Dear TIA,

Greetings and blessings to you on this Mother's Day weekend. Once again, may I thank you for the many wonderful and inspiring articles on your site! As someone who spent 30 years away from Holy Mother Church and was graciously received back into her warm embrace, I am gaining much valuable education from TIA. I am only beginning to realize the enormity of the riches of my Father's house, from which I had been a prodigal for so long.

I especially appreciated your article, The Home or Career Dilemma for a Mother. Thank you for unearthing those precious words from the popes of the last century concerning this subject. This is a favorite subject for me, and one I write about extensively on my little blog. I have not only been missing my own mother a lot lately, but am continually pained by the loss of the sanctity of the home, where mothers reigned as true home guardians. This is now all but lost to us in our sad, modern day.

Having recently visited my hometown and taken in the sights of the old, now changed neighborhoods, I found I needed to write a poem. Here it is, with my hope and prayer that mothers (and fathers) will once again "turn their hearts towards home". May God bless all mothers and keep them under the mantle of Our Lady.

For Mothers Gone and Mothers Now This street had seen its time of glory I mused that night at summer's end But left off thoughts of former history As lightning now the sky did rend Hastening towards my car parked yonder The tenor of the air now changed Came the flood as I ran weeping Tears confounded in the rain There were letters in the lightning Missives racing down the street Quickened words, electric hissing Urging me this very night Remember those who were, but now Are gone, forgotten in the gloam Who did in-dwell these ancient houses Where love and faith once made their home. Now on wind-swept porch lies only Unclaimed news and broken chair Once sat Mama singing sweetly While she combed out sister's hair In the yard now brambled, trampled Once grew pretty roses fair Hollyhocks and yellow daisies Grown with tender loving-care By the matron queen who nurtured Each bud, and each rose-cheeked babe But hands that soothed the brow of husband Now rest, silent in the grave. What justice or what mercy Forbids not time to wash away The careful mending, white curtains lacy But lets her deeds all meet decay? Why no lingering fragrance Of soups and stews and baking bread? No candle beckons weary family For most of those she loved are dead Men's work of old still speaks of them In mortar, bricks, and written word No praise she sought to sew a hem To build up lives she much preferred. Still stand houses, pavement stays Coarse strangers there, with strangers' ways. Weep not her place knows her no more; Her love paved steps to heaven's door. For love lives on, in heaven stays Safe from storm, and ravaged age. Good is not wasted, nor she who prays. Her virtue gained a golden wage. She taught souls, we take up the work Of nurture, of home, and the regular folk May her mansion above have a front-porch swing Where I'll know I am home when I hear Mama sing.      Gail Aggen

In order never to be guilty of any unedifying act, the priest must regulate his actions, his movements and his habits in harmony with the sublimity of his vocation. He who on the altar almost ceases to be mortal and takes on a divine form, remains always the same, even when he comes down from the holy hill and leaves the temple of the Lord.

Wherever he is, wherever he goes, he never ceases to be a priest, and the serious reasons that compel him always to be grave and appropriate accompany him with his dignity everywhere. Hence he must have that gravity that will ensure that his words, his bearing, and his way of working arouse love, win authority and excite reverence.

For, the very reasons that oblige him to be holy make it a duty for him to show it by his outward acts in order to edify all those with whom he is obliged to come into contact.

A composed and dignified exterior is a powerful eloquence which wins souls in a much more efficacious manner than persuasive sermons. Nothing inspires greater confidence than an ecclesiastic who, never forgetting the dignity of his state, demonstrates in every situation that gravity which attracts and wins universal homage."

If, on the contrary, he forgets the holiness of the sacred character which he bears indelibly impressed and engraved on his soul, and if he fails to show in his outward conduct a gravity superior to that of certain men of the world, then he causes his ministry and religion itself to be despised. For when gravity is wanting in its leaders, the people lose respect and veneration for them. (1)

1. Recipe for Holiness: St. Pius X and the Priest, (Lumen Christi Press, Houston: 1970), 'Dignity and Propriety,' pp. 81-2.)

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