Pushing The Call Button

Our mom has been in the hospital for nearly a week with a severe infection. The antibiotics they thought were treating it weren't touching it. The correct and apparently the only antibiotic that could treat it wasn't started until the fifth day after admission. 

She woke up long enough to answer questions and hopefully take two bites of something. I have never seen her so sick nor been so afraid for her life. I spent four nights with her in the hospital and have a new appreciation for that little red circle with a white cross in the middle. When you push it, someone comes.

The call button.

Some nurses and aides were great, some weren't.  None of them took the time to learn or use my name. But someone always came.

The antibiotic worked within a couple of hours and returned Mom to herself. She is being discharged today. I am filled with awe and gratitude and am thinking about call buttons--how they show up and when they show up in our lives. My premature conclusion is that we should all have one. 

One push. No need to dial 911. That's too many separate actions for someone who is really in trouble. Physically, mentally, emotionally, or spiritually.

However, based on recent experience with a patient that should be too young to die by today's standard, I know that having a call button doesn't mean that it is easy to push. In this case, I am not talking about muscle weakness but that can be true too. I am talking about pride and expectation.

When you spend 65 years walking to the bathroom and wiping yourself, pushing a button for someone to come and help you is one of the hardest things there is. Unless you count pooping or peeing in a diaper before you push the button. You can call it a brief if it makes you feel better. Hopefully, we can find comfort in language when we can't find it anywhere else.

Pushing a button for someone to come and help you for any reason—unless you are a boss with a secretary or personal assistant-- requires a conscious acknowledgment and willingness to admit that you are no longer independent every.time.you.push.it.

Unfortunately, this is how we define death in our culture. Just not openly. 

As a wise woman in a nursing home once told me, it is a good thing we don't have an on/off button, or we would push it way too soon.

As I was returning to my mom's hospital room after getting some dinner, I saw an elderly man in the lobby. He had a highly bandaged leg whose signs of seepage indicated that it might be time for a dressing change. But he wasn't there for himself. He was trying to get a wheelchair to get himself to his wife's room as she had just had brain surgery. 

The man working the front desk said he could get him one but it would be a minute. The elderly man insisted he could not wait, as he told his wife he would be there at 8:30 and he did not want to be late. He limped off in the direction of her room. 

By the time I signed in and caught up with him in the hall, he was leaning with his head against the wall to rest. I sidled up beside him and offered my arm. He eagerly accepted, thanked me, and leaned into every other step. 

At the long-awaited door on the third floor, I told him he made it. He looked at me and said “we made it.” I said okay, and smiled. He introduced his wife and we shared a little small talk. As I closed the door behind me I heard her say “Who was that?!” I laughed as I recognized myself in her.

I just had to put words to all of these things because that's what happens when my head and heart are full. Plus, I like how it all goes together.

 Sometimes, we have to push the call button and sometimes we get to answer it. That’s how call buttons work.  

At Your Window

I’m sorry in advance that this is depressing.  But, the reality is stark.  I wrote this poem on my way home from work after doing another window visit today.  

I understand that nursing homes are trying to keep their residents safe, intentions are good, they have to follow the rules that other people make, and the heroes who work there are working very, very hard...

But, they are suffering trying to be all things to all people, and the people they are working so hard to serve are suffering more still.  I don’t know how to change laws or rules, but I know how to write.  And I know how to hope to be a voice for the voiceless as people languish in the silence...

At Your Window

I am standing outside your window

And you can see me there

But I cannot hold your hand 

And I cannot stroke your hair.

I yell through the glass that I miss you

And I fill your bird feeder

You yell back from your bed

That you feel bad everywhere.

I say that I am sorry

I say “This is the pits”

You lay there untouched and seen

Hoping this is it.

But it’s not and you grow tired

You’re angry they like to say

So the overworked few who can come in

No longer want to stay.

I tell you that I love you

But through the window I cannot climb

So, I turn around and walk away

And again leave you behind.

I hope that some little birds

Will come and stay awhile

Though they innocently flaunt their freedom

May they also bring a smile...

While you lay in endless wait 

For things to open up

You will not die from Covid

You will die from lack of love.

All In a Day’s Work

Today is a need-to-write-it-out day.  Not that it was a bad day.  It wasn’t.  It was a good day, full of lots of different things that all fall under the same umbrella, which is my job, which doesn’t feel like a job at all.  

It started with a team meeting to discuss plans of care for our hospice patients, just like we do - every two weeks.  

I found myself with an hour to spare before my next visit, so I made an impromptu visit to a friend and recent widow.  She served me lunch and wondered how I do my job.  She encouraged me to use the bathroom before I left for my next visit, not to speed, and sent me with cookies to go.  I marveled at how she was caring for me while learning how to get through a day in her new life.

Next, a scheduled visit to a beautiful home in the country.  (I only sped a little.)  Bath and lunch were finished just in time for a living room concert for mother and daughter.  Conversation about how glad they are to be together in their home, and not separated because of COVID visiting restrictions was a welcome topic between songs.  

This, on the heels of singing Christmas-in-July carols in the rain yesterday with some of my coworkers and volunteers at a couple of nursing facilities - because the residents aren’t sitting in their living rooms with someone they love, and because we can.

Got a call on the way home from a relative of one of our patients who recently passed away.  She taught me a lot about faith and perseverance, and a little secret about making a wish when you see a red bird, and stamping it onto your hand before the red bird flew away - just like her Mom taught her.  I only taught her how to make a paper flower.  Anyway... 

They were cleaning out her room and wanted to donate some things, so I stopped by to pick them up.  I reclaimed the hummingbird feeder I bought for her and the plant stand she no longer needed.  No doubt they will find another hook to hang on and a plant to hold.  They will continue to do their part in bringing the little bit of joy they’re able, which reminds me all of the people I have the privilege of working with and the people that we serve— and know, too, so will we. 

Becoming Secondary

Sometimes, there is a downside to working in hospice and it is different than what you might think.  It's not too much death or dying, but a hyper-awareness of time in my normal every-day living.

Nothing brings this home more than when I'm trying to track down my percussionist in the orbit of high school marching band when I can't get him on the phone.

Does that seem like a weird set of circumstances to bring the old sand-filled hourglass center stage?

I'm hoping I can explain, and figure it out for myself at the same time...

I get to meet people in the evening of life on a routine basis.  Very often, they've become secondary to the people in their lives for whom they were primary for a good long while.  Spouses and kids, mostly.  They were wives and husbands, mothers and fathers, and their best years were the same years I'm living now.  But, their people slowly moved on.  They were moved from the center of their lives to the periphery, and became someone to check in on, rather than someone to be included and enjoyed.

My eyes are wide open to this shift.  I'm becoming aware of the people in my life who may feel like they've been dropped in a secondary slot, permanently.  I am still primary for my children because I can drive and grocery shop and facilitate everything that is important to them.  But, I am inching my way to the periphery and every time I'm holding my phone and there is no answer on the other end, I know.

An unscheduled weekend rolls in and feels like a blessing and a curse because time together is so important.  But, finding more than two people who want to do the same thing is a chore and getting all five to agree is nearly impossible.

So, we compromise. 

At the river, a couple of us fished down the bank a little ways, I sat on an uncomfortable rock until my butt hurt and then filled a trash bag with other people's trash, while someone else threw rocks at spiders the size of grapefruits, hoping to pass a few minutes while noting, "this is the-most-redneck-vacation."  It seemed like the best bonding moment was our unanimous relief to be back home, savoring the memory that we created.  Mainly, that we didn't want to go back there any time soon.  No discussion needed.
 
Sunday kept us altogether for breakfast and Mass, but separate for the rest due to attractions that couldn't be resisted and commitments that needed to be kept.  But, fortunately for me, my plans included sitting poolside and holding a baby for a couple of hours which seemed to slow time a bit.  Gratefully.

Unless I am hitting Sonic at Happy Hour, there are few things my boys are interested in joining me for, and doing things as a family is, well, usually a compromise for most of us.  So, I sit on the futon as long as anyone will sit by me, deliver pigs in a blanket to a fort in the woods, change my schedule to steal a lunch date at Subway, and go to the skate park when it's almost dark because "they have lights, you know".

I know I am becoming secondary.  Just in little moments for now, but they are coming more frequently and I know they will keep coming, as they should.  Occasionally, someone will notice a little tear and recognize that I'm not okay and while I'm trying to find the words to explain, they decide they didn't really want an explanation, anyway.  And I'm relieved, because I couldn't really explain it, anyway.

Two Irreconcilable Worlds

I have an embarrassing history of being totally ignorant about what is going on in the world.  Not being a TV person and spending very little time in the car, it has been very easy to be ignorant.  I never felt compelled to check the news, because I never understood how simply knowing about bad things, without the ability to impact the situation for good, was helpful to anyone. 

Well, time has passed, and I have slowly decided to stay more informed; probably a combination of the guilt of being a bad citizen, the inability to participate in conversation, and the embarrassment that comes with it.  I  downloaded an app for a local news station, and started checking it once a day.  However, I just found out about the recent Ebola outbreak from my niece (because I hadn't seen anything on the local news), so I downloaded the CNN app.

Today (and probably the whole of my life), people are fleeing everywhere. Staying in their homeland would involve conversion to Islam, extreme taxation, or death by the sword.  Children are dying from thirst in the mountains after fleeing religious persecution with their families.  People are dying by the hundreds from ebola virus.  And I'm sitting on my futon, thinking about part-time jobs and getting in one more beach trip before school starts.

I don't know how to reconcile my life with their lives.  I don't want to be un-impacted by such horrific suffering.  As a Christian, I know I can and should pray.  Is that it?  Pause for a moment, feel bad for a moment, intercede to the Father for them, and then business as usual?  It's a little gut-wrenching to think the answer is "Probably".  Other ways to help in a practical manner seem non-existent. 

It brings me back to the point where I seem to find myself more and more frequently...to appreciate what I have, and to give where I can.  Just yesterday, I registered my boys for the upcoming school year.  In the health section, I checked the "No" box 54 times (18 for each boy) where it asks about specific problems or medications.  Nope.  Nothing.  Healthy as horses.  Do you mean that for every "No" I checked, some parent checked "Yes"?  Yes. 

Have we moved in the last three years to find work in farming or fishing?  Hell, no!  I can't even imagine that.  But, someone has.  Lots of people.  Every person who has a child in this school district has to answer this question, and it's not because it's irrelevant. 

I'm grateful when I check the box that I am, in fact, my child's parent and we reside in the same place.  Again, I could not imagine it any other way.  But, a lot of people can't imagine it my way, either. 

So, this morning, after taking a peek at the news and getting ready for the next thing in my day, it looks like the world is "going to hell in a hand basket" and my world is as rosy as ever.  What to do with that?  I will live more gratefully and intentionally this day.  I will not complain about anything that is short of the pain of death -at least for today.  I will try to encounter Christ, as I attend my women's group this morning.  I will donate to an old classmate's campaign for safe driving, call a friend who's having a hard time, and bring "Happy hour" to a friend recovering from surgery. 

This doesn't mean anything in the face of religious persecution or ebola virus, but it means everything in my world, and that is the best I can do.

Dear God of Worlds - Large and Small,

Thank you for my life and all of the healthy people in it.  Thank you for freedom of religion.  Thank you for the tremendous wealth, comfort, and safety we have in this country.  I pray we use it for good, and that it may not be an obstacle to anyone's salvation, as you have said.  Lord, please free, comfort, and protect those who need it.  You have said that we need not fear that which can kill the body, but only that which can kill the soul.  Please convict us of this, Lord.  Help us to live in such a way, that is small, but important.  You see and know all.  Jesus, we trust in You.  Amen.

Twenty Years Later

Twenty years ago, on March 20, 1994, I awoke to a knock on the door early in the morning.  My Mom's brother and best friend were standing there.  They told me my Mom had been in a car accident, and flown to a bigger city for the "right kind of doctor", and something about a hurt back.  I remember thinking that she probably wouldn't be able to lift anything heavy for awhile, but not much beyond that.  When we drove to see her later that day, I found her all puffy lying in a bed with a metal halo attached to her skull, abrasions on her arms, in a room that smelled like blood and medicine, I guess.  Oddly enough, I don't remember anything about her left wrist which was completely shattered.  Worst fracture the orthopedist has seen in 10 years, as I recall.  I remember asking about how she got this mark, or that mark, and when she answered that she didn't know, she sounded like a robot and said something like "I'll be fine." 

Unlike my older sister, I don't remember being told that she'd never walk again.  Maybe that happened during the following week when I was gone on my high school spring break choir trip to Disneyworld.  I didn't want to go, but everyone felt it was best.  Mom was going to live, and beyond that, there wasn't anything I could offer by staying.  So, I went. 

For the following three months, Mom lived in the rehabilitation hospital, re-learning how to eat, brush teeth, bathe, and basically, survive.  This is the same hospital I visited, so she could see me in my junior Prom dress.  The same hospital where we slowly learned what our new life would look like.  Throughout this time, my younger brother and I lived with our aunt and uncle.  We were 16 and 14.

My mother became a quadriplegic on that fateful night, 20 years ago.  She broke her neck and left wrist.  She was 43-years-old.  It has been a long, long road.  Lots of things come with a lack of mobility.  Bed sores, incontinence, pneumonia, blood clots, digestive issues, chronic pain, total lack of privacy and self-sufficiency, and all manner of emotional and psychological adjustments besides. 

But, none of these are why I'm writing today.  Today, I am thankful for what I have gained from walking with my Mom through part of her journey.  Through it all, I was only her right-hand lady for  about four years, and a back-up beyond that.  But, I learned a lot in 4 years.  I wish that I could say that I served her well.  But, I was often bitter and unkind.  However, twenty years later, my experiences with her are still positively impacting the decisions I make. 

On Monday, I am going to embark on a new chapter in my life - pursuing hospital chaplaincy.  This begins with a 10-week internship at a local hospital, and will follow with a Master's degree in Pastoral Theology.  I could not feel more suited or more excited.  Because of my mother's accident, I took the course to become an Emergency Medical Technician during my Senior year of high school.  From there, I worked in our county's EMS service and emergency room through college and beyond.  I loved the people, I loved the work, and I loved the environment. 

As my youngest starts kindergarten next year, it is time for me to expand my stay-at-home-mom gig.  As Providence would have it, all of my personal experience, work experience, and passion about the spiritual life are coming together as a new vocation.  I am going to be a hospital chaplain. 

I'm with my Mom and all fellow Christians when I repeat Romans 8:28 from the bottom of my heart,

We know that all things work for good for those who love God - who are called according to his purpose.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for my Mom.  Thank you for preserving her life.  Thank you for her perseverance, her forgiveness, and her continual effort to grow closer to You.  Thank you for my aunt and uncle who absorbed us into their lives, as if it was the easiest thing in the world.  Please give me the grace to imitate them, when others look to me for something they should be receiving from someone else.  Thank you for my co-workers through my EMS years, and for their model of Christianity in the workforce.  Thank you for all of the opportunities You have afforded me because of another's misfortune.  Thank you for all of the things that seem easy, because of going through something really hard.  Please purify all of the good that I do poorly today, and all of the days of my life.  Please bless my pursuit to become a hospital chaplain, if that is in fact Your Will for me.  If not, please take away my desire and replace it with Yours.  Amen       

Going, Going, Gone

A few stories from the lives of people I love.  People who are saying good-bye or wishing they had the chance...

~I helped a friend go through some of her belongings last night; Some were 50 years old or better.  I pulled stuff out from under her bed and went through her kitchen cabinets.  I boxed up what she didn't want and brought it home.  My friend is 95-years-old, and is moving away to her old hometown, where she can see the ocean from her living room. 

She moved several times within her retirement facility in the last couple of years, and each time, she has gotten rid of things she's held onto for most of her life.  The green dress she wore in Las Vegas once was not about to go, but that was an exception.  During this final purge, amongst boxes of jello, wine glasses, and an old sugar crock, I was fighting back the tears.  It didn't seem to be the least bit painful for her, but watching her have to let go of the simplest things because there will no longer be room nor need of them, were little deaths for me.

In the midst of a season, in a world, where acquiring is life, I know she's on the other side.  She will be moving mid-January.  God willing,  I will see her a couple more times after the Christmas Break, but that will probably be it, for good.  And that is a hard thing to know.

I hate good-byes.  I especially hate them when they are forever.  Although, fortunately, we can only move through life going forward, so I have rarely known these ahead of time.   A friendship made between rides to hair appointments and lunches at Whataburger is going, going,...

~Another friend celebrated her 60th wedding anniversary this year.  She and her husband split up a few months later.  But, only because they had to.  He left the retirement facility one-too-many times without signing out, and became a liability.  (Going to the donut shop is fine, but be careful if you are too young or too old).  His mental faculties are declining, and can no longer safely stay put, with his wife of 60 years.  He was moved to his own apartment in a nearby building, which his wife can reach by a short bus ride.  He calls her all day long.  Her voice is the only thing familiar.  Their marriage, as they know it, is going, going...

~One of my dearest friends over the past nine years lost her daughter on October 30th of this year.  She was murdered by her ex-boyfriend, who had been stalking her for months.  He killed her, set her house on fire, and shot himself.  She was 41-years-old.  A well-loved beauty who loved dogs, motorcycles, and life. 

I was helping my friend clean out her daughter's house a couple weeks ago.  Everything was just as she left it, except it was all covered in soot.  There was plenty of food in the pantry, dishes in the dishwasher, and cigarettes in the ashtray.  The days were marked off on the calendar up to the day before she died. 

On earth, all that is left of Tabitha is the incredible love her family and friends have for her, which will never be able to cover the excruciating pain they feel at having her ripped out of their lives.  From the outside looking in, it seems the only pain that comes close, is that of not getting to say good-bye. 

Sometimes, we get to prepare for the end.  The end of a relationship or the end of a life. 

And, sometimes, we don't.

Dear God, thank you for old and new friends.  Thank you for the way our lives get all tangled up, so that we can't help but be influenced by one another.  I know You hear the cries of anguish from Your beloved people.  Please comfort them, as only You can.  My hands are sweaty on the keyboard and I feel shaky inside, putting these stories together on one page, when each one has impacted me so deeply.  Please, please, please let their pain be fruitful for all who are touched by it - That we may love better and more - That we may forgive and make our forgiveness known - Like we don't have forever to get it right.  Amen.

Eternal rest grant unto Tabitha, O Lord, and let Perpetual Light shine upon her.  May she rest in peace.  Amen.

Friendship and the Power to Change the World

It's barely 8:00 on Sunday morning, and I have walked for 30 minutes, prayed the Rosary (during my walk), and finished my morning prayer.  All of my boys are still asleep.  I cannot tell you how good this feels!  I want to share this with you, because it's new and it's happening because of the influence of one person. 

Yesterday, I downloaded the Couch to 5K app on my phone, and headed out the door at 6:45am to begin Day 1.  I arrived back home in 30 minutes sweaty and satisfied.  I dropped my gym membership about a year ago, and haven't done much of anything since then.  I just couldn't commit nor did I even want to.  Until two days ago.

Two days ago, I got together with a friend who has three boys (like me) and a 7-month-old baby girl.  She was wearing her workout clothes when we arrived, so I pressed about her exercise routine.  She told me she gets up early before her kids wake and walks/jogs for 20 minutes, and she's not a runner.  One of her earliest nicknames was "Turtle".  This blew me away.  She has one more little one than I do, is not "good" at running, and she was still finding a way to exercise! 

Just knowing that she was doing it, was all I needed!  She changed my world.  There was other fruit from the time spent together as well, and I found myself marveling at the impact she made on me in the span of a morning.

It just so happens that my boys and I have had a lot of friend time this week, and I felt similarly inspired and challenged after each encounter.  Feeling very blessed in friendship, pondering the impact of those friendships, and making concrete changes in my life because of them was the perfect thought environment to enter into the Living Life With Passion and Purpose talk by Matthew Kelly I attended yesterday.

He had a lot of compelling things to say about the voice of God, personal clarity, Jesus, and being who you should be, and I plan to ponder them for some time.  I highly encourage you to check him out if you are looking to change your life in a powerful and positive way. 

One of the things that really stuck with me was the idea of a Spectrum of Engagement.  In any given area of our life (marriage, parenting, work, play) we engage anywhere from 100% to not-at-all.  "We engage or disengage in EVERYTHING we do".  He discussed what their research has shown about the two qualities highly engaged people always have:

1.  They're committed to continuous learning.
2.  They're hungry for best practices.  (Who's the best in the world at this and what can I learn from them?)

He also discussed the idea of universal talent vs. unique talent.  Universal talent is something we can all do.  Our universal talent is the ability to make a difference in other people's lives.  But, because we all have it, we tend to de-value it.  This is in contrast to unique talent (being exceptional at something), which is the type of talent our culture is obsessed with.  "Our culture takes what's important and makes it trivial, and takes what's trivial and makes it important."

These ideas took me back to thinking about my friends.  My friends are highly engaged people.  Only I never would have thought to label them before.  This is what attracts me to them.  This is why they challenge and inspire me.  This is why I need to make a better effort (which in my case, is any), to spend time with them. 

I am the beneficiary of my friends' universal talent - Their ability to make a difference in the lives of others, and specifically, my own.  In my conscious thought, if I could choose between being the best in the world at something, or having the power to impact another's life for good, I would choose the second.  Every time.

But, in my subconscious mind, it is easy to fantasize about the first and overlook the second.  The "bests" in the world are easy to envy.  Their lives are so "pretty" from the outside.  But, this past week with my friends, and listening to Matthew Kelly reminded me of the power contained in friendship.

Fr. Scott Reilly says, "Every person is a world.  Change one person, you change a world." 

I don't know who is the best in the world at being a wife, a mother, or a friend.  But, I know who are the best in my world, and that's all I need to know.


Dear Heavenly Father,

Thank you for my friends, and the power of their example!!  Thank you for the opportunity to listen to Matthew Kelly speak yesterday and the seeds that were planted.  Thank you for friends who reach out, even and especially when it's not "their turn".  Please forgive my selfishness and lack of generosity.  Please help me to value what is important, devalue what is trivial, and know the difference.  Thank you for couch to 5K phone apps, and rosaries on podcast.  Thank you for Sundays and the freedom we have in this country to worship You without fear.  I love You and I thank You from the bottom of my heart for giving me companions on this journey who make me better.  Amen.

A Concussion and an "F" for Trust

Happy Father's Day to you and yours!  It's been a good one for us.  Sleeping in, Mass, and eating out make for a pretty great day.  I also emailed my Dad the links to my posts where I wrote about him (A "Rough" Life - A Tribute to my Grandma, Uncle, and my Dad).  He doesn't do blogs, but it occurred to me that he might better understand how much I love and respect him if he could read what I had written.  He was deeply moved, printed it off, and put it in his Bible.  Happy Fathers Day, Dad.

Two weeks ago today, my husband (and the father of my children) got a concussion when he and his skateboard parted ways.  I was at the swimming pool (roughly 100 yards away) when it happened.  My oldest son came and told me "Dad has a concussion, but he's fine.  He's up and walking around".  I clambered out of the pool to go see what in the world was going on.

As I was gathering our stuff, my husband walked into the pool, saying he thinks he has a concussion, was seeing stars, and half of his vision was blurry.  He wasn't really sure what happened or if he lost consciousness, so I sat him down on the pool steps and went to investigate.  What I found was a pool of blood in the bottom of the skate bowl.  At the time, I couldn't find any witnesses, so I assumed he was knocked out because he laid there long enough to make a puddle of blood (from his elbow) the size of my footprints.

I did my best to wash the blood away and we loaded up to go home.  He had virtually no memory of the day and began to ask a series of questions, which went something like this..."What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious?  What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious? What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious? What happened?  Was I awesome?  Did anyone see?   Was I unconscious?..." 

You get the idea.  I worked for an ambulance service for 6 years, so I knew he had a concussion at least, and was worried he might have bleeding in his brain.  I waited for a couple of hours to see if his symptoms (repetitive questioning and memory loss) would improve, but they persisted. 

To make a long story short, we ended up in the ER.  He had a CAT scan which showed no bleeding on his brain and he got three stitches in his elbow.  He took the following day off of work for "brain rest".  Aside from a sore neck and elbow, and a little light sensitivity, he was back to good. 

But, then I wasn't so good.  The more I thought about what happened, the more I had my own series of thoughts that went something like this...

"It freaks me out that my husband was lying unconscious (or something close to it) 100 yards away from me and I didn't have any idea.  I guess I always thought that if something happened to him I would somehow know.  A gut check or something.  Nope.  Nothin'.  What if it was worse?  What if his brain had bled, and he had a stroke or an aneurysm?  What if he had broken his neck?  If he died, financially we would be able to make it, but if he's disabled and it didn't happen at work, we'd have nothing.  I am totally dependent on him and his good health.  This vulnerability feels like crap. Should I get a full-time job?..."

This went on for about two days.  I was pulling back emotionally and he knew it.  He was telling me not to dwell on what could of happened, and that I couldn't love him any less because of some dumb accident.  But, I was trying to.  I don't want to be physically, emotionally, psychologically, and financially dependent on someone who could check out at any minute!  I told him he was a liability, and he was quick to let me know that I was one, too.  Then, he said something to the effect of, that's what happens when you get married...

Hmmm....

Good point.  He would be in as much of a fix if something happened to me, as I would be if something happened to him.  Not for a paycheck, but for someone to run the household and take care of the kiddos, and all of the other things wives do. 

After this conversation, and by God's grace, I started to realize that the only problem I had was a trust problem.  In the unusual circumstance of seeing my husband incapacitated, I withdrew my trust from God, and put it in myself.  Only, I quickly realized how drastically short I came from being able to provide the solution that I was trusting myself for.  If this whole scenario was a test for my trust in God, I'd have a Big 'ol "F" over here...

As Providence would have it, one of the Mass readings during this time was from Tobit 2:9-14.  In the story, Tobit became blind for four years after some birds pooped on his eyes.  (I'm not making this up!)  Eventually, his wife weaved cloth and provided for the family, and life went on...

Duh. 

God has provided for me for 35 years.  Some of those years, he provided for me through my parents.  Others, I provided for myself.  For the last 10 years, my husband has provided for me and our family.  If something were to happen to him (God forbid!), God would continue to provide for me.  Yes, it would look different.  Very, very different.  But, I would have what I need.  Just like I always have.

It is a paradox to be sure, but our security is our vulnerability.  It doesn't matter if I like it.  It's just the way it is.

Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat [or drink], or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?  Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are not you more important than they?  Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?   Matthew 6:25-27

Dear Heavenly Father, Happy Father's Day!!!  Thank you for being The Father of fathers, King of kings, and Lord of lords!  Thank you for fathers who help us believe in You and Your love for us.  Thank you for my husband and the way my kids will emulate him even before they recognize his greatness.  Thank you for his health and the big lesson in humility and trust, when it was compromised, even for a short time.  Please bless him with good health and a long life. 

Lord, please draw near to those who don't know what a good father is.  Make Yourself known to them!  Please grant the grace of forgiveness to those who need it. 

Abba, I love You.  Thank You for loving us first!  Make us love You more and more.  Amen.

Cigarette Burns and Pooping in the Bedroom

I'm thinking I'd rather be in bed right now, but I have too many details from other people's lives swirling around in my head (again).  I have a friend who marvels at how the world is big enough to hold all of the stories that it contains.  I'm starting to wonder the same thing.

My boys were eager to get back to the skate park after being out of town for a few days, so we headed up this afternoon with a cooler of drinks in tow.  Bringing food and drinks for the skaters was part of the resolution we made at my last women's meeting, in an effort to "love the sinner, but hate the sin".  It sounds presumptuous and judgmental even to write it.  Of course, skating is not sinful, but there are a lot of other things that often go with the skating lifestyle...Sex, drugs, rock and roll?, rebellion, tattoos/piercings and language that would make a sailor blush. 

They're not worse sinners than me, or people who dress well, or people who keep their lips buttoned.  They're just not so careful about covering it up.  Sort of refreshing in its own way, if you think about it.  The point is that these kids need love like everyone else on the planet.  They're just not (always) the most approachable or easy to love. 

I took my seat at a picnic table, and in 5 minutes, (I think my little guys were inviting them) there were 6 dudes at my table throwing back drinks and talking to me for the first time.  I'd seen several of them before, and one was quick to say "Y'all are the coolest parents that come up here."  And I thought I'd been invisible every time...

Most of them came and went, but two stuck around.  It didn't take long to notice the (nine) cigarette burns running down the right side of the skinny, shirtless one.  As I was talking to him, I kept thinking how he looked like Jesus.  Not just because we're supposed to see Jesus in everybody, but for real.  His hair was dark and almost shoulder length, and his eyes were honest.  I told him he had great hair.  He said "thanks", showed me how he couldn't get his fingers through it, and shared his dreadlock plans with me. 

In short time, I learned he's almost 20.  He lives with a roommate (who has nine cigarette burns down his left side) and his anti-social girlfriend.  Their self-inflicted cigarette burns are a memorial to their friend who died when he was hit by a train.  Apparently, he convinced eighteen friends to burn him with cigarettes, so they each did half in his memory. 

He has one brother and thirteen sisters.  They are mostly "half" sisters, because his mother was a "crack whore", so their dads are all different.  They were all eventually adopted by the same family, but they "never really cared what I did".  He said the best piece of advice he's ever received was, "You only live once, so you better enjoy it the first time around."  I countered with the idea that there are a lot of things that are good for you that don't necessarily feel good.  He acquiesced, but followed with, "But, only if you have to."

His goodness came through when we started talking about the three-year-old boy I've seen up there.  He said he saw somebody give him a cigarette once.  It was the only time he beat somebody up.  "You don't give cigarettes to a three-year-old."  Agreed.  He went back to skating and circled around every time he got thirsty.   

The other guy made me want to cry...
After describing himself as a "roller coaster addict", he painstakingly described a "Haunted Adventure" house experience, and said we should never go.  I very sincerely told him that we wouldn't.  Little by little, the conversation moved from this scary fake experience to his scary real experience.  He jumped around between mission school this, and group home that.  There was something about how he and his sister were left beside a Georgia highway when he was a baby, and his struggles with a learning disability.  Later on, he and his sister were adopted, but only to be sexually and mentally abused.  His adoptive mother locked them in their rooms and wouldn't let them out.  "If I had to go #1 or #2, I had to go in my bedroom because she wouldn't let us out."  He and his sister communicated through an air vent.  They were eventually put in foster care and bounced around the system. 

He pulled up his shirt to show me his rose tattoo in honor of Lady Gaga.  Apparently, he's a big fan, she has something similar, and that is good enough for him. His vulnerability was palpable, and when he showed me that he knew the alphabet in sign language, I could see his hand trembling.  He is 24-years-old.  He is looking for a job and planning to start school in the Fall.  He lives with a lady who ran a group home where he previously lived, and her children.  He affectionately calls her Mom. He attends Church with her dad.  He knows he makes mistakes, he knows God forgives him, and believes "I am a man of God." 

My sons were "in and out" during these conversations, but my 8-year-old caught on that the second guy had suffered a lot and heard me repeat something I heard Mother Angelica say once. "When we are suffering, that is when we are most like Christ.  If we are not like Him at any other time, we are like Him when we are suffering."  To this, my son said, "I guess I've suffered."  I said, "No, you haven't."  He said, "I've suffered a little.  My great-grandmother just died."  I said, "Yes, but you didn't suffer."  And he said, "I guess I wasn't really that sad."  Right.

I vacillate between thinking it is and isn't good for my kids to be at the skate park.  Today, it was good.  It was good because they got to see that these kids are "nice".  Even if they use bad language or have metal in their face.  It was good because my oldest son heard about real suffering, and consequently, realized that he has not really suffered.  Having parents who love you enough to make you go to bed at night, chores here and there, and something other than your favorite food for dinner is not suffering.  In lieu of going to Africa to appreciate what we have, I think we'll be going back to the skate park.  We still have a lot to learn.


Dear God, I don't know how I continue to meet so many people with such painful and incredible stories.  I can only assume that you are "hooking us up", so thank you for the privilege of being on the listening end.  Lord, have mercy on these kids, and on their parents, who will have to give an account for them on the day they meet You face to face.  Please, give me the grace to show them Your Goodness, Truth, Light, and Love.  Thank you for my Regnum Christi sister, Robye, who provided the drinks I brought today, and all of those who spur me on in my faith.  God, bless us all.  Amen. 

Unfinished Business

The last two days have given me a lot to think about.  I'm dumbfounded.  Maybe it is a good thing God only lets us see a little bit at a time... 

Case #1:  My boys are becoming very interested in skateboarding, so we've been hitting the skate park after dinner.   Last night, I noticed a very little boy who was surprisingly proficient on a scooter and a little girl hanging out behind one of the jumps.  I didn't see any parents, but assumed, since the kids were so young, that they were close by. 

I saw them again tonight, and unfortunately, I was wrong.  The young girl wandered over to our game of tennis, so I invited her to join us.  I asked her where her Mom was.  She said, "She's not really around here."  After a few more questions from me, I learned that her Mom lives in Southgate (a low-income apartment complex), but she is living with the other kids who are her cousins and their parents, across the street from the skate park.  Apparently, tonight, the parents were in Snook - a little town 16 miles from here, and the oldest cousin (a teenage girl) was in charge of the others (ages 12, 7, and 3-the little boy on the scooter).  . 

It was a little after 8pm, so I told her we were going to have to go, because it was bedtime.  She said, "It's 8:00?  My bedtime is 8:30."  I told her "You better go soon, too, so you can get to bed on time."  Then, she told me, "I can't.  When the parents leave, we can't get in the house", proceeded to name all of the doors that were locked, and said "Maybe 1:00".  I said, "1:00 in the morning?!"  She nodded.

I felt sick as I packed up our tennis gear, imagining those little kids "stuck" at the skate park for any length of time, let alone until 1:00 in the morning!  I wanted to take her with me (and her 3-year-old cousin, too), but I couldn't figure out how to get around the inevitable kidnapping charge.  Instead, I thanked her for playing with us, and she ambled away.  I couldn't believe I was leaving her and her 3-year-old cousin there.  The very-foul language and sometimes overt sexuality at the skate park make me uncomfortable.  My mind raced as we went home and I put my own boys in bed. 

After bedtime prayers and kisses goodnight, I drove back up to the skate park and had a look around.  I decided that if I couldn't take those kids to my house and put them to bed, I could at least call the police, and get somebody on the job.  Fortunately, the kids were nowhere around, and I turned around and went home. 

I don't know if anything will come of it, but they are definitely on my "radar".  There are soccer moms, classroom moms, hockey moms, you-name-it...  Where are the skateboard moms?!!

Case #2:  I received a voicemail from the Church office yesterday, with details of a lady who was asking if anyone could bring her groceries, and whether the transportation ministry (which I coordinate) could help.  However, earlier that morning, a friend unexpectedly picked up my 4-year-old for an overnighter, so I was really looking forward to a full day of FREEDOM.

I tried to ignore the voicemail (reasoning that it was likely a lady I already know), and finished up some paperwork that I needed to take to the Church anyway.  When I dropped the paperwork off, the secretary in the Church office told me that the lady needing groceries had already called back three times, thinking that she'd missed the call.  Ugh. 

I walked out to my car, trying to decide which chunk of my freedom I wanted to lose - to run an errand for someone I didn't know.  I reluctantly picked up my phone and called her, hoping that she could wait one more day.  I didn't ask her, but she couldn't.  Her daughter was sick, and she wanted to make some soup to get her well.  I took down her list and headed to HEB.

Have you ever grocery shopped for someone you didn't know?  What brand of bouillon do they like?  What is "sweet bread" if it isn't the Hawaiian kind?  Did you know Nescafe comes in cinnamon and dark roast?  Are store brand instant potatoes as good as name brand? 

After marking through everything on her list, and getting my list, too, I was on my way.  I knocked on the front door, and stood there with grocery sacks up my arms.  I waited, but no one came.  I rang the doorbell, and no one came.  I started walking around the house, and I saw her.

I don't mean to be stereotypical, but she looked like one of those kind-eyed, short-in-stature, 80-year-old ladies from the Himalayas, smiling for a National Geographic photographer.  She insisted on taking some of the groceries from my arms, and I retrieved more.  She kept saying "You're an angel, You're an angel" and told me how she started "praying and praying" after she called all of the grocery stores, and churches, and found out no one delivers. 

We piled all of the groceries on the dryer in the musty garage, and I asked about her daughter.  She quickly and quietly said, "Aca! Aca!" and ushered me into the house.  Laundry was piled up all around the perimeter of the living room, like a laundry service with hills of white sheets, and water was running full blast in the bathroom.  She apologized for the house, and led me to a very thin lady laying in a chair in the middle of the room, with her feet propped up on an end table. 

She roused her 50-year-old daughter who she described as being very weak, after vomiting for days last week, after eating something.  Her daughter was now unable to walk, and she thought some soup might help her get some strength back.  The daughter half-smiled, made brief eye contact, and thanked me for coming, at her mother's insistence.  She had not been to the doctor, and I'm not sure why. 

My lady was eager to fix the soup.  I offered to take her daughter to the hospital, if the soup didn't help.  She said she would call me if she needed help, paid me $77 for the groceries (plus $23 for the Church, and $10 for my gas), and I left.  I kept wondering if I should have pushed harder to take her daughter to the hospital, but I had to get home to meet my kids after school.

I fully expected to hear from her today.  I didn't hear anything and called twice with no answer.  Tonight, to my chagrin, my husband informed me of a recent E.coli outbreak in our area.  If I can't get her on the phone tomorrow, I'm going to see if I can track them down at one of the local hospitals... 

In both of these circumstances, I feel powerless.  Instead of having the ability to tie up the loose ends with a pretty bow, I'm restricted to this little desk, writing to you.  I hope my sharing will help you go to these places with me.  Entering into another person's world is a tremendous privilege.  Even, and especially if it is unsettling to do so.

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for beautiful weather, friends who love my kids, and the world wide web.  Thank you for meeting and surpassing my needs and expectations.  Lord, my heart is heavy tonight for the kids growing up at the skate park, and the lady with the sick daughter.  You know where they are, and you know what they need.  Please make Your Presence known to them.  Thank you for using us to answer another's prayers.  Thank you for a conscience that doesn't let selfishness dictate every move.  Thank you for the generosity and joy of the lady, who was so happy to give, though it seemed like she needed what she was giving.  Thank you for allowing encounters with the "poor in spirit".  They teach me everything I need to know.  I'm sorry I hesitated at the opportunity to receive what you were offering.  Please grant me the grace to love You and my neighbor with all my heart, according to Your will.  I love You, and know You are near.  Amen.   

Gossip and Correction

Most of us are a little uncomfortable correcting one another.  This topic comes up a lot, because we're confused about the right course of action.  Until now.  I attended a Morning of Reflection two weeks ago; Gossip 2.0 - Fraternal Correction was the topic.  Fr. Michael Sullivan, LC deftly led us through this touchy subject.  Following are my notes from that morning, based on Fr. Michael's presentation, which he compiled based on St. Thomas Aquinas' Summa:

Matthew 18:15-17

If your brother sins [against you], go and tell him his fault between you and him alone.  If he listens to you, you have won over your brother.  If he does not listen, take one or two others along with you, so that 'every fact may be established on the testimony of two or three witnesses.'  If he refuses to listen to them, tell the church.  If he refuses to listen even to the church, then treat him as you would a Gentile or a tax collector.

~  Fraternal correction is the antidote to gossip

~Gripes should always go up the chain of command, not down.

~How do you correct a brother/sister?  Fraternal correction is charitable.  Sin is harmful to the sinner and conducive to harming others.  The first goal is improvement of the sinner by driving out evil to procure good (protection from himself).  The second goal is to safeguard justice for the common good.

Note:  Negative precepts DO NOT have exceptions.  ie.  Thou shall not kill, Thou shall not commit adultery, etc..  For any act: consider the object, circumstance, and purpose.  If any part is wrong, it is ALL wrong.

~Can one sinner correct another?  Yes!  Sin doesn't deprive us of all right judgment.

~When we have to find fault with anyone, consider if you have also committed the same sin and that we are all weak.

~Should you correct a person who will become worse for the correction?  No!  If the person will not heed warning, omit the correction.  It is no longer a good.

~Secret correction should always precede public correction.

~Practice prudence:
1.  Counsel - Seek advice from the wise.
2.  Judgment - Make the call.
3.  Action - Do it.

~Speak of someone as if they were present.

~Believe all the good you hear, and only the evil you see.

~Avoid being triangulated.  Take yourself out of the position of authority if two friends are using you as a referee or mediator.

~All truths do not have to be communicated in all circumstances.

~Be wary of neglect and micro-management.

~When we correct peer to peer, it is charity.  When correction takes place from the top down, it is justice.  (end of notes)

I hope this helps you.  It was a great morning, and clarified many things for me.  Feel free to ask questions in the comments section, if you need further clarification.  We covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time, so I hope my notes are sufficient. 

A few other quotes on gossip to keep in mind the damaging potential of this easy-to-engage-in sin:

The slanderer commits three murders:  his own soul, the soul of he who listens, and civil death to the object of his slander.  When you hear evil of anyone, cast any doubt you can.  If that is impossible, make any available excuse for the culprit.  If not possible, be pitiful and compassionate, and remind those you are speaking to, that such as stand upright do so solely with God's grace.  Do your best to kindly check the scandal bearer, and if you know anything favorable to the person criticized, take pains to mention it.  - Introduction to the Devout Life, St. Francis de Sales

When I want to speak, let me think first.  Is it kind?  Is it true?  Is it necessary?  If not, let it be left unsaid.  -Babcock

Let thy words be few.  -Ecclesiastes 5:2

A good test for conversation:  If you wouldn't write it and sign your name to it, don't say it.

Dear Heavenly Father,  Thank you for this beautiful day.  Thank you for giving us many helps when we try to apply Your Word to our lives.  Please grant us wisdom and prudence when we see our brother sinning or are privy to gossip.  Lord, we do not want to be an obstacle for anyone in their walk with You.  Help us to act out of love, pure intention, and humility.  Amen. 

Valentine's Day - The Un-Hallmark Version

I am looking forward to dinner and a date with my husband tonight.  Today is (should be) special for all couples, but it is especially special for us because it is the anniversary of the day we met.  Yes, I believe in Providence. 

I am thankful for the 3 years that have passed since this journal entry that make sharing this once painful day, a joy and a part of history.

February 14, 2010 – Valentine’s Day

Sunday 1:47pm 

I just put the boys down for a nap and I need to sort a few things out in my head, so here goes…  This morning, I gave Brett a book, a card, and some chocolates for V-Day.  He didn’t want to open it until he came back from San Antonio (which he was leaving for today), so we could have a mutual gift exchange.  I wasn’t expecting a gift, but I wasn’t expecting nothing, either.  He said instead of going out and getting me something yesterday, he thought it was more important that he come home, so I could leave and have some time to myself.  After a little disappointment, I started thinking about what was bothering me the most, and it was that he didn’t admit that he just didn’t make the effort.  After all, he is a logistics man and the day before Valentine’s Day isn’t the only day to come up with something…my favorite thing in the whole world is a handwritten note from him (and he knows this). 

If he had given it very much thought at all – he could have given me what I value most.  Even if he had put it off until this morning, he was up almost 2 hours before me.  The way I see it is that it just wasn’t important to him this year.  I can deal with that better than him not admitting it.  So, after wrestling with letting it go, or letting him know, I called him.  He was quick to point out that he took Friday off and had to work an extra long/hard day on Thursday to do so.  Furthermore, he gets very little time to himself (one Saturday a month since November for shooting - He didn’t mention his lunch breaks and the opportunity to work out).  

Then, he told me he had some things to get off of his chest, too.  He thinks I’ve been pretty self-absorbed lately and listed the following:  going to Lauren’s (one Friday night for a few hours), time practicing music with Tomas, my rugs, and going to have coffee with Becca.  This is almost the entire list of things I do, which are not taking care of my children or house.  The only thing that is missing is the occasional hour at Lick Creek Park to walk the dog.  I think it is of note that my music practice and coffee with Becca are all after the kids are in bed (or on their way), and this is not an accident.  I don’t think he is self-absorbed for wanting to go shooting (even 3 times a month – it just gets too expensive).  So this leaves me with the question, “Am I self-absorbed?” 

Probably so.  Day in and day out, I wrestle with wanting some time alone, doing my own thing.  I try to give my kids as much of me as I can without being resentful.  When I start to feel resentful, the only thing I know to do, is to try to put something back in my own cup – by working on rugs, going for a walk, or playing music.  Mother Teresa says any time we have lost our peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.  I think it is true (but often forget) that my time belongs to my children as much as it belongs to me.  It is a constant battle to put that into practice.  However, I don’t think that because Brett has to watch the kids from time to time - to accommodate me - makes me self-absorbed. 

I would love a quiet evening in a hotel room.  I haven’t been ALONE (without Brett or the kids) for more than 24 hours at one time since Brayton was born (in 5 years).  He has been deployed multiple times since our marriage, gone on many work trips, has had the house to himself on at least 2 different occasions when I’ve taken the kids to KS, and is getting ready to have the house to himself for a week.  He gets time for reflection and to gain perspective on things at home, even when he’s not doing “his own thing”.  Being away helps you appreciate things at home and to love your family better.  I have not “been away.”  I know I could do better and be better, but there are times I feel like I am totally losing myself, and since I can’t leave (for more than a couple of hours), I turn inward.   

I’m not sure where to go from here…I’m a solution-oriented person, but I feel like only half of the problem lies with me.  I can find ways to “be okay” with not getting more time to myself.  Time spent outside and little adventures with the boys feel like “my time”, too.  But, I don’t know how to handle the perception of being self-absorbed, when I do anything for myself.  All I do know, is that my life is not about me 90% of the time, as it shouldn’t be.  Our lives are supposed to be about other people, so my prayer is for this to come more easily with each passing day…that I will not lose my peace. (end)

Dear God of Love,  Thank you for Brett, the man you chose for me before I was knit in my mother's womb.  Thank you for ignorance of the day and hour I was going to meet him.  If I would have known, I would have been a nervous wreck, and he might have changed his mind!  Thank you for rich people who hired a girl like me and made it easy to move far away from home.  Thank you for the hilltop outside Mountain Home, TX, where our lives were changed forever.  Thank you that real love stories aren't confined to Hollywood.  Thank you for allowing us to meet You, through our spouse, in marriage.  Thank you for unconditional love.  Please be near to those today who have not experienced it.  If there is no one else, please let the love of a stranger break into their world, and hint at Your love for them.  You are an awesome, generous, and loving God.  I love You and I know You love me.  Amen. 

 

Refuse To Be Checked In Your Upward Climb

I'm really going to try not to copy the entire God Calling book one reflection at a time, but some things are too good, too important, and too inspiring not to be shared.  Enjoy, again, Christ's words to the two little, old ladies (and to us):

"You are to help save others.  Never let one day pass when you have not reached out an arm of Love to someone outside your home - a note, a letter, a visit, help in some way.

Be full of Joy.  Joy saves.  Joy cures.  Joy in Me.  In every ray of sunlight, every smile, every act of kindness, or love, every trifling service - joy.

Each day do something to lift another soul out of the sea of sin, or disease or doubt into which man has fallen.  I still walk to-day by the lakeside and call My Disciples to follow Me and to become fishers of men. 

The helping hand is needed that raises the helpless to courage, to struggle, to faith, to health.  Love and laugh.  Love and laughter are the beckoners to faith and courage and success.  Trust on, love on, joy on.

Refuse to be downcast.  Refuse to be checked in your upward climb.  Love and laugh.  I am with you.  I bear your burdens.  Cast your burden upon Me and I will sustain thee.  And then in very lightheartedness you turn and help another with the burden that is pressing too heavily upon him or her.

How many burdens can you lighten this year?  How many hearts can you cheer?  How many souls can you help?

And in giving you gain: 'Good measure, pressed down and running over.'  I your Lord have said it."

The Influence of a Single Soul

If you tried to "read the eternal thought which God the Creator and Father had in your regard" (to paraphrase George Weigel), what would that look like for you?  Which parts of your life are closest to what you think He envisions for you, and which parts are the farthest away?  What can you change, today, to inch closer?

If everyone has something to do for God, as Pope John Paul II tells us, what is your "something to do"?  Who are the people you see and interact with in your daily life?  Have you considered that it is likely you are affecting them (hopefully in a positive way), with your mere presence?

The influence exercised by a person is something subtle, penetrating; its strength cannot be measured.  What powerful preaching there can be in simple contact with a soul!  One single soul can change the whole moral atmosphere surrounding it by its solitary light.  ~Elizabeth Leseur

We can lead people (and be led by them) to Christ without any awareness on our part.  According to St. Augustine, this kind of "leading" was a huge part of his conversion.  Regarding Bishop Ambrose, he writes, "To him I was led by you (God) without my knowledge, so that by him I might be led to you (God) in full knowledge."

We can lead each other through our personal encounters and through prayer.  Thomas Merton relays his experience of being delivered from eternal condemnation through the efforts of an unknown soul:  "...my soul was rotten with the corruption of my sins...What is more, there was nothing I could do for myself.  There was absolutely no means, no natural means for getting me out of that state.  Only God could help me.  Who prayed for me?  One day I shall know.  But, in the economy of God's love, it is through the prayers of other men that those graces were given.  It was through the prayers of someone who loved God that I was, one day, to be delivered out of that hell where I was already confined without knowing it."

We are called to offer sacrifices for ourselves and others, so we can all grow in holiness; our pursuit of God's will.  We can do this in an infinite number of ways, but here are just a few ideas (as discussed in class earlier today) to get the ball rolling:
1.  Praying for our enemies (or anyone who just annoys us and all of those in between)
2.  Being wrongly accused for something without blowing up like a fanatical monster
3.  Taking care of parents and/or young children
4.  Doing things that we can't do well (Hold on pride, this one's going to hurt!)
5.  Doing anything else that you get no (zero, none, zilch) satisfaction out of, whatsoever, for the love of God and your neigbor (everybody you know, but yourself).

Dear Heavenly Father, Thank you for leading us to yourself through others who have no idea they are doing so.  Thank you, also, for a turn at the lead.  What an incredible gift to assist another in their journey to You!  It is mind-boggling that this awesome "activity for eternity" is so well-hidden!  Amazing to think that one person can be leading, while another is being led, and yet, neither one knows a thing about it!  This must be another component of your mercy.  We could very well be filled up with ourselves if we knew our own influence.  Thank you for your wisdom in not allowing that to happen, because we need room for You!  As Mother Teresa told us, "Even God Himself cannot fill what is already full."  Thank you, Lord, for the emptiness that we must carry in this life, for that is Your home, until we get to the place You have prepared for us.  Amen."

Celebrating 10 Years of Marriage - Lessons Learned

Yesterday was my 10th wedding anniversary.  We celebrated with a delicious, fancy, and romantic dinner out and my husband blessed me with a beautiful bouquet of red roses midday.  Being the practical woman that I am, I would always rather save the money spent on a dozen roses, but it wasn't my call; I love the thoughtfulness and effort, and they sure look pretty on my atrium table. 

Brett has made me a better woman.  He has shown me what "showing up" no matter what looks like.  Through his steadfast example and God's grace, he has helped me overcome myself, my fear of alcohol, and fear of being left behind.  I've learned a lot in 10 years; some things were welcomed at the time, others not.

After reviewing my sporadic journaling for the past decade, I created a list of lessons learned.  This is, a soul laid bare, with the confidence that something of my experience will resonate with you, and that you will be edified.

 

Lessons Learned

 

December 6, 1998 - I need to learn to make myself happy and not rely on other people. 

 

June 2, 2001 - I’ve realized that alcohol is really a problem for me.  I have learned to tolerate it from my family, but, I don’t have to accept it in someone I am choosing to be with. 

 

June 6, 2002 - One of the greatest travesties in life, is working (and spending a large part of your life) doing something you do not enjoy and for which you are not appreciated!

~Married on November 9, 2002~ 

January 27, 2003 - Married life is different, in that, you start spending more time alone – even though you are together.  I’m still trying to get used to this phenomenon.  I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room with someone else (in my home) and not be interacting with them in some way, on some level.  The only times I remember anything similar is being with Mike W. and getting the silent treatment.  I guess that is partly why when I am mad, I get quiet, and assume the converse is true…when someone else gets quiet, they’re also mad…Oh, the things we have to unlearn… I’m learning more about myself all of the time.  Never before, have I had such a constant “mirror” if you will, held in front of me.  Another person’s attitude and responses resulting from my actions is, sometimes, a startling picture of the range of emotions that I can carry/experience in a very short amount of time.  I assume it has always been this way, the only difference being that I am not the only one I affect.  I have another half now to whom I am affected by and affect in return.  We are the sum of our experiences, as I was told today.  Nothing is going to change that.  Some days, that is a hard fact to live with.  Other days, it just is.

 

June 6, 2003 - I am continually amazed as I think back over my life about the times when a change has felt imminent or necessary, yet, seems impossible for logistical and financial reasons if nothing else.  And yet, the Lord continues to open the next door at the perfect time and after walking through it, everything just falls into place.

 

I’m sure this is the next normal phase in a relationship – the lustful, enamored stage has faded away and what’s left is what’s real.  I’m sure this is when some people feel like they are falling out of love.  In fact, I’ve brought that up, too.  In reality, I think love changes and as every married person I’ve known has said “It’s work.”  The little things crop up more and more frequently.  I guess the learning curve is still existent here.  I think that’s why people say the first year is the hardest.  It involves learning to live with someone (whom you are otherwise not related to), what their likes, dislikes, pet peeves, real anger triggers, modes of dealing with unpleasant things/feelings, and intolerances and learning these things about yourself at the same time.  Going to bed together rarely happens it seems and it doesn’t seem to matter.  I guess we’re learning to be independent of one another under the same roof.  This is altogether new and different, but probably for the best.  I miss feeling like I’m his world, but it could not last forever.  I feel as disconnected from him as I have been (except for the moments when I’ve felt distant from the entire world secondary to some perceived wrong).  I’m sure it is natural and probably healthy, but it is still an adjustment.  Time and prayer are my allies.

February 27, 2004 - It’s hard to leave yourself at someone else’s mercy, even if he is your unfailing husband.  I guess, much like everything else that is uncomfortable at the time we are experiencing it – is character building.

 

June 7, 2004 - I guess the point that needs to be realized if someone is asking (if you mind if they do such and such), they want to hear yes and in order to avoid conflict, a 100% yes is the only smooth road…Otherwise, I guess it is best to be true about feelings and if anyone feels slighted by the end results, it won’t be because your feelings weren’t known…“Above all else, to thine own self be true”, immediately comes to mind, but, I don’t think this philosophy has a place in Christian marriage:  sacrificing for one another, putting your spouse first, etc…

 

April 16, 2005 - I have a very strong primeval instinct about Brett being in the company of other women who are within 10 years or so, on either side of him; essentially breeding age, I guess.  I wonder if most women have this instinct, only to a lesser degree?  I don’t think most women are like me in this regard…  However, I know it is the thing I hate most about myself and do not admit to it easily – to myself, much less to others.  So, in the future, until this instinct dies (God willing), I am going to admit to myself what it is and admit it to Brett (he already knows anyway).

 

May 16, 2005 - It’s Monday and I’m wondering what I’m supposed to be doing.  The only thing I feel 100% certain of is that time spent with my son is time well-spent.  Not a moment is lost or untreasured.  If God were in the driver’s seat – Where would he be taking us?  What would he be doing in his free time?  I hardly think he would be reading a murder mystery and catching some rays.  What’s really important?  How can I have a whole day and not know what I am supposed to do?!  Our time here on earth is supposed to be spent getting ready to go to heaven…What am I supposed to do?  Spend the days with the lonely, poor, disadvantaged lot?  Where are they?  Who are they?  Am I supposed to study the Word all day long – looking for the answers to these questions?  God – Please let your will be done in my life…May I be your light in the world.  Please shine through me, Lord.  I Love You!  Fixing fences, mowing lawns, cleaning house…Are we wasting precious time?

 

August 5, 2005 – Friday Night 

I want to say how unspecial he makes me feel

My thoughts can be fleeting, but they still feel so real. 

I didn’t know that dullness

Could be sharper than a spear

Thank God for my baby and motherhood

To keep my heart in a working gear.

 

 

November 10th, 2012 - Dear God, Creator of earthly and eternal covenants, Thank you for the gift of marriage, and specifically, my husband.  Thank you for the times that my cup has overflowed with joy, contentment, attention, and a sense of all being right with the world.  Thank you, also, for the Friday night on August 5th, for all the times I ached for love, and times when I have been burdened with a sense of confusion or betrayal.  Thank you for the hurts and hard truths that harvest more fruit than anything that feels good at the time (specifically not being needed, but wanted).

 

Please help me be the wife that Brett needs, to encourage him to be the godly man that you envisioned, before you knit him in his mother's womb.  He has made me a better woman through his love and fidelity.  He, more than any other, helps me to believe in Your love for me.  Please bless him abundantly for his faithfulness and love.  Amen. 

 

 

 

Waiting In Line at the Salvation Army

This morning I took a friend to the Salvation Army to get food.  You can get free food there once a month if you qualify financially.  Today was our third attempt.  Last week, they were closed.  Yesterday, the line was too long.  And today, she forgot her ID.  She stood in line for almost an hour anyway, confident that they would recognize her or look at her file.  No such luck.  We left empty-handed.  Fortunately, I brought her a few things from my freezer, so I know she won't be going totally without.  But, this whole scenario has me thinking about the differences in our lives.

I've never had to wait in line to get food unless I was at a really popular restaurant.  I've never had to wait for a ride, to wait in line for food.  When you don't have financial means, you have to wait for just about everything.  Food and rides.  A ride to pick up your check.  A ride to cash the check.  A ride to the Salvation Army or St. Vincent de Paul.  A ride to the grocery store.  Add a physical and/or mental disability and you've got a very difficult life, full of waiting.

As I was waiting on the front lawn of the Salvation Army, playing hide-and-seek with my three-year-old, I watched a couple sitting on the step, looking through their grocery bags and smoking a cigarette while they waited for their ride to come pick them up. Then, I started thinking about the price of cigarettes.  I asked my friend, who also smokes, how much she spends on cigarettes per month.  She said probably around $40, and those are the cheap ones.  She wasn't sure of the value of the food she gets at Salvation Army, but I venture to say it is not more than $40 worth.

So, if these people didn't smoke, they could buy their own groceries instead of waiting in line to get them for free.  It would be easy to stop here.  "Don't give free food to people who smoke!"  Done.  But, as I sat there trying to squeeze my foot into one of their shoes, I realize that those forbidden cigarettes are probably the single source of pleasure in their life.  Aside from killing them slowly, cigarettes are the closest thing to an "escape" as they've got.  If they don't have transportation, they are probably stuck at home more often than not.  They are probably living in subsidized housing where pretty things are few and green grass is something of a myth.  There is no summer vacation or Spring Break.  There is no eating out if you don't feel like cooking.  It says something to me, when you can breathe easiest when you are inhaling something that will eventually kill you.

"Assistance to the unfortunate honors when it treats the poor man with respect, not only as an equal, but as a superior - since he is suffering perhaps we are incapable of suffering; since he is a messenger of God to us, sent to prove our justice and our charity..." 

"God did not make the poor.  He sends few human creatures into this world without providing them with those two basic sources of riches - intelligence and will.  But, we allow intelligence to be quenched in ignorance and will to be weakened by vice." 

"And let no one say that in treating poverty...we aim at perpetuating it.  The Authority that tells us we shall always have the poor amongst us is the same that commands us to do all that we can that poverty may cease to be."  -Frederic Ozanam, one of the founders of the Saint Vincent de Paul Society

I worked for the St. Vincent de Paul Society for a year and a half.  For me, working with the poor is a constant tottering between frustration and compassion.  It doesn't seem like things have to be so hard for these people, but they are.  I hope one day I will only have compassion and my frustration will be swallowed up by it.

"God does not value what the poor have, but what they do not have:  self-sufficiency, a closed attitude, a presumption of being able to save themselves." - Fr. Raneiro Cantalamessa

Dear Father of the Poor,  Thank you for the privelege of participating in the lives of the poor.  Thank you for their humility and trust in you.  Thank you for the ways you have blessed me so abundantly in my life.  Lord, please help me and all of those who serve your poor, to do so with a generous, compassionate, and loving heart.  Please remove any judgment that creeps in.  Thank you for teaching us in Your Word that we will be measured by the cup we measure with.  You always give us everything we need.  Help us to remember that we may be the hands you use to deliver it.  Amen.

My 35th Birthday

Today is my birthday.  35 years old.  I still feel like a pup.  For me, birthdays are like New Year's.   A great place for looking back over the year's blessings, and another great starting place for improving some aspect of my life.  It's easier to keep track of progress.  I'm giving up soda today - trying to decrease my sugar consumption.  I've been hearing (again) about how bad it is for your health.  It's one of the most obvious places for improvement, so I'm going with it.  I'm trying to increase my body's health, but decrease in other ways, so the Lord may increase in me.

The year's highlights include my first silent retreat and joining Regnum Christi, officially.  I have really learned the value of examination of conscience and it helps me live each day with greater focus.  I also had the joy of facilitating a couple of classes at Church and sharing the stuff of life with many beautiful women in the process.  Another thing that jumps out at me is consecrating myself to the Blessed Mother in May.  I haven't done anything differently because of that, but I feel good about putting myself in her hands.  I understand that I will remain there unless I make a conscious choice to remove myself, which I have no plans to do.  A couple of trips to Minnesota and the beach have been great, too.  I love going places and it really doesn't matter where.   

This was also the year for the beginning of this little "ministry" - my blog.  A Soul Laid Bare.  It seems to be helpful and encourage a small few.  Maybe 20-25 people on a regular basis.  My success is not mine to judge.  I know only God can make it fruitful.
 
The day has been beautiful!  A fruit plate for breakfast from my oldest, a chapel lamp lit (I still don't know who did that!), a Mass said, prayers offered in front of the Blessed Sacrament, cookie dough scented hand sanitizer from the neighbor boy, early morning phone calls from the fam, Facebook wishes out the wazoo (Thank you!), and a few birthday packages besides. 

As I was writing, someone just knocked on the door - It was my neighbor, Ms. Hannah.  She gave me a kente from Ghana (she bought it for me when she visited her homeland last summer!) and a wooden elephant.  Amazing, since we usually just smile and wave across the street to one another.  What a great surprise!!!

We'll eat dinner at home tonight and go out for Spoons later.  Life is good.  It seems like God is blessing me every time I turn around.

Overall, I am learning more and more that I am a small, but important piece of God's plan.  Thomas Merton sums it up well in his prologue of No Man Is An Island:

Only when we see ourselves in our true human context, as members of "one body" we will begin to understand the positive importance not only of the successes but of the failures and accidents in our lives.  My successes are not my own.  The way to them was prepared by others.  The fruit of my labors is not my own:  for I am preparing the way for the achievements of another.  Nor are my failures my own.  They may spring from the failure of another, but they are also compensated for by another's achievement.  Therefore, the meaning of my life is not to be looked for merely in the sum total of my own achievements...It is seen, above all, in my integration in the mystery of Christ...No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main.

Dear God, Thank you for my life!  Thank you for my parents who cooperated with you to bring me into existence.  Thank you for blessing me beyond all imagination.  Help me to be the woman, wife, mother, and friend that makes You happy and does Your will, no matter what.  I am overflowing with gratitude and love.  Amen.