Guest Submission:

Poetry submitted by Eddie

God will win,so will you be marble or clay.

Think carefully, before he starts chipping away.

If you choose marble, know He will hammer away.

So pick the other, He’s much more gentle with clay.

But truth is, there’s a much easier way.

Run to Blessed Mary, she molds Saints every day.

It is her destiny, to crush Satan’s head.

Her Son has risen up, giving life to the dead.

 

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Guest Submission: TIME & ETERNITY

Disclaimer: Guest articles represent the opinion of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this site owner or any affiliated staff.

By Will Boomhower

I have to believe that most thinking Catholics are troubled and often confused by the divisions that currently plague the church. I just returned from morning Mass; afterward I stopped in the office to visit with our business manager and our DRE.  The three of us always enjoy this  “chat-up” and this morning was no different. At issue was whether or not to allow a number of children from CCD whose parents don’t bother to bring them to Sunday Mass, and subsequently don’t take instruction seriously, to be confirmed at the Vigil Mass this weekend.

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Guest Submission: Not Far From Us (Fiction)

by Damien Peterson. Check out Damien’s YouTube channel here. He covers Catholic news and events.

Why I decided to go back I don’t know. I guess I just had to see it again despite the torture it was on myself. There is something to be said about familiar pain in how it both stings and soothes at the same time; which was felt more depended on the day. What was to be felt more this day was soon to be discovered.

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Guest Submission: Poem by Eddie

While we keep killing babies, in every thinkable way.

Congratulations, Satan, your enjoying these days.

You have convinced the whole world, to do your evil work.

But the world is convulsing, and beginning to jerk.

The danger we face, not enough babies are being born.

We have upset the balance, the whole world is torn.

There might be no turning back, we are losing our grip.

We now need God’s intervention, or we will continue to slip.

Our world is now balancing on the edge of a knife.

Without God in our hearts, it guarantees horrible strife

Guest Submission: Night Terrors (Fiction)

Story submission from Alda Maria Rizzo

Story of a ten year old child detained and sexually abused and meant to be murdered by a wanna be seminary

Night Terrors, December 1, 2018, record of childhood memories

The reason for the demons attacking me at this time is because today is my 45 year wedding anniversary, my husband passed away Feb 6/18, the day after my birthday, his death came quick and was very painful, thank God at the end he received all the rites and gave up his soul completely to Jesus, Father Pio was his most favorite saint.  This year was horrible, shortly after my husband’s death my younger sister of 63 became ill, her sickness was slow, over five months, she suffered greatly close to the end, we had to coerce her into the last rites, as she was not a believer, but at the end she succumbed and thanked all of us for looking after her.  She died on the feast of St. Michael on September 29/18 before the 5:00 AM hour.
When my husband died, I stopped praying, not the Hail Mary or Our Father, but the additional 12 year prayer from St. Bridget, the Holy Rosary and St. Michael’s chaplet, it’s not that I did not want to pray, I was unable to, physically, mentally and emotionally.  I have now started to pray again, but it is slow.  The demons have plagued me since 1962.  They are cowards, they only come in my dreams, sorry, they are not dreams nor nightmares, they feel real, the darkness is there, it touches all of your body and takes over the mind.  I am in a sleep that I can’t awake up from, if I try they pull me back in.  In order to free myself, I need to wake up fully and force myself to pray, this works, but there were times in my life where nothing worked, until I remembered what had happened around 1960, it was a phenomena, not explainable, a miracle.
This miracle held me tight, though my grandfather advised me not to tell anyone lest they would think me crazy, I kept it to myself.  For a couple of years life in the village was grand, I did not mind being a poor peasant, as I had the church, my friends, the sun, flowers, forest, we had it made in that little village, it was like piece of heaven. We were a close knitted family, everyone looked out for each other.  But it was short, around the age of nine 1962 something terrible happened, think this is when they were able to manifest themselves in my life, including my family`s.  It was my older sister’s wedding, and my beautiful white pet chicken Bianca was chosen as one of the chickens that would be dinner at the wedding.  Bianca was well fed, I made sure of that, for this she was sacrificed.  I begged my mother not to kill her, no one listened to me, I held Bianca tight and looked up at the heavens begging to have her spared.  She trusted me, now I had to give her up from my grasp to the execution, I thought of running away into the woods with her, at the end I gave her up unwilling, my heart broken.  I fell into darkness and sinned, this is where the devil was able to easily make his way into my life.
 When I was 10 another incident happened which was horrible and changed me forever.   The year was  June 13, 1963, Thursday,  the beginning of the three day Feast of Corpus Domini.    All the young girls that had done their first communion the year before, would be allowed to wear their white communion dresses and go in front of  the procession to throw flowers from their baskets on the streets, followed by Mary’s statue and all the villagers.  The devil took me for his own that day and nearly ended my life.  I had a dream the night before, and woke up with a fear that something horrible was going to happen to me that day .  I stayed at my house until 12:00 PM, when all felt like there was no danger, I got the courage to go out and pick the flowers needed for the procession outside of the village.  After picking up the flowers with a friend, I ended up at her house around 2:00 PM, her father was not happy to see me and send me away, poor soul, he does not know what his actions caused.  It was still early so I started to nosy around in this house up the street, the door was open so I entered.   A young man whom I knew and was studying to be a priest, someone that I trusted, caught me in his room rummaging through his books, grabbed my ponytail and forced me in his room and locked the door behind him.  I fought hard to get away, I almost made it to the door and tried to unlock it, but he was stronger and threw me on the bed.  He put the pillow over my face and almost suffocated me, I was able to move the pillow slightly  to tell him not to kill me and that I would not fight back anymore.  I remember the air in the room was dry and hot.  The small window to my left was less then 4 inches open, the sun was streaming in, I just concentrated on that.  After what felt like forever, he got up and said “I am locking this room, you can’t get out, I will come back, kill you and throw your body over the rocks behind where the wolves will devour you”.
After he left the room, my brain was boiling with voices that kept urging me to get out, they were getting louder, so I tried the knob on the door, it was locked.  I went to the window, my head could not fit through it.  The voices in my head were getting louder urging me to try and force my head through the opening, so I kept trying.  Finally my head made it through, the rest of the body was easy as I was very thin.  Once on the ledge outside the window, I was trying to figure out how to get down, as it seemed I was over ten feet in the air, maybe more.  I saw the tree not far from the wall, so thought if I cold jump at it I’d make it.  As I tried, I felt a thorn on my chest, blood started to gush, the wall was stucco with long needles of hard clay, a couple had dug into my lower chest  At this point, I thought I was going to faint and ended up falling hanging to the wall.  I had miscalculated the tree, it was too far.  Now I found myself at the back of the village bleeding  and realized I had to run back home before he`d find me, at this point I am limping, the fall nearly broke my legs.  Then there was all this blood on me that I was trying to stop from getting all over my clothes, so I made my way back home by going on the backstreets where no one would notice me, the longest way.  I was afraid, embarrassed and did not want anyone to  know what had just happened to me, he was someone everyone respected I was just a dirty little child belonging to peasants.  I made it home, and in all this confusion, I still wanted to go to the procession.  I put on my white dress, it got stained with blood, so I put my regular drabs to see if I could still be in the procession.  I got there late, Mary’s statue and the children were way in front of me and I missed the procession that I had  been looking forward to all my life.  I remember going through the motions, it seemed like everyone was against me.  I remember throwing a bunch of flowers by my grandfather’s house, and two girls started to laugh at me and picked the flowers up, this hurt me.  I remember looking at Mother Mary`s statue in front of me and thinking she left me.  Still I wanted to make it to the church because I wanted to touch the statue and tell her what had happened to me.  In the lobby of the church there was  a great confusion it seemed, I never made it to Mary, I accidentally stepped in front of two old men, think they were the devil`s relatives, they started to scream at me, I felt so low and unnecessary that I left without saluting Mother, this also hurt me deeply.  When I made it home it was dark, I remembered that I had forgotten to feed the chickens, so I went to feed them.  I don`t know what got into the chickens, they went into a frenzy and as I tried to feed them, they were attacking me.  By now I was exhausted and bleeding profusely, so I went back into the house and went upstairs to try and stop the blood.  I vaguely remember hearing my mother`s voice downstairs, she had come back from working on the camp.  I peered my head on the stairs wanting to see if I could get the courage to tell her what happened, then saw how happy she was, laughing it up with the neighbors, at this point I had no courage left, so I went back upstairs, rolled into a ball and went into darkness.
The next day I tried to wash the blood stain off my white dress, I did not know that blood spreads, the dress was ruined, I did not want my mother to find it, so I hid it up the attic in a old suitcase, for all I know it could still be there today.  The blood would not stop, it took several days, I was weak losing blood, eventually it stopped.  I got the courage to go back to the church, the door of the basement was open.  As I peered in, HE was there laughing it up and playing with the younger boys.  I looked at him and two thoughts came to mind.  He was relieved that he did not have to kill me as I escaped and did not tell anyone AND that maybe this had happened to someone else, this thought sickened me.  I left the church never to go back, as I did not not want this man to get his hands on me again.  I vowed that if this where to happen again, I would defend myself to a greater degree if possible.  Some one did try, I dug my teeth into his hands and when he released his hold I banged my head on his face and ran away, from this day forth I rarely left my home.
In Dec 63 our family migrated to Canada, I loved and missed my village but was happy to get away.  Get away, that`s funny, I did not know that the Devil follows you everywhere.  Two years into this country my brother committed a crime of passion, our family and the other  family were ruined.  We became the most hated family in our new city and our village.
I married at almost 20 in 1974, sex, drugs and rock“n roll followed.  My husband was not a well man, he had been physically abused by his mother and a junkie at the time we met.  I thought I could change him, the next 44 years for me, sometimes was hell on earth, my husband was very abusive physically and verbally, the verbal abuse could go on for days.  When I was 45 I got breast cancer and life became more crazy as I started to fight back and things became worse.  We have two boys, my older is on the streets, all the years of abuse messed him up and have not been able to help him.  My younger son lives with me and well life goes on.
I went back to Italy in 87 for a holiday.  During the visit I asked what had happened to Angelo, I was told he was married with daughters.  Though originally I wanted to confront him, as I had a green belt at this point and had not problems defending myself.  Once I learned he had children, I did not want to upset the family, however I was concerned that if he had not changed, would he or could he hurt someone else.
These night  terrors will never go away, but I know that prayer, proper food intake and living a christian life makes a difference and will lessen their strength.  You see I don’t think it`s just demons, think it`s the ancient snake itself, wanting to destroy.  I am trying to get back on track with prayers, but am having a difficult time.  Someone suggested exorcism, no thank you, that is a great excuse for them to manifest themselves, better they hide in my dream nightmares like the cowards they are.
This is probably more then you asked for, but here it is.  I am attaching a picture of  “L’ Immacolata“ statue found in our church in Pisterzo, Italy.  This is not the statue during the procession of Corpus Domini in 1963.  This statue is old, ancient and is miraculous, usually found stored away in the basement of the Saint Michael Church.   She holds the key to my heart and soul, it is due to her that I am still here.  I should have died in 1963 in the hands of my captor, but for her and my guardian Angel I am still here.  Her words to me were “Lasciarle stare non ti crederanno“ meaning  “Leave them alone they won’t believe you”.   Though I tried to tell this story, no one believes me, so she was right.  However, the word “Lasciarle“is feminine, and since you are not perhaps it will touch you differently.
This statue miraculously changed to human form in front of my eyes, it is a paradox.  It was a special feast night, the whole village went to mass.  After mass, getting permission, I followed my sister and her friend to the old church where the older statues were kept as they were going to refresh the water for the flowers by the statue.  As I entered the room I felt the air change, the dust drizzled like glistening rain drops and stars, I was in awe.  What followed next is nothing short of a miracle, this would be another story.

Podcast: Steve Bannon and Pope Francis: It’s All So Tiresome

It really is tiresome. The media defends the pope despite the mess in the Church and the inaction on dealing with predator priests and homosexuality, and then tars his opposition by association with Steve Bannon, who is by all reports engaged in otherwise harmless work in a very conciliar/modernist institute in Italy.

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Guest Submission: Holy Week Reflection

Disclaimer: Guest articles represent the opinion of the author and do not necessarily reflect the opinions of this site owner or any affiliated staff.

by David Martin

Each year on Palm Sunday we commemorate Christ’s triumphant entry into Jerusalem when He cleansed the temple of the money changers and those who had sought to profane the temple with their worldly ways.

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