swearing, and see immodest pictures, and he is still innocent when it comes to the things children aren't meant to know about - at least until they want to know about them! When we were being assessed to be approved to adopt, (over 5 years ago now - ho hum, but that's another story, one entitled "why are we waiting") I remember our social worker at the time asking me "does he know about the facts of life" (I'm sure she didn't use that phrase, but it was sooooo long ago, I can't exactly remember her words), and I told her bluntly, he hasn't asked, so I haven't told him anything yet, when he does, I will. I am still amazed that primary schools have disgusting books explaining what mummy and daddy do to reproduce, available from an early age. Talk about abusing children, our schools are doing it wholesale. Our lad's not stupid, when he wants to know something, he'll ask. And we're giving him the chance to do it when he's ready.
Thanks be to God that we have St Maria Goretti to intercede for our young ones (and ourselves).

Catholic Homeschooling in the UK

My first posting.
What shall I say? the blog title seems to express it quite succinctly.
Homeschooling is a bit like this, most days I get up and - I don't know what I'm doing; I only know that my husband and I felt like it was the Right thing to do, that it was what the Holy Spirit was calling us to do, and maybe writing things down will help me to keep finding the way forward, even though I often feel stuck.
I've spent the last few months reading other people's blogs, on and off, and never felt like starting one myself, but the things some people write are so audacious that I felt I had to have some identity in order to comment on their blogs, so in trying to do that I seem to have accidentally created a blog of my own. If I keep at it, maybe one day I will be able to say I DO know what I'm doing, at last!
We are Catholic, unashamedly and gratefully Catholic. We want the Catholic faith to be experienced as something beautiful, and true in our children's lives, and we see the rapid decline in purity in the young as something that has to be countered.
But it is not easy. Children can not live in a vacuum, they have to engage with the world. It is a difficult fence top to be balancing on. How can we enable them to keep their purity, whilst still being a part of a world where impure images, and ideas abound.
How many parents really want their children to be exposed to the front page of the "Daily Star", or whatever it is, that always has some poor exploited woman being exhibited. Why are these papers being shown in Morrisons, Tescos, or Sainsburys at child's eye level?
All our children are precious. Homeschooling is just another way, that has been shown to us, in which we as parents can try to keep them precious, and unspoilt.