One of the reasons that I haven’t been posting much on WhollyRoaminCatholic is because I have a new project on my plate. I’ve been remodeling the bathroom of the WRC estate.

I grew up in the family plumbing business and have been working around construction from the time I was about 13 years old. I’m out of the business these days and have no hankering to go back– but it’s given me a certain confidence to tear into the walls and get my hands dirty. Mrs. WRC and I remodeled our kitchen the year after we were married, and now it’s time to do the bathroom.

Someone asked me what I was planning on doing for St. Joseph’s Day this year. Usually St. Joseph’s Day is a the quieter saint’s day of March, happening two days after St. Patrick’s Day. I spent St. Joseph’s Day sanding drywall and prepping the shower walls for new tile.

When we did the kitchen, Mrs. WRC was a competent partner, helping me demolish the old kitchen and rebuild a new one; she helped hang tile, install cabinets, put in new appliances and paint all anew. She’s an amazing woman like that.

This time around, she’s staying at her mother’s house. I think she’d like to be here in the midst of the work, but I asked her to take a couple weeks away. I want to keep her out of the dust and filth of construction because she’s carrying our first child. (!) So she graciously (and secretly, thankfully) accepted my request to go out while this project is going on. Not to mention that we don’t have a shower right now. Being a guy, I don’t mind scavenging for a late-night shower, but that’s not very befitting of a lady. Especially one in a family way.

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Tomorrow is the feast of the Annunciation, the day we recognize that the Angel Gabriel appeared to Mary to tell her that she was to be the virgin Mother of God. It is the story told in the first chapter of Luke’s gospel:

In the sixth month, the angel Gabriel was sent from God into a city of Galilee, called Nazareth, to a virgin espoused to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David; and the virgin’s name was Mary. And the angel being come in, said unto her: Hail, full of grace, the Lord is with thee: blessed art thou among women. Who having heard, was troubled at his saying, and thought with herself what manner of salutation this should be. And the angel said to her: Fear not, Mary, for thou hast found grace with God.

Behold thou shalt conceive in thy womb, and shalt bring forth a son; and thou shalt call his name Jesus. He shall be great, and shall be called the Son of the most High; and the Lord God shall give unto him the throne of David his father; and he shall reign in the house of Jacob for ever. And of his kingdom there shall be no end. And Mary said to the angel: How shall this be done, because I know not man? And the angel answering, said to her: The Holy Ghost shall come upon thee, and the power of the most High shall overshadow thee. And therefore also the Holy which shall be born of thee shall be called the Son of God.

And behold thy cousin Elizabeth, she also hath conceived a son in her old age; and this is the sixth month with her that is called barren: Because no word shall be impossible with God. And Mary said: Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it done to me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her.

There is so much to learn from these three paragraphs! More than I can do justice in a post on this blog. But it was Mary’s humble submission “be it done to me according to thy word” that would change the course of history. Her decision to trust the Lord and accept His will is a model for us still two millennia later.

The story of the Annunciation is retold in a prayer called “The Angelus“, a prayer whose earliest form dates back to the thirteenth century. Abbey bells would ring to signify that the monks should begin their evening prayers. In the towns that surrounded medieval abbeys, other people would pause their toil and pray three Hail Marys to end each work day.

Over time, it would evolve into a prayer said three times a day (morning, midday and evening)– with verses retelling the story of the annunciation fit in between each of the three Hail Mary prayers.

I have been praying this prayer 6 times a week for many months, hoping that Mrs. WRC and I could have a baby. Now that she is with child, I continue to pray it that she has a safe and happy time as a new and expectant mother. EWTN’s website has the text of the prayer if you care to (spiritually) join me in prayer each day around noon.

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After this annunciation to Mary, she traveled from her home in Nazareth up to the hill country in Judea. The distance, about 90 miles, is quite a hoof for a pregnant lady. Mary went to see her cousin Elizabeth who was also expecting a miracle baby (she was too old to conceive, but was told by the Angel Gabriel that she was also to have son). Elizabeth’s child, John the Baptist, would leap in Elizabeth’s womb at the sound of Mary’s voice, causing Elizabeth to exclaim to Mary “Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb!” Mary would stay with Elizabeth for a few months until Joseph would come down to bring her home.

This trip, called “The Visitation”, has been on my mind a lot lately. I think of how exciting it must have been for Mary and Elizabeth to be sharing the same joys of expecting a family. I can imagine them going to the first-century equivalent of Babies ‘Я Us and talking about what color they’re going to paint the rooms and pondering the merits of various stroller designs. As an expectant father, I’m only partially in the loop on these things. It is mostly my job to apply the paint that Mrs. WRC picks out for WRCJr’s room.

I’ve also been thinking about Mrs. WRC staying with her mother while I’m remodeling the Estate.

Tradition suggests that St. Joseph walked with Mary while she was traveling down and back to see her cousin, but that while she was away, he stayed home and worked. A carpenter’s pay was not a rich man’s wage then (or now), and he needed to stay working to support his new family. Besides, he probably needed some time to himself to sort out all this news of a virgin birth and to make sense of what was really happening in his life. The thought of being a new father is scary anyway, not to mention this business of angels and kings and holy spirits.

For my part, I’ve been staying at home and getting our house ready for my wife and child (at this moment, I’m waiting for tile thinset to dry). It seems like a fitting exercise here in March, an entire month dedicated to St. Joseph.

As an aside, it was here at the Visitation where Mary proclaimed the Magnificat, also called the Canticle of Mary. I’ve written about the Magnificat before, noting that it is basically the first Christmas carol (and the first one sung by a Jewish woman, paving the way for Barbara Streisand in the 1960’s).

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The patron saint of carpenters is, of course, St. Joseph. And any remodeler worth his salt would do well to ask his intercession. There is a patron of all tradesmen in St. Vincent Ferrer, whose steadfast work to build up the Church is a model for all people who spend their life building.

I’ve also been asking the intercession of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, though he is not the patron of anything related to bathroom remodeling. I’ve been turning to him for a more whimsical reason: Aloysius is the old German version (via Latin) of Ludwig. The French version is the more-common name Louis. Its Italian version is Luigi, the famous namesake of the evil-fighting, fireball-throwing, high-jumping plumber from Brooklyn. Bathroom remodels are jobs for plumbers who have experience with mushrooms (or in my case, some mild mold issues) and whose job is to work for the princess (or in my case, Mrs WRC). St. Luigi hasn’t let me down.

So please excuse my absence from the internets lately. I’ve got a couple other things going right now. I’ll check back as soon as I can. You understand, right?

St. Vincent Ferrer, St. Luigi (and especially) St. Joseph, pray for us!

So we’re a couple weeks into Lent, the process of spiritual cleansing and denial that prepares us for Easter. How are those Lenten resolutions coming, gentle reader?

I made 3 resolutions for myself:
(1) keep a fast for Lent
(2) adding at least an hour of Mass or adoration per week
(3) making a donation to a worthy charity

I’m sad to report mixed results so far. I took care of number three last week.

Number two hasn’t gone so well. I failed the first (short) week of Lent, but have time to refocus on that resolution and get back into gear. I’ve never been a particularly good pray-er, though sometimes I wonder if anyone feels like they are good pray-ers. Still, if I believe that practice makes perfect– and I want to be as perfect as a guy can be– then I need to spend more time practicing my holiness.

Number one. Oh, number one. The fast. grumblegrumblegrumble. Heh. Truthfully, the fast hasn’t been so hard thusfar. Oh, save your jokes about why camels have humps and other fat-guys-fasting yuks. But all-in-all, it’s not been as hard as I think it should have been. Scaling back breakfast has been one concern since I don’t really eat big breakfasts anyway. How do you eat half a bowl of cereal? Half a bowl of cereal just doesn’t look like fasting. But can’t skip breakfast and still be ready to work, so I have to have something in the morning. Lunch is easy to fast through: if I have an apple and glass of water, that’s usually enough to recharge my day.

Dinner is its own problem though. Under the general rules of fasting, people can have 1 full meal and 2 smaller meals that do not add up to a meal. It’s a little subjective. What is a full meal? Is a full meal made up of an appetizer, salad, entree-and-two-sides, dessert and after-dinner drinks?

Ahem.

Sometimes, yes.

That is the real temptation of fasting: to go overboard on the one-full-meal of the day. And on those days when you’re not sitting down to a proper supper at the family table, it gets even more murkey. In non-fasting times, dinner on those nights where I have to fend for myself might be made up of some leftover pasta, a dish of creamed corn, a slice of bread slathered with barbeque sauce and a 1/2 inch slice of Velveeta cheese (some elements of bachelorhood never go away). Who’s to know if I add a leftover waffle or hot dog to the mix? It’s such an irregular dinner that there’s no shame in chasing the whole thing with a second slice of Velveeta. Does that count as one full meal? Six meals? *sigh*

Today, however, there is no question. I’m breaking the fast today. Lent’s off for the next dozen hours or so. Today is one of those days where you wake up at 4 AM full of snot and slobber gasping for breath across your swollen tonsils. Sorry if that’s too much icky detail, but sometimes life is full of icky details.

So I started this morning with a pre-sunrise hot bowl of grits, a liberally-sized glass of orange juice and a second glass of V8 to boost my Vitamin-C to about 400% of my recommended daily allowance. Then I followed up with some leftover mac & cheese. And I feel great! Well, I feel better.

Some people would say that I should just live with the sickness and offer it up to the Lord. And in principle, I agree. But illness also precludes the usual rules of fasting– and I have an obligation to my wife to get some work done today that I can’t do if I’m slobbering into another box of Kleenex and watching The West Wing reruns all morning.

Oh, The West Wing reruns stopped an hour ago? Er, well, um. Yeah. Time to take another dose of cold medicine and get at it today. I should start with picking up these used kleenex tissues. It looks like someone sideswiped a homecoming float in here.

Have a blessed and fruitful Lent.