Take part and pray in Catholic Schools Week, day by day

Remember, this week coming is Catholic Schools Week. Every year we celebrate the great Don John Bosco, the patron saint of the Salesians, on the 31st of January. Sr Catherine has great songs we'll be singing, and we'll be learning how he gave his life to help poor young boys and girls.

His great advice to young people was simple: "Pray when it's time to pray. Study when it's time to study. Play when it's time to play. Show kindness to everyone you meet. But do it all for the love of Jesus."

Here's the schedule for the week:

1. Sunday (30th Jan): Parish Mass to begin the week
2. Monday (31 Jan): Feast of Saint John Bosco
3. Tuesday (1 Feb): Feast of Saint Brigid, a great traditional Irish saint.
4. Wednesday (2 Feb): Grandparents Day in primary schools, including our own. Enjoy a hearty breakfast and a cuppa with other grandparents. (Also: Feast of the Presentation.)
5. Thursday (3 Feb): Feast of Saint Blaise, when we'll be getting our throats blessed for the year.
6. Friday (4 Feb): Celebrating the end of Catholic Schools Week.

There's a lovely fun poem about Brigid, who apparently was hugely generous. Here it is... It seems she drove her family mad!

Saint Bridget was
A problem child.
Although a lass
Demure and mild,
And one who strove
To please her dad,
Saint Bridget drove
The family mad.
For here's the fault in Bridget lay:
She would give everything away.
To any soul
Whose luck was out
She'd give her bowl
Of stirabout;
She'd give her shawl,
Divide her purse
With one or all.
And what was worse,
When she ran out of things to give
She'd borrow from a relative.
Her father's gold,
Her grandsire's dinner,
She'd hand to cold
and hungry sinner;
Give wine, give meat,
No matter whose;
Take from her feet
The very shoes,
And when her shoes had gone to others,
Fetch forth her sister's and her mother's.
She could not quit.
She had to share;
Gave bit by bit
The silverware,
The barnyard geese,
The parlor rug,
Her little
niece's christening mug,
Even her bed to those in want,
And then the mattress of her aunt.
An easy touch
For poor and lowly,
She gave so much
And grew so holy
That when she died
Of years and fame,
The countryside
Put on her name,
And still the Isles of Erin fidget
With generous girls named Bride or Bridget.
Well, one must love her.
Nonetheless,
In thinking of her
Givingness,
There's no denial
She must have been
A sort of trial
Unto her kin.
The moral, too, seems rather quaint.
Who had the patience of a saint,
From evidence presented here?
Saint Bridget? Or her near and dear?
(From "The Giveaway" (from The Love Leters of Phyllis McGinley, New York, Viking Press, 1957))