Instincts and More On The Eve of My Birthday

About two and a half weeks ago, I sensed a huge shift in evil and good in and over Malta and Europe. Something happened. This instinct is not based on the increased persecution of the Christians by the Muslims, nor the saber-rattling of the Russians, which have the Poles, Finns, and Lithuanians nervous.

God has allowed something to change, and we have been warned for a long time about the last, great tribulation of the Church.  He is removing His protective Hand and allowing Satan a time to sift us all.  I have written some fiction based on three days of visions I saw in the summer of 2008, some of which was verified by two other people, one who lived hundreds of miles away. As you know, I am not into private revelations, and believe that God merely inspires our imaginations. But, I was first warned by a small voice, in French, which is interesting. to pay attention to what was going to be shown to me over the next three days at the time. Again, details do not matter much, but as Hamlet said, "The readiness is all." When we see things like this, we are not adding to revelation, but being warned of what has already been revealed. There is no new revelation.

My novellas are partly base on those visions, which happened when I was wide awake, starting in the evening, moving into the night, and in the day time as well as into the night for three days. Twice I have had messages in French, which indicates something to me personally. I understand some simple things in French, my third language after English and Latin.

Since 2000, I warned my Catholic students that they were in the Age of the Martyrs. It has begun in earnest. If you think you can avoid suffering by moving somewhere, forget it. All the West will be engulfed by evil.

The reason why I want to stay in Europe is that this is part of my "destiny" as I cannot avoid suffering here. There are different kinds of suffering.

I do not need to go into detail and I am not infallible, nor a seer, but God showed me plainly in July, 2008, a series of happenings involving the States and the Western World. It does not matter what the details are, but the message was "get ready".

Now, many others see the same thing by watching politics and by paying attention. This is good, as we are rational creatures and need to use our brains.

2008 was seven years ago, and we have had time to do what we need to do to get ready for the greatest era of suffering the Church has ever seen.

The Church will be so weakened that only those who have a relationship with God the Father, the Son of God Christ and the Holy Spirit will keep the Faith. This is why I have written the perfection series, to help you all get holy, and ready for persecution.

Do not think America or Europe will emerge unscathed from the Wrath of God brought on, mostly by the millions of aborted babies crying out for justice. One other sin which cries out to God for vengeance, and I have written about this on the blog, is sodomy. If you do not believe me, here again, is the CCC note on this fact: 1867 The catechetical tradition also recalls that there are "sins that cry to heaven": the blood of Abel,¹³⁹ the sin of the Sodomites,¹⁴⁰ the cry of the people oppressed in Egypt,¹⁴¹ the cry of the foreigner, the widow, and the orphan,¹⁴² injustice to the wage earner.¹⁴³

Do not think that you will have access to Mass or the sacraments to keep you going. You will have to keep yourself going and this is why I have begged you to pod.

I cannot impress upon my readers enough the coming catastrophes. which God will permit for four reasons: one, to create saints for His Kingdom, two to bring about converts, three, to chastise us all, and four, to purify the Church.

I cannot count the ostrich photos on this blog or the number of posts on the stages of persecution. The Church has many, many enemies, both within and without.

Are you ready?

If not, get ready. We are heading for the Last Battle, which will not be short, but will result in the glory of God.

On The Apocalyptic Scriptures

As the Liturgical Year comes to an end, something is noticeable in the readings on Sunday and during the week. The reading become centered on three themes.

These are the days of tribulation and persecution; the end of the world and the final judgement; and the need for penance.

Advent continues with the call to repentance, especially in the words of St. John the Baptist.

But, in the weeks running up to Advent, we see the persistent themes noted above.

Why?

The end of the Liturgical Year is an appropriate time for reminders of the final judgement, end times, tribulation, persecution and penance. As the season of Autumn become more wintry, as cold and darkness set in, we are reminded of death, our death and the death of all mankind. We are reminded of our particular judgement and the final judgement.

Readings from Luke remind us of Christ's words on the end times.

Readings from the Apocalypse remind us of judgement.

Readings from the prophets warn us of the truths of Revelation that we shall be persecuted and judged.

These themes are not merely in this year of Luke, but are also found in the years of Mark and Matthew. The Church has always reminded us of persecution, judgment and death at this time of year, even in the Tridentine Calendar.

Indeed, as we move towards the great feast of Christ the King, this year on November 23rd, the last Sunday of the Church Year, we see this movement towards His Reign.

We are being asked to get prepared for the Kingdom of God. We are being asked to get ready for persecution, trials, the end of the world, the final judgement.

Get ready.

Novella Three Christine Part Eleven

One of Carl's calves lept in the late sunlight of a long May twilight. The calf bounded up and down the little hills on the far side of the loess hills. Golden clouds mirrored the golden hills as thin clouds raced across the sky moving towards the east. Several Black Angus stood in the cool copse of trees, worrying Scullery Maid, who did not like the intruders.

The long, long winter passed quickly once May came, and now the temperature soared to the eighties. Scullery Maid swished horse flies away with her long tail as she munched on the new green grass. In the distance, clouds of dust flew up into the air as a train of trucks rumbled down the gravel road at the edge of the farm, depositing new gravel for the summer. Uncle Jay once remarked that the county sure spent a lot of money on the four pick-up trucks and two cars one could see per week on the old road.

Uncle Jay walked slowly to Sunset Cottage. The door was locked and barred. Addie sniffed around the porch, but soon saw pheasants in the fields behind the little house and ran away chasing these majestic birds.

One flew up and for a minute, Uncle Jay wished he had his gun with him. But, then, it was not the right season for pheasant hunting and he was strict about his hunting practices. The only things one could kill at this time of year were spring turkeys and coyotes.

Uncle Jay opened the cottage latch, unlocking the bolt and went in. He looked around the walls as if searching for something. In Christine's old bedroom, on the duck-egg blue wall, he found the old painting of Lady Elizabeth Christine Magdalen Thatcham. Taking it off the wall, he wrapped it up in brown paper he had brought from the Big House and carried it out of the cottage. Then, he quietly and slowly locked up the cottage again. Addie, who had come back and followed Uncle Jay into the house came out with him but plopped down on the porch. The Sheltie looked up to Jay with its big eyes as if to say, "I am staying here for the rest of the day and you can't make me move. I just flushed out pheasants for you for no reason."

Uncle Jay left the dog there and walked back into the mud-room. Then, he changed his shoes, finally going into the kitchen, to the large stove to fix some coffee. He shook his head and used the matches to light the gas ring. One of these days, he thought, I shall have to clean out those holes.

Uncle Jay filled an old thermos full of the coffee, wrapped up the painting more securely in the brown paper, and went back to the mud-room, where he changed into his walking shoes.

Then, he slowly went in the direction of the cavern in the copse. He had grabbed his largest flashlight and a walking stick to use in the cave. In twenty minutes or so, Uncle Jay was standing in front of the iron lattice white gate, using the old key to open it up.  He laid the painting and thermos on a small table, moving slowly on the right to walk to the chapel. The chapel door was unlocked as there were three men praying the proper Liturgy of the Hours of the day. Fr. James, Tom, and Marcus said the prayers in antiphonal manner, in great reverence and calm. Uncle Jay knelt down in the last pew and joined them, after picking up an extra Breviary in the back when he walked in. In the cool air, the priest read the reading for the First Vespers of Sunday.

²² But be ye doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving your own selves.

²³ For if a man be a hearer of the word, and not a doer, he shall be compared to a man beholding his own countenance in a glass.

²⁴ For he beheld himself, and went his way, and presently forgot what manner of man he was.

Stay with us, Lord, alleluia. For it is getting towards evening, alleluia.

Then, Fr. James intoned a chant for the Magnificat anthem. 

Hitherto, you have not asked anything in My Name. Ask, and you shall receive. Alleluia.

The priest's thoughts went back to his discussion with Christine in January, when she confided her visions to him. He knew who was calling her by name. Christ wanted her for Himself, as His bride. She knew this as well, in the secret depth of her heart. Uncle Jay and Fr. James managed to take her to the nuns in Nebraska. Fr. James had never seen her so happy. She, indeed, looked like a young bride. She was accepted readily, despite being a year or so over the age limit. But, in the middle of her postulancy, in late April, soldiers broke into the convent and murdered all the nuns. There was an uproar, an investigation, but nothing happened to the perpetrators. Witnesses in the neighboring farm near the convent told other Catholics that the men were American Army soldiers. Some witnesses said the nuns were hiding priests, who were never found. My Lady, who had become, My Little Nun, was gone.

Fr. James added the name of Sr. Elizabeth Christine Magdalen to his list of souls for whom to pray in the back of his Breviary. But, the brother knew that the Church Militant hidden in the golden hills of Iowa was protected by a golden saint in heaven.

When he had the courage to do so, Fr. James looked up the history of Lady Elizabeth Christine Magdalen Thatcham. Here is what he read in an old book found in Iona's things in the small, tiny, attic of Sunset Cottage. Uncle Jay had known some books were there wrapped in paper, but had neglected to tell Christine. Some were from England and very old; in fact, crumbling into dust when one touched them.

Elizabeth Christine Magdalen Thatcham, Canoness of the Order of  the Dames of St. Augustine, former Lady Thatcham. Martyred in Walsingham along with the sub-prior of the said Priory of Walsingham, while visiting the Augustinians of that sacred place  April 30, 1537, in Martyrs' Field.

Novella Three Christine Part Ten

Fr. James' story was long and sad.

"The little parish sat in small town near Nevada, toward the south of the state. Weekly, about three hundred people, mostly young families, came to the Tridentine Mass I had there. The congregation seemed friendly and content. Then, on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, as I was driving up to the church with the family with which I had been staying, we saw four state police cars outside the main gate which leads into the church parking lot. Martin Lutin, my driver just kept going past the church as if he going someplace else, and no one who was standing outside looked up to see us go by.

Then, Martin pulled into a gas station and filled up his tank. He told me he would drop his little family back home and take me all the way up to the farm. We started up the main highway. Martin could see barriers in the distance, so he veered off into a side road and we drove until he practically ran out of gas near the border of Andrew County. He then called a friend of his, Charlie Manly, who has a farm near the county line to bring him gas and food. We waited only a half hour for Charlie. Then, Charlie gave us some bad news. All the people who had been at the church already had been taken in for questioning as to the whereabouts of the visiting priest. Martin's wife called Charlie and told him that she wanted Martin back as soon as possible. Then, Mrs. Lutin told Charlie that I should not come back, ever.

We three discussed what to do. Charlie has a sister in Maryville and he offered to take me a bit out of the way and told me to stay there for a few weeks before making my way back to the hills and the farm.

This I did, staying with one of the bravest women I have ever met, who pretended I was a long lost brother from the past. I waited until after Christmas, and then, I just walked the rest of the way. I must have traveled over 600 miles. But, here I am. I can never go back to the Nevada area and I have no idea where all those good people are today."

Uncle Jay, who was up and fixing food again, nodded. "You are going nowhere. Your bishop made a mistake to put you in such an obvious place. But, does anyone know where you are from?"

Father James answered no and all in the room sighed.  "But, I am having problems with my feet," noted Fr. James. "I think I have frostbite in some of the toes."

Uncle Jay went into action. He knew something about frostbite, having helped John years ago with two fingers.

Fr. James patiently let Uncle Jay attend to his feet, which looked bad, indeed. Christine actually felt sick looking at the black toes.

"You will be alright. This is topical damage and some skin will peel off, but don't worry. I can make something out of horsetail as a remedy. Here have some coffee and wait a bit."

Christine sat down next to Fr. James. She was beginning to have little sister adoration for her brave brother. She knew that what he had to endure hinted at more and even worse to come. She decided to talk about her "visions" later. They would have enough time.

Uncle Jay spoke softly, "Fr. James, I want you to move into the cavern house for a month or so, just in case. There are enough provisions for four months at least. You need to seem dead to the world right now."

Fr. James laughed, "Well, I sure could sleep like the dead tonight. I am bushed. But, before I go into hiding, I want to talk to My Lady for a bit, in private, so can I hobble over to the cottage or do you want me to stay here?"

Uncle Jay said he would wrap up the feet in cloth soaked in hazel. Fr. James could wear old Sam's gigantic boots over the cloths. Then, Uncle Jay said he would bring sage tea to both of them over in the cottage.

Christine led the injured priest to Sunset Cottage and Addie decided to brave the snow and join them in the tiny rooms there.

Once in the cottage, Fr. James added to the story, "Do not tell Uncle Jay this, but some people were shot at the church. I did not want to cause him distress. Three men were wounded or died to distract the sheriff's men from our car. We are in the age of martyrs, My Lady."

Christine put her hands on her lap. "I know this, Fr. James, I know this." The two became silent for many minutes, then Uncle Jay came in with the sage tea. "I think you should go over to the cave before the next snow, which is supposed to happen tonight. I shall come back for you in an hour."

Leaving the mugs and pot on the small table, Uncle Jay walked back to the Big House. Addie stayed with the brother and sister. Then, Christine asked if she could share something she needed discernment about-her two visions and the person calling her name. Fr. James encouraged her to share all the details. After Christine  told him the calls she had heard, Fr. James became pensive. Then, he began to tell her what he discerned about the visions.

to be continued...

Novella Three Christine Part Nine

Christmas brought about illness in the Big House. Uncle Jay, Sam and Tom came down with some sort of flu. Christine and Marcus were busy playing nurses for those three. Fr. James had received a letter from the Bishop of Kansas City-St. Joseph via a person who hand delivered it at the door of the Big House right after Thanksgiving, calling the new priest to work in a parish of 300 people in southern Missouri.

Fr. James had consecrated Hosts for the family, blessed holy water and other sacramentals and promised a visit after Christmas. But, the denial of Mass and confession wore on the small band of Catholics. They prayed the rosary together daily. Fr. James was also missed in the fields and in the farm buildings. His strong hands made up for the aging ones of the old helpers. Tom's birthday on December 10th introduced him to his seventieth year. And Sam, who turned seventy-two on November 29th, seemed years younger than Tom.

Marcus was the "young' un" at a cool sixty-five, while the patriarch, Uncle Jay, cleared eighty the April before. Marcus and Christine had decorated a tree while the others were down sick. They had gathered small gifts for each man, like a new Nebraska hat for Jay, and a new shirt for Tom. Sam's present, pipe tobacco, lay unopened, as he was too ill to pay attention to it.

Christine marveled at the strength of body, mind and character of these four men. She knew that she would never see their likes again when they moved on to God's place for them. "Her" Michael had been cut from another die. His world consisted of business and urbanity. Maybe that is why she had been attracted to him in the first place, as he was so different from the rest of her family. But, now her world became the farm again, with Christine finding new skills for helping around the Big House. She knew how to sew and to cook, which helped Uncle Jay make time for the farm work now that Fr. James had left.

Christine felt the lack of Fr. James keenly, not only because he was her brother, but because he was of her generation. They shared many unspoken experiences and customs not shared with the older ones, four of whom would be Christine's parents' ages, if they had still been alive.

The day after Christmas came and then the next, followed by heavy snow for a week, and finally the beginning of the new year. No word came from the south of the state where Fr. James worked. Christine would slip out of the house and go to the cavern chapel to pray for him. She said over and over to God, "Thy will be done."

On January 4th, Sam died of pneumonia from complications of the flu. The doctor had come in through the snow and ice merely to declare him to far advanced to move or to live. Sam had been on the farm for over fifty years, and all felt his loss like that of a blood brother. Sam, Tom and Marcus were cousins, the only Brunderbergs left besides Uncle Jay, Fr James and Christine. The young woman watched the dying out of her family with a strange interest. She had never thought of families just ending, but here was proof that the Brunderberg line from Adam was disappearing into history. Objectively, Christine could see how the unmarried men led to this silent passing of a name. Subjectively, she felt a bit guilty that she had no children of her own to carry on at least some of the genes and blood.

This afternoon, the day after Sam's funeral in ______City, Christine tromped through the snow to the small stable to feed and water Scullery Maid. This had been Sam's job, as he had raised the horse from a colt. The mare seemed mopey, so Christine spoke gently to her and combed her long hair. While in the stable, Christine thought she heard a voice call her name softly. She looked up and saw no one. Then, she saw a strange scene, like a movie in front of her, superimposed on the wall. Someone was walking on a cliff by the sea and someone was calling her name.

Christine had seen this "vision" before, but could not make out who was calling her. Someone needed her, but she could not see a face. In fact, she only saw the shoes of someone on the cliff, as if she was in the place of the caller.

Christine stopped combing Scullery Maid and said a short prayer. "God, whoever this is who is calling my name, bless them. I do not know what to do but pray."

Then, she picked up the two empty pails and trudged through the snow back to the Big House. At four in the afternoon, darkness had swallowed up the farm, but the yellow lights of the kitchen beckoned like a beacon over a cold, white sea.

Christine then heard a voice she knew and loved. Fr. James had come home. Maybe he could explain her strange vision of the unknown person asking her for help. But, she wondered, why was he back so soon, less than a month after being assigned to that parish several hours south of the farm? Christine could hardly wait to see him, and she practically ran into the mud-room, tripping over Addie, who slept on the ledge between the door and the porch.

to be continued....

Novella Three Christine Part Eight

The Ordination Mass seemed to be a dream to Christine. Uncle Jay, Tom, Marcus and Sam sat in the small pews, looking like giants in a nursery. Christine did not realize how small the dimensions of the chapel were until the men came in earlier. This place would only hold maybe twenty people, but the large room could hold a hundred.

Father James turned to the group and all the men went up to the Communion rail to kiss his hands. He blessed each one individually as well. Christine felt prouder than ever. She could hardly contain her newfound joy when looking at Father James.

The small group ate a small dinner with Bishop Seamus in the large room and then dispersed. Uncle Jay knew that Bishop Seamus' heart could not take the stress of being in hiding. Jay wanted to bring the Bishop back to the Big House, but he was overruled by all the others. Bishop Seamus asked them to come back in the evening. Christine promised another hot meal. Bishop Seamus had given Father James permission never to wear blacks unless he knew he was facing death. "Then, do what you want to do, Father." Bishop Seamus said he needed some rest, and they all left. Father James followed up in the rear, ever watchful. Christine could trust her soldier-priest.

At the Big House, Uncle Jay decided to listen to the news. The main stations came out of Omaha. He wanted any news, today.  He heard what he wanted to hear. All the Catholic churches and some Protestant ones in Omaha were now closed. All the priests and dissenting ministers had either disappeared or been put into jail. The Bishop of the diocese was missing. The governor of the state of Nebraska had signed a bill authorizing the use of firing squads for the death penalty. The University of Nebraska football team has won another game.

The newscaster exclaimed that this was a day of freedom for all who had suffered under the prejudices of the Catholic Church, called one of the most evil institutions of the 21st century and now becoming extinct in the Land of the Free. Uncle Jay turned off the switch.

He wondered how long they could stay here having the Mass and the sacraments. Fancy going to Confession to your nephew, he chuckled.

At about seven in the evening, as it was already dark, Tom escorted Christine to the cave with the hot food. As they walked, a huge buzzard with a four foot wing-span flew past them. Not a good omen, thought Tom.

They were cautious and did not speak in the fields or woods or the copse. Finally, down in large room, they sought out the Bishop. Indeed, they found him on the floor of the dark chapel. The good, old priest was dead. Christine gratefully thanked God that the Bishop died in the chapel from natural causes, his old worn-out heart taking him from the earth, and not a firing squad. Tom picked up the small body and carefully, after Christine finished locking up everything in the cave, took the Bishop back to the Big House. There, in the dark, Father James anointed him, just in case, and before dawn, Marcus had  buried the body in a secret corner of the far woods, as far away from the cavern as possible. That night, the first snow covered the farm and the place of burial. No one would notice the newly turned ground now. The inhabitants of the Big House said a rosary together. Father James announced that he would hear confessions later in the morning, before work began. He would work alongside the men. Then, they trailed off to their beds.

Christine ate the hot meal herself, and with Addie at her heels, went back to the cottage for the night. She wondered if there were any bishops left in the three state area. She wondered if there would ever be any ordinations in the area for years to come. Such were the thoughts of the descendant of a remnant, recusant Lady, thoughts which most likely echoed back to similar thoughts in 1581.

Novella Three Christine Part Six

Christine had work to do. Her job at the insurance company in Kansas City has ended abruptly. The company did not want to give her any more time off, and she knew she could not go back as of yet. Her wrist was taking a long time healing. Now, she was looking for another job on line, but nothing was "coming up."

Uncle Jay had sold well this year. Father Corrigan had moved into the Big House, with the understanding that if things got really bad, he would move to the underground apartment. All Jay's men were Catholic and fully supported the priest in hiding. Sam made a vow to protect the priest with his life. This made Christine really nervous.

Just as Jay had predicted, the Supreme Court decision caused the closing of fifty percent of the churches in the Midwest. Most bishops had been fined for refusing to have their priests cooperate with the new ruling, and two bishops were actually under house arrest, including the bishop of Kansas City-St. Joseph. Christine watched the farm settle into autumn, and then early winter. In the beginning of November, James showed up in the kitchen one morning when Christine walked in for breakfast.

"Hey, Lady, you look great." He gave his sister a big bear hug. James looked ten years younger than his age. He was one of these guys who was always upbeat and energetic. He would always be "boyish".

"Have some grits, eggs and coffee and I shall tell you a story." He pulled out a chair for Christine. Addie, of course, begged.

"Go away, Addie, this is private," James laughed.

But the dog plopped down under the table near Christine's feet.

"Now, Lady, two years ago, when I was stationed in Israel, something wonderful happened. Guess what?"

"You met a girl, finally, " said Christine between bites of toast.

"Nope, I fell in love with God in a new way. I am going to study for the priesthood."

Christine stared at her older brother. She was scared. "Not now, James, not with all the churches closing and Fr. Corrigan here in hiding."

"You mean Bishop Corrigan, My Lady."  James sat on the chair backwards, with his hands on the top of the rounded back.

"Bishop?" Christine put down her fork. "Yeppie, he is the new bishop, auxiliary, because the other one is in jail." James spoke as if such things were normal, expected.

Christine just stared. She could not say anything. James laughed, "Well, I never thought I would see you so dumb-struck. I can study under him privately and when he thinks I am ready, Bishop Seamus Corrigan will ordain me, even right here in the chapel. So, what do you think?"

"I think you are crazy and foolhardy," she said. "You will get killed."

James poured out more coffee for the two of them. "Maybe, maybe not. Priest have survived worst times."

"But, you are, I mean, you are older than I am." Christine began to fish for excuses.

"Age does not matter anymore, Lady. You can see that."

Both siblings dropped into their own thoughts. Christine felt like she had to rest in silence.

She wanted to ask James many questions about his spiritual experience in Israel, but she could not.

He offered some hints. "I was standing in the Garden of Gethsemane, Lady, and I had my Bible. I decided to read the part about Christ in the Garden, the Agony in the Garden, when suddenly I felt this tremendous love. I mean, I was overwhelmed by peace and love. I knew I had to do whatever Christ asked of me."

James paused. He was watching Christine's face. "Then, I met some Franciscan priests at the Church of the Holy Sepulcher. I talked to one every day I was in Jerusalem, which was six weeks. At the end, I knew what I had to do. Be a priest, one told me, and I knew he was absolutely right."

Christine looked at James. She had never seen him happier or, well, so mature. He seemed more manly than she had ever known him to be. His decisiveness convinced her. "I understand and I am happy for you, but I am also afraid for you, James."

"I know, Lady, but pray for me. Things will be OK."

Jay came into the kitchen after changing his shoes. He came over and shook James' hand. No one said anything for a moment. "I could use some help in the barn, today James. One of the beams needs replacing."

"Sure, Uncle. It would be great to do some hard work."

Christine said goodbye and went back to Sunset Cottage. She went into her bedroom and lay on the bed. She wanted to cry, but could not. Things were happening too fast, too roughly for her sensitive spirit. She rolled over on one side and saw the painting of Lady Elizabeth Christine Magdalen Thatcham.

Christine sighed. She figured that she had a new vocation as well. She did not have to apply for jobs... she had one in the making.

Suddenly, she felt tired. She fell asleep and in a dream she saw people in the underground house, priests, deacons, subdeacons, with candles, walking past beautiful statues, and columns with flower arrangments. In the midst of the chapel, Christ sat with His Head in His Hands, praying, weeping, as in the Garden of Gethsemane. She knew He had wept for His Church and those who hated the Church and Her priests.

More people came and filled the cavern room. Bishop Seamus was saying the Tridentine Mass and then, she saw James, assisting, as a priest.

A chant grew, surrounding all with joy and sorrow mixed. The suffering Christ was in their midst. But, all were raising their voices in praise for the Mass, for the Real Presence.

Christine saw Fr. James put the Host in a Monstrance and from the Host flowed peace and love.

She slept, and when she awoke, for the first time in months, Christine felt no pain in her wrist.

She knew she was healed. She knew she could be strong. Addie jumped up next to her, and as she petted the dog, Christine heard the call for dinner.

to be continued...

Novella Three Christine Part Five

Christine woke up with a start. Addie lie next the bed on the floor on a small rug. The young women realized that she had been dreaming. She looked at the clock. It was two in the morning. Wrapping up in a black robe, Christine opened the only door to the cottage and stood on the small porch. Thousands of stars shone out of the dark sky. The usual late August haze had lifted and the sky was clear. Addie came up behind Christine, like the good guard dog it was. She bent down and petted its head. Addie followed Christine into the yard. She could not believe the number of stars. Yet, her attention was brought back to her dream. She shuddered a bit and walked back to sit own on the porch rocker for a bit. Addie followed her and curled up at her feet. Immediately, the dog fell asleep.

Christine could not understand why she had dreamt of Michael after all these years. She did not even know where he lived now. The last letter she had received from him, or rather, an email, indicated that he was living in Germany with an old friend. He wrote that he would never see her again, as his old friend was female. Christine had put him out of her mind until tonight. How odd that he would seem so real to her in this dream. They were together again and in Sicily, where they had become engaged. They were walking in the rocky semi-desert land which lay behind Michael's new farm near Enna. He planned to turn it into a holiday farmhouse, but live there part of the year. The two were making plans when Christine found out about the "other woman".

Christine looked up at the sky again, but the sky was silent. No messages from God, or Michael or anyone called from the depths of the Milky Way. She turned back into the house, again, followed by Addie. The dog had awakened as soon as she stood up.

In her bedroom, Christine said three Hail Marys for her old flame. Then, she laid down and fell immediately asleep. Addie curled up on the floor again.

Christine fell into another dream. This time, she was not in the dream, but saw Michael walking on a small cliff by the sea. He was calling out to her.

She woke up again and decided to say a rosary. Perhaps he was in trouble somewhere. After all, he was her brother in Christ. Christine fell asleep again before finishing the fifth decade. Her soul felt strangely moved by the dreams.

The next morning, after a huge breakfast and after the men were in the fields again, Uncle Jay gathered up ropes and lanterns. "One should always be prepared," he noted. He grabbed two large flashlights, and a thermos of water.

"I would like to show you all the rooms plus the chapel," he said as the two walked the short distance to the copse. Scullery Maid was not under the trees this morning. The goldfinches were gone for the season, as many birds were leaving the area, both in noisy flocks and silently.

Christine and Jay walked to the larger of the two openings. Jay led the way and helped Christine, who was not as agile with her injury. Then, they began the long climb down. Christine noticed that here and there in the wall on one side hand-sized iron "handles" for handing on to had been driven into the sides.

After about fifteen minutes, with Jay leading with the largest flashlight, the two entered a huge underground cavern. Then, Christine saw something she would not have believed possible.  In the cool air, a gate of white lattice work made out of some type of metal filled a large hole, making it into a gate to the room. This gate spanned a natural rock arch, through which one could see a room furnished like a house of sorts. Jay took out a large key and opened the gate. The two walked into a magical setting of white iron lattice work which resembled the ruins of an English abbey. This workmanship surrounded the open area, which included wooden, iron, and wicker chairs, tables, armoires, small cabinets, and boxes the size of chests.

Jay cautioned Christine to walk on the right side of the room as they were entering another room to the right, a room slightly lower and down a stone ramp. One entered this smaller room through another stone arch guarded by another white iron gate. Jay unlocked that gate and the two stepped into the chapel.

Christine gasped. There, before her, was a complete chapel in the French style, with a rounded back, which was hidden by the free standing wooden reredos carved with vines and wheat sheafs. The chapel lacked nothing, and every was in place for Mass.

Credence tables, golden candlesticks, Mass cards, were all in place.

Then, Jay beckoned her to go to yet another room to the left of the chapel. He opened a small wooden door and stood to the side. In that smallish room was an apartment for a priest, complete with vestments hanging in another armoire, breviaries, and other books.

Christine could not believe it, but there was a complete set of the Summa in Latin on top of a large chest of drawers. A bookcase held many of the writings of St. Augustine and other Doctors of the Church. Christine sat down on a wooden chair.

"Did you do all of this, Uncle Jay?"  Jay paused a moment. "No, your father did most of this, but I helped. It was all the idea of John and Iona. They had something in mind."

The two grew silent in their own thoughts. Christine stood up. "Can we see the streams?" Jay led her back to the main room, locking doors behind him. There in the middle of the huge cavern room, two streams burbled out of the rock. In the back, a waterfall fell into a pool. Yet, the air was dry, and no mold or dampness touched any of the items. It was as if the entire place had perfect temperature and humidity control.

Christine had seen all she wanted to see. Her mind could not take in the wonder of the place or the planning behind this oasis of peace and security. Jay and she walked through the gate which Jay locked and climbed up the rough stairs. Addie was waiting at the opening of the cave, and Scullery Maid was eating grass in the copse. But, Christine had a hard time adjusting to the reality of the "upper world". She felt like she had been awake in a dream.

"What is this all for, Uncle Jay," she asked, timidly.

"Hard times ahead, I think, which are coming soon." He said nothing until they walked back to the Big House and sat down for coffee. Christine could not understand what hard times Uncle Jay meant.

She waited, as she knew he would tell her."Iona and John saw the signs of the times. They both felt that the Church would not be tolerated in another one or two generations. So, they started to gather things for an underground church. They thought, maybe, priests would have to hide and say Mass in private sort of."

Jay got up for a cookie tin. He laid it on the table. Addie begged for a dog biscuit.

"The Supreme Court has decided, finally, that all ministers and priests have to abide by federal laws regarding marriages. Anyone can get married to anyone and no cleric can say no. Iona and John did not know what would cause the crisis, but they wanted to be ready for it. I have already spoken with Father Corrigan at the Latin Mass parish, which will be closed after next Sunday. He will come here. He is too old to change and he is a good priest."

"You mean he will live here?" Christine felt a cold shock.

"Yes, and no one will know except the men and us."

"And James?"

Jay said of course, and drank his coffee. "It is a stop-gap solution, I know, but better than nothing. The bishop will not cooperate with the feds and will probably be arrested or fined or both. This has already happened in Nebraska in one diocese. The entire seminary at Denton is empty of priests and seminarians who are all in hiding."

Christine could not take all this news in..."How do you know all of this, Uncle?"

"I helped move them with the men and don't you go asking me where they are, because I won't tell you."

Christine realized how stupid she had been. She knew that her time in the hospital had kept here away from many newsy events. But, this news caused her to suddenly feel old.

Jay washed the mugs and gave Addie another biscuit. "I do not want to get you involved for your own safety. What you do not know won't hurt you. Now, I have to go out and meet Sam about the wheat sale tomorrow. I shall see you at dinner."

Christine felt more love for Uncle Jay than she could express. She merely went over and kissed his old forehead.

"I know. I know," he said and patted her good hand.

to be continued....

Novella Three Christine Part Four

Five days later, the evening sky painted a yellow line above the black line of the horizon. Addie and Christine sat on the tiny porch in front of the cottage. The men had been super busy with business and crops, giving Christine time to read and rest. She could not write, yet. but she could study and pray. She had also heard from James, via snail mail, that he would be arriving soon to see her and Uncle Jay. He had a secret to share, he wrote. Christine wondered if he had finally decided to get married, but at his age, of forty-seven, she thought that would be difficult.

The yellow sky matched the hue of the golden hills Christine could just make out in the distance. She knew each hill, each little hidden vale and each stream. She loved the gorse bushes Iona had planted almost a half century ago, which also bloomed yellow. In fact, the cottage had been named, "Sunset Cottage" after the golden colors of the farmlands and sky. Also, as both Jay and Iona had known she would die there, the reference to the sunset of her brief life seemed apt.

Christine, as a young girl, wanted to rename it Sunrise Cottage, but Uncle Jay said "No."

Christine's favorite colors were sunrise and sunset colors, especially the pinky orange and duck-egg blue. In fact, she had decorated the inside of the cottage, with permission from Uncle Jay, who did not mind, in those colors. Her tiny rooms looked like old photographs from England of the dawn and dusk of her ancestors from East Anglia. She had been named after an ancestor, Elizabeth Christine Magdalen Thatcham, a lady from Ipswich, who hid priests in recusant times. Christine thought of the strange connection to Uncle Jay's underground chapel, which she still had not seen, and old Lady Elizabeth's vocation of saving priests.

Christine's German ancestors had not been from the same class as the Thatchams. The Brunderbergs and the Grosemans had come from farm-stock in Bavaria. But, American was the old melting pot, wherein those high and those low could fall in love and make new families of sturdy people.

Iona's family had also come from England, from Cornwall, all staunch Methodists, until she converted.

The Brunderbergs had died out, as Jay had no children and James was not married. The line was ending with Christine's generation. The Grosemans had done better and Christine has thirty-one cousins scattered across the Midwest, mostly in Kansas City. but they were not close. .

The Thatchams were also dying out. There was one older man still in England, a second cousin once removed to somebody, but he had never married. Once, as teenagers, after her high school graduation, James and Christine had traveled to England and found old Edward Thatcham in Eye, Suffolk. He showed them old papers and photos of the Thatchams, and gave Christine a beautiful old painting of Lady Elizabeth. It was worth a mint, Old Edward, as they all called him, remarked, but it was in Christine's bedroom, on the duck-egg blue wall. Christine did look like her ancestor. James,     from that trip, gave Christine the nickname of "Lady" and it stuck. James even addressed his letters to "Lady" instead of Christine.

Old Edward died the next year and his estate went to a person unknown to the family. Christine rejoiced in having the painting.

Addie, curled up in a crescent at Christine's feet, actually snored. The yellow line of sky changed to turquoise blue. The night would be calm.  Uncle Jay came over to the porch. It was now dark.

"Do you want to look inside the cave house tomorrow, Christine? I have time in the morning."

"Sure," she replied eagerly.

And, he walked back to the Big House.  Christine nudged Addie and the dog followed her inside. She wanted to think about tomorrow and savor the moment of anticipation.

to be continued....

Novella Three Christine Part Three

"We found the stairs in 1985 because of a note in Iona's dad's diary. Your grandfather John had made the stairs and set up rooms in the caves in 1945 when he got back from Japan. He wanted shelters in case of a nuclear war. In the fifties, people were building bomb shelters in some parts of the country, but John had his own caves.  Iona was born in 1939, so she did not know about the cave rooms until we found the diary after Grandpa John died in 1974, and, as you know, Grandma had died long before that of cancer, after your dad was born.  Well, Iona and I decided to go down into the caves and check out the rooms."

Uncle Jay ate another ham sandwich. His whole wheat bread, made from his own wheat, graced the table.

"We both were shocked at what we found-a complete underground house, with furniture, clothing, gas lights, and provisions to last ten years or more. Everything needed for survival filled the many shelves of the pantries. Ten people would easily live in the cave rooms comfortably. But, the most astounding thing of all was an underground fresh water stream. It was like God had put together a place for emergencies."

Christine poured water for both of them. Uncle Jay had many streams on his thousand acres, and the water was good and clear.

"Then, Iona got this idea. She was convinced that hard times were coming for the Church, so she asked me if  we could add a little chapel in the cave rooms, where the air was fresh. At that time, she was really ill and failing, so I wanted her to have everything she asked for..and she only wanted the chapel. So, I built an altar, and carved a small wooden reredos in a wine and wheat pattern, collected vestments when the small churches closed like dominoes in this diocese, and even got altar ware. Then, we asked old Father Simon from St. Joseph to come up and bless our little chapel. There was no bishop then, as one had died and we were waiting for the other new one."

"So, there is a bona fide chapel under the ground, in the cave house."

Christine looked at Uncle Jay. She knew he was pious, but this story showed him to be more than pious. He was prophetic. Or, at least Aunt Iona had been.

"No one knows of this except James and the men, who are all Catholic now, after Sam finally converted. We had Mass down there once on the twentieth anniversary of Iona's death-a real "black Mass".

Uncle Jay stopped talking. Christine felt as if they had traveled back in time to the days of persecution in Europe, when her German ancestors in Bavaria fought for the one, true Church, and when her English ancestors had either perished or maintained safe houses in East Anglia.

She looked down at the red and white aging yellow pvc tablecloth. Uncle Jay seemed like a prophet from older times, and the air in the room seemed like it whispered of ancient days when Catholics gathered around  houses safe for Mass.

A barn owl hooted in the distance as darkness covered the land. Christine loved the night, and she had planned on taking out her large telescope, to set it up on the permanent base Uncle Jay had made for her years ago. But, indeed, a storm was moving in fast.

Large raindrops hit the windows and Christine got up to close them clumsily with her bandage hand and wrist. "Let me do that," said Uncle Jay quietly. Sam came up to the back porch.

"Jay, I am moving Scullery Maid into the barn. This is going to be a whopper."

Jay nodded. "And, what about the milk-cow?"

Sam answered while practically running away, "Sarah's in the barn already."

Sarah was the only cow on the farm. Years ago, Jay had been talked into a herd of Black Angus, but he did not like tending to them, so he just rented out space to the neighbor down the road, to the agent Carl Link, whose cows ate Jay's field grass.

It would be Carl's duty to bring in the cattle, but rarely in storms did he do so. He mostly let them stay out and find trees for shelter. Jay did not like this arrangement, as he felt for the cattle, but these beasts would be sold within the next two weeks anyway. Not his business to keep them dry.

Lightning lit up the western sky, as Jay finished closing the windows. He could just make out Sam leading the horse into the barn out back. The other men had come in and were moving into the part of the house which was built like a large dorm. All the men stayed on the farm all year round, which was unusual these days, as most workers liked to live with their own families in _____City, but Jay's men were too old to change.

Besides, they were all related and good buddies. Christine's room was not in the farmhouse, but in a little cottage Jay had built for Iona in the year she was dying so that she did not have to walk up the steps to the main bedroom. Aunt Iona had died in the room Christine used, but the young woman did not mind. Iona had been a living saint, as everyone had said at her funeral, the biggest ever in _____City. Christine loved the little cottage and had decorated it to suit her tastes. Uncle Jay basically gave it to her for privacy.

"Maybe you should stay in the Big House until we know is the storm is going to be really bad. As you know, the cottage has no basement." Uncle Jay was thinking of the microburst, or the opposite, a tornado.

"Uncle Jay, you know I have stayed in the cottage in storms before tonight. Please do not worry."

"Well, take the portable weather radio and if there is a warning, you get back here pronto."

Christine smiled. She had lived through five tornadoes and understood the routine. All the men now crowded into the kitchen with their "inside shoes" on and were taking drinks out of the fridge.

"We can talk more tomorrow, Christine. The men and I have to discuss farm stuff."

That was the signal to leave. Christine left her inside slippers on the rack and put her heavy shoes back on. Just then, Addie, the farm dog, a large Sheltie, ran up into the mud-room. It licked at Christine's unbandaged hand as she tied her shoes. "Addie is back, Uncle Jay."

Jay shouted back, "Good thing, He has been gone all day. Take him with you."

"Come on, Addie, come with me," said Christine softly, as she loved this dog.

And the dog followed her to the cottage, as the rain pelted down on the farm.

To be continued....

Novella Three Christine Part Two

Blackbirds still sang in the dusk, and this evening's dusk covered the sky in glorious shades of purple, orange with duck-egg blue peeking out between the clouds. Soon, it would rain again, as some of the clouds in the west were "mackerel sky-not long wet, not long dry." Christine carefully walked up the wooden steps into the mud-room, sat on a small stool and took off her walking shoes. Uncle Jay had always been particular about his men and all guests not walking into the kitchen with "outside shoes". Everyone who visited had a special pair of inside shoes on a shoe-rack in the mud-room. Christine's were red slippers brought back from Japan years ago by James, when his stay there in the air-force ended. That was in 2019, the year after the Chino-Russian War, which had ended in a truce. An over-enthusiastic Chinese general had decided to invade Russia in Kyrgyzstan, opening up over a century of border disputes and diverting Russia's attention from taking over Lithuania and Poland again in the west. The war continued for two years, with one huge nuclear accident, causing the death of thousands of Chinese soldiers, virtually ending the war. American forces gathered in eastern Europe for the possible take-over by Russian of the old Soviet territories, moved as far east as possible during the conflict, but wisely stayed out of the war.

Deaths from both sides were estimated at 200,000, owing to the nuclear mishap, and China slunk back east, licking wounds and facing terrible financial depression, which ended all Chinese wealth across the world. James had been sent to Japan, just in case, as it were. But, Japan managed to stay out of any conflicts.

Christine walked into the large kitchen just as Marcus, Sam and Tom were leaving the table. These were Uncle Jay's "men", who had worked for him since Christine was a little girl. "Hi, kiddo," greeted Sam. "Blackbirds are leaving already. We are in for a cold winter. Saw flocks of geese flying south today, a full two months early." Sam bent over the table for one more sticky bun and left the room, not waiting for the young woman's reply. The three men had work to do. Christine knew the routine.

Uncle Jay did all the cooking since he lost his cook five years ago. Marianne had been a great cook, but even at the age of fifty-five, she "got up and got married" to a man from Omaha. Jay decided he could do just as well, and did. His fried chicken was famous, and he even won some blue ribbons for pies at the county fair. Jay loved to cook and his men loved to eat, so everyone was happy.

Tonight, as it was Saturday, and Jay always began Sunday brunch the night before, the meal was made up of left-overs from Thursday. Ham, potatoes, kale and lettuce salad, green beans and sticky buns for dessert served with love and care suited Christine just fine. She noticed that the wind had picked up and that maybe a storm was moving into the area.

Jay read her mind, "Storm warnings in this county until eleven." He added. "I am glad the men got the wheat in today."

Christine understood. Last year, a rare wind shear activity, a microburst, has ruined most of Jay's wheat. He had insurance, of course, but such things are a tragedy for hard-working men who rejoice in the harvest. Jay lost twenty-plus trees in the microburst, which is why the copse became almost mythical to both Christine and the uncle.

But, the early wheat harvest had begun, as Jay would begin planting winter wheat two weeks into September, or earlier this year, if the cold was settling in early. Jay's Protestant ancestors had brought winter wheat from Germany. When his father converted to Catholicism, those neighbors came over and wished him well, but never talked to him again. Those days were gone, as most of the farms around Jay were owned by corporations. Jay only knew the agents, and not the owners. In fact, one farm, about sixteen miles away, had been owned by a Chinese businessman who went broke in the war. Now, it belonged to another, American corporation. Jay knew his farm was a rarity.

Jay's heritage farm was the pride and joy of many families in the county, who could still remember the old family farms and were grateful for the one left. Christine was proud as well, and grateful, as well, that James was going to take over soon. Continuity was important to this family, in farming and in religion.

Uncle Jay drove twelve miles every Sunday to the only Tridentine Mass in the county. Most of the parishes were run by a rather liberal order, and Jay needed his "fix", as he said, of good, old time religion. James, too, was a Latin Mass person. The Latin Mass was not advertised, although most local people knew about it. It was a "secret". Christine could not get to one in the city where she had lived until her accident, but she wanted to learn about the most beautiful thing in the world, the Tridentine Mass. But, that is part of this story...

Novella Three-Christine

Christine walked slowly, with deliberation over her uncle's hills, the golden hills of loess, near ____City in Western Iowa. The hills nestled between two sets of large flatlands, where her uncle tended the heritage farm. Christine was visiting, two weeks into a six week period where she could not work. She had fallen off Scullery Maid and broke her right wrist. For a writer, this accident caused a great difficulty. Christine had to take time off for two operations and now, the rest of the four weeks of healing, as the bones had not set correctly, had to be re-broken and set again.

She tried to forget the pain. Today, the sunshine made the hills look even more golden and flocks of geese moved towards Kansas and Missouri, flying ever more south for the seasonal changes.

Christine watched cattle on the hillside, and made a mental note that these great beasts' days were numbered. Autumn would fall upon the area within weeks, leaving bare hillocks, those of the green grass the cattle favored.

Even today, a cooler wind brushed up against Christine's face. The swallows would soon leave, and the night jars, a sign of summer, would move southwards as well. This year, a frost could come earlier than the date written in The Farmer's Almanac. Christine brushed blond hair away from her face and walked towards Scullery Maid's field. The horse was nowhere to be seen, but Christine knew from experience that the mare liked to hide in the shade of the small oaks which lined the creek.

Suddenly, Christine was surprised by a flash of yellow, then another, then another. Three goldfinches flew past her face. She was absolutely shocked at three of these birds flying among the trees in late August. Then, she noticed a chuck hole. She did not want to fall again. Slowly, Christine made her way past several holes, walking deeper into the copse. Scullery Maid saw her from about twenty-feet away, saluted her with a lazy neigh and continued munching grass. Then, beyond the holes, Christine saw something she had never noticed on the farm, although she had spent all her summers here for fourteen years, back to when she was twelve, when her dad died.

Uncle Jay had become a part-time surrogate dad for Christine and her brother, James. But, James did not have time to visit after he entered the army. His time to retire was coming up next July and Christine was glad that he had decided to come back to Iowa to help old Uncle Jay on the farm. James had never married.

Neither had Christine ever married. There was one man, a long time ago, who was interested, but she discovered a huge flaw in his character which demanded that she break their engagement. He was unfaithful by nature. That was eight years ago, and at forty-six, although beautiful, Christine assumed she was doomed to spinsterhood.

But, now, on this late summer day, the holes in the ground under the copse led to a larger hole in the side of one of the smaller glacial hills covered in grass. Christine could not imagine why she had never noticed this large hole before today. She approached it carefully, and balanced herself with a walking stick in her left hand.

Standing now in front of the hole, Christine met a mystery. Cold air flowed out of the hole. It was a cave.

Now, the neighbor's farm, nearer _______City was full of caves. One of the farmers grew mushrooms in one. But, until today, Christine had not realized that there was a cave on her uncle's property. The three goldfinches flew up over her head and finally, perched in a linden tree, just above Christine's head.

The linden tree, or lime, or basswood, as it is called in Iowa, had been planted by Uncle Jay the day of his marriage to Aunt Iona, who had died a long time ago. Sadly, Iona spent most of her married days battling illnesses, which prevented her and Jay from having a family and caused her to die young at thirty-five. The linden, old and grand, was a favorite of Uncle Jay's, but today, Christine's attention focused on the small cavern entrance.

She carefully sat down on the grass in front of the opening and felt the cold air on her left arm, as she held herself up half-way to look in. Christine sat up. Stairs, small and then larger, had been made about five feet into the cave and led down into the darkness. The stairs clearly had been hewn by the same rock of the interior.

The goldfinches flew over her head. Christine looked up. Coming over the hill was Uncle Jay. Good, she thought, I can ask him about this mystery. She stood up, leaning on the stick.

"Well, you found one opening, I see," said Jay. "If your are curious, there is another one over here, in the center of the copse. Can you walk over here? Be careful of the holes."

Uncle Jay walked ahead of Christine, into the middle of the small bunch of trees. There, on the slope of the hill which ran down to the line of trees, was a huge opening, big enough for a man to walk into without stooping.

"Here is the main entrance. The grade down into the main cave's hall is much easier to follow. The small entrance is steep, with a jump at the end into the same hall."

Christine looked in amazement at Uncle Jay. "You mean you know about this cave and all these years you never told me about it?"

"Wasn't time yet," drawled Uncle Jay. "One has to find things out when one is ready and not before. Now that you found this, it is time."

"Uncle Jay, stop being so mysterious." Christine felt a little hurt and put-out. What could be so special about a Midwest cave?

"Well, it is almost seven and time for dinner. Let's talk about this over ham and cheese and a little of Cousin Bill's beer."

Christine said nothing, but walked slowly back to the farmhouse, about a quarter mile away. The goldfinches disappeared, and another flock of geese flew overhead. Christine knew these birds were only going as far as the wetlands around the Missouri River.

to be continued.....