Celebrate Christmas with Christ

The best advice I received regarding my wedding day was to take a moment to step back and try to take it all in.  So my husband and did just that.  We stood outside for a brief time, breathing in the fresh air, listening to the music, watching our guests dancing and laughing.

This was our wedding.  We were married.

I am so thankful we took some time to slow down, some time to at least try at let the significance of the day soak into our hearts.

Christmas is similar kind of day.  It's one of the highlights of the year, and yet sometimes it feels like once it gets here, we start running and don't stop until we collapse in bed at the end of it all and mourn the fact that it's over.

All of the family, kids, gifts, conversation, and good food that fill the day are wonderful blessings.  But like all good blessings, they only increase with some quiet time for reflection and prayer.  They grow, they truly take root in our hearts, when we make time for gratitude.

The best gift we can give is ourselves to the Lord.  To put our lives in His hands and to trust in His plans for our new year.  Let's ask Him to help us let go of those things that are holding us back from living, and loving, the people in our lives.  The people who make daily life, and Christmas Day, so full, and if we can see it, so blessed.

The best gift we can receive also is our Lord.  But in order to do that, we first have to make room in our day to spend some time with Him -- to step out of the busyness in order to just be with Him for a while. We have to make room in our hearts to carry Him with us throughout our day.  We need to quiet all of the voices clamoring for our attention in order to hear His voice, in case He desires to speak to us.  And we need to ask Him to help us do any of this.

Jesus came as a baby in quiet, in stillness.  And that is where He can be found today.  He came as one so humble, so we would not need to fear Him.  He wants us to bring Him close to our hearts.  He came as One so adorable, because He wants to draw us to Himself.  He came into a family, because for all of its challenges, this is the place in which He still desires most of us to work out our salvation.  He came as a child, because He wants us to be simple.

So many of the trappings of Christmas have very little to do with the Baby in a lowly manger Who would one day die to save us from our sins.  All of Christmas has more meaning, and is more filled with joy, when we slow down enough to remember to celebrate it with Him.  Otherwise, it's like having a birthday party without a guest of honor.  It's like spending your wedding reception too busy to enjoy your new spouse.

This is our Christmas.  He is our Christ.

Rejoice! And, Merry Christmas!

"The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; upon those who dwelt in the land of gloom a light has shown.  You have brought them abundant joy and great rejoicing, as they rejoice before you as at the harvest, as people make merry when dividing spoils.  For the yoke that burdened them, the pole on their shoulder, and the rod of their taskmaster you have smashed ... For a child is born to us, a son is given us; upon his shoulder dominion rests.  They name him Wonder-Counselor, God-Hero, Father-Forever, Prince of Peace.  His dominion is vast and forever peaceful, from David's throne, and over his kingdom, which he confirms and sustains by judgment and justice, both now and forever.  The zeal of the lord of hosts will do this! (Isaiah 9:1-6)

Making time to remember

Three years ago, I was pregnant.

I celebrated the feast of Christ's birth anticipating the birth of my own baby.  But on the Feast of the Epiphany, Jan. 6, I delivered our son, after learning the day before that he had died.

I was 21 weeks pregnant the day I delivered Benedict Pio.  I have since heard of babies being born at 24 weeks and surviving.  I have a friend currently struggling through the challenges of having a micro-preemie (26 weeks, 1 pound).  I am not saying I wish those challenges had been mine; I am not saying I am glad they weren't.  All I know is that, while I realize there was no chance of my son surviving, whenever I hear about those 24-week babies, my heart fills with a strange ache and my mind fills with the words, "So close!"

I took the pictures with today's post at the Angelus Memorial for miscarried babies,
where Benedict was laid to rest.  These pictures were taken for a story I wrote
 in August for a local Catholic newspaper.

I knew the first Christmas after losing our son would be hard.  I prepared with prayers and talks with my husband, and mentally mapped-out how I would make an exit when the heartbreak got to be too much (which it did).

I even asked God, ahead of time, to help me forgive and understand why no one would mention our loss.  Although for them, Benedict's death was something from the past, best left alone on such a joyous day, he was in every one of my thoughts.  It is very hard to be surrounded by people you love, and to realize they either don't know, or don't know what to do with, something that consumes your own heart so very much.

Last Christmas, I had a fairly new baby, but I still grieved Benedict.  And this year, he is a curious toddler who gets into everything, and who has completely stolen all of out hearts.

So I thought the pain might not still be there.  Not quite so much.

But, as the Bible says, "The Lord answered, 'Could a mother forget a child who nurses at her breast? Could she fail to love an infant who came from her own body?  Even if a mother could forget, I will never forget you.  A picture of your city is drawn on my hand. You are always in my thoughts!" (Isaiah 49:15-16)

I want to remember my son.  I need to remember him. It is so important to me to value the lives of each of my children.

I held Benedict, and kissed his sweet head.  I saw the way his features resembled my other two, by now three, boys.  And a week ago, I found myself looking through an album of pictures we took just for ourselves (really, just for me), after his birth.

The way his arms were bent, with his hands pressed together under his face, like he was simply taking a nap ....

My heart still aches.

The pain of losing Benedict does not intrude upon my daily life the way it did two years ago.  And there is another little boy God somehow saw fit to bring into our lives who, while he does not replace his brother, does bring us so much joy.

But at Christmas, I am starting to think, if I do not slow down and remember the baby I carried for too short a time -- the baby whose absence literally left my arms aching, feeling like they'd lost their purpose when I delivered a child and yet there was no one to hold -- my body remembers for me.

It starts with nothing seeming quite right.  And then, when I remember that there is a reason for that feeling, when I acknowledge my son's life in some way, it seems a bit easier to move forward again.

The other day, we made a donation to our Church's Christmas flower display in Benedict's memory.  I always feel a bit embarrassed about the idea of putting his name out in public, but it brought me so much peace to think of remembering him in a way that will make the celebration of Christ's birth more beautiful for so many people.

My other children, on their own, have been asking lately to visit the Angelus Memorial where Benedict is buried.  So we chose a time on Christmas Eve when we will do just that.  Together.

And here I am in Adoration, the Sunday before Christmas, writing this.  Because maybe someone else finds their skin also no longer fits just right at Christmastime.  And maybe it will help to know they're not alone.  Maybe I can encourage them to find their own way of remembering their child, or children, no longer with them.

My prayer throughout Advent has been that Jesus would be born into our hearts.  And I've tried to slow down, to make time for quiet, for God, for my family, for listening.  Sometimes I have succeeded.  But I feel right now that mostly, I haven't.

My heart fills with emotions I don't really know how to face, and I find myself shopping for more gifts, losing my temper, or just losing my focus on the True Gift Christmas brings.  The gift of Hope.  The gift of Joy.  The gift of Peace.  The gift of Love.

The gift of a Child.

I have noticed there are a lot of babies in need on my prayer list right now.  I recently attended the funeral of a 10-month-old girl.  And I have my own loss that clearly still weighs on my heart.

But maybe all of this, in the light of Christmas, can help us see life -- all life -- for the miracle it truly is.

A friend of mine, who has lost multiple babies at late stages of pregnancy, said she finally concluded her four living children must be miracles.  In her case, they were the exception to the rule.  And somehow, God helped her see through her pain, to find gratitude!

Yes, the children and the family around us are such gifts.  Despite all of the struggles that so often accompany these relationships, may God open our eyes and our hearts to help us see them for the blessings they are this Christmas.

And for those we love, who have gone on ahead of us -- some of whom we never held in our arms alive, and some of whom we never held at all ... may God help us give thanks for their too-brief lives as well.  May He open our eyes to see the ways their lives have helped us grow, and maybe, therefore, the ways their lives have touched others.

My prayers are with all of you who are mourning the loss of a child, or other loved ones.  I also pray that reflecting on how our Lord came to us as an infant may help healing and hope to be born into your hearts this Christmas.

Making peace with tough choices

My husband and I recently made a big decision.  We will begin homeschooling our youngest daughter, who is in first grade, after Christmas break.

The reasons behind our decision are many, and personal, but they all have to do with meeting her needs at this time, and not with any dissatisfaction with her current environment.

Much prayer and attempts at discernment have gone into this decision.  Now that it has been made, there is more peace in my heart, and I am looking forward to moving forward.

This decision shows me how much I have grown in recent years.  I think we are making the right decision, but I am not completely sure.  And I am OK with that.  I am trying to do God's will.  I believe my heart is in the right place.  And I trust He sees that and will bless my efforts because of my desire to please Him.

In the past, I was so concerned about making the right choice, it was like there was a vice-grip on my heart.  Fear ruled, not peace.  Yes, I wanted to please God, but I didn't trust the full extent of His love for me.  I didn't understand that He doesn't abandon us.  Ever.  And especially not when we make what is perhaps a wrong choice while doing our best to seek His will.  He knows our hearts.  And that means more to Him than whether or not we follow some perfect "plan" He has mapped out for us.  In fact, He gave us free will, and He delights in us using it in ways meant to honor Him.

This prayer, by Thomas Merton, sums up how I often feel when making big decisions.  It's OK to not always get everything perfectly right.  That's how we truly live; that freedom is where we can find peace, and joy.

“My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going. I do not see the road ahead of me. I cannot know for certain where it will end. Nor do I really know myself, and the fact that I think that I am following your will does not mean that I am actually doing so. But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you. And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing. I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road though I may know nothing about it. Therefore will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

While I was online, searching for the above quote, I came across what is perhaps the most beautiful writing on discernment I have ever seen.  I wish I would have found it years ago, but perhaps I wouldn't have fully appreciated its wisdom at that time.  It is by Peter Kreeft, whose writing I have heard recommended for everyone interested in their faith, but particularly for high school- and college-aged youth and the particular questions they face.  Anyone with a child in that age group, asking questions about their faith  (and who isn't at that age?), would probably benefit from looking into more of Kreeft's writings.  His website with the article on discernment is here.  I think discernment definitely is a universal question!

Here is a small taste of what you will find in Kreeft's article: "Discernment itself should not be a stiff, brittle, anxious thing, but—since it too is part of God's will for our lives—loving and joyful and peace-filled, more like a game than a war, more like writing love letters than taking final exams."

How many of us, when faced with big decisions, approach it "more like writing love letters than taking final exams"?  But yet, if we grasp even a small amount of the love and care there is for us in the heart of the One who came to earth as a small babe in a manger -- if we understand we do not make these decisions alone, but He walks with us, and will continue to, wherever that road may lead us -- maybe the process could be more like writing a love letter.  This is a relationship in which even our mistakes can lead us closer to Him.

I am nursing a baby while writing this, and I can tell you that God came as a baby because He wanted to tell us something about the relationship He wants to have with us.  He doesn't stand above us, waiting to strike us down.  He desires to be near us, nestled close to our hearts, sharing in our smiles, multiplying our joy, filling us with warmth and peace.

May God bless you, and all of your decisions, this Christmas and in the new year.

Extend an invitation

My last post discussed the meaning I found in Mother Teresa's admonishment that faithfulness, not success, is what matters.

 Although it may not seem related, I recently took these words to heart again when my church hosted an Advent by Candlelight Tea.  If you're not familiar with what this is, women invite guests to sit at a table.  Each hostess decorates her own table and provides desserts.  The room is lit by candlelight from the tables.  Afterward, there often is a speaker.  It's a nice time to slow down and experience fellowship before jumping in to the busy Advent season.  And this year, at our church, the speaker was Debbie Herbeck.

I have written before about Debbie.  She changed my life, and my daughter's.  After hearing Debbie speak in February, I knew my daughter needed to attend Pine Hills Camp.  I never thought I would entrust my daughter to an overnight camp for any amount of time, let alone a whole week!  But once I met Debbie, it was like God spoke to my heart.  I signed up Meghan without a moment's hesitation.

Debbie is a convert to Catholicism from Judaism.  She is a powerful, faith-filled speaker. I wanted to share her message with as many people as I could, but I was nervous about hosting a table.  It sounds like a lot of work, and the ones I've seen have been so beautiful, they intimidated me!

But then they sent out another email, saying we could bring our middle-school aged daughters to hear Debbie speak.

And once again, I knew.  I signed up, and didn't look back!

Normally, about eight people sit at each table.  So I invited my mother and mother-in-law.  I invited one of Meghan's friends who had attended camp, and her mother.  I invited a neighbor who is a dear friend.  But then I kept thinking about more people -- especially about women I knew who also had daughters in that age group.  And then, other women I know, who I just wanted to be there.

Before I knew it, I was sending an email to request two tables.

Brendan, reading the book he received on St. Nicholas' Day.

I was such a mix of emotion, between wondering how I would provide a nice experience for all of these women, to feeling giddy at being able to invite anyone who popped into my mind.  It was such a great feeling -- to know I didn't have to say "no" to anyone who crossed my path.  If I thought of them, I invited them.  Enough people couldn't come that it all worked out.  And at the end, when two people had to cancel, I was able to post the openings on Facebook, and I quickly found two more people who had been hoping to attend, but who couldn't find an open table!

I trusted that God would help it work out so that whoever could be there, would benefit from hearing Debbie talk.  I felt a bit like an evangelist, but instead of speaking out myself about Christ, I was trying to lead my friends to someone who could talk to them, probably much better than I could, about how to open their lives more to Him this Advent.

Nothing Christmas-y here, but boy is he cute!

And as for decorating the tables, and the food.... It all worked out.  It was not without some bumps in the road, but it all worked out.  I had the hardest time finding the right sized table cloth.  I placed an online order that arrived too late.  I had to head back home minutes before everyone was supposed to arrive, because I had forgotten some candles there (thankfully I live close).  And although I was able to provide some nice (store-bought!) desserts, I did regret not providing some appetizers.  (Some women even had adorable gift bags for their guests. Sigh.)

But you know what?  The tables still looked beautiful.  The candlelight made them look even more special.  The food we did have was delicious.  I was especially thankful to be able to offer a store-bought, nut-free chocolate torte to one young high school girl, whose mom said she rarely gets to eat anything but homemade desserts. 

Anyone else have kids who wake up at 5 a.m. on St. Nicholas,
overcome with the simple thought of candy and a book in/by their boots?

Conversation flowed.  Women smiled.  Teenage girls laughed, and greatly appreciate the hot chocolate packets and candy canes I'd bought since I didn't know if they would like tea.  My grandmother's china made the evening extra-special, almost like she was sharing in the night with us.

Nothing was missing, and it felt like everyone who was there was supposed to be there.  My heart swelled with gratitude for all of God's blessing, in response to this simple "Yes" of mine.

Then Debbie spoke, and I knew this was the real reason we were there.  Her words helped us see our roles as wives, mothers, daughters, and women, through God's eyes.  We are valuable.  Our work does matter.

She helped us see past the external parts of how our holiday may go, to realize that when we are in God's hands, "All is well."

Even our commercial figures know the Real reason for the season!

She reached out to the young women in the audience, and made them feel understood, and loved.  She helped bring them closer to God's love for them.

The Holy Spirit was at work!

My daughter smiled and glowed on the way home, and through all of the next day.  I know this was the case for some other girls who came as well. 

Throughout next week, I noticed she and another friend were exchanging emails about their favorite quotes from saints and other Christ-filled people about love, from a book they purchased from Debbie at the talk.

My daughter is still 12, going on 13, and we still struggle, I promise.  But seeds were planted.  A memory was made.  I do not know if you would consider my tables and desserts a success.  But I am grateful my faithfulness was rewarded.

This is a beautiful, 12-foot tree that is new to us this year.
 It is a gift from a woman who lost her husband this year,
and who didn't want to put up the tree without him.
We are so appreciative of her generosity.
Could you join me in saying a prayer for them?

Find success in faithfulness

The reason I recommitted myself to this blog earlier this year was directly tied to efforts I was making, along with a few other women in my parish, to promote Eucharistic Adoration within our church.

Some of us had not even known each other before this year, but then, there we were on Ash Wednesday, standing in the church's gathering space, with a beautiful presentation, and packets of information, to help people learn about, and hopefully embrace, time with our Lord in Adoration.

The pictures today come from our presentation on Ash Wednesday.

I was awe-struck at how easily everything had come together.  Each woman had gifts that simply shined as we discussed how we might help more people discover our church's chapel, which has nearly perpetual Adoration.  It is such a gift!  And yet, we found ourselves talking with people who didn't even know it existed!

As we prepared our presentation, it became clear that despite our best efforts, we would perhaps not make much of a difference in terms of the overall number of Adorers in our chapel.  But it was clear God had brought us together, and we knew we had to proceed.  Mother Teresa's words became our mantra: "God does not require that we be successful, only that we be faithful."

The idea that perhaps we would lead one person to a deeper relationship with our Lord was not a small thought to us.  We decided to view even that as a huge success.  We chose to proceed without regard to the outcome, trusting that God called us to this work, and He certainly had His reasons.  We trusted fruit would come forth, even if we would never see it.

Honestly, I don't know what difference our efforts made -- except that they renewed my own appreciation for Adoration. 

And they encouraged me to continue with this blog.

I was so fearful of exposing myself here.  Afraid of failure, afraid of seeming like a fool!  This is not a decorating blog.  This is not merely for posting pictures of my children.  I wanted a place to share my faith.  It is extremely personal.  And it is hard.

Nevertheless, I felt a tugging on my heart that made me think God wanted me to pursue blogging anyway.  And, like we did with our efforts to promote Adoration, I thought He wanted me to move forward in faithfulness, not because I thought it may succeed in any earthly terms, but simply as a way of saying "Yes" to God!

I still had fear.  Even when I was editor of a newspaper, and had to write a weekly column, I found I couldn't look at my writing after it was published without getting a bit sick to my stomach.  God gave me this gift of writing that often requires me to "put myself out there," but doing so nevertheless often requires me to take a leap of faith.

I remember when it occurred to me, after I had started blogging a bit more regularly, that maybe I should tell some people about it.  Before that point, I would blog a bit, get cold feet and make the whole thing private, have another burst of courage and make it public again, and so on.  Now I felt like God wanted more.

So I told a couple family members.  And a couple friends.  And then in one big stomach-churning leap of faith, I posted something about it on Facebook.  I continued to enter into some serious deliberations with myself before each post, but slowly it did get easier.  And then I decided that if I was going to blog regularly, I had to spend more time just getting something on the page, and less time worrying about it.  This isn't my primary vocation, after all.

I have seen fruit from blogging.  When I write about ways God seems to be working in my life, it helps reinforce the lesson, I think.  I need a lot of that!  Writing more regularly has improved the other writing I enjoy doing for a local Catholic newspaper.  And it brings me joy.  Taking pictures, writing -- these are things I love.  It feels like an accomplishment to get something done that won't quickly be undone by a curious toddler.  Sewing, knitting, and scrapbooking are some ways to achieve this sense of making something permanent.  Writing can be too, I think.  The audience I usually have in mind is my children, in the future, maybe even when I am not there to guide them, finding some wisdom in my words that helps them embrace Jesus more fully in their own lives.  And that image encourages me to continue.

Ultimately, it is not about whether or not this blog can ever be deemed "successful."  For me, it is a "Yes" to God.  It is a sign of my faithfulness, one way in which I can help spread the Good News.  Come to think of it, that is a success indeed.

I had another topic, regarding an Advent Tea I attended last night, that I wanted to tie-in with this story, but I think that will have to wait for another day.  Stay tuned!  And, for the people who do read my blog ... thank you!

Giving thanks for a place of pasture

For more than a week now, I have had at least one child sick with something.  They are on the upswing, but the baby fought hard against a fever that started as he went to bed last night, kept him restless all night long, and thankfully, broke this morning.

It is hard enough to get things done around my home when he is simply his active, happy self.  When he doesn't feel well, needs to be held for large parts of the day, and doesn't sleep well, it feels almost like too much.

But I need to persevere, and it is worth the effort.  That's the wisdom I found in today's readings.

Not that a clean house is worth more than relationships, and definitely not that it's worth losing our peace over (although I certainly have done that!).  But that trying, as we are able according to our state in life, can provide beautiful gifts to those we love.

This verse, specifically, spoke to me today: "Jesus said: I am the gate.  Whoever enters through me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture." (John 10:9)

What images does the word "pasture" evoke for us?  Green, safe, nourishing, restful, peaceful, life-giving.  Sadly, there is no place here on earth that we can find those things to the degree we will experience them in heaven.  But, where is one place that we can, hopefully, experience these things to the greatest degree possible, this side of heaven?

Home.

Yes, the work of a mother, of a homemaker (who may or may not work outside the home), may be repetitive, overwhelming, and at times seem menial and endless.  But if we persevere in taking up our cross, and in walking joyfully with the Lord, in doing this hard work, we can provide those we love most with a place of pasture.  A place of nourishment, peace, rest.

So, like the Lord coming to earth quietly, disguised as a mere baby in His mother's arms, this so-called drudgery we face is, in fact, work for eternity.  The fruit -- which hopefully many of us will get a taste of tomorrow, on Thanksgiving Day -- is perhaps one of the closest things we will find on earth to hint of heaven.

Let us give thanks for our blessings!  And for the opportunity to do work which can be a blessing to others!

Happy Thanksgiving!

Prepare our hearts to listen

Luke sits in front of me right now, taking pictures of our Manger, with the Wise Men lined up to honor the King of Kings.

I don't like stores pushing Thanksgiving out of the way to make more time for Christmas shopping, but my children's enthusiasm for our manger is a bit of the holiday rush I don't mind indulging.

You can tell I took this picture after my camera
decided to stop focusing.  But it is still captures
such a sweet moment!

I was reminded today that Advent is a time to prepare -- to prepare our hearts for the coming of the Lord.

Set aside all of the cooking, decorating, shopping, and wrapping.  Are our hearts ready to welcome Him Christmas morning?

As I read through the Magnificat today, I saw verse after verse imploring me to listen.

"Listen to my voice; then I will be your God and you shall be my people." (Jer. 7:23)

"O today that you would listen to His voice! Harden not your hearts ..." (from Ps. 95)

"Hear the word which the Lord speaks to you, O house of Israel." (Jer. 10:1)

"Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." (1 Sam 3:9)

As we somehow find time for all of the other important things this Christmas season, let us first make sure we make time to listen in prayer.  I say this to myself more than anyone else, because while I know God is at work in our family, and I am seeing Him walk with us through some challenging times, I am finding it so hard to slow down and listen.

Why is that? Am I afraid of what He might say?  Why is it sometimes so much easier to just let the swirl of busy-ness continue on around us, to let the noise fill our ears and numb us to what He may be trying to tell us?

He is trustworthy.  He loves us.  And if we choose to listen, we can only benefit from whatever wisdom and grace He may pour into our soul.

The view outside my front door: I am thankful for this beauty!

I was truly blessed to listen to Father Jacques Philippe speak a couple weeks ago about finding and maintaining Christ's peace in our hearts.  He discussed a kind of peace that will help incline our hearts to listen.

In speaking about Adoration, he said, "When we simply come into God's presence, there is something of God's peace that comes into our lives.”

So, listening, does not have to be -- cannot be -- merely one more thing to cross off our to-do list this Advent.  It's not work in the same way as those other activities.  It's being in the Lord's presence, faithfully, trustingly, simply.  If we persevere in the prayer Philippe describes -- in "the most deep and beautiful prayer, (which) is to give God permission to love me just as I am,” He will speak.  And we will be there not just to hear, but to listen.

There is no better gift we could give, or receive, this Christmas.

A day of joy

Yesterday was one of those days in which the blessings just seem to flow, one right after another.  So I just took a deep breath, smiled, gave thanks, and enjoyed the moment.

Brendan won the fourth-, fifth-, and sixth-grade spelling bee at his school.  The funny thing was that, in the days leading up to it, the kids and I had joked numerous times about how I lost my sixth grade spelling bee with the word "lightning."  I added an "e" right there in the middle, and somehow the memory has stayed with me ever since! 

Two little Indians! Kate so wanted to match Nick for Halloween this year.
I wish I had more pictures that captured their cuteness,
but my camera gave out later in the day. 

Ironically, Brendan began his fifth grade spelling bee with that same word.  And he got it right!

Meghan was up next, and she won the seventh- and eighth-grade spelling bee.  I told them they should be happy the school didn't suggest they go head-to-head to find the one true winner! It would have been a battle!  I laughed last night when it occurred to me that homeschooling them for a year didn't do any permanent damage!  (Actually, I grow more thankful for that year all of the time!  I'm not sure it affected the spelling bee, but it did seem funny when I thought about it, and about all the fears I had to overcome to take on that year!)

After school, Meghan and I went for a run.  It was only our second day of doing this together, but I hope it becomes routine.  She needs some extra activity in between sports seasons (volleyball and basketball), and I think she also needs some extra time with me.  She loves to talk at bedtime, but sometimes I am just way. too. tired.  I love the way she opens up as we run together!  And I love how it feels to be exercising!



I don't know how Nick caught on that there was yummy stuff in those bright packages, but he made more sounds than I'd ever heard from him when he saw it.  And then I kept finding him walking around, trying to chew them through the wrapper! I actually ended up paying my kids a few dollars each, just to buy the candy from them and get it out of the way!
You can tell here that my camera now refuses to focus.  All I can think is that it got wet walking to the car after the kids' Halloween parties. My camera is just one on a long list of rather expensive things that have stopped working in the past month or so.  Which is another reason having all these blessings in one day was so very nice!

Brendan was at basketball practice after school.  He is just blooming this year!  He was determined to not play basketball.  We were just at a party a month ago, when I noticed his inability to even join in on a game, because he did not feel confident with the ball, and was too timid to just jump in there!  But when I picked him up at school the day practices started, he said, "Mom, I think I want to go to basketball practice,  I'll never know if I don't try, right?"  I couldn't have said it better myself -- in fact, I think I did say those words to him!  The best part is that the coaches are amazing, and he is absolutely loving every minute of it!  I never realized until this year just how much of a difference exercise makes for my boys.  I am so proud of him for having the courage to give something new a try!  And I am so happy it is bringing him joy!

In the evening, we drove to Ann Arbor for Meghan's volleyball banquet.  We had dinner and watched a collegiate game, and the kids had so much fun!  I wasn't planning to stay for the whole thing, but I just decided that as great as carpooling is, I wanted to be the one to take Meghan home, with all of us, and it was worth the wait.  We sang at the top of our lungs (sorry, Brendan!), and just enjoyed being silly together.  It was a nice, light moment, after realizing that next year she will be one of the eighth graders.  Where have the years gone?

Isn't this adorable? A mom in Kate's class made this --
the fruit and cheese kabob hair was delicious!

One other very special addition to the day was when my husband, who is a chiropractor, called home to say a patient had left money for him with instructions to take me out to dinner.  Apparently, my husband had helped identify a health problem that, if left untreated, could have cost this man his life.  It was such a beautiful act of generosity for him to reach out to us in this way.  It felt like God was just reminding us that yes, He always will take care of our needs, and more.  And just knowing that my husband, who has such a passion for helping people, was able to make this kind of a difference in someone's life, was a gift in itself.

Why I share...

A friend asked a question today after Mass  about the health of someone in my family, and was surprised by the lengthy answer I had for her.  She had thought something seemed different, but her question, which to me was full of meaning, had been to her (originally) something mentioned in passing.

This is a woman with whom I have shared many highs and lows, for both of us, and yet still I find myself questioning why am I so frank, sometimes, about things going on in my life?  The fact that I can actually blog about so many things serves as proof that I do open my life up, perhaps more than most.  I do not do this in person with people with whom I do not share a relationship.  And I have discovered, through trial and error, that some people or relationships are not the right places to share my struggles at all.  But still, the question remains for me, why let any people in on the tough things we face?  Isn't that private?  Why should we let anyone in on our pain?

My answer is twofold: community, and redemption.

Now, let me be clear that when I talk about sharing struggles, I do not mean forcing people to listen to a sob story.  I simply mean admitting, in appropriate situations, that you could use prayers, or some other form of help, even if it is just a listening ear.

This is humbling.  But it opens up the door of community.  It allows people to serve us.  And as one good friend recently reminded me, in today's self-sufficient society, letting people help us actually can be like giving them a gift.  Because it does feel like a privilege when you get to do something caring for someone in your community.  If we never open ourselves up to receive help, how does anyone get the chance to grow in charity?

Secondly, God made us for community.  So when we, out of pride, refuse to acknowledge that we need help, or even prayer, we may be refusing one of the primary means by which He would like to help us.  There is something so uplifting about a short note, or a meal, or even a smile of encouragement!  Let's not allow pride to keep these physical forms of God's grace from pouring into our lives.

The redemption part comes in when we believe that God can and will use our sufferings for good.  Which means we can use our story to help tell people about God's goodness.  But even more powerful than hearing a story of God working amazing things in someone's life, is getting to walk alongside them as He is working.  And He is always working.

During my junior year, a tragic car accident took the life of the girl who had been my roommate during my first semester of college.  I was friends with the two other girls who had been in the car with her, and I remember visiting one of them in her dorm room a short time after the accident.  I wanted to tell her I could empathize with her loss.  By that point in my life, I already had lost my best friend in a car accident at 16, and a close 19-year-old cousin in a car accident just one year earlier.  Another friend died to meningitis a few months later.

Anyway, I wanted to tell her I understood, and that I would be there for her.  But sharing with her my own losses during her time of great sorrow  just came out the wrong way.  It put the focus on me, when all I wanted to do was reach out with some comfort.

If she had already known about my losses, it would have been easier.  I simply could have said, "I understand," and she would have known it was true.

I guess my point is this: We never know when those people we allow to see our struggles may face the same struggles themselves.  My hope is that seeing me hurt and fall and trying to walk by faith through the tough times will encourage those I love to do the same when their own trials come.  Perhaps knowing God was faithful in my situation will help them persevere in faith in their own situation.

If they never see someone trusting God, even in the darkness, how will they know it can be done?

I am currently reading a very informative book, called "Forming Intentional Disciples," by Sherry Weddell.  Weddell writes, "Unfortunately, most of us aren't spiritual geniuses.  If nobody around us ever talks about a given idea, we are no more likely to think of it spontaneously than we are to suddenly invent a new primary color.  To the extent that we don't talk with one another about discipleship, we make it very, very difficult for most Catholics to think about discipleship" (page 56).

She later adds, "It is difficult to believe in and live something that you have never heard anyone else talk about or seen anyone else live" (page 57).

We all struggle.  To willingly humble ourselves to admit we are hurting, and most importantly, to share how we are allowing God to walk with us, and the ways in which we see -- or are trying to see -- Him at work, perhaps will plant a seed in someone else's heart, and encourage them to look for Him in their struggles as well.  Perhaps it will remind them, when they most need it, that none of us is alone.

Perhaps the next time a friend or loved one asks how you are doing, you may consider answering with more than just, "Oh, fine."  Perhaps our best evangelization tool is our honesty.

Jesus' embrace of the cross

Yesterday, when I stepped out of church after Communion, with a fussy baby, I noticed a large table set up in the gathering space with beautiful olive wood carvings.  No one else was out of Mass yet, so I had some time to quietly admire the work, all of it so beautiful.  One piece struck me as particularly special.  It was a tall statue of Jesus, carrying His cross.

What struck me about the statue was the way Jesus held the cross.  His hands wrapped around it in an embrace.  His face, bent forward with suffering and crowned with thorns, wore an expression of gentleness and love.

Our son Luke will celebrate his First Communion in May, so I asked him if he would like to pick out something for his gift.  He smiled, and immediately walked to a small version of the statue I had been admiring before he came out of Mass.  Of course, I said yes to that gift!  I hope Luke carries it with him throughout his life, and that it reminds him how much he is loved, and that he never carries his crosses alone.

My heart ached from the simple way in which this statue proclaimed such a profound message.  Jesus loved His cross.  For, as much as it caused Him to suffer like no man had ever suffered, it also enabled Him to save us.  His sacrifice -- His embracing of the cross -- bridged a gap we never could have spanned on our own.

Jesus loves us.  He did not want the cross, but He took it up willingly because He wanted something more, and this was the only means by which to achieve it.  What was it He wanted?  Us.  Our hearts.  He wants to walk with us through our days, and to be with us in eternity.  Even those of us who love Him dearly often hurt Him, and turn from Him, in so many ways.  And yet He not only took up the cross -- He embraced it -- so that He can stand there at the door of our hearts and knock.  And so that, hopefully, we will open the door, answer "Yes," and let Him in.

My husband and I have been carrying a cross lately.  One I never would have imagined would have been ours to carry.  But here it is, in our hands.  And I find myself asking, "What are we to do with it?"

Run away?  Lash out at the unfairness of it all?  Cower in fear?  Or do our best to embrace it -- to move forward in faith, knowing we do not walk alone, and that "in everything God works for good with those who love him" (Rom 8:28)?

The beautiful olive wood carvings at our church Sunday are from Bethlehem Handicrafts, and can be found online here.  They are made by, and support, Christian families in the Holy Land.  This endorsement benefits me in no way.  I write this simply because their work is beautiful and their cause touches my heart.

Thanks be to God, we have chosen the latter.  Surely, it is His Grace that has enabled us to make the choice.  And it is His Grace that will enable us to walk in it.  We are trusting, or trying to trust, that when He allows suffering, it is only because He knows something we don't.  He knows what we need to be pruned and led ever closer to His heart.  He has a better plan, and we trust in that, even though it means letting go of the plans we thought we had, of the control we thought was ours, and of the comfort in which we imagined we could rest, thinking we knew what our next step held.

Now that our helplessness is so abundantly clear to us, all that remains is to put ourselves in His hands, to rest, and to trust that He Who could carry a cross so gently, will carry us even more gently still.

The true work of Motherhood

"Ain't Mama happy; ain't no one happy!"

I used to hate that phrase.  It seemed so selfish: Keep me happy, or you all will suffer!

But now I know -- it's true.  It may be possible that truer words never were spoken about family life!

Not for my original understanding of the phrase, but for a deeper truth (one that sees past the terrible grammar) that understands just how important a mother's role is within a family.

St. Edith Stein said: “Woman’s soul must be magnanimous, open, quiet, warm, clear, self-contained, empty of self, mistress over itself and body. This is the ideal for woman’s soul. To win children for heaven is genuine maternity: it is the most exalted vocation for all women.”

What a huge responsibility!  Let's break it down into some real-life snapshots:

When we all oversleep, and I can look past the fact that the kids won't get to school on time, that one kid has mismatched socks, and another really should change into a cleaner pair of pants -- when I can focus instead on the peace, joy, and love I want them to carry into their day -- everyone wins.

When one, or more of my children is struggling in some way, and lashes out at their siblings, or even at my husband or I, and I can keep my peace, calm usually gets restored much more quickly.  When I lose my temper in return, suddenly whatever is happening in our home is no longer about dealing with a child's misbehavior.  Suddenly, it becomes all about me.

I struggle with this.  My more expressive emotions, which are such a gift when it comes to letting my family know I love them, threaten to overtake me as well when I am experiencing a deep sadness, or anger, or other difficulty.

If I am worried about something unrelated to my children, they are the ones most likely to suffer as a result.

I say I am sorry -- I am not afraid to apologize to my children, or to God.  I have learned to repent, to pick myself up, and to try again.  I have found being too hard on myself (something I struggle to fight against) only leads me to get more angry, because it's hard to share true kindness with your children while you are feeling like you are unworthy of them.  That thinking is not from God, and so when we are feeling that way, it becomes nearly impossible to share His gifts.

So how do we keep "Mama happy?"  When four hungry -- physically and emotionally -- children walk in the door at the end of the school day, and the baby decides now would be a good time to get some food and attention too, how do we respond with peace, with love?

When our heart is in knots because of some weighty issue we can't share with our children, how do we not let that taint our time with them?

I am still figuring this out; it may be one of my biggest struggles.  But I think the answer may be found, at least in part, in the verse: "Out of the abundance of the heart, the mouth speaks." (Matt 12:33-35; also see Luke 6:45)

When we know we are loved, it is easier to love. If we do not know that, we must start by reading God's word, by making quiet time in our day to let our hearts absorb its Truth, and to just be with God.  We must ask Him to help us know His love for us.  We must ask Him to help us understand why we respond in the way we do.  And we must ask Him to please, please show us how He wants to help us in situations that bring our weaknesses to the forefront.

And then, we wait.  We trust. We hope.  And during the times when it seems impossible to do any of those things, we cling to the hem of His robes in prayer and beg for mercy, forgiveness, healing (Matt 9:20).  He will hear us.  He does not disappoint (Rom 5:5)

God knew what He was doing when He made us, so somehow, some way, even our weaknesses can lead us to the Lord -- will lead us to Him -- if we place ourselves entirely in His hands (2 Cor 12:9).

And trust, trust, trust.

Every day, every time I go down my stairs, I see a picture of the Divine Mercy -- Jesus' blood, and water, pouring out for us -- and repeat the words at the bottom: "Jesus, I trust in You."  And so often, I need to add: "Help me trust more."

That is what truly makes for a "happy Mama": trust and faith in a Loving God.  A quiet heart willing to let Him work.  A generous heart eager to share its gifts.  A humble heart willing to acknowledge its strength alone is not enough, and willing to seek forgiveness (and to accept it) when it fails.

Listen to God.  There is something He wants to speak to your heart today.  Seek silence.  If we cannot have it externally, we must ask God to help us find it internally.  Mother Teresa said, "We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature -- trees, flowers, grass -- grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence... We need silence to be able to touch souls."

Touching souls is the work of motherhood.  A mother who knows this and, with God's grace, is living this, will be the happiest of all.

Finding wisdom in St. Thomas' story

Sorry I have been away from blogging for a while.  I recently threw a surprise birthday party for my mom, and it required a lot of time and energy  But it was a success -- she was surprised, and everyone had so much fun!  If you ever have a chance to surprise someone you love with the gift of friends and fun, I wholeheartedly encourage you to do it!

I heard a homily this summer about St. Thomas that struck straight to my heart.  Poor St. Thomas -- he undoubtedly poured his life out for the Lord, but what most people seem to remember of him is that he said he would not believe in the Resurrection until he had seen the holes in the Lord's hands, and touched the wounds in the Lord's side.

He's really not so different from most of us, but I rarely hear St. Thomas mentioned along with a nod and an acknowledgement of, "Yep! That's me!"

It is easier to have faith when we have seen the Lord at work in our lives.  But that's not the only lesson we can take from St. Thomas' story, according to this homily.  St. Thomas' story doesn't just show us ourselves; it also shows us how to help lead others to Jesus.

By showing them our wounds.

It is when we are willing to be vulnerable, to share our hurts, and hopefully, the ways in which God has infused them with His grace, that we can best help others.

My background as a journalist means I love asking people questions.  I am always awe-struck when I meet someone who has taken some hurt, or some life experience, and has transformed it into a way to help others.  The people who do this always seem so passionate about their work, and so capable of truly touching others' hearts and lives.

Like one of my son Luke's speech therapists, who chose her occupation after watching her dad recover from a stroke while she was still in high school.  She is so passionate about her work, and actually helped us with some key issues others had overlooked.  Interestingly, her sister became an occupational therapist.

Recently, I was blessed to write this article for the Catholic Times about a local man, Pat Hohl, who donated a kidney to his sister.  His gift saved her life.  But she also has used her life as a gift. With my son's experiences in mind, I found it hard to stop asking questions of Elizabeth Hohl.  Born with a speech impediment and a vision impairment, Elizabeth now works as a speech therapist.  She, too, uses her wounds to help heal others.

Even Pat  has his own story.  He is an avid runner.  And all those years of sacrificing comfort for good health paid off when he, a 58-year-old man, was able to donate his kidney to his sister.  Donors usually are under age 50, and doctors doubted he would be able to pass the stringent testing required to give an organ.

Another story I recently wrote also showed what a difference people can make when they use their wounds as a way of reaching out to others.  I will post a link to the article if and when it goes online.  I interviewed two families who, after experiencing the loss of their own children (and a grandchild) during pregnancy, started memorials and burial places for unborn children in two different Michigan communities.  We placed our son, Benedict Pio, in one of these memorials.  We have found tremendous peace in having such a beautiful resting place for our son.
 

This blog, among other reasons, began from my desire to share some of the ways God has supported my family through our struggles.  Ecclesiates tells us there is nothing new under the sun (1:9).  If this is true, it means we are not the only ones to have experienced the pain in our hearts.  We don't have to walk alone.  And maybe, with our help -- with our willingness to be vulnerable -- someone else will see they don't have to walk alone, either.

Turning to God's word

I haven't written in a while, because the kids are back in school and I have taken on some extra projects (deep-cleaning my house).  The Like Mother, Like Daughter blog I have posted to the right is my favorite resource for home-management techniques and philosophy!  Just check out the links they have along the right side of their page.  Auntie Leila truly understands that we want an orderly and beautiful home because of the peace and joy it can help bring our family.  She also understands what it's like to have a bunch of kids, a nursing baby, and a life you want to live in the house!  Check it out if you, like me, need some encouragement and a good solid nudge every now and then!

I have so many ideas for posts swirling around in my head, but I think the heart of it all can be summed up in one of today's readings.  May it bring peace to your heart as it has for mine!

"Brothers and sisters: Put on, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, heartfelt compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience, bearing with one another and forgiving one another, if one has a grievance against another; as the Lord has forgiven you, so must you also do.  And over all these put on love, that is, the bond of perfection.  And let the peace of Christ control your hearts, the peace into which you were also called in one Body.  And be thankful.  Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, as in all wisdom you teach and admonish one another, singing psalms, hymns, and spiritual songs with gratitude in your hearts to God.  And whatever you do, in word or in deed, do everything in the name of the lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him."

(Colossians 3:12-17)

 

Just as I was writing this post, my husband called me outside
to see a Monarch butterfly that just emerged
from its cocoon.  So beautiful!  And hopeful, too!