Epiphany

 

What a beautiful Epiphany morning, crisp and clear with the sun rising over the common behind the Compound. I say "common" but I don't think any of us have grazing rights on this bit of vacant land owned by the Civic Power. Regardless, I wasn't there to recce out a site for a new parade square or even admire the scenery, no, I was there to work.

Don't laugh, I was, and spent the morning hanging drywall for a new Habitat For Humanity house.  What a good cause and led, in this instance, by a neat guy who got me into the swing of things. He's retired now and spends his time putting up these houses for the good of the community, but had been a soldier for 20 years.

A Mexican immigrant, he joined up in 1969 and fought in Vietnam where he was wounded, "What's that, 49 inches? Sometimes my memory's not so good, I stepped on a mine." Mines aside, D stayed in and retired in 1989 as, I think, a  Command Sergeant Major with III Corps. "Phantom Warriors," I offered, resisting the urge to ask how an armored corps could somehow classify as "phantom." He grinned, impact wrench in hand, "That's right, III Corps."

What a good guy and he liked the fact that my eldest, the erstwhile and maybe future cadet, was stationed at Fort Hood, "It'll always be Fort Hood, man. Have you been down Tank Destroyer Boulevard?" I replied that I had. "There's a lot of power there," he said in a quiet tone and I agreed that there was.

Ahem, Civic Power, Roads

Then we were finished for the day and I tell you, I really enjoyed the work, the company and the chance to put faith into practice. All you biblical scholars out there will recall Christ was rather insistent on people helping out those less fortunate than ourselves. That in mind, I'll be back on the project, big fun to boot.

An Epiphany? Yes indeed, on several levels. Not least, tear yourself away from the appalling news cycle and do something good and constructive. Exercise your faith, put "tract into act" and all of that, and who knows who you'll meet along the way. But I won't preach.

Cheers,

LSP

Almost Christmas

 

The great Feast of the Nativity is almost upon us and lights went on at the Compound after a traditional trip to Walmart for last minute Christmas essentials. 

Now look here, punters, some traditions are good and we love them, they add depth, meaning and continuity to our fleeting lives. But other traditions are bad, like going to Walmart right before Christmas.

I tell you, and I'm no snob, don't laugh, it's true, that it was rough in there tonight and this is a country Walmart. Parse that as you will, while recalling that the rule of law is comparatively new here.

Speaking of which, could someone please make a law banning people from wearing pajamas in public, at the supermarket? But I won't neck-tattoo-bang-on, you get the picture. That in mind, let's recall the opening words of the governing Prayer (Collect) for what's left of this season.

Cast away the works of darkness and put upon us the armour of light. Needed, eh?

Stand Fast Against Leviathan,

LSP

A Short Advent Reflection

 

What a beautiful drive to Mission #2 for evening Mass as the sun tried to break through the clouds. "This," I thought gravely to myself, "is Texas." Mind like a steel trap, you see, but en lieu of anything beyond bears, climate change and impending civil war, here's Austin Farrer on the season, behold wisdom:

OUR journey sets out from God in our creation, and returns to God at the final judgement.  As the bird rises from the earth to fly, and must some time return to the earth from which it rose; so God sends us forth to fly, and we must fall back into the hands of God at last.  But God does not wait for the  failure and the expiry of our days to drop us back into his lap.  He goes himself to meet us and everywhere confronts us.  Where is the countenance which we must finally look in the eyes, and not be able to turn away our head?  It smiles up at Mary from the cradle, it calls Peter from the nets, it looks on him with grief when he has denied his master.  Our judge meets us at every step of our way, with forgiveness on his lips and succour in his hands.  He offers us these things while there is yet time.  Every day opportunity shortens, our scope for learning our Redeemer’s love is narrowed by twenty-four hours, and we come nearer to the end of our journey, when we shall fall into the hands of the living God, and touch the heart of the devouring fire.

 

Touch the heart of the devouring fire. I love that.

Pax,

LSP

IT RAINED

 

We certainly live in an age of miracle and wonder, it rained yesterday evening. One minute a blazing hot sun in a clear blue sky and the next, dark clouds rolling in from the West. There they were, overhead, above the Compound, but would it actually rain or was this some kind of cruel joke.

No, it was not a joke. Slow, fat, drops began to fall from the sky as the temperature went right down and then more, faster. Not with the full fury of a Texan storm but not bad either, so I went out onto the front porch to behold the sheer bliss of the thing. Rain. Beautiful.

typical Texas street scene

Then, all too soon, the rain stopped, but I'm not complaining, everything cooled right down. Let's see more of this climate change.

Happily,

LSP

Corpus Christi Storm

 

Thunder rumbled like a celestial artillery barrage as the heavens opened and rain lashed down with cascading fury. Seriously, climate change got real and I had to pull over to the side of the road on the way to Mass. Clearly Hill County had forgotten to pay its carbon tax.

But maybe Bosque had because it was clear skies and sunny southern weather once you got over the dam which blocks the mighty Brazos, creating Lake Whitney. A great place to fish, for sure, and a good place to celebrate the Mass to boot, not far from one of Belle Starr's hideouts.

A typical Texas Storm

I keep meaning to visit what's left of her small 100 acre ranch, which once played host to the James Gang and other bushwhackers turned outlaw. All in good time, but in the meanwhile it's Corpus Christi, so here's a prayer.

Deus, qui nobis sub Sacramento mirabili Passionis tuae memoriam reliquisti; tribue, quaesumus, ita nos Corporis et Sanguinis tui sacra mysteria venerari, ut redemptionis tuae fructum in nobis iugiter sentiamus: Qui vivis et regnas in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

 

And in English:

O God, who under a wonderful Sacrament hast left us a memorial of Thy Passion; grant us, we beseech Thee, so to venerate the sacred mysteries of Thy Body and Blood, that we may ever feel within ourselves the fruit of Thy Redemption: Thou who livest and reignest forever and ever. Amen.

 

Powerful prayers and do you think that a nation, people or persons who openly mock God will somehow escape the storm of his judgement?

O Salutaris,

LSP

Changes

 

typical Texas street scene

Changes, I won't link to the Bowie song, but that's what this small aspect of rural North Central Texas is all about. Yep, changes. For example, the hideous yellow Queen Anne house is no longer yellow, its siding's been ripped off and new and remarkably ugly plastic windows face the public from its historic visage. 

why is this even called "Queen Anne"?

Hey, maybe this is better than the crack house it's been for the last 15 years, likewise our old favorite, the Meth Shack. Alas, the Meth Shack's no longer home to tack-heads in their underwear, wife beaters and pajama bottoms lolling around onna porch with lotto tickets and heads fulla meth.

Meth Shack

No, it's been bought by Jose, who's fixing the place up, well done. But who will buy the Disciples of Christ? Good question, ask the realtor; I liked that little congregation and it's sad to see it go down. But what can we say, so many little conventicles within a several block radius, all of them in competition.

for sale, alas

I tell you, if this town had been set up by Christians its central monument and focus would have been a collegiate church, surrounded by cafes, restaurants, fountains, gun shops, bakers, Confederate monuments and everything civilized. But no, we put up a courthouse.  There, in the very center of town lies a monument to secularism. Reflect, drill down on such wickedness.

pick 'n steal

Too harsh? Perhaps, but even so, it speaks to the hierarchy of Law and Faith in our country. The former clearly pulls rank on the latter. Westphalia aside, look at the result, Faith is trampled on by secular Law.

the Compound

But not at the Compound, and some things don't change. The Pick 'n Steal stands steady in the ferocious crosswinds of our present culture war and so does the Manse. Yes, accidents may very well change but substance remains the same.

It's raining now, a storm's blown in, we thank God for that.

Your Friend,

LSP

Small Change Charity

 

The Pick 'n Steal hasn't changed much over the years and I should know, I walk there pretty much every day for coffee after Morning Prayer. A bit samey perhaps, so I've decided to change things up.

Now, instead of leaving the P 'n S, 20 oz tumbler of coffee in hand and walking with urgency back to the Compound, I stop and put some change on a metal box fixed to the side of the shop.

Day 2, there's lots more now, untouched so far

It's a kind of experiment. How much change will accumulate before someone takes it? So far no one has and what does this mean? That our small farming community's rich and doesn't need the money? Hardly. That P 'n S customers aren't thieving scoundrels? If only that were true.

Let's see how this exciting exercise in small change charity unfolds. Hey, every penny counts and get 'em quick before our benevolent rulers ban cash. Speaking of charity, I put in some time at the food bank the other day, helping to unload a truck-full of food for the needy.

What a lot of food! Turkeys, chicken, ham, canned goods, delicious fish and on, not least boxes of farm fresh produce. Great result and it was good to help out for a good cause. We don't want to encourage scrounging malfeasance but neither do we want to see people going hungry.

Just a random small business shut down. Thanks, asset-strippers

They say clergy should spend time outside their churches doing good in the community. I'd agree with that and must do more. It was, you recall, the way of the early church.

Cheers,

LSP

What A Good Couple Of Days

 

It started as it often does, with a drive down I35 to the Metrosprawl, but this time in a V8 Beast, result. Objective? Set up at Dallas HQ then visit with the Bishop the next day and, the day after that go for a post-op checkup at a medico in Plano.

Two orders of business, several possible orders of outcome. So perhaps I was a little... pensive, how would it go? It went well. Had a great meeting with our outstanding new(ish) Bishop, which found financial security for Mission #1. No small thing, I live there.

And the Doc was helpful too, "You know, that was a pretty serious operation and you're healing way better than expected, I'm surprised." Result, and I drove back to base through the Tollway wasteland of North Dallas in good spirits.

Seriously, surgery's a deal. I know, we're all Warriors, but still, it's helpful to have the thing checked off by a doctor. He's Christian, to boot, and asked for permission to pray before the op, "Of course you can, I'm a priest." And there you have it, back to the sylvan boulevards of Old Hill County tomorrow.

Drive Safe,

LSP

Ride On

 

Look at this fool, a couple of years back. Well it's all fun and games till you break your femur. But I tell you, it's a great thing to go fast on a horse. I know, many of you have forgotten more about riding than I'll ever know, but we're not scoring points here, just having fun.

Ride On,

LSP

Texas Country

 

Look at this exotic wolf, a Pharaoh Dog, right here in Hill County.

Anubis aside, do not scorn the road less traveled.

Or the golden light of a Texan sun.

God Bless,

LSP

Texas Light

 

The famed City of Lights, aka Paris, France, is great but Texas has light too, from the heavens. That struck me as I drove out to take the Sacrament to a churchman who'd just got back from hospital after hip surgery. There it was, the sun breaking through the clouds like the presence of God blessing the land of the Lone Star State.

And there I was at the ranch, parking up by an old Chevy 2500 and looking over at round bales, a random dog house sitting on the side of a storm shelter, and a barn beyond. A lot of memories. Many, many hours dove hunting and walking the treelines, gun in hand, a few unsuccessful coyote calls under a bright moon, target shooting photos of Episcopal bishops with GH, rest in peace, and on. What good times.

A cacophony of tiny dogs greeted me at the door, "Come on in, Fr. LSP!" And I did, TR was recovering on a recliner and everyone was watching Yes Prime Minister, a favorite in this part of rural Texas, but that had to pause for the short service.

Think, God, in the Sacrament, visited that house and the people who received him were united to his victory on the Cross. The sun, if you like, broke through the clouds and the glory of God shone. What a wondrous miracle, and how dim our eyes are to see it, but I won't preach.

TR's a neat guy, he used to cowboy at the King Ranch and I asked him once what it was like, "I'll tell you Father, nineteenth century work for nineteenth century pay." In related news, he cooks what might be the best brisket I have ever tasted. Just outstanding, and that's no idle plaudit.

God bless you all and grant TR a full recovery.

Tantum Ergo,

LSP

Cooking With LSP

 

Cooking with LSP? That's not only stupid, it's dangerous, and what's that, a vegetable? Yes readers, a vegetable, asparagus, and here's how you do it. Wrap those green beasts in bacon.

It's not hard. Trim the warlike spears, toss in olive oil and black pepper and then wrap 'em up, three or four spears to a bundle. A bit like Fasces but without the axe. Then sit back and behold your handiwork, all this asparagus wrapped in bacon.

Level unlocked, put the enhanced veg in the oven at 400* for twenty minutes or so while, inspired by LL's sermon, you research Texas' illusive black cat, the Jaguarundi. 

These long tailed wild cats weigh in at around 20 pounds and are mistaken for Jaguars, which may or may not exist in the Lone Star State. They've been sighted here in Hill County, but not by me.

Better have a pistol handy in case the veg attacks!

Important research over, take the bacon wrapped green aggressors out of the oven. Serve with steak. I chose a Rib Eye, you may prefer a different cut, like a New York Strip. Hey, your call, no rule.

Then fall upon your scoff.

Like a warrior,

LSP

Ramblin' Man

  

Biden's America. Note made in China mask trash in foreground

The sun shone, birds sang, squirrels attacked a cat nesting on the Compound's fence, and the cat won. All was right with the world, so I went for a ramble after morning prayer.

Tarleton House, a wreck since "Biden"

Past the broken down shacks behind Tarleton House, past the flotsam and debris of Biden's America and into the comparative sanity of the local High's "discipline school."

Hail the Discipline School

Dicipline School? It used to be a bakery and sounds ferocious. Like, maybe, Prussian BCT, but it's just where malfeasant teens go to pass high school. The kids have to wear khakis and a polo, a veritable uniform, and they're not allowed to talk in class unless it's requested, either, and their performance or miserable lack thereof is monitored daily. Good heavens.

Doge Lofts?

Sounds a bit like school, which puts the normal ISD carry-on in perspective. Whatever, I know all this because the SPC attended this hallowed hall of academe before embarking on a career of military adventure. He's enrolled in college now, partly thanks to the DS. Thanks, teachers.

And on, past half-occupied warehouses which stand as mute monuments to King Cotton. You'd think some enterprising dogecoin millionaire would turn those upper stories into attractive lofts for people who want rural bucolic haven but have to commute to the appalling metrosprawl to earn a buck.

Then home, and guess what. Governor Abbott's lifting Texas' absurd, stupid, corrupt, iniquitous, snake oil, faked up China virus restrictions. About dam time. Let's hear it for secession.

Republic of Texas forever,

LSP

Walk Like an Egyptian? Grill Like a Chieftain

Like an Egyptian? Well, not really but the catchy jingle ran through my head as I passed the jolly old Meth Shack. It's empty now, sadly, and sits disconsolate, waiting for new tenants. I kept walking.

Meth Shack

All the way to the early voting station, where I stood in line waiting to cast my vote with all the other patriots. Or Bolsheviks. Were there any? Hard to tell but I haven't seen this kind of enthusiasm for an early vote ever.

Typical voters

Speaking of which, early voting data shows a large surge for 45, not least in Texas, and no wonder. The corporate sponsored Democrat Communists have made the killer virus that hardly kills anyone part of their platform. 

Whoa... I think I need one

So guess what, all their people are too scared to get out and vote, the virus will kill us!  And on the other hand, they can't be bothered to go to the polls because the Biden/Kamala ticket's so incredibly rubbish. Who wants to vote for that? Then there's the hugely popular riots. Yeah, what a winner.

Grill

Good electoral strategy, guys. Seriously, who's responsible for the K Street genius PR firm? That in mind, I stood in line and cast my vote against Marxism and the corrupt, opportunist crime families who push this odious ideology.

MAGA

Then it was back to the Compound and its grill. Smoke ensued, meat was added to heat and all was well with the world. Burgers were close to perfect, too.

Gator or would that be Caiman?

Your friendly Old Pal,

LSP

Just Strolling About in The Plague Year

Blue picked up a Shadow Wolf on the way to the Pick 'n Steal this morning. A ferocious beast and I'm glad he's an ally.

And I wasn't complaining about the trees either, takes the edge right off the heat.

Not that it matters at First Methodist because they're shut, for fear the Bat Bug will kill them all. Which it hasn't, fortunately.

Blue enjoys his spot at the PNS, where he sits tethered to the always empty Star Telegram box. Why is it empty? Because no one wanted to buy the rubbish newspaper so the order wasn't kept up, but the box remains, a dusty, dystopic warning to the "press."

Behold the misbegotten debris of the modern age!

And needless to say, First Baptist decided to make war on their ancient enemy, the trees. And now a once leafy boulevard sits baking under a harsh Texan sun. Good work, guys. Get rid of all the shade.

We detoured around the Meth Shack to visit Genius Patrol. GP are two dogs who live in someone's back yard and bark insanely at anything which goes by. Sometimes I talk to them, they bark back.

Then it was back to the Compound, mission accomplished. And that, fellow boulevardiers, is the story of that.

God bless,

LSP