The bow is raised,
The fingers poised.
As the first strains of the guitar soar,
The violin strings quiver
As the bow dances madly across the strings.

The night is filled with the sound of
A Gypsy Violin.

The sound grows, faster, louder,
Fingers flying, dancing, leaping.
The music fades leaving only a memory
Until the last chord sounds,
A breathtaking moment.

Ah, yes. The fateful day dawned. The first thing I did upon coming downstairs was to lift the pan off the Turkish Delight and peek at it. It looked just like it had the day before, but I wasn’t to be daunted. It seemed an unbelievably long time until 2:30. I checked the clock(s) continually. And then, finally, twenty-four hours had passed. I raced into the kitchen, and pulled the pan off. Lifting the blue plastic dish, I gently tilted it toward the light. And . . . the Turkish Delight slid.

Turkish Delight: An Episode in the Culinary Life of Aisling Maloney

Dark and dreary,
Quite contrary
To laughter, oceans, tallest trees,

Winding staircase of my soul,
I use this picture to appease.

Once upon a midnight haunting,
Tears that soothe me fast asleep,
Once upon the voice of my demon,
"Death, destruction is endless peace."

So here I stand, a lonely man,
With nothing;
But my dreams in hand.
And I see you are growing and blossoming so;
Yet here I am just trying to grow.
I don't ask for much,
A little leaf here and there.
And it's so lonely, in this desert of mine.
I need You more than ever before;
Come Lord, I cry out to You
Hear my prayer, My Father, send the storm.
I will take the trouble;
As long as there is rain in the end....
so I can grow
Lord, I need you more than ever before, because,
Here I am a lonely man,

So here I stand, a lonely man,
With nothing;
But my dreams in hand.
And I see you are growing and blossoming so;
Yet here I am just trying to grow.
I don't ask for much,
A little leaf here and there.
And it's so lonely, in this desert of mine.
I need You more than ever before;
Come Lord, I cry out to You
Hear my prayer, My Father, send the storm.
I will take the trouble;
As long as there is rain in the end....
so I can grow
Lord, I need you more than ever before, because,
Here I am a lonely man,

From the glowing candles to the golden crèche, the old stone church, Immaculate Conception was beautifully adorned for Christmas mass. The church, in itself, is a work of art. There is a towering ceiling adorned with a massive, shining mosaic. Looking at the gigantic stone statues of Peter and Patrick, Joseph, Mary, and Christ, and the Altar adorned by a stone canopy crowned with angels, one’s mind is captivated to say the least. A church built in such glory is nothing short of a microcosm of Heaven and Salvation history.

“Ivy Street. It’s on Ivy Street.” Katrin Lewis repeated these words over and over to herself as she navigated through downtown Philadelphia. “Ivy Street.” The words made her shiver every time she thought of them. The name implied a quiet, pretty street, probably in the upper class part of town. Yet Katrin knew that Ivy Street was probably a dark an secluded alley lined with abandoned warehouses in the ghetto of Philadelphia. It was exactly the kind of street they would send her too.

The church was dark and quiet; only the red sanctuary lamp burned, announcing to everyone the Presence of the King of Kings and Lord of Lords. The strong smell of incense still pervaded the interior and the old lady who stood in the shadows by the very back pews sniffed deeply, savoring the comforting and familiar smell.

Midnight Mass was over, and the triumphant procession, with the Infant Jesus carried in the loving arms of a small altar boy, then tenderly placed in the crib, Mary and Joseph kneeling by in homage.

Norah groaned as she rolled over and turned off her beeping alarm clock. She pulled the covers over her head, only to be disturbed again only moments later.

“Norah! Are we going to hit those yard sales or not?”

“It’s morning already?” the teenager said sleepily.

“Yes. Are you coming with me?”

Norah sighed. “I suppose...”

“You can sleep if you want.”

“No, I’ll come, as long as you give me time to get ready.”