Prayer for Me


Truth is I need to pray to a Mother God sometimes… not a Father God.  One who’ll understand without more explanation than I have the oomph to give.  Which is really odd, in my case, as my Mother never understood and my father always did, but still the mythos of being gently Mothered must live in my longings… or maybe it’s because the cranky, stern, male God of my childhood Catholicism, bears no relation to my gentle, kindly father, so I don’t connect the two. Continue reading “Prayer for Me” »

Posted on March 25th 2011 in Religion, The Philosopher’s Teacup

Chatting with Heaven

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I grew up talking to God… an Irish thing to do.  Walking down the street saying, Hi God, it’s me Cathy, how are You today?  That’s a great tree You made.  Thanks for the sunrise.  Please help me with my math test.  Please make it easier for my mother to breathe.  That kind of conversation.  I didn’t want Him to think I was a fair-weather friend, who’d only call on Him in times of need.  So I talked, and I knew He listened.  If I prayed, He always answered.  Sometimes He said no. Continue reading “Chatting with Heaven” »

Posted on March 25th 2011 in The Philosopher’s Teacup

Irish Childhoods are Different

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My mother could foretell death.  She’d inherited the family banshee, the Irish harbinger who shrieks her fatal message to one member of each generation to let them know that someone is about to die.  “What a pity about John,” she might say, “he’ll be gone by June 15th,” and close family members knew enough not to make plans with John for the 4th of July. Continue reading “Irish Childhoods are Different” »

Posted on March 11th 2011 in Family, The Philosopher’s Teacup
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