#Church of Our Lady’s Nativity

[streetsofdublin]

SCOUTS DEN IN LEIXLIP

The present Church of Our Lady’s Nativity dates back to 1833 and replaced the previous church which was built around 1750.

THIS WAS A CHURCH THAT WAS BUILT IN 1750 The present Church of Our Lady’s Nativity dates back to 1833 and replaced the previous church which was built around 1750. This 1750 church was built on the banks of the Rye and is now the scouts’ den for the Leixlip Scout Unit. The River Rye or Ryewater is a tributary of the River Liffey. It rises in County Meath, flowing south-east for 19 miles.…

[jontycrane]

Riga

Latvia’s capital, and the largest city in the Baltics, Riga isn’t as immediately appealing as Estonia’s Tallinn but is home to some great museums, lots of grand buildings, and even more churches. The House of the Black Heads is a good place to start, as the home of the guild that helped bring Riga to prominence as part of the Hanseatic League. It has a beautiful facade, representing different…

[yanderedrabbles]

Letters from a Yandere Vampire

December 7th, 1886

Dear y/n,

Please do not think me presumptuous for writing to you so soon, but my heart would give me no rest. I have been unable to stop thinking of you since our encounter at the Duke's soiree.

Perhaps it is my countenance or perhaps my foreign heritage, but London's débutantes seem to find me positively frightful. I had resigned myself to yet another evening of disappointment when you introduced yourself to me.

In all my travels, I have met few ladies with your boldness of spirit. You transformed my dour evening into one of unimaginable enjoyment.

I have included with my letter some pressed flowers from my native Transylvania. You expressed much interest in the botany of my homeland and I hope these will intrigue you.

Your interest in my travels is remarkably flattering. And, if I may be so bold, may I invite you to a dinner at my salon? I have much still to share.

Yours sincerely,

Count Nicolae Drăculești

December 17th, 1886

My dearest y/n,

How I enjoyed our evening together! When we danced, I felt my soul set afire. In my travels, none have so captivated me.

Do not think me hasty, but I have sent my messenger with a gift. I can think of no better place for these jewels than around your neck. Please, accept them with my most sincere compliments.

You amused me very much when you pointed out my teeth. My fangs are indeed much longer and sharper than a normal man's. Perhaps you wish to feel their sharpness against your skin?

The nights grow longer and colder. Do you dislike the winter darkness, I wonder. Or do you only long for someone to share it with, as I do?

Ah, forgive my rambling! I'm writing to ask if you will allow me the privilege of escorting you to the Yuletide ball? I can think of no finer gift to celebrate Christmas.

I must soon depart for my home and I insist on spending more time together before then.

Yours,

Nicolae Drăculești

December 25th, 1886

My love,

Merry Christmas! I walked through the untouched snow and even London seemed beautiful and pure.

In this cold, I can think of nothing but having you with me. A day without you is an eternity past.

It seems I have been waiting for you for centuries. Is it to bold to say you are the woman of my dreams? Forgive this fool his insolence, but when I write to you I feel possessed.

You have asked me at length about my aversion to the Church and silver. You are such a logical creature but there are some things beyond the realm of science.

Seek to know no more, for both our sakes.

Another matter has been bothering me of late. I have noticed Lord Lancaster has expressed an interest in you.

The man fawns over you like a slobering hound. As your companion, it is my duty to advise against him. He is unworthy of your attention, much less your sympathy. 

Surely you see that it is you and I that are the more compatible match?

Ever yours,

Nicușor

January 1st, 1887

Dear,

I wished to keep you ignorant of my nature. And yet, you have seen me unmasked. A creature of the night.

It was your blood that did it. A single drop was all it took for my instinct to take over.

I hope you are unhurt. If I were in my right mind, I never would have pinned you against the wall as I did. I never would have forced my kiss upon you.

I could hear your heart racing when I showed you my fangs. Why did you not scream?

Did I fighten you into silence? Or was it something else?

You asked me what you are to me and at the time I had no answer to give. Are you my prey? My meal?

I have spent all night in thought and still I fear uttering these words.

You are my beloved.

My heart belongs entirely to you, wretched and sinful though it may be. No blood is sweeter than yours.

I burn for you, my darling.

I grow agitated at each day that passes when we are not together. My treacherous mind plays such awful tricks on me. Surely you have not cast me aside for another? Or worse, have I frightened you beyond redemption?

Oh, banish the thought! Who has your affection? Your love?

Please, put my poor heart at ease. Meet me in the gazebo at the end of your garden after sunset.

I cannot bear to be parted from you much longer.

Ever your slave,

Nicușor

y/n,

My castle must be prepared for your arrival and I have set forth with great haste to do so. In case you awake before my return, I've left you this letter.

You are currently on board a private train car bound for Transylvania. Do not attempt to leave. My guards have strict orders to ensure you reach home.

You are changed, my dear.

I have bitten you and transformed you into a creature like myself. Upon our final meeting, I intended only to say goodbye. You are too fine and beautiful a creature to be wasted on the likes of me.

But when I saw you in the moonlight, I could not help myself.

You are so beautiful. So bright and lively. You are what my cold halls have lacked all these many years.

My love, I drank your blood. Every drop of it. Nothing in my centuries of existence has ever tasted so sweet, so right.

It can be frightening, I know. But do not despair.

The light of the sun will forever be out of reach, but there are a thousand traits you've gained. Strength. Speed. Immortality.

The grave will never taste your flesh, old age will never hound at your door.

As I am the one who changed you, I am also your Lord and Master. The bond between us is forged in blood. Wherever I go, you must always follow. If I am to die, so shall you. If I am to command, you must obey.

It is a tight leash and not one of my devising, I assure you.

I intend to be your partner and not your Lord. So for both our sakes, my love, do not give me cause to use that power.

You and I have all eternity together. Does it please you as it does me?

I have longed for a bride for centuries. You cannot imagine the loneliness. And in all those years, none have impressed themselves upon my heart as you have.

I have stolen you from the sunshine and into my world of night and blood. I have ripped away any hope of heaven and salvation. No God now, no church or altar.

I am a rogue and a thief and still I beg of you. Please love, do not hate me.

I've made you into my vampire bride.

Your husband,

Nicușor Drăculești

[portraitsofsaints]

Happy Feast Day

Saint Juan Diego

1474-1548

Feast day: December 9

Patronage: America and Natives

Saint Juan Diego was an indigenous Mexican who embraced the Catholic faith that came with Cortez, spread by the Spanish friars. On December 9th, 1531, Our Lady appeared to him on Tepeyac Hill (Guadalupe), as he was going to Mass, asking for a church to be built on that spot. After convincing the skeptical Bishop of the apparition's authenticity, through Mary’s miraculous image on his tilma (cloak) and Castillian roses spilling out when he opened the tilma, the Bishop built the church. Thousands of conversions occurred, when the tilma, with our Lady’s image on it, was processed through Mexico City. St. Juan Diego spent the rest of his life as the tilma's caretaker and telling the apparition's story. The tilma can be seen today in the basilica in Mexico City.

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase. (website)

[misspjsuperior]

Tonantzin Guadalupe 🌵🌹

The original \/u| \//\ goddess I created in 2013 is Maria Rosa. Her design was inspired in major part between the miracle of La Virgen de Guadalupe and the concept of Mary Queen of Heaven.

I was recently commissioned to create a new (\/) Goddess inspired similarly between Guadalupe and Tonantzin by my chingona hermana Janet Bella Rosa who also knew Mi padrino Antonio 🙏 I felt his spirit guiding me to connect our visions! 💞

Tonantzin is an enduring Nahuatl title for the maternal aspect of any Aztec goddess, much like “Our Lady”, rather than the name of a particular goddess. I chose a blue background to parallel Her starry mantle of heaven and also represent Lake Texcoco since the eagle, snake, and cactus from its story of the founding of ancient Mexico there are present. 💙🌵 

Tonantzin in various forms is frequently depicted with eagle feet so I thought it appropriate to have the legendary golden eagle clutch the silvery moon below Her in place of Guadalupe’s cherub 🦅 🌙 Tonantzin is often known, by many names, to wear a skirt of snakes- the celestial Aztec earth mother Coatlicue’s particular name translates to “She of Snake Skirts”. So I couldn’t help but see the snake emerge from the opening in Her folds here. Frequently in Aztec art snakes emerging from or replacing body parts represents blood so I feel a menstrual element from how the snake manifested in this vision 🐍 🩸

Many believe that the apparition of La Virgen de Guadalupe on Tepeyac Hill unto St. Juan Diego, an Indigenous peasant originally named Cuauhtlatoatzin meaning “Talking Eagle”, was a vision of a new form of Tonantzin. Her local temple had formerly been on that very site, destroyed by conquistadors. When Cuauhtlatoatzin received these holy visions, the Goddess spoke to him not in Spanish but in his native Nahuatl language even though She identified Herself as The Virgin Mother of God. Even the Church documents testify that The Holy Mother assured him in his moment of doubt, in his Indigenous tongue, “Am I not here who am your Mother?” Indeed Tonantzin Coatlicue herself is said to have had her own divine conception via a feather 🪶 

The miraculous vision of Guadalupe that appeared upon Juan Diego/Talking Eagle’s tilma is often seen as a self portrait by Her and there are many analyses of the visual element’s encoding of Aztec symbolism. I took these theories and insights into consideration while creating this vision.

Even within the suppression of Spanish colonization ancient indigenous Mexican Curanderismo healing practices were able to persevere and often in the name of La Virgen de Guadalupe, under the protection of Her image.

Choose-your-goddess prints now include Tonantzin Guadalupe!

🌟🌟🌟🌟🌟

“At home, on the evening of December 12th we may light a candle and place offerings of flowers, copal and chocolate in front of her statue or painting. In the public square, those who follow the Mexica spiritual tradition will join brothers and sisters for an all-night vigil of prayer, Danza, offerings, and songs to her, who is Tonantzin Tlalli Coatlicue, who was always honored at the hill of Tepeyac. As we salute the Four Winds and dance in the ceremonial circle, we honor those who have gone before us, the courageous people who kept traditions alive through the centuries despite the threat to their life if discovered. The feathers in the copilli, the ceremonial headdress worn by the dancers, will draw down the energy of the cosmos into Mother Earth, our beautiful Tonantzin Tlalli Coatlicue to help her heal from the many ways she is dishonored.

Nearby, children will play and laugh, faces smeared with the traces of candy and the cinnamon of churros, the delicious deep fried pastry covered with sugar and cinnamon while the sound of mariachi music adds to the feeling of a fusion of cultures and beliefs. If you wander the crowded street you will see a handful of Catholic pilgrims on their knees on the hard pavement slowly make their way to the entrance of the church in gratitude for answered prayers.

And, in spite of quiet official church disapproval, the local parish priest will invite Indigenous ceremonial dancers to participate during the special December 11-12 mass for Our Lady of Guadalupe. Inside the church, for a few moments, Mayan copal will blend with European frankincense, quetzal feathers will dance on the air, and elders with bundles of aromatic rosemary plants will cleanse the People’s spirit. The two cultures, reconciled at this moment, acknowledge their bond of love for the Woman Who is Cloaked with the Sun; a bridge of Light between peoples.”

- Maestra Grace via Curanderismo.org

[absoluteocellibehavior]

Oscar and Our Lady of Guadalupe

I've talked a bit about Oscar and his connection to Mary on here, but I figured it would serve best to actually put it together coherently.

Firstly, I must address the fact that, like many of the other people in the Malevolent fandom, see Oscar as Hispanic. Now, you may be saying "Ocelli! How in the world could Oscar be Hispanic? He is very clearly Scottish. Listen to him." yada yada and I hear ya. I hear ya. However, I cannot get the image of it out of my mind and this was before there was a lot of fanart of him out there. However, I do have some mild evidence of this. The Hispanic population in New York is very little in the 1900 area which is about the time we are estimating that Oscar was born. However, it's not zero. Additionally, there is a large percentage of Hispanic people that are Catholic, making Oscar's parents much more likely to have given him to a Catholic orphanage. With such a low population of Hispanics in New York coupled with the spike in racist nationalism occurring at the time due to European immigration, it is very likely that Oscar's family didn't have the means to raise a child. Based on the fact that Oscar never knew his parents, it's most probable that he was dropped off as a baby in which he was still learning how to speak. Therefore, he has a Scottish accent because he learned how to speak from his Scottish caretakers. This also gives reason for Oscar ostracization in the orphanage. Unfortunately...racism. It's assumed that Oscar never got adopted due to his violent act against Father McKenna, but this probably only agitated the motivations of not adopting him due to his race as well. Oscar's role in the church is somewhat in the background. It's assumed that he would run certain masses but based on the amount of availably he had in Season Four, it's probably just to fill in for daily mass. Rather, he focuses on serving the community. He would have been increasingly difficult for him to have been an authority figure in the church, but he fought tooth and nail for it in order to be able to balance out the evil in the magisterium like Father McKenna. This doesn't mean that they'd allow him to do everything he should be able to, hence him being put in the "messy" jobs so to speak. Oscar loves what he does, and he won't ever complain about it nonetheless.

With that explanation out of the way, I'm going to double back to the fact that Oscar NEVER was adopted. He never had a healthy father or mother figure in his life. So, I find it likely that Oscar would lean into Mary and Joseph as his spiritual parents. Think about it. I love the idea that he wears a rosary constantly. Someone once explained to me that holding the rosary was the equivalent of holding Mary's hand. So, Oscar wears a rosary as a symbol of his mom's protection and her watching over him.

Something that only enhances this, is Oscar discovering the appearance of Our Lady of Guadalupe. As Catholics, we believe that there have been multiple appearances of Mary all over the world. One of which (my personal favorite) is Our Lady of Guadalupe. As the story goes, Mary appeared to St. Juan Diego, an Aztec convert to Christianity in the 1500s, four separate times as a woman of mixed Indigenous and European features. She asked for a shrine to be built on the place which she appeared at (Tepeyac Hill) which the bishop of the region hesitated to do. On the fourth appearance, Mary instructed for Juan Diego to gather roses from that hill and bring them to the bishop. These roses were miraculous for two reasons: they were blooming in the middle of winter, and they were native to the bishop's homeland of Castile. When Juan Diego opened his cloak full of roses, an imprint of Mary was revealed to be on the inside of the cloak that we know as the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Our Lady of Guadalupe plays a large role in not only Mexico's religion but in its overall history. All that is to say, I think Oscar would find great comfort in not only Mary, but specifically Our Lady of Guadalupe. In the face of persecution, he was able to look up to Our Lady of Guadalupe and St. Juan Diego for guidance and spiritual support (yes, yes, he wasn't canonized until Pope John Paul II but this happened centuries earlier and he would have heard about it. Sue me). Additionally, I’d like to think Oscar picks his birthday to be December 12th, Our Lady of Guadalupe’s Feast Day, in order to share it with his “mom”.

Well! There you go! This is a very important Oscar headcannon to me and I thought you all might appreciate it!

[starlightoath]

*sips tea* Do y'all see and hear that? No one's storming the capital. No one's inciting an insurrection in the midst of a tantrum. No one's claiming they didn't lose in spite of the official vote counting. Unlike MAGA, who did all of those things!

Just a graceful loss! Because unlike the child that won by 1.5%(it wasn't a landslide), Kamala had the dignity and maturity to concede and accept her defeat with dignity. *takes another sip* Crazy how it was the shortest campaign in history and 48.4% of American voters voted for her. Imagine what she would have done with a whole year.

Ah Ah! I was only 49.9%. Not 50%. We're definitely not rounding. Even then, a lot of citizens abstained. *pours another cup of tea* So, let's see. Unqualified cabinet members based on how popular they are. Restrictions on bodily autonomy of women now, intentions of placing restrictions on all people. Transphobia that's dealing direct damage to reproductive healthcare and mental healthcare. Denial of Healthcare to people who need it in direct violation of "Do no harm" under penalty of arrest. Not to mention dismantling of government paid insurance with only "concepts of a plan" to replace it(which is just another way of saying it won't be replaced). Intentions to delegalize same sex marriage. The person who put America even further into debt, who we know is in bed with Putin and China, is back into office. The same man that was convicted and found guilty of 34 felonies including multiple cases of Sexual assault. The very same man who's throwing a tantrum because one of our greatest presidents died and flags will still be at half mast during hus inauguration. Racism, sexism, and bigotry "backed" by the government. Oh! And those terrorists, sorry, that's bad optics, right? "Christian Nationalists" having government positions in direct opposition to the Founding Fathers Direct intent of "Separation of Church and State." Also cultists, whoops again, "The MAGA Party," having even higher influence because they're in central government positions! Oh! The price of living will increase too! Trump also said that his promise to decrease egg prices was a lie.

But hey. At least Trump voters are happy that they can be hateful in public. At least they can feel justified in attacking marginalized groups knowing Trump is in the office! At least they know no more—Oh wait! Immigrants are cheaper labor than native citizens, so immigrants will still be coming to their country!

*sips tea*

Ladies, Gentlemen, and Others!

Guys, Gals, and Nonbinary Pals!

Presenting Act 2 of Trump's America: The Burning Shit Show in the Midst of a Dumpster Fire!

Don't worry, Folks! I'll be enjoying the show from a safe distance!

[cleoselene]

had a thoroughly lovely and sociologically fascinating Christmas Eve. look, I ain't no Christian, I'm just an American with atheistic tendencies who was raised celebrating American Christian holidays, but it was never religious, just you know. Holidays. For fun. To enjoy. That was always my concept of every holiday. Like, absolutely opposite of "Jesus is the reason for the season" because we never ever went to church, ever. My mom is vaguely Christian/loves to talk about "the angels"/also believes she was Jewish in a former life. Which is to say she's a new age flake with American Christian seasoning. And she was like, SO SHOOK when i told her I didn't believe in God or anything. I was like, Mom, if you wanted to indoctrinate me, maybe you should have... tried? lol

So my old friend who goes all the way back to middle school invited me to go to dinner with her and her husband for Christmas eve. Our familial traditions have always been that Christmas day is the important one, that's the feasting and presents. Christmas eve was never a solid tradition and actually most of growing up i went to a friend's house for Christmas eve because her parents had banger parties for it. i did that from like, ages 11-23 and my mom always did something with her friends. Christmas eve is traditionally my social holiday outside of the family.

So when she said, "let's go to Shula's, my treat," I was like WORD, because I have always wanted a 90 dollar steak but could never actually AFFORD a 90 dollar steak. but I guess I missed in the ask a couple months ago the "we'll do church first part" and yeah, lol. The last time I was in a church was my father's funeral 24 years ago. THC lozenges got me through that service and got me nice and munchied for Shula's after word (yes, the 90 dollar steak was excellent, I got it with chimichurri sauce, and had this thick cut maple bacon with tomato jam appetizer, hnngh). So it wasn't until a few days ago that I realized I would be going to church, and like, intense church, because these are super churchy people. I realize it is actually the very first time I've ever gone to church on a holiday? Like I used to totally joke about how I couldn't think of a better way to ruin a holiday, but given that I've become a sociologist since the last time I was in a church, it was a way more fascinating experience. No, I was not moved by the spirit but as a student of human ritual and human behavior and human group activities, I was pretty riveted. It was your pretty basic nativity reading/Christmas songs combination with a short sermon that had a very South Florida message, lol, because the pastor made very certain to tell us that just because Jesus was born in a manger doesn't mean he was POOR, as Joseph was a carpenter and that was a good job!! And some lady called out "AMEN!" and i was like, just riveted at the exultation of "Thank God Jesus wasn't really a Poor" roflcopter. They also had an Israeli flag hanging and I asked my friend what the connection was there, and she said there was a Biblical mandate to support the state of Israel, and I was like, but isn't the concept of the nation-state way newer than the Bible? And then she said it was something related to the 'end times' and I was like ohhhh. Okay then. Everyone was friendly, though, it wasn't overly long.

They also did a communion, which. Honestly, Christians, ritual vampirism and cannibalism is fucking fascinating. I find the whole virgin birth story horrifying and ghoulish, but the ritualistic vamprism and cannibalism is FUCKING METAL. So goth. This wasn't a Catholic place so they invited us all to join in and the goth in me couldn't resist joining in.

It was SO lovely to go out and do grown up normie things. I never go out to dinner, let alone at a place like Shula's (still undefeated like Shula -Pitbull) so it was a rare treat. We got hot chocolate afterward and went to this neighborhood in town that is super fucking intense about their Christmas lights, like it's in the HOA that you have to put up holiday lights and each street is given a theme. It's a Southwest Florida thing. People sit in their parking lots and project movies on their garages around a bonfire and kids stand through sunroofs in pajamas as they slow-cruise the neighborhood like they're drunk bachelorettes at a party, it's cute.

My friend and her husband are lovely, kind, generous people. She was my lab partner in science class and it was a great deal for me because she was willing to do all the gross dissection that made my stomach churn, lol. She asked if I wanted to split a calamari appetizer and i was like, nooooo, remember in science class when we had to dissect them???? And then we deep fried them??? And the portable smelled like fried fish for two weeks???? I haven't been able to get that horrible rotten fish smell out of my mind every time I see calamari.

And she was like, "that was when I became a fan!" rofl. Everyone who's grossed out in science class should have a lab partner like her.

I also got to meet her two cats which, spectacular. one of them jumped on my lap and headbutted my hand. Excellent experience. I am grateful for her friendship, she has been so kind and friendly and warm all our lives, really.

Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy first night of Hanukkah! It's after midnight where I am so we're on to both. I hope whatever you're doing for your holiday season is comforting and peaceful. I have been in a major depressive funk the last couple months since the election and Ernie's death happened in the span of a week, so it was nice to get out of my routine and put on jewelry and do my hair (I don't do make-up).

Just ate the rest of my steak. Sylvie got my little pieces of gristle. She still has mad separation anxiety and my roommate's said the first hour I was gone was rough, that she made both of them cry because she was crying so hard. Just wailing :( But she settled after an hour and then bonded with both of them even more, when I got home and they went to bed and I went to my room, she was like, "no, but mom, can we go back out and hang out with our friends??" She is still just a baby.

[islandtarochips]

Hello! You've been super nice with my content and I would like to thank you for being so kind 🥺

I have a question since I'm interested to ask! Can you tell me something about your culture and Samoan people? :D

Of course dearie! Everything that you've created is an ABSOLUTE stunning art! You and the others that I have followed!

And yeah! I would LOVE to! But just to let you know, I’m slowly learning as well since I was young. Because of how a slow learner I am but I will do my best to answer your question! (And it will be in a little detail for me to explain EVERYTHING about our culture.)

Starting off about the Samoan people. Us Samoan people are very strict with our culture. And they said that we're the most recognizable people showing it. Our dances, our music, visual arts. All of that! The Visual Arts are the most interesting thing that I've seen so far. Like the Tatau (tah-tah-oo).

The Tatau are like tattoos mainly on the thighs and waist. You can say that they're wearing like clothing. Which means they are practically...Ahem. You should know. And they said we started using this as an inspiration by the two Fijian women who came up to the shore and brought their materials and knowledge of tattooing. Next one that we're known for Visual Arts is Siapo (see-ah-poh). A Samoan word for "A fine cloth made from the bark of the Paper Mulberry tree."

The Siapo is very important for ceremony, especially the wedding occasion and the funeral service, just to wrap the dead body and put in the grave. (Since we have caskets now. We put the Siapo on TOP of the casket instead.) It's even for High Chiefs or village maiden wearing the Siapo around their waist. Like in this old photo!

(IF you can even SEE it) Now the next one is the Ie Lavalava (ee-eh lah-vah-lah-vah). An Ie Lavalava is a piece of fabric that Polynesians tie around their waists that gets worn like a skirt. Both men and women wear this type of garment in Samoa and is considered to be a traditional daily outfit used for school uniforms or work attire paired with a jacket and tie. Like this one:

(Students wearing their Ie Lavalava for school) Or this one:

(This is somewhere in the state as they allowed them to wear it in school campus. I forgot the name of the school and place.) Men and Women wear them like that. For anywhere they go. Back in the days, my dad use to tell me that women should wear an Ie whenever they go out in the village. If they don't, it goes to show that they are not respecting our people or the village for it. And nowadays, we hardly done that. I mean, there are still some of them wears an Ie when they go out but most of us aren't. I only wear an Ie when I go to another Pastor's house or go to Church. Anyway, here is some BEAUTIFUL design that they made an Ie Lavalava!

And LASTLY of the Visual Art, is Weaving. I'm sure you already know of what weaving is. For us, we weave baskets and Ie Tonga (ee-eh toh-ngh-ah). It's like the Ie Lavalava but it is made of native pandanus (lauie) tree. And it's BIGGER. I forgot if my dad told me if it was the BARK or the LEAVES they use to make it. Here is what the Ie Tonga look like:

Just like that! They use these for the funerals as a gift to show their respects. I've seen this MANY times. They use these for Fa'alavelave (fah-ah-lah-veh-lah-veh). Means "Families dig deep to help fund funeral, wedding, or other life-interrupting costs, to the tune of thousands of dollars." And oh yeah, the Samoan funerals also involves money. To help out to get the things for the high chiefs and other pastors and wives. ANYWAY, they said the I'e Toga originated from our neighboring country, Tonga. The I'e Toga was originally brought to Samoa by a Tongan lady named Fuka (foo-kah). Fuka's older sister, Lautiovogia (lah-oo-tee-oh-voh-nee-ah) the Queen of Samoa, was married to the King Tuiatua (too-ee-ah-too-ah). During Fuka's visit to Samoa, she gave her sister an I'e Toga as a gift. And that's how the Ie Tonga came into Samoa. That's about it for the Visual Art. And for the music and dances. The dancing is mostly about elegant and grace. The dances also tells the story about our ancestors and mostly about love. Just like any other countries uses their music in dancing to tell the story! Another thing about us Samoans. Samoan parents are VERY strict of disciplining their children. Like let's say....Mexican/Asian/Black mothers disciplining kind of way😅. But they're just doing that out of love. Nothing abusive. I promise. And also, there are TWO different Samoa island. One island is named ACTUALLY Samoa and there's AMERICAN Samoa (That's where I'm at right now!). The differences is. Samoa are like the independent one. Nothing owns them. Until New Zealand took Samoa under them. While American Samoa is under the US. If I remember correctly the reason why American Samoa is under the US. Is because of the Americans assisting us from the war that is going on. Going against Germany, I think. So I guessed that's how we became under the protection of the US.

Here are the two Samoan islands. Almost close but it's like 1h 12m on an airplane and 16h on a car ferry. I prefer the plane (If I didn't pack anything HEAVY. Lol.) So yeah, that's about it. Thank you @welldonekhushi for the ask and hopefully this will help you answer your question! I'm trying be detailed as I can.

[she-wolf09231982]

Chapter 1-Rosaria Marie Leone

Summary: Chicago native, Rosaria Leone (leh-OHN), was stationed in Aldourne, England awaiting further instructions to her next duty location. She finally received orders to Bastogne after the 326th Medical team was captured on their way to the town by German soldiers.

The church in the town was converted into an aid station to lodge wounded soldiers that came in from the front lines, but with medical supplies running low and shortage of medical personnel, the Americans were in desperate need of more medics and nurses to keep up with the workload. To her surprise, she finds a few silver linings by befriending a local nurse, Renée Lemaire, and Easy Company’s medic, Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe. 

A/N: OC Introduction/Rosaria Marie Leone (leh-OHN), EugeneRoeX!FemMedic, WW2, Character introduction, Post D-Day, She/Her Pronouns, Military Terminology, Band of Brothers References, Mentions of Weaponry, Smoking, Mentions of death, Blood, Medical Terminology, Italian and French with English translations

Story takes place during Episode 6-Bastogne

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~ 

Bastogne September 1944 

“Rosaria Marie Le-Leeee-on-” the charge nurse, Agatha Hannigan began with difficulty, as she looked over her spectacles at the orders given to her by the young woman standing before her. 

“Leone.” The young lady articulated. She was used to people mispronouncing her last name. 

The older lady’s lips pursed into a thin line, clearly displeased with being corrected by a replacement. She scribbled a few things on the orders. The charge nurse looked back at the young woman, scanning her from head to toe with every ounce of disdain behind her eyes. 

“Why are you wearing soldier’s fatigues? Where is your ward dress uniform? And your apron and head scarf?” Hannigan snapped. 

“This is all I ever worn, ma’am. I’m a field medic, so this is my initial issued uniform.” she explained. 

Hannigan sniffed at her, then wrote a few more notes on the orders. 

“Alright, Rosaria Leone-” 

“It’s just Saria-” 

 “-you and Renée report to me and I report to LT Doc Ryan.” she explained paying no mind to Saria’s statement. 

Saria sighed, “Yes, ma’am.” 

As she followed Hannigan, they approached a young nurse stirring a large metal pot hanging over a pit in the fireplace. The smell of the steam proved it wasn’t any kind of food she had been mixing but used bandages that were being laundered. 

“Renée-” Hannigan bellowed. 

The girl turned upon hearing her name. She met the charge nurse and Saria halfway as she dried her hands on her apron. 

“-this is our new nurse, Rosaria Lenonni, just in from Aldourne.” Hannigan introduced. 

Saria rolled her eyes but remained silent, not bothering to correct her again. 

Renée extended her hand, “Bonjour! (Hello!)” she greeted in French. 

“Buongiorno. (Good morning.)” Saria returned in Italian with a warm smile shaking Renée's hand. 

“You speak Italian?” Hannigan asked. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Hm, a lot of good that’ll do you here. You do know you're in Belgium, right? Renée, you got her from here.” Hannigan snipped, waving her hand as she walked away. 

“Oui. (Yes).” Renée replied turning back to Saria, “-Don’t mind her. You’ll get used to her.” she whispered with a grin. 

“I’m sure.” Saria responded. 

“Viens avec moi (Come with me), I’ll show you around.” Renée gestured to Saria to follow her. 

~~~~~~~ 

December 1944 

The months flew by and before Saria could blink, a layer of snow covered the grounds in and around Bastogne. She quickly befriended Renée and the other Congolese nurse, Anna. Together, they worked side by side tending to the wounded, and endured the aftermath of what happened outside of the Church/aid station when soldiers were brought to them. The horrors of blood and gore came in overwhelming waves, but Saria, Anna and Renée worked through the carnage as a team to do what they needed to do to save the men that were brought to them.  

More often than not, soldiers have succumbed to their injuries because medical supplies were becoming scarcer. There was very little of everything they needed, and it seemed more and more men were being brought to them daily. They were unable to evacuate the wounded or receive medical supplies due to heavy German advances. Not only did the Germans prevent escape for the injured, but they also captured the 326th Medical team and integrated them into their own medical team to tend to their wounded soldiers.  

“Lost another one today.” Renée said to Saria as she sat next to her on a pew against the wall. 

Saria shook her head, “Seems to be happening more often, doesn’t it?” she acknowledged. 

“Peut-être (Perhaps).” Renée replied as she reached into her apron pocket pulling out a half-wrapped bar of chocolate. 

She removed the paper and broke off a piece, handing it to Saria. 

“Chocolat?” she asked. 

Saria looked at the candy in Renée's hand and smiled weakly as she took it from her. 

“Merci.” Saria thanked. 

“Prego.” Renée returned in Italian, “Your French is getting better!” she added. 

Saria laughed, “You don’t have to be nice about it, Renée, I know it needs work.”  

“No, I insist! Your practicing is paying off, mon ami (my friend).” Renée encouraged. 

“Well thanks to you.” Saria pointed out. 

As they sat there enjoying the sweet treat, a handful of soldiers came in with an injured man on a stretcher, as a medic walked in after them. 

Renée and Saria rushed to the men with the injured soldier. 

“No, no. Here. Put him here.” Renee instructed. 

“Yes, ma’am.” the head soldier carrying the stretcher obliged as they lifted him onto a bed. 

“Is he bad?” Saria asked the medic. 

“No, lower-leg wound. No morphine.” he replied in a deep calm voice. 

Renée took a quick look at the right leg then nodded. 

“I’ll get more bandages.” Renée relayed to Saria. 

Before Renée could leave the medic was following her, “Nurse, have you got plasma I can--?” 

“Wait. Please.” Renée urged before disappearing into another room. 

The medic furrowed his eyebrows, discouraged by Renée's response. Saria felt a wave of guilt for him.  

She looked back at the soldier on the bed that they just brought in, “What’s your name, soldier?”  

“They call me Skinny.” he responded with labored breathing. 

“I’m Saria. We’ll get you squared away, ok?” She reassured him with a warm smile. 

He nodded with a forced grin since he was obviously in pain. She covered him with a blanket and turned to the same medic standing alone in a doorway watching Anna pack a thigh wound of another soldier while Renée assisted. 

The medic turned to Saria, “Hey, what’s going on here? Why aren't these men being evacuated?” 

Saria was a little taken back by his dismayed tone. 

“We can’t evacuate. We’re cut off, this is far as it goes.” she replied as she side stepped him to get to Renée and Anna. 

~~~~~~~ 

Renée and Saria had returned to Skinny with a bottle of liquor and a glass, pouring him a hefty amount to drink as a pain remedy. 

Skinny looked up at the two nurses then looked at the medic, “I think I’m in heaven, Doc.”  

The medic smirked briefly. 

As Renée and Saria began walking away, the medic called after them, “Nurse-” 

“This way.” Renée said, as she motioned him to follow. 

The medic walked along side Saria while they followed Renée to the rear of the church where all the supplies were being stored at an extravagant altar. 

“I need Morphine. I need bandages. Whatever you got. We’re down to nothin’.” the medic explained. 

“Ok, I can give you a little, but not a lot.” Renée replied gravely. 

Saria picked up a small wooden crate filled with IV bottles, syringes, and a few syrette cases. 

“You can have this today. Do you want that?” Saria asked him. 

“Oui. You got plasma?” he questioned urgently. 

“A little. Are you a surgeon?” Renée queried. 

“No. We don’t got no surgeon.” he replied with a bit of sting behind his voice. 

Saria placed a handful of torn cloth into his crate, “What’s this?” he asked, holding up the bulk of cloth. 

“From the beds.” Saria replied. 

“What, sheets?” he clarified. 

“Yes, for bandages.” 

A look of shock appeared on the medic’s face as he stared at her. 

“It does the job.” Saria said with a soft smile and a shrug. 

He nodded, placing the bandages back in the crate. 

He stood tall before Renée and Saria when they were done packing the crate with supplies,  

“Merci.” he thanked in a low honeyed southern accent. 

“Prego.” Saria responded. 

The medic shot her a look of confusion, tilting his head studying her like a puzzle. 

“Comment vous appelez-vous? (What do you call yourself?)” the man asked Saria and Renée. 

Renée looked at him, then looked at Saria expectantly waiting for her to reply. 

“Go on, this is a perfect time to practice, mon ami. (my friend).” Renée encouraged Saria. 

Saria’s eyes flitted between Renée and the medic,  

“Uh-” was all Saria could manage until she heard Renée again. 

“Tu peux le faire, mon ami (You can do it, friend).”  

Saria took a deep breath, “Je m'appelle Rosaria Leone (My name is Rosaria Leone).”  

A smile tugged at the corners of the medic’s mouth. 

“My name is Renée.”  

“I’m Gene. Eugene Roe.” 

“Where are you from?” Renée asked Eugene. 

“Louisiana. Half-Cajun. Et toi? (And you?)” he returned. 

“Bastogne.” Renée answered. 

Eugene looked at Saria. 

“Chicago.” 

His eyes widened like a deer in the headlights. 

“Oh, I thought maybe you-” 

“No, I’m American. My parents were born in Tuscany, Italy.” Saria explained. 

“I see.” he discerned. 

There was a brief silence before he nodded at Saria then turned to follow Renée to the exit. 

“Arrivederci, Eugenio. (Goodbye, Eugene).” Saria called after him in Italian. 

Eugene turned while still walking away displaying a coy smile. 

After some time, Renée returned from showing Eugene out. Her cheeks were rosy, and she wore a subtle smile as she mindlessly stirred the boiling pot of bandages.

“Renée?” 

No response. 

“Renée?” Saria said again a little louder. 

Renée looked at her startled, “Oui?”  

Saria laughed, “You were gone for a good couple of minutes. Où étiez-vous? (Where were you?)” Saria stated. 

Renée smiled, “I caught up with our new friend to give him some chocolat.” 

“That was nice of you, Renée.” 

“You can see in his eyes he’s seen some awful things. He needed to be shown some kindness.” Renée explained. 

~~~~~~~ 

It wasn’t the last time Renée and Saria saw Eugene Roe. The second time he had visited, Renée and Saria were frantically trying to stop a soldier from bleeding out from his mid-section. As Saria tried to pack the wound where the source of the bleeding was while Gene had been wiping the blood away so she could see where the artery was. The soldier expired leaving Renée, Gene, and Saria disheartened and lost in their own thoughts.  

Saria sauntered towards the spiral staircase to the main entrance so she could go outside to get some air. Eventually, Renée and Eugene joined her. Saria sat by a pile of broken furniture in front of the church, with her face buried in her hands. Renée sat next to Saria draping an arm across her shoulders pulling her in for a side hug. 

“Ça va mon ami? (Are you alright, my friend?)” Renée asked. 

Saria only nodded; not even sure she really was ok. 

Eugene observed each of their hands. Saria’s hands, bruised with remanence of the soldier’s blood after failing to wash all of it off her knuckles and nails and Renée's hands bearing the same appearances. Renée pulled a new bar of chocolate from her apron pocket and began tearing away the paper.  

She broke off a section, nudging Saria, “Tiens, belle amie (Here, beautiful friend).” 

Saria accepted the chocolate, “Vous êtes trop gentil. (You’re too kind).” 

Renée offered Eugene the candy, but as he took it from her, he smiled. 

“What?” Renée asked. 

“Your hands.” Eugene gestured to her and Saria. Saria slowly looked up at him. 

“Our hands?” Renée reiterated. 

He nodded, “You’re good nurses.” he complimented. 

Renée looked at her hands, “No. I never want to treat another wounded man again. I’d rather work in a butcher’s shop.” 

Eugene’s eyebrows drew inward hearing her statement. 

“But your touch calms people.” he defended, “That’s a gift from God.” he added. 

Renée shook her head, “No, it’s not a gift,” she flipped her hands over to look at the back of them, “God would never give such a painful thing.” she proclaimed. 

“Renée, you don’t mean that.” Saria insisted. 

“Oh, mais je le fais, mon ami. (Oh, but I do, my friend).” Renee said with a weak smile. 

A jeep pulled up with yet another wounded soldier, “Nurse! Nurse! We need some help over here!” 

Renée looked over her shoulder, “Stay and rest awhile longer, mon ami. I’ll take care of this.” She said to Saria as she gave her an encouraging hug before she stood up and ran off. 

A moment of silence passed before Eugene spoke again. 

“Is that how you feel, too?” he asked her. 

Saria sighed, “No. I don’t.” she replied confidently shaking her head before meeting his gaze. 

“Glad to hear it.” he affirmed with a slight smile as he looked back down at the candy bar in his hand. 

Saria folded her hands in her lap. 

“Comment se porte ton français? (How’s your French coming along?)” Eugene quizzed her with a mischievous grin. 

Saria looked at him alarmed, and slightly embarrassed. She rubbed the back of her neck and began to blush. 

“Oh, uh-” she began, “-tellement, tellement (so, so.)” she replied. 

Eugene chuckled, “I've heard you do better than that.” he declared, “Tell me something new you’ve learned. Peut-être que je peux aider. (Maybe I can help.)” he offered. 

Saria felt heat rise from her collar. 

“Ce serait généreux de votre part, Eugène (That would be generous of you, Eugene),” she managed to say, “-merci.” 

“Prego.” Eugene answered modestly in Italian with a welcoming smile. 

Saria laughed aloud at his playful response. 

“Guess I could return the favor and teach you some Italian.” she suggested. 

“Sure.” Gene allotted. “Guess I’ll be heading back to the line then. See ya around, mon ami.” He stood and ran towards the jeep to hitch a ride. 

Saria watched the jeep speed off with Eugene in the front seat, saying a silent prayer to herself for him to be safe when he makes it to the front lines. 

~~~~~~~ 

Christmas Eve 1944 

The third run in with Eugene, he brought in an Easy Company soldier, with an IV already applied. As they carried him in setting him down onto a cot, the receiving medic, Jones, began hounding Gene for the man’s information. 

“Where’s his tag?” Jones looked all over the man’s person, then looked at Gene again, “Where’s his tag?” 

Eugene stared at his buddy lying on the cot unable to move. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Jones pushed. 

Eugene looked at him calmly, “Paralyzed.” he responded simply. 

“What?” Jones asked. 

Eugene sighed, “He’s paralyzed. Can’t feel a thing.” he clarified. 

Renée saw him from across the room, “Eugene?” 

Gene looked at her, his spirits lifted the moment he saw her smile. 

“Eugene.” Renée greeted him. 

“Renée-” he replied with frail delight in his voice. 

“Are you-” Renee started to ask before she was interrupted. 

“-Renée, I need some help over here!” Jones called from the back. 

“Are you all right?” Renée continued as she walked towards Eugene. 

“Renée! We need you!” Jones called again. 

She looked towards the rear of the church where Jones was then huffed in frustration. She met Gene’s disappointed expression, gave him an apologetic smile then scampered off. 

“Bonjour, Eugène.” Saria greeted. 

“Bonjour, Rosaria, mon ami. (Hello, Rosaria, my friend),” he returned with a fleeting smile. 

Saria looked Gene over, “You ok?”  

He met her concerned guise with soft tired eyes, “Oui.” he responded plainly. 

Saria gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “Je suis toujours là, mon ami. (I’m always here, friend.)” Saria reassured him. 

He looked at her and nodded, “Merci, mon ami.” he replied managing a genuine smile. 

Saria returned a smile then proceeded past him. 

“Oh, and Eugene-” she called back to him. 

He turned to her. 

“Joyeux noël. (Merry Christmas.)” she projected somewhat cheerfully to him, sending him a wink before he could reply. 

Eugene smiled to himself, feeling that bit of warmth in his heart that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

~~~~~~~ 

Eugene returned to the line, only to have to go back to Bastogne to bring LT Welsh to the aid station that night. Upon entering the town, everyone was in a panic, running to find cover from an imminent German air raid heading towards the town.  

Upon hearing the siren alerting the town of the attack, Renée and Saria began assisting the wounded who tolerated the ability to move to evacuate the church.  

On the other side of the town, Eugene could see the enemy aircraft approaching. He started to race towards the church to see if Renée, Saria, and Anna had been able to reach safety. As he sprinted towards the aid station, the bombers passed overhead releasing shells on every building in their wake until one hit the church, releasing a mushrooming blast from the steeple. Another bomber deploying a bigger explosive, shattered the foundation of the stone building, sending it to shambles to the ground below. 

Eugene stopped in his tracks, shielding his eyes from the piercing light from the blast. Frozen from shock and disbelief, his mind began piecing together the possibility that Renée, Saria, and Anna were still in the church during the bombing. To this thought, he began running again, pushing through the crowds to reach his friends. 

~~~~~~~ 

Eugene searched relentlessly for the three nurses. As dawn approached, he began to lose hope. He had asked everyone he bumped into if they had seen Renée, Saria, or Anna. Everyone he asked either hadn’t known the whereabouts of any medical personnel or had conflicting stories of who made it out or not.

Just when Eugene was ready to give up, he saw a familiar figure sitting on a pile of stones that had collapsed from the church. As he cautiously approached, he recognized the face of this young woman seated before him. 

“Rosaria?” He addressed the woman with strain behind his voice. 

Saria turned slowly; her bloodshot eyes met his hopeful face while tears trailed through the dirt on her cheeks. When she saw it was Eugene, her tear flow increased beyond her ability to see. 

“Eugene.” she gasped as she tried to stand to meet him. As she did, she lost her footing on the gravel. 

Eugene snaked his arms around her, pulling her into him so she wouldn’t fall forward. 

“Hey, now! Je t'ai eu (I got you).” he exclaimed. 

He helped her stand up right, pulling her square to him so he could talk to her. 

“Are you ok!?” he asked. 

“I-I’m alive.” Saria stuttered. 

Eugene kneaded her shoulders with his hands. 

“Et Renée? (And Renée?) Anna?” he dared to ask holding Saria steady by the shoulders. 

Saria looked away from Eugene and began to sniffle. Eugene waited. 

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a blue head scarf and handed it to him. He took it from her, realizing it was the same one that Renée had worn. 

He stared at the blue cloth in his hand as everything began to sink in. 

“We-” Saria tried to explain but her overwhelming anguish had her struggling to speak, “-we were evacuating as many men as we could. Renée had----gone back inside to find Anna right before the first shell dropped on the church-”  

Eugene redirected his eyes onto Saria. He swallowed hard, biting back the tears he felt building up. 

“When the first bomb hit, I tried to go in to get her...then the second one hit blocking the entrance to the church. I couldn’t get to them, Eugene.” Saria whispered, staring over his shoulder reliving the horrific scene as if it was replaying in front of her on a movie screen. 

She started to shake her head, “If I had only gotten there sooner-” 

“No,” Gene placed a hand on each side of her face bringing her attention to him, “what happened to Renée and Anna is not your fault. You hear me?”  

Saria’s tears spilled over like waterfalls.  

He pulled her into his chest, allowing her to sob into his jacket as he stroked her hair. 

“Ssshhh,” Gene soothed, “Je suis là, belle amie. Je suis là (I’m right here, beautiful friend. I’m here.)” 

~~~~~~~

[joanofarcs-stigmata]

Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mystical Rose, Water of the Desert, we ask that you pray for your children to God the Father, that He will protect all migrants.

Ask the Father to pour out the love of the Holy Spirit upon all who are isolated, alone, and separated by choice or necessity from their native lands.

May those torn away from their families and forced to leave their country to find work elsewhere be reunited: spouse with spouse and guardian with child.

We especially ask for the intercession of your immaculate heart for migrant women and children, who are particularly vulnerable to the dangers of human trafficking. Please give them your protection and shield them from evil.

May the Church receive the grace to welcome with love migrants who enter past any boundary, seeking a home in our parishes and communities.

We ask for your prayers and intercession for all immigrants, especially those who are desperate, alone, and in need of God's loving support.

We beg for your love, compassion, help, and protection for all immigrants who today experience great sufferings, sorrows, necessities, and misfortunes. Cover them with your mantel, oh Virgin of Guadalupe, as we remember your words to Saint Juan Diego:

“Listen, put it into your heart, my youngest and dearest son, that the thing that frightens you, the thing that afflicts you, is nothing: do not let it disturb you…Am I not here, I who am your Mother? Are you not under my shadow and protection? Am I not the source of your joy? Are you not in the hollow of my mantle, in the crossing of my arms? Do you need something more? Let nothing else worry you or disturb you.”

[orthodoxydaily]

ICON, SAINTS&READING: SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 21, 2024

september 8_september 21

THE NATIVITY OF OUR MOST HOLY LADY THE THEOTOKOS AND EVER VIRGIN MARY

By Fr. Alexander Schmemann

The Church’s veneration of Mary has always been rooted in her obedience to God and her willing choice to accept a humanly impossible calling. The Orthodox Church has always emphasized Mary’s connection to humanity and delighted in her as the best, purest, most sublime fruition of human history and of man’s quest for God for ultimate meaning, for the ultimate content of human life. If in Western Christianity, veneration of Mary was centered upon her perpetual virginity, the heart of Orthodox Christian East’s devotion, contemplation, and joyful delight have always been her Motherhood, her flesh and blood connection to Jesus Christ. The East rejoices that the human role in the divine plan is pivotal. The Son of God comes to earth, appears to redeem the world, He becomes human to incorporate man into His divine vocation, but humanity takes part in this. If it is understood that Christ’s “co‐nature” with us is as a human be‐ ing and not some phantom or bodiless apparition, that He is one of us and forever united to us through His and forever humanity, then devotion to Mary also becomes understandable, for she is the one who gave Him His human nature, His flesh and blood. She is the one through whom Christ can always call Himself “The Son of Man.” Son of God, Son of Man…God descending and becoming man so that man could become divine, could become partaker of the divine nature (2 Peter 1:4), or as the teachers of the Church expressed it, “deified.” Precisely here, in this extraordinary revelation of man’s authentic nature and calling, is the source of that gratitude and tenderness that cherishes Mary as our link to Christ and, in Him, to God. And nowhere is this reflected more clearly than in the Nativity of the Mother of God.

ICON: SOPHIA THE WISDOM OF GOD OF KIEV

The Icon of Sophia, the Wisdom of God (Kiev), occupies an unique place in the Russian Orthodox Church. On the icon is depicted the Theotokos, and the Hypostatic Wisdom, the Son of God incarnate of Her.

In Wisdom or Sophia, ponders the Son of God, about Whom in the Proverbs of Solomon it says: “Wisdom has built a house for herself, and has set up seven pillars” (9:1). These words refer to Christ, the Son of God, Who in the Epistles of Saint Paul is called “Wisdom of God” (1 Cor.1:30), and the word “house” refers to the Most Holy Virgin Mary, of Whom the Son of God is incarnate.

The arrangement of the icon bears witness to the fulfillment of this prophecy. On the Kiev icon of Sophia is a church, and standing there is the Mother of God in a robe with a veil on her head, under an archway of seven pillars. The palms of Her hands are outstretched, and her feet are set upon a crescent moon. The Theotokos holds the Pre-eternal Christ Child, blessing with Her right hand, and holding the Infant with Her left.

On the cornice of the entrance are inscribed the words from the Book of Proverbs: “Wisdom has built a house for herself, and has set up seven pillars.” Over the entrance are depicted God the Father and God the Holy Spirit. From the mouth of God the Father issues the words: “I am affirmation of Her footsteps.”

Along both sides the seven Archangels are depicted with outstretched wings, holding in their hands symbols of their duties. On the right side: Michael with flaming sword; Uriel with a lightning flash hurling downwards; Raphael with alabaster vessel of myrrh. On the left side: Gabriel with a lily blossom; Selaphiel with a scale; Jerudiel with royal crown; and Barachiel with flowers on a white shawl.

Under a cloud with the crescent moon, serving as a footrest for the Mother of God, is a staircase with seven steps (depicting the Church of God on earth). Those standing on the seven steps are the Old Testament witnesses of the manifestation of Wisdom, the Forefathers and the Prophets.

On each of the seven steps are inscribed faith, hope, love, purity, humility, blessedness, and glory. The staircase's seven steps are set upon the seven pillars, on which images are inscribed, and their explanations are taken from the Apocalypse.

Philippians 2:5-11

5 Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus,6 who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, 7 but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. 8 And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross. 9 Therefore God also has highly exalted Him and given Him the name which is above every name, 10 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, of those in heaven, and of those on earth, and of those under the earth, 11 and that every tongue should confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

Luke 10:38-42; 11:27-28

38 Now it happened as they went that He entered a certain village; and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. 39 And she had a sister called Mary, who also sat at Jesus' feet and heard His word. 40 But Martha was distracted with much serving, and she approached Him and said, "Lord, do You not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Therefore tell her to help me." 41 And Jesus answered and said to her, "Martha, Martha, you are worried and troubled about many things. 42 But one thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her. 27 And it happened, as He spoke these things, that a certain woman from the crowd raised her voice and said to Him, "Blessed is the womb that bore You, and the breasts which nursed You!" 28 But He said, "More than that, blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it!"

[stvlti]

linger like a sandwalk - a playlist for Dune Part Two

I'm back ��� after 2 years of not posting new playlists for my fandoms 💃 this new Dune movie is living in my head rent free 😮‍💨 of course I had to make fanmix for this one to try and consolidate my thoughts.

Tracks ⏏️

Bloodline -- Gabriels  //  No Church in the Wild -- Jay-Z & Kanye West  //  Mary Magdalene -- FKA Twigs  //  Pink Matter  -- Frank Ocean  //  Smother -- Daughter  //  Say You'll Go -- Janelle Monáe  //  A Time of Quiet Between Storms (Dune Part Two OST) -- Hans Zimmer  //  Your Blood -- Nothing But Thieves  //  The River -- Kero Kero Bonito  //  Bad Religion -- Frank Ocean  //  Telekinesis -- Travis Scott ft. SZA & Future  //  Transform -- Daniel Caesar ft. Charlotte Day Wilson

Meta ⏏️

An explanation of the song choices & related thoughts on the film *

(*) I still have not read the book *lies down* As soon as life slows down I swear I will. The 2 Denis Villeneuve films combined already make for a rich narrative and storyworld however, and this playlist is very much based on that.

▶️ Bloodline -- Gabriels

It's the bloodline This thing came before you Bloodline

I wanted to open this playlist on something that gets right at (one of) the core themes of Villeneuve's Dune, and to me that is the idea of bloodlines, legacies and self-fulfilling prophecies.

Birth rights can be stole Truth is you were always alone Tears in your hands Seems you lost before you began Your ancestors' blood fed the soil and the sand

I think a point that many filmgoers miss - and is also a point I missed on my first viewing of Part Two - is that the Lisan Al Gaib prophecy and Paul's claim to it is wholly manufactured. Upon rewatch, several lines in the 2 films jumped out to me: 'On Arrakis, a path has been laid' (Mother Mohiam in Part One), and first Paul (during his first meal in Sietch Tabr) and then Lady Jessica's declaration that they must persuade the non-believers that he is the Lisan Al Gaib so as to ensure their continued survival among the Fremen. Irulan's later commentary, 'these are our religious patterns', cemented this fact for me. We are reminded that The Bene Gesserit has sent missionaries to the Fremen over decades and centuries, creating the religious circumstances for Paul to consolidate power among the natives. He has as much a claim to the title of the Mahdi / Lisan Al Gaib as any other outerworlder from the Houses of the Imperium - that is to say, he isn't really the Chosen One. 'Birth rights can be stole', and this is a birth right he stole.

Yet, he does undoubtedly hail from his mother's Bene Gesserit lineage and, through consuming the Water of Life, inherit the ancestral memories of both his masculine and feminine forebearers from both the royal bloodlines and the Fremen lineage of Reverend Mothers. (We see this during the montage after he takes the WoL, falling through a super cut of the faces of the Fremen Reverend Mothers who came before him before eventually finding a vision of Alia on the sand dunes.) His 'ancestors' blood fed the soil and the sand' on which he now stands as the (false) prophet that will lead his Fremen tribe to ruin...

It's the bloodline Don't let it destroy you Bloodline

... and in ascending to the title of the Mahdi, he will undoubtedly lose everything that made him Paul the individual in the first place. Greater prophecies, plans and conspiracies will eclipse his humanity. This is the real bloodline that drives him to war and genocide. 'Don't let it destroy you' - but maybe it's already too late.

▶️ No Church in the Wild -- Jay-Z & Kanye West

I mean, come on, this song choice is just too obvious isn't it?

Human beings in a mob What's a mob to a king? What's a king to a God? What's a God to a non-believer who don't believe in anything? Will he make it out alive? Alright, alright No church in the wild

'Mob' = the Fremen and their Fedaykin guerilla troops. 'King' = Rabban, and later Feyd-Rautha, and the Harkonnen regime. 'God' = Paul as Mahdi and Muad'dib, the desert terrorist. 'Non-believer' = Chani and her brethren among the Northern skeptics.

But the sonical landscape of this song also played a huge part in my inclusion of the song on this list. I'm a lover of words before all else, but something about Dune made me want to curate a sonically coherent playlist that accompanies the story in lyrics as much as it does in sound. The grueling, forward momentum of this song's iconic beat lends itself to the raids the Fedaykin warriors launched against the Harkonnen-controlled spice fields.

▶️ Mary Magdalene -- FKA Twigs

In my head I call this the quintessential Bene Gesserit song. Listen, and read the lyrics:

A woman's work A woman's prerogative

The song makes it clear from the very first lines that it's about the woman's birthright and sovereignty. Most of the Bene Gesserit ladies we see in this film have roots in the royal bloodlines themselves. In that, they have a claim to a particular prerogative. Yet they also actively govern the domain of procreation, descendancy, succession, and survival of royal bloodlines. That is the nature of 'a woman's work' in this storyworld.

A woman's touch, a sacred geometry I know where you start, where you end How to please, how to curse Yes, I learnt you needed me Yes, I'm here to open you Yes, I know that your heart is blue (So cold)

FKA Twigs' darkly seductive vocals paired with this particular verse really evokes that entire Lady Fenring/Feyd-Rautha sequence.

I fear before the fire True as Mary Magdalene Creature of desire Come just a little bit closer to me Step just a little bit closer to me

The seduction continues here, but there's power inherent in the 'creature of desire' Mary Magdalene represents. Her story and her iconography bears a heavy resemblance to the Bene Gesserit sisters and their relationships with the men of the Imperium and its court.

I can lift you higher I do it like Mary Magdalene I want you to say it Come just a little bit closer 'til we collide

A woman's hands So dark and provocative A nurturing breath that could stroke Your divine confidence

I really fuck with the Mary Magdalene allegory in this song, and the chorus nails the mythos and authority she commands in modern reimaginings of her figure in relation to Jesus' mythos. Yet there's something softer in the latter half of the chorus - the devotion she shows to her partner is on equal footing, less of manipulation and more of the muse she can be for him to realise his full potential. With the arrival of the second verse we truly see how important she is to a man's dominion. 'A nurturing breath that could stroke [His] divine confidence': that is the power of Lady's Jessica's love for and devotion to Leto Atreides.

A woman's war Unoccupied history True nature won't search to destroy If it doesn't make sense

Of course, it would be remiss of me not to point out that certain parts of the Bene Gesserit's characterisation functions as a manifestation and perpetuation of Frank Herbert's very of-its-time misogynistic, gender essentialist ideas of a woman's station and the (only) avenue through which she derives her power in the material world - her womb. (Miss me with that radical feminist bs.) But we also see, in the film, Princess Irulan's character: a female historian whom the film suggests would have been happier free from the trappings of the Bene Gesserit programme and her Imperial lineage. 'A woman's war; unoccupied history': Mary Magdalene is a prime example of how for most of history, women are often anonymous (as that Virginia Woolf saying goes), their histories are often erased and deemed as unimportant; Irulan's inner thoughts and history are also cast aside and given no voice in the Dune narrative, but in an ironic twist, she dedicates her life to documenting the history of others.

▶️  Pink Matter -- Frank Ocean

What do you think my brain is made for? Is it just a container for the mind? This great, grey matter Sensei replied, "What is your woman? Is she just a container for the child?" That soft, pink matter

This song provides more of a male - or at least, androgynous - perspective on the question of the Bene Gesserit breeding programme ('Is she just a container for the child?' / 'My God, she's giving me pleasure'). But it gets right at the core of the question of whether the women in this universe, and the avenue through which they gain power, is truly confined to being 'just a container for the child'. I also really liked the direct parallels Frank Ocean's lyrics draw between the womb (pink matter) and the mind (grey matter), as the other main source of power Jessica drives from is through her mind and the prescience becoming the Reverend Mother has afforded her.

▶️ Smother -- Daughter

In my head I call this Lady Jessica's song.

I want all that is not mine I want him, but we're not right In the darkness, I will meet my creators And they will all agree that I'm a suffocator

I think it's more intimate than either of the 2 songs that come before this one, and centres Jessica squarely in her role as a mother before her place as a Bene Gesserit sister. She knows she will meet her creators - the generations of mothers and Bene Gesserit sisters who came before her - and she knows they will disapprove of the path she has manipulated to suit her ends, first for Duke Leto (in bearing him a son) and then for her son's survival (in spreading propaganda of him as the Lisan Al Gaib among the Fremen tribes). Now I know that the films sort of reduce her to a one-dimensional villain in Part Two, but I've heard that she is a lot less gungho about their little homegrown personality cult of Paul as the Lisan Al Gaib / Mahdi in the book. In fact, his accelerated transformation into a religious figurehead and his willingness to exploit the Fremen for that, at the cost of his own humanity, seems to be an unintended outcome that she regrets. She has unwittingly become a 'suffocator', in that regard - a mother killing her own child's humanity in his metaphorical cradle as soon as she exposed him to tales of the prophecy.

Oh love I'm sorry if I smothered you I sometimes wish I'd stayed inside My mother

▶️  Say You'll Go -- Janelle Monáe

Say you'll go to Nirvana Will you leave Samsara? Or in the words of Dhammapada, "Who will lead? Who will follow?" Our love will sail in this ark The world could end outside our window Let's find forever And write our name in fire on each others' hearts

Something about Janelle's crooning vocals against the symphonic strings and melodies just makes this a timeless love song. I love including it in for my ships 🥺 and I think it rather fits PaulChani, the star-crossed lovers that they are. 'Let's find forever' is my 'I will love you as long as I breathe'.

But of course, the question of whether Paul will go south looms over their heads like the Sword of Damocles. 'Will you leave Samsara? ... Who will lead? Who will follow?'

▶️  A Time of Quiet Between Storms (Dune Part Two OST)

Among the Dune OST, this song holds a higher and special place in my heart because of the way it celebrates their first on-screen kiss, but is also used as a reprise of sorts at the end of the film as Chani walks out on Paul. It's a bittersweet track. And it's lived in my mind rent free much the same way that last shot of Chani, with her quivering lips and angry eyes, has.

This brings me to the name of the playlist: the PaulChani tragedy, and just, the film as a whole, has definitely lingered in my mind. It has dragged against my thoughts gently, but persistently like the rhythm of a sandwalk.

I also chose to place it in the middle of playlist to sever it into 2 parts, much the same way the film is severed into 2 parts: before Paul undergoes the Water of Life ritual, when he is still an idealistic boy who actively rejects the title of the Mahdi for fear of the wartorn future he's foreseen, and afterwards, when he claims the mantle of the Mahdi.

▶️  Your Blood -- Nothing But Thieves

You know it's your blood that I bleed Tell me that there's some way that I'll get through the night I carry your moral disease I don't wanna be something I'm not to stay alive

You guys don't know how long I've wanted to put this song on a fanmix!! I've called this Joey Wilson/Jericho's song from the moment I heard it 😂 but I think the same themes can be found in Paul's story too, specifically his first scene right after recovering from the Water of Life ritual. 'We're Harkonnens.' And his realisation that that's how they'll survive: by becoming Harkonnens. It's the Baron's blood that he bleeds, and conflicted as he is about that, eventually he'll come to realise that he has to 'be something I'm not to stay alive'.

▶️  The River -- Kero Kero Bonito

Holy mother Receive our hearts in your arms And let our souls pass The day the rain returns again

These 4 lines are repeated throughout the song, almost like a prayer. It reminds me of the way Stilgar holds onto those same 4 words, 'As it was written', throughout the film as an affirmation of his religious convictions - the belief that the true Mahdi will bring paradise one day and with it, the rain.

When Earth is submerging And heaven is open The river will carry all of us to Where we belong ... Then a torrent crashes down Releasing the jungle swelling in the ground And as was foretold our time is out

▶️  Bad Religion -- Frank Ocean

If it brings me to my knees It's a bad religion This unrequited love To me, it's nothing but a one-man cult And cyanide in my styrofoam cup I can never make him love me Never make him love me

This song places us in Chani's pov. To her, Paul's meteoric rise of notoriety among the Fremen is 'nohting but a one-man cult'. She loved him as he was - an outsider who stayed humble and learnt her ways, and earned a place among her Fedaykin brethren. But as a power-tripping outerworlder claiming to be the Mahdi - she doesn't recognise him, and she 'can never make him love [her]' again, not as the man he has become.

▶️  Telekinesis -- Travis Scott ft. SZA & Future

I could've took the pain and I could've went out sad Streets stepped in and raised me, but I ain't have my daddy

So I'm gonna be honest: this is actually the track that started this entire project for me 🙈 But you see it, right? Travis Scott as Paul's voice, and SZA as Chani's...

I can see the future, it's lookin' like we level through the sky I can't wait to live in glory in eternal lastin' life

The fact that 'I can see the future' is the refrain of this song. In its original context I'm almost certain that Travis meant it less literally, and more in the realm of being able to guess the trajectory of his career as he continues to top the charts as a hip hop superstar. But it lends well to the context of Paul's religious myth-making as well. 'Eternal lasting life' and all that.

How can I sleep when you're out catchin' bodies? I still wanna be with you, trust me, I know that's insane ... We both ain't shit and it's workin' for me Workin' for me, yeah I can see the future, I can see the future

The thing that breaks my heart about the ending of the film is that you can see Chani still loves Paul, but not who he has become. I also like that the song flips the refrain around and has SZA sing it too. Except when she says, 'I can see the future', she says it self-deprecatingly. It's a future of more heartbreak and betrayal (by way of mutual infidelity) and ruin.

▶️  Transform -- Daniel Caesar ft. Charlotte Day Wilson

If a leopard never changes its spots How can I change what I've got? Transform, transform, transform, transform We don't punish the tiger for catching its prey So how am I the one to blame? If it's in my nature Transform, transform, transform, transform

One thing rewatching these films has made me realise is that Paul's 'sudden flip' to becoming a coloniser exploiting the Fremen's religion for his own gains in Imperial politics after drinking the Water of Life is actually less of a plot twist and more of an inevitability that has been advertised since Part One. Towards the end of the first film, he says to Liet Kynes that he intends to marry one of the Emperor's daughters and make a play for the throne. In Part Two, during his first meal at Sietch Tabr, he says to his mother that he must convince the non-believers that he is the Lisan Al Gaib. He may not have intended to bear the mantle of the Mahdi, perhaps he was foolishly, idealistically looking for a different path towards revenge and the throne, but he has never been above playing the game and utilising court politics to secure his 'victory', so to speak. He was born of royal blood and forged in those politics. It's in his nature.

It's never over until life ends Lay down beside me, do it again

These 2 lines reminds me again of that promise Paul and Chani exchanged: 'I will love you as long as I breathe'. (And if I remember correctly, Chani said something to the effect of 'I will be here for you as long as you stay who you are' as well.) I didn't want to end this playlist on a downer ending, hence this song choice.

If you've made it this far into my meta-commentary, thank you! Hope you've enjoyed this playlist ♡

[scotianostra]

On 19th August 1560 the Scottish scholar and poet, James Crichton, was born.

Soldier, scholar, poet and athlete, he was a graduate of St Andrews University and a tutor of King James VI. James Crichton, known as the Admirable Crichton, was a Scottish polymath, a latin term that translates to “universal man”, basically he was good at everything!

Crichton wasnoted for his extraordinary accomplishments in languages, the arts, and sciences. One of the most gifted individuals of the 16th century, James Crichton of Clunie Perthshire, was the son of Robert Crichton of Eliok, Lord Advocate of Scotland, and Elizabeth Stewart, from whose line James could claim Royal descent.

At the age of eight Crichton’s eloquence in his native vernacular was compared with that of Demosthenes and Cicero. By fifteen he knew “perfectly” Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Arabic, and Syriac; and commanded native conversational fluency in Spanish, French, Italian, “Dutch”, Flemish, and, oh, “Sclavonian”, don’t worry I looked it up for us, it’s basically Slovenian.

That was the mere beginning of Crichton’s admirableness. He was also a champion athlete, a horseman, a fencer, a dancer, a singer of rare voice, and the master of most known wind and string instruments. His St. Andrews professor, Rutherford, a noted commentator, judged him to be one of the leading philosophers of the era.

After sucking all the available education to him in Scotland, it was only natural he should start on mainland Europe, he studied in France at the College of Navarre at the University of Paris. Here the young Scotsman cut a broad swath, though according to his jealous fellows his arenas of greatest activity were the tavernia’s and the whorehouses, rather than the lecture hall. Young Crichton did like the ladies, who in turn found him most–admirable.

He may have been liked by the ladies, but nobody likes a big heid, and that is how Crichton must have come across to many, nowadays he would have been one of the Chasers, or an Egghead on our TV screens, but back in the 16th century there were no such outlets for Crichton to show his big heid off, so he had posters printed up declaring that on a day six weeks hence, at nine in the morning, in the main hall of the College of Navarre, he intended to present himself to dispute with all comers all questions put to him regarding any subject. He had these put up on all the appropriate notice boards and church doors, before disappearing into the red light district to prepare himself for the contest. His adversaries had to quit laughing when on the appointed day Crichton appeared as advertised and bested the greatest local experts in grammar, mathematics, geometry, music, astronomy, logic, and theology.

The Crichton Show, having conquered Paris, moved next to the Italian peninsula. The young Scot performed memorable feats of academic disputation first in Rome and then in Venice. There he became fast friends with the famous scholar-printer Aldus Munitius, who is a credible witness to some of his more amazing intellectual performances. One of his ways of showing off was giving off the cuff instances of Comedic verse, a sort of Stand Up routine, but with that Crichton twist, the odes he told were in Latin!

Tradition has it on the street in Mantua one night he was accosted by four swordsmen, with superb sword play Crichton disarmed them all and forced them to show their faces. One of them, their leader indeed, turned out to be one of his pupils and prodigy, Vincenzo Gonzaga who was the son of The Duke of Mantua. Crichton was in the Duke’s employ and the youngster was jealous of the Scot, Crichton was also romantically linked to Vicenzo’s ex mistress. On seeing Vincenzo, Crichton instantly dropped to one knee and presented his sword, hilt first, to the prince, his master’s son. Vincenzo took the blade and with it stabbed Crichton cruelly through the heart, killing him instantly. James Crichton of Cluny was then in his twenty-second year.

There have been many accounts of Crichton in literature through the years since, mostly fictional but with hints of the story, the most famous is arguably the J M Barrie play, but the title of the play is the only semblance to the story of the Scottish Polymath.

[portraitsofsaints]

Saint Juan Diego 1474-1548 Feast day: December 9 Patronage: America and Natives

Saint Juan Diego was an indigenous Mexican who embraced the Catholic faith, spread by the Spanish friars, that came with Cortez. On December 9th, 1531, Our Lady appeared to him on Tepeyac Hill (Guadalupe), as he was going to Mass, asking for a church to be built on that spot. After convincing the skeptical Bishop of the authenticity of the apparition, through Mary’s miraculous image on his tilma (cloak) and Castillian roses spilling out when he opened the tilma, the Bishop had the church built. Thousands of conversions occurred, when the tilma, with Our Lady’s image on it, was processed through Mexico City. St. Juan Diego spent the rest of his life as the caretaker of the tilma and telling the story of the apparition. The tilma can be seen today in the basilica in Mexico City.

Prints, plaques & holy cards available for purchase here: (website)

[thepastisalreadywritten]

In 1531, a "Lady from Heaven" appeared to Saint Juan Diego, a poor Indian from Tepeyac, a hill northwest of Mexico City.

She identified herself as the Mother of the True God and instructed him to have the bishop build a church on the site.

As a sign for the bishop, she left an image of herself imprinted miraculously on his tilma, a poor quality cactus-cloth.

The tilma should have deteriorated within 20 years but shows no sign of decay after over 470 years.

To this day, it defies all scientific explanations of its origin.

In the eyes of Our Lady of Guadalupe on the tilma, we can see reflected what was in front of her in 1531.

Her message of love and compassion, and her universal promise of help and protection to all mankind, as well as the story of the apparitions, are described in the "Nican Mopohua," a 16th-century document written in the native Nahuatl language.

There is reason to believe that at Tepeyac, Mary came in her glorified body and her actual physical hands rearranged the roses in Juan Diego’s tilma, which makes this apparition very special.

An incredible list of miracles, cures, and interventions are attributed to Our Lady of Guadalupe.

Each year, an estimated 10 million people visit her Basilica, making her Mexico City home the most popular Marian shrine in the world and the most visited Catholic church in the world after Saint Peter’s Basilica in the Vatican.

There is no under sketch, no sizing and no protective over-varnish on the image.

Microscopic examination revealed that there were no brush strokes.

The image seems to increase in size and change colors due to an unknown property of the surface and substance of which it is made.

According to Kodak of Mexico, the image is smooth and feels like a modern day photograph.

(Produced 300 years before the invention of photography.)

The image has consistently defied exact reproduction, whether by brush or camera.

Several images can be seen reflected in the eyes of the Virgin.

It is believed to be the images of Juan Diego, Bishop Juan de Zummaraga, Juan Gonzales-the interpreter, and others.

The distortion and place of the images are identical to what is produced in the normal eye, which is impossible to obtain on a flat surface.

The stars on Our Lady's Mantle coincide with the constellation in the sky on 12 December 1531.

All who have scientifically examined the image of Our Lady over the centuries confess that its properties are absolutely unique and so inexplicable in human terms that the image can only be supernatural.

Altogether, 24 popes have officially honored Our Lady of Guadalupe.

His Holiness Blessed John Paul II visited her Sanctuary four times: on his first apostolic trip outside Rome as Pope in 1979, and again in 1990, 1999 and 2002.

The Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe is celebrated on December 12th.

In 1999, Blessed John Paul II, in his homily given during the Solemn Mass at the Basilica of Our Lady of Guadalupe, his third visit to the sanctuary, declared the date of December the 12th as a Liturgical Holy Day for the whole continent.

During the same visit, Pope John Paul II entrusted the cause of life to her loving protection and placed under her motherly care the innocent lives of children, especially those who are in danger of not being born.

—

Patronage: Americas, Central America, Diocese of Colorado Springs Colorado, Diocese of Corpus Christi Texas, Diocese of Dodge City, Kansas, Estremadura Spain, Diocese of Gallup New Mexico, Mexico, Diocese of Nashville Tennessee, New Mexico, New World, Diocese of Orange California, Diocese of Phoenix Arizona, Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, Diocese of Sacramento, California, Diocese of Sioux City Iowa, Spain.