From: richarra@gmail.com   
      
   Thou art a house of refuge unto me   
      
   As birds have their nest where to retire, and deer their brakes and   
   thickets to which to resort, either to enjoy the cool shade in the   
   heat of summer, or to protect and defend themselves, so ought we to   
   choose some place every day, either on Mount Calvary or in the Wounds   
   of Our Lord, or nigh unto Him, whither to retreat on all occasions,   
   there to refresh and recreate, or else to defend ourselves, as in a   
   stronghold, against temptation. Happy the soul that can truly say to   
   Our Lord: "Thou art a house of refuge unto me; my protection from   
   thorns, and my shadow from the heat.   
   --St. Francis of Sales   
      
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   January 30th – St. Bathild, OSB, Queen, Widow   
   (Also known as Bathildis, Baldechilde, Baldhild, Bauteur)   
   d. 680   
      
   Bathild, like Saint Patrick, had been a slave. An Anglo-Saxon by   
   birth, in 641 she was captured by Danish raiders and sold to   
   Erchinoald, the chief officer (mayor) of the palace of Clovis II, King   
   of the Franks. She quickly gained favor, for she had charm, beauty,   
   and a graceful and gentle nature. She also won the affection of her   
   fellow-servants, for she would do them many kindnesses such as   
   cleaning their shoes and mending their clothes, and her bright and   
   attractive disposition endeared her to them all.   
      
   The officer, impressed by her fine qualities, wished to make her his   
   wife, but Bathild, alarmed at the prospect, both by reason of her   
   modesty and of her humble status, disguised herself in old and ragged   
   clothes, and hid herself away among the lower servants of the palace;   
   and he, not finding her in her usual place, and thinking she had fled,   
   married another woman.   
      
   Her next suitor, however, was none other than the king himself, for   
   when she had discarded her old clothes and appeared again in her   
   place, he noticed her grace and beauty, and declared his love for her.   
   Thus in 649, the 19-year-old slave girl Bathild became Queen of   
   France, amidst the applause of the court and the kingdom. She bore   
   Clovis three sons: Clotaire III, Childeric II, and Thierry III--all of   
   whom became kings. On the death of Clovis (c. 655- 657), she was   
   appointed regent in the name of her eldest son, who was only five, and   
   ruled capably for eight years with Saint Eligius as her adviser.   
      
   She made a good queen and ruled wisely. Unlike many who rise suddenly   
   to high place and fortune, she never forgot that she had been a slave,   
   and did all within her power to relieve those in captivity. We are   
   told that "Queen Bathild was the holiest and most devout of women; her   
   pious munificence knew no bounds; remembering her own bondage, she set   
   apart vast sums for the redemption of captives." Bathild helped   
   promote Christianity by seconding the zeal of Saint Ouen, Saint   
   Leodegardius, and many other bishops.   
      
   At that time the poorer inhabitants of France were often obliged to   
   sell their children as slaves to meet the crushing taxes imposed upon   
   them. Bathild reduced this taxation, forbade the purchase of Christian   
   slaves and the sale of French subjects, and declared that any slave   
   who set foot in France would from that moment be free. Thus, this   
   enlightened women earned the love of her people and was a pioneer in   
   the abolition of slavery.   
      
   She also founded many abbeys, such as Corbie, Saint-Denis, and   
   Chelles, which became civilized settlements in wild and remote areas   
   inhabited only by prowling wolves and other wild beasts. Under her   
   guidance forests and waste land were reclaimed, cornland and pasture   
   took their place, and agriculture flourished. She built hospitals and   
   sold her jewelry to supply the needy. Finally, when Clotaire came of   
   age, she retired to her own royal abbey of Chelles, near Paris, where   
   she served the other nuns with humility and obeyed the abbess like the   
   least of the sisters.   
      
   She died at Chelles before she had reached her 50th birthday. Death   
   touched her with a gentle hand; as she died, she said she saw a ladder   
   reaching from the altar to heaven, and up this she climbed in the   
   company of angels. Her life was written by a contemporary. Chelles   
   convent had many contacts with Anglo-Saxon England, which led to the   
   spread of her cultus to the British Isles. Canonized by Pope Nicholas   
   I;(Attwater, Attwater2, Benedictines, Bentley, Butler, Coulson,   
   Delaney, Farmer, Gill, Husenbeth, White).   
      
      
   Quote of the Day – 30 January   
   ”Let not that man presumes to look for mercy from God, who offends His Holy   
   Mother!”   
   –Saint Louis Marie de Montfort   
      
   Bible Quote   
   To Abraham were the promises made and to his seed. He saith not, And   
   to his seeds, as of many: but as of one, And to thy seed, which is   
   Christ. (Galatians 3:16)   
      
      
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   MARY, GUARDIAN OF THE FLOWERS   
      
   In a garden of souls stands a Lady so fair,   
   She caresses each petal growing weak from despair,   
   Breathes the strength down upon them,   
   Brings the waters of life,   
   Feeds the plants that have weakened   
   From the earth's constant strife.   
   The flowers spread out in colors profuse,   
   Each a bud a fair promise of heavenly use.   
   Tender hands take the bent stalk   
   Grown weak from the flight,   
   From the darkness of soil that has shut out the light.   
   Turned the blossoming petal with soft tender hands,   
   To face up to the Light that shines down from His land   
   Sprinkles stardust to cover the flowers with grace   
   As they grow on the path   
   That leads straight to the place.   
   Where the fairest of Flowers sits next to Her Son,   
   As She welcomes you all   
   From a mission well done!   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)