"Come to the edge."
"We can't. We're afraid."
"Come to the edge."
"We can't. We will fall!"
"Come to the edge."
And they came.
And he pushed them.
And they flew.
Guillaume Apollinaire

"Saints are sinners who kept going."
Robert Louis Stevenson

SPOILERS AHEAD IN WHITE; IF YOU HAVE READ THE DA VINCI CODE, FEEL FREE TO HIGHLIGHT OVER AND READ; IF YOU HAVE NOT READ AND THINK YOU MIGHT, DON'T.

Oh dear! Well, if that wasn't 450 pages of trash! Humph! I mean really! Jesus married! And had children no less!

Really now. What a bunch of anti-Catholic propaganda. Smearing the poor, pious and innocent Opus Dei, who have never hurt anyone. (Well, except themselves with the self-flagellation and all. But that's beside the point!) Purporting that the Catholic church killed millions of pagans and that Jesus is divine by a vote! (That can't be true, can--) Ah, well, I never! Faith, my love, faith, not conspiracy should be Jesus' legend, not this "Holy Grail" stuff. People are going to be going around now with an even worse opinion of the church--based on one man's attempt at entertainment--and the sheep Americans will not know the difference! I am horrified that this is a best seller!
Sister Mary Karen

Sister, sadly, people need only read the news--not fiction--to be developing a worse opinion of the Church. Forget conspiracy theories about what happened 1,000 years ago. Look at what's happened in the last 10.

And what's wrong with some entertainment? It is clearly marked fiction, you know.

And I loved it. Couldn't put it down. Great fun.

Me. August 14, 2003.

"I want to sing like the birds sing not worrying about who hears or what they think."
Rumi, Sufi poet

Aherm ... 'When she carried on her harlotry so openly and flaunted her nakedness, I turned in disgust from her, as I had turned from her sister. Yet she increased her harlotry, remembering the days of her youth, when she played the harlot in the land of Egypt and doted upon her paramours there, whose members were like those of asses, and whose issue was like that of horses. Thus you longed for the lewdness of your youth, when the Egyptians handled your bosom and pressed your young breasts'† ...
Sister Mary Karen

What are you doing?
Karen

Ah! Nothing! I mean, nothing. Just, you know, spending some time with the Good Book.
Sister Mary Karen

Dirty.

"To admit you were wrong is to declare you are wiser now than before."
Unknown

"Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be."
Clementine Paddleford

Let us pray.
Sister Mary Karen

Okay.
Karen

Dear Lord in heaven—
Sister Mary Karen

Dear ... world ...
Karen

Sometimes it becomes far too easy to be overcome with negative emotions and situations. Crummy jobs, miniscule bank accounts, family problems, disputes with friends. We hurt one another out of self-preservation and interest, letting feelings of anger, resentment, frustration, pain, bewilderment and loneliness guide our thoughts and deeds.

Pray that we never again lose sight of the love we have for one another. Its power is awesome, and true love can conquer the negativity if we give in to it with our whole hearts. Love is unknowable, immeasurable and invaluable. Bless us and keep us in that love, make it the guiding force in our lives forever and ever. Amen.
Sister Mary Karen

Amen.

"As soon as you get some sense of contact, you want to be teachers of others. This is a big mistake."
Ta-sui, Zen master (b. 834 - d. 919)

In my family, going on vacation did not also mean a vacation from church.

'Catholic' means 'universal,' and boy is it. No vacation destination—or developing nation—is safe from the Roman Catholic Church.

Ireland, church. The Grand Canyon, church. Hawaii, church.

It always put my brother and I in a foul mood to have to ditch swimsuits to put on 'something nice' come Sunday mornings.

Florida, church. Colorado, church. England, church.

Mexico, church.

'En el nombre del Padre, y del Hijo y del Espíritu Santo ...'

Before we headed to dinner on a starry Saturday night, we went to church.

I had only taken through high school Spanish II, but having heard this mass about 1,000 times in my life so far, I was able to follow along very well. Universal.

In the middle of the mass, there was some commotion toward the back of the open-air whitewashed church. We turned around to see a beautiful Mexican woman in a white dress being escorted down the aisle by an older man. Several other women, carrying flowers, followed her. Looking back to the altar, a handsome black-haired brown-skinned man in a black suit waited for her.

'Recibe usted a esta mujer para ser su esposa ...'

Our khaki pants and sunburns felt very out of place, but we smiled and brightened to be a part of this special day.

The priest blessed and married the couple, and the congregation cheered.

The rest of the mass continued as normal. Stand, kneel, stand, kneel.

My family went to dinner after. The entire table slammed tequila shots—even Grandma—tossing them down our throats, immediately followed by a bop on the head with a plastic bottle wielded by a sombrero-sporting waiter, who then shook our heads around until we couldn't stop laughing.

In my opinion, that part of the evening was the more religious experience.

Even still, no other vacation church attendance ever matched that Saturday night in Mexico.

I got a new couch.

After sunning in the back 'courtyard' of my building (if 'courtyard' can mean a cement walkway with some landscaping), I walked in through the basement, where all the garbage lives. Squishing by black bags of putrescence and flies, I made it to the hallway, and headed for the elevator.

I couldn't ignore it. This can't be trash ... can it?

A leather couch. A black leather couch. I've never owned a leather couch before.

Is it really trash?

I rushed upstairs and quick-consulted a friend for a second opinion, someone who also lives in a large New York apartment building. He concurred; anything in the basement surrounded by other trash, ipso facto, is trash.

Whee!

I rushed back down, knowing that someone else who saw it may draw the same conclusion. How I thought I was going to manage it getting upstairs on my own, I did not know. But I called dibs, and I had to have it.

I lucked out, and one of the superintendent's helpers was in the basement when I went back down.

'Is this trash?'
'...'
'Trash? Is this trash?'
'...'
'Basura?'
'Ah, si si.'
'Would you mind helping me take it upstairs?'
'...'
'Ayudame, por favor?'
'Si si.'

Funny thing is, I've had this couch for a little while now. A few weeks. Since then, I've almost never really sat in it. I've spent a lot more time reading in bed than watching my favorite nature TV shows or my Netflix DVDs. Puzzling.

But I do love my leather couch.
Karen

Forgive her sins, O Lord; forgive her the sins of her youth and the sins of her age. She has stolen her neighbor's couch, and the guilt is haunting the poor child. Forgive her, O Lord, forgive her all of Thy great goodness. Amen.
Sister Mary Karen

Shut up.