Blessings of the Week - vol. 6

Another quick and busy week is done. Here's this week's round-up of blessings:

-1-

A successful experiment. DH and I have been having a little fun with an experiment for the past 11 days. It's done a lot to keep us both connected to one another, and has added an element of fun to our evenings. And I've been laughing a lot more.

I don't know how long we can keep this experiment up, but I'm enjoying the blessing of it while it lasts.

-2-

Our Kid-Free Weekend. This is our first kid-free weekend in just about 3 months. The last time DH and I were flying solo was the first weekend in March. It is such a HUGE blessing to have this time with just him... to reconnect, to relax, and to refocus our energies rightly. And a HUGE blessing to have such good friends, knowing the kids are safe and having fun with their friends at the same time!

-3-

My mom. My mother and I have a complicated relationship (is there any daughter alive who can't relate to that sentence?). This week, she asked to be a part of a retreat weekend that I am running this fall. She went so far as to book her plane tickets already. I am touched beyond words that she wants to be involved, that she trusts me enough to be one of my retreatants. There's a lot more there, layers and layers, but mostly, at this point, just deep gratitude for the opportunity to share this experience with her.

T-Rex and Trust: Lessons from the Science Center

Yesterday, I took the kids to the Science Center. Before we left the house, Princess started hounding me about going to see the dinosaurs. Our science center has two huge, animatronic dinosaurs: a growling, fierce T-Rex, and an injured and labored-breathing Triceratops. Princess has a love/fear relationship with these dinos. She loves to see them, and is simultaneously terrified of them. Even though we've repeatedly talked about how they are not real, she loves to be scared by them.

As soon as we arrived at the science center, Princess ramped up the hounding. "When are we going to the dinosaurs? Mama, can we go now, please!"

We headed over to the dinosaurs, and as soon as they came into view, Princess shrunk back in fear. She hid behind me, clinging to my hand as tightly as she could. We had to walk past them to get to the fossil room that they all wanted to go to, but she was scared. I got down to her level, looked her in the eye, reminded her they weren't real, and then told her to hold my hand and close her eyes. I would lead her safely past them, and would tell her when it was safe to open her eyes again. She did.

As I guided her past the dinos, I thought about the depth of trust she had in me. She believed that I would keep her safe, that I would ensure she didn't trip or bump into anyone. She just closed her eyes, held my hand, and walked.

I look at my five-year-old daughter, and am awed by the lessons she is teaching me. She trusts me because she knows me and loves me. In her five years of life, she has learned, in lots of little ways, that I can be trusted.

Why can't I do the same? Why can't I trust God with the same simple, open faith that my daughter places in me? I have been shown over and over the depth of God's love. In lots of little (and big!) ways, He has shown me that He can be trusted.

And yet, again and again, I refuse to close my eyes and hold His hand. I insist on leading the way. I insist on setting the course. I pull out the map, point out a path, and say, "Here... this is where we will go today."

Princess knows what she wants. She wants to see the dinosaurs. Sometimes, getting what she wants is scary. When the fear starts to overwhelm, she doesn't run away. She stops, looks to me to keep her safe, closes her eyes and plugs on.

Heavenly Father, please help me, today and every day, especially when I am paralyzed by fear, to stop, look to you to keep me safe, hold your hand, and plug on.

Cardinal Lessons

There are two cardinals that live in the Lady Cigar tree in our neighbor's yard, one male and one female.

The kids have learned to identify their distinctive chirp. Even when we are hiking in the woods, they can point out the cardinals by their song.

I love to watch them fly about, settle on the fencepost, the deck, the edge of the pool. They are majestic, beautiful, striking... especially the male, with his bold red color.

I appreciate the confidence inherent in their feathers. They do not attempt to blend in, to hide themselves amidst the browns of the tree limbs. No, not the cardinals. These birds stand out. Their feathers brightly exclaim: "Here I am. I'm not afraid. Do you see how I stand out in the crowd?"

What lessons I can learn from these cardinals. I can learn to move freely in my skin, not to hide or try to change who I am. I can learn to stand firm when I stand out... especially when living this life means flying in the face of conventional society (through homeschooling, living our faith, etc). I can learn that there is grace and beauty in being who I am, just as God made me, that I don't need to make excuses as long as I am living this life through Him, with Him, and in Him.

I can learn that there is dignity in just being me.

image source

Bittersweet Mornings

This week is the last week I get to attend daily mass at my parish for the summer. Starting on Monday, we move to the summer schedule: one daily mass at 7:30 am. The timing of this mass doesn't work for me at all. It's too late for me to go alone, since DH needs to be in his office by 8am. And it's just a little too early to be able to get the kids up, dressed, fed and out the door.

So, starting Monday, I will be attending the 6:30 mass at a neighboring parish.

Now, I know that I am incredibly blessed to live in an area with multiple Catholic parishes within a few miles. But it is still hard to leave my morning community. Because, while I know that the mass is the mass, and Jesus is as fully present down the street as He is in my home parish, I will miss the kinship of this group.

We are more than just two dozen or so individuals gathering to worship the Lord. We are connected. We greet each other by name. We pray for each other's intentions. We offer hugs and support, friendship and small talk in the parking lot after mass.

Starting our day together, praying together and for each other, little by little, day by day, we have intertwined our lives. Our prayers include sons-in-law out of work, friends with cancer, parents placed in hospice, new babies, students graduating, young adults marrying, couples reaching milestone anniversaries. The very ordinary action of coming together every morning -- in the cold dark of winter, in the ice, in the rain, in the brightening skies of early spring -- has cemented us to one another. Just as water slowly carves paths in rock, drop by drop, so we have come together, connected to one another, prayer by prayer.

Mass, this week, has been bittersweet. I am soaking it all in: enjoying Father's homilies more than usual, watching Deacon prepare the altar for the Eucharistic feast with my full attention, praying for this community more fervently. I've been hanging out in the parking lot for a few extra minutes of small talk.

I know the summer will go quickly. It always does, with long, lazy days in the pool, sucking down popsicles, and warm, sticky evenings listening to the buzzing of the cicadas. Before I know it, we will have reached the end of August, and my 6:30 mass will have been restored. My community will still be there, waiting for me, welcoming me back home once again.

And until then, they will remain in my prayers and in my heart.

Blessings of the Week - Vol. 5

The Memorial Day Weekend version

-1-

Spiritual Direction... Father and I met on Monday night. This time with him every month is an incredible blessing to me. I get at least as much from the time I spend preparing for our meetings and processing through what we've discussed as I do from the hour we spend together.

This week, we got into a discussion that sparked a late night conversation with DH, some really good prayer, and the purchase of some books that are opening me up in ways I've never been before.

-2-

School is done for the year! This is an INCREDIBLE blessing. I was really feeling burned out, and it's just wonderful to be able to relax, focus on enjoying the kids, spending our days doing all sorts of fun (and educational!) activities. This week, we've been bike riding, strawberry picking, to the zoo, to the children's museum, and had playdates with friends. I've been so relaxed the entire time.

Of course, just because the book work is done doesn't mean we stop learning. Princess and BigBro will both be reading for the library's summer reading program. We have camps, art projects, science experiments, and lots and lots of swimming in our future. But it sure does feel good to be done with books, lesson plans, and counting hours... at least for now.

-3-

My Parish Community. I love my parish. I am always reminded of what a blessing this community is during t-ball season. This past Wednesday night, we had our first t-ball games of the season. Four fields of teams playing for 2 hours. Our kids are able to run freely, back and forth from one game to another, to the playground, to the open space. We know they are safe, watched over. We wander from field to field, cheering on each other's kids, chatting, catching up.

We are so blessed to be part of this community. Our parish is a good mix of senior citizens, older adults, and families. Due to hard work on the part of our Pastor and our school Principal, the family base has been growing these past few years. It's easy to see their successes when you have over 100 children ages 3-6 playing t-ball.

But more than that, it's the similarity in values. We know each other. We know the kids. We watch out for each other. This is a community in the deepest sense of the word. We are connected to one another, and we do the work necessary to stay connected.

There's nothing like a perfect spring evening, on a freshly mown field, surrounded by friends and their giddy children, all running and laughing, to know that you are in the presence of the Divine.

*****

In what ways have you noticed His presence this week?

The First At-Bats of the Season

We have three ball players in the family this spring. Here are the first at-bats for each of them:



BigBro (Sat. May 16, 2009):





Princess (Wed. May 20, 2009):





LilBro (Wed. May 20, 2009):



DH is getting ready to handle all those scouting calls from the Major League agents!

As Promised... the Dance Recitals

Here are the dance recitals from last Saturday afternoon.

LilBro's Tiny Tots class:



Princess' Pre-Ballet class (she's the tiny one with the short hair, third from the right):

Learning to Put My Oxygen Mask on First

A little over a year ago, Princess and I took a plane trip to Baltimore for the weekend, to help my friend with the birth of her first child. Raising a family of 5 on a single income means that we travel by car, not plane. This was a rare and special event... for both of us. Princess was one of the only children on the flight, and she got some special attention from the flight attendants. I also got some special attention. The flight attendants both stopped by our row just before takeoff, ensuring that I had understood the instructions to don my own oxygen mask before helping Princess, in the event of an emergency.

This advice is contrary to how I live my life as a mother, most of the time. The kids come first. Then DH, homeschooling, the house, the bills, the carpooling, my parish responsibilities, social commitments, and so on. Somewhere on that list is me... usually in pencil, crossed-off a few times, jotted in again at the bottom.

But the reality is... this way of living just does not work. I can't make it as a wife and mother if I am continually on the bottom of my list.

Last fall, in confession, my Pastor laid that out for me plainly. "I admire that you are a stay-at-home mom, that you homeschool, that you are so committed to your family. But you need to get away. You need time to yourself. Regularly. At least every 5-6 weeks, if not more often."

I argued with him. Right there in the Sacrament, I told him that what he was suggesting was impossible. There was no way I could take off as frequently as he suggested. Getting away for a night or two once a year would have to suffice. He disagreed... and assigned me the penance of sitting down with DH and our calendar, and finding the time away that I needed.

That was six months ago. I have taken his words to heart, and to DH, often. My friend and I were able to work out a childcare trade that gives me 3.5 hours to myself every other week, which is wonderful. But the actually getting away thing? That happened once in November and once in February. It was deeply refreshing both times, but a strain on our budget.

Then Father told me about the Hermitage. Suddenly, I had an accessible and affordable way to get away. Suddenly, it seemed possible to look at my calendar and schedule a break once every six weeks. For the first time, I could consider going away when I wasn't crazy, when I wasn't on the brink of breaking, when it wouldn't take at least a day to find myself again. What would that be like? Imagine.

Early last week, when I realized it had been just over a month since my visit to the Hermitage, I opened the calendar, looking for the empty space for me to get away. There was none for at least 6 more weeks... except, possibly, this past weekend, for slightly less than 24 hours. I talked to DH. He was fine with it. I called Larry. He had space for me.

Then I wavered. I didn't really need to go away. I wasn't feeling particularly stressed or tired or worn out. In fact, I was feeling, more or less, fine. So, maybe I didn't need to go away. Maybe I should just call Larry and cancel my reservation.

And then I remembered Pastor's words. I remembered how forceful he was. Pastor is never forceful. He is tender, gentle, encouraging. For him to have been forceful meant something to me. I thought, again: what would it be like to go away when I wasn't crazy?

I thought about those flight attendants. They are masters of pre-emptive measures. They go over those safety rules on every flight... not just the ones that are experiencing emergency situations. I thought about how not just one, but both, of the flight attendants reminded me to take care of myself first. I am of no use to Princess if I pass out from lack of oxygen. And the time to put on the mask is before I am struggling to breathe.

I am no use to my family when I am crazy, when I am stressed and worn out to the point that my voice is permanently set on "screech." I have a very strong need for silence and space. When I take the Myers-Briggs Personality Type Indicator, I always, always end up as a very strong "I." Not because I am not outgoing and social, but because I require solitude to be renewed and refreshed.

So, I kept the reservation. I went away for the night. I wasn't stressed when I left, and the effect of that was immediately noticeable to me. I was able to go from calm to deeply relaxed very quickly, and found that even a very short getaway can be incredibly effective. I came home filled with a deep peace that even two difficult nights with little sleep haven't been able to penetrate.

But there is another benefit, too. One that I was not expecting, nor had I intended it. Yesterday evening, Princess asked me to play paper dolls with her. Her doll was married with three children, and wanted to go out with my doll for the night. While they were partying on the town, her doll told my doll that she goes to the "hermi-dadge" sometimes so that she can be a happy mom to her kids.

I glanced over at DH, who was working on the laptop in the same room. Our eyes locked and he smiled. Yes, my time away does make me a happy mom. I'm glad that Princess sees that. How much the better, though, if she is learning this lesson early: imagine, someday, Princess knowing to take care of herself, so that she can be a better mom to her kids. Imagine her not getting caught up in needing to be "supermom."

Imagine if being told to put on her oxygen mask first struck her as silly and obvious, instead of shocking and contrary, as it did to me.

Imagine.

image source

A Little of This... A Little of That

My thoughts aren't together for any sort of formal post right now, but I still feel the urge to get something down. So, here goes:

• We are done with first grade!!!! LilBro had me up in the middle of the night last night, and I started thinking about how I am really dragging this year out, when I just want to be at the zoo, biking on the trail, and otherwise enjoying the spring with my kids. So, this morning, I went back over the planner and BigBro's books. He tested out of spelling and math, finished his geography and religion books, and I shelved cursive until August. We celebrated with leftover birthday cake and a bike ride on the trail. WHOO-HOO!!!! Summer break is here!!!!!!!!!!!

  
  

• Speaking of breaks, what fun we have scheduled for the rest of this week: strawberry picking tomorrow, the children's museum on Thursday (after three well-child visits at the pediatrician... I may need the bribe!), the zoo on Friday morning. This weekend, DH and I will put together the playhouse that Santa dropped off all the way back in December. And next weekend, we'll start getting the pool ready for the summer season.

  
  

• We have a busy summer planned already... the kids have a week of camp (whoo-hoo... time off for me!) in mid-June, BigBro has a cub scout fishing camp the following week, then all three are in Bible camp in mid-July. After that, we will travel to NC to visit my parents for a week. By the time we get settled back in here, it will be August, and I'll be getting ready to pull the books off the shelves again and start the new year. Even with all that's scheduled, though, we will have lots and lots of lazy days in the pool, with popsicles and friends.

  
  

• I booked two nights at the Hermitage in the beginning of July. Last night, DH and I were talking about how good that time away is for me. I pulled out the calendar, we picked dates for my next get-away, and I shot an email to Larry. This morning, I had a confirmation email promising my favorite Hermitage on the dates I needed. Something peaceful to look forward to... just about six weeks from now.

  
  

• Speaking of "good for me" things, Father and I met for spiritual direction last night. A very "good for me" thing. And always, always the spark of really meaningful conversations with DH.

  
  

• Popsicle season is here. My kids are outside right now, hanging on the swingset, eating their first popsicles of the season. I'd been corralled into buying some last week in the grocery store, and had promptly forgotten about them until 10 minutes ago. Three very happy, slightly sticky smiles are pointing my way as I sit here and write.

  
  

Well, that's about it for now. Time to get dinner started and BigBro off to baseball practice.

Sneaking Away Once Again

This weekend was BUSY! DH's Ballpark Basement Opening Day started off our weekend with a fun, late Friday night full of friends, food, and fun (even if the game was rained out!)



Saturday morning, BigBro finally got to play in his first baseball game of the season.

We went directly from there to Princess' and LilBro's Dance Recital. (Videos to follow... uploading is a tedious process).

When all of that activity was done, about 2:30pm, I packed up a small bag with a change of clothes, a few books, my Bible, and my laptop, and snuck down to the Hermitage in Pevely, MO.
Arriving just after 3pm, I was welcomed back with a warm hug from Larry Ponder, the Hermitage Director. After showing me to the recently renovated "Beautiful Earth" hermitage, he graciously gave me a full tour of the five other Hermitages I had not seen on my previous visit. We chatted for a few minutes, and then he left me to bask in the peace, the beauty, the walking trails, and the gurgling river.

In April, when I stayed in "Glimpse of Glory," I had a full view of the Mississippi River. "Beautiful Earth" is tucked on the side of the hill, facing into the forest. The sunlight danced and dappled over the leaves of the trees, tracing ever-changing patterns on the small front porch of the hermitage. I opened the windows, turned on the ceiling fan, and curled up in the Lazy-Boy rocker.

Taking a deep breath, I offered up a small prayer of thanksgiving. I listened. I could hear cardinals calling to one another. Other birds responding. Rustling of the leaves. Gurgling of the river. And deep, deep silence. Silence so full that it appears to have an actual, physical presence. I breathed again, slower this time.

My visit this weekend was short, less than 24 hours. But it was deeply refreshing all the same. In 21 hours, I had time to walk, to pray, to sleep, to finish a novel, to start prep work for a retreat weekend, to work through some internal demons with God, to rest, to meditate, to listen to music, to just be... me.

Sunday morning, after a nice long walk, I crawled down the steep embankment to the edge of the Mississippi. The water level was much higher than it had been last month. I crept through the woods, over and under branches, until I found a large, smooth fallen tree trunk, nestled under shady leaves. There I sat, for nearly an hour, still, present, in His Presence.

Reluctantly, I peeled myself away from that trunk and climbed back up the hill to the Hermitages. As much as I wanted to stay right there, in that place of peace, real life was calling me back... we had First Communions to witness on Sunday afternoon.

I packed up my things, fixed up my Hermitage, and made my way up to the parking lot. Larry and I chatted for a few minutes, and then, with one more hug and a promise to be back again soon, I drove down the long, gravel drive back to the main road and my regular life.

But I carried with me the peace of the Hermitages, of my time with nature, with God, with the Silence.

Blessings of the Week - vol. 4

This week was a busy one... flew by in a flash. Here are the blessings that stood out:

-1-

Our school year is almost done!!!! I sat down with BigBro's books on Monday morning, and made a master list of the material we need to cover before I can close the book (so to speak) on first grade. Then, I laid it all out in his planner... we have about 3 weeks left, with an ever-diminishing workload each week. Whoo-hoo! I know that I, for one, am looking forward to summer vacation! What a blessing it is to see the end in sight!

-2-

The Ballpark Basement is DONE! As in finished. Complete. Finito.

For five months, I have been a "basement widow"... and I've really missed my quiet evenings on the couch with DH. Can't wait to snuggle up against him next week and catch up on the shows that the DVR has been storing for us!

-3-

Celebrating DH's birthday and new man-cave with our friends. We had such a blast last night! DH showed off his new pad, we all had a chance to hang out and catch up with folks we haven't seen in a while (or have only seen in passing!). It reminds me once again of how rich we are, to have such a wonderful group of friends for us and our kids.

*****

And you? How has God blessed you this week?

Overheard

Scene: I am decorating DH's birthday cake in the kitchen. BigBro is working on a math page in the adjoining family room. LilBro is playing with cars in the entryway between the kitchen and family room.

BigBro: Hey, LilBro, how many times does 8 go into 51?

LilBro: Ummm.... [thoughtful pause] Six?

I drop the decorating bag, walk around the corner and look at BigBro. He shrugs his shoulders at me, while looking at LilBro with nothing short of amazement on his face.

BigBro and Mom, simultaneously: LilBro, that's right! Great job!

Mom (to self): Could my three year old actually be doing division in his head?

BigBro: Hey, LilBro, how many times does 8 go into 30?

LilBro (with confidence): Ten.

Mom (to self): Phew!

The Basement With Its Own Logo

For as long as I've known my husband (for the record, eleven years), he has been collecting stadium seats, and has dreamed of a finished basement designed to showcase his collection.

For the past nine years, we've lived in this 1931 all-brick Dutch Colonial, with a gross, unfinished, leaky basement. We've done all sorts of improvements to this house, including adding on an 800 sq. ft., 2-story addition four years ago. But there never seemed to be the extra money or time to invest in waterproofing the basement and finishing it off to showcase DH's collection.

Last year, we faced a neighborhood buyout from a major retailer, causing us to set all home improvement projects on the back burner. No point in improving something that is going to be torn down. When the economy went south last fall, so did the buyout offer.

At Christmas this past year, DH approached me again about the basement. He had an idea... a plan. If he let go of the need for a completely waterproofed, professionally-finished basement, could we allocate a little money and some time for him to create a space of his own? We set up an initial budget and he went to work.

For the past five months, he has worked weekends and nights, changing the mostly-dry half of our basement from this:

Into this:

The whole thing has taken a lot more time, cost a lot more money, and taken a lot more of his focus than I had originally expected. DH is creative and hyper-focused. He even designed a custom logo for his "Ballpark Basement." I will admit that I have not been fully supportive of this project. I've been jealous of the time and attention it's gotten. I've been frustrated by his lack of focus and "presence" with us. But despite all of my failings, I've also been really proud of DH.

And I am so very happy that we get to celebrate his birthday tonight by hosting an "Opening Day" party for his new Ballpark Basement. He's got an entire season's schedule of activities planned for his new space, beginning with tonight's ballgame on his new scoreboard television.

Go Cards!

Happy Birthday, DH!

You spent the first 37 years of your life as the apple of this woman's eye. You two share a deep love of baseball, most especially the Cardinals.

Eleven years ago, you slipped into my life and my heart... and I've never been the same.

Thank God for that... for you.

Happy birthday, my wonderful husband!

In Quiet Praise of My Firstborn

BigBro doesn't get a lot of airtime on this blog. Mostly because the littler ones are always saying the "cute" little things that strike me as "blog-able."

But today, BigBro needs some applause.

DH has spent the past five months turning our disgusting, unfinished, eyesore-of-a-basement into his own personal man-cave/indoor stadium. But that's another post altogether. This Friday is DH's birthday, and the grand-opening party for his man-cave/indoor stadium. Which means that this week is filled with all the last-minute details required to get the man-cave completed. And I've been helping him as graciously as I can.

But that leaves the rest of the house quickly falling into utter disarray.

Enter BigBro.

This morning, I explained to all of the kids that I had a list of items to complete in the basement, and I needed their help in cleaning up the ever-growing messes on the main floor of the house. BigBro took the lead in getting the clutter and toys put away, then vacuumed the entire main floor.

After a short break and snack, he is sitting here, working through a page of math. His cat, Racer, stretched out next to him on the rug. BigBro leaned over, scratched Racer's belly, and then told Racer, "I can't scratch you all day. I have to do my school, too. It's not just about you, Racer."

Some days, my smiles just can't get any bigger!

Book Review: Two Books in One

When "Theology of Her Body/Theology of His Body" arrived in my mailbox a few months ago from the Catholic Company's Reviewer Program, I eagerly opened it up. This book by Jason Evert, founder of the Pure Love Club and chastity.com, is really two books in one.

The first side of the book, "Theology of Her Body," is subtitled "Discovering the Beauty and Mystery of Femininity." When I flipped the book over, I found "Theology of His Body: Discovering the Strength and Mission of Masculinity."

Being a woman, always trying to better understand the opposite sex, I opened the "His Body" section first. I had expected a dumbed-down, teen version of John Paul II's teachings. But that is not at all what I got. In direct language, filled with real-life examples, Evert lays out the reasoning behind the Church's teaching on sexuality and relationships, especially marriage and fatherhood.

"...boyfriends will often pat themselves on the back if they say to their
girlfriends, 'I don't want to pressure you to do anything that you're not ready
for.' Implied in this statement, however, is the assumption that they guy
is willing to take all that she will give. He feels like a gentleman
because he is not forcing her to do anything, yet he has become morally and
spiritually limp. His character is passive, and he has no deep convictions
about the value of her soul or his." (p.28)

The "His Body" section continues to challenge teen boys and young men to value themselves, especially the ways in which, as men, they are created in the image and likeness of God. "This is one way we reflect the image and likeness of God in our masculinity; we initiate the gift of life. The woman does not. Rather, she receives it." (p.35) Evert challenges teens to sacrifice themselves, to model themselves after Christ, sacrificing for His Bride, the Church.

Impressed with the down-to-earth explanations of some pretty complicated theology, and the real-life examples, I flipped the book over and started reading the "Her Body" side. Even though I'd been impressed by Evert's take on men's sexuality, I was sceptical about his take on women's. Again, I was pleasantly surprised.

He didn't dumb-it-down, and he wasn't condescending. Instead, Evert writes of the mystery and sacredness of femininity. "Like the Holy of Holies, the image of the locked garden and spring reveal that a woman's body is not unapproachable. Rather, she is opened only to the one who is worthy to enter." (p.7)

Throughout the "Her Body" section, Evert writes of the dignity of women. He describes our sexuality as a mystery to be pursued, to be revealed, to be unveiled and redeemed. He encourages women to embrace their beauty, to accept their bodies as a gift from God. "God created the body of the woman to be a visible sign of the beauty of her femininity.... Therefore, a woman's body should not be deemed impure. She might dress in a way that detracts from her dignity. The thoughts of men about her may be impure. But the body itself is very good." (p.39)

I had not expected a book written for teens to have so much theology in it, such a strong Biblical and Catechetical basis. And certainly, I didn't expect a book with this much theology to be written in such a clear, concise, and easily-accessible way. The real-life examples provided an easy-to-follow model for teens who are navigating the choppy waters of dating, sexuality, parenthood, and responsibility.

I am lending this book to my friend, a priest who teaches at a local Catholic high school. But I want it back when he is done. My kids are a few years away from the teen years, but this is one book that we will all be reading when that time arrives.

I Promise to Love You and Honor You

Last Saturday night, I got married again. In nearly every single way, it was completely different than the first time I got married, nearly 9 years ago. The first time, I was married outside, on a beautiful fall afternoon, at the foot of a lighthouse on the Atlantic coast. This time, I was married in a Catholic Church - my parish, my second home - on a warm spring evening in the midwest.

The first time, I was married in the presence of nearly 100 friends and family, and countless strangers who just happened to be visiting the lighthouse that afternoon. This time, I was married in the presence of 10 dear friends and my beloved Pastor.

The first time, I planned every last detail: the dress, the music, the wording of the vows, the attendants and their attire, the car, the reception, even the attire of the priest (I handmade his stole). This time, I bought a new dress, sent out a few emails, and meant to call Pastor last week to go over the details, but ended up leaving him a message stating that I was "letting go and letting God" and Pastor run the show. (And, for the most part, I succeeded in doing just that).

Despite the differences, there were some striking similarities between these two weddings. First, of course, was DH. He is the same man I promised to love and honor on September 16, 2000. The same man I wake up next to nearly every single morning. The same man I lean over and kiss goodnight after we pray together nearly every single night.

But the most striking similarity came in something completely dissimilar. Pastor used the Catholic Church's wedding vows on Saturday night. Nine years ago, DH and I sat in a spare room in my mother's house and wrote our vows together, four days before the wedding. Those vows are framed and hang above our bed. They are more flowery, more poetic than the Church's straightforward vows. Our original vows are longer and more detailed. They are more romantic, more idealized.

But our intention is exactly the same.

On Saturday night, as I stood facing DH at the foot of the sanctuary steps, having just stood witness to four other couples reciting the same words, the tears flowed freely. I squeezed DH's hands tightly. My eyes did not leave his. When my turn came to promise to love and honor him, all the days of my life, my voice quivered and tears spilled down my cheeks and onto my new dress.

I didn't care. I was fully present - body, mind and soul - in that moment. I meant every syllable and every emotion. My marriage is a blessing unlike any other in my life, including my children. DH is my partner, my best friend, my beacon in the darkness.

I am far from the wife I would like to be. I can be selfish, difficult, emotional, demanding and often moody. I despise cooking and am only a mediocre housekeeper. And despite these faults (and oh, so many others), he loves me. He really does. And I love him. With all that I am and in all that I do.

I suppose that's what it's really all about. None of us is perfect, and most of us, if we were being honest, would say that our spouses deserve a better partner than they got some days. When I held his hands on Saturday night, reciting those precious words, I did so slowly. I really paid attention. I made sure that I really meant each and every word.

I will be true to you.

I promise to love you and honor you.

All the days of my life.

I meant those words when I first said them them nine years ago. But I didn't really understand them. Marriage isn't something that you really understand until you've lived it for awhile. Good times and bad... sickness and health... all the days of my life. Those are phrases that take on a very different meaning after you've lived them.

The good times are easy. Clinging together in the bad times takes work. Holding tight to each other in the face of illnesses, sudden deaths, and heartbreaking sadness... well, those dark nights call for a true beacon. And that final phrase: all the days of my life. The permanence of that. It's not something I knew in my soul the first time around. Oh, I believed that marriage was for life. But I didn't know it.

Now, I know it. I know that we are together forever, no matter what. I know that I can count on him to carry me when I am too weak to stand on my own. I know that he has my back, and my best interests... always. I trust him completely. He is my beacon, my rock, my fortress.

And I will love him, and honor him, all the days of my life.

Feeling Christ in the Pain

I've been going through a bit of a rough time lately. There have been some hurts that have cut me really deeply, so much so that I've felt actual physical pain, a deep, searing wound in my chest shooting down into my heart.

Thursday morning, as I knelt in the chapel before morning mass, tears filled my closed eyes, threatening to spill over and announce my inner pain to my neighbors. I prayed as hard as I could for the pain to be taken away. The pain deepened. I knelt there, fighting the tears, trying to breathe through it all, begging for relief.

I looked up at the crucifix, and like a bolt of lightning, I realized that I'd been praying for the wrong thing. I didn't need to pray for the pain to be healed. Instead, I needed to welcome Christ into my pain. Christ -who knows how hard it is to be human, who knows the pain of hurt and betrayal, who has felt both physical and emotional pain - cannot heal me unless I invite Him to join me in the pain.

I took a deep breath, keeping my eyes on the crucifix, and changed my prayer. Let me feel Your Presence in this pain, Lord, please. Over and over, I repeated that prayer. Mass started and I kept the prayer going, a slow chant just below the surface of my full consciousness. Tears rested on the brim of my eyelids, but never spilled over. I made it through mass, managed a little wave at Father, and closed the door to the minivan just as the tears flowed freely.

Throughout my day, I kept that little prayer close to my heart. When the pain threatened to overwhelm, I returned to it, over and over. Little by little, the stranglehold on my throat lessened. The pain didn't dissipate, but it did lessen. It became something I could live with, manage, survive.

Friday morning, as I knelt in the chapel, gazing at the crucifix, my breathing was much easier. The pain was still there, but so was Christ. I wasn't alone in my pain. The pain couldn't overtake me now. And together, we would find my way toward healing.

Mother's Day - Perfected

This is the eighth time I've celebrated Mother's Day where I was one of the honorees. And this time, we really got it right.

Because we always spend the afternoon/evening of Mother's Day with my eighty-five year old mother-in-law, a few years ago, DH declared that the hours prior to 2pm were to be "all about Mom." We've experimented with different ways to celebrate, but none was ever as perfect as today.

To begin with, we went to mass last night. Now, I am not ordinarily a Saturday-vigil mass person. I prefer Sunday morning mass. But our Marriage and More team renewed our vows last night, and Pastor used the Sunday readings in that private mass, eliminating our need to attend mass this morning.

This morning, when LilBro woke with the sun and climbed into our bed, DH scooped him up and brought him downstairs, so I could sleep a bit longer. I got to wake lazily, reading my kindle, and chatting with my mom on the phone for nearly an hour. Then BigBro and DH made me a delicious breakfast, with all my favorite morning foods. After breakfast, I took a nice long soak in the tub, dozed for a short nap, and then we all got ready to spend the afternoon with my mother-in-law.

My day has been filled with cards, homemade and store-bought, lots of love and kisses, and way more pampering than I'm used to.

Mother's Day... finally perfected!

Mother's Day

May your Mother's Day be filled with Wishes That Come True!

Deep in the Thick of It

Man, we are deep in the thick of t-ball/baseball season around here. This is the very first season that we have three children playing sports simultaneously. That's 3-4 practices and 3 games every single week.

In addition to the rest of our lives.

This morning, I was back-and-forth-and-back-again to the parish. LilBro had practice at 9am. Princess had practice at 10am. After 40 minutes of non-stop giggling on my part, I left LilBro in the capable hands of his coach to run home and get Princess. We got back to the church just in time for Princess' practice to start. LilBro was cold, tired and hungry. I left Princess with her coach, ran LilBro home, picked up BigBro and the present for his 11am birthday party, and the stuff I needed for errands. Back to the parish. Caught the last 10 minutes of Princess' practice. Then I dropped BigBro at the party, Princess and I ran errands. Back home for a quick lunch. Then to help transport the party kids to the bounce-arena for part-2 of the birthday party. More errands. Back home so DH can run an errand or two before I have to go pick up BigBro from the birthday party.

It's a very good thing that we live only 1.5 miles from the parish.

Though, for these baby blues, I'd gladly drive further.

Blessings of the Week - vol.3

Saturday morning is upon us once again. This week was a tough one in so very many ways, but despite that (or because of that?) blessings abounded.

-1-

Priests. Three in particular stand out right now, but I'll offer up that, generally, these men who dedicate their lives to serving God and serving us are a true blessing.

Specifically, for Padre, who looks out for great-Aunt Mary in Albuquerque, bringing her Holy Communion, and checking in on her daily. For welcoming us into his life, sharing his stories, and offering us support and a 6am blessing before our departure last week.

For Pastor, who can always make me smile, who is compassionate and kind, and who so generously agreed to celebrate a private mass for our Marriage and More team tonight, allowing each of us to renew our vows with our spouses, one at a time.

For Father, my friend, my confidante, my confessor, my spiritual director. Thank you, dear God, for Father.

-2-

For my kids. I don't mean this in the general sense that my kids are a blessing, which, of course, they are. But this week, specifically. They helped me get the house cleaned and organized, without complaining. They helped fold and put away more than a dozen loads of laundry, without complaining. They entertained themselves (and didn't destroy the house in the process), so I could take a little nap one day. They have sensed that I've been sad this week (even though I've had smiles for them), and have filled me up with hugs, kisses, and lots of "I love you, Moms."

My kids are good kids. They are. Not that they don't have their moments (as we all do), but generally, they are kind, loving and (mostly) obedient. But this week, they've stepped up to the plate and hit one out of the park ... over and over and over. Thank you, God, for my three amazing blessings, and all they've taught me this week about joy and resiliency.

-3-

Renewing my vows. Especially this week. Especially this spring. Especially with Pastor and in the presence of my Marriage and More team. DH is an absolute gift to me. Every single day, I praise God for sending the perfect partner for me. But this week, really these past few months, I've had to rely on him more than ever. And he's been there for me. I mean, really been there for me.

So, while I would marry him again anytime, it is a huge blessing that I get to marry him again tonight. I can't wait to hold his hands, look into his eyes, and promise to love, honor and cherish him every moment of every day, for the rest of my life.

*****

Where has God blessed you this week?

My Other Spiritual Director

I am very blessed to have Father as my Spiritual Director. He is kind, compassionate, devout, intelligent, and wise in so many ways. He knows when to be gentle with me, and when I need a little kick in the pants. It's not easy to find a Spiritual Director, especially one that is such a good fit. So, I know that I am blessed to have Father in my life.

But he is not my only Spiritual Director. Perhaps because God knows that I can be stubborn and hard-headed. Perhaps because God knows that I am often quick-to-anger and hard-hearted. Perhaps because God knows I need a lot more guidance, on a daily basis, than Father can give me in a once-a-month meeting.


Whatever the reason, God has blessed me with a second Spiritual Director... one who lives with me, loves me unconditionally, and (at least for now) loves to be with me as much as she can. My other Spiritual Director is my five year old daughter, Princess.


Princess has the most real relationship with Jesus I have ever seen. Jesus is her friend. Not in an abstract way, or a Hallmark-card way, or even a Sunday-school-Jesus-loves-me way. No. He is real. She talks to him all the time, sharing her little joys, sorrows, worries. She asks him questions, sings him songs, and goes about her day with Jesus as one of her constant companions.


When we were at the Giant Cross in Groom, TX, I watched Princess from a distance. She was in the midst of the most animated conversation with a statue of Jesus. I tried to capture the moment, without disturbing it. I was fascinated. What was she saying? Was he responding?

As I approached them, she looked up and came running over to me. "Mama, look, Jesus is crying." I walked up to the statue. Next to it stood a marker offering prayers for victims of abortion. Jesus was kneeling in bronze, crying, holding a tiny fetus in his right hand. "Why is he crying, Mama?"

I watched her walk around the back of the statue, wrap her arms around Jesus and kiss his cheek. "Don't cry, Jesus. It's ok. I love you."

She looked up at me again. "Mama, why is Jesus crying?"

I paused. Then I pointed to the fetus. "See that baby? Well, Jesus loves all of the babies, especially the really tiny ones. And he wants us to love all of the babies... especially the really tiny ones."

"Well, I love babies, Mama. It's ok, Jesus. I'll love the babies for you." She leaned over, kissed him one more time, and then skipped off.

I watched her run off toward her brothers. This is what it means to have a child-like faith. Not a childish faith; a child-like faith. Pure, complete trust that God exists, that He loves, that He is present, and that we are precious to Him.

A few weeks ago, when we were at the wake for my mother-in-law's friend, Princess wanted a prayer card. It had the "Footprints" poem on the back, and I read it to her, explaining as I went. The next morning, Princess broke down at the end of the funeral mass, as they led the coffin out of the church. I sat in the pew and held her on my lap, crying softly with her, wanting to take her pain away. She looked up at me, eyes glistening, and whispered, "Mama, is Jesus carrying me right now?" I nodded, choking back a sob. "Good. Because this is a hard day, Mama."

When LilBro was born, more than a few nurses made the comment that Princess was my "rose between two thorns." At the time, I was more insulted that my sons were referred to as thorns than appreciative of Princess being called out as something special. But again and again in the past five years, she has been my teacher, my guide. Especially in matters of the heart, and matters of faith.

I don't know if I will ever be able to approach God with the certainty and trust that Princess does, but if she will keep on teaching me, I may just get there some day.

Five Words I Never Thought I'd Hear

"I can't wait til bedtime!"

Princess spent most of this afternoon alternating between singing and screaming those words. Never thought I would see the day. Truly.

She is a very early reader. Meaning, she can get through a phonics-based reader at a snail's pace. Some days, she is eager to read. Lately, she hasn't been, so I've let it all drop. I remember this stage with BigBro... not unlike physical growth spurts, kids go through mental/academic growth spurts.


This afternoon, I was folding some laundry and Princess came to me with a very serious expression on her face. We'd unearthed some of her phonics readers in a spring-cleaning session this morning, and she held one of them in her hand.


"Mom, now that I'm reading, shouldn't I have some reading time before bed, like BigBro does?"


That only seemed fair. So we worked out the details (fifteen minutes in the guest room after her official "bedtime." BigBro usually goes upstairs at that time to read, so he will let her know when she is done with reading time and needs to go to bed).


Oh, the excitement! The joy. My daughter danced around my bedroom, hugging a book to her chest, singing, "I love reading. It's so great to be reading."


She loves to read phonics readers. Man... I can't wait til she gets to meet Anne Shirley!

Highlights from the Southwest

We had a great time in the Southwest last week. I wrote here and here about our trip to New Mexico. Here are some of the things we did while we were there:


Monday we went to the Pueblo Indian Cultural Center in downtown Albuquerque. Here, we saw a fascinating movie showing how black-on-black pottery was made... from digging red clay and blue sand in the desert all the way through the firing process, using cow chips and horse manure. All four kids were mesmerized. They asked to make pots when we got home. I agreed... but with air-drying clay, as the manure firing process seems a bit stinky for my tastes.


Then we headed into Old Town Albuquerque for some sight-seeing and souvenir shopping.

Tuesday morning, my cousin took us on a tour of the pueblo on the Isleta Reservation. We got out and explored a crumbling adobe-style house. We were able to see the structure, design and architecture. The teacher in me couldn't resist the opportunity!

Wednesday we headed about an hour north into Santa Fe, to visit with my friend (and acclaimed sculptor) Carrie Quade.

She gave us a tour of downtown Santa Fe, a foundary/sculpture garden, and some of Santa Fe's finest food. We had a wonderful day, catching up and seeing the sights... even a bunch of prairie dogs in the middle of Jackalope (an art/furniture store conglomerate).

Thursday morning, the kids played with Aunt Mary... got to scare her with the stuffed rattlesnakes they got on Monday morning!

In the afternoon, we explored Petroglyph National Park, climbing volcanic rock in a desert canyon to discover ancient Petroglyphs (or "rock drawings").

Way cool... even in the desert heat!

Before bed on Thursday night, we made sure to get a group picture!

From left: Aunt Mary, Billy, LilBro, BigBro, me, Padre, and Princess

Friday evening, as we stopped at the halfway point in Oklahoma City, the kids got a little adventurous in their eating. BigBro tried a baby octopus.

Princess ate some sushi.
LilBro declared that neither were to his liking... but the ice cream was!

It was a full, educational, friend-and-family-filled week. We are blessed to have had the time with my great-Aunt, and to have explored so much of Albuquerque and Santa Fe. I know that I am already looking forward to my next visit!

Why We Drive... Or What You Miss at 35,000 Feet

We drive on nearly all of our family vacations/trips. Our kids, from birth, are used to long trips. My parents live about 1,000 miles from us, and we visit them once or twice a year. When we had just BigBro, we used to fly about half the time. But these days, between the costs of airfare for a family of 5, the hassle and indignities of airport security, and the stress of being on someone else's schedule... well, thank you very much, we'd just as soon drive.


This trip to Albuquerque was about 1,100 miles for us. We broke in into two days each way, and added some stops for fun. On the way there, we stopped in Oklahoma City to see the Bombing Memorial.


The next day, as we were driving through the panhandle of Texas, about 40 miles east of Amarillo, we saw signs for the "Largest Cross in the Western Hemisphere." We had to stop. I was expecting some hokey, South-of-the-Border-(via I-95 in NC/SC)-style place, and I was not about to miss it. The hand-painted billboard promised "a spiritual experience you will never forget." Boy, were they right.


The cross was huge, and if that were it alone, the stop would not have been worth it.

When we tumbled out of the car, the kids ran over to the bronze sculpture of the Last Supper. They especially loved the details... Judas with his hand in a bowl of coins, the expressions on the disciples faces, the fact that it was life-sized and they could run up to touch/feel/experience it.

The Cross was surrounded in a circle by life-sized bronze sculptures depicting each of the 14 stations of the cross.

The 15th station had a marker and an arrow... and had us heading around the corner to a tomb with the stone rolled aside, an empty slab, and an angel praying.

Next to the tomb was a small building with a replica of the shroud of Turin.

In the main building, where there was a large gift shop and clean restrooms (a must for travelers!), resided a beautiful Divine Mercy Fountain.

On our way back to the parking lot, we passed sculptures of the Ten Commandments, the Beatitudes, and an emotional Jesus statue caressing a fetus. Princess was especially taken with this sculpture, but that is another post altogether.

We had arrived expecting kitch, and instead found prayer, reverence, and peace. We spent an hour there, and it became a touchstone for the kids on the way back home a week later.

If you'd like more information on this site, their website is here.

Happy Birthday to Me!

Yesterday was my birthday. I turned 37. DH and my Pastor both asked me if I was turning 27 or 28. Sweet. But not necessary. I am ok with 37. In fact, it fits me. It took me a very long time to "feel" my age. Finally, when I hit about 32 or 33, I felt that my chronological age and my maturity level/state in life had equalized. So, 37 is just fine with me. (And at any rate, it sure beats the alternative!)

After mass yesterday, DH and the kids took me to lunch at a little restaurant next to a man-made lagoon. We shared a delicious lunch, lagoon-side, under an umbrella. While it was cloudy and a bit cool, it was still a good day to eat al fresco.

After lunch, including yummy desserts and the requisite singing to Mom, we rented a paddleboat and spent an hour boating around the lagoon. All of the kids took turns steering.

What afternoon at the park is complete without making a wish or three on some "wishing flowers?"

Blessings of the Week - vol. 2

This week has been filled with ever so many blessings, it will be difficult to pick just three. But I will try my best:

-1-

The blessing of a safe, warm, and wonderful week in Albuquerque with my great-Aunt Mary (who just turned 89), her son, their friend Father Hickman (aka Padre), and my dear friend from college days, Carrie. We last saw Aunt Mary 2 years ago, just before they moved to Albuquerque. Her health has been steadily declining for a long time, and I was certain that the last time I saw her would be the last time I saw her. It was a HUGE blessing to get to sit by her bed and hear the stories of life raising kids in the 1940s. Family is a good thing.

-2-

The weather. I am usually pretty easy-going about the weather. Rain doesn't cause me much fretting. But we had absolutely PERFECT weather every single day we were in the Southwest. We went to Santa Fe on Wednesday, and while it was a little cooler (it's about 2,000 feet higher than Albuquerque, which is already a mile high), it was clear, breezy and beautiful. On Thursday afternoon, we went for a hike in a canyon-desert just west of Albuquerque. It was 83 degrees and we were walking in the desert. And we were completely comfortable. I have to say that this very-low humidity thing is just wonderful (though we did go through a lot more lotion and chapstick!)

-3-

St. Christopher and our Guardian Angels. Today, as we were driving along Highway 40, at about 75 mph, about 30 miles east of Amarillo, TX, one of our tires blew out. At the time, we were surrounded (in front, on the right, and behind us) by tractor trailers. DH was trying to get over to stop at a gas station for a potty break, and suddenly had to fight to keep control of the car. We thought it was a big gust of wind. As we pulled onto the exit ramp, we heard the unmistakable sound of a flat tire. We pulled into the parking lot. AAA was called. Help was summoned. We learned of a service station 8 miles south, drove over there and had a new tire installed. The whole thing took 2 hours and cost about $30 (can you believe that deal!), and we spent the whole time cheerfully chatting, playing games, and offering prayers of gratitude for all of the angels and saints who were looking over us today.

*****

Well, I am looking forward to getting home, unpacking, catching up on laundry/mail, and posting a recap or two on our week. Lots and lots of pictures to follow.

How have you been? How has God blessed you this past week?