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haztory · 3 years

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬

--nanami kento x gn!reader; hurt, comfort, minor character death, established relationship, death from a disease

--summary: Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on. He's no stranger to it nor the quiet that follows it. But when it plagues you like this, he finds himself at a loss.

a/n: I don’t know where this came from. it just happened. have I mentioned I'm a huge nanami simp as well? something about capable men just gets to me hehe. anyways, enjoy!

i listened to ‘clouds’ by luke faulkner while writing this

(w.c. 2302)

Death is part of the process, Nanami Kento learns early on.

It’s not one he has to particularly enjoy, but it would be advantageous in the resting of his conscious to make peace with it. Rather than let death ruin the few hours of sleep he can manage a night, it’s significantly easier to never let it weigh too heavily on his mind, never let its stay linger for more than necessary in the space of his thoughts. His occupation demands a certain air of nonchalance from him, requires the detached, almost stoic acknowledgment of the situation. Eventually, familiarity will settle in the depth of his recollection and death becomes something one needn’t blink twice towards.

It’s not an aspect of the job he likes, per se, but it’s significantly better than the alternative. This seemingly apathetic conception of human life is unfortunately an evil requirement. Instead of festering over the lives he didn’t save, he can focus on the ones he has yet to protect. His slate may be tainted with copious amounts of red— inky, dark, bleeding red; the kind that looks black as it accumulates— but in true Kento fashion, he’ll wipe it clean. Gently, with a clean rag and with slow, circular motions, he’ll wash away the evidence of his failures with as much respect as he can, regardless of how exhausted he may be and how much easier it would be to just run his body, suit, and knife through the stream of water.

The victims may no longer be of this earth, but their last physical embodiment lay wickedly upon his person, his weapon, and his soul. Where he couldn’t save them, the least he can do is lay their last parts to rest with as much kindness as one can muster: with a slow wipe and a silent prayer.

Death is part of the process, but, if one allows it, it can also be the fuel towards excellence. A drive that settles in after the brief misfortune, kickstarting the desire for improvement; A need to do and be better. To work harder and save more people. But that’s all it must be. No residual guilt, no lasting regret, only fuel. That’s what Nanami Kento learns early on.

What he learns rather recently, though, is that death is much different when it’s inevitable.

When there is no amount of slashing, no amount of fighting, no amount of improved skills that can prevent it. Even worse, when you know it’s coming and preparation can do very little in settling the grief.

Death is part of the process, but how can one rationalize it when it doesn’t come from the immediate life or death situation he so often faces? When it doesn’t come from the hands of maniacal cursed spirits or the wickedness of greedy men, but instead, from the unforgiving nature of nature itself? How does one reconcile the inevitability of death when it happens to someone so young?

Cancer.

She was only eleven.

Death is part of the process, Kento used to think, but as he stands amongst the sea of black on this fitting day of grey, he can’t help but notice how incredibly unfair this all is. Her mother stands a few feet away, silent as they scatter her ashes by the river she used to play in as a child. She stands flanked on either side by loved ones, and yet, the abysmal look on her face betrays any ideal that she may be comforted by the closeness of others; Hardly even cognizant of the fact that they’re there. He’s seen that look before, once on himself.

It’s the face of vicissitude, the kind that casts someone past the rocks of sadness and out onto the sea of loneliness and despair. A place that no one can follow.

Spouses are called some variation of widow, children are called orphans. What does one call a parent who’s lost their child? No doubt the lack of a label only helps to contribute to the loneliness of it all. Suspended in pain without even the decency of a customary societal title attached to one’s name. Left with nothing but the echoing emptiness of a broken heart.

Grief personified. A hollow shell of a being. Just another person who lost someone they loved. Nothing more, nothing less.

Kento is used to death, but this? This has heartache weighing heavier on his shoulders than he’s used to, forcing his impeccably straight posture forward with a sag of tragedy. The silence of the fellow attendees forces him to maintain some morsel of composure, in fear of disturbing the serene devastation of it all that’s composed so fragilely. So delicate that even a sigh will break the glass of still anguish. As her ashes are scattered to the river and the priest begins the common prayer, the image of her weak smile in her last moments plays vividly behind Kento’s tinted glasses. He can hardly swallow the lump that tightens his throat.

He can hardly imagine how her mother feels. Can hardly imagine how you feel. She was your niece after all.

His eyes trail towards your figure. Standing to the right of your sister, dressed in the customary black, and hand held tightly in hers in solidarity of the magnitude of the loss. Kento didn’t mind standing towards the back, away from the bubble of intimacy that surrounded the two of you. It would’ve felt like an invasion of the sanctity of family to stand anywhere near. A foreigner, he’s always attributed himself to be whenever accompanied with your family— not out of their refusal to accommodate him, but rather his own voluntary maintenance of separation from their sphere of loving connection that was more or less absent from his own life— and any meager effort to share sentiments of sorrow would feel, more or less, inauthentic. At least at this moment.

So he waits, towards the back of the gathering. A far enough distance to ascertain his separation from the immediate family, but close enough to where, should you require him at any point, you need only turn around to seek him out. And he will come to you, as fast as his legs may go, regardless of the people that may be in the way. For his hand has been twitching this entire time with the need to physically comfort you and his eyes continuously dart back to your figure in watchful consideration.

The priest ends his prayer and the last of the ashes are sent off and silence once more encompasses the gathering. The aching kind, the one that wants to be disturbed so badly, but remains untouchable. The kind of agonizing mute that has surrounded his life since you received the fateful phone call a few days before.

Kento is no stranger to quiet. It’s his preferred method of life, not the kind of person to find delight in unnecessary, boastful noise, nor the kind to entertain it often. But this is the kind of quiet he finds greats distaste in. Especially since it’s deprived him of his favorite kind of din— yours.

The life that is so intricately intertwined with yours has held virtually no recognizable clamor in four days. No low chatter from the television, no raucous laughter induced from one of your social media apps, no prolonged discussion of each other’s days or interesting points of conversation. Only silence has filled every gap and crevice as you two packed bags and made arrangements to head to your hometown in preparation for the funeral. Lamenting silence filled the space as you sat side by side on the train towards your destination. Mournful silence encompassing the home of your sister upon your mutual entry into the area. Silence so thick yet so delicate, so long and so void that any attempt to dismantle it feels boilingly uncomfortable.

He doesn’t like the wall it has unintentionally placed between you two, wanting nothing more than to tear it down with his bare hands and have you back within the safety of his arms. But he knows better.

Death is part of the process, and he must let grief run its course. He’ll just remain in the shadows as a beam of support, intent to provide the space and time you need, but always keeping a trained eye on you.

That’s what love is, he supposes. It’s an odd thing to think, especially as solemness surrounds him as it does now. The drag of sadness competing with the surge of love that overwhelms his veins. It’s burning, and intense, and while his is mostly in consideration of you (as most things in his life nowadays are), it’s peculiarly indicative of the moment. Poetic, almost.

Bleeding affection borders this ceremony of gathered friends and family in a proper send-off, love encapsulated in the silent tears trailing down faces and memorialized in the air of stagnance. Pouring in every direction as they all gaze sadly at the traveling ashes of the young girl down the steady waters of the river.

It’s grief, yes, but also love, for what is grief but love with nowhere to go?

The ride home is like all the other days, incredibly hushed. Inaudible. He can barely hear your breaths. He wonders, and not for the first time, if when he dies, this is how you will grieve. In this tragic quiet, moving with such stillness that was he not watching, he wouldn’t know you moved at all. A vacant soul wandering just to survive. Jujutsu sorcerers unfairly make their peace with dying early on in their tenure, and maybe he’s committed you to a life of tragedy by involving himself so intimately with you.

When he dies, and he will— this life that he has chosen spares him no luxuries, not even false beliefs— he will condemn you to a brutal reality that he could have spared you from were he not so selfish. He hates seeing you like this. Hates it with every fiber of his being.

Death is a part of the process. He understands that. He just wishes it wasn’t so collateral. A prolonged state of your affliction that resulted from his hand would surely be a more painful fate than any gruesome death.

Your parent’s home is warm, in sharp contrast to the events of the day. And while they stayed with your sister, Kento insisted you return to your place of stay to wash and change if only to give you a moment alone; So he can check on you in the sanctity of privacy, grant you a brief respite from the unrelenting tide of sorrow, cherish you in these sparing instances that he can never take for granted.

You bathe alone, he gives you that. He makes tea the way your mother taught him how, even though you quite like the way he makes it and has it set on the table upon your return. Dressed in comfier attire and seated blankly at the table, he settles in beside you. His shoulder touching yours hoping to convey in this minute action that he’s here.

He doesn’t need the words to say it. Just his presence.

His hand too, as you settle your own silently in the space of his large one, gripping tightly onto the rough skin. He rubs his thumb along the back of your hand, bringing it to his lips as he placed two long kisses on its surface. You’ve made eye contact all day but this is the first time you’ve really looked at each other.

Where he can see the pain swimming in the pools of your irises behind the film of unshed tears and you can see the unrestrained sympathy and worry in his.

“She was eleven,” you whisper, unable to speak any louder.

He doesn’t say anything. There’s not much he can say, only press his lips harder to the back of your hand.

It’s the only moment you’ve had alone together since arriving, and while he was so desperate before to hear something, anything come from your mouth, he finds that the inactivity the fills space once more is rather appropriate. One that he doesn’t want to disturb. Not when there isn’t anything he can say that can heal this wound, nothing he can do except love and care for you when you’re too weak to do it yourself.

He places a hand behind your head, tilting you forward as he places his lips upon your forehead and smoothing the stray hairs that have displaced themselves from your formal hairdo. Fingers travel down the back of your neck and rub gentle circles on your shoulder, healing any aches with his touch.

“Drink,” he murmurs against your temple, and you do. A sign of progress that he relishes in. He’s more than eager to see the slow trek back to a state of normalcy, but he knows it’ll be different from here on out. There’s a hole in your heart and it will take a while to heal.

But he’ll be there. For as long as he can, whenever he can. Because that’s what love is.

Death is part of the process, but he finds it’s infinitely more manageable with you. He knows you feel the same way when at the end of the day as you lay side by side in the guest room of your parents’ home, you take comfort in the safety of his arms and finally, fill the air with something other than the prolonged silence and let him comfort you.

Death is part of the process, and he knows the inevitability of his own part in it. But in this moment with you, he’ll let himself indulge selfishly in your noise. It’s his favorite sound, after all.

end notes: come shoot me a message! i love hearing from yall.

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #my writing #adri your love for blond men is showing #nanami kento x you

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obscureoperations · 3 years

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And for the world record of asks, this person is back again. I’m just a huge sucker for your stories, I’m sorry bro 🤧🖤

When you have time and you feel like it why not try doing something like Martin’s s/o is a soldier and she just came home from, as my uncle said it, ‘Nam? So let’s say Martin is really excited since she’d been gone off and on for a couple years and a lot the final year it was all going on. He was getting ready to go to the air port but was working the last couple minutes of his shift. Then like a bus or something pulls up and she gets out and waits for him outside the shop. And he just kinda notices she’s like stoic and shell shocked so he tries his hardest to let her know he’s there and cares about her. I know that’s way too detailed but I’m a romantic fool for war reunitings like that. Also I apologize for the time shift lol. Hope you’re well, don’t feel like you have to write it 🖤

Ohh man, three decades later...

I really loved this ask, I thought it was really sweet<3 but apparently, I have to offer some sort of disclaimer.

I know nothing about war. I never wanted to be a solider. The closest I've got is an uncle who participated. I know nothing about Nam other than the textbooks-- and I'm not making light of anyone that died on either front. Let me just write the thing please... with no disrespect.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of your voice was etched into his brain, it was one of the few things that helped him fall asleep. He read the letters every day, the weeks were pretty much a blur. All filler days until Wednesday came and you had the opportunity to call him. There was so much he wanted to tell you, but he had no idea where to start. He just wanted to listen to your voice, you seemed excited at times-- almost exaggeratedly so. He just wanted to hold you. He refused to look at the news. He couldn’t imagine you immersed in such destruction. He only skimmed through the articles in fear that he might find your name in bold print in the very back.

Despite the situation, Martin was extremely proud of you. Your bravery, the sheer commitment to your country. You always said that you were going to enlist... so it didn’t matter whether or not you were drafted. For the longest, he figured you were joking. There was no way he could Imagine you, over there. Surrounded by chaos and destruction--and death. But, you were never more sure of anything in your entire life. He heard all the stories about your father,and his numerous accomplishments and accolades from war. The way your eyes would light up whenever you talked about him. He knew that you were about to live out your dream.

You were extremely serious about your training, you always had been. He was left in awe of your sheer athleticism. Even before you even mentioned your interest in enlisting-- you seemed as though you were preparing for something.

The weeks before your departure flew by in a blur. Each moment seemed to slip through his fingers, he wanted to be around you all the time. He tried to take in every detail, from your smile to the freckles on your cheeks. The way sunlight would bounce off your hair, the feel of your hand holding his. There was only time that he actually broke down, he actually begged you not to go. “We.. we can run off somewhere.. They’d never find you. J-just please don’t leave.” The words just seemed to escape, he instantly regretted them as he buried his face against your neck. He tried to control the sobs, but they continued to roll in wave after wave. So forceful, his voice no longer sounded like his own as his fingers grasp aimlessly at the hem of your shirt.

You weren’t phased...you didn’t yell at him for asking you to put off your dream. You began to rock him, gently as your fingers card through his hair “Sweetheart..it’s alright..It's gonna be alright. I wouldn’t leave if I felt any differently.” More muffled sobs, and you hold him tighter. You could faintly hear him mumble “I’m sorry” “It’s okay.” After a while, something seemed to switch over in his brain, you never lied. There was no way that you would leave him forever. You were going to be alright. He was sure of it. Needless to say he ended up ushering you upstairs, to your room. If Cuda wondered anything about him-- that was just too bad. He was adamant on staring with you for the rest of the night.

He shouldn’t be this nervous.. It was the moment he had been anticipating for years. You had been involved for the duration of the War, the Months home seemed so few and far in between. Every time you returned, he promised himself not to get disillusioned. He enjoyed the moments he had with you--but constantly had to remind himself that it was only temporary. Sure, it sounds like an awful way of living--but he refused to let himself become complacent. He didn’t want to pretend that everything was normal, and you were finally here for good. He clung to you all the tighter--seemingly finding fascination in the little things. He appreciated you so much more. The depth of your kindness,all the little things you did to show him your love.

Martin’s hands flew over the register keys in a flurry of motion. If he kept moving, his hands didn’t seem to shake. His stomach was in knots, heartbeat hammering against his ribs. He could still remember the call from yesterday at two thirty in the afternoon. It was a call directly to the store, somehow the ring didn’t sound the same. For some reason, an image of you flashed through his mind and for a moment he wanted to be sick. That was another recurring change since your departure. He was so afraid to pick up the telephone. He was so scared that someday he’d pick up the phone to be met with a stranger informing him of the worst.

He reaches for the receiver only to be met with an empty dial tone. Someone else must have grabbed it. Knowing Martin’s luck, it was probably Him. He did his best to reduce the line, scanning..bagging items in a frenzy. After a while, Cuda Moved to join him behind the counter, he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

The old Man had been alarmingly nice to him for the past few months. It was almost like when you first went away. Martin refused to leave his room, he’d neglect to come down for breakfast or supper. The old man would bang on the door, before slamming down the tray. “Eat! Nosferatu… I will not have you wither away in my house!” In a way your departure, and Martin’s reaction towards it left him actually human in Cuda’s eyes. He must care about the sanctity of human life just a bit. He cared about you. He tried to keep his insults to a minimum.

“Here… take it!” Cuda shoved the receiver into Martin’s hands.

He wanted to be sick… his vision began to blacken. He was expecting to be met with one of the patrol officer’s voices.

“H.. hello?”

“Baby, it’s over!”

It was you… he was so relieved.

“What?”

He could hear loud jeers from the background, muffled laughter as you spoke in the background.

“It’s over.. It’s finally over! I’m coming home on the next flight.”

From the sounds of it, you were at a pub or something, he could hear the jeers from your fellow soldiers. You seemed so overly happy, nearly frantic. He wanted to hold you so badly.

“Okay… When can I see you?” He tries to keep his voice as calm as possible. You weren’t calm in the least, he could already tell. You were simply trying to amp yourself up.. Attempting to sound excited as possible. His heart ached, just imagining everything that you’ve seen.

“Tomorrow.. Honey. Please meet me at the airport.” and with that, you hung up.

He would meet you there.

That night passed in a gray and grainy blur. He couldn't sleep, he kept envisioning your face. He continued to hear massive explosions, the sound of brick collapsing over mortar. Children crying as missiles explode. He had this vision of you huddled in a doorway with one of your fellow men clinging to your arm. He could almost feel your tears seeping into his shirt, Please hold me closer. Your eyes were wide and frantic as you search his face for any form of shelter.

You’re alright...y/n.. Everything’s okay. Just come back to me now

Once there was finally a lull in the barrage of customers, Martin found himself staring out the window. This was the day, he couldn’t wait till three thirty. He would be at the airport, eagerly awaiting for you to arrive. It must have been a smudge on the glass, or either his mind was really starting to slip. Directly outside, standing under a billboard for Pepsi cola, he saw a lone figure that eerily resembled you.

“No… couldn’t be. It was only half past noon. “

He steps in closer pretending to wipe off the glass--as he peers in through the window. All color seems to drain from his face, pins and needles. It was you. Poised directly outside the shop, at the bus stop- duffel bag resting at your feet. You looked so tired and thin, he could almost see right through you.

You looked incredibly gaunt, the delicate curves of your cheeks replaced with harsh lines and angles.Your head was tilted towards ground, you were fiddling with some small object in your hand. Martin rushes out in an instant, completely ignoring the older woman that stepped into line. Everything seemed to move in slow motion the second he barged out the door.

The cars honked at him as he darts across the street, it was mere seconds until he was at your side. Grasping at your hands. “ Y/n… love, please look at me!”

You seemed to be in a bit of a trance as you continued to fiddle with the object in hand. From the looks of it, it was a small polished stone. Martin really didn't need to know where it came from or from who. He didn’t stop to question it, all he needed was you. The moment your eyes actually met, his arms immediately moved to your waist. You nearly fainted. Whether from shock dehydration or whatever else-- you found your arms draped across his neck. He carried you inside the shop, past the customers--ignoring Cuda’s stare, all the way into the break room.

The old man’s eyes settled on you, and he decided to keep most of his complaints at bay. He was so tired of watching Martin melancholically wither away at the table. You were home now, and hopefully you'd move him out of his sight.

Martin rummaged through the coolers to find ice packs to place along your neck. Digging out fresh pieces of steak to soothe your swollen eyes. You could hear Cuda ranting behind the walls--you glance over to Martin fretting over the deep freezer.

“You know that it was you right?” Your voice was barely a whisper. Martin immediately drops the frozen slabs of beef in his hand, as he scrambles close to your side.

“Me what?” His fingers lightly trace over your arms as he nuzzles in close. After everything, he was not going to cry. Not again. You were actually here. The faint smell of your skin… and your shampoo. The way your right hand immediately entangles in his hair. He missed you so much. He began to tell you all the things that he wanted to say, without the restraints of parchment paper.

He wanted to take care of you. Despite your tightly starched uniform, the pins on your collar digging into his cheek, you were exhausted.. To the truest extent of the word.

You were slouched back against the brick, sitting on top of one of Cuda’s deep freezers. The sight alone reminded him of the beginning of your relationship. He wanted to scoop you up into his arms, only to escape through the back window and sprint back to your place.

But instead, he was finally looking at you, in all of your glory, and completely broken at the same time. He continued to hold you, arms draped across your waist as you murmured...

“The memory of your face..Mar-you've got me through so much. I was never gonna leave you."

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lawrenceop · 4 years

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HOMILY for Christ the King (EF)

Col 1:12-20; John 18:33-37

Today is the fiftieth anniversary of the canonisation in 1970 of the forty martyrs of England and Wales by Pope St Paul VI, in St Peter’s Basilica. Today, we recall the heroic sacrifice and brave witness to the truth of forty of our countrymen, from the Prior of the London Charterhouse, St John Houghton, executed at Tyburn in 1535, to the Welsh Jesuit St David Lewis, executed in 1679. Over the course almost 150 years, hundreds of faithful Catholics from every walk of life in English society were executed by the State, martyred for their refusal to allow the State to interfere with the fundamental rights of the Church.

For as Pope Pius XI said in 1925 when he instituted today’s annual feast of Christ the King: “[The Church] has a natural and inalienable right to perfect freedom and immunity from the power of the state; and that in fulfilling the task committed to her by God of teaching, ruling, and guiding to eternal bliss those who belong to the kingdom of Christ, she cannot be subject to any external power.” (Quas primas, 31) The Church and her bishops may, of course, prudently choose to co-operate with the State, but only if this does not hinder the mission and raison d’être of the Church, which is to lead souls to Christ through the preaching of the Gospel in its fullness, and through the faithful administration of the Sacraments of salvation.

For, beautiful and valuable and precious though our life and our friendships in this present lifetime are, today’s feast, and the deaths of the martyrs remind us of an often forgotten truth in our secularised world. We live, ultimately, not for this life and its joys and pleasures, but rather, all of this present life, whether it be long or short, is a preparation for the life of the world to come; this life on earth is that short time given to us in God’s providence during which we learn to forsake sin and, by the grace of Christ, we hope to increase in charity, so that we can become true citizens of God’s heavenly Kingdom. So, on the wall of his cell in the Tower of London St Philip Howard scratched these words: “Quanto plus afflictionis pro Christo in hoc saeculo, tanto plus gloriae in futuro”; ‘The more suffering for Christ in this life, the more glory in heaven’. Fittingly then, in 2020, on this feast day of Christ the King, do we recall the witness of these faithful servants of Jesus Christ who would deny their worldly earthly kings rather to forsake Christ the true and universal King. Hence St Thomas More famously said that he died “the king’s good servant, but God’s first.”

The Church, therefore, must always point beyond this world, and call humanity to serve God’s kingdom, to repent of sin and prideful error, and so to be saved by Christ the King. Thus, commenting on today’s Gospel, Pope Pius XI said: “Before the Roman magistrate [Christ] declared that his kingdom was not of this world. The gospels present this kingdom as one which men prepare to enter by penance, and cannot actually enter except by faith and by baptism, which, though an external rite, signifies and produces an interior regeneration. This kingdom is opposed to none other than to that of Satan and to the power of darkness. It demands of its subjects a spirit of detachment from riches and earthly things, and a spirit of gentleness. They must hunger and thirst after justice, and more than this, they must deny themselves and carry the cross.” (Quas primas, 15)

The forty martyrs who we especially remember today exemplify the ultimate self-denial and carrying of the Cross that is demanded of us Christians. This group of English and Welsh Martyrs, just a small representation of the hundreds executed during the so-called Reformation, is composed of 13 diocesan priests (or secular clergy), 3 Benedictines, 3 Carthusians, 1 Brigittine, 2 Franciscans, 1 Augustinian, 10 Jesuits and 7 members of the laity, including 3 mothers. And all of them sacrificed everything for the sake of the Holy Mass and the Sacraments; for the unity of Christ’s Church in communion with the Pope; for the sake of the sacred Priesthood through whom we receive the Sacraments; and for the sake of Christ’s teaching on the sanctity of marriage and family life. Therefore, in our times and in our country, we honour these holy men and women, and we show ourselves to be their friends, if we love what they love. So, let us love the Mass and the one holy Catholic and apostolic Church; love the Holy Father and pray for him; love your clergy, pray for them and uphold them with care and help; love your husband, your wife, and as a family bear witness to the love and joy of the Gospel. For as Pope Francis says: “The triune God is a communion of love, and the family is its living reflection.” (Amoris lætitia, 11) The Christian family, therefore, bears witness as a vestige of the Holy Trinity; the presence of the loving God at work among us, extending the reign of Christ one household at a time. Therefore, enthrone Christ in your homes, in your families, and in your own hearts.

What does this entail? Pope Pius XI said, Jesus Christ “must reign in our minds, which should assent with perfect submission and firm belief to revealed truths and to the doctrines of Christ. He must reign in our wills, which should obey the laws and precepts of God. He must reign in our hearts, which should spurn natural desires and love God above all things, and cleave to him alone. He must reign in our bodies and in our members, which should serve as instruments for the interior sanctification of our souls”. The forty martyrs, again, demonstrate the consequence of being given over to the reign of Christ: we would be willing to die for the truths of the Gospel; willing to give up sin and to behave and act in ways that please God; willing to work and suffer in order to uphold the Kingdom of God in our world, while labouring to defeat the lies and falsehoods of the Enemy. However, it is most noteworthy in the accounts of their lives and their final words that the forty martyrs of England and Wales did all this without rancour or bitterness or anger or hatred. Instead, they spoke with humour, serenity, and humility, always acting with charity. For this is the genuine sign that Christ is their King. Let it be so for each of us too, especially in these difficult and polarised times. Hence Pope Pius XI said: “in a spirit of holy joy [let us] give ample testimony of [our] obedience and subjection to Christ.” For, as Pope Francis says, “we all have to let the joy of faith slowly revive as a quiet yet firm trust, even amid the greatest distress.” (Evangelii gaudium, 6) It is a joy that flows from a childlike confidence and trust in God’s love, in the victory of the Risen Lord Jesus; a joy that springs from a firm faith in divine Providence.

This is the joy of the martyr, of the subjects of Christ the King, for they know that, at the end, all of creation, all human history, all time and creatures shall fall “under the dominion of Christ. [And] in him is the salvation of the individual, in him is the salvation of society.” (Quas primas, 18) Hence Pope Pius XI, reflecting on the set-backs and seeming defeats that the Church has endured, and on the crises caused by persecutions and martyrdoms, gave witness to his trust in God’s Providence and his Kingship. He said: “the admirable wisdom of the Providence of God, who, ever bringing good out of evil, has from time to time suffered the faith and piety of men to grow weak, and allowed Catholic truth to be attacked by false doctrines, but always with the result that truth has afterwards shone out with greater splendour, and that men's faith, aroused from its lethargy, has shown itself more vigorous than before.” (Quas primas, 22)

My brothers and sisters, such is the time we live in: we witness the daily rise of anti-clericalism, the burning of churches and the destruction of Christian statues and images; doctrinal confusion and laxity, and the corruption of morals in every strata of society, and so on. And yet, with great confidence in the triumph of Gospel truth; with faith in the victory of the Lamb that was slain (as we recalled in today’s Officium); and with hope in the universal Kingship of Jesus Christ over the hearts of men and women, we can repeat in our time these words of St Robert Southwell, the Jesuit priest who was caught ministering in London. Shortly before his martyrdom at Tyburn he said: “It seems to me that I see the beginning of a religious life in England, of which we now sow in seeds of tears, that others hereafter may with joy carry in sheaves.”

May the joy of acknowledging Christ as King reign now in our hearts, and may God’s all powerful grace convert the hearts of our England and Wales, and all nations. As we prayed in today’s Collect, may “all the families of nations… be brought under the sweet yoke of [Christ’s] rule.” Amen!

#forty martyrs #england and wales #Church #Christ the King #salvation #heaven #hope #providence

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miss-rosie · 4 years

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My dad was watching the news tonight like he always does and they were showing footage from a protest in our area around a police precinct because of the death of George Floyd. The protest started out peaceful, people were marching through the streets shouting his name and carrying signs, no one was hurting anyone or destroying anything. But then two hours into it a black kid ran up to a police car and smashed the back window with his skateboard before running back into the crowd. My dad had been silent the entire time the news was covering the protest until this moment. But the moment this kid smashed his skateboard into the window he got super angry and shouted “they should’ve shot him!”

I’m telling you I have never been more disgusted to hear something come out of his mouth than in that moment. I’m a closeted bisexual and he’s an extremely conservative homophobic catholic, so I’ve heard some fucked up shit from him. But this made me so disgusted and ashamaed to be his daughter. This man was so filled with anger at a teenage boy who was rilled up from the protest and rightfully upset about the man who was just brutally murdered by 4 white cops and made a rash decision to smash a window, not even hurting anyone, that he would actually say that the kid deserved to die. That’s the whole reason the protest was happening in the first place, because a black man was killed for a insignificant crime. Maybe instead of being angry at the kid who smashed his skateboard into a car window because he was rightfully upset about everything going on right now, he should turn his anger towards the white police officers who murdered this innocent black man for no reason except hatred and straight up racism. Maybe he should direct his anger towards all the police officers who’ve shot and killed innocent black people just going about their daily lives, going for a run, going to church, holding a cellphone, just because of the color of their skin. Maybe he should be angry about the actual fucking problem instead of adding to the problem.

This whole day and the past week or so it’s been really weighing on me just how massive of a problem this is. The fact that I hadn’t realized it until it started blowing up on the media, or at least not realized how often it happens. I’m disappointed in myself for not doing more. I’ve been feeling hopeless. Hopeless for the future, for this generation, for the next generation, for our country. It’s become very clear to me that change isn’t as easy to make as I thought. We can protest and riot and sign petitions and post on our social media all day long. But the truth of the matter is that these people can’t and won’t be changed. If I have to sit there and try to explain to someone why they should care about another human’s life and an innocent person’s murder, that in itself is proof that these people can’t be reached. That’s not something that should need to be explained. If they see this happening and aren’t automatically outraged, nothing anyone says to them, no way anyone explains the situation, no new perspective is going to change their minds. These people don’t even realize how racist they are and it’s disgusting. And it’s so discouraging. And tonight I realized that my dad is one of those people, and I can’t change him. And that was so heartbreaking. I realized that no matter how much I care and how hard I try to make him realize why he needs to care about this issue, it’s not going to change the fact that he’s racist. His first instinct tonight was to say that an innocent boy should’ve been shot just for smashing a window. If my dad was a police officer in that rally, how do I know he wouldn’t have actually pulled the trigger? That’s a horrifying thought. But it’s so disheartening to know that nothing I say will change that part of him. I don’t like to stay silent about anything I believe in, I’ve always been that way. If I’m passionate about something I’m gonna go out of my way to teach other people about it and spread awareness and make a difference. And that’s always made people upset, so I’m used to having friends and people I barely even know argue with me about things I believe in simply because I care about them. I’m used to people not hearing what I’m saying and refusing to open their eyes to the severity of a situation because it would make them uncomfortable to deal with. But this is just a whole new level. This is people’s lives we’re talking about now. I can take it when someone purposely throws their plastic wrapper in a trash can just to get a rise out of me but this is different. This isn’t just about getting a rise on me anymore, this is about standing up for innocent people’s lives. How can he sit here talking for hours about how abortion is horrible because the babies are just innocent lives being taken and how he respects the “sanctity of life” but then turn around and do nothing when innocent lives are being taken everyday just because of their race. He, being a white man living in this country, can afford to turn a blind eye to this and not be affected at all. But it’s time for white people to stop standing aside and staying quiet just because they can afford to, because black people don’t have that choice. They have to teach their kids how to not “act black” so they won’t make any white people uncomfortable and end up getting shot, they have to fear for their lives any time they set foot out of their houses because the world is so full of people who hate them just because of their race. It’s time for white people to stop using their privledge as a shield to protect them from having to face the reality of the world and start using it as a weapon to fight back against the wrong being committed against those who don’t have the platform or the privledge to defend themselves.

#blacklivesmatter #georgefloyd #george floyd #just my posts

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moonlitgleek · 5 years

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Isn't Rhaegar absolved from his actions due to the fact that the prophecy is true and his son with Lyanna is the savior of the human race? Isn't Jaehaerys II absolved from his since the prophecy was true and TPTWP, in fact, is born of Aerys and Rhaella's line? I know we can mull over how Rhaegar could have done things differently to get his third child, but it seems that it was destiny. With Jaehaerys II, there wasn't even another option but to force the marriage to fulfill the prophecy.

Neither is absolved, no. Because the ends do not justify the means, and destiny is only what we make of it.

So many characters in this series act on the rationale that the greater good merits any number of sacrifices made in its name, which is also often used to justify and minimize blatant atrocities. Varys plays with people’s lives and maims children on the thought that King Aegon will right all the wrongs in Westeros. Mel argues that burning children alive is a necessary price for the survival of everyone else. Rhaegar treats the thousands of lives lost over the course of the rebellion as an acceptable collateral damage for a prophetic enterprise. Stannis is on the path to fall to that same viewpoint of a necessary sacrifice (”we do not choose our destinies” You do, Stannis. You do. You’re the only one who can choose). Robert’s council tries to frame Dany’s assassination attempt in the context of how ending two lives would spare thousands. Tywin tries to spin the Red Wedding as something that spares countless lives that would have fallen if the war continued. Mirri Maz Duur kills an unborn child on a crime he has not committed. Bloodraven may have honed Euron’s magical abilities on the notion that it would be worth it in the end, and he has a history of working on the basis of “the ends justify the means” during his tenure as Hand (e.g, killing Aenys Blackfyre in a breach of safe conduct, letting the Greyjoys pillage and reave as they please because he was too focused on the Blackfyres, etc). Though there is an obvious variance in the overall morality and sincerity between these character, all of them give the same rationale of a necessary evil done in the name of a greater good. If you have to sacrifice a few to save everyone else, if you have to sacrifice one person to save everyone else, it’s a no brainer, right? What is one life opposite everyone else?

The answer is “everything”

Human lives are worth so much more than being means to an end. Putting people on the chopping block for “the greater good” dehumanizes them by reducing them to sacrificial lambs in the name of a higher purpose. But ASOIAF has always advocated for the recognition of the value of life and respect for the sanctity of human life. Though the methods may vary, the text remains loud and clear in its refusal of dehumanizing ideologies, whether the source is human characters like Tywin Lannister, Robert Baratheon or Randyll Tarly, or supernatural creatures like the Others who are the literal embodiment of dehumanization. ASOIAF is about the fight for our common humanity, for recognizing that humanity regardless of things like class or race or which side of a magical wall you were born on. But you can not fight for our common humanity by devaluing people’s lives. You can not use the argument of “doing it for humanity” to disregard the humanity of those being sacrificed. That cold ruthless pragmatism is not the point of this series; the fight against it is. That’s been the point from the first prologue when Wymar Royce stared the abyss in the face and charged at it.

That’s why the support of the narrative lies with characters like Ned Stark and Davos Seaworth who refuse to give into the idea that the cruelty and dehumanization is necessary for the greater good. Through them, GRRM delivers the point that every single human life matters. That saving one person can mean everything. That it’s not naive to think that one life is worth everything. Protecting the one is not inherently inferior to protecting the many. The greater good can just as well lie in saving one person. Which it did in the case of Ned and Jon.

I think it’s pretty significant that Ned had no idea about the prophecy or what role Jon would play when he protected Jon, while Rhaegar who did know made everything exponentially harder. There’s a rather underappreciated irony in the fact that Rhaegar (and Jaehaerys) had little to do with fulfilling the prophecy; in fact, they jeopardized it. They may have orchestrated the circumstances under which Jon and Dany could be conceived, but a closer look shows that Jon and Dany were born mostly in spite of them and their actions. I mean, Jaehaerys married Rhaella off so young it impacted her health and her ability to bear living children. She almost died at Summerhall along with Rhaegar in an ill-fated attempt to hatch dragons, and while that’s mostly on Aegon V, I expect that Jaehaerys was fully on board as well considering the measures he took for the prophecy. Rhaegar impregnated a teenager and left her to give birth in less than ideal circumstances, and spurred a civil war thing that weakened the realm and put his entire family at risk and got a few of them killed. I can only describe their efforts as counterproductive.

But I find it extremely fitting that they ended up doing little and less for the War for the Dawn, because Rhaegar and Jaehaerys embraced the metaphorical cold in their quest to fight it. Jaehaerys reduced Rhaella to an incubator for a savior as if her humanity and her worth are narrowed down to her womb. Rhaegar was willing to see thousands of people die for his vision of what the prophecy required. They allowed themselves to decide people’s worth. Rhaella, Elia and Lyanna mattered only as much as the children they could bear, and those children mattered only as much as their prophetic roles. Rickard, Brandon, their entourage and the rest of the casualties of the rebellion mattered not at all. But that’s not how it works. Rhaegar and Jaehaerys don’t get to decide people’s worth. They don’t get to decide which lives matter more. They do not get to devalue other people’s lives because these lives are not theirs to decide what to do with. Individual lives matter, not because of a prophetic destiny but because of their humanity.

That’s why I don’t see the prophecy as Rhaegar and Jaehaerys’ absolution, but rather their hubris.I get the sense that they acted on the assumption that the prophecy would make everything alright in the end, especially Rhaegar, and so ended up missing the entire point. They got so entangled in their interpretations of the prophecy that they did everything wrong. Got a lot wrong too since Rhaegar wasn’t even trying to get the Prince that Was Promised from Lyanna; I doubt her was even aiming for a boy. Hatching dragons in Summerhall ended on a tragedy. And of course, no one ever accounted for Tyrion. But the prophecy, true as it may be, doesn’t make things go a certain way; people do.

Which brings me to what you say about how it was destiny that Rhaegar acted like he did instead of other alternatives available to him. This argument fundamentally misunderstands a rather significant theme of this series - that it’s our choices that define who we are. Through the political and magical plots alike, individual choice is held up as immensely important to the point where many characters’ existential victory lies in that choice, the clearest case of all is how the three heads of the dragon have to contend with some version of this dilemma.

It all goes back and back, Tyrion thought, to our mothers and fathers and theirs before them. We are puppets dancing on the strings of those who came before us, and one day our own children will take up our strings and dance on in our steads.

Does Dany have “the taint” of madness? Is Jon’s decision to fight his or is it an inevitability orchestrated by prophecy and Rhaegar Targrayen? Can Tyrion break free of the toxic legacy left behind by Tywin? Do they get to define who they are on their own terms or are they beholden to their lineage and their ancestor’s legacy? That’s for them to decide.

“Yet soon or late in every man’s life comes a day when it is not easy, a day when he must choose.”

Maester Aemon lays down the bare bones of this recurring theme in Jon’s arc. Across multiple books, Jon faces the choice of keeping to his watch or leaving several times which only frames the significance of how his destiny as one of the saviors of Westeros lies in him making that choice. Jon’s “chosen one” status has always been linked to him taking control of his future and deciding for himself. It’s him choosing to stay in Castle Black despite his appalled discovery of the reality of the Watch and to take his vows despite his frustration with the appointment to the stewards. It’s him going with Qhorin Halfhand of his own accord. It’s him picking the Wall over deserting for Robb or Ygritte. It’s him making a conscious decision to be the leader of the fight at the Wall over Stannis’ offer of Winterfell. It’s him taking responsibility of the free folk and recognizing that the commonality of being human is what matters. Jon is on the forefront of the text’s central conflict by virtue of his choices.

Dany is also fighting for our common humanity over in Slaver’s Bay. Her arc is basically a hard fought battle for autonomy, whether hers or the slaves’. Dany fights for freedom, for people’s right to choose, for them to be recognized as people not things to be gifted and sold. “Have you asked them?”, she challenges when Xaro Xohan Daxos argues that slaves have no use for freedom because they were made to be used. But Xaro Xohan Daxos doesn’t get to decide others’ fates, neither do the slavers of Astapor, Yunkai and Meereen. They don’t get to deprive them of their right to choose. People’s lives do not belong to them to decide what to do with. They don’t get to strip them of their free will or dehumanize them by treating them as things to be used to their satisfaction.

Because that’s what the Others are doing. They are supernatural slavers coming with their ice cold chains and stealing every single choice from humanity, right to the choice of dying. You can’t even die. They will resurrect you and force you to be their undead puppet.Mankind can’t even choose death because they will rip death from your grasp and drag your corpse up to join their army. The real threat in this text is a supernatural embodiment of dehumanization and taking away people’s choice. The War for the Dawn is nothing if not a fight for freedom, for the right to choose and to be human.

So the idea of “destiny” controlling how things go? It goes against the very heart of the series. Destiny is nothing but a series of choices deliberately made by individuals to shape the future. There is no fixed inescapable narrative that they can’t deviate from, or some all powerful cosmic power dictating how they should act. Even in the presence of magical visions, it remains the characters’ choices that decide their future. They get the prophecies but what they do with it is on them because the prophecies do not decide who they are. For all the magical elements and prophetic visions in this narrative, it remains that one of the things that the story emphasizes again and again is that our choices matter. They have meaning and they have consequences. Nothing is inevitable unless we make it so.

And that needs to hold true for the story to have any kind of meaning. Acting as if there is some kind of predetermined destiny that compels people to act in a particular way means that literally no one is responsible for their actions. People were just always meant to do what they did. Everyone is bound with chains of magic, lineage and a mystical force that has free reign to manipulate them. Free will is only an illusion fed to pawns that have no control. And if that’s the case, you can no longer hold anyone accountable. How can you call a person good or evil if no one has the capacity to choose their path? How can you hold anyone responsible either for their heroics or their atrocities? And if there is no good and evil, if honor and corruption get tarred by the same brush, if you have no basis to distinguish between the true knights and the false ones, then the only choice is truly “you win or you die”. Which is bullshit. These are false binaries and are far, far from being the measure of triumph.

ASOIAF has never been a story about the futility of ideals but rather about the fight to hold onto those ideals. About how“the battle between good and evil is fought largely within the individual human heart, by the decisions that we make”. It all comes down to a choice and to the accountability for that choice. This series is rife with people trying to sidestep responsibility for their decisions, from Tywin maintaining plausible deniability to Robert willfully closing his eyes to corruption and transferring blame onto the next convenient target to Roose cultivating “a peaceful land, a quiet people” to Littlefinger keeping “clean hands” to Barristan Selmy and Arys Oakheart hiding behind their vows to justify their inaction in the face of tyranny. But they don’t get to outrun their responsibility for their own decisions. No one gets off scot-free, not because of vows of obedience, not because of corrupt systems, and not because of some notion of an inescapable destiny. The narrative won’t let them.

You must make that choice yourself, and live with it all the rest of your days.

#asoiaf #asoiaf meta #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf themes #r plus l equals j #the war for the dawn #rhaegar targaryen #jaehaerys ii targaryen #jon snow #daenerys targaryen #the prince that was promised prophecy #Anon asks #ask box

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mattchase82 · 3 years

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Saint Juliana Falconieri

Virgin (1270-1340)

Patronage: bodily ills, sick people, sickness

Saint Juliana Falconieri was born in 1270, in answer to prayer. Her father was the builder of the splendid church of the Annunziata in Florence, while her uncle, Saint Alexis Falconieri, became one of the seven Founders of the Servite Order. Under his surveillance Juliana grew up more like an angel than a human being, as he said. Her great modesty was remarkable; never during her entire lifetime did she look at her reflection in a mirror. The mere mention of sin made her shudder and tremble, and once, on hearing of a scandal, she fainted.

Her devotion to the sorrows of Our Lady drew her to the Servants of Mary or Servite Order, and at the age of fourteen, after refusing an offer of marriage, she received the habit from Saint Philip Benizi, General of the Order. Her sanctity attracted many novices, for whose direction she was bidden to draw up a rule, and thus she became foundress of the Mantellate.

She was the servant of her Sisters rather than their mistress, while outside her convent she led a life of apostolic charity, converting sinners, reconciling enemies, and healing the sick. She was sometimes rapt for whole days in ecstasy, and her prayers saved the Servite Order when it was in danger of being suppressed.

Saint Juliana in her old age suffered various painful illnesses. She was wasting away through a disease of the stomach which prevented her taking food, and bore her silent agony with constant cheerfulness, grieving only for the privation of Holy Communion. At last, when in her seventieth year she was at the point of death, she begged to be allowed once more to see and adore the Blessed Sacrament. It was brought to her cell and reverently laid on a corporal, which was placed over her heart. At this moment she expired, and the Sacred Host disappeared. After her death the form of the Host was found stamped upon her heart, at the exact spot over which the Blessed Sacrament had been placed. Saint Juliana died in her convent in Florence in 1340. Miracles have been frequently effected through her intercession.

Reflection. Meditate often, says Saint Paul of the Cross, on the sorrows of the Blessed Mother, sorrows inseparable from those of Her beloved Son. If you seek the Cross, there you will find the Mother; and where the Mother is, there also is the son.

Prayer to Venerate Any Saint

Saint Juliana Falconieri: Feast Day June 19

I desire therefore, first of all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all men: For kings, and for all that are in high station: that we may lead a quiet and a peaceable life in all piety and chastity. For this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour, Who will have all men to be saved, and to come to the knowledge of the truth. (1 Timothy 2:1-4)

And another angel came, and stood before the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given to him much incense, that he should offer of the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar, which is before the throne of God. And the smoke of the incense of the prayers of the saints ascended up before God from the hand of the angel. (Rev. 8:3-4)

ETERNAL Father, I wish to honor St. (Name), and I give Thee thanks for all the graces Thou have bestowed upon him (her). I ask Thee to please increase grace in my soul through the merits of this saint, and I commit the end of my life to him (her) by this special prayer, so that by virtue of Thine goodness and promise, St. (Name) might be my advocate and provide whatever is needed at that hour. Amen.

PROMISE: "When you wish to honor any particular saint and give Me thanks for all the graces I have bestowed on that saint, I increase grace in your soul through the merits of that saint. When you commit the end of your life to any of the saints by special prayers, I appoint those saints to be your advocates and to provide whatever you need at that hour."-Our Lord to St. Gertrude

Blessed Anne Catherine Emmerich revealed in her Visions that saints are particularly powerful on their feast days and should be invoked then

#catholicism #traditional catholic #catholic #christianity #heaven #love #jesus christ #its the truth #catholic saints #catholic faith #christian faith #saint Juliana Falconieri #catholic prayers #catholiscism

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emilyiannielli · 4 years

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I never thought I’d be witness in my house to a deadly pandemic playing out on national tv 📺 and the deaths of hundreds of thousands of people on a global scale and a complete abdication of presidential power that is thrown into the hands of each state governor who all have different agendas where some are closing down all non essential work and others are wanting to operate as if it was pre-covid-19 because the president refuses to nationalize the effort so now chaos ensues!

I never thought that many hardworking Americans would all of a sudden be thrust into joblessness through no fault of their own because the pandemic forced businesses and schools to close because Trump refused to listen to his advisors about the emergence of a deadly pandemic that was already hitting China 🇨🇳 and decided to ride out the prospects of the pandemic in the states without any planning or precautionary action taken!

In fact this bozo, Trump decimated the pandemic response team by dismantling it in 2017 because President Obama saw the need for such a crucial department to fight pandemics and infectious diseases with highly qualified personnel yet Trump fired hundreds of those scientists and he also walked away from the Paris Climate Change/Global Warming Accords which was another disastrous decision he made but again this was another Obama initiative that Trump quashed for no good reason other than hatred and jealousy!

I never thought I’d see schools of all levels and colleges and universities close globally with the exception of Sweden 🇸🇪 in my lifetime!

Now the ignoramus in chief wants to re-open the country while more than 60k in the states have died with over 1M cases testing positive and 200k dying globally with over 3M cases testing positive.

Many meat processing plants are hotspots for the coronavirus and people are dying from it and many are closing because they can’t operate safely yet the bozo in chief today, April 29, 2020 has issued an executive order to force the plants open when clearly it’s very dangerous and will be catastrophic!

This bozo in chief on national television 📺 said he recommends that people ingest/inject Clorox and Lysol and insert ultraviolet lights into their body orifices like their mouth or their ass to prevent covid-19 from hurting them but he failed to tell them that if they follow his advice they will die from poison effects on the body!

There have been millions of calls placed to poison control centers and hospitals asking if its ok to drink Clorox bleach or spray Lysol in their mouth or put UV lights💡 up their ass to protect them from the coronavirus to the horror of the switchboard operators, doctors, nurses and state governors!

To add insult to injury Bozo in second command Pence goes to meet with doctors and nurses at a national hospital 🏥 in Minnesota without a mask and everyone around him were wearing masks 😷 and this moron defies the hospital protocols because he’s too afraid to stand up to Trump!

Trump is such a divisive force in our country and clearly is favoring red states over blue states and demands all state governors to kiss his ass!

Trump is killing migrant farmers picking our fruits and vegetables and our farmers milking the cows and growing the corn 🌽 by refusing to protect them as they die from coronavirus!

Trump/Pence should be hit by covid-19 so maybe they’d finally realize this ain’t no fucking hoax like the Trump News Network, Fox News suggests!

I have seen enough of this insanity and if those blood hungry for power GOP members continue to support this disaster in chief and push for his re-election I will fucking take my life because I’ve fucking had it and I refuse to go through another 4 fucking years with this dictator in chief!

Our doctors, nurses, first responders and innocent people are dying in droves because of Trump/Pence/GOP and already doctors and nurses are committing suicide because they can no longer handle seeing so many people dying on a daily basis!

Get me out of this fucked up country with this fucked up leadership!

If this is maga then I’d rather be dead 💀 now!

No country in their right mind wants to deal with America because of Trump!

Save our country!

Vote Trump/Pence/GOP out of office November 2020!

Vote Blue 2020!

This is America’s and the world’s 🌎 darkest days!

Edward D Iannielli III

Emily ❤️🙏🌎

Facebook: if you delete this post or take my page down then I will realize you care more about Trump than me and the precious sanctity of human life!

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thestrategicmom · 4 years

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2020 Vision (Part 4): Using Faith to Find Serenity in Times of Disruption and Despair

Over the last few months, weeks, and days, many of us have told ourselves to have faith countless times, or said it to friends and loved ones to provide hope when things seemed hopeless. The U.S. COVID-19 death toll has well surpassed 100,000, over 40 million Americans are out of work, and for those of us fortunate enough to be physically healthy and still employed, the erosion of boundaries between our personal and professional lives is taking a significant toll on our mental health.

To add insult to one hell of an injury, I feel a sick sense of déjà vu as new cases of Black Americans being killed in their homes, gunned down while jogging, and mercilessly choked on video show that the fight for the mere acknowledgement of black life has made little, if any, progress.

It’s in these moments that the power of our renewed 2020 vision and our four focus areas (gratitude; intentionality; optimism; and faith/serenity) come to the forefront, while also remaining the backbone of who we are, who we want to be, who we ultimately become, and how our influence/energy is shared with those around us;

First, we explored gratitude, the seed of joy. Gratitude challenges us to find peace and contentment by being appreciative for what we have and what is. Gratitude is the beginning, the alpha. We can’t begin to see or appreciate what joys, opportunities, and possibilities lay ahead if we haven’t taken the time to appreciate what is and what’s already come to pass.

Second, we focused on intentionality, our directional compass and giver of focus. Intentionality pushes us to define our values and infuse meaning and purpose into our thoughts, decisions, and actions. Intentionality not only helps us envision the life we want by figuring out what matters most, it also gives us a guide for determining what steps we should take to make our vision a reality.

Third, we explored optimism, a mindset filter and problem-solving strategy. Optimism empowers us to harness our positive energy to maintain a sense of resilience, hope, and resourcefulness when dealing with life’s inevitable challenges. Optimism is both a confidence that things will work out, and an acceptance that if they don’t, you can and will bounce back. Optimism helps train our minds to see challenges, disappointments, and sometimes, outright failures, as temporary setbacks rather than permanent roadblocks.

Unfortunately, as recent times have shown, sometimes we face Goliath-sized challenges that are so scary, so complex, that even the strongest of optimism isn’t enough. Herein lies the power of our fourth focus area, faith and serenity. Faith is defined as ‘complete trust or confidence in someone or something.’ Faith sustains us and offers us the solace we need to keep going no matter what we’re enduring or the obstacles ahead. Regardless of what you have faith in, having faith is critical to a life of love, happiness, and fulfillment. When used properly, faith culminates in a feeling of serenity, which is defined as a state of being calm, peaceful and untroubled. Serenity offers a deep-seated peace and unlocks the ability to connect with our purpose by believing that everything will turn out all right in the end.

While we typically think of faith through the lens of God or religion, faith is a much broader concept that also involves having faith in ourselves and extends to having faith in others.

Faith / Trust in Something Bigger

There will always be uncertainty, ambiguity, and challenges that are too overwhelming to wrap our heads around. This is where believing that we’re a part of something bigger than ourselves becomes so critical. Whether it’s trusting in a higher being like God, spirituality, or some other value system, it’s important to trust that we are all part of a bigger picture, which in turn gives serenity to our crazy and often unsettling realities.

Dedicate time to connecting and improving your faith: The same way we carve out time to feed our minds, and our bodies, we have to similarly carve out time to feed our souls. Build habits that help to sustain and grow your faith. Pray often, read inspiring books and religious texts, and engage with others who can challenge or push you in your faith.

Make Space for Your Inner Voice: Have you ever sat in a dark room alone with no sound? The silence can initially feel quite unnerving, but if you resist the temptation to grab your phone, you’ll start to really notice what’s on your mind. These moments create time and space for your inner voice to speak. Some call this inner voice God, others call it their gut, but regardless of what the voice sounds like, we must create the quiet space for us to hear it. So find ways to quiet the noise and negative self-talk through prayer, meditation, or even just incorporating a one-minute mindfulness exercise into your day.

Reflect on who came before you and those who’ll come after: The most readily accessible evidence that there’s a bigger plan at work is demonstrated by legacy. Our parents, grandparents, and great grandparents lived through similar yet uniquely different challenges, and their decisions and actions allowed us to be here today, living this version of the present. Similarly, a brief glimpse at your kids and the possibility of what they can achieve long after you are gone is another way to begin to envision what this far-reaching forest could be, even though you’re just a tree.

Faith / Trust in Self

A key element of faith that’s often overlooked is faith in self. We must trust in ourselves and have faith that we’re good enough to reclaim the power we often surrender to our fears, and boldly create the life we want. With intentionality and effort, self-trust can get us out of our own way and offer an internal GPS that enables us to more confidently act, make decisions, and seize all that life has to offer.

Give your Intuition some Credit: One of the best ways to reinforce trust in yourself is to reflect on your life, focusing on times when your inner voice has served you. Maybe it was a leap of faith that changed your life for the better, or maybe you listened to your intuition about your health or your children, and it made all the difference. For me, it was the decision to move to Nashville to pursue my JD/MBA, where, little did I know, I would grow leaps and bounds in my thinking and faith just in time to meet my soulmate. Reflecting on these moments reminds us to trust ourselves and have confidence in our ability to make decisions without crowdsourcing the answers.

Be honest with yourself: Like my papa would say, ‘Say what you mean, and mean what you say,’ which implicitly means ‘say what you mean, and do what you say.’ If there are commitments you make to yourself around areas like health, your relationships, or your development, follow through with them. It’s been really difficult to stay disciplined with my writing and exercise given how mentally and emotionally draining the last few months have been, but I refuse to give up on myself. Yes, I’ll take a break, but I won’t quit, and frankly neither should you. Quitting undermines our self-confidence, but honoring these commitments enables us to build trust and faith in who we are, who we can be, and the impact we can make.

Faith / Trust in Others

Believing and having faith in yourself and something bigger are just part of the equation. We’re not in this thing alone, so we can’t forget to have faith in each other. Trust that there are others that care about your well-being, support you, and want to see you win. While people aren’t always good and often fail to meet our expectations, we can’t lose hope in their ability to be good and do better.

Let your light shine: We all have talents, strengths, and gifts that can inspire, motivate, and help others. This is our light onto the world, and we should seize every opportunity to let it shine. Embrace the countless ways to share your gifts every day. For me, it’s writing, cooking, teaching, and chasing any opportunity to be a light and blessing to someone else. Think about what’s important to you, what you’re passionate about, and what you’re good at. What problems in this world can you use those gifts and strengths to solve? Now, stop thinking and start doing. Whether at home or beyond our homes, trusting others with our gifts is how we use our lives to serve a greater purpose.

Give people an opportunity to grow and improve: If you take a look at the news, reflect on history, or consider your personal experiences, you’ll likely come up with a laundry list of reasons why not to have faith in people; however, despite what we’ve heard, seen, or experienced, we can’t stop believing in others’ ability to listen, empathize, grow, and as Spike Lee would say, ‘do the right thing.’ Acknowledge the hurt and pain of the past but don’t dwell on it; lead with love, openness, and acceptance. Peaceful protests attended by thousands who are risking their lives to demand that our public servants, neighbors and government officials honor the sanctity of all human life is an inspiring example of faith in people. So, don’t just sit on the sidelines, join the movement! Whether it’s sharing your experience, actively listening and looking to learn from others, or working with like-minded people to be the change you want to see, keep trusting, keep believing, and keep building a more just and loving community, brick by brick.

Whenever in doubt or whenever your faith begins to waver, return to gratitude. Think of the things you have, your experiences, your gifts, and most importantly, the people that surround you. They are living manifestations of something bigger, and constant examples of the enduring impact we can make on that bigger picture when we love, encourage, and appreciate one another.

Right now, the future may seem somewhat dark and uncertain, but faith allows us to believe and have confidence in a future we can’t see, people we don’t know, and a version of our self we haven’t yet discovered. When combined with gratitude, intentionality, and optimism, we have everything we need to shine a light on our path ahead and forge a way to manifest our vision individually and as a collective society. This in turn enables us to attain a sense of peace, or better yet serenity about whatever lays ahead this year, next year, and long after our lifetime. We all have burning questions about the future of our family, our country and our society, and while faith doesn’t answer the questions, it gives us serenity in knowing that regardless of the answers, everything will turn out okay. So... Have faith!

If you enjoyed this post and would like more information on being intentional with your life, join my mailing list for updates and check out my posts on value and goal-based living, intentional self-care, childcare and development, and relationships.

#Vision #The Strategic Mom

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iprayunceasingly-blog · 5 years

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In Canada, Catholic school district explains conduct code amid lawsuit

New Post has been published on https://pray-unceasingly.com/catholic-living/catholic-news/in-canada-catholic-school-district-explains-conduct-code-amid-lawsuit/

In Canada, Catholic school district explains conduct code amid lawsuit

Calgary, Canada, Dec 10, 2018 / 05:17 pm (CNA/EWTN News).- Amid continuing legal pressure against Catholic institutions in Canada, the Calgary Catholic School District faces a lawsuit from a former principal who has said she was pushed out due to discrimination on religious, marital, and anti-LGBT grounds.

School officials said they are committed to providing “welcoming, caring, respectful and safe learning environments for all,” but did not comment on the complaints due to privacy concerns.

“Our school, and student groups within our school, address a number of diversity and justice issues – including issues associated with sexual orientation and gender identity,” Tania Van Brunt, a school district spokesperson, told the Canadian news station CTV Calgary.

“We do so in a comprehensive manner that involves the entire school community,” she continued. “We have many student groups that support safe and caring environments through their activities and demonstrate an understanding and respect for the sanctity of human life and respect for the human person which includes, but not limited to, ethnic and racial backgrounds, abilities or disabilities, sexual orientation, gender identity, etc.”

Like the public schools, the Calgary Catholic School District is funded by the Alberta government. It follows Alberta requirements, with bishops responsible for monitoring the schools’ Catholic identity. While the public schools were traditionally Protestant, they have secularized in recent generations.

Barb Hamilton, a longtime teacher and vice-principal in the school district, served as principal from 2015-2017 at St. Joseph Elementary Junior High School.

She has filed two human rights complaints charging that the school district refused her employment on the grounds of marital status, religious beliefs, and sexual orientation.

“Their perspective is I resigned and my perspective is I wasn’t given a choice,” Hamilton said. She has charged that staff in Catholic schools suffer from a sense of fear and there is an unspoken “don’t ask, don’t tell” approach.

The school district’s employment contract of 2017, titled “A Catholic Leader’s Covenant,” includes objectives such as to know, serve and love God.

“Our evaluations, our leadership quality standards, is an element of Catholicism and faith, and that’s who we are,” Van Brunt told CTV. “In all of our contracts are professional growth plans.”

The expectations include weekly Sunday Mass attendance and “following and modelling to others, both in and out of school, a lifestyle and deportment in harmony with the practices and beliefs of the Catholic Church.”

After Hamilton left St. Joseph she returned to teaching but is now on leave from her position.

While she was principal, she filed an affidavit saying she was aware of 10 students in grades 8 and 9 at the school believed to self-identify as LGBTQ and had intentionally hurt themselves. Hamilton said this self-harm was believed to be a response to anti-LGBTQ insults or to family members who had said “they would go to hell if they were gay.”

She has said she didn’t see any changes from the school board after she sought help. She wanted to go public to help others facing similar situations, saying, “I don’t think silence contributes constructive solutions to the problem.”

Her allegations are part of an ongoing legal case concerning LGBT advocacy Gay-Straight Alliance student clubs in Alberta schools.

Macewan University professor Kris Wells said the Catholic schools’ contract is “so vague, almost as vague as to be meaningless without specific examples.”

“It’s a form of discrimination if you’re not applying this covenant equitably to everyone who violates it,” she said.

David Eggen, Minister of Education for Alberta, has not read the contract but said knows that such contracts do exist in the province, CTV reports. Faith-based schools are governed by the government’s mandatory curriculum and the School Act. If schools are compliant with that they are doing their job, he said.

However, in January 2016 Eggen announced new mandatory policies for all schools in the province requiring them to recognize a student’s right to self-identify their gender and gender expression. Schools must establishment Gay-Straight Alliances at any school where a student requests one, and school supervisory employees were advised to “anticipate, support and value staff diversity, including diverse sexual orientations, gender identities and gender expressions.”

The policy barring schools from informing parents if their child joins such a club presently faces a court challenge.

Bishop Frederick Henry of Calgary, who retired in 2017, gave a critical reaction to the policies at the time of their release. He said they violated legal precedents such as a 2015 Supreme Court ruling that protected the rights of a Catholic school in Quebec to teach from a Catholic viewpoint.

The court ruling said that “to tell a Catholic school how to explain its faith undermines the liberty of the members of its community who have chosen to give effect to the collective dimension of their religious beliefs by participating in a denominational school.”

“(I)t amounts to requiring a Catholic institution to speak about Catholicism in terms defined by the state rather than by its own understanding of Catholicism,” the court continued in a decision that protected parents’ rights to transmit the Catholic faith to their children and to guide their religious upbringing.

Catholic or other Christian institutions have faced increasing legal and political pressures in Canada.

At Trinity Western University in British Columbia, foes of a conduct code took it to Canada’s Supreme Court, arguing its demand that students promise to abstain from sex or face expulsion. The court ruled that the conduct code was degrading. It is now optional to sign.

In June 2018 the Supreme Court ruled that law societies in the country could deny licensing to a proposed Christian law school at Trinity Western University because the school adheres to Biblical teaching on sexuality.

Requirements added to Canada’s summer jobs program earlier this year required participating organizations to support the government’s pro-abortion rights view and other views on controversial matters in order to receive public funding. While those requirements appeared to be dropped in new rules issued Dec. 7, these still drew criticism from various Christian and pro-life groups who worried they were too vague and could still create problems and exclude groups that previous rules did not.

Last year, a Saskatchewan judge ruled that Catholic schools in that province will not receive taxpayer funding for non-Catholic students, claiming that to do so would violate the Charter of Rights and Freedoms, the state’s duty of religious neutrality and equality rights. In June that decision was put on hold pending appeal.

CNA Daily News – Americas

#amid #Canada #Catholic #code #conduct #district #explains #lawsuit #school #Catholic News

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xbostonsfinestx-blog · 7 years

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Jade

”Jade? Agent Kerrigan?” The voice of the doctor sitting across from her drew her from her thoughts, leaving her to glance around the room to place herself once more. She had been in session for nearly fifty minutes, but his last question would send her into the depths of her mind. “Can you tell me about your childhood?” The man repeated, noting the manner in which Jade’s fists clenched tightly at the mere mention of the word. Right on cue, there was a beep from the phone on his desk, signifying the end of their session. “Well, I think we did good here today and we’ll pick up with that question tomorrow. Jade rose to her feet, still slightly disoriented from the flashes in her mind, drawing in a deep breath as the doctor offered his hand for a firm handshake. “Tomorrow, at 11.” His reminder was met with a slow nod of the agent’s head as she turned for the door.

Jade stepped out of the room to find her long term boyfriend, Orion King, sitting in a chair just beyond the door. He had known her since the age of seven and knew her better than most, immediately spotting that look on her face. The topic she didn’t want breeched had been touched upon. He knew not to reach for her, but to allow her to do this if she should so desire. The fact was, her childhood had been hell. At only two years old, she and her twin brother, Cael Kerrigan, were placed with Allison and Finn Kerrigan by their father upon the death of their mother. The twins’ names were changed from Giada and Vinicio to Jade and Cael. Their deaths were faked. No trace would link the Savastano children to the Kerrigan children. They were to be safe there, to grow up in a normal family, living out the dream that their father could no longer provide to them.

Jade took the separation especially hard while Cael adapted to his environment more easily. Jade decided if she could control nothing else, then she would refuse to speak unless it were to her /real/ father. At first, the Kerrigan’s would give in to the tiny girl, wanting her to realize they were not the enemies there. But eventually, the calls were not permitted. Jade would go long periods of time not speaking. Cael did not understand why she was doing this, but in Jade’s mind, it made perfect sense. She’d refuse until her father was sent for and then she would have her daddy back. Only her plan did not work out the way she had hoped. Instead of bending to the strong willed child, Finn Kerrigan decided to take matters into his own hands. If she wouldn’t speak, he’d force sound from her in one way or another. The first assault took place when Jade was four years old and would continue until her seventh year when one Allison Kerrigan would return home to find the man with Jade.

The coming months, Allison worked together with Jade and Cael’s biological father to put the charges to rest, as well as seal the child’s records. Finn Kerrigan died that night at the hand of his wife for that which she had found upon her return. Discovery would unveil that Jade had suffered for three years there beneath Finn Kerrigan, in order to protect her brother from the same. This damage was irreversible. Into her adult years, the aftermath was there. Jade was not comfortable with the touch of any person she did not know well. She would shrink back when an unwelcomed hand would reach for her shoulder. In time, she learned some of this was beyond her control. She’d have to shake hands. She’d have to accept that someone would brush against her arm on the street. Though she wouldn’t react, it would always shoot tremors through her tiny frame, flashing back to the years infected by Finn Kerrigan.

The question of her childhood sparked it all within her easily, as it never took too much to throw her mind into that place again. Lord knew Orion had been up against quite the feat there with the woman as she battled her demons for twenty years. But now, she had a whole new band of demons that would exist within her. Things she had seen, done, and taken part in while in her latest under cover case. Six months is how long she would go under deep cover, infiltrating the Martinelli Crime Organization in New York. Leaving her home in Boston, her family, her friends, her boyfriend, she’d take on a new persona. Her cover’s name was Juliana Castellano, nicknamed ‘Jaycie’. For six months, she lived a completely different life to take down the man who ordered the murder of one Velia Savastano. When the job was complete, a taped confession in the agent’s possession, she made contact with her handler, informing them the mission was completed. The next morning, Jaycie and forty-two other members of the organization were arrested in three locations owned by the Martinelli Family. Jaycie then committed suicide, as far as anyone else would know, as Jade returned to Boston to her life, finally able to move forward from the death of her mother, if it would be so easy.

Upon her return, she was given two pieces of information. 1. She was to sustain a series of psychological evaluations that would be taken into strong consideration to be sure she was prepared to return to the field after being under for as long as she had. 2. Things change. People change. Stick to the cover story that she was at Quantico running a special training there for the past six months and realize the reality she was stepping back into wouldn’t be easy. To ease in. Not to do too much too soon. Take it easy and enjoy some paid time off with just a few appointments along the way. It sounded easy enough, but was misleading all at the same time. Easing back in was far easier said than done. Jade was an ‘in with both feet’ kind of person and this would be no different. The first night back, she went straight to her boyfriend’s apartment, reuniting with him. It had its bumps, but was rather seamless, giving her a false confidence leading into other reunions. With Orion, he knew where she had been. There wasn’t a lie there. Though she didn’t want to talk about all she had seen and done, as well as much of it being confidential information, his only concern was for her return and their relationship status. Her brother and her best friend would be two entirely different situations. They had been fed the lie, yet the news coverage would say something else to them. They knew she had lied, or at least she thought they did.

Baby steps. Everything had to move slowly. Ease in. She kept reminding herself, but as she stepped out of the office of the psychologist, she felt the walls closing in. That night, she was supposed to rest. Orion had allowed her to stay with him for the unforeseeable future while she took a break from her twin brother. His morning spent at the therapist’s office had him working a later shift as Sheriff’s Deputy, leaving Jade to her own devices. She promised to rest, but eventually it became frustrating to her. When she closed her eyes, she now not only saw the nightmares she had faced in her time away, but the additional nightmares of her childhood thanks to the therapist poking and prodding at her brain for sport. A walk was necessary to clear her mind, though losing her clearance temporarily had the woman unarmed. She’d forever feel naked without a piece at her side, but the tiny keyring of mace would have to suffice. As she left the apartment, she locked it behind her, venturing a few blocks from the apartment building. As she turned around to head back, she came face to face with a man she had not seen in years, and certainly never seen without her father there at his side. “Mr. Reddington?” She whispered in that raspy tone of hers, almost taken back, almost sure it couldn’t be him, yet took that step forward to see his face a little more clearly. “What are you…?” She began, asking what he was doing there, though too surprised to complete her own thought out loud. Reddington

CHAPTER ONE: A LITTLE PUSH;

  Odysseus spent a decade at war. But his biggest battle was finding his way home.

   The soft hum of an idle engine, scent of fuel wafting into confined space. Veiled in darkness, just beyond the edge of illuminated sanctity; the tall stacks of industrial growth tainted planetary defense. A pair of vehicles parked parallel, reminiscent of olden film: how shallow and otherwise predictable. From this vantage, occupants of both vehicles exited; a team of four from a government-style SUV, black with tinted windows. A simple pair of men from the high-end sedan, also tinted. Rounding the front of their vehicles, both sets exchanged greeting before lights disengaged, cloaking them within darkness' gentle embrace.  

As much as it pained to embrace reality, the world was nothing more than a great big board, a game in which leaders carelessly expended pawns, promoted their rooks, and secured their knights. The kings and queens would remain otherwise isolated, free to issue commands from the sanctity of exile. But the players? Always two. Two who transcended purpose and would dictate it to others; two who could put aside affiliation and see the greater picture. Driven but never ambitious, calculating but never vindictive. Surrounded but never overwhelmed.

  ''Stop me if you've heard this one: a French guy walks into a bar . . .'' The voice, perfectly measured in decibel distribution, inflection marking gifted oration. ''Tells the bartender, 'Le mot impossible n'est pas français' before executing him. A terrible waste of human life, don't you think? Well, the French guy goes on to end a revolution, supplanting the French Directory with something more beneficial to his cause. Ringing any bells?'' There was a particular air of confidence, voice lingering amid the dull hum. A smirk stretched over countenance, one that humbled any notion Faust had of the deceptive Mephistopheles. The opposing gathering looked toward each other, confusion marking their disposition. ''Thought not. At the age of twenty two, a young Frenchman would change the world; Napoléon Bonaparte spread French influence throughout continental Europe and beyond. He did this through a mix of deception, manipulation, and unparalleled battlefield tactics. You see, Napoléon preferred to let his enemies make assumptions, their own false conclusions before capitalizing on these errors.''

  Spawned from darkness, weapons trained on the team — eight barrels belonging to assault rifles emerged from behind the orator, sheer surprise handicapping retaliatory response. To the orator's side, the original secondary component of the duo furnished the Glock 19 handgun, training it on the group's leader.

  ''You see Matteo, I am Napoléon and you are the decrepit French Directorate; in order to flourish I need to cut the cancer before it spreads.''  

"I think you've grown c*cky, Mister Eros. You see, La Cosa Nostra doesn't just disappear, it doesn't get bulled, and it certainly won't leave New York just because you want it to. We're international and the moment I make a call, you're dead. Get it?" The leader took a confident step forward, chest puffed out.  

''Of course the Spanish ruler, Ferdinand the Eighth, attempted to resist French influence only to find himself . . . cast aside.''  

CHAPTER TWO: REUNION;

"It's done.'' 

There was no response, a simple press of a button to end the phone call. Looking at the burner device, he'd pass it along to the awaiting African male, who placed it in his pocket. His eyes averted to the passing landscape, watching as the natural beauty passed him. Of course, the late hour endowed very little in the way of extensive sights, but it was enough. "Twenty minutes, Raymond. Are you sure you want to do this?"

  ''Absolutely, Dembe. From time to time the tree needs to be refreshed with a little flood of truth.'' The Concierge of Crime consulted his watch, a habit earned from his time as a United States Naval Intelligence Officer; meticulous scheduling, each bit of his time accounted for, down to the last second. ''It's been far too long.''

  Nostalgia would eliminate the impatience of being stuck within the vehicle, lost within dulcet memories. Of a father and twins. He had been a 'friend', if such a thing existed, before the Christmas incident of nineteen ninety ( 1990 ). When his wife had been killed, he was there to provide assistance. Indeed, throughout the twins' lives, the enigmatic man had always been there, a provider of sorts. Despite personal loss, he didn't allow it to taint his vision.

  As the vehicle made its approach, the Concierge caught sight of the familiar face walking along the street. Stepping out, his shadow would follow, eyes constantly surveying the area. Dembe Zuma possessed many hats, but perhaps the one he wore most was protector. He had also been graced by Red's benevolent hand.

  ''The years have been kind to you, Giada, but as I remind you: no need to call me 'Mister'. Our history is far too intimate for that.'' He'd remove fedora, bowing his head: a sign of respect as well as greeting. ''We need to talk, get in the car.'' Gesturing toward the open car door, ''It's about Velia.'' The death of the Martinelli family's patriarch hit the underworld with ferocity that matched any domestic terror assault, tainting the net of information for weeks. No one saw it coming, no one knew who perpetrated it; this sort of chaos only serves to enhance feuds. The death of the Crime Boss set into motion a war unlike any other. 

The vehicle pulled away, once more entering the safety of the road: constant mobility. ''Congratulations on your hit; no one knows what happened. Well, no one important.'' There was the faintest twitch of a wink. ''The Martinelli were among New York's most elusive criminal family, responsible for the state's major weapons imports, muling various drugs: dirty business. I'm glad to see them gone but it's only a matter of time before they link this hit to you. We have some work to do.''

Jade

Giada. The very name drew a breath at her lips as she would never find herself fit for such a name, though she knew it was her name by birth. There were only four in the world that would know this piece of information, yet only one would ever refer to her in such a manner. Raymond Reddington. Even her own father had called her by the name Jade to keep up appearances as such. Giada and Vinicio Savastano died at two years old. Yet there was something about hearing the name from Red’s lips that would leave her in awe of a name and life that was taken from her. The next name to fall from the man was that of her mother. The death of her mother, in her own opinion, was the single event that spurred all others into existence. Without the death of Velia Savastano, she would have been raised in New York instead of Boston. She would have been in a family where there may be violence beyond its walls, but not within. She would have been protected by the man in the father role, not sexually abused by him.

There would be no hesitation from the woman to join Reddington in the car. He was familiar to her. She knew him. Her father new him. Her brother knew him. Though she couldn’t place the last time she had seen the man, she did know her safety was not in doubt when with him. Immediately upon her entry to the vehicle, he was speaking of her position, knowing her to be responsible. She drew her lips tightly together, knowing she was to stick to her cover story. No one was to know that she was even in New York, outside of her FBI counterparts. But Red knew. Her father knew. Her boyfriend knew. And that was three more than she was permitted.

News had been flooded for days with information on the forty-three arrests within the Martinelli Crime Organization. So far, there were three that found a way to kill themselves, though one of those did not make sense. Jaycie’s suicide was planned to get Jade out of her cover and back to Boston. Another suicide was actually real, the only that was actually real. And then there was that of Martinelli himself. Though it was painted to look like a suicide, there was much speculation that he had been taken out, yet how it had happened within custody was another question circling the dark world. This should have been a hiccup for them. Something their highly paid lawyers could get them out of. Yet for Jade, it was retribution for that which had been done to her, to her mother.

As Red congratulated her on the hit, her head jerked to the side. Hazel eyes imploring his as if to say he couldn’t know that for sure. Even those within the bureau did not know that it was her hand that would fire the gun to take out Martinelli within the unit. “The way I heard it, he killed himself.” She reminded him, a slightly too comfortable look there on her face with the edges of her lips upturning ever so slightly. Jade wasn’t a killer. But Jaycie was. Red was seeing Jaycie in this moment, proud of that which she had done. This form of herself was not permitted. She was fighting tooth and nail to keep it at bay constantly, but for some reason, she’d slipped into that mindset rather easily when called out on Martinelli’s murder. “No one’s coming for me. They think I’m dead.” A quick reminder from her lips, from the lips of Jaycie. The words came out so easily, they left Jade in near shock over the matter. She knew she felt safe with Reddington, but this was too much and she knew it. She had to turn off that woman in her head. The woman she was trained to be. She had to be herself, which meant no ties to Martinelli. She was Jade Kerrigan. FBI Agent. She had been at Quantico for the last six months, running a training series.

-December 29, 2015

#weshouldjustkisslikerealpeopledo #gueststarring #2015 #boston #wewrite

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