A Taste of Heaven: Part I

In case you didn't already know, I have an on-going love affair with Renaissance Polyphony. I remember the first time I truly discovered it, during Christmas break right after my first semester at Ave Maria University. I had heard the Chamber Choir at school sing a few lovely Renaissance pieces - that was what sparked my interest in the first place - and so I decided to go online and find some more of that hauntingly beautiful music. I ended up at a place called "Choral Treasure," which, sadly, no longer exists.

Within five minutes, I was completely and utterly entranced. I could hardly believe that such beautiful music existed on earth. I lay on my bed for hours that day, doing nothing but soaking up the music. I waylaid every person that came to my door, sitting them down on a chair in my room to partake of the musical experience, and intently searched their faces for any sign of the earth-shattering revelation I felt myself to be experiencing.

My family probably found my behavior slightly creepy. And I never did see in their faces what I wanted to see.

However, I was a changed woman. I had a new love. When I went back to school that Spring, and in the years that followed, I was blessed to be able to learn more and more about this beautiful, spiritual art form. The time came when I successfully auditioned for the Chamber Choir, and was able to participate in making this music myself. I cannot stress, simply cannot express how deeply I cherished every moment of music-making at Ave Maria, especially when we sang Renaissance Polyphony. I was delighted to learn in my studies that this was the traditional music of the Church!

Women's Schola and Chamber Choir became my favorite places to be. Whenever we sang for a High Mass I felt transported beyond myself, into the heart of God, supernaturally joined to the Church Militant, Triumphant, and Suffering, to all the ages and all the peoples of all the world, worshiping in spirit and in truth. My love of this music was what led me to love the Traditional Latin Rite. Truly, nothing can compare to the experience of a High Mass.

Two summers ago I was privileged to attend a High Mass at St. Francis de Sales Oratory in St. Louis, MO.  I will never forget that experience - ever ever EVER. At Ave Maria University, where I had gained most of my TLM experience, the priests and congregation were still "new" to that Rite and were still working out the kinks. At St. Francis de Sales, the priests and congregation have been doing it for years. Words cannot describe the beauty of my experience at St. Francis de Sales. The music was just what it ought to have been - it was the ideal. It did not seem to be a separate entity, but perfectly grafted to the Mass, stemming from it, moving it forward, making it breathe. Not once did it distract me from prayer, but instead worked to raise my soul, higher and higher to the summit of prayer, and slowly to set it back down again on earth at the end of the Mass. (I did not feel jolted or distracted by the music as I often do at the English Mass, which, sadly, does not feel as organic as the TLM. )* The organist must have been a truly inspired, divinely gifted individual. The organ's presence was continual throughout the liturgy, but never obtrusive. At every moment, it was just right. Triumphal, uplifting, meditative, mysterious, or tender in turns, the music of the organ added a distinctive beauty to the Mass the equal of which I have not encountered since.

Occasionally the organ music was punctuated by a beautifully trained choir, singing Chant or Polyphony, as was appropriate. I am jealous of that choir. The friend in St. Louis with whom I was staying was a member of that choir, and they are all volunteers. Volunteers who sing so well! Who can read music and understand how to sing polyphony! What a privilege! For weeks afterward I seriously contemplated relocating to St. Louis, just so that I could join that choir and attend that Mass every week.

I want to go on raving about it, but perhaps I have said all that my own words can express. If you ever have an opportunity to be in St. Louis, MO of a Sunday morning, consider attending Mass at St. Francis de Sales Oratory, and you can see for yourself.

* I am in no way condemning the English Mass. It is the Mass I primarily attend with my family, and it can be an extremely prayerful experience depending upon the individual's disposition. My personal preference, however, is for the Traditional Latin Mass. My prayer is that it will one day be more available to all Catholics, so that everyone might have the opportunity to experience this treasure if they so desire.

Survivor Girl

You will all be glad to know that I survived the last two days of house/pet-sitting. Those last two days were accomplished behind *truly* locked doors and with marginally*  improved slumber. Rarely have I been more relieved to have done with something. The most extraordinary happenstance during those last two days of terror was my locking the cats out of the bedroom, furniture and expensive vases be-damned. Oh, the lengths one will go to when laboring under the primitive need for sleep! Besides, my full-time employers were beginning to wonder why they were paying a zombie to watch their child for ten hours a day, and my body was sending me hate mail under the guise of narcoleptic shut-downs.

* Think: Multiple sessions of two-hour sleep increments, instead of just a single one!

Last night was the first night back in my own bed, and oh - what bliss! I passed out cold and awoke this morning much refreshed (though a few more nights of quality sleep will be necessary to blot out the painful remembrances of yore.) It will be a long time before I accept any more house sitting jobs.*

*As I unequivocally declare this, it occurs to me that Providence is most likely laughing and handing out my number to every house-sitter-needing-home-owner within a 50-mile radius. Haha, funny.

~*~*~*~*~

In other news, WE HAVE A NEW POPE, PEOPLE!!! His Holiness Pope Francis (formerly Cardinal Jorge Bergolio) seems to have been a surprise choice to those who were keeping score before the conclave; then again I never will understand how people can have specific expectations about the outcome of this Spirit-led process - as if we could predict such things! Did you notice how it just drove the media stark raving crazy? - Emphasis on the raving. I had to forsake both MSNBC and CNN for their poor - deliberately poor - choice of commentators and interviewees. So pouty, media! Grow up. I finally settled upon EWTN (a vast improvement, albeit still lacking IMHO). But no one is perfect. This was the first time I have seen the white smoke live, as well as received the Papal blessing live. Such a beautiful experience!

I pray to God to bless our new Pope Francis, per his humble request. Thy will be completely and beautifully accomplished in him and in us, Father!

Bob

This is Bob.

Hi Bob.

These are the remains of the vase Bob broke.

RIP vase.

Below is the poem I wrote to explain the tragedy of the broken blue vase.

~*~*~*~*~

The Demise of the Blue Vase

or

It's All Bob's Fault

'Twas late upon the hour, a cool and dark spring night

When the Sitter and her sisters, alarmed, jumped up in fright!

A "CRASH!" resounded through the house, so loud and so suspicious

That they thought, "Intruders! Interlopers! Or possibly the dishes!"

A-thundering down the stairs they came, and saw Bob in disgrace - 

Upon the mantle he had jumped, and there upset the vase!

"Rapscallion! What a mess!" They cried, and Bob looked up, abashed.

As they searched for a vacuum, he opportunely dashed.

The vase was such a beauty, suffering such a tragic end,

And therefore our condolences we most sincerely send.

The end.

~*~*~*~*~

(If I were them, I would forgive me.)

~*~*~*~*~

Update: Mrs. Employer texted me yesterday: "BTW, I loved the poem!" Phew.

Misadventures in "Sitting"

Man oh man. A combination of daylight savings time, lack of proper sleep for the past three nights, and overall stress have resulted in a somewhat-depressed-me today. If I sat down and really tried, I'm sure I could eek out a few honest tears.

As most of you know, I am a nanny. It's how I pay the bills. This is not an unprecedented choice of vocation, as the majority of my past jobs have revolved around childcare. In fact, I have had a virtually uninterrupted stream of babysitting jobs since I was 10 years old, so becoming a glorified babysitter - the fabled Nanny - seemed a logical choice. On the side, I do more babysitting. And house-cleaning, and pet-sitting. (Gotta pay off those student loans somehow yo.)  Another type of sitting job that recently fell into my lap is new to me: house/pet-sitting. Sleep in house, take care of pets. Pretty straightforward, no? A piece of cake for an old hand like me, used to the much more demanding scenario of screaming children and domestic chaos, yes?

Um, no. Hereafter follows:

The Tail* of How House/Pet-Sitting is Actually Not Easier Than Babysitting, 

and Is Also Much, Much Scarier

*(yes, yes, I did make a pun).

For the past three days I have been house/pet-sitting for a family that lives about five minutes south of my own house. Initially, I thought this would be a great job. Their house is spectacularly beautiful and modern, having just been built last year and furnished with all the most luxurious amenities. It is situated in a beautiful stand of wilderness, located a respectable ways off the main road. It is light and airy and open - a lovely atmosphere -- until it gets dark. And then it actually becomes terrifying.

For one thing, as previously mentioned, it is a respectable ways off the main road: lonely, quiet, secluded. No one can hear me scream. For another thing, as previously mentioned, it is light, airy, and open - thus dark, cold, and cavernous when the sun sets. The owners for some reason (perhaps intentionally?) have not put curtains or even blinds on ANY of the huge, numerous, panoramic windows and doors that line the house - not even the ones in the master bedroom! What is light, airy, and pleasant during the daylight becomes creepy, unsettling, and exposed at night. (What if someone or something is watching me through those transparent windows at night?! I have no way to protect or shield myself, unless I hang up all the sheets and blankets. At this point it seems a tempting plan.)

This is where the alarm system is supposed to swoop in and reassure me, but it's actually very, very cold comfort, as alarms systems do and always have made me incredibly nervous and jumpy. I don't know why. Repressed childhood experience, perhaps? I am always worried that I will set them off through ignorance or forgetfulness, and then be paralyzed by the resulting fear and noise.

So, for those reasons, my stress-level starts rising as soon as the sun sets, and skyrockets until bed time, when a whole new set of problems emerges. For one thing, I have rarely ever in my past experience stayed the night in a big house all alone. Of course, there have been times when my family has been gone on a trip or something and I've slept at home alone, but our house is:

1) Familiar - I can identify any night noises. (That is, when noises actually manage to sneak through the reassuring background noise of the air-purifier in my room.)

2) Blessed - within an inch of its life by multiple priests on various occasions so that no demon or evil thing dares come near that sacred territory. KiYAH!

3) Pet-free - My mother would have the heart attack of all heart attacks if we ever even dared suggest allowing non-human creatures in the Blessed and Sacred Territory known as HER HOUSE.

But in this house...

1) It is so quiet at night because everything is so modern and new and noiseless. Even small sounds, like a faucet dripping, are loud. The sound of the ice-maker in the fridge is like a freaking earthquake apocalypse and the first few times it dumped ice into the receptacle, it sent me shooting bolt-upright in bed, shaking. I turned on the ceiling fan in an attempt to produce some sort of baseline noise, but wouldn't you know, it's so new it just turns silently while I freeze my tooshie. Thus, I notice every little sound, worry about what it is, and find it almost impossible to sleep.

2) Another facet of the night-noises issue is the pets. Since there are three of them in this house (1 dog, 2 cats) there are a lot of live things that go "bump" (and sometimes "YOWL" and "CRASH") in the white-noiseless night. Not only do the pets produce a thousand alarming sounds, but those two, young rapscallions of cats are bound and determined that MY face is the properest and most interesting place to sleep. Multiple times a night they jump up, "THUNK," on the bed, and sinuously approach, all the while attempting to lull me with amorous, deep purring. Then they WALK on my FACE. And try to sit on it. Oh my heck, kitty. No. NO!

 Last night, during Bob's tenth OPERATION: SIT ON HER FACE attempt, I banished him and shut the door to the room. His piteous mewing and the subsequent cessation of all sound worked to increase my anxiety even further. (The cats have a demonstrable tendency to get into mischief when they feel neglected, and have already broken one extremely expensive-looking vase on my watch. In revenge for me locking them out of the bathroom, they also knocked over my glass of water on the bedside table, soaking various items left there by my employers.)

3) Top this all off with an irrational fear of intruders who might set off the alarm, and you have a well-rounded though not exhaustive list of my house/pet-sitting woes.

 I have gotten no more than two hours of sleep at a time for the last three endless nights.

I am so tired. 

And then this morning happened.

Before I left the house at 6:30 am to go to work, I let out all three pets as my employers requested. I strewed the entire house with blessed salt (which my employers have no idea about, but it definitely won't hurt them!), set the alarm, and headed off into the cold, dark morning. If you ask me, daylight savings time was a dastardly, dastardly invention.

Well. At 9:15 am I received a call from the harried house owners on vacation in Colorado. The alarm had somehow been set off, and cops and in-laws were swarming the house, attempting to set things aright. Had I not let out the dog before I left? Because they could see her inside through the windows (those oh-so naked windows), and she simply could not be allowed to stay inside for the whole day....

 I verified that, indeed, I had let out all three animals that morning, I was sure of it. After half an hour of flurried phone-calls and text-messages back and forth, the whole story came to light. The dog, Aretha (named after Aretha Franklin!) had let herself into the house by the unlocked master-bedroom door and tripped the alarm.

First of all. UNLOCKED?!?! ...and... how the heck does a dog let itself inside via a human door? So many questions!!?!!

In retrospect, it may have been helpful for the house owners to let me know that 1) there is a special, extraordinary way to make the house doors *truly* lock, and 2) the dog knows how to let itself in. Hellooooo! This is terrifying news! For the past three days I have been living in a not-*truly*-locked transparent house, secluded from civilization with pets who clearly know more than I do about getting in and out of that place. So. Scary.

I really do not want to go back there to sleep for two more nights, but the bullet has to be bit. And I've already deposited the check.