Advent Reflection

 

Here's an Advent reflection by Austin Farrer, from Crown of the Year:

Our journey sets out from God in our creation, and returns to God at the final judgment.  As the bird rises from the Earth to fly, and must some time return to the Earth from which it rose; so God sends us forth to fly, and we must fall back into the hands of God at last.  But God does not wait for the failure of our power and the expiry of our days to drop us back into his lap.  He goes himself to meet us and everywhere confronts us.  Where is the countenance which we must finally look in the eyes, and not be able to turn away our head?  It smiles up at Mary from the cradle, it calls Peter from the nets, it looks on him with grief when he has denied his master.  Our judge meets us at every step of our way, with forgiveness on his lips and succor in his hands.  He offers us these things while there is yet time.  Every day opportunity shortens, our scope for learning our Redeemer’s love is narrowed by twenty-four hours, and we come nearer to the end of our journey, when we shall fall into the hands of the living God, and touch the heart of the devouring fire.

Advent brings Christmas, judgment runs out into mercy.  For the God who saves us and the God who judges us is one God.  We are not, even, condemned by his severity and redeemed by his compassion; what judges us is what redeems us, the love of God.  What is it that will break our hearts on judgment day?  Is it not the vision, suddenly unrolled, of how he has loved the friends we have neglected, of how he has loved us, and we have not loved him in return; how, when we came before his altar, he gave us himself, and we gave him half-penitences, or resolutions too weak to commit our wills?  But while love thus judges us by being what it is, the same love redeems us by effecting what it does.  Love shares flesh and blood with us in this present world, that the eyes which look us through at last may find in us a better substance than our vanity.

Advent is a coming, not our coming to God, but his to us.  We cannot come to God, he is beyond our reach; but he can come to us, for we are not beneath his mercy.  Even in another life, as St. John sees it in his vision, we do not rise to God, but he descends to us, and dwells humanly among human creatures, in the glorious man, Jesus Christ.  And that will be his last coming; so we shall be his people, and he everlastingly our God, our God-with-us, our Emmanuel.  He will so come, but he is come already, he comes always: in our fellow-Christian (even in a child, says Christ), in his Word, invisibly in our souls, more visibly in this sacrament.  Opening ourselves to him, we call him in: Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord; O come, Emmanuel.

...we shall fall into the hands of the living God, and touch the heart of the devouring fire and judgement runs out into mercy. 

God bless you,

LSP 

Is This The Way?

 

Maybe it is. Keep it simple, right? That in mind, I powered this wreath with green LED lights and a battery pack. What a compact solution, and green too.  Speaking of which, do you remember Climate Change?

You know, the biggest disaster in the history of disasters which would raise the sea level so high it'd flood out the coasts, kill all the polar bears and... and... destroy the planet? The God King Messiah Barak Obama was a big booster, maybe that's why he bought a seafront mansion in Martha's Vineyard, because what a green socialist. What a colossal scam.

Ma LSP's Ready For Christmas

And now we've got COVID. Better vax up and wear your mask, even though neither protect you from getting and spreading a disease which 99.7+% won't kill you. Leap to it, serfs, and guess what. If you don't, you won't be allowed to enter a shop, much less leave your country. So you'd better OBEY.

Is that the way? Sure, the way of slavery, perdition and corrupt deceit. We walk a different path at the Compound. And lest we forget, remember Pearl Harbor, a day of infamy.

Your Crypto Pal,

LSP

Supermodel Apocalypse

 

I keep getting bombarded from Paris with photos of supermodels, and I had to reply. "Look, I've got a theory and that's all it is, just a theory," went the text from Texas to the Champs Elysee, "Sure, Supermodels are human, we get that, but they're from a different world. They're Off-World." Silence from his arrondissement, so I continued, encouraged.

Look, There's Lots of Them, Zoom in

"These beings are clearly different, they are other, see Soo Joo. So let us suppose their origin lies in a planet with lesser gravity, hence their height. Let us further suppose their planet, rich in gold, orbits several suns and is close to the Galactic Center. They are attracted to bright lights. 

Oh My!

"Let us then suggest that the WYMXN were sent here generations ago, and their descendants are unaware of their origin. But yes, they suffer from Interstellar Displacement Effect (IDE). The symptoms are clear. Low self-esteem, hysteria, a constant need for reassurance, 'Yes, you are beautiful...' and on. I take silence to mean 'yes.'"

Soo Joo

Though silence is golden, my friend replied, "You may well be onto something." A moment of reflection. "Are they victims of an as yet unknown aggressor, perhaps genetically traumatized, hence various... disorders. But look, this is only a theory, and with it the question turns. Will the AGGRESSORS follow the WYMXN to earth?

Off-World

"Man, you're on the front lines of the Eschaton. I salute your courage." And I do, the Apocalypse shall fall like a thief in the night, at an hour, place and time we least suspect. 

And as always, 

Ad Astra,

LSP

Texas Light

 

The famed City of Lights, aka Paris, France, is great but Texas has light too, from the heavens. That struck me as I drove out to take the Sacrament to a churchman who'd just got back from hospital after hip surgery. There it was, the sun breaking through the clouds like the presence of God blessing the land of the Lone Star State.

And there I was at the ranch, parking up by an old Chevy 2500 and looking over at round bales, a random dog house sitting on the side of a storm shelter, and a barn beyond. A lot of memories. Many, many hours dove hunting and walking the treelines, gun in hand, a few unsuccessful coyote calls under a bright moon, target shooting photos of Episcopal bishops with GH, rest in peace, and on. What good times.

A cacophony of tiny dogs greeted me at the door, "Come on in, Fr. LSP!" And I did, TR was recovering on a recliner and everyone was watching Yes Prime Minister, a favorite in this part of rural Texas, but that had to pause for the short service.

Think, God, in the Sacrament, visited that house and the people who received him were united to his victory on the Cross. The sun, if you like, broke through the clouds and the glory of God shone. What a wondrous miracle, and how dim our eyes are to see it, but I won't preach.

TR's a neat guy, he used to cowboy at the King Ranch and I asked him once what it was like, "I'll tell you Father, nineteenth century work for nineteenth century pay." In related news, he cooks what might be the best brisket I have ever tasted. Just outstanding, and that's no idle plaudit.

God bless you all and grant TR a full recovery.

Tantum Ergo,

LSP

PARIS

 

A pal's in Paris, France, running some kind of gig or "show" for Chanel. That means, as I understand it, being driven around in a limo to all these Parisienne places. Hey, rock on, and moar power to you but the question is, will you meet Coco?

Possibly. Look out for pearls, lots of them, and don't even consider uttering no for an answer. In the meanwhile we continue stalwart, indomitable, here in our Texan Compound. And that's no small thing.

What can we say?  Excelsior! 

Buy the dip,

LSP

I Love The Country

If you'd said, twenty years ago or so, "LSP, you'll be living in a small asset-stripped town in North Central Texas," I'd have laughed. But the joke would've been on me, just think of the benefits.

Clean air, friendliness, people wave to you on the back roads; a sense, even now, of community. And guess what, most are Christian, they worship God as opposed to Moloch. OK, I'd like to see a few mass conversions from the Methodees, but you get the point.

All this to say nothing of the freedom to walk the fields and brush, gun in hand, under the free sky of Texas. Even better when you can ride it, which I haven't done in a few years because of a mad Arab and a busted hip. But still, it's there.

And guess what. No one, hardly, feels the need to wear weird masks and go full panic, follow the, ahem, science, obey your rulers autism, unlike in the cities. Why? Because no one's actually dying any more than they usually do. There's a degree of common sense running around in the country and people sense a lying, powerplay Democrat snake. They say no to it. Will they crush its heel?

Possibly, and the Left hates this and fears the country. Quite right too, how will their cities feed themselves if the hateful two gender extremists stop hauling food? Just a thought.

Your Old Pal,

LSP

Well, Well, What Have We Here

Typical Texan HVAC Scene

 

Busted HVAC. Good thing Craig turned up before Morning Prayer to sort it out. And there we were, looking at the malfeasant unit. "Cuts off when the cover goes on. Why? Faulty board, pressure?" I didn't know but stood back while HVAC friend took a call from Waco.

"I need duct for... and some foots... and..." he turned to me me, call ended, "Where are we living, Babylon?" Ain't that the truth, and we discussed the current insanity of the way we live now. Then it was time to head to Itasca.

Karen's Authentic Mexican Food (it is)

Itasca's an interesting little town, mainly because of its Amish(?) deli and Karen's Authentic Mexican Food. I like both but prefer Karen's, where you can get an awesome homemade bean brisket burrito. That in hand, off to the compound to meet a hauler. His job? Take out a '50's Chevy Panel van and an '82 'vette, which is exactly what he did. 

It felt good, I tell you, being under the big sky and open air of Texas as opposed to some ersatz, strip mall facsimile. Not that I pour scorn any which way. Go on, knock yourself out at Red Lobster, Texas Roadhouse, Taco Bell, subWay, Panda Express or whatever, or enjoy Karen's. Your call. No rule.

Creepy Van

In other news, an old pal's setting up some kind of pop concert at Chanel's HQ in Paris. In homage to Coco, or just for bucks? Maybe both. Whatever, if you want to get on the VIP list send an email, we can only say no, or YES.

Whatev. I'm not joining the Parisian party because I can't fly. No DevilVax you see.

Truly,

LSP

Lights On

 

I went for a walk to the old Shamrock tonight, and nothing much had changed except for the lights. They were on, in all their Christmas glory. Hold on, this is Advent, but they hadn't got the memo.

Still, the Holy Family, and I like that. Mary, Joseph and the infant Christ. There it is, salvation, come into the world. Beautiful.

The church, on the other hand, looked a bit shaky. We must hope that'd not be some kind of metaphor. And if it is? Draw the moral as you take it.

God bless,

LSP

Cooking With LSP - Pie

 

"Cooking with LSP!" you exclaim ferociously from your bay window at Boodles, "That old trick?!?" But not so fast, it can be done, here's how.

Look defiantly at Thanksgiving leftovers and instead of problem see solution. In this case a pie, a turkey and mushroom pie and because you want to save on hassle, made in one 10" skillet. That's right, a one skillet pie.

First up, melt some butter and olive oil in heavy metal, put on Tree Top Flyer Best Version Ever, add half a chopped onion, a couple of cloves of chopped garlic, 2 cups of chopped mushrooms, salt and pepper to taste, a tsp of thyme and fry till the onions are translucent, around 5 minutes. Yes indeed, nice and easy.

Behold the vegetables in their fried glory and sort out the jukebox, perhaps Golden Brown is appropriate, then continue. Add 3 tbs of flour to the mix, coat the veg, it'll stiffen, then slowly add 2 cups of homemade chicken broth, stirring. It's not hard, just pour it in and watch the gravy thicken. Result.

Then add up to a cup of milk and stir it into the mix until you get the consistency you want, not too watery, not too thick. Apply chopped up turkey. We got ours from a rancher whose wife had gone to Vegas to run PRA barrel competitions, "Here boys, you take this," and so we did.

Rodeo aside, simmer or rest your pie mix for a while, it takes time for those flavors to become as one delicious one. And then? Cover the beast with pastry and put it in a 400* preheated oven until the crust is golden, around 20 minutes. But no rule, your call.

Go on, shoot the dam pie

Well done, bask in the glory of it all and fall upon your scoff.

Like a Warrior,

LSP

PS. Careful on the salt... word to the wise.

Golden Brown Shootout

 

So what's better. This^^^, or this.

Thanks, DM, you clearly rock, and thanks for the tip. But what's best, Mexico or Egypt? As always, you, the reader, be the judge.

Shoot on,

LSP

PS. Have you noticed Hugh Cornwell's increasing similarity to a senior officer in the British Army. Perhaps it's reincarnation.

Soldier Gets A Ride

 

Here's the deal. Back in the day I told the Private that he could have my rig when he passed Basic and AIT. I, like a champion, would go out boldly and get a new one, a better one, and he could have the old beast. But things went sideways, the plan went awry.

The new Specialist returns from Korea and truck$ were stupidly expensive, "Son, because MillSoc incompetence and wrecking you must wait." Then truck$$ get even more ridiculously pricey, thanks, Xiden, and the kid has to wait some more, until yesterday.

A White Car

Cash in hand we marched into Barron's used car lot. "We want to buy a car, yes, cash on the nail." And that's exactly what happened. One 2015, 100k on the clock Kia later and the soldier drives off with his first vehicle. Nice and easy.

Park Up

Great result, and so much better than options on hand in Killeen, where they apparently gouge the troops; he was fixing to buy a '12 Merc for 13k but had a moment of clarity... thank God. 

Random DLC Spoon

So there you have it. Now the soldier's got a ride at a reasonable price and can nav the Fort on his own as opposed to scrounging lifts from somebody else. The plan evolves.

Parentally,

LSP

Golden Brown

Never a frown with golden brown. I'd advise caution and so would the monkey, he's a ferocious beast. Here's Toto.

One Love,

LSP