Edinburgh Garrison RSM - For LL

 

Behold the power of the RSM, and well done those boys. LL, this short infovid's for you, respect. In other news, we had our diocesan convention this morning and it was incredibly, mercifully short. Upshot? They made me a Rural Dean. What does a Rural Dean even do?

I guess we'll find out. My guess is... fish, shoot, listen to Waylon, ride again, drive rigs, say Mass and get rural on a Dean tip. But seriously, if you'd said in the mid '90s and beyond that I'd be Priest-in-Charge of two country missions between Dallas and Waco, well, I'd have laughed.

How preposterous. Hey, the joke was on me, and I thank God for it. No kidding.

Your Pal,

LSP

Funeral

 

The funeral went well, with cowboys and cowgirls from all over the country descending on Waco to pay their respects. Quite a thing. I told them a short story in the homily, which went something like this.

Bud didn't suffer fools gladly though he was always good to me, and sometimes in a tough way. A few years ago I was laid up in bed with a broken femur, thanks to a mad Arab, and called Bud on Saturday to see if he'd lined up a priest to cover the Mass on Sunday.

"No," he replied. "Why not?" I asked, "Because you're going to do it." Not wanting to seem like a wimp I rolled up to church on a walker the next day and said the Mass. S took a photo and made a meme; there I was at the Altar on a walker with him alongside. And the legend? "When an old cowboy bullies the priest into saying Mass with a broken leg." We laughed but he was right, got me moving again.

 

And that was Bud. What a good man. We had a lot of fun over the years, mostly at church, where we'd go back and forth, "I'm going riding after Mass," I'd tell him, "Huh. Don't fall off." Well, you can't take that lying down, "Don't worry, if things get tippy there's always the pommel thing." A moment of silence, "We call it a saddle horn."

Again, "Why don't you genuflect anymore?" I'd ask. "Because I don't have any kneecaps," straighteye stare, "Maybe you're just a dangerous Protestant." He was, you understand, a faithful High Churchman and a catholic Christian. To say nothing of an outstanding athlete and really good man.

But I won't bang on. Rest in peace, my friend, and thank you all for your prayers.

God bless,

LSP

Pray Hard Please

 

The text came in early this morning, "They think he's developed pneumonia. White blood cell counts are up and organs don't look good. We could lose him today." 

This was my friend and MC at one of the missions, a man I'd worshiped with at the Altar, Sunday by Sunday, for the past thirteen years. An outstanding athlete in his day, he's now on a ventilator. 

So I dropped everything and drove to an ICU in Waco to administer the sacrament of Extreme Unction, and offer the prayers of the Church. “Go forth, Christian soul..." and if it's God's will, return to health. I'll be honest, everyone's praying for a miracle and I''m asking you to do so too.

He was and is a good man. Nothing remotely fake about him, he called his shots as he saw them and if he didn't suffer fools gladly was always good to me, sometimes in a tough way.

For example, a few years back I was laid up in bed with a broken hip, thanks to a mad Arab, and I called my friend on Saturday morning, "Hey, have you got a priest to cover the Mass tomorrow?" A short pause, "No, I haven't." I thought for a moment, mind like a steel trap, "Why not?" A shorter pause, "Because you're doing it."

Not wanting to seem like a pathetic soy of a wimp I rolled up to the Altar the next day on a walker and said Mass, MC at my side. One his daughters took a photo and produced a meme, when an old cowboy bullies his priest into saying Mass with a broken leg. Ha. But hey, he was right, got me moving.

I say again, please pray for a miracle and in the absence of a sign, for the angels to escort this good soul to paradise.

LSP

Out And About

 

Seeing as how LSPland's full of surprises, I drove out to meet a photographer this morning. He shoots on land and in the air, with a drone. And what a good young guy; he left the Army after an IED messed up his back on his second tour in Afghanistan.

He rebounded well, others much less so. Were we right to go Big Army there and fight yet another war we weren't prepared to win? To put it another way, was my photographic friend's back worth it? I won't bang on but people who know far more about this kind of thing than I will ever do say no.

Mission accomplished, I drove to Waco. Movement, says the Philosopher is a sign of life. And what life it was, there on China Springs Road, complete with a strip mall and everything. Totally different than, say, where I live. All very stranger in a strange land. Don't get me wrong, not necessarily bad, just different, sitting there under the cerulean.

An old pal broke my strip mall reverie, texting in from LA where he's doing some kind of music thing, "Up early. Blast in hotel gym then mile run. I might be turning LA. If I start drinking wheatgrass smoothies I'll send an SOS. Stage an intervention."

Yes indeed, be careful out there, fella. But in the meanwhile, all's well in Texas and thank God for that.

Your Old Friend,

LSP

This And That

 

Please don't yawn but our diocesan convention was semi-virtual this year because of the Chinese scamdemic. This meant we met by regional deanery and conducted business via Zoom. Of course I'm in the Deep South Deanery and drove off to Waco and Christ Church.

Downtown Waco

Have you been to Waco? It always strikes me as a town that was bombed during the last Big One and never really rebuilt. Still, Christ Church is going strong and there's signs of life returning to a downtown gutted by asset strippers and associated malfeasants. Good.

CCW

There's also the amazingly awesome, incredible, faked up rubbish rip off worth every penny SILOS. You can buy a beautiful made in China tin mug at the Silos for around 10 bucks, which is value because the mug's got Magnolia written on it. Owning the beautiful mug not only makes Chip and Joanna even richer, but adds you to their marketing team, for free! Except that it's not free, you've paid $10 for the privilege. 

Typical Waco Street Scene

Silos aside, the Zoom convention went well enough and it was fun to see some of the Deep South clergy and laity; a faithful crew. As I was pondering this blessing, and working up sermon notes while a Nigerian bishop bellowed over the Zoom link, the PFC called in.

Somewhere in Korea

He's on a mission somewhere in Korea and having fun protecting the border against the commies. Well done, kid, a happy soldier's a happy father. 

In related news, somewhere around a million people descended on DC to march for 45, freedom, and the integrity of our election in the face of a perceived, I'd argue actual, billionaire funded leftist coup. They didn't loot, burn or attack anyone. They were attacked by hate filled leftist revolutionaries.

MAGA2020

Curious, isn't it, that all the violence is coming from the left. Shouldn't it be the other way around, given that Trump's literally Hitler and his supporters Nazis? But that's not the case. Patriot doesn't = National Socialist. Does Democrat = Bolshevik? Not necessarily, but the Donkey's strangely silent in the face of the violence and hatred it's encouraged for at least four years.

As we reflect on this disturbing trend and forecast even more disturbing outcomes, remember that evil has a strange way of overplaying its bestial hand.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Visting The Sick in The Plague Year

Remember the reports out of Wuhan and then Italy? Pandemic disaster, right? People falling dead on the street, hospitals overwhelmed, crematoria burning 24/7 and all the rest. Scary stuff, like Journal of a Plague Year redux. Flash forward maybe 6 months, and what do we see? I went to a hospital in Waco today to find out.

Was it overwhelmed with plague victims, in the kind of crisis you'd expect from a deadly disease that's shut down the nations of the West and forced Texans, yes Texans to wear masks? No, it was not.

After passing through a viral safety checkpoint, which consisted of a crop haired girl with tattoos and a handheld thermometer gun the place was empty. Seriously, you could fire a homemade pipe canon or a trebuchet down the corridors of this Health Industry and not hit a soul.

Which made everything easy. I conducted some business with the billing section, which you can visit as much as you like, unlike the patient side which you can't, tellingly. And yes, Hillcrest's gotta look after the cash flow. 

There's a moral here, if you care to draw it. As in, how much does this place of healing get paid for the COVID-19, Chinese Bat Bug? Thousands, tens of thousands, more? Follow the money.

Regardless, thoughts of conspiracy, corruption and outright malfeasance aside, I sent flowers via the "gifte shoppe" to a church lady, along with a letter. I wasn't allowed to visit her, obviously, unlike Billing. 

But priests must care for their flock, even in times of election year plague and, thank God, underwhelmed hospitals. Then it was time to get on the deadly nightmare that is I35 and head back to base, mission accomplished.

Recce Patrol,

LSP 

Magnum Mysterium!

I drove to Waco this morning to visit the sick in hospital and by some miracle didn't end up in hospital myself, given the driving on I35. All well and good, even though I wasn't able to visit the remarkable, awesome, amazing, Magnolia Moneyspinner Rip-Off Silos. 

People travel from all over America to visit the Silos. Why? It's a mystery, and when I got back to the Compound I found another. Here it is.

Who could possibly have done such a thing? Did some intruder, possibly a Ukrainian, break in and attempt a little quid pro quo, a little legal-pad-shredding malfeasance only to be chased off by a ferocious Blue Guard? Or was there another culprit?

Perhaps, readers, we need a closed door inquiry.

Transparently,

LSP

Rodeo

Just when you were wondering what to do on a rainy Thursday evening in the waterworld that is rural Texas, a kind friend came to the rescue with tickets to the RAM Texas Circuit Finals Rodeo in Waco. So off we went.

The Coliseum was pretty much empty, probably on account of everyone staying home to protect their flooded compounds from looters. But that didn't detract from the event, far from it. Bronc, roping, barrels, bull riding and more, big fun.

What's best? Hard to say but perhaps barrel riding comes out on top for me; it's great to watch the girls fly around the arena. Fast action, outstanding riding. Then again, saddle bronc's high adrenaline too, right out of the chute.

And what's wrong with bull riding? Nothing, unless you get kicked and gored by a ferocious bull. Most definitely a job for the young and insanely fearless. But it's all good.

Junior LSP, it was his first rodeo, had a blast, "Dad, now I want to go riding." I feel the same and maybe we'll do that tomorrow if dry land emerges from the waters of the flood.

Ride on,

LSP

Ride

A churchman asked me to bless his small herd of horses this evening, 6 Arabians, a Warmblood and a Mustang. So off I went and so did a lot of people from one of the missions, perhaps they were wondering if their padre could ride.

Shala. Note Well Put Together Barn

Good question! Fortunately I could and rode out on Shala alongside two outstanding competitive horsewomen who've forgotten more than I'll ever know about the sport.

You Ride Better Than What I Do

Still, I held my own and the congregation watching from the sidelines got a kick out of the thing. Great fun.

My Friend's Tack Room

Ride over, I blessed the herd and we all fell back to the ranch house for a delicious meal. What a lot of fun and it reminded me of several things.

One I Took Earlier

Firstly, ride more, a lot more, it's important. Secondly, bring the congregation together for fun, fellowship and worship outside of the usual Sunday morning slot. It builds the communion which is established at the Altar. 

Common sense I know, but perhaps it needs stating, especially in a mission setting. With that in mind, sermon over.

Ride On,

LSP

On The Road On The Gun

The rig hummed along, thank you very much after a fortune spent at the aptly named "shop," and all was well with rural Texas as I drove to visit a sick cowboy. We talked about liturgy and society at the ranch as well as the Holy Cross Fathers.

Their erstwhile supremo married a nun who'd got herself into trouble for witchcraft in Africa, Una Kroll. Una went on to champion womyn priests and died last year. I don't know if she remained married to the former monk. 

After anointing my friend I drove to Waco. "What you going there for?" he asked, hopefully recovering his spirits. "To get some things for my new gun," I replied, quick as you like and then some, "It's a 7.62 battle rifle."

Fun Guns on Franklin supplied the deficit along with the extra bonus of late '70s music on the store jukebox. Go ahead, shop for AR15 barrels, Magpul accessories and all things weaponry while listening to the Clash.

"I say," I asked a youthful shop assistant, "Are you the only deadly assault rifle store in town that plays Machine Gun Etiquette and God Save The Queen on some kind of loop?" The pleasant young man looked embarrassed, made a needless excuse and took all my money. Thanks a lot, Malcolm  so-called McLaren.

Wallet several pounds lighter I headed for home and a kid who wants to enlist. He's at the gym now working out and he'll have to if he's going to lift the new rifle. So will I.

Gun rights,

LSP

The Pyx And The Knife

I drove to Waco this morning. No, not to visit the truly awesome Silos but to take the Sacrament to a man in hospital. Two of his family were there and I brought Communion for them too.

It's a simple enough rite and I use elements from an old book called the English Ritual, a relic from the days when the Church of England hadn't been taken over by Mantis People and the Anglo-Catholic movement was just that, a movement.

Regardless, when it was time to administer the sacrament, the strangely outsize Hosts stuck in the pyx; they wouldn't exit the small made-in-China faux brass container. Solution? Whip out your folder, mine's a Cold Steel Recon 1, and pry the Hosts loose. Then the rite can continue.

Ecce Agnus Dei... "Behold the Lamb of God, behold him which taketh away the sins of the world," the small congregation replying, "Lord I am not worthy that thou should come under my roof but speak the word only and my soul shall be healed." 

Communion administered and final benediction given, I remarked that I'd never done such a thing before and I haven't. Using a knife to administer Communion to the Sick isn't in the manuals, not even the Knott variety, and I felt a little sacrilegious. "Don't worry," said C, "We're all country people here."

That reassured me, as does the knowledge that Christ's Body was given to his Mystical Body, there in that hospital room.

Make of this what you will.

God bless,

LSP

Rodeo!

It was worth risking life on the corridor of fame that is I35 to go to the rodeo in Waco. That's because the PRCA ProRodeo finals are sheer adrenaline up excitement, and a good humored get together to boot. 

A ringside seat in the boxes made it even better, right up close to the action, and that had its moments. Bang, out of the gate comes a pounding, bucking, ferocious bull. Rider, stay on that bull! And when you're thrown, don't get trampled to death by the hooves of the beast. No kidding.

Bronc, barrel, just look at those girls fly!, and bull riding are all high octane, but  don't scorn team roping and steer wrestling. Go on, jump off a running horse and wrestle a steer to the ground, I dare you. Regardless, watching the horsemanship and the outstanding quality and spirit of the animals alone is an event in itself, at least for me.

All this to say nothing of muttin bustin (sheep riding) and general carry on for the kids, and the way the event kicks off, with prayer, a flag ride, and the Star Spangled Banner. Guess what, no one keeps their hat on in protest.

You might mock all this if you're an NWO stooge, or a comsymp fool who's so far up the New York Times that you can't separate truth from fiction. Or you can see it for what it is, good, wholesome, down-home, straight up enjoyment with no side.

So thanks, J&B. A great night was had by all.

God bless,

LSP

Visit The Sick, in Waco

Waco, on Sunday Morning

I have to visit some people in hospital in Waco. Will the town still be there, and how do hospitals operate underwater anyway?

A Couple of Divers, in Waco

That remains to be seen.

Dive, Dive, Dive!

LSP

Fish

Fish On

I wouldn't want anyone to think I was some kind of stereotype, or something, so I eagerly took up a friend's offer to go Kayak Fishing on the Brazos, on the outskirts of Waco, off I35.

We stopped at Walmart to pick up some spinners and lures and I seized the opportunity to spray my legs with insect repellent, or sunscreen, which I found open at the sporting goods counter. I got into a fight about that with a Walmart person. but don't worry, it wasn't a real fight, just a verbal.

some guy facing off a bear with a hatchet

Fleeing Walmart we stopped at a Starbucks because I wanted a Latte, and spied a senior philosophy prof (?) from Baylor. I resisted the urge to hurl unkind taunts about "old bald head" and reminded my friend about Elijah and the bears.

fish

Then a whole lot of fun kayaking along the river -- the fish (Bass) were jumping and I was catching nothing until we pulled into some shallows and cast from there. Caught a baby Bass and a Drum(?) and as always felt inordinately pleased at the catch. Put the fish back and progressed upstream to home.

Fish Rising

Great fun. Message? Fish more often, get a boat.

Fish on,

LSP