Apparently the Pope's sermon on March 26th, 2007 was the affirmation of hell. He proclaimed hell exists and is eternal. "Hell is a place where sinners really do burn in an everlasting fire, and not just as a religious symbol designed to galvanize the faithful."

I am galvanized, nonetheless.

My pastor writes Our Lord Himself refers to Hell in the Gospel, at least 11 times. He says the road to hell is easy and the road to Heaven is difficult. "Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road broad that leads to destruction and those who enter through it are many (Mt. 7:13).

How many? Just what is the percentage? I need this information updated to 2007 expectations.

My pastor continues that these have been the same Catholic teachings for 2007 years. Pope Benedict did not proclaim anything new. Christ's teachings have been neglected in modern times.

I have been taught, since second grade, about heaven and hell. There are many things about the Catholic religion that are very hard to understand.

How hard is it to understand a Heaven and a Hell? It is as easy as thinking of God as a parent that punishes his children for wrong doing and rewards others for doing good. OH..but it is not that easy. Again, I thought about the college students shot down a couple of days ago, their life snatched up and taken away like a well aimed fly squatter at a fly. Snap and life as you know it is over. What happens to those kids? The good ones go to Heaven and the bad to Hell? How good is good and how long is Hell and what about Purgatory? What about the non Catholics? What happens to them? Where do they go? Are there chapels and synagogues at the afterlife. Do we get put into groups and then set to our rightly owners? How would a parent judge a child that did wrong but had no idea about how he could redeem himself and confess his sins? Can non-Catholics receive Last Rights? Does it work for them? What exactly does it take to redeem ourselves? What if we like doing good deeds?

My father tells me that if you are Catholic and a very bad person all your life, and have Last Rights performed by a priest, the belief is you will go to Heaven.

See how hard it is for the general public to understand all this? I know it is what we've been taught. I know it is real and true. But it is so hard to understand that we push it aside. We think about it later. We wonder if our bad behavior is THAT bad. We talk ourselves into our goodness.

Mortal sins, venial sins...it is just too much. Can't we just try to be as good as we can? Would we? If there weren't consequences would we care at all? Would we worry so much about what we do if there weren't the speeches and the sermons and the Bible; reminders. Galvanization. How much would we care about missing mass, not receiving the sacraments, lying, cheating, killing, or coveting our neighbors property or wife?

In our Act of Contrition, the prayer we say at confession: we say it!!! Do we hear ourselves? "Oh my God, I am hearty sorry for having offended you, and I detest all my sins because I DREAD the loss of heaven and the PAINS of HELL..BUT MOST OF ALL because they offend, You, My Lord, who are all good and worthy of ALL MY LOVE. I firmly resolve, with the help of Your grace to sin no more and to avoid the near occasion of sin. Amen"

I think we have to do more than avoid the near occasion of sin if Hell is really a physical place and the fire is as hot as I think it is.

When I go to early morning mid week mass (usually because my son is altar serving), I see the old men and women of the parish. Why are they there? It is not "required". I like it, too. It feels like a nice way to start the day. It keeps me "in touch" with my religion. The church is quiet and peaceful. I watch those parishioners with their beautiful rosary beads clipping away those prayers. I have several sets of rosary beads that I really love...but I say the rosary less than every now and then. Sometimes I say it without the beads but I lose track of the prayers. Some of the Italian ladies are dressed in head to toe black as a sign or mourning. Will those rosary prayers help their loved ones get to Heaven? Catholics believe prayers do help those in purgatory. What if that person is in Hell. Is it a waste of time? Can someone else use the prayers? When we send mass cards are we helping those burning souls? If someone has lots of mass cards do they get out faster? Can we buy our way out? Now, that sounds like

Heaven on Earth.

A Three Dog Life by Abigail Thomas...a book/memoir about a lady life after her husband sustains a head injury in a car accident. Sad but good.

from book jacket:

Wikipedia: Australian Aborigines slept with their dogs for warmth on cold nights, the coldest being a "three dog night".

Last night I was going through pictures. I had meant to take a few minutes to find a couple of pictures that were requested by the grade school where both myself and my children attended. The school is planning a 100 year celebration. Pictures of the families that the children as well as the parents attended there in the past 100 years were requested.

Of course, hours later, I was sitting on my basement floor crying, almost hysterically.
When did all that happen and how is it over already?

Things change.

Just like the freedom I have now without working. It should be grand. Lots of the time it is, but it is the unknowing that puts a dent in it. I like to be decisive and set. I like things orderly and planned. Even if I feel the joy in something I know it will soon change and then what? It is all a bit unnerving.

From the movie Oscar and Lucinda: "Lord, All Thy glory surrounds me, but I am afraid".

I keep a picture with me of my husband and three of my sons (the youngest was not born yet)(the prince had not yet arrived). My kids are young: 1,4,and 6. My two older sons are in matching red coats. Each of them have half of an Italian roll in their hands. The youngest is wiggling out of my husband's arms in red and black checkered pants, black socks and a matching tweed hat and coat. My husband looks happy and a bit staggered. It is the most beautiful family in the world. I always wonder how God chose these children for me. It is sometimes hard for me to look at them because I see so much. I will always be eternally grateful for this family and this life, truly incredible. It is not for what they do or how much they accomplish but really for just who they are, their mere substance is true and complete beauty; miracles.

We are all still here, happy and healthy. So why was I crying as I am now that I write this?

The other night my youngest son and I were sitting on the sofa stuck to each other as if glued. My fingers combed his soft, silky, wavy hair. Silently, minutes passed. Then: "Mom, what is your greatest fear"?
Do I really need a 10 year old to torture my reeling mind even more than it already is tortured?

"What do you mean? The thing I am most afraid of? I don't understand", I said.

"Well, for example, your worst nightmare", he said.

I thought for a quick second and realized I could never tell this child my worst nightmare. "Being lost at sea", I finally said. I thought that was somewhat true and not too scary. He gave a little nod silently, seemingly saying "liar". He told me about his scary dream (he tells me his dreams every day) which was not really scary..it was about noise and how in the dream the noise gets intolerable. I thought, "liar". Did he spare me? I wondered.

I know being spared helps. I also know it is no guarantee for the future. Real blood is sometimes needed to be spared. Recent events remind me of the story of Passover.

How could I tell any child my worst nightmare. The one I dream is the dream where some crazy person, usually a big deranged man, is chasing me to kill me. He never catches me but I know I am going to die in the very near future. I always wake up before dying. As if that dream isn't bad enough, that really isn't the scariest part. Thin layers of sweat cover my whole body, my heart pounds, real feelings of fear linger. As I snuggle closer to my strong, sleeping husband and pull my heavy protective comforter up to my chin my heart rate slows, I recover and fall back to sleep. Many mornings I wake up and since I am so shocked that I am required to actually get out of bed I barely remember my fear, my near death experience or my dream. When remembering, I realize the dream isn't the scariest part. The scariest part is the unknown.

Terror abounds in the world and I am one to shun it away. I find the silver lining every day. I turn off the news. I do not obsess over the papers. If I did I'd be in the back of some closet hiding and biting the sleeve of my shirt. I can't see without wondering, I can't wonder without fear. I feel how close those 32 college students that were massacred and others injured by some ONE madman at Virginia Tech are to me, to all of us. Remember how we felt about 911? We could have been leap years away from NYC but in our gut something happened to us too.

I look at those pictures. I see a time that came and went and I feel so scared. There is so much joy in my life and in my future but something happened to time, to my kids, to life and to me. Something changed and keeps on changing. As I try to grab it and keep it, it's gone. I wonder.

That's my nightmare..these things that happen that have no explanation. Our connection to the surrounding world that has nothing and everything to do with us and our total inability to control anything. The realization we all have the ability to create and thereafter we are mamed, stunted, and limited. Overachievers make me feel hopeful but when I really think about it I conclude the same. Life is it's own force and it is stronger than us.

I realize the knowing and the not knowing is my worst nightmare. I will never tell my son that, though. He thinks I know everything.

A favorite line from Oscar and Lucinda: "I DARE NOT HOPE AND YET I MUST that through this deed I have your trust."

Hope is one antidote: I dare not hope and yet I must.

"Only the mediocre are always at their best."

Start by doing what's necessary; then do what's possible; and suddenly you are doing the impossible.
--St. Francis of Assisi