I received an e-mail this morning with pictures of a sandstorm in Al Asad, Irag, on April 26, 2005. If you haven’t seen these yet, be sure you do… they’re truly amazing.

A Marine Corps News article said:

A dust storm similar to special effects on the big screen bellowed across the western desert of Iraq on April 26. The storm was spawned near the border of Syria and Jordan. Forward Operating Base Korean Village experienced tornadoes around 2 p.m. The storm moved in a northeasterly direction until it reached Al Asad, around 6:45.

As the storm moved closer the sky changed to a shade of orange until total darkness blanketed the ground. The storm passed over in about 45 minutes, leaving a heavy sheet of dust in its wake. Forecaster say the wall of dust may have reached 4,000 to 5,000 feet.

This dust storm was a spectacular sight and may look worse than it actually was. No one was injured and no equipment was damaged here.

[See additional photos of this sandstorm]

The other day, as I was leaving home for work, I gave my wife a hug and kiss, and patted her on the hind end to say goodbye. She immediately replied, “Oh! I just remembered that the painter is coming this morning at nine o’clock.”

The article starts:

“If you’ve ever longed for a way to monitor your dog’s social life, map out its buddy network and sense who its true friends really are, you might have been waiting for SNIF.”

And I’m thinking to myself, “If you’ve ever longed for a way to monitor your dog’s social life, map out its buddy network and sense who its true friends really are, you really need to get a new hobby.”

Alas, SNIF is real:

[Collar Cultivates Canine Cliques]

There is some degree of controversy surrounding a Mass for Pope John Paul II that will be held at the Vatican today. Cardinal Bernard Law will preside over the Mass of mourning in St. Peter’s Basilica, one of nine eulogies at the Vatican. Being selected is an honor bestowed only on the most influential members of the church’s hierarchy.

Now, even non-Catholics have probably heard of Cardinal Law. A few years ago, at the height of the sex scandal that rocked the church, it came to light that Cardinal Law transferred priests who had been accused of sexual abuse to other parishes — without informing anyone at either the outgoing or incoming parish. Or, to put it a little more bluntly, he took priests that were likely abusing children at one church and moved them to another.

While Cardinal Law wasn’t specifically selected to perform this ritual (instead, it was merely appointed to the Cardinal that holds his current position), it does seem to reopen some barely closed wounds.

“He’s the symbol of the scandal. This is a clear sign that the church is not taking its history of sexual abuse seriously, and that it is not at all in touch with the pain in the American church,” said David Clohessy, national director of a group representing about 5,000 church-sexual abuse victims.

Church officials and other experts — including The Rev. Keith Pecklers, a U.S. priest who teaches at Gregorian University in Rome — defend Law.

“The Vatican sees Cardinal Law as a cardinal in good standing, and moreover, he is a cardinal elector in the conclave and has every right to preach,” Pecklers said.

Personally, though Law didn’t commit any abuses himself, his inaction almost certainly allowed it to continue, so it’s difficult for me to excuse him or forgive him for his conduct. I think forgiveness is generally a simple thing; you just get over it and move on. But when someone takes advantage of or hurts children, forgiveness becomes monumental. And I don’t blame the victims for being unable to offer that forgiveness to Cardinal Law.

[Cardinal Law, Ousted in U.S. Scandal, Is Given a Role in Rites]

[Anti-abuse campaigners seek to bar Cardinal Law]

[Choice of Cardinal Law for Mass disputed]

My Dad, the father of five kids, used to call Sunday “Dread Sunday,” referring to the Herculean efforts required to get all those bodies out of bed and to mass. I’m beginning to understand why. With four young kids of my own (ages 4, 3, and 10-month-old twins), I’m becoming quite familiar with the expression. This past Sunday was Easter, and though the Church views this as the most important occasion of the year, my kids still see it as another opportunity to test the limits of my faith.

In the middle of the most recent mass, Char got up to take Grace to the restroom to change her diaper. (As a side note, we had both families in town for the holiday, so Easter was spent a little like Christmas: we left our house at 9a and got home 12 hours and nearly 100 miles later. This is important, because you have to understand that when we left the house we had to prepare for the invasion of Normandy. In all of that confusion, we left the baby wipes behind.) So, with Char in the restroom fighting a squirmy baby without wipes, things got a little hectic back in the narthex. (We have learned a few things; we’ve yet to return to the inside of church after “the incident”. But that’s a different story.)

By the time Char returned, she had missed both readings and some of the homily. I looked at her at one point and asked, “I thought going to mass was supposed to lower your blood pressure?”

Following mass, we loaded everyone into the car and headed for my sister’s house. While enroute, Char asked what the homily was about, so I briefly recapped the story the priest shared about a young handicapped child. She then asked me to summarize the readings.

“Oh, the readings?” I asked. “They were: Jack, sit down! Lily, get off the floor! Both of you, be quiet! Get back here! Put that down! Shhhh! Quit kicking the pew! Stop that!”

Char laughed and said, “So they were the same as last week?”

She thinks she’s lost a step since staying home with the kids, but I attest that she’s as quick as ever.