Just an idea . . .

Thinking today is a good day for an experiment. Why don't we try St. John Bosco's suggestion and then see what happens? But strap in first - the management here can't be responsible for any accidents caused by the sudden WHOOSH of miracles if you're driving while entrusting . . . 

Meanwhile this news just in: We got it right! Aunt Joan's signature scent was (and now it is Miss Marcel's, officially):  Clinique's Aromatics!

And our signature prayer? It hasn't changed . . .

Which means I have a plan. I'm going to say our prayer, try this entrustment thing, and then celebrate by applying some earthly fragrance that smells just heavenly (like Aunt Joan)! This is a to-do list even I might be able to manage . . .

1. Signature prayer.
2. Complete surrender.
3. Signature scent. 

I'm looking forward to the miracles St. John Bosco promises. Join me, won't you? Well, at least for 1. and 2 . . . Signature scents are kind of personal, and how do I know what your Aunt Joan smells like? If you can't get to a major department store (where between the Chanel lady, the Clinique lady, and a decade or so of attempts, I finally cracked the code about 6 weeks ago), I recommend asking one of your Aunt Joan's sons. If they don't know straight off (and they most likely won't, being men), they can ask her! Thanks, Mark!

And now, nothin' to it but to do it:

1.  Draw me, we will run!

2. Dear Jesus in the tabernacle, please accept everything we are and have. We give ourselves to you, and all those we love, with our pasts, our presents, and our futures, our thoughts, feelings, joys, sufferings, actions and works, disappointments and dreams. Mother Mary, Help of Christians, we give ourselves to you too. Be a true mother to us - counsel us, guide us, hold us close in your arms (and all those we love too) until we get to Heaven where we can rest in God forever with you! And please kiss little Jesus for us right now, and tell Him we love Him a lot!

There, that wasn't so hard, was it? And I wish you the same ease in finding that elusive fragrance. But now I must go, so I can put some of mine on and smell like a million bucks! Or at least like Aunt Joan . . .