Remembering childhood's Christmas

 

Years ago, as a child, I had my heart set on a train set for Christmas. You know the one I mean? A beautiful steam locomotive all shining in black, pulling an open container full of coal, and this pulling a carriage with people clearly visible through the windows. The set included a number of rails which when linked together would make a large circle; and you could also buy various accessories like a railway station, ticket office, more rails, carriages and so on.

I'd imagined buying all the additional accessories with my pocket money and building a rail network that would be the envy of any transport system you could think of.

I wrote several letters to Father Christmas explaining precisely which train set I was after, and pointing out that I had been a good boy all year round; just in case he didn't know.

On Christmas day I did not get that train set at all. Instead, my auntie had knitted me a pullover and a little train locomotive. I mean ... is she mad or what? 

A knitted train locomotive? I ask you ... how can you get a train locomotive made of wool and stuffed with pieces of cotton to go round and round? She didn't even knit me a set of rails!

I always wondered about the sanity of that woman. 

She must have been light-brained and a few tomatoes short of a salad, as they say. She was always knitting something. Tea cosies to keep the teapot warm, hats or bonnets to keep our heads warm, scarves to keep our neck warm, gloves and mittens, socks and booties to keep our hands and feet warm.

On another Christmas she knitted us all pencils and pens pullovers. Let me explain. She knitted long thin tubes the length of a pencil with different colour wool. A bit like the sleeve of your jumper or jersey but much smaller. The idea is that you push your pencil or pen through the tubes to keep them warm.

Is she mental or what? Do pencils feel the cold perchance?

Another year I asked my Father for a computer for my Birthday. He gave me a packet of crayons instead. He said he couldn't buy me a computer because it hadn't been invented yet!

To be fair, he was right. Computers hadn't been invented until years later. But a packet of crayons is hardly a substitute is it? He could have bought me a laptop or a tablet!

I asked my Mom for a helmet or hard hat for when I go out on my bicycle. I didn't have a bicycle at the time, but I was always forward thinking ... you know, just in case one day I got a bike. Instead she bought me a set of non-stick frying pans.

I always seem to get the wrong gifts. When I got married, my wife and I decided that we did not want any gifts or presents at all. We wrote in the invitation letters that we'd like everyone to come along and enjoy a nice toast to "Love and Happy Life" ever after. 

On the day in question everyone turned up with a toaster as a gift. We had at least 150 of the kitchen appliances.

I suppose the most useful present I was ever given was from my uncle when he gifted me a roll of double-sided sticky tape. I asked him why and he explained I could use the tape to pull back my sticking out ears. I had terrible sticking out ears as a child. I looked like a car with its doors open.

Eventually my parents sold our dog and the lawnmower to pay for my ears to be operated on. I had the operation on one ear. Unfortunately the doctor died shortly afterwards.

So now I have an ear looking normal and the other still sticking out. At the slightest breeze I spin round like a hotel revolving door.

Have you ever had a well-meaning gift which did not quite fit with what you had in mind?

Santa Brawl

 

I was in a large Department Store, just looking around wondering what to buy my wife as a Christmas present which looks expensive, but it isn't, and yet it is edible; so that if she doesn't like it I can always eat it. 

I think presents should be edible, don't you agree? If it is not edible it is not worth having.

I remember I had a girl-friend who liked shoes, and she liked chocolates too. I could not decide what to get her for her birthday. So I got her a pair of shoes made of chocolates! 

Anyway; back to my story. 

I was in this Department Store and there was a grotto with Father Christmas handing out presents to young customers. I stood there for a while.

Suddenly, he looked at me and shouted, "I know you ... you're going out with my wife!"

Immediately he got up from his seat and rushed at me, almost jumping, as those wrestlers do on TV when they bounce off the rope on the ring, and he hit me hard in the chest as he grabbed my neck.

I fell backwards, knocking down a Christmas tree and a lot of other suspended decorations. We tumbled and rolled round on the floor. 

The people were all shocked and started gathering their little ones in a panic. Santa held tight at my throat as we rolled backwards and forwards on the floor knocking down more ornaments and shelves with various items on display.

I raised my knee and must have hit him somewhere tender because he let out a shriekey type of cry. But he still help tight at my throat swearing and spitting like a drunken sailor rather than the gentle Santa which he purported to be. 

Eventually, two elves tried to pull us apart but were unsuccessful. They were joined by two burly Security Guards who managed to separate us.

I gasped for breath. I must have hit him hard because he was bleeding from his nose and holding his manhood. 

He shouted, "This ***** is going out with my wife!"

"I don't even know who you are," I said as I recovered my composure a little, albeit my heart was beating a million beats a minute, "take off your beard so I know whose wife I've been going out with!"

I know ... this could have been phrased a little better. 

As it is, it does sound as if I've been going out with multiple wives. Which I haven't! One wife is enough for me, I tell you. And so is one mother-in-law I hasten to add. 

Santa took off his beard and I still did not recognise him. 

So I said, "I still don't know who you are! More to the point, tell me who is your wife so we can narrow down the possibility of me going out with her!"

I know ... I know ... that came out wrong as well. My mind was all confused and all I was doing is incriminate myself even more.

At this point Fate intervened. This very big and very large and very rotund woman came on the scene.

Turns out she was his wife. Despite her size I had never seen her before.

Santa tuned round and said to her, "I love you bijou!"

"Bijou?" I thought, "she looks more like a boulder to me!" But I said nothing.

Apparently, she had been meeting the store manager in secret in order to get her husband, (Santa), a particularly expensive present to be given to him at a presentation at the store Christmas Party to celebrate his long service as Santa Claus. 

His suspicious mind had thought differently, and having seen me standing there, he somehow mistook me for her boy-friend.

He apologised and I helped him and the elves put up the up-turned Christmas decorations again.

The store manager did the presentation as planned. I wonder why he had a glint in his eye!!!

Good Christian Reading

 CHRISTIAN BOOKS FOR CHRISTMAS

 

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A Christmas Tale

It was a very cold week in early December. Some parishioners asked Father Ignatius if it was all right to build a Christmas crib in the car park as well as the one usually set up in church by the Altar.

The intention was to build a small wooden hut made of old wood they could pick up cheaply from the local saw mill; and then decorate it, and use the Nativity scene statues which they discovered in the store room deep in the basement under the church whilst they were cleaning it in summer.

Father Ignatius agreed, “as long as you don’t ask me to lift those heavy statues from the basement … they’re quite heavy you know. So be careful!” he said.

A few youngsters helped by the leaders of the Youth Club got together and built the wooden hut. At first it looked quite bare and unwelcoming, a little like the original manger in Bethlehem I suppose. But eventually, with loving tender care, mostly by the women involved whilst the men gave instructions or went to the pub for a drink, it looked really magnificent.

The statues were then brought up, with great difficulty, from the basement and placed in position. A local electrician volunteered his services and placed hidden lights at strategic places to make the crib glow warmly at night.

As it snowed and got bitterly cold, even for Northern England, the little wooden hut glowing in the church’s car park made a beautiful heart-warming sight for all passers-by and gave them a little hope for the New Year ahead.

Just beside St Vincent church, by the car park gate, there’s a little narrow lane leading deep into fields at the back of the church. From the street you cannot see the fields. There’s the church’s car park entrance, then the narrow lane entrance, then the entrance to the Convent nearby.

This long lane leads to a small field used by a local farmer to store his farm machinery. He leaves his tractors there, as well as several harvesting equipment and ploughs in a large shed. The field is well enclosed by a high fence and, for extra security; the farmer keeps a dog loose in the field with a small opening in the shed for it to shelter in his doghouse when it is cold and raining.

The dog is not always there; only on rare occasions when the farmer needs additional security on the site.

One morning, a few days before Christmas, the farmer called on Father Ignatius.

“You haven’t seen my dog by any chance Father?” he asked, “it’s a large shepherd dog. I keep him in the yard behind you every now and then, in his dog house in the shed.

“The area is well fenced-off so he shouldn’t have got away. But maybe he found a hole in the fence somewhere and ran off!”

The priest hadn’t seen the dog, but it could be possible that he found a way through the fence and got into the church’s gardens and car park. So he put on his coat and went out with the farmer to search the church’s back gardens first.

It had snowed all night and the snow was very thick and even everywhere since no one had been out to walk on it.

“I hope he’s OK …” said the farmer despondently, “it was very cold last night … well below zero Father. He should have stayed in his dog-house for any chance of warmth. I keep an electric fire on the wall nearby to heat the place … he would have been as warm as toast in the shed. It’s like a sauna in there even in winter!”

“Well … he’s not in the back gardens,” said the priest, “we’d better look in the church car park. Although if he went there he would have escaped in the street by now …”

The two men searched the car park and, eventually, there in the crib, sleeping in the manger just beside the statue of baby Jesus was the large shepherd dog.

As soon as he heard the men approaching he jumped in delight welcoming his master.

“At least he had the sense to find some warmth in the lap of Jesus,” said Father Ignatius, “pity some people do not have as much sense!”

OTHER FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

Stars and Celery

 

It was a beautiful warm summer evening. The youngsters from the Youth Club had gathered in the gardens behind St Vincent Church and enjoyed a lovely prayer service led by Father Ignatius and Father Donald, followed by a barbecue and singing by the fire.

As night drew in they had left one by one as their parents came to collect them and take them home. Even the Youth Club Leaders had gone. Only the two priests and Mrs Davenport, their housekeeper, remained in the gardens. She got up from her chair and started collecting the plates and cutlery to take them in the house.

“Oh … do sit down Theresa …” said Father Ignatius, “you’ve been working all evening. Just sit down and relax.”

“But there’s all this washing up to do Father …” she replied, “it won’t get done by itself …”

“Don’t worry about the washing up …” said Father Donald picking up his guitar and playing a tune, “Ignatius and I will do all the washing up later … I promise. Now sit down and let’s enjoy a few moments by the fire as it dies down …”

After a few moments of silence, listening to Father Donald playing his guitar, she could keep quiet no longer.

“What are you looking at up in the sky?” she asked Father Ignatius.

“All those stars … shining brightly in a clear dark sky. There must be hundreds and thousands of them. And they’re so far away …” said Father Ignatius pensively.

She looked up and said nothing for a moment or two.

“How are they held up there in the sky?” she asked.

Father Donald stopped playing the guitar.

“They are not held … they are just there …” he mumbled in his broad Glaswegian accent.

“But why don’t they fall?” she continued, “something must be holding them in the sky …”

“There’s no thing as a sky as such …” Father Donald began to explain, “there are stars, and planets and solar systems which make up the universe and …”

“Of course there’s a sky,” she interrupted, “it’s up there and I can see it. It is black at night and it changes color in the morning to blue and sometimes it is red in the evenings …”

“Dear Lord …” mumbled the priest as he picked up his guitar once again.

“What do you think Father Ignatius?” she asked, “isn’t God wonderful to have made all these stars … and in seven days too! He must have been working real fast.”

“I suppose so …” replied Father Ignatius gently.

“And then He made us humans and He put us on this earth …” she interrupted yet again.

“That’s right … He created the universe and all that is in it … including us,” continued Father Ignatius.

She gazed at the stars silently for a few moments. You could almost see the cogs turning in her head as she thought her next question.

“Do you think He created other living beings on those stars Father?” she asked.

Father Donald stopped playing the guitar and waited in anticipation for his fellow priest to reply.

“That’s a difficult question to answer …” said Father Ignatius eventually.

“Why should we be His only creations?” she enquired again.

“We really don’t know if this is the case,” said Father Donald, “there’s nothing in Scripture to suggest that God created other beings apart from us …”

“What do they look like? I wonder …” she interrupted again, “do they look like us? Or are they green with antennas on their heads like you see in the films …

“It says in the Bible that God made us in His image … so He must look human. Or does He look green with antennas so the people up there can recognize Him?

“And did He send them Jesus like He did to us … only He looked green too?”

“I think you’re running ahead of yourself Theresa …” said Father Ignatius gently, “we really have no way of knowing whether God created other living beings on other planets or other solar systems. Nor indeed what they look like.

“But in reality … that is not important.

“What is important is to focus on Him here and now. To accept Him as our God and Creator; and to love Him just as He loves us.

“There are enough mysteries in our Faith which we are asked to believe without us inventing new ones such as green creatures living in outer space …”

“One day as I was in the kitchen,” she said, “Father Donald waved a few sticks of celery through the open window and shouted the ‘Triffids have landed … the Triffids have landed …’ he has a wicked sense of humour, Father, don’t you think?”

“Sometimes humour helps to lighten the mood …” replied Father Ignatius defending his fellow priest.

“He also told me that there are no animals or pets in Heaven … what do you think Father Ignatius? Are there animals in Heaven?”

“I hope not …” replied Father Ignatius, “I would hate to come face to face with the Sunday roast reprimanding me for what I had done to it!”

“Aye indeed …” said Father Donald, “humour does help to lighten the mood … I hope it helps lighten the washing up which we’ve promised to do. Let’s get started!”

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE 

Lost

 

The gardens behind St Vincent Church stretched out for an acre or so. The land was part of a Monastery which stood there years ago which has long since been destroyed; although some ancient walls still exist outlining the perimeter of some ancient buildings.

The gardens were well maintained by a team of volunteers who had planted several fruit trees, flowering bushes and a vegetable patch which Father Ignatius and Mrs Davenport, the housekeeper, use to plant beans, carrots, tomatoes and several other vegetables in season.

At a secluded corner of the gardens stood a large statue of Our Lady on a pedestal, surrounded by rose bushes and overlooking a small pond containing goldfish and several plant-life. Father Ignatius held many prayer meetings there in summer evenings with the youngsters from the Youth Club, followed by a barbecue and Praise singing by an open fire.

Beyond the church gardens a thick hedge separated St Vincent’s property from a field leading to the hills and countryside.

Father Ignatius stood by the kitchen door one September evening at about six o’clock admiring the light rain as it drizzled gently through dark skies. It was that time of day when departing light met early darkness resulting in various shades of gray mingling with brown and golden autumnal leaves.

He looked out pensively and smiled to himself as he recalled lovingly his dear departed mother. Whenever it rained lightly as it did just now, she always used to say “the Angels have turned on the garden sprinklers in Paradise”. He smiled again recalling to mind her many sayings which often involved Angels and Saints living happily in Heaven above.

His thoughts were cut short suddenly by the front door bell ringing. He opened the door and there stood a young man and two boys, one aged about twelve and the other slightly younger. They were wet all through as they tried to shelter underneath a small umbrella.

“Please sir, can you help us …” said the man, “we believe our small dog has got into your gardens through the fence … we were on our way home through the fields at the back and he escaped from his dog collar … it’s a bit too large you see … can we search your gardens please?”

“What … in this rain?” asked the priest incredulously.

“He’s a small dog …” said the older boy wiping his face of water and tears, “he won’t make it through the night … please mister, let us look for him … we won’t be long …”

“Let me help you …” replied Father Ignatius as he put on his coat and took with him a small dog collar and chain often used by his own dog Canis, “we’ll also need a couple of electric flashlights as it’ll soon get dark …” he continued, handing a flashlight to the young man.

Moments later they were all out in the drizzling rain looking for the lost dog in the church’s grounds.

The two boys ran here and there shouting “Bruno … Bruno …” in the hope that the lost creature may come running to them.

At one point, as Father Ignatius pointed his lit flashlight left and right, he thought he noticed some movement amongst the rose bushes around the pedestal on which stood the statue of Our Lady. He approached the statue quietly and got down on his hands and knees pointing the flashlight at the foot of the pedestal in the hope of finding the small dog sheltering amongst the bushes. There was nothing there.

He looked behind him, and discovered the young man and the two boys kneeling on the wet grass with their heads bowed low.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“We are praying … like you … so that Mary can find the dog for us …” said the young man.

“She’s got more sense than to be out in this weather …” replied the priest gritting his teeth and wishing he was at home by the fire enjoying a hot cup of chocolate drink.

A few minutes later, after they'd been soaked right through, one of the boys found the dog behind a shed. They picked him up joyfully and he greeted them warmly shaking his little tail in delight.

The priest suggested they carry him home to make sure he doesn’t slip through his collar again. They thanked him most profusely and left hurriedly through the side gate and onto the main road.

Father Ignatius made his way to the Parish House still carrying his dog’s collar and chain which he had taken with him, and the two flashlights.

As he entered the house, totally drenched with muddy knees and wet trousers where he’d been kneeling, he was greeted by Mrs Davenport, the housekeeper.

“How come you took the dog for a walk without the dog?” she enquired looking at the collar and chain in the priest’s hand, “and in this terrible weather too … at least Canis had the sense to keep warm by the fire!”

Father Ignatius said nothing as he went upstairs to get changed. He wondered whether Jesus meant the Good Shepherd would go out looking for the lost sheep in all weathers. 

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

When disasters happen

 

“We interrupt this programme to bring you a News Flash …” blared the radio in the kitchen.

Father Ignatius stopped his cooking for a minute and listened attentively. There had been a train crash not far from where he lived. Somehow the train was de-railed and fell down a steep embankment into a nearby river. There were a number of casualties as well as many injuries.

The priest rang the emergency number given by the radio announcer to enquire how he might help. He was asked to go to the local hospital to donate blood, and also to help comfort some of the not seriously wounded.

An hour or so later he was consoled that many of the town’s folk had responded to the appeal and a long queue had formed to donate blood.

That disaster had shaken the town’s morale badly. Father Ignatius decided, unconventionally as it might seem, to make the train crash the subject of his sermon on Sunday.

He approached the lectern and said: “Let us pray for the victims and the injured of the train crash which happened a few days ago; as well as for their family and friends.

“This train crash has come as quite a shock to all of us, especially as it comes so close to the tragedy last week when a bus driver lost control of his bus and killed several school children walking on the sidewalk.

“When such disasters happen, some of us get a little confused and ask why God made it happen. Some even blame Him for the disaster believing that a loving God should have prevented it.

“I say … Praise the Lord!”

Father Ignatius paused for a while to allow the murmurs in church to die down.

“I can see from your faces that some of you think I’ve gone mad,” he continued.

“Father Ignatius has lost his marbles … he is a few Hail Mary’s short of a Rosary … his little grey cells have turned to ashes … and whatever other metaphors you wish to make up to describe my sanity or lack of it.

“Of course I recognise and I'm deeply shocked by the terrible tragedies that have befallen this town in the last few days. Especially when we consider as well the severe economic crisis we’re living through and how it is affecting many families facing loss of work and income. And how misery tends to enjoy company and has visited many local communities lately.

“Please don’t misunderstand me … when such disasters happen we must help in every practical way we can.

“But I also wish to ask you to consider this … Where do you think God is when a disaster happens?

“Is He hiding behind the settee cringing in fear at what is happening in the world today? How it’s all gone wrong and He can’t handle it anymore?

“Or is He still in control of all that is happening in the universe?

“When we praise Him, we’re not doing so because of the disaster, but because He is still in control of this and every situation.

“In doing so, we acknowledge His greatness, His omnipotence and that His will be done on earth as it is in Heaven.

“By praising Him, no matter what the situation, we somehow open a channel for His grace to shine upon us and, if it is His will, a good outcome will result from a bad situation.

“The alternative of course is to rebel and blame Him for the bad situation that befalls us. And where will this lead us I ask you?

“How dare we … insignificant minuscule little creatures that we are … how dare we question His will and in so doing distance ourselves from His love and mercy?

“Of course we’re hurt and shocked by what has happened recently and we’re confused. We wouldn’t be humans if we weren’t.

“But I urge you, having prayed for the victims and their families and friends, having helped practically where we can, let us now stand and confidently praise the Lord that He is still in control of everything.” 

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

Meet my Book Promotions Team

Bonzo Bookcase - Marketing Manager 

I have a new Marketing Manager and a Public Relations Adviser. His name is Bonzo Bookcase. You can see his photo above.

We met today to discuss ways of promoting my books and how to get help from my loyal readers to pass the word around about my books and recommend them to other potential readers.

The conversation went something like this:

Marketing Manager: You must stop monkeying around Vic and take this question of book promotions seriously.

I didn't pay much attention as I was eating some monkey nuts he had in a bowl at the time. He threw a banana at me to get my attention and asked: How many books have you got published so far?

Larry Adman - Public Relations Adviser 

Me: Forty - and a cartoon one available to download FREE from my website (HERE).

Larry Adman, the PR Adviser smirked as he chewed on a banana.

Bonzo Bookcase shook his head in contempt, scratched his armpit for a while, and then said: Forty? You have a lot to say for yourself. Are they all available on-line as well as in the shops?

Me: Yes, some are available in paperback and Kindle format from AMAZON, whilst others are available in Kindle format only. I have a website which shows my Christian books and my Funny books too.

Marketing Manager: Funny books?

Me: Yes, they attract new readers who may then hopefully read my Christian books too. My website has an option called "more" at the top of the screen where people can choose the style of book they want to read (HERE).

Marketing Manager: Good ... have you had any feedback from your readers. And I don't mean have they sent you bananas and peanuts!

Me: Yes, some have e-mailed me saying they liked the books, others have left Reviews on the AMAZON website.

Marketing Manager: Why don't you encourage them to write more Reviews on AMAZON for you?

Me: How? Anyway, I don't want to impose.

Marketing Manager: You're not imposing you ape! If your readers genuinely like what you write they'll be happy to spread the word for you in AMAZON Reviews or by word of mouth even. If some of your readers have Blogs or contacts on social media like FB, X or whatever, why don't they write about your books there? That's the greatest compliment they could pay you? Better than just good wishes. 

Ask them ... beg them even ... to tell others about your books. If they are as nice as you say they are, they will oblige.

Me: Sounds a good idea! I just don't want to bother my readers.

Marketing Manager: Your books are not expensively priced ... why is that? Some are the price of a cup of coffee or a bunch of bananas; peanuts even!

Me: The intention is not to make money. The price of the books is based on production costs and postage. The royalties I get are very low ... just a few cents per copy.

Marketing Manager: No wonder you pay me peanuts then? WAIT A MINUTE !!! Are you mad Mister? It says HERE that you are giving some of your books for FREE. For FREEEE!!!!

Me: Well ... my intention is that people would like what I write and then get to read my Christian books and ...

Marketing Manager: Giving away books for FREE! Well that's an excellent business model that is. Are you trying to make a monkey out of me?

Me: Well ... I thought ...

Marketing Manager: That's the problem with you ... you thought ... well, stop thinking and leave the planning to me. People these days want to know the person behind the author. Who are you? What kind of person are you? They like to get to know you ... and a heart-rending story helps ... it makes them like you more.

Tell them a sad story about you to make them feel sorry for you and buy your books. I can arrange to have you run over by an elephant for example. I have an elephant friend at the zoo, or a rhino if you prefer. Or get a bear to bite your backside ... or a lion to maul you over ...

NOTE: At this point I decided to run out of Bonzo's office without signing a Contract with him. Any ideas or advice as to promoting my books gladly appreciated. Or an AMAZON Review perhaps. Thanx.

Emma Penniless - Accountant 

God in adversity

 

Jack was a lovely man. Well loved by his wife, three children and four grand-children, as well as his wider family and friends.

When they all went to church together they filled the two front rows on the left of the Altar. But that wasn’t often, because they usually attended different Masses at St Vincent.

One day, out of the blue, Jack was taken severely ill and admitted to hospital. The whole family was devastated and it is fair to say that their Faith took quite a beating.

But not Jack. He remained calm and somehow, accepted the will of God. Of course, he was a little scared, but accepted what was happening to him willingly, trusting God that all would be well.

Father Ignatius visited him in the hospital often, and was greatly humbled by the man’s Faith and cheerfulness, despite the obvious pain he was in at times.

Jack remained in hospital for a while, receiving family visitors as well as his priest every now and then.

One day, whilst Father Ignatius was the only visitor Jack said to him:

“See that man over there Father, in the bed just opposite me?”

The priest nodded silently.

“He doesn’t believe in God Father …” continued Jack, “and he’s scared to death. He has the same symptoms and the same problems as me … and to be honest the doctors don’t hold much hope for either of us …”

Father Ignatius held Jack’s hand.

“Hey … I know what’s what Father. Both of us will have an operation soon and the chances are … well, I wouldn’t bet my shirt on it …”

Jack laughed weakly.

“You know what I did Father …”

The priest shook his head.

“Yesterday, I went over to that man. His name is Larry. And I said to Larry that Jesus will look after him. I told him that everything will be OK and he is not to worry about the operation.

“I don’t think he believed me, or in Jesus … but I think it calmed him down a bit.

“At least I’ve noticed that he’s stopped crying. He used to sit there and wipe his eyes and feel sorry for himself. He’s stopped that now. Maybe Jesus has started working on him … hein?”

Father Ignatius nodded weakly. He prayed silently for Jack and thanked the Lord for this man’s Faith in such adversity. Not only to believe in Christ’s healing power but to announce it boldly to someone who didn’t believe at all.

“Hey Father … you’d better give me Communion now; before the family turns up … you know how emotional they get … especially my wife ...” said Jack with a weak smile.

The priest prayed with Jack for a while after giving him Communion and waited until his family arrived before leaving the hospital.

A few days later Jack and Larry were operated on. Both operations were successful and after a period of recuperation in hospital and at home both fully recovered.

Jack and Larry became friends. Larry and his wife and daughter became Christian and attend church at St Vincent.

Jack’s severe illness and his stay in hospital were the channel for a family of un-believers to get to know and love Christ.

(Based on a true story). 

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE 

There's an App for this

 

It's amazing what you can do with modern technology; and with many Apps available for this and that, and with AIs giving you answers to every question you have in mind, and responding to your every need.

I wanted to write something really nice for my wife's birthday card. Something more meaningful than the usual Happy Birthday and Best Wishes etc ... Unfortunately, I am not a good writer.

So I asked the App - or was it the AI, on my cell-phone?

They said:

"My dearest precious treasure. Another year has passed that has shown me that I am the luckiest man alive to have shared my life with you. If I could only stop time ... ... ..."

It went on like that for a bit; but you get the idea. So I faithfully copied every word in my best handwriting on the birthday card, and left it on the kitchen table, as I left for work.

Whilst I was on the train I got a text from my wife that said - "Thank you. Did you use an App to write all this?"

I did not know what to do. So I asked the App how to respond to my wife's text.

They said:

"My dearest wife/husband. If words were mere snowdrops falling from the sky I would capture them as an offering to convey my love for you ... ... ..."

And the App went on with more snow references that soon turned to slush.

I copied as much as I could into a text which I sent back - omitting of course references to wife/husband, and similar examples like his/her. I'm not stupid ... 

I made sure the text looked personal and my message came from the heart. In fact I said so. 

Unfortunately the damn auto-correct said this message was from the "fart" not "heart".

I had a lot of explaining to do when I got home that evening. But at least I bought some flowers from the gas station on my way home.

Bishop Phoning

 

The phone rang one evening as Father Ignatius was watching football on TV. It was Father Frederick from Bishop’s House.

“Hello Ignatius are you well?”

The preliminary greetings over, Father Ignatius was keen to find out the reason for the call. After all, it isn’t everyday that the Bishop rings a lowly priest such as he.

“I’m sorry to tell you that Monsignor Thomas is not well … he’s in hospital right now …”

Father Ignatius knew the Monsignor from way back as they trained together for the priesthood in Rome. He hadn’t seen him for a while and the news of his illness came as quite a shock.

“Oh don’t worry it’s nothing serious. He sprained an ankle as he fell down the stairs,” declared Father Frederick nonchalantly. “Anyway … are you doing anything on Tuesday? Thomas was due to go to a Conference and deliver a Keynote Speech on behalf of the Bishop … now he can’t make it he suggested you go instead!”

“Keynote speech … well … I’ve never given a speech … and it’s only three days away …” hesitated Father Ignatius.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll do well, the Bishop has every confidence in you … we’ll send you your itinerary and your speech and everything else you’ll need in the morning … Oh it’s in Washington,” interrupted the priest at the other end of the line in his usual casual manner.

“Washington up North?” asked Father Ignatius still in a daze by the sudden turn of events.

“Not Washington in Tyne and Wear … the real Washington old boy … in America …it’s only for a few days … nothing to it … we’ll send you all the details first thing tomorrow.”

Father Ignatius put the phone down and tried to recall the phone conversation. Had he dreamt what just happened? One minute he was happily watching football on TV the next he’d received his marching orders to go to the other end of the world.

The following morning a special courier delivered a large pouch confirming that it was not all a dream after all. There for him to read were his speech, the programme of the Conference, his air tickets and everything else he needed to complete his mission.

Apparently the Monsignor was due to attend an International Youth Conference to discuss and evaluate various ways of encouraging young men into the priesthood in order to overcome a projected shortfall in vocations.

“Have they thought of praying about it?” mumbled Father Ignatius as he fumbled through the reams of papers on his desk.

Three days later and Father Ignatius was in the States once again. He recalled that the last time he visited America was also, as now, a totally unscheduled and unexpected visit.

His hotel was full of priests mainly from America and Canada and a few from Europe. He was the only one from England and soon discovered that he spoke “with a funny accent”, or so his fellow conference delegates thought.

The itinerary included several trips to tourist venues scheduled by the conference organizers and he was paired with a young priest in his twenties from Houston Texas. The idea was to allow exchange of views and ideas on the way different churches tackled vocations in the priesthood.

Father Ignatius got on very well with this young priest and they discussed quite a lot during the various organized trips and free time they had together.

Father Ignatius learnt how this young farmer’s son, decided to become a priest. Being almost half his own age, the young Texan provided quite an insight into his motivation, outlook, hopes and fears. His Christian up-bringing had played a very important part in his decision to become a priest. So much so that the night before he was to deliver his speech Father Ignatius had an important decision to make.

“Do I deliver the Monsignor’s speech as it has been given to me, or do I tell them also my very own views on vocations and the priesthood?” he asked himself.

He felt that the speech written for him, whilst full of facts and statistics, projections and strategies for the future, lacked the very essence and soul which the young lad from Houston had engendered in his conversations with him.

Here we have a young Catholic boy, one of a family of six, all girls except for him. Brought up on a farm by loving Catholic parents who had endured poverty and hardship over the years, yet they managed to keep the family together, all of whom grew up to be exemplary treasures for their parents to be proud of. One of the young man’s sisters was a nun back in Texas. The others were happily married and raising their children as taught by their parents.

In particular, one phrase from that young priest stuck in Father Ignatius’ mind, “The way my parents brought me up, it was inevitable I’d become a priest!” he had said in his Texan accent.

“That alone is worthy of a speech,” Father Ignatius thought to himself, “Even though I might deliver it in my funny British accent.”

And that’s exactly what he did.

He said to his listeners that it isn’t the church which selects people to be priests; but it is God Himself.

By the grace of God we all have a mission on this earth. Some parents are given the gift of children by God. Their gift back to God is the way they bring these children up.

They can create the conditions within the family where it becomes inevitable that their sons may become priests, and their daughters nuns. And those children who go on to have their own families may in their turn emulate their parents’ good example.

Nothing should give parents more pride than to see their sons and daughters join the church. And when they get to meet the Good Lord they can look up humbly and say: “I did my best Lord with the children you gifted me.”

He explained to his audience that priests have an important role in this cycle of events by being an example which others might wish to follow.

Priesthood was not a matter of statistics, projections, strategies and plans. Whether or not there were enough vocations in the future was a matter for God and not for planners and strategists.

“We should have enough Faith in God to ensure that His Word is spread on this earth by people chosen by Him. And in so doing, our role is to pray constantly that many will follow in our footsteps as we priests lead by good example,” concluded Father Ignatius.

Before he left for the airport Father Ignatius met up again with the young Texan and gave him a small Crucifix as a souvenir. He thanked him warmly for inspiring him to deliver a speech from the heart which was no doubt remembered by all delegates at the conference.

READ MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE

Let him die

Father Ignatius was a member of the Doctors and Patients Consultative Committee at the local Hospital.

The Chairman of the Meeting welcomed all present and said:

“Thank you for attending this Meeting which we have arranged to discuss a matter on which the Hospital Board has asked for our views. Over the past few months there have been a number of premature births in this hospital and, as you would imagine, it has proved a very difficult and emotive issue for both the medical staff and parents to deal with.

“Let me introduce Doctor Farmington who will address us for a few minutes on the subject in question.”

The doctor stood up and explained about instances when babies are born pre-maturely, some as early as twenty three weeks into pregnancy. He explained that despite medical advancements and efforts made to save the infant, in the majority of cases, those who survived, had severe physical and mental disabilities throughout life.

These disabilities, sometimes painful, resulted in the child leading a very difficult existence dependent on others and on constant medical attention, with no hope of ever being cured to lead a normal life.

The doctor also explained that often, the very intervention by medical staff to save the baby, created medical risks which would adversely affect the infant in later life; for example brain damage, infection and so on.

The dilemma facing the medical profession was whether it would be more humane to let such premature babies just pass away peacefully rather than condemn them to a difficult and often miserable life.

The doctor was followed by a Senior Social Worker who went on to add that in a large number of cases, where the baby was saved despite the severe disabilities, the strain on the family was such that marriages frequently ended in divorce causing further pain and heartache to everyone involved. Furthermore, in many cases any other children in the family suffered too because of the extra attention and resources afforded to the disabled child by the parents. Often one or both parents had to give up work to look after the disabled child putting further pressure on the families’ finances.

The debate went on as to the limited financial resources available by families and the State to assist in such cases.

One or two parents at the meeting maintained that disabled children are well-loved by their parents and are central to their families despite their disabilities. They talked about the sanctity of life and how they, as parents, had the right to decide on medical intervention and not the medics or anyone else.

“You’re very quiet Father,” said the Chairman of the Meeting, “Although I might guess on your views …”

A few people laughed.

“By guessing my views, you may well save me the agony of having to decide on this …” replied Father Ignatius.

The Meeting fell silent.

“I fully appreciate the difficult decisions that have to be made by all concerned in such cases as premature births …” continued the priest.

“It is true of course that where the medics intervene, using their great skills, the results more often than not are a disabled child unable to fend for himself throughout what could be a long life.

“As we’ve heard, this puts a great strain on all concerned and marriages often break-up as a result inflicting further pain on the whole family.

“Understandably, the parents in such cases want everything possible to be done to save the child, and they cling to faint hope that all will turn out well. This is Faith indeed, albeit in reality, as we’ve heard, in most cases it is misplaced Faith since the surviving child is permanently and severely disabled.

“Yet, we must remember, that in these traumatic few moments when a decision has to be made, the parents are acting without any medical knowledge or facts whatsoever, and they base their decisions to save the child on pure loving instincts.

“Faced on the one hand with definite medical and statistical evidence of the outcomes of intervention, and on the other hand on parental love, hope and faith … how are we as a society to decide on this terrible dilemma?

“Who are we, I ask, to play God and decide to condemn a human being to a life of misery for themselves and those around them?

“If a child is born pre-maturely, extremely so in some cases, is this not a sign that the mother's body has rejected it because there is something wrong with it? By intervening are we not interfering with the natural course of event?”

The doctor and the Social Worker smiled sensing the argument going in their favor. Father Ignatius stopped for a second or two as he often did to focus peoples’ attention.

“Let me invite you to consider something else,” he continued.

“There are instances where babies are born after their full pregnancy term, yet, they are born with severe difficulties; like a hole in the heart for example …

“What do the medics do then? Do they reject them as faulty and let them die?

“Or do they do their utmost to help these young lives who sometimes, they too, grow up with disabilities?

“So I ask myself, what is the difference between a child born pre-maturely and another born after its full term? Why should one benefit from the skills and expertise of the doctors and not the other?

“Our skills, whatever they are, are God-given. We’ve done nothing by ourselves to achieve what we achieve.

“A skilled doctor for instance owes his skills and aptitude to assimilate and use knowledge to a Higher Being. This applies to all of us.

“And as such we owe that Higher Being, God, a duty to use our skills, whatever they are, for the benefit of humanity.

“Rather than ask whether the doctors should intervene in the case of pre-mature babies, why don’t we ask God to intervene? Don’t we trust Him enough?

“My views, Mr Chairman, if you’ve guessed them correctly … are that the doctors should do their best with the skills and expertise at their disposal to help these young lives … and then leave it to God to intervene as to the quality and length of life which transpires as a result of their efforts.”

MORE FATHER IGNATIUS STORIES HERE