Prayer to Saint Joseph

Saint Joseph has guided and protected our family, particularly over the past eight or so turbulent months. When we prayed for guidance and direction about where to live, our prayers for intercession were directed to Saint Joseph, beloved foster father of Our Blessed Lord. Although we are now happily moved and settled into a new home and parish, we have friends who are in the throes of moving or buying or selling houses, so we've continued our nightly novena to Saint Joseph for their intentions. I thought that those readers who have not come across it might want to add it to their prayer armoury.

The beautiful picture (above) of Saint Joseph and the Infant Jesus hangs in our home. I was told by our dear friend Pater Michael Mary that it is a copy of a very old picture recovered from inside a chimney when the Sons of the Most Holy Redeemer were renovating a building. You can obtain a copy of this lovely devotional picture for yourself from the Papa Stronsay website (it's possibly the best £2 you will ever spend).

The prayer can be said as a one-off, as a novena (with the Our Father, Hail Mary & Glory Be appended to it) or (as we've done) as a rolling perpetual novena. However the prayer is said, Saint Joseph, the quiet man of the Gospels, is listening.

Prayer to Saint Joseph

O Saint Joseph, whose protection is so great, so strong, so prompt before the throne of God, I place in thee all my interests and desires. O Saint Joseph, assist me by thy powerful intercession and obtain for me all spiritual blessings through thy foster Son, Jesus Christ Our Lord, so that having engaged here below thy heavenly power I may offer thee my thanksgiving and homage.

O Saint Joseph, I never weary contemplating thee and Jesus asleep in thine arms. I dare not approach while He reposes near thy heart. Press him in my name and kiss His fine head for me, and ask Him to return the kiss when I draw my dying breath. 

Saint Joseph, Patron of departing souls, pray for us. 

Holy Saint Joseph, Ora Pro Nobis!

(Our Father, Hail Mary, Glory Be)

Identity politics

Four year old son was in a philosophical mood today.

"Mummy" he said, "do you know what I am?"

"Go on..."

"Well... I'm a talking human being... and a Catholic ... and an Englishman."

This was pronounced with a face beaming with certainty and pride. No confusion there then, Deo gratias! He can certainly talk for England anyway...

 

 

 

Surviving home education

“No school today for this lot?” The woman behind the counter peers curiously at my children. “Nope,” I sigh, “not today, not any day...” and taking my change I head out the door with my little brood behind me. I'm usually far more patient – honestly I am – but we are still 30 minutes from Seamus Heaney's grave in County Derry and have been driving for almost three hours in the rain. Today isn't the day to explain to every stranger perplexed by the sight of free range children during school hours how wonderful home education is: we're too busy living it.

Heaney's grave, Bellaghy, Co. Derry

At Heaney's grave, shared with his parents and brother Christopher, we read “Mid Term Break” (about his baby brother's death and funeral) and pray a Rosary in Latin for the repose of all their souls, ending with a sung Salve Regina. Heaney loved Latin: famously, his last words to his wife, by text message, were "Noli timere". Other visitors to the grave, local men who were Heaney's contemporaries, join in with our Rosary and thank us afterwards for praying., apparently very few people do. After signing the book of condolence in the church, St Mary's Bellaghy, we drive due North toward the coast, pausing briefly at Bushmills to consider the science of distillation, before arriving at the Giant's Causeway – a World Heritage Site and natural wonder of volcanic basalt eroded into astonishing hexagonal columns like a giant three dimensional honeycomb. In addition to the fascinating hands-on geology, we learn about the kelp industry, about Irish mythology and that you get more soaked standing on the Antrim coast in a blowing gale than you do by plunging into a swimming pool. Fish and chips a little further around the coast, then a long drive back in the dark, home to our holiday cottage. A good day.

Giant's Causeway, Co. Antrim

Not every home education day is an adventure. For each day like yesterday, there's one where my children drive each other (and me) crazy. Where the house is a mess, where someone has fed playdough to the cat; where the dog has chewed the eyepiece of one of the microscopes, and we can't find the answer key for the Latin workbook.

That's when the September not-back-to-school doubts start to creep in. Will my children suffer or benefit from the choices that we, their parents make? Will they end up illiterate / happy / unemployable / holy / overspecialised / expert / only fit for employment in a circus? Are we doing the right thing? Can any parent ever answer that question with 100% certitude?

Then the Angelus bell chimes. The rhythm of daily life masters us gently and our family prayer leads to calm and resolution as I hand my fears over to Sede sapientiae – Our Lady, Seat of Wisdom to whom we've consecrated our home education undertaking.

Nothing is perfect – no school, no home, no family. In choosing to home educate we do two things: the first is take full responsibility for our children's education, for better or for worse; and the second is to place our hopes and fears into Our Lady's hands. But really, no matter where or with whom their children spend their weekday hours, these are two things that every Catholic parent, as first and primary educator,should do. We are in the business of educating souls: Sede sapientiae, ora pro nobis!

A version of this piece first appeared in Catholic Family News

 

A nine year old's dilemma whilst discerning her vocation...

"Mummy, the problem with being a religious sister is... WHO catches the spiders?"

 

Indeed! I'm proud that my example has given her such a profound insight into the true meaning of Christian marriage: who catches the spiders when there's no husband around?

 

Happy St George's Day!

Our 2013 St George's Day dragon cake was only slightly scarier than the 2012 version ( note claws, improved teeth and extra scary flames in the latest release) but, filled with strawberry jam / blood and slain by fearless knights it was no less tasty.

We went to Mass this morning as usual instead of the evening Missa Cantata for the feast day which would hsve been our preference (you can see why: look what we missed!), but two of our children had won prizes in a poetry competition and the awards ceremony was tonight to coincide with World Book Day. Even so, we were glad to see St George's statue (above) in pride of place next to the Sanctuary this morning, and said the Prayer for England as a family with our night prayers.

O Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God and our most gentle Queen and Mother, look down in mercy upon England thy "Dowry" and upon us all who greatly hope and trust in thee. By thee it was that Jesus our Saviour and our hope was given unto the world; and He has given thee to us that we might hope still more. Plead for us thy children, whom thou didst receive and accept at the foot of the cross. O sorrowful Mother! intercede for our separated brethren, that with us in the one true fold they may be united to the supreme Shepherd, the Vicar of thy Son. Pray for us all, dear Mother, that by faith fruitful in good works we may all deserve to see and praise God, together with thee, in our heavenly home. Amen.

 

Resurrection play with paper puppets

The result of this afternoon's crafty fun: enjoy!

 

Heartwarming Catholic photo of the day...

My just-turned-four-year-old setting up his "altar" to "say Mass"

Regina Coeli on St Peter's - toddler style

Yes - he kept singing: even the rain didn't deter him.

While the world carried on as usual...

...here, in the orchard, blogging slowed to a halt. The last couple of months have been exceptionally busy, and the pressing responsibilities of being a mother, wife and home educator have had to supersede the desire to blog. My senior blogging colleague, Mistress Mulier of Fortis, consoles me that it "doesn't matter" ... But Oh!  it jolly well does! Blogging is a little bit of 'me' detached from daily life: the blog matters to me, even if only about 10 people read it (hello in Stony Plain, Alberta!) . Getting it all out into cyberspace also saves me from muttering about things beneath my breath and being mistaken for a nutjob ("Never" you gasp!). This blog is one mother's green-ink letter to the world. Even if it isn't written in green ink. And even if only 10 people read it. And I know 8 of them.

Highlights of the past few weeks include a family retreat (Saint Catherine's Trust / LMS) to the Reading Oratory, a short surprise trip to Rome spent almost entirely in Saint Peter's Basillica, DD1's First Holy Communion, a week up North visiting relatives with the obligatory trip to the Dome of Home thrown in, and, most recently, a five day migrane which is just beginning to wane.

I promise to try to do better. I have some lovely photos from San Pietro which I'll attempt to put up in the next week or so, but most pressing is to join the "I am Sparticus" brigade (or, more aptly, "I am Cranmer") and support His Grace vs the ASA. If we don't act now to support our right to express support for marriage as it has been understood since the dawn of time, we risk losing the right to express our views on many more controversial issues.

Are you offended? Then why are you still here reading this?