Thursday, 19 May 2011

Hitchens discusses abortion with Josef Mengele

(or his latter day counterpart.)
This atheist scientist says he "works" with fetuses and they "look human but they are not".

"I have worked with aborted fetus's during the course of my scientific studies, and I DON'T believe the things that I have dealt with in the lab situation which have come from abortions are human beings. They LOOK like them they resemble them physically, but they are not human beings."

Where have we heard that line of argument before?
Hitch the Younger nails every one of his fallacious "arguments" for murder and exposes the piffle that smart people will reduce themselves to in order to justify murder as a moral good.
Save The Whales!
Save The Trees!
Save The Seals!
Save The Planet!
(And if you change your mind and want to kill them after all, give them their latin name instead and pretend that they are something else)




(HT: Robert at Love Undefiled )

Monday, 16 May 2011

Ireland


Since getting home I've been having a pig of a time trying to upload most of my  photos . Technical gizmos defeat me. So consequently I sulked and went on a blog strike.
Because that'll show technology to mess me around.

 I think I've sulked long enough now however, so I'm going to give in and run with the few photos I've got.
We had such a great time in Ireland. The weather was untypical to say the least, and the sun shone every day. It didn't rain even once. I don't think I can remember a week in Ireland without at least some mizzle (mist/drizzle)

We got to spend time with some family.
My Aunt Kathleen came up from Cork with her husband and stayed for a couple of nights with us, and on Wednesday of Holy Week we had  some more family ( my uncle Val, his wife Joan, my cousin Peter and Uncle Seamus) over for lunch.
We attended the Easter Triduum services at the lovely little church in Glasson, where my Uncle Seamus is PP.



We adore him. He baptised Colmcille and Honor in this church.
Of three brothers who became priests, Seamus is the only one still living.
Fr Paddy and Fr Peter both died far too young. Peter only less than two years ago, and Fr Paddy died very suddenly 7 years ago.
My father has also lost two other brothers: John and Tony.
All these deaths came far too early to strong, wonderful men who should all have lived well into old age. The loss of each of them has dealt a terrible blow to my father and his remaining brothers and sisters.

I  miss Paddy terribly. He lived in England and I often used to talk with him in the evening when I had put the children to bed. His house in Dorchester was a lovely country retreat for us.
Death is so final.
When I was a child I remember Paddy coming to stay at our house and I wanted to follow him everywhere. He was huge fun and incredibly easy company. When he would retreat to his bedroom to read his Divine Office I followed him and climbed up on his knee and watched his lips mouthing the prayers.
I would pretend to do likewise and move my mouth and mutter under my breath as though I could read the words. I thought he'd be impressed.
If he noticed my pretence, he didn't let on.
When my Uncle Val gave me Paddy's very battered Breviary last week as a keepsake I felt very emotional and lonesome, for all those wonderful memories.And thankful too.


Anyway, mindful that my wonderful family are all on loan to me I want to make the most of dear Seamus while I have him. It's wonderful to have the opportunity to stay near enough that we can visit him quite often when we are in Ireland.



It's a lovely little church in a peaceful corner of the Irish countryside. The  graveyard is beautifully kept . 
Fr Seamus says  that this is where he will be "planted".




Although we managed to attend all of the other Triduum services, the parish Stations of the Cross were scheduled to start a bit late for us, so we decided to do our own with the children.
The church's garden has very beautiful Stations with brief readings carved on each one:

The fifteenth station, the resurrection, is set beside a huge ancient bog oak which a local farmer dug up in his field and gave to Seamus to erect here. He dragged it behind the tractor, sparking off the road like a flint.
It is as hard as a diamond .
I think, if my memory serves me right, he said it was at least 6000 years old. So it grew in Ireland 4000 years before the birth of Christ. That's old.

 The bog oak points  to the crucifixion, the 11th station, which is both fitting, and slightly eerie.
How can anyone imagine 6000 years, let alone infinity?





We adore you O Christ and we praise you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.




( Edited to add:
PS Did anyone notice the very elementary maths error in my original post regarding the age of the bog oak? Perhaps it slipped under the radar of most speedy readers, I hope so.
Thank goodness for the edit function. Seriously!)

Friday, 15 April 2011

Off to Ireland

We are leaving shortly for Ireland, where we will spend Holy Week, rusticating in the arcadian hinterlands of Co.Offaly, far from the decadent fleshpots of the metropolis.
And the internet.
Wishing you all a happy Pascha!
xxx

Monday, 4 April 2011

Happy Mothers Day to me!

 I have this random collection of fairly recent photos that need an excuse to be posted.
I'm going to call it my mothers day indulgence.

These are my darlings, my jewels
The sweet pulse of my heart.


Bless the LORD, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits,





















And to mothers, I heartily recommend this beautiful mother's day post by Lucy at an abundance of rainbows:

Today I also want to send flowers to all the mamas in the world.
May you see the beauty and dignity of your vocation reflected back to you in the eyes of your children. May you believe in yourself, in your wisdom and capacity to be the mother your own babies need. May you find all the grace and tenderness you share with you children poured back into you as your children grow and learn and become the men and women they were born to be.

May your children know to the depths of their souls how much you love them and may you always have patience and perseverance for the work of motherhood. May the days of little ones pass slowly for you, every moment treasured up in your heart, and may your big ones never completely untie that last apron string. May you find great joy in watching every step of your children's lives, from the first wobbly attempt to stand up all the way to making their own journey as parents or in some other adult vocation.

May you find comfort and mothering for the little girl who still looks out through your eyes and needs to be loved, to know herself truly precious. May you find support to strengthen you, whatever point in your mothering adventure you are in. And may the Lord God bless you and be with you as you share in His great task of creating and nurturing life.

Thursday, 31 March 2011

America's Got Talent 1967




Someones crying Lord

Oh wait, no, someones laughing Lord...

Hang about, someone is watching  with mouth agape Lord, kumbayah

Someones peeping  through their fingers Lord kumbayah

Someones wincing Lord, kumbayah

Ooh Loord Kumbayah.

Someones choking Lord, kumbayah

Someones LOLing Lord, kumbayah

Someone's ROFLing Lord, kumbayah



Ooohhh Looord kumbayaaah





(HT: The prolific Fr Zed)

Monday, 28 March 2011

I just nipped out for a pint of milk...

 It's been rather a while.
Has it really been three months?
Incroyable!
I got distracted elsewhere.
I found a new online place to play and being  a shallow, fickle flibbertigibbit(sp?) with only so much time to spend online, I just wandered off and left my blog hanging in suspenders.
Humble apologies to anyone who's been wondering if all's well chez battlementsofrubies.


Here's what happened:
I was invited to join a new local neighbourhood forum. The sort where people mostly post about what's happening on Coronation Street, or The Archers, or ask questions about decent local restaurants and hairdressers.
Long story short ( and I'll get round to some of the long story later) I fell in. Like Alice down the rabbit hole.
Down, down, down.

And being the scrappy controversialist that I am, and delighting in the opportunity for a bit of swashbuckling , I got embroiled in all  sorts of discussions which were very far removed from the usual more pedestrian fare.
Like Alice, I've gone among mad people. It was quite absorbing.
And I've only recently emerged blinking into the sunlight. Where did the time go?

This local forum has a bit of history because it was started in response to a growing frustration with an already well established but very badly run other local forum.

So the new forum was born, and I was invited to join.

And then shortly after, someone posted a comment about how the Pope "thinks condoms are good now"
And then someone responded and said this:

"Most of what the Catholic church (as well as other churches) says has a political aim as well as a religious purpose. I don't follow the news about the Pope, tbh, so I can't comment on the reason of his move and its timing, but I'm reasonably sure it's not because the church has suddenly come round to the right way of thinking.
I used to have several practising catholics among my friends when I lived in Italy - they all used contraception, sometimes more than one method at the same time. "Religious but not stupid", in the words of one of them."

A red rag to my bull. I couldn't let that go.

It was like letting the hare out of the trap.
And that's where it all kicked off.
You can go and read the conversation that unfolded  here.

We covered a lot of stuff. At some point we were joined by a chap who works as a full time evangelist for the local Baptist church. He was very indignant by my defense of the churches teaching on contraception and wanted to know where all that was in the bible ( such grist to my popish mill!).
Later, when things had become quite convoluted, a newcomer asked for a precis of the discussion up to that point.
One of my interlocutors said this:

"Clare thinks her ability to string a sentence together in an effective manner will disguise the fact she is basically an RC supremacist standing in the way of sensible precautions for Africans likely to contract HIV"

Charming.
I responded by graciously thanking him for the compliment regarding my wordsmithery.  I noted that the appellation "RC Supremacist", when spoken, becomes "arsey supremacist" which  isn't necessarily so wide of the mark as it happens. 



It was feisty, and reasonably good natured, mostly.
Only a fellow swashbuckler could understand my interest in discussions like these. Some friends of mine are completely mystified by why I would want to engage in an exchange that they would find draining and even hurtful.
But I don't. As I said, I enjoy the parry and lunge. I find it energising.
And having to answer my critics means that I learn a lot too.
It's a good discipline to have to be very careful about the claims one makes when ones audience is hostile and ready to seize upon innacuracies or exagerrated claims as proof of my idiocy.

At times I fancied I was one of  those scrappy little karate kicking girls in Japanese films who end up taking on, and taking out , a roomful of men. As soon as one is dispatched, another pops up.


It was exhilarating at times, and frustrating at others.


One of my most challenging objectives was to make a point pithily without using too many words. That was hard. There is so much to say!

Mostly I struggle with brevity and want to cram too much into my response.

At one point I was told:
"Whether you like it or not if humans had (or do) follow the Catholic church's teaching on contraception there would be a total disaster. "
This was fairly typical of the general point of view.
And it did get a bit wearing constantly explaining why it was that, whether they liked it or not, if everyone followed the catholic churches teaching on sexuality, HIV would burn itself out within a single generation.


It should  be obvious that the Catholic church is not simply telling people to cast off their condoms and carry on regardless.
And it should be easy to see how  a catholic living a chaste life is at far less risk of catching HIV, than the sexual incontinent who puts his trust in the salvific power of the mighty condom.
But it isn't obvious at all to those who have been thoroughly inculcated with the slick marketing of the condom alongside the concept of "safe sex".
The condom is defended with a religious fervour.
Any criticism of the "safe sex" credo and the condomistas go spastic.
My interlocutors, who mostly saw the church as the enemy of poor Africans and women everywhere,  seemed to imagine that hordes of sexually incontinent risk takers will mysteriously become obedient to the churches teaching in one area only: that of condom use.

It was an interesting conversation. But if you don't have time to read it, watch this video instead for a short nutshell presentation of why the Pope was right about condoms not being the answer to the problem of AIDS:







Anyway, in the three months I've been away from here, it's because I've been busy over there.
We went from condoms to arguments for the existence of God, to discussions between the Baptist evangelist and I about Sola Scriptura and free will ( he doesn't believe we have it) to the authority of the church.
Inevitably we ended up with the hottest of hot potatoes: abortion.
I went out to meet the culture, as Fr Barron would say, with musket, fife and drum.




Anyway, that's what I've been up to online lately.
I'm sorry I've been gone so long .
It's nice to be back.

Saturday, 4 December 2010

Story time with Grandad: Little red Riding Hood.

While my father was reading to the girls last week, I sneakily nipped into the utility room, fired up the mobile phone and took a video. I'm not usually very good at being on the spot with  technology to capture the moment when it presents itself. But I'm glad I managed to catch this for posterity.

I love hearing my father read stories, and it's adorable to see the girls enjoying it too. Funnily enough, I don't 'hear' his accent when I'm speaking to him, but I notice it on a recording. Don't know why that is.

( Memo to self: Pipe down when recording, ones voice is awfully loud and annoying)

Friday, 3 December 2010

More snow news

The urchins are loving the snow.
Dominic and Colmcille went out for a fight and Colmcille came off worst. In fact I don't think he managed to land even one on the far too fleet of foot Dominic.
It wasn't a fair fight really.

I meant to take a photo when I opened the door to them but the phone was on video mode.
Boys. You have to love them.

And for Gabriel ( because I know he'll enjoy this, and he's under the weather with flu at the moment)  here's a video of the Irish Dominicans having a snowfight :



(HT: Fr Tim)

From your 24/7 rolling news service...This just in

Snow news.
A woman dialled emergency services today after  thieves made off with her snowman.
She had given him pound coins for eyes and teaspoons for arms ( hmmm, teaspoons?) and the brigands made off with those too.

Listen here to the audio of her frantic call for help.
"There's been a theft from outside my house." She said.
"I haven't been out to check on him for five hours but I went outside for a fag and he's gone."
When she was asked who had gone, the woman replied: "My snowman. I thought that with it being icy and there not being anybody about, he'd be safe."
She was then asked whether it was an ornament, and answered: "No, a snowman made of snow, I made him myself. 
It ain't a nice road but at the end of the day, you don't expect someone to nick your snowman, you know what I mean?"

The police did not really know what madam meant and were not amused.

"I went outside for a fag and he's gone"


Tuesday, 23 November 2010

Honors first haircut


Honor had her first haircut last week. 



 
Auntie Shirley is hairdresser by Royal appointment to all of us, and proper clever with the old shears.



Until a few years ago I used to take the children in to Carnaby St where she worked and get us all sharpened up and then we'd go off on a visit to a gallery somewhere. That was fun.



 But since Shirley had Riley four years ago, and then I had the girls, the getting there became hard work, and less fun.
So now we go round to Shirleys in the evening for our makeover instead.
 Colmcille was first up for the chop ( no pictures of him mid chop, but some after shots to follow)
which gave Honor enough time to settle and even feel slightly envious of the attention being given to his over grown barnet.
A little barnet envy was the aim at any rate. Three year olds are tricky and one has to be one step ahead of their trickiness if one hopes to secure their co operation.

So although Honors haircut was the Main Event, I affected cool disinterest in Honors hair, and oohed and aahed over Colmcilles while she sat on my lap and buried her head in my shoulder, all the while stealing glances at Colmcilles diminishing bush whenever she thought no one was looking .
If at this point I had told her how lovely it would be if she had her haircut too, or cajoled her to look at the lovely haircut Shirley was giving Colmcille,  and didn't she want one too?  all bets would have been off.
But like I said :taps nose: ...
one step ahead...

 Softly, softly catchee monkey...
By the time Colmcilles turn in the chair came to an end she was practically begging to be shorn.
She sat very still (mostly) and was pleased  to wear the crinkly adult sized gown which she kept fingering lovingly .
 When she had warmed up, Mark took these snaps of her. These last three, taken after the gown came off, are great.
 She completely lost her earlier self consciousness and was delighted with herself.


 Marie-Aibhlinn is still quite a long way off needing a haircut. I love nuzzling her little baby head.

 
 


She's almost walking and this is her favourite spot. Standing beside me holding on to my lap.
She's a little kitten.


 And while I don't have any "before" pictures of Colmcille, but he was starting to resemble cousin Itt





  This is a vast improvement.



Changing The World: One Diaper At A Time.

The most important person on earth is a mother. She cannot claim the honor of having built Notre Dame Cathedral. She need not. She has buil...