Ever since I was in first grade, I have had a very strong interest in swords. I amused myself for years making small wooden swords by nailing two pieces of wood together in a cross shape. I had a ball with these for about five years, but soon I started to want make a sword that was made of steel. Last summer I was finally able to make one. I owe it all to a friend who shares the same interest of sword making. He showed me a special tool called an angle grinder, that will grind and shape steel into almost any shape you can imagine. Almost immediately, I used this tool to carve some knife blades out of construction steel and then attached wooden handles to them.
The knives were great, but I really wanted a steel medieval sword. I checked out some books from the library and spent two weeks doing research. Then I finally decided on a design. It took me about two months of grinding and gluing pieces of steel together, but it is now finally done. The sword turned out very big and heavy, but it looks almost real. Since then it has been used for many different costumes and has even been used for a few school plays and homemade movies. I entered my sword in our county fair exhibition, and it won a first prize ribbon. Sword making has really been a great hobby, and I can’t wait to make another!
“I want to do the mustard,” Renzo said.
“No,” Emilia said. “You can watch.”
Emilia was helping Nana make Christmas dinner. This dinner wasn’t a
turkey with stuffing. It was sandwiches — a whole table full! Emilia
was in the kitchen in the church basement, making a free Christmas
dinner for homeless people.
First Nana laid rows and rows of bread on the counter. Emilia put
two slices of turkey on each slice of bread. Nana put two slices of
cheese. Emilia squirted mustard. Nana squirted mayonnaise. And
Emilia put another slice of bread on top.
“Please can I do the mustard?” Renzo said.
“You’re only four,” Emilia said.
“You’re only seven!”
“Why don’t you go play with Mark?” Nana said. Renzo stomped away.
They put the sandwiches on a big platter. “I can carry it,” Emilia
said.
“Okay,” Nana said. “Be careful.”
The sandwiches were heavy. Very heavy. Nana went out of the
kitchen, and Emilia followed her. The church hall was packed with
tables and wreaths and strangers.
“Hi, Emilia!” said Father Poppo. He was wide and loud, like Santa
Claus. “You sure you won’t drop that mountain of sandwiches?”
Emilia nodded. The sandwiches were so heavy she couldn’t talk.
She walked with Nana walked towards a table. Emilia imagined
dropping the sandwiches. Cheese and turkey would go
everywhere. Renzo would dance on the squishy pile and soak his
sneakers with mustard.
At the table, a woman sat alone. She stared at her hands. She
didn’t smile or frown. She was like a statue of ice.
Emilia tried to skip her, but Nana nodded at her. Emilia’s hands
started to shake. “Don’t worry, sweetie,” Nana whispered.
But Emilia knew she was about to drop those sandwiches. She ran
over and slammed the platter on the table.
The mountain of sandwiches collapsed.
Sandwiches slid like an avalanche. They tumbled onto the table. One
skittered right onto the woman’s lap. It left a bright trail of
mustard.
Emilia wished she could turn into a sandwich herself, at the bottom
of the pile. She tried to say, “I’m sorry,” but she just squeaked.
But the woman started to laugh. “It’s okay, honey. I’m not going to
eat you. Just what’s left of this sandwich.”
Then Nana laughed. And Emilia laughed too, because otherwise she
would start crying.
Nana said, “I hope you like mustard.”
“I look good in mustard,” the woman said. “Everyone always tells
me.”
Emilia and Nana piled the sandwiches and took them to other
people. Some thanked Emilia. Others didn’t look up. But everyone
got something to eat.
When the platter was empty, they went to the kitchen to make
more. Renzo was waiting. “Nana, can I please, please do the
mustard?”
“Ask Emilia,” Nana said.
“Please?”
Emilia hesitated. Renzo actually waited, and didn’t ask again, so
she said, “Sure.”
“Hooray!” Renzo shouted. They laid out some bread, and Renzo
squeezed the mustard.
SQUIRT! Mustard went everywhere.
“Oh no! I made a mess!” He looked at Emilia to see if she was mad.
But she smiled. “It’s okay. I look good in mustard. And so does
everything else.”
This issue appeared as a 16-page supplement to Catholic Digest, which is why the pages are smaller.
Yesterday was the feast of Corpus Christi, which is Latin for “Body of Christ”.
We celebrated the gift of the Eucharist. Although the Eucharist looks like bread and wine, It is really the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ.
Jesus promised He would give us Himself as the bread of life.
I am the living bread which came down from heaven.
If any man eat of this bread, he shall live for ever; and the bread that I will give, is my flesh, for the life of the world.
John 6:51–52 (DRC)
At the Last Supper, He kept this promise.
This picture is from an old illuminated manuscript, the Codex Bruchsal. On the top, we see Jesus raising the chalice. He is consecrating the wine, as the priest does today at Mass.
And whilst they were eating, Jesus took bread; and blessing, broke, and gave to them, and said: Take ye. This is my body.
And having taken the chalice, giving thanks, he gave it to them. And they all drank of it.
And he said to them: This is my blood of the new testament, which shall be shed for many.
Mark 14:22–24 (DRC)
On the bottom, we see what happened after the supper: Jesus washed the feet of His disciples.
Then after he had washed their feet, and taken his garments, being set down again, he said to them: Know you what I have done to you?
You call me Master, and Lord; and you say well, for so I am.
If then I being your Lord and Master, have washed your feet; you also ought to wash one another’s feet.
For I have given you an example, that as I have done to you, so you do also.
Amen, amen I say to you: The servant is not greater than his lord; neither is the apostle greater than he that sent him.
If you know these things, you shall be blessed if you do them.
John 13:12–17 (DRC)
A Man and his son were once going with their Donkey to market. As they were walking along by its side a countryman passed them and said: “You fools, what is a Donkey for but to ride upon?”
So the Man put the Boy on the Donkey and they went on their way. But soon they passed a group of men, one of whom said: “See that lazy youngster, he lets his father walk while he rides.”
So the Man ordered his Boy to get off, and got on himself. But they hadn’t gone far when they passed two women, one of whom said to the other: “Shame on that lazy lout to let his poor little son trudge along.”
Well, the Man didn’t know what to do, but at last he took his Boy up before him on the Donkey. By this time they had come to the town, and the passers-by began to jeer and point at them. The Man stopped and asked what they were scoffing at. The men said: “Aren’t you ashamed of yourself for overloading that poor donkey of yours and your hulking son?”
The Man and Boy got off and tried to think what to do. They thought and they thought, till at last they cut down a pole, tied the donkey’s feet to it, and raised the pole and the donkey to their shoulders. They went along amid the laughter of all who met them till they came to Market Bridge, when the Donkey, getting one of his feet loose, kicked out and caused the Boy to drop his end of the pole. In the struggle the Donkey fell over the bridge, and his fore-feet being tied together he was drowned.
“That will teach you,” said an old man who had followed them:
“Please all, and you will please none.”
