Our Policy on Mornings (and a contest)

Full disclosure: I don't think that I, Miss Marcel, am allergic to mornings. 
Okay, maybe just a little allergic.

In any case, we thought today was a good day to make our Policy on Mornings clear. Not that we've always had a fully formed and articulated policy. Usually these blog posts are inspirations of the moment, so our policy is formed as we type, but let's be honest, there's no policy worth its salt that isn't disclaimable. I'm thinking there is nothing more impressive (in a completely pathetic and hilarious, namby-pamby sort of way) than the disclaimers that come before a movie - at least the ones on DVDs with special features. And lest you think I'm putting the cart before the horse, I just saw one of those last night and the disclaimer came before the feature film, not even in striking distance of a "view," "opinion," or "comment." So let's see if we can dig up one of those disclaimers and apply it now to our situation, seeing as we're about to Policy. (I figure this is a shameless era, one in which any noun can be verbed at the drop of a hat, so why not?)

Here we go!

"The views and opinions expressed on this blog are those of the writers and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the entities they represent, and in ten minutes may not even reflect the views or positions of the writer."

I figure if Marcel and Therese want to disclaim me, they're welcome, but I'm not seeing a lot of other blogs for our little patron and patroness! Okay, maybe there are scads of blogs for Therese, but Marcel? I like to think we're on the cutting edge here. You know, like ice skating near the Zamboni . . . 

Charlie Brown once said, “There are three things in life that people like to stare at: a flowing stream, a crackling fire, and a Zamboni clearing the ice.” But for the life of me, I can't find out or remember what Peppermint Patty called the Zamboni (or was it Marcie)? Sheesh, this is a morning of failing memory - but that's almost my whole point here. Mornings! Our policy on mornings! Are you ready?

It long ago came to my attention - and unfortunately this I can't forget - that dear Monsignor Escriva (that's what we called him back in the day when he was merely a Servant of God like our Marcel) once defined (or perhaps frequently defined, but once was all I needed) The Heroic Moment as the moment when the alarm goes off and one gets out of bed instantly.

Hmmmm.
This is about up there with that other Opus Dei saying, "The state of your closets reflects the state of your soul."

In a word, my commentary:

Harsh!

Hence our need for a morning policy of our own. But this also brings in a Heroic Moment policy. Not to mention a closet policy.

Okay, then, let's do it!

Policy Statement:

1. Contrary to common misconceptions, the heroic moment predates any reference to alarm clocks. The heroic moment, properly defined, is when you want to smack someone, and you smile instead. If the smile reaches your eyes, you are ready for canonization. This is the only time a living person can be canonized, though don't quote me on that, I haven't checked the new Code of Canon Law. (And yes, we here at MMM still call it "new.")

2. If the state of your closets reflects the state of your soul, it is a reflection of your charity, and the messier the closets, the greater your charity. If said closets are a crammed mess, that means you love those you live with (and those who give you a warning before they visit, and even those who simply ring the bell or knock rather than just walking in) enough to throw everything in the closet. Hucking extraneous objects into the closet allows loved ones, and even random wandering Jehovah's Witnesses or Mormons, a path by which to reach a chair or sofa empty of debris and available for sitting and visiting. Good job, messy closet people!

2.b. This is as good a place as any to offer our Jehovah's Witness and Mormon policy: Keep them at your door, and by all means invite them in if you're able, so that they are subject to your charity rather than going to the next door neighbor's house to pick off poorly educated sheep for their straying flocks. You can practice your anecdotal powers on them ("Seeing you here reminds me of the time a salesman knocked on my door and tried to sell me cleaning polish. He took half the finish off my door knob!"), your joke telling skills ("Have you heard the one about the guy who walked into a bar . . .?"), or simply be kind ("How's your day? Are you thirsty? Can I give you something to drink?"). You might ask if you can pray the Our Father together and lead it yourself, or if they decline, you might ask them why they don't want to pray together. However much time you keep these well meaning but wrong headed proselytizers at your door, that's the same amount of time they can't be leading your neighbors into error. 

And finally, our official policy on morning (but don't hold us to it in case, per our disclaimer, we decide the commentaries, opinions, and views expressed here don't actually convey how we feel in ten minutes):

3. Waking up in the morning is a good thing . . . unless you can manage to sleep till the afternoon!

There's much more we could say about these policies. For instance, can a definition be a policy? Does the state of your closets have anything to do with the State you are currently residing in? Ought we to end sentences with prepositions? (See James Thurber, also cf. Winston Churchill on this one.) Is it better to get up in the morning or to invite all the kids into your bedroom for a family read-a-thon? We could go on, but it is actually morning while I write, and eggs are waiting. Which reminds me:

4. Whenever you do wake up, if this leads you out of bed and into the wider world, like the living room, do try to have some protein as soon as possible in order to alleviate the necessity of heroic moments, or at least to make them more likely than the smacking-people-when-you're-simply-hangry moments.

Again, I may have to step away from my own views, my policies even, because those eggs will have to wait while I tell you about that contest promised in the title of this post . . .

A new friend recently wrote to me through this blog - you too can do so by clicking on the Contact button, which allows you to send me an email and become a new friend just like that - and she needs a favor. She has a quote from Marcel's Conversations, and she wonders what the reference number is. Although we could give her the page number, I think the parenthetical number is better because then, no matter what edition one uses, the reference is standard and the passage will be at her (and our) fingertips. 

Unfortunately, when I said, just above, that "we could give her the page number," that was a somewhat hypothetical proposition, merely a pipe dream at present. To speak more exactly, I meant we could send it to her if we knew what it was, and that's where our contest comes in.

Not to speak badly about our friends, but St. Anthony and Marcel seem to have a deal, and it's not to my benefit, except perhaps in the long run. You see, whenever I want to find a particular passage in Marcel, they sit and giggle. Yes, you'd think giggling would be a little beneath a Doctor of the Church, but the problem is that it isn't beneath a Franciscan (why do you think St. Francis is so universally loved?), and St. Anthony was a Franciscan long before he was a Doctor of the Church. 

I don't want to appear to be criticizing St. Anthony. At least not more than he deserves for being a very teasing big brother, so let's sing his praises. He often finds lost things for us. And if you have the chance,  I even recommend naming all your children - maybe even your pets - after him, just to show him you acknowledge this great skill of his, and his extraordinary friendship. But even if God took away this particular skill from him (one tries not to think of Napoleon Dynamite, but ND's desire for skills does bring a smile to our faces), and gave it to, say, Marcel ("Dear Marcel, please come around, there's something lost that must be found!"), that would still leave St. Anthony the awesome title "Ark of the Testament" because he knew all Scripture by heart.

What I'm getting at here, besides buttering up St. Anthony and Jesus who gave him such wondrous gifts, is that I think he (St. Anthony, and probably little Jesus too) wants me to know Marcel by heart like St. Anthony knew the Scriptures, and so he doesn't miraculously give me the passages I want exactly when I want them. Like today when I want to find this passage to help our new friend, but since I haven't yet memorized Marcel, and since my friend is waiting, I need your help.

Yes, you! Do you have a copy of Conversations by your bedside or your uncluttered sofa? If it accidentally got tossed in the closet, please go dig it out, because not only does our friend need the citation soon, but (and here's what's in it for you) - whoever sends me the reference first (remember, you can simply click on the Contact button and write directly to me by email) WINS A PRIZE! 

I promise I won't pretend I found it directly, but I'll give credit to the finder and St. Anthony and Marcel!

And come to think of it, if more than one of you readers (and I have reason to believe there are at least a dozen of you out there) finds and sends me the reference, you will each get your very own prizes!

Here, then, is the passage whose missing citation we need to find. It is from Marcel's Conversations:

"Oh Jesus! You died through love, and now you are still greedy for sufferings in the heart of the one you love. I offer my heart to you without regret, to welcome with you dishonor and sadness, to fall with you on the way, to support the multitude of men and lift up the sinful soul, to atone for, with you, the sins which do not cease to accumulate each day. Yes, I wish to mingle a little of my blood with the blood of your divine Heart, for the purification of souls."

Perhaps the reason I haven't been able to find it is because it is a passage needed for someone else. Today, and just about every day of my life (already I want to change that to "absolutely every day of my life" so you see how necessary our seemingly ridiculous disclaimer is), I need not that passage but this passage:

"My dear little brother," (this is Jesus speaking to us in Conversations) "I am covering you unceasingly with kisses and I keep my lips forever pressed against your cheek." (198)

And you can bet that every single day my prayer is more like Marcel's when he tells Jesus (Who always wants us to tell Him everything) about all the things that irk him. Here's a good example, and it follows those words we just quoted about kisses. If you're following along in your copy of Convos, this is at (200):

Jesus: Now Marcel, do you want something? Do you want me to give you a kiss? I am going to give you one, all right? But Marcel, why are you sad? Tell me quickly so I can kiss you.

Marcel: Oh, I only feel a little fed up; and the reason is that, formerly, I had a comfortable bed while now I must lie on this poor bed that you see. It moves and cracks all the time, it's impossible to sleep. It's really detestable.

*   *   *

One of the gazillion things I love about Marcel is that when our little brother tells Jesus how he feels, we get such wonderful responses from our Divine Spouse. It doesn't matter what Marcel is complaining about (and he's often complaining about something), it's all just another opportunity for Jesus to patiently explain and help Marcel (and us) unite ourselves to Him. Which is exactly what the original prayer we're looking for expressed, namely a desire for this union, except I prefer asking for Jesus' kisses rather than "dishonor and sadness," and I know He wants us to tell Him the truth, not what we think He wants to hear . . .So complainers unite!

Ah, little Marcel, you are marvelous! We catch you offering Jesus so much, just like we sometimes do, and yet how quickly we forget what we've offered! Once upon a time, I have a feeling I recklessly offered to suffer for Jesus, although when He took me at my word, then I was in trouble. Kisses, Jesus, give us kisses! And not the Mother Teresa kind that are a code word for suffering, but the Marcel and Therese kind that are just simply kisses!

I'm fine with these kisses taking the form of words, even if the words explain suffering in a way I can understand. Like in the passage we're looking at now, where Marcel complains about his bed in answer to Jesus' question. (This might be a great way to start our prayer when we don't know how to pray, which is, for me, just about every day. We can imagine Jesus asking, "What's wrong?" and let our complaints roll out! But then let's remember to be quiet so Jesus can get a word in edgewise!)

We've been talking about mornings and sleep, and heroic moments, and then here's Marcel joining in, bringing up beds in the random passage I selected (the one I opened to in Conversations when I'd rather have opened to the prayer whose citation we need). Reading on, I love Jesus' response, and I love too that every time He speaks, He teaches us. But then He is the Word, so I'm not really surprised, just delighted.

On the 28th of December, 1945, in Conversations (201) to (202), after Marcel complains about his bed, Jesus replies:

"Ah! So that's the reason. But Marcel, so you've forgotten? Listen, I am going to refresh your memory. If you accept cheerfully this uncomfortable bed, you will be able to practice in one fell swoop three virtues . . . And what did your sister Therese teach you? When one is poor does one complain at having an uncomfortable bed? However Marcel, I do not wish to scold you; I simply want to teach you a lesson. Be happy to sleep in this uncomfortable bed. I will so arrange things that it will cause you less discomfort. Remember the three virtues that you must practice: obedience, self-denial, and poverty . . . In the past, precisely at this time of year, I also had to lie on the straw of little lambs. It felt very bad: there was a little straw and the straw also was damp, so much that I felt very uncomfortable. If, then, I had complained to the Blessed Virgin, nowhere could she have found me a more comfortable bed . . . now, my little friend you also must do the same. It is because Father Master has not been able to find a better bed that he has had to resign himself to giving you this one. However, Marcel, believe that you are much luckier than I because you have a mosquito net and woolen covers. Spoilt as you are, what reason would you have to complain? Offer me all of that and I will give you kisses! . . . 

"Marcel, it is necessary for you to realize that you haven't yet the least virtue. If, in these circumstances, I had not spoken to you, I do not know when you would have stopped having red eyes.

"Little Marcel, you have not the slightest virtue. And, to speak frankly, in your case there is nothing: one finds there nothing of beauty. But do not be sad because of it. Do you understand? Look at the flower which is your sister Therese; she recognized that she possessed nothing but in reality she possessed everything because, in possessing nothing, she obtained everything . . . Do not be discouraged, Marcel, all you will ask for, all you will wish for, I will grant to you. Do you now wish that I give you some kisses? How many do you want? But it is first necessary that you tell me: 'Dear Jesus, I love you.' Without that who would wish to kiss you? When you have said: 'Jesus, I love you,' I will give you as many as you wish for." 

*   *   *

Ah, Jesus!

We are so little, so weak, and yet you told us already through Therese that it is our weakness You love. And it is our loving our weakness that You love too! How could You stoop down so low if we were not so little? What glorious poverty is ours, and we want to run away from it, we want to be rich, and yet You came to live in our poverty so that we wouldn't be alone. Thank You for every imperfection this material world has to offer, and thank You for our minding it. Thank You that we are little princes and princesses who feel the pea under the 100 soft mattresses! Thank You for showing us through Marcel that Therese's message is for us, the very littlest ones, the pathetic first world complainers who are about to discover that our eggs (how lucky that we have eggs! And places to cook them!) are cold!

I haven't yet mentioned what the prize is for those of you who send me the citation in our contest. How about three thing, in honor of the Adorable Trinity?
The winners will receive:

A book, a treat (to eat while reading), and one of my favorite tea bags (unused and individually wrapped!)

Meanwhile, if your eggs have gotten cold, pierce the yolk with a fork before you microwave, and you will have less to complain about.

I do have one other favor to ask. A dear friend is in a rough spot. Her son, who has suffered a terrible illness in the past, is having a relapse. This brings on, as you can imagine, suffering for the whole family, and especially for my friend who fears the return of this mysterious illness. They have spectacular doctors and a whole treatment protocol, but what they need more than anything is another miracle. Do you have a favorite wonder-working saint? Please call on him or her for my dear friend and her son - we'll call him Bosco, the name of another dear friend and saint (and the name of a stuffed animal pup I once gave him) . . .

Dear Jesus, through all the love You bear Your saints and by all their intercessory power over Your Sacred Heart burning with love for us too, heal Bosco, our friend who is again suffering, and heal his dear Mama who is so scared. Please heal them both for good, and for all the good they want to do for you. We ask this in Your sweet name, Amen.

​Draw me, we will run!