Mea Culpa

Jul. 15th, 2008 07:43 pm
hobgoblinn: (Default)
It's just as well that I never sent that letter to the Bishop a while back. That's behind a friends lock, but the short version is, I was very angry at the Good Monsignor's continued unfriendly attitude toward me and Wee Hob. I decided to wait until it felt less like I was sending a flame, and by then I had realized that I wasn't sure what I really wanted and that sending such an incendiary letter was a really good way to take away all my choice in the matter. I do work there, after all, and sometimes I even get paid.

And now, I am in possession of some new information. Some information that leads me to believe I owe the good monsignor an apology, and although he has likely never seen my journal, a retraction here. )

So, while the Good Monsignor has maybe not been as gracious as he might have been, I really haven't been either. And my son is both a thief and a liar and I really do not know what to do. Other than take away all his privileges again, not trust him, be really angry at him and tell him I might take a long while to get over it, and make him write a letter of apology to the Good Monsignor: legible, properly spelled, and demonstrating both a clear understanding of all the ways his actions have wronged the man and a sincere penitence for it. This last is torture in a lot of ways-- he has a hard time writing, and it will take several copies before he gets one that's acceptable.

His therapist knows about it and is backing up my letter of apology demand-- he'll be excluded from camp outings until it's completed. The senseless of it really gets me, on top of the whole betrayal of trust thing. I mean, he was already caught, and these items were ones we had already told him we knew were stolen. How hard could it be to give them back to the right people, while you're already being punished for the offense? He lost all privileges and was grounded for months-- it's not like I could have done anything worse because he honestly had nothing left to take Already. I. Do. Not. Understand.

Back to my point. I was wrong, about a great many things, and regardless of anybody else's actions or omissions, and I wanted to state that publicly and for the record. Which I have now done.
hobgoblinn: (Default)
Last night Wee Hob and I got dressed up to attend the annual banquet for the Bishop's Choir. I haven't been as regular and faithful to the group as I'd like to be, and I was honored to be invited anyway. But the real honoree that night was an amazing fellow who has devoted the last 74 years of his life to this chorus. Here's the article that ran in the local paper.

Tornadoes and grace )

Aventure

Mar. 21st, 2008 06:21 pm
hobgoblinn: (Default)
Seems like I should post something in honor of the day. Here's a reflection on a section of The Queste del Saint Graal, a 13th Century Arthurian Romance. There's a really good Penguin paperback translation for those of us who never got around to learning Medieval French entitled The Quest of the Holy Grail.

In the story, Sir Hector and Sir Gawain meet up about halfway through the tale, and immediately begin to lament that they haven't been having the usual number of "aventures." Sir Gawain even goes so far as to say that:

'...it is not for want of journeying through foreign parts and far-flung lands and riding day and night. For I swear to you, as you are my companion, that in the course of merely going my way, and no other measure taken, I have slain more than ten knights already, the worst of whom was more than adequate, and still have met no adventure.'

Hector crossed himself in amazement.


Well, it doesn't sound like it's been completely snoozeville, does it? But what our intrepid Knights find out from a conveniently situated Holy Man they run across, is that they Haven't Been Looking at things correctly. Here's the translator's note about the meaning of "aventure":

In a general way the adventure represents the random, the gratuitous, the unpredictable element in life; often it is the challenge which causes a man to measure himself against standards more than human, to gamble life for honour or both for love. To this the author of the Quest adds a further dimension. For him, the adventure is above all God working and manifesting Himself in the physical world. To accept an adventure is to accept an encounter with a force which is in the proper sense of the word supernatural, an encounter which is always perilous for the sinner or the man of little faith and much presumption.... Gawain's failure to meet with any adventure springs from his spiritual blindness, his inability to discern the divine element in human life.

So on this almost Easter (for Western Christians), I wish for all of us the gift of Right Seeing, of being open to wonder and magic and joy. Not everyone on this list subscribes to the same beliefs about higher powers, I know. I don't think that matters. The Grail author hit upon a profound truth, I think, no matter what we believe. That no matter what happens to us in life, it's our openness to being moved to wonder or awe that transforms the day to day drudgery into something-- Else. Something cool. Something that takes our breath away wondering why we never saw it before. Something that makes us grin for no reason at all.

There's none so blind as those who will not see.

So. Look.
hobgoblinn: (snapecuff)
I couldn't figure out why I've been in such foul temper all weekend. Yesterday, I could see it-- insufficient caffeine, 5 hours of mind numbing boredom in a training class for fundraiser groups to work concessions stands at Reds games, 4.5 hours of which was spent wondering what on Earth had possessed me to agree to said fundraiser, when I could make more money working the same number of weddings (and spend a Lot less time). And it was cold and rainy.

But today I slept late, had a beautiful dream involving having an confrontation with the Good Monsignor, and had plenty of coffee, but I was still short tempered and on edge all day. So much so that I didn't even make Wee Hob go to mass tonight. I probably could have gotten him to, but the decision was less about fighting with him to get ready than it was about Not wanting to get into an actual confrontation with said Good Monsignor about That Boy being in the building with (possibly) no "acceptable" overseer sitting right next to him in the pew. Honestly, in the mood I was in today, I thought there might be "killins". Or something. So hey, if the Good Monsignor wanted me to feel welcome with my kid in his church, he has failed on an epic scale. Yes, I am immature. Your point?

But talking with my Fearless Leader before mass, it suddenly hit me. Oh. Yeah. My eldest son was born on Palm Sunday, 16 years ago this year. The actual date is about a month hence, but still. Funny how those anniversary dates work, isn't it?. Anyway, after some lovely singing, and a couple of hugs and prayers, I felt loads better. And a bottle of Sam Adams Scotch Ale with dinner didn't hurt, either.

I do hope [livejournal.com profile] zeegrindylows updates De Profundis on schedule tonight sometime-- that fic is really eating away at my imagination as only really good stories or intriguing premeses tend to for me. I find myself spending more time daydreaming scenarios for her fic than for one of mine in progress. Which, by the way, should be up by next weekend-- I have one beta out of town until Tuesday, and thought I'd spend the time polishing the section and starting on the next before putting it up for both of them at once.

Should be a busy week-- Tuesday night Chrism Mass, Good Friday service, and Easter. Luckily I'm not technically in Choir right now, or it would be Holy Thursday, another Good Friday service and Easter Vigil as well. Ah well. Maybe next year. I may pinch hit on Easter morning if I'm asked to. One good thing about a repertory chorus is, you tend to do the same 200 or so pieces a lot. Plus, I read well enough to get away with sight reading stuff I don't know. Even when I'm at rehearsal, I often end up singing a different part than the one I rehearsed, to fill gaps caused by absences in a section.

Happy Holy Week for those who celebrate it, and happy regular week for everyone else.
hobgoblinn: (Default)
Far away friends will be pleased to know that the White Death has already almost melted off-- by the time I ventured out this afternoon, the streets were quite clear, as was my car. Almost everything is melted off my balcony as well. But that's not what I wanted to write about.

What I really want to do is rant more about the Good Monsignor )

But No, enough of that. The Gospel today. )

And now, Wee Hob has decided he will cook dinner, so I need to get out the fire extinguisher. And then try to cobble several variant versions of the next part of In Loco into some coherent whole. Or better yet, scrap everything and start new here. Thanks to everyone who's read and commented on that and patted me on the head when I whine about it.

Hmm-- what's that I smell? One fire extinguisher, coming up.
hobgoblinn: (snape quill)
Thanks first to all who expressed support in my recent travails with the Church. For those who are interested, here's a site with some shots of the inside of the church in question. The second photo down shows the choir loft in which, or under which, I sing every Sunday and Holy Day. The fourth shows the stained glass window I face every week-- one of the largest in the world. With all the cool stuff to see in there, is it any wonder Wee Hob wanders a bit? And there are even cooler hidey holes and secret passages you can't see in these photos.

I know that a Church is more than beautiful surroundings, though. )
But enough of that, what about the Movie? )

Stephen Sondheim-- what's not to love? )
hobgoblinn: (snapecuff)
and wonders if this is a Bad Thing. )
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