Hope

Oh, what a world I'm leaving you, Damien.

He sits on my lap as I read him his bedtime story. He snorts and snuffs with the rhinoceros, ruffs with the little dogs, and quacks with the duck. To him, the world is so simple. Cows moo, sheep baa. The only confusion is whether pigs say oink or "la, la, la". He doesn't read the news headlines. How could he possibly understand how much the world is opposed to him? Why would I even want him to know?

We finish the book, and I turn out the light. I get out the rosary blessed by Blessed John Paul the Great (he will get upset if I don't), he makes the sign of the cross with it (always sure to kiss the crucifix), and we pray. I pray the sorrowful mysteries tonight. It seems it's always the night for the sorrowful mysteries. They fit my mood of late, as I really don't see much to take joy in.

One wonders where our country turned so very wrong. Why did we decide to abandon our foundational principles in favor of sexual licentiousness? I remember when I was a kid, hearing boomers apologize for how they had messed up the world, and telling me that the burden would be on my generation to fix it.

It looks like I'll have to pass that burden on to you.

We're about half way through the second mystery, when in the faint blue glow of the nightlight, I see an impish smile cross his face. He leans in close and rubs his forehead on my chin, giving himself a beard rub. I indulge him and he bursts into giggles. This isn't helping calm him down, or settle him for bed, but I can't help it. His laughter is so infectious.

After a few more surprise beard rubs and laughing fits, I manage to calm him down and continue with our prayers. I suppose I wouldn't be so uneasy if the haters would just leave me and mine alone. Just let me raise my sons in peace. But this whole kerfuffle over Women's Health™ is really just the beginning, and really not even a beginning, but a next step. Government will keep on pushing, keep on taking rights and limiting liberties, so long as they can get away with it. And it's not really even over Women's Health™ to begin with. This is about pushing the Church out of public life.

It's not the first time the Catholic schools in this country have come under attack. Only, back then, it was the WASPs who were concerned that all those lowlife Irish immigrants were indoctrinating their children in un-American thinking. Now, it's those backwards, homophobic, misogynistic Catholics who are against Progress™. The Catholic schools, ever a tool of the Church, must be walled off, their influence minimized.

To paraphrase a good king in a moment of hopelessness, what can one man do against such reckless hatred? How are we few to raise our children to know, love, and serve God, when the forces of the god-king and the weight of the world oppose us so?

All I want is for you to know Love.

We finish our Rosary, and I throw a Memorare—my in-case-of-emergency-break-glass prayer—on the end. I put the rosary away, and look back down. His eyes are half open, and his blinks are getting longer, his head becoming heavier and heavier against my chest.

But they can never get us here. This is Our Place. This is Ecclesia Domestica. Some boundaries transcend the power of temporal rulers. Some bonds cannot be broken by earthly force. "Christ is the head of this house. The unseen guest at every meal. The silent listener to every conversation." No HHS mandate can change that.

Damien's breathing slows, and soon he's full-on snoring. Now that he's asleep, I could put him in his crib, and go back out to whatever faces me beyond these four walls. But I don't. I just rest my chin on his head, and hold him close. And I realize it doesn't matter what happens. Even if the worst case of extreme conspiracy nuts came true, and a Soviet-style dictatorship descended on this country, nothing could take this moment from us.

Nothing can make me stop loving you.

(1000th post!)