So, I'm sorry its been so long since I've last posted...
In the words of Inigo Montoya, "Let me recap..No wait...Let me sum up."
We sold our home A LOT quicker than we thought we would. So we've been scrambling to find a house so that we could close on this place and close on that place in the same day. Well, the margin within that would feasably happen has come and gone, so now we've gone on to plan B...And then plan C...And D...And E...Okay, its been a roller coaster ride!
I've officially decided that I don't like AND I don't understand short sales. Our hopes have been dashed on one, it looks like we're about to be taken down by another. The banks, the realtors, no one in this Union understands what a short sale, and all these cooks who don't know how to read the recipe are in the kitchen! *sigh* so glad I got that off my chest.
So much has happened this past summer. I wish I could catch everyone up on it now, but I think I'll just pick up and move on from here, and work the details into my future posts.
Know that I've been thinking and praying for you all! I can't wait to catch up on all the blog reading I've missed!!!
Thursday, October 13, 2011
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
I'm Alive!!
Sorry I've not written. There's a ton going on right now, but I will catch up with you guys soon! Promise!
Friday, July 29, 2011
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Old MacDonald
So this is part prayer request, part ponderance on my part.
Mike and I are looking at houses. It's time. I'm sure some of my longer followers remember my first posts about getting a house. Well, we're back baby! There's a children's book that my mother used to read me called "It Could Always be Worse". It's a Jewish proverb about a man who goes to see a rabbi because his house has become too crowded. One by one, the rabbi instructs the man to bring his farm animals into the house to live with his family. It gets worse and worse, until the man almost breaks. Then the rabbi has the man put the animals back in the barn and for the first time in weeks, the family has a peaceful and quiet evening.
I think this is the story that God has played out in my family life thus far. We don't have farm animals (we have a cat), but we have 5 children in 900 square feet with 2 bedrooms. It would be okay as we've given up our room to the girls so that the 3 boys and 2 girls can sleep in separate rooms. But now that Mike works from home, he has taken over my kitchen during the day (which also doubles as my school room when the fall comes) to conduct his business. Being confined to the living room (and quiet with my 5 children who are all under 7) during the day has made me want to go visit that rabbi myself!
So this insane idea has popped into my head. Very soon we will list this tiny gem on the market, and will venture forth into the great unknown. The market is poor right now. I understand that we might lose on the house a little bit. But we need space, and we stand the chance of grabbing that right now, more than ever before.
CT is an expensive state, the second highest for gas right now. It's an expensive state to live, much less raise a large family. But the nature of Mike's business is such that we can't uproot and find our family's means somewhere else. The economy is such that we recognize Mike's ability to support us with this new business for what it is: a miraculous blessing.
So I thought to myself, in my quest for a house, that I would take whatever God would send, we're not picky. I told my realtor up front that we'll trade space for upgrades. And that if the house is small but on a larger chunk of land, that might be okay too. If we ever wanted to do an addition, it would need the land to afford the zoning for that. And now is the time to make that kind of investment, if we're ever going to do it.
And then, I started to grow these ideas in my head...What if? What if I started a small farm on the property? I've had good luck in the past with a garden. I owned horses and did 4H when I was a kid. I've "worked the land" as any decent Connecticutan can claim to have done. And besides a farm offers so many benefits - ESPECIALLY with a large family. And as I look out over our national horizon, I'm thinking now is more the time than ever to try and become self-sufficient.
But that's where my encouragement ends. I have to will myself now to get outside and mow the lawn, and tend to our pool. I still have yet to weed my flower beds, and if it weren't for the showings, that project might not get done this year. I don't know if its because my heart has given up on this temporary dwelling, and I'm in a passive sit out on this place, or if its because...I'm not meant to be a farmer...
In theory, I know what it entails. But in theory, I know what it rewards. In one word: Independence.
Pray for me, and please if you have advice share? I'm seriously considering this next step and would love whatever light in the dark you may be able to shine my way?
Mike and I are looking at houses. It's time. I'm sure some of my longer followers remember my first posts about getting a house. Well, we're back baby! There's a children's book that my mother used to read me called "It Could Always be Worse". It's a Jewish proverb about a man who goes to see a rabbi because his house has become too crowded. One by one, the rabbi instructs the man to bring his farm animals into the house to live with his family. It gets worse and worse, until the man almost breaks. Then the rabbi has the man put the animals back in the barn and for the first time in weeks, the family has a peaceful and quiet evening.
I think this is the story that God has played out in my family life thus far. We don't have farm animals (we have a cat), but we have 5 children in 900 square feet with 2 bedrooms. It would be okay as we've given up our room to the girls so that the 3 boys and 2 girls can sleep in separate rooms. But now that Mike works from home, he has taken over my kitchen during the day (which also doubles as my school room when the fall comes) to conduct his business. Being confined to the living room (and quiet with my 5 children who are all under 7) during the day has made me want to go visit that rabbi myself!
So this insane idea has popped into my head. Very soon we will list this tiny gem on the market, and will venture forth into the great unknown. The market is poor right now. I understand that we might lose on the house a little bit. But we need space, and we stand the chance of grabbing that right now, more than ever before.
CT is an expensive state, the second highest for gas right now. It's an expensive state to live, much less raise a large family. But the nature of Mike's business is such that we can't uproot and find our family's means somewhere else. The economy is such that we recognize Mike's ability to support us with this new business for what it is: a miraculous blessing.
So I thought to myself, in my quest for a house, that I would take whatever God would send, we're not picky. I told my realtor up front that we'll trade space for upgrades. And that if the house is small but on a larger chunk of land, that might be okay too. If we ever wanted to do an addition, it would need the land to afford the zoning for that. And now is the time to make that kind of investment, if we're ever going to do it.
And then, I started to grow these ideas in my head...What if? What if I started a small farm on the property? I've had good luck in the past with a garden. I owned horses and did 4H when I was a kid. I've "worked the land" as any decent Connecticutan can claim to have done. And besides a farm offers so many benefits - ESPECIALLY with a large family. And as I look out over our national horizon, I'm thinking now is more the time than ever to try and become self-sufficient.
But that's where my encouragement ends. I have to will myself now to get outside and mow the lawn, and tend to our pool. I still have yet to weed my flower beds, and if it weren't for the showings, that project might not get done this year. I don't know if its because my heart has given up on this temporary dwelling, and I'm in a passive sit out on this place, or if its because...I'm not meant to be a farmer...
In theory, I know what it entails. But in theory, I know what it rewards. In one word: Independence.
Pray for me, and please if you have advice share? I'm seriously considering this next step and would love whatever light in the dark you may be able to shine my way?
Monday, July 18, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Catholic 'Mantras'
I hate to mix it up here on theologies...But you all know what I'm meaning here. Those Catholic 'mantras'...Those faith 'action statements'...Those 'words to live by' that become the slogans of our Faith...
For example, when I was growing up there was the bracelet campaign of "WWJD"..."What would Jesus Do?" It was to compel us onward in our Christianity to do as Jesus would. It wasn't until I traveled further in my Faith that I realized there was no human way for me to do that. Jesus was God. I most definitely am not. And even though I can do things with the power of His name, I will never be able to completely do what Jesus did. That start my own campaign. Instead of "WWJD" I live by "WWJHMD" "What would Jesus have me do?" It's a subtle difference but its really helping my Messiah complex:)
Then there's the newer one in my life: Be like Mary. Mary, the one who bore Christ, and surrendered everything to her Son even unto the Cross. I can't even stand to watch my sons fall down, let alone be stretched out on a cross. I try and fail to be Mary in my home all the time, and its created a conflict in me. Mary was all humility, I'm constantly reminded in my struggles with pride. But I remind my more meek stay at home Mom friends - Mary was also known to crush snakes. She was humble, not a pushover. In this journey I'm finding it best to say, I am definitely not Mary. Mary was perfect. I am not. And that is the most humbling aspect of Mary that I've grown to love:)
For example, when I was growing up there was the bracelet campaign of "WWJD"..."What would Jesus Do?" It was to compel us onward in our Christianity to do as Jesus would. It wasn't until I traveled further in my Faith that I realized there was no human way for me to do that. Jesus was God. I most definitely am not. And even though I can do things with the power of His name, I will never be able to completely do what Jesus did. That start my own campaign. Instead of "WWJD" I live by "WWJHMD" "What would Jesus have me do?" It's a subtle difference but its really helping my Messiah complex:)
Then there's the newer one in my life: Be like Mary. Mary, the one who bore Christ, and surrendered everything to her Son even unto the Cross. I can't even stand to watch my sons fall down, let alone be stretched out on a cross. I try and fail to be Mary in my home all the time, and its created a conflict in me. Mary was all humility, I'm constantly reminded in my struggles with pride. But I remind my more meek stay at home Mom friends - Mary was also known to crush snakes. She was humble, not a pushover. In this journey I'm finding it best to say, I am definitely not Mary. Mary was perfect. I am not. And that is the most humbling aspect of Mary that I've grown to love:)
Thursday, July 14, 2011
The Story of Us...Cont'd
This is Part 2 of my vocation story. Be sure to read "The Story of Us" first so that you can 'jump right in'!
There's a country song (why is it ALWAYS a country song??;) that says "God bless the broken road that led me straight to you." Well, this is the second half about my better half. And how God brought us back together.
I must back up about a year before I left off. It was a beautiful September day. I was standing outside the Student Center with my 'friends' smoking a cig. before class. Out of the blue, a young man walked up to me, a mutual friend of Mike and I, a blast from the past of our high school dating circle. I had never seen him on campus before that day. I would never see him on campus after that day either. We exchanged small talk and scanty catch ups on the last 3 years. Then he leveled with me.
"Patty, have you heard about Mike's mom?"
I shook my head in stunned silence.
"She's been battling cancer for a little while now, she doesn't have much time left. I just thought you'd want to know in case you wanted to get a hold of Mike." My heart ached as I knew that was out of the question.
I got home that evening. There was a voice on the machine. Another blast from the past in a mutual friend who had called to let me know that Mike's mom had passed that day. He left the times for the wake and the funeral. Wished me well. Hung up. Punched me in the stomach from 40 miles away. I was reeling. What could I do? "God, you made it clear to me...You wanted him...Not me...Why did you do this now? And what can you possibly want me to do in this mess? Now?" I knew what I had to do.
I missed the wake. My mom sat with me and had a coffee that evening and noticed that I seemed 'tired'. You know that's Mom code for "what's really bothering you, my child?" I poured out all of it, and told her I just had to go to that funeral. She said that yes, I needed to go to that funeral.
I snuck into the funeral just before it started. My mom had come with me, and another friend from my past, of course mutual friends with Mike, sat with me and consoled me. I glanced up in the Church I had abandoned as I slunk to a pew and noticed I was sitting under the stained glass of the weeping women. I looked across the aisle about 4 pews in front of me to see about 20 seminarians there for Mike. Great, God. That's just great. I had to be strong. For what, I couldn't possibly know. Then the procession began. There was Mike's Dad, escorted in by his loving family. His sisters in the comforting arms of their husbands. His brother with his wife and son surrounding him. And then, there was Mike. Alone. So completely alone. "This is JUST NOT FAIR!!!" What I thought was already broken in me that day broke even more, and I could hardly stand for his sorrow. For his pain.
The funeral flew by. I could not really pay attention. I was so confused by it all. I mustered the courage to stand in the receiving line. I was bolstered by the warm reception I got from both of Mike's sisters. I needed that courage to approach the honor guard of seminarians surrounding Mike. My blasted red hair. They zoned right in on me and knew who I was. The devil child. I cautiously entered their sanctuary to where Mike was. He saw me, and broke down. We rushed to each other, and I couldn't let go. We were both sobbing, and judging from the frustration on his classmate's expressions, we all knew why.
It was a pleasant afternoon, but sadly it remained just one more piece of the puzzle, as I did not attempt to re-connect with him. I let him go. He back to his world. Me back to mine.
Fast forward to the vortex that sucked me in and spat me out, homeless, friendless, and having to rush back to the refuge of my mother's home. Depleted of everything I just wanted to die, to crawl under a rock to avoid the world's taunts as it continued to turn. We stopped for dinner on the way home from my apartment eviction, I couldn't eat a bite. I was so upset. My Dad had come with us, as he was in town for my sister's wedding which would be that coming weekend. Great. Yet another: Great.
We got home and I noticed there were about 12 hang up calls on my Mom's answering machine. During dinner, my Mom had complained how some kids were having a great time prank calling her house. Wanting to be proactive in disturbing someone, I took this on as my mission. "Mom! Tomorrow I'm calling the phone company and having it out!! Who leaves 12 hang ups on a machine??? Those kids are going to GET IT!!" It would wait as we all retired to bed. Just in time for the phone to ring. I jumped out of bed and in my most menacing voice said, "Hello?!?"
"Uh, hi Patty. Uh. It's me Mike. I was just wondering if you'd go with me for a cup of coffee."
"Tonight? Like right now? It's like 10 at night, Mike."
"I know. Well, there's got to be a good coffee shop near you? I'll come up that way."
(Pause. Pause. Pause. My mind just could not comprehend what was going on.)
"There's some stuff I need to talk to you about and I'd like to see you in person."
"That should be okay. There's a Denny's that's open 24 hours down the road. I need to borrow my Mom's car, but I should be able to get there." (Yeah, in addition to my drama, my car, fully loaded with all my stuff from my old apartment, had died in the parking lot on my getaway from the ex boyfriend. Ugh.)
"Thanks Patty, I'll be there as soon as I can."
I ran in my Mom's room and gently woke her. "Mom, Mike asked me to meet him at Denny's for coffee, can I borrow the car?"
She sat straight up, with a cucumber/avocado mask on and bloodshot eyes, she looked at me pointedly. Her only answer, in her mentally clear, sleep-drunken stupor was "I cannot afford another wedding at this time."
I knew that wasn't the answer. Mike had been tapped by the Bishop to head over to Rome to continue his Priestly studies. I knew this was about my final farewell, and we were going to tie up loose ends before he left. I casually got ready to go. Mike lived 45 minutes from the Denny's and I lived a mile. I had time. About 20 minutes later I headed out the door. In the garage, I saw my moving boxes. On the top of the pile was a journal I had been keeping for Mike of all my journeys since we broke up that fateful summer following my senior year of high school. He was leaving. I was giving it to him as my parting gift. It was only appropriate.
I showed up at Denny's 5 minutes later. He was there, waiting for me. We exchanged awkward 'hellos' and grabbed a booth towards the back of the restaurant. We started small talk and I told him the basics of school, not wanting to offload the day from hell that I had just lived through. I asked him how school was going.
"Well. Uh. You see. There's this ceremony that I have to attend in front of the Bishop. The one where I give my consent to continue my program of study, and I have to do it before heading to Rome."
I wasn't really paying attention. "Wow, that's great Mike. If you want me there, I'll do my best to get there."
"Well, I can't do it." At this point, Mike just stopped and looked at me.
"Oh! Well, is it in Italian? Maybe I can help you with the pronunciation? Or in Latin? I'd be happy to help you memorize your responses. It can't be too hard Mike."
"No, its not that."
"Well, it is Rome. The farthest you've ever been from home. I can understand why you're nervous."
"No, its nothing like that either."
"Well, for goodness sake Mike! What in the world is going on with you?!?"
"I can't go through with it...Because...Because I'm still in love with you."
There it was, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, something right broke within me. I felt those walls which I had so fastidiously worked to create for years crumble down, and the healing touch of love and grace and mercy come flooding over me. I was overwhelmed. I reached for him. It was a moment of great truth. A moment that could not be ruined by pretense.
"Mike. I don't know what to say. There's so much. So much. That you don't know. I've changed. I may not be the person you remember. I've done so many things. You may not want me for all that I have done. For the ways in which I have changed."
The love in his eyes begged to differ, and 10 years later this August, it's still there whenever Mike looks at me. God brought us back together, and we haven't been the same since. Which is such a great thing! Alas, I have yet to tell you my engagement story! LOL! But that will have to be another day. For this is the beginning of "the Story of Us":)
There's a country song (why is it ALWAYS a country song??;) that says "God bless the broken road that led me straight to you." Well, this is the second half about my better half. And how God brought us back together.
I must back up about a year before I left off. It was a beautiful September day. I was standing outside the Student Center with my 'friends' smoking a cig. before class. Out of the blue, a young man walked up to me, a mutual friend of Mike and I, a blast from the past of our high school dating circle. I had never seen him on campus before that day. I would never see him on campus after that day either. We exchanged small talk and scanty catch ups on the last 3 years. Then he leveled with me.
"Patty, have you heard about Mike's mom?"
I shook my head in stunned silence.
"She's been battling cancer for a little while now, she doesn't have much time left. I just thought you'd want to know in case you wanted to get a hold of Mike." My heart ached as I knew that was out of the question.
I got home that evening. There was a voice on the machine. Another blast from the past in a mutual friend who had called to let me know that Mike's mom had passed that day. He left the times for the wake and the funeral. Wished me well. Hung up. Punched me in the stomach from 40 miles away. I was reeling. What could I do? "God, you made it clear to me...You wanted him...Not me...Why did you do this now? And what can you possibly want me to do in this mess? Now?" I knew what I had to do.
I missed the wake. My mom sat with me and had a coffee that evening and noticed that I seemed 'tired'. You know that's Mom code for "what's really bothering you, my child?" I poured out all of it, and told her I just had to go to that funeral. She said that yes, I needed to go to that funeral.
I snuck into the funeral just before it started. My mom had come with me, and another friend from my past, of course mutual friends with Mike, sat with me and consoled me. I glanced up in the Church I had abandoned as I slunk to a pew and noticed I was sitting under the stained glass of the weeping women. I looked across the aisle about 4 pews in front of me to see about 20 seminarians there for Mike. Great, God. That's just great. I had to be strong. For what, I couldn't possibly know. Then the procession began. There was Mike's Dad, escorted in by his loving family. His sisters in the comforting arms of their husbands. His brother with his wife and son surrounding him. And then, there was Mike. Alone. So completely alone. "This is JUST NOT FAIR!!!" What I thought was already broken in me that day broke even more, and I could hardly stand for his sorrow. For his pain.
The funeral flew by. I could not really pay attention. I was so confused by it all. I mustered the courage to stand in the receiving line. I was bolstered by the warm reception I got from both of Mike's sisters. I needed that courage to approach the honor guard of seminarians surrounding Mike. My blasted red hair. They zoned right in on me and knew who I was. The devil child. I cautiously entered their sanctuary to where Mike was. He saw me, and broke down. We rushed to each other, and I couldn't let go. We were both sobbing, and judging from the frustration on his classmate's expressions, we all knew why.
It was a pleasant afternoon, but sadly it remained just one more piece of the puzzle, as I did not attempt to re-connect with him. I let him go. He back to his world. Me back to mine.
Fast forward to the vortex that sucked me in and spat me out, homeless, friendless, and having to rush back to the refuge of my mother's home. Depleted of everything I just wanted to die, to crawl under a rock to avoid the world's taunts as it continued to turn. We stopped for dinner on the way home from my apartment eviction, I couldn't eat a bite. I was so upset. My Dad had come with us, as he was in town for my sister's wedding which would be that coming weekend. Great. Yet another: Great.
We got home and I noticed there were about 12 hang up calls on my Mom's answering machine. During dinner, my Mom had complained how some kids were having a great time prank calling her house. Wanting to be proactive in disturbing someone, I took this on as my mission. "Mom! Tomorrow I'm calling the phone company and having it out!! Who leaves 12 hang ups on a machine??? Those kids are going to GET IT!!" It would wait as we all retired to bed. Just in time for the phone to ring. I jumped out of bed and in my most menacing voice said, "Hello?!?"
"Uh, hi Patty. Uh. It's me Mike. I was just wondering if you'd go with me for a cup of coffee."
"Tonight? Like right now? It's like 10 at night, Mike."
"I know. Well, there's got to be a good coffee shop near you? I'll come up that way."
(Pause. Pause. Pause. My mind just could not comprehend what was going on.)
"There's some stuff I need to talk to you about and I'd like to see you in person."
"That should be okay. There's a Denny's that's open 24 hours down the road. I need to borrow my Mom's car, but I should be able to get there." (Yeah, in addition to my drama, my car, fully loaded with all my stuff from my old apartment, had died in the parking lot on my getaway from the ex boyfriend. Ugh.)
"Thanks Patty, I'll be there as soon as I can."
I ran in my Mom's room and gently woke her. "Mom, Mike asked me to meet him at Denny's for coffee, can I borrow the car?"
She sat straight up, with a cucumber/avocado mask on and bloodshot eyes, she looked at me pointedly. Her only answer, in her mentally clear, sleep-drunken stupor was "I cannot afford another wedding at this time."
I knew that wasn't the answer. Mike had been tapped by the Bishop to head over to Rome to continue his Priestly studies. I knew this was about my final farewell, and we were going to tie up loose ends before he left. I casually got ready to go. Mike lived 45 minutes from the Denny's and I lived a mile. I had time. About 20 minutes later I headed out the door. In the garage, I saw my moving boxes. On the top of the pile was a journal I had been keeping for Mike of all my journeys since we broke up that fateful summer following my senior year of high school. He was leaving. I was giving it to him as my parting gift. It was only appropriate.
I showed up at Denny's 5 minutes later. He was there, waiting for me. We exchanged awkward 'hellos' and grabbed a booth towards the back of the restaurant. We started small talk and I told him the basics of school, not wanting to offload the day from hell that I had just lived through. I asked him how school was going.
"Well. Uh. You see. There's this ceremony that I have to attend in front of the Bishop. The one where I give my consent to continue my program of study, and I have to do it before heading to Rome."
I wasn't really paying attention. "Wow, that's great Mike. If you want me there, I'll do my best to get there."
"Well, I can't do it." At this point, Mike just stopped and looked at me.
"Oh! Well, is it in Italian? Maybe I can help you with the pronunciation? Or in Latin? I'd be happy to help you memorize your responses. It can't be too hard Mike."
"No, its not that."
"Well, it is Rome. The farthest you've ever been from home. I can understand why you're nervous."
"No, its nothing like that either."
"Well, for goodness sake Mike! What in the world is going on with you?!?"
"I can't go through with it...Because...Because I'm still in love with you."
There it was, for the first time in what felt like an eternity, something right broke within me. I felt those walls which I had so fastidiously worked to create for years crumble down, and the healing touch of love and grace and mercy come flooding over me. I was overwhelmed. I reached for him. It was a moment of great truth. A moment that could not be ruined by pretense.
"Mike. I don't know what to say. There's so much. So much. That you don't know. I've changed. I may not be the person you remember. I've done so many things. You may not want me for all that I have done. For the ways in which I have changed."
The love in his eyes begged to differ, and 10 years later this August, it's still there whenever Mike looks at me. God brought us back together, and we haven't been the same since. Which is such a great thing! Alas, I have yet to tell you my engagement story! LOL! But that will have to be another day. For this is the beginning of "the Story of Us":)
Friday, July 8, 2011
The Story of Us...
This is the story of us. It is in response to Melody's challenge here at Blossoming Joy to tell your engagement story. I felt the need to flesh it out a little. The prologue to our vocation is very rich, very deep, and as with all things of God very complex thanks to our humanness...
I must begin with the formative years of my Faith. I survived middle school as best I could. Before that time people disliked me. In fact, I was that fat, gross, quiet kid that everyone loved to hate. I'd find my confidence blown at every school past-time, only to be rebuilt tentatively that evening by self pep talks only to be destroyed again at recess the following day. I hated myself, and when I finally cried "suicide", my mom yanked me from school and placed me for my eighth grade year at the Cathedral school of our Diocese. I wasn't Catholic. I didn't know what I was. I wasn't anything in my opinion.
There was nothing really special about the school. The biggest gain for me was the uniforms. Finally I wasn't in that small town crowd where you had to dress exactly so or be disliked. Or be disliked anyway. The uniforms gave me camoflauge. I made friends quickly and easily. It did wonders for me as a young woman. But nothing gave me that faith like my first trip there. Walking through the heavy oak doors of the Cathedral. I couldn't breathe for the way He penetrated my heart. Everyone else seemed so nonchalant about it. Didn't they feel Him? No, He was there for me that day. I've never been the same since.
I got baptised and received my first communion in this final year of my elementary education. I became a big fan of the order of Sisters who worked at this school. My Mom, having come back to her Faith, did as well. She decided to continue this journey for me, and placed me in the all-girls' Catholic high school run by the same order. I knew my life was over.
I quickly made friends again, and began to bloom where God had planted me. I was involved in many things, but none I loved so much as youth ministry. This was my passion. To reach out and be upheld by my peers in the Faith. It was at one of these events I met him, I met Mike. I so desperately wanted to impress him. I knew I didn't stand a chance as all my girlfriends were in line to meet him, dangling on his arm. He was the only one to take pity on me and be on my team for beach volleyball that day. Doing my best up-serve, I slammed him squarely between the shoulder blades with the ball. Mortified, I couldn't bring myself to even talk to him on the bus ride home. I knew he was out of my league.
I began to date in his circle. Carefree dating, usually in a big crowd of friends at the bowling alley or the roller skating rink. I was a good girl, and I wasn't ashamed of it. In the meantime I got to know Mike better. He was considering a vocation to the Priesthood. I would soon discern God's calling me to join the order where I was at school. We bonded over these long late-night talks about our love for God. I even remember writing in my journal "It's too bad that Mike's going into Seminary and I'm going into the Convent, for if I were to marry, Mike would be exactly the man I'd want to be married to." We started going to Daily Mass in the summertime. Meanwhile we'd continue to date other people, casually. He dated my older sister. I dated his best friend. It was like we were in two opposing revolving doors, always seeing one another through the glass, and yet being whisked off in opposite directions. But late at night, when the rest of the world had given up caring, we were there for each other, on the phone, pouring our hearts out in our dreams for the future. I was able to talk to him, really talk to him. To share my thoughts and feelings, and he with me, in a way I could never with anyone else. Praying together, going to Mass together, sharing our Faith together, bonded us in a way that made our friendship 'stronger than death'. We both realized this, and were grateful to God for this unexpected gift.
Mike went onto college as I began my senior year of high school. This was a moment in time for me. A chance to give my education all I had. It was a great year of growth and educational success. Mike and I maintined our friendship. I typed him a letter and mailed it out every single day. And I'm talking typewriter old school typing:) As inevitable as Harry and Sally, as Westley and Buttercup, as Scarlet and Rhett even, we began to feel the stirrings of something more. We dated in my senior year. He was my date for my senior prom even! We both knew it was inevitable, that we'd have to break it off to pursue the plans God had made for us. But we both secretly hoped that our relationship wasn't pointless. I grew to love Mike in that year. To really love and respect him as a person. It was after my high school graduation that we both took that fateful step. We broke up. That summer began my great sadness. I had wanted to break up. I couldn't understand why I was so shaken up by it. I still had my friend. And now my friend was free to follow his dream as a Priest. I wanted that for him. My feelings betrayed me and terrified me. I wrestled with them and screamed reason at them. But they refused to be quieted or to be understood. I was alone that summer. Oh, so alone.
I went onto college. Mike went onto his second year of college. We kept in contact now through emails back and forth. Not quite as frequently, but still with as much camaraderie as before. I was glad for my friend during this tumultuous first year of a gigantic university. I did my best to stay afloat and he helped me to stay grounded. We continued on our friendship as best we could. We got together that following summer for Mass and coffee quite a few times. It was growth. Painful agonizing growth. For both of us.
He began seminary that fall. I went into the Honors Program at my university in that, my second year of school. I moved on campus, and we began slipping further and further away from each other. I couldn't help it. Well, of course I could help it. I still had feelings for him. I loved him more than I had loved any man. I hated that seminary (I used to call it the cemetery). I hated that he was there. And yet, I loved God. I loved His Church and knew the harvest was great and that Mike would be the best laborer in His fields. I begged God to let him go. To let him come back to me. I cried and agonized over it. I agonized over my own vocation realizing with that instinctual primordial cry every time He asked for my hand again and again. "Lord, I love you with all my heart...But...I want children..." It seemed so pathetic a response to Him at the time, but I could not shake it. I could not disown it or distance myself from it. Even with Mike gone, I saw children in my future and I could not let them go.
It got worse between us. I would tease him, lure him in ways only a woman who knew him too well could. We never got physical, but I knew what I was doing in his heart. I wanted to know that he suffered in his decision, because I would know that he still loved me. I wanted him to love me, to be tortured by me. And then one day, I was struck off that horse. I was kneeling at Mass, noon Mass, with my mother by my side. I heard the Lord speak, "You have to let him go." "Lord, you know I cannot do that." "If you love me, you will keep this commandment, you have to let Mike go. He has to come to me freely. And you have to let him be free to do that." I felt the very wind knocked out of me by this request of my most gracious Lord. I went home that evening and wrote the letter. The "dear John" letter I should have written years before. I delivered it that evening after a dinner at the Bishop's house. I cut off all ties of communication with him from that point on. It killed me.
I knew to turn to the Lord. He would console me in this time of my great sorrow. I went to Noon Mass the following day. I listened to every word He would share with me, and almost fainted during the first reading. It was there, the cry of Hannah for her son, the weeping, mad woman at the Temple. I cried out, much to the horror of my mother sitting next to me, and went completely pale. "O Lord, who am I that you must play with me this way? To play with my emotions in such a manner? O Lord, please spare me from these words that confuse me so!!" But they rang in my heart, and I was hurt by the Lord for the first time.
God's silence continued to confuse and hurt me. We had never been distant. I began to boomerang in my Faith. Zealously following it, only to throw it all away in hurt and rage. I didn't understand what the Lord was doing in His silence. I ran away. I embraced the world. I lost Him. I lost myself. I lost more than I care to remember in those the darkest days of my fall. And as a man took me, used me, and I used him back, I would see Mike's face. I hadn't talked to him for a year and a half. Why would he continue to cross my mind, here, at this the farthest reach of space from him? From God? That 'why' would continue to haunt me down this path to the bottom.
I eventually turned to God to get me out of the mess I had created for myself. I knew I could not go back to the Catholic Church, and continue to live the way I had been for the past year. I went instead to the Episcopal Church. I wanted to puke. It was the worst feeling of fake I've ever endured, and I had done a lot of fake in my life up to that point. I came home from that "service" and that evening my atheist boyfriend kicked me out. His dispenser was full. He wanted his dime, and his space back. I lost all my friends. I lost my apartment. I lost my freedom. And now I had to go home and face my mom. I had gone to the black.
**To be continued**
I must begin with the formative years of my Faith. I survived middle school as best I could. Before that time people disliked me. In fact, I was that fat, gross, quiet kid that everyone loved to hate. I'd find my confidence blown at every school past-time, only to be rebuilt tentatively that evening by self pep talks only to be destroyed again at recess the following day. I hated myself, and when I finally cried "suicide", my mom yanked me from school and placed me for my eighth grade year at the Cathedral school of our Diocese. I wasn't Catholic. I didn't know what I was. I wasn't anything in my opinion.
There was nothing really special about the school. The biggest gain for me was the uniforms. Finally I wasn't in that small town crowd where you had to dress exactly so or be disliked. Or be disliked anyway. The uniforms gave me camoflauge. I made friends quickly and easily. It did wonders for me as a young woman. But nothing gave me that faith like my first trip there. Walking through the heavy oak doors of the Cathedral. I couldn't breathe for the way He penetrated my heart. Everyone else seemed so nonchalant about it. Didn't they feel Him? No, He was there for me that day. I've never been the same since.
I got baptised and received my first communion in this final year of my elementary education. I became a big fan of the order of Sisters who worked at this school. My Mom, having come back to her Faith, did as well. She decided to continue this journey for me, and placed me in the all-girls' Catholic high school run by the same order. I knew my life was over.
I quickly made friends again, and began to bloom where God had planted me. I was involved in many things, but none I loved so much as youth ministry. This was my passion. To reach out and be upheld by my peers in the Faith. It was at one of these events I met him, I met Mike. I so desperately wanted to impress him. I knew I didn't stand a chance as all my girlfriends were in line to meet him, dangling on his arm. He was the only one to take pity on me and be on my team for beach volleyball that day. Doing my best up-serve, I slammed him squarely between the shoulder blades with the ball. Mortified, I couldn't bring myself to even talk to him on the bus ride home. I knew he was out of my league.
I began to date in his circle. Carefree dating, usually in a big crowd of friends at the bowling alley or the roller skating rink. I was a good girl, and I wasn't ashamed of it. In the meantime I got to know Mike better. He was considering a vocation to the Priesthood. I would soon discern God's calling me to join the order where I was at school. We bonded over these long late-night talks about our love for God. I even remember writing in my journal "It's too bad that Mike's going into Seminary and I'm going into the Convent, for if I were to marry, Mike would be exactly the man I'd want to be married to." We started going to Daily Mass in the summertime. Meanwhile we'd continue to date other people, casually. He dated my older sister. I dated his best friend. It was like we were in two opposing revolving doors, always seeing one another through the glass, and yet being whisked off in opposite directions. But late at night, when the rest of the world had given up caring, we were there for each other, on the phone, pouring our hearts out in our dreams for the future. I was able to talk to him, really talk to him. To share my thoughts and feelings, and he with me, in a way I could never with anyone else. Praying together, going to Mass together, sharing our Faith together, bonded us in a way that made our friendship 'stronger than death'. We both realized this, and were grateful to God for this unexpected gift.
Mike went onto college as I began my senior year of high school. This was a moment in time for me. A chance to give my education all I had. It was a great year of growth and educational success. Mike and I maintined our friendship. I typed him a letter and mailed it out every single day. And I'm talking typewriter old school typing:) As inevitable as Harry and Sally, as Westley and Buttercup, as Scarlet and Rhett even, we began to feel the stirrings of something more. We dated in my senior year. He was my date for my senior prom even! We both knew it was inevitable, that we'd have to break it off to pursue the plans God had made for us. But we both secretly hoped that our relationship wasn't pointless. I grew to love Mike in that year. To really love and respect him as a person. It was after my high school graduation that we both took that fateful step. We broke up. That summer began my great sadness. I had wanted to break up. I couldn't understand why I was so shaken up by it. I still had my friend. And now my friend was free to follow his dream as a Priest. I wanted that for him. My feelings betrayed me and terrified me. I wrestled with them and screamed reason at them. But they refused to be quieted or to be understood. I was alone that summer. Oh, so alone.
I went onto college. Mike went onto his second year of college. We kept in contact now through emails back and forth. Not quite as frequently, but still with as much camaraderie as before. I was glad for my friend during this tumultuous first year of a gigantic university. I did my best to stay afloat and he helped me to stay grounded. We continued on our friendship as best we could. We got together that following summer for Mass and coffee quite a few times. It was growth. Painful agonizing growth. For both of us.
He began seminary that fall. I went into the Honors Program at my university in that, my second year of school. I moved on campus, and we began slipping further and further away from each other. I couldn't help it. Well, of course I could help it. I still had feelings for him. I loved him more than I had loved any man. I hated that seminary (I used to call it the cemetery). I hated that he was there. And yet, I loved God. I loved His Church and knew the harvest was great and that Mike would be the best laborer in His fields. I begged God to let him go. To let him come back to me. I cried and agonized over it. I agonized over my own vocation realizing with that instinctual primordial cry every time He asked for my hand again and again. "Lord, I love you with all my heart...But...I want children..." It seemed so pathetic a response to Him at the time, but I could not shake it. I could not disown it or distance myself from it. Even with Mike gone, I saw children in my future and I could not let them go.
It got worse between us. I would tease him, lure him in ways only a woman who knew him too well could. We never got physical, but I knew what I was doing in his heart. I wanted to know that he suffered in his decision, because I would know that he still loved me. I wanted him to love me, to be tortured by me. And then one day, I was struck off that horse. I was kneeling at Mass, noon Mass, with my mother by my side. I heard the Lord speak, "You have to let him go." "Lord, you know I cannot do that." "If you love me, you will keep this commandment, you have to let Mike go. He has to come to me freely. And you have to let him be free to do that." I felt the very wind knocked out of me by this request of my most gracious Lord. I went home that evening and wrote the letter. The "dear John" letter I should have written years before. I delivered it that evening after a dinner at the Bishop's house. I cut off all ties of communication with him from that point on. It killed me.
I knew to turn to the Lord. He would console me in this time of my great sorrow. I went to Noon Mass the following day. I listened to every word He would share with me, and almost fainted during the first reading. It was there, the cry of Hannah for her son, the weeping, mad woman at the Temple. I cried out, much to the horror of my mother sitting next to me, and went completely pale. "O Lord, who am I that you must play with me this way? To play with my emotions in such a manner? O Lord, please spare me from these words that confuse me so!!" But they rang in my heart, and I was hurt by the Lord for the first time.
God's silence continued to confuse and hurt me. We had never been distant. I began to boomerang in my Faith. Zealously following it, only to throw it all away in hurt and rage. I didn't understand what the Lord was doing in His silence. I ran away. I embraced the world. I lost Him. I lost myself. I lost more than I care to remember in those the darkest days of my fall. And as a man took me, used me, and I used him back, I would see Mike's face. I hadn't talked to him for a year and a half. Why would he continue to cross my mind, here, at this the farthest reach of space from him? From God? That 'why' would continue to haunt me down this path to the bottom.
I eventually turned to God to get me out of the mess I had created for myself. I knew I could not go back to the Catholic Church, and continue to live the way I had been for the past year. I went instead to the Episcopal Church. I wanted to puke. It was the worst feeling of fake I've ever endured, and I had done a lot of fake in my life up to that point. I came home from that "service" and that evening my atheist boyfriend kicked me out. His dispenser was full. He wanted his dime, and his space back. I lost all my friends. I lost my apartment. I lost my freedom. And now I had to go home and face my mom. I had gone to the black.
**To be continued**
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
My prayer for New York
I saw this on my friend Melody's site "Blossoming Joy" and I feel that it is timely to see New York embraced by the Eucharist. May we continue to make reparations to our Lord for the blasphemy committed there this past weekend. Gay "marriage" could never be more flaunted in His face as a rupture of man, woman, and God. Please God heal our nation. Please God do not leave us orphaned in your wrath.
Women are hurt the most by feminism
So there it is. Michelle Bachmann is all over the internet. And by most liberals, she's being trashed. Vehemently railed against by so called "women's rights groups" amongst others.
I focus on women's rights groups for the most obvious reasons. Isn't she a woman? And yet, feminists are accusing her of being "bashed over the head one too many times" or claiming that "she should be". Where's the outrage at this violence against a woman? Hypocrites.
You see, the real problem with feminists is that they don't really want to be women. The liberal mindset of the feminist movement means that most women should be men. That's why their mantra is "power to the pant suit", because they can dress as a man. (Bachmann looked stunning in her modest skirt at the GOP primary, btw, imho.) They chop their hair, again, to emulate a man. They have abortions so that, as a man, they don't have to bear children. They work as hard as they can at their employment, and spend as little time in the home, the same as their husbands. They support men like Bill Clinton and Anthony Weiner for their sexual prowess. No mention of the women these men exploited. The biggest problem with feminism today is that it teaches women not how to be better women. It teaches women how to become more like men.
And women who are just that, are the most hurt by these fakes.
I focus on women's rights groups for the most obvious reasons. Isn't she a woman? And yet, feminists are accusing her of being "bashed over the head one too many times" or claiming that "she should be". Where's the outrage at this violence against a woman? Hypocrites.
You see, the real problem with feminists is that they don't really want to be women. The liberal mindset of the feminist movement means that most women should be men. That's why their mantra is "power to the pant suit", because they can dress as a man. (Bachmann looked stunning in her modest skirt at the GOP primary, btw, imho.) They chop their hair, again, to emulate a man. They have abortions so that, as a man, they don't have to bear children. They work as hard as they can at their employment, and spend as little time in the home, the same as their husbands. They support men like Bill Clinton and Anthony Weiner for their sexual prowess. No mention of the women these men exploited. The biggest problem with feminism today is that it teaches women not how to be better women. It teaches women how to become more like men.
And women who are just that, are the most hurt by these fakes.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Novena to St. Rita
What a great Novena! I'm in the midst of praying for a friend of mine for the next nine days. If you're sitting around on the blogosphere for a while with nothing else to do (aside from reading this fantabulous blog) could you recite this prayer with me? Thanks!
NOVENA TO SAINT RITA,
NOVENA TO SAINT RITA,
PATRONESS OF IMPOSSIBLE CASES
O holy patroness of those in need, St. Rita,
whose pleadings before thy Divine Lord
are almost irresistible,
who for thy lavishness in granting favours
hast been called the Advocate of the hopeless
and even of the impossible;
St. Rita, so humble, so pure,
so mortified, so patient
and of such compassionate love
for thy Crucified Jesus
that thou couldst obtain from Him
whatsoever thou askest,
on account of which all confidently
have recourse to thee expecting,
if not always relief,
at least comfort;
be propitious to our petition,
showing thy power with God
on behalf of thy suppliant;
be lavish to us,
as thou hast been in so many wonderful cases,
for the greater glory of God,
for the spreading of thine own devotion,
and for the consolation of those
who trust in thee.
We promise, if our petition is granted,
to glorify thee by making known thy favour,
to bless and sing thy praises forever.
Relying then upon thy merits and power
before the Sacred Heart of Jesus,
we pray thee grant that...
(Make your request here...)
as soon as God deems fit.
Amen.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Homosexual "Marriage"
"Male and female he created them...And God blessed them saying, "Be fruitful and multiply. Fill the earth and subdue it..."
So this month, I am overwhelmed with the outpouring of support for this strange concept to me "Gay Pride". Pride? For what? One's sexuality? Isn't that a curious concept?
I'd love to sit here and tell you that I'm "one of the good guys". That gay "marriage" doesn't bother me, and I could get a lot of empathetic pats on the back, and the carryings on...But there will not and can not ever be a term known to man as "gay 'marriage'". Not because men have decided to take it upon themselves to recreate and redesign all of civilization. But because by our very human natures, such a union could never exist. And the fact that there is an overwhelming force in America this month trying to play God makes me downright uncomfortable.
Maybe its my history. I've been friends with all sorts of people. Really. Who in America hasn't? It's why we love Heinz Ketchup...57 varieties...Because we're all mutts. We all interact, and intermingle. And that's one of the social constructs that makes us a great nation. Our diversity.
But we also have rights in this nation. The right of the individual shall always be kept in mind. This is a very Christian concept, and it lies in our Constitution. Many of our nation's founding fathers enforced this right of the individual based on their experience of tyranny. I have the right as an individual to say that, according to my belief and custom, homosexuality (e.g. the act of homosexual intercourse) is immoral and can endanger the souls of all who support or take part in it. I have the right to say that, and to believe it, and to live by that belief.
Well now there's a group. A group of supposed victims. A group of supposed outcasts. Who say that I don't have the right to believe that. That in order to believe what I do, that I am nothing but a bigot. And they're going to enforce their right to "marry" so that I can no longer hold that belief. They're not only trying to take away the basis of civilization that is marriage. They're trying to overthrow the natural law for which my individual rights are based upon. And they're redefining the meanings of words, namely "marriage" and "bigot". I am not a bigot for believing what I believe. I have never hated a homosexual. I have never been intolerant of a homosexual. As a matter of fact, there is no legal way for any American to be a bigot to any homosexual. That's bunk. If homosexuals in this country think that Americans are unfair, prejudiced, bigots, maybe they should spend some time in a Muslim nation? Maybe they should re-read what happened to homosexuals in the Nazi era, under Hitler? It's propoganda. The first thing the "gay rights" crowd understood was that, in order to get their way, they have to make people understand that they are victims. That the people who don't understand them are intolerant. Bunk.
Homosexuality is a psychological disorder. It is a disordered sexuality. And the people that suffer from it, suffer from psychological issues. I know the A.P.A. was bought out a few years ago. But again, we can change the very Bible itself, but that will not change the truth. The Truth.
I'm jaded. I admit it. I had family members across the spectrum in this issue. I had a close family member who was molested and almost raped by a homosexual while he was serving in the military. It haunts me to this day that someone would violate a person whom I love so much. Would we say that a rapist has a healthy psychological grasp on their sexuality? No. And this person who was psychologically ill was a homosexual. I had another family member who "decided she was gay". When I confronted her in a letter on the relationship she was having with another woman, she betrayed me to her lover. This woman, after reading my letter, flew into a rage and threatened to kill me and my then newborn son. This family member that had betrayed me, had to call me and confess what she had done in order to protect me, for she had seen the handgun her lover had concealed from her up to this point in the relationship. Did this woman have a healthy grasp on her sexuality? No. And this woman was a homosexual.
Now, those are two isolated incidents. One would like to think that homosexuals in general are well adjusted members of society. Tell that to the supporters of Proposition 8 in California a few years ago. Those people whose names were found out as donors and received death threats every day from homosexual groups. Those people whose book of Mormon were burned on their temple steps. Those people who were held hostage at gunpoint during Church so that homosexuals could take over the homily and preach about "tolerance". What about the people who were rallying in support of marriage at NOM? They were bullied and harrassed, and gay rights activists threatened to abduct children from their mothers, terrifying both the women and children who were out to defend the family. These people sound like rational, well adjusted, members of society?
In the United States, it is not illegal for homosexuals to engage in whatever activities they feel they are compelled to do. No one can say boo about it, regardless on one's stance on it. But pushing homosexual "marriage" to the forefront of the "gay rights" issue forces all of us to stand for or to betray our religious beliefs. In pushing a group's "right to marry", it impinges upon my right to practice my religious beliefs. How? Because as soon as I say that marriage should be between one man and one woman, I'm silenced. It happened to Miss USA last year. It happened during Michelle Bachman's response at the GOP debate. And these are enormously powerful women. And they have been silenced. Does everyone have the right to health care? Absolutely. Does everyone have the right to enter into a relationship? Absolutely. But marriage is a public commitment to one man or one woman for life. And I, as a dissenting member of that public, can not and will not give my support to an illicit marriage. And its for people like me that the gay rights group is pushing for nothing more than "the right to 'marry'".
We all have a dignity. We all have a worth. We all have the opportunity for grace. Homosexuals have a very special call from the Lord. A terrible cross, and yet a most blessed one. God calls them to this cross to bear witness of the sacrificial love He intended for us all. Homosexuals, by their very persons, are not sinners. Another great weapon that the "gay rights" group uses specifically against the Church is the blurred line of distinction between homosexuals and their actions. Every person is loved into existence by God. That makes them of immense value, and not a sinner. Every person, through the gift of free will, has the potential to sin. Homosexuals, like every other person, have the choice before them always. To offer up their sexuality to the Lord to do with it as He wills. Or to engage in acts that are not pleasing to the Lord, not life giving, and sinful. If you sense a common theme there, you're right on. We all have that same choice within us, regardless of our sexual orientation. The gay rights movement, in their cunning, have seized upon a moment in history when sex has been so divorced from its proper context that it can be used by anyone, anytime. Lots of people have this concept wrong, and have abused themselves and one another mightily through the terrible, beautiful, and powerful tool that sex is. Sex is meant for marriage. It is the consummation of marriage. It is the sacramental of this great lay sacrament. This means that homosexuals can never engage in sex. This also means that Priests can never engage in sex. This also means that Religious can never engage in sex. This also means that people who are not married can never engage in sex. Homosexuals who embrace God's call and will for their lives can be a powerful testimony to the chaste love of God for the world. The Church is needed, now more than ever, to be a sign and source for these individuals through the witness of Holy Vocations in all walks of life. And that means that it is only through the Church that sex can be held in its proper place, within the context of Holy Marriages.
It is not a mistake on the part of Her enemies that the Church's view of sex and namely marriage is being battled against. It is not a mistake that many want to make the Church's view of marriage to be arcane and burdensome rather than the building block of society. It is not a mistake that our great society stands on the brink and we are being pulled ever closer to that edge...
"A man shall leave his mother and a woman leave her home and they shall cleave to one another and become one spirit, one flesh..."
Saturday, June 11, 2011
LGBT "Pride"
I will be writing more on this later, however, I find no one more articulate and passionate on this issue then my fellow Catholic lay activist, Brian Brown from Connecticut. Please watch this video and I should have my thoughts put together in a couple of days.
And as Lucifer learned, if this is a month of Pride, then may it go before the fall.
And as Lucifer learned, if this is a month of Pride, then may it go before the fall.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
A shout out to Melody!
So my friend and fellow blogger, Melody from "Blossoming Joy" has been tackling the erroneous publication in Our Sunday Visitor "Homeschoolers sometimes at odds with dioceses" head on. She's been doing a fantastic job, and I recommend to all of you to read her insights, her responses, and her prayerful witness to homeschooling (and if you have enough time to waste you could read the article linked above as well;). Melody continues to be a source I wish to emulate.
On a lighter note, and in need of a little comedic relief, I realized that I've never posted this fantastic video. I give it as a shout out to Melody, to my homeschooling friends, and to those who have a sense of humor (you know who you are!) Keep up the great work, and finish up with school! It's summer for Pete's sake!!! LOL!!!
On a lighter note, and in need of a little comedic relief, I realized that I've never posted this fantastic video. I give it as a shout out to Melody, to my homeschooling friends, and to those who have a sense of humor (you know who you are!) Keep up the great work, and finish up with school! It's summer for Pete's sake!!! LOL!!!
Friday, June 3, 2011
About 8 years ago this month...
...I was asked to chaperone a youth conference (The Steubenville East Youth Conference, for anyone aware of those awesome experiences!) Mike and I had both attended these conferences during high school. It is one of the many vehicles God used to prepare us for our vocation, while bringing us closer together as spiritual friends and prayer partners.
Mike and I had been married for a little under three months at this point. I had been so excited to start a family with him that I took it for granted that our good Lord might call us to wait. I was so saddened when the month and then the next went by with no signs of pregnancy. Well meaning friends and family members encouraged us and prayed for us. I entered this youth weekend with a heavy heart.
As the weekend progressed I was able to pull outside of myself, my own fears and worries to help minister to the youth that were there. One girl in particular, a very rambunctious young woman was having trouble settling into the weekend's more reflective moments. The "big tent event", the Saturday night Eucharistic procession was leaving her jittery to say the least. I had left the group that night, "to go off and pray" with our Lord. I was kneeling there, in the dirt, waiting for our Lord to pass when out of the corner of my eye I saw her, this same girl, weeping in the back of the tent. I quietly slipped out of the side of the tent and went to console her and be with her. She fell apart and opened her heart to me, and to our Lord. It was such a moment of grace for us both. Our Lord was coming, the procession was nearing us. I helped the girl find a place in the dirt to kneel with me, we were right on the edge of the aisle. I began rethinking through my hurts, but I tried to lift them all up and out of the way for this dear soul trembling next to me. As the Lord passed me, I said to Him "I give it to you, I was so busy with this one you sent me that I didn't even get to see your face as you passed me, Lord. But I offer that too, as a great sacrifice for this young woman you've put here with me. O Lord, you know my heart. You know how badly I want a child. But I give it to you. As I didn't see your face tonight, Lord, I don't exactly see your will in this time. Give me Faith Lord. Give me Faith!"
At that moment, the Priest hesitated. Even though he was about 2 feet behind me, I saw him falter in his step, as if being held back. Then, in that moment, it was like the world stopped moving. I saw the priest turning, ever so slowly towards me, stopping right there in benediction over my head. My heart cried out its "fiat" followed by a rush of my human tears.
We came back that weekend a changed group. The young woman went on to be a leader in her youth group at Church. She had healed from a past of sin, and was looking for the means to continue on in Holy Innocence. I still pray for her as I think of that night.
And three days after coming home from that retreat, Mike and I found out we were pregnant. I sought a child from our Eucharistic Lord and my prayers were heard.
Please pray for our family as now this same child is seeking the means to receive our Eucharistic Lord for himself. What a blessing for my first blessing. And now, as a Mom, I must maintain that same confidence of Faith to say "I am a handmaiden of the Lord, let it be done to me as You will."
Monday, May 23, 2011
Springtime FUN!!
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| The first day of spring! Yay! |
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| As warm wether approached, I tried to finish a blanket for my son. He outgrew the baby blanket I made him;) |
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| Some turkeys came to visit us, or just pass through... |
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| Sharing his love of outer space with his little sister. |
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| Using a Dr. Guarendi 'blackout' writing 50 xs "I will listen to adults". |
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| FIRST LOST TOOTH!! |
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| Enjoying Grampa's "World Famous Recipe" ribs for Mother's Day |
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| More enjoyment...And lots of fun!! |
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| Yes, that is "Rib faced":) |
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| Enjoying the sunshine! |
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| And little sister too! |
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| First adventures in self feeding...So proud!! |
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| How to take care of teething and feeding at the same time? | FROZEN BLUEBERRIES!! |
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| A well deserved nap:) |
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| Sleepover!! |
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Honey I'm H*O*M*E*!!!
...So excited to finally be posting this!
I'm going to be staying home...FULL TIME!!!
Praise God!!!
Mike and I are worried about money, but...What else is new??
I'll post more on this later, but I just wanted to share the great news!
I'm going to be staying home...FULL TIME!!!
Praise God!!!
Mike and I are worried about money, but...What else is new??
I'll post more on this later, but I just wanted to share the great news!
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Adult stem cells cure A.I.D.S.!?!
h/t Creative Minority Report
SAN FRANCISCO (CBS 5) — A 45-year-old man now living in the Bay Area may be the first person ever cured of the deadly disease AIDS, the result of the discovery of an apparent HIV immunity gene.
Timothy Ray Brown tested positive for HIV back in 1995, but has now entered scientific journals as the first man in world history to have that HIV virus completely eliminated from his body in what doctors call a “functional cure.”
Brown was living in Berlin, Germany back in 2007, dealing with HIV and leukemia, when scientists there gave him a bone marrow stem cell transplant that had astounding results.
“I quit taking my HIV medication the day that I got the transplant and haven’t had to take any since,” said Brown, who has been dubbed “The Berlin Patient” by the medical community.
Brown’s amazing progress continues to be monitored by doctors at San Francisco General Hospital and at the University of California at San Francisco medical center.
“I’m cured of HIV. I had HIV but I don’t anymore,” he said, using words that many in the scientific community are cautiously clinging to.
Scientists said Brown received stem cells from a donor who was immune to HIV. In fact, about one percent of Caucasians are immune to HIV. Some researchers think the immunity gene goes back to the Great Plague: people who survived the plague passed their immunity down and their heirs have it today.
SAN FRANCISCO (CBS 5) — A 45-year-old man now living in the Bay Area may be the first person ever cured of the deadly disease AIDS, the result of the discovery of an apparent HIV immunity gene.
Timothy Ray Brown tested positive for HIV back in 1995, but has now entered scientific journals as the first man in world history to have that HIV virus completely eliminated from his body in what doctors call a “functional cure.”
Brown was living in Berlin, Germany back in 2007, dealing with HIV and leukemia, when scientists there gave him a bone marrow stem cell transplant that had astounding results.
“I quit taking my HIV medication the day that I got the transplant and haven’t had to take any since,” said Brown, who has been dubbed “The Berlin Patient” by the medical community.
Brown’s amazing progress continues to be monitored by doctors at San Francisco General Hospital and at the University of California at San Francisco medical center.
“I’m cured of HIV. I had HIV but I don’t anymore,” he said, using words that many in the scientific community are cautiously clinging to.
Scientists said Brown received stem cells from a donor who was immune to HIV. In fact, about one percent of Caucasians are immune to HIV. Some researchers think the immunity gene goes back to the Great Plague: people who survived the plague passed their immunity down and their heirs have it today.
Black and White do not make Brown
So that terrible excuse of an author, Dan Brown, is at it again. Now, that's not very fair of me, I've never read his books. They are a danger to my Catholic soul and I refuse to read them. I know he's a terrible excuse of an author because of his faithful following.
You know the kind...The ones that as soon as you say the name of their "Almighty" they get that possessed gleam in their eye, that strange smile, and they continue their mantra to you "It's just a story...It's just a story..."
Is it really? Not be cynical of a cynic, but if its just a story, then why bother with such filth? There are other fictitious works that are far more worth the time. Of course, this is all conjecture, but I know in my heart that is true.
I think its because people that find this novelist to "just make stories" want in some small way to believe more in what Dan Brown is saying. He slams the Church, and with the help of his secularist friends, is quite the bandleader in doing so. I think the deeper issue here is that those Catholics who try to convince me that what Dan Brown writes is just a story are putting themselves at risk. Either the Church is one giant scandal as trumpeted by this bafoon, or its real.
In other words, all that Dan Brown writes is either "just a story" or the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, Faith that we profess to believe is just that...Its just a story.
You know the kind...The ones that as soon as you say the name of their "Almighty" they get that possessed gleam in their eye, that strange smile, and they continue their mantra to you "It's just a story...It's just a story..."
Is it really? Not be cynical of a cynic, but if its just a story, then why bother with such filth? There are other fictitious works that are far more worth the time. Of course, this is all conjecture, but I know in my heart that is true.
I think its because people that find this novelist to "just make stories" want in some small way to believe more in what Dan Brown is saying. He slams the Church, and with the help of his secularist friends, is quite the bandleader in doing so. I think the deeper issue here is that those Catholics who try to convince me that what Dan Brown writes is just a story are putting themselves at risk. Either the Church is one giant scandal as trumpeted by this bafoon, or its real.
In other words, all that Dan Brown writes is either "just a story" or the One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic, Faith that we profess to believe is just that...Its just a story.
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Saint Osama bin Laden? Pope Saint John Paul II?
Of all the ironies, here is one: on the same day that the Christian West raised up a great Holy Leader of the Christian Church Universal, a martyred saint was raised up in the Middle East.
It's like a modern times version of Cain and Abel.
One offered the fruits of peace to the entire world, travelling to the ends of the earth to promote the good of humanity.
One sought world domination in the name of "Allah" through the brutalizing of innocent men, women, and children.
One decried violence to the unborn, to the elderly, to the infirmed, the suffering, the poor, the impoverished.
One promoted violence and suicide to aid his own Islamic Jihad.
One saw the devastation of communism, living and working in a labor camp in Poland.
One promoted the same type of religious commune, forcing others through his radical religious ideals to live, work, and die for Allah.
One condescended to constantly invite others to himself, reaching out to all religions in the name of peace, even acquisecing to kiss the Koran, much to the Christian West's dismay.
One loathed the Bible, cursed it, spit on it, and burned it, and then sought to destroy all who upheld the Biblical world view.
One sought out the man who attempted to take his life to offer him peace and reconcilliation in the name of his God.
One killed innocents, for a perceived threat, even though those people who were killed had no other weapons outside of their religion.
They are both considered Saints, and I hope that this puts to rest any conflict amongst my fellow Christian brothers and sisters that there is indeed a true religion, upon which we should labor to offer our gifts to God the Father. And of course there are those bastardized religions which can offer no such fruits, and are displeasing to God.
Cain and Abel, and yet both men were marked for the Lord's protection, and both were loved by Him. Was Cain protected? I do not know. But in the end, we should not rejoice at bin Laden's death, for we shall all be judged according to our thoughts words and deeds.
Celebrate the life of John Paul the Second. A great father of the Church who promoted so much peace and love amongst our human family.
Mourn the loss of life of Osama bin Laden. A father to many who brought death, destruction, and devastation. May God have mercy on his soul, and may he have had the chance to repent and convert to the God of Mercy. Maybe it was also a sign to the world that he was killed on Divine Mercy Sunday.
Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.
Blessed John Paul, pray for us.
It's like a modern times version of Cain and Abel.
One offered the fruits of peace to the entire world, travelling to the ends of the earth to promote the good of humanity.
One sought world domination in the name of "Allah" through the brutalizing of innocent men, women, and children.
One decried violence to the unborn, to the elderly, to the infirmed, the suffering, the poor, the impoverished.
One promoted violence and suicide to aid his own Islamic Jihad.
One saw the devastation of communism, living and working in a labor camp in Poland.
One promoted the same type of religious commune, forcing others through his radical religious ideals to live, work, and die for Allah.
One condescended to constantly invite others to himself, reaching out to all religions in the name of peace, even acquisecing to kiss the Koran, much to the Christian West's dismay.
One loathed the Bible, cursed it, spit on it, and burned it, and then sought to destroy all who upheld the Biblical world view.
One sought out the man who attempted to take his life to offer him peace and reconcilliation in the name of his God.
One killed innocents, for a perceived threat, even though those people who were killed had no other weapons outside of their religion.
They are both considered Saints, and I hope that this puts to rest any conflict amongst my fellow Christian brothers and sisters that there is indeed a true religion, upon which we should labor to offer our gifts to God the Father. And of course there are those bastardized religions which can offer no such fruits, and are displeasing to God.
Cain and Abel, and yet both men were marked for the Lord's protection, and both were loved by Him. Was Cain protected? I do not know. But in the end, we should not rejoice at bin Laden's death, for we shall all be judged according to our thoughts words and deeds.
Celebrate the life of John Paul the Second. A great father of the Church who promoted so much peace and love amongst our human family.
Mourn the loss of life of Osama bin Laden. A father to many who brought death, destruction, and devastation. May God have mercy on his soul, and may he have had the chance to repent and convert to the God of Mercy. Maybe it was also a sign to the world that he was killed on Divine Mercy Sunday.
Eternal rest grant unto them O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them.
Blessed John Paul, pray for us.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Changing Heads:)
So I updated my Header, but I loved this quote so much (thanks Tina!!!) that I have to share it in its entirety. G.K. Chesterton, you've got to love that guy:)
“As an apologist I am the reverse of apologetic. So far as a man may be proud of a religion rooted in humility, I am very proud of my religion; I am especially proud of those parts of it that are most commonly called superstition. I am proud of being fettered by antiquated dogmas and enslaved by dead creeds. (as my journalistic friends repeat with so much tenacity), for I know very well that it is the heretical creeds that are dead, and that it is only the reasonable dogma that lives long enough to be called antiquated.” ~GKC: ‘Autobiography.’
“As an apologist I am the reverse of apologetic. So far as a man may be proud of a religion rooted in humility, I am very proud of my religion; I am especially proud of those parts of it that are most commonly called superstition. I am proud of being fettered by antiquated dogmas and enslaved by dead creeds. (as my journalistic friends repeat with so much tenacity), for I know very well that it is the heretical creeds that are dead, and that it is only the reasonable dogma that lives long enough to be called antiquated.” ~GKC: ‘Autobiography.’
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Thursday, April 28, 2011
What now?
I was thinking today "I wonder what it was like on the Thursday after that first Easter"?
I randomly thought of the ending scene in Finding Nemo, where all the fish land in plastic bags in the ocean, having escaped from the tank back at the Dentist's office, only to have one ask "now what?"
I wonder if it were like that with the apostles. As more and more apparitions of the Risen Christ happen, what did they think? As their trepidatious fear was replaced with overwhelming joy, did it give them courage in this new-found Faith. As they sat together and began to recount Christ's walk among them, slowly piecing his life back together through their narrative, did they begin to recognize the Sacred?
I believe, and I trust that there was a rekindled excitement. A dance in the heart that thrilled the soul. A base recognition of an encounter with the Divine. There came a moment when the apostles just knew, without even a cognitive acceptance of that knowledge, that they had been in the presence of their Messiah.
This hope, this Faith, this joy, this same fire of love is lit and continues to burn in each of us.
For as He died, He rose from the dead.
And He goes even one more mile for us.
Travelling in the form of the simplest of bread. Bread made in a hurry, for there are Passover feasts to be seen to. Flat, wafer like bread. Simple, thoughtless almost in its construction. It becomes the most sacred, the most profound, the most weighted with the human presence. With Him.
Now are you thrilled? Good.
Leave the room, go into the streets, proclaim His name. Don't be scared by those Roman soldiers, by those cynics, by those who wish for political expediency or personal comfort to silence you. Your faith and your joy will overwhelm them. That is why He came. That is why He is here.
For we will know Him in the breaking of the bread.
And that is what is now.
I randomly thought of the ending scene in Finding Nemo, where all the fish land in plastic bags in the ocean, having escaped from the tank back at the Dentist's office, only to have one ask "now what?"
I wonder if it were like that with the apostles. As more and more apparitions of the Risen Christ happen, what did they think? As their trepidatious fear was replaced with overwhelming joy, did it give them courage in this new-found Faith. As they sat together and began to recount Christ's walk among them, slowly piecing his life back together through their narrative, did they begin to recognize the Sacred?
I believe, and I trust that there was a rekindled excitement. A dance in the heart that thrilled the soul. A base recognition of an encounter with the Divine. There came a moment when the apostles just knew, without even a cognitive acceptance of that knowledge, that they had been in the presence of their Messiah.
This hope, this Faith, this joy, this same fire of love is lit and continues to burn in each of us.
For as He died, He rose from the dead.
And He goes even one more mile for us.
Travelling in the form of the simplest of bread. Bread made in a hurry, for there are Passover feasts to be seen to. Flat, wafer like bread. Simple, thoughtless almost in its construction. It becomes the most sacred, the most profound, the most weighted with the human presence. With Him.
Now are you thrilled? Good.
Leave the room, go into the streets, proclaim His name. Don't be scared by those Roman soldiers, by those cynics, by those who wish for political expediency or personal comfort to silence you. Your faith and your joy will overwhelm them. That is why He came. That is why He is here.
For we will know Him in the breaking of the bread.
And that is what is now.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Chinese Food for thought...
A dire prediction hit the news yesterday: A date has been set for the end of the "Age of America," — i.e., when China's economy will overtake the United States. The news comes by way of an International Monetary Fund (IMF) forecast that shows China's economy surpassing America's by 2016. Though there are reasons to question the IMF's conclusions, it is true that if the U.S. does not get its fiscal house in order, the era of American leadership will be over.
Columnist Brett Arends writes in MarketWatch that China's evolution into an economic superpower will spell the end of America's economic dominance on the global stage:
The Heritage Foundation's Derek Scissors, Ph.D., notes that the IMF's prediction that China will surpass the U.S. by 2016 might be a bit early, given that it is based on trends, whereas economic performance is all about a nation's resources and policies. China's economic growth could stall, or the U.S.'s could speed up. What's more, like many predictions about the growth of China's economy, the IMF uses "purchasing power parity" to try to compare the United States and China -- resulting in potentially misleading conclusions. However, Scissors says that there is an overarching lesson to be learned from the IMF forecast:
The picture of America's economic house is a dismal one, with its escalating debt and out-of-control entitlement spending. There is a silver lining for America, though. Scissors points out that China has considerable economic weaknesses like low income levels, resource depletion and high unemployment, whereas the U.S. has comparable strengths and is poised to remain a global leader:
And that's why the next few months are so vitally important. As Congress begins debate on whether to raise the debt limit and how to curb spending, Members must realize that their actions have serious implications for America on the global stage.
Columnist Brett Arends writes in MarketWatch that China's evolution into an economic superpower will spell the end of America's economic dominance on the global stage:
The actual date when China surpasses the U.S. might come even earlier than the IMF predicts, or somewhat later. If the great Chinese juggernaut blows a tire, as a growing number fear it might, it could even delay things by several years. But the outcome is scarcely in doubt.
This is more than a statistical story. It is the end of the Age of America. As a bond strategist in Europe told me two weeks ago, “We are witnessing the end of America’s economic hegemony.”
The Heritage Foundation's Derek Scissors, Ph.D., notes that the IMF's prediction that China will surpass the U.S. by 2016 might be a bit early, given that it is based on trends, whereas economic performance is all about a nation's resources and policies. China's economic growth could stall, or the U.S.'s could speed up. What's more, like many predictions about the growth of China's economy, the IMF uses "purchasing power parity" to try to compare the United States and China -- resulting in potentially misleading conclusions. However, Scissors says that there is an overarching lesson to be learned from the IMF forecast:
The IMF's assumption that our economy will be weak indefinitely is all too reasonable. China might run its economy into the ground, but we are running our economy into the ground. Reasonable people can sharply disagree over what to do, but what's killing U.S. leadership is obvious to the IMF and anyone looking at the global picture: our budget deficit.
The picture of America's economic house is a dismal one, with its escalating debt and out-of-control entitlement spending. There is a silver lining for America, though. Scissors points out that China has considerable economic weaknesses like low income levels, resource depletion and high unemployment, whereas the U.S. has comparable strengths and is poised to remain a global leader:
If we do get our act together, we will stay far ahead of China where it counts most: in wealth, in employment, in technology, and so on. The United States is richer, has far more productive workers, and far more in the way of natural resources than China. The only way we stop being the global economic leader is if we blow it.
And that's why the next few months are so vitally important. As Congress begins debate on whether to raise the debt limit and how to curb spending, Members must realize that their actions have serious implications for America on the global stage.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
Good Friday Homily
I heard the most interesting point made in a Good Friday homily ever, and I know you are all probably super saturated at this point in your journey towards Easter...So I'll leave you with this brief synopsis.
The Passion narrative begins with a scene in a garden. The scene of Christ's agony acted out in supplication to His Heavenly Father. The narrative ends with another scene in a garden. Christ's corpse being placed in the garden of the empty tomb.
It is in the revelation and wonder of God that we realize we have to travel from one garden to another. To come the road that goes full circle. And the only way to go from one garden to the other is through...The cross.
It restores us to that Garden we had lost so long ago.
I was greatly touched by that, and I just thought I'd share.
God Bless you all as we trudge on to Easter.
Wednesday, April 20, 2011
Prayer Before a Crucifix
Behold, O kind and most sweet Jesus, I cast myself upon my knees in Thy sight and with the most fervent desire of my soul I pray and beseech Thee that Thou wouldst impress upon my heart lively sentiments of Faith, Hope, and Charity, with true repentance for my sins, and a firm purpose of amendment, whilst with deep affection and grief of soul I ponder within myself and mentally contemplate Thy five most precious Wounds; having before my eyes the words which David in prophecy spoke concerning Thyself, O good Jesus: "They have pierced my hands and feet; they have numbered all my bones."
Wishing all of you, my dear readers, a very Holy and meritorious Triduum.
Senator Blumenthal Responds...
*Blah, blah, blah...*
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Monday, April 11, 2011
Defund Planned Parenthood vote on Thursday
I know...I know...We lost a battle on Friday...But my friends, we have not lost the war. Please contact your senators today and urge them to vote against funding Planned Parenthood. The vote is this coming Thursday. Time is of the essence!
Here is my letter to Senator Blumenthal:
Dear Senator Blumenthal,
I am writing to respectfully request that you vote to defund Planned Parenthood. Not only do they provide a majority of all abortions done here in the United States and throughout the world, they are a corrupt organization that is unfit to receive any funding. A woman's "right to choose" has been proven a gag order on the failure of Planned Parenthood and her affiliates to cover up racism, sex trafficking of minors, services they claim to provide that indeed they do not. Over 97% of all women who enter Planned Parenthood pregnant will have left only after having an abortion. Only 2% of pregnant women give their babies up for adoption through Planned Parenthood. They are only aided and abetted by our tax monies, and this laundering has to cease.
Thank you for your time in this matter. For more information on the corruptions I cited above, please visit:
http://www.liveaction.org/
Sincerely Yours,
(Me)
I am hoping that enough people write so that we can end the madness that is allowed to continue under the guise of "choice". Please write today. The link is here (and located above!)
http://senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm
Here is my letter to Senator Blumenthal:
Dear Senator Blumenthal,
I am writing to respectfully request that you vote to defund Planned Parenthood. Not only do they provide a majority of all abortions done here in the United States and throughout the world, they are a corrupt organization that is unfit to receive any funding. A woman's "right to choose" has been proven a gag order on the failure of Planned Parenthood and her affiliates to cover up racism, sex trafficking of minors, services they claim to provide that indeed they do not. Over 97% of all women who enter Planned Parenthood pregnant will have left only after having an abortion. Only 2% of pregnant women give their babies up for adoption through Planned Parenthood. They are only aided and abetted by our tax monies, and this laundering has to cease.
Thank you for your time in this matter. For more information on the corruptions I cited above, please visit:
http://www.liveaction.org/
Sincerely Yours,
(Me)
I am hoping that enough people write so that we can end the madness that is allowed to continue under the guise of "choice". Please write today. The link is here (and located above!)
http://senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm
Monday, April 4, 2011
When the Going Gets Tough
Praise God for His Amazing Love
Warning: This video show some of the more graphic moments of The Passion of the Christ. Not suitable for children.
Warning: This video show some of the more graphic moments of The Passion of the Christ. Not suitable for children.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Stressers...
I hate clutter. And I hate being a Mom who is always cleaning. Remember that scene in the "Incredibles" where Elasti-girl is vacuuming and Mr. Incredible picks up the couch for her. I feel like I'm constantly vacumming, but instead of couches, I'm picking up kids.
I wanted kids. I wanted lots of kids. I also wanted to be a super hero Mom who maintained an immaculate home while having fresh baked cookies every afternoon for spic and span children politely lining up with clean and manicured hands asking for a "treat".
My house is gross and I'm overweight. So much for "super Mom":)
I have a storage unit and we've constantly cycled through storing stuff. We've downsized and downsized. We've gotten rid of most everything save the children. And yet, it still seems to get in!
I know there are people who are going to give me the lame excuse that I have lots of kids, therefore its a foregone conclusion that I'm going to have a messy house. And then there's the other excuse that I work part time and otherwise I'd have a lovely home that was mess free. Well, I'm friends with a lot of women who have much larger families than mine, and when I visit them, regardless of the time of day, their homes are always tidy and in order. And my own mother, who worked incessantly to support her family also kept an immaculate house, althewhile attending to my brother who has intense medical needs. I know neat houses can be accomplished. I just have no clue how.
I feel like I walk around all day grumpy, snarking at the kids. That's not the person I want to be. I get guilt complexes when I feel like I'm turning into that housewife that the rest of the world part despises/part makes fun of. Again, most definitely not who I want to be. Generally speaking I'm a fun-loving, easy-going individual. But my kids tremble in fear when they start to hear the water boiling in my brain "WHO LEFT THE MARSHMALLOW CEREAL ON THE TABLE...OUTSIDE OF ITS BAG?!?!?!" "PICK UP THESE THOMAS TRACKS NOW!!!" "PICK UP THESE LEGOS NOW!!!" "COME AND HOLD YOUR SISTER I HAVE TO CLEAN UP PEE, (OR PUKE)!!!" "CAN YOU PLEASE LIFT THE LID AND AIM FOR ONCE!!!" The only times I don't scream are when the baby's sleeping or when I'm afraid to hurt my voice before a singing gig.
I want a routine. I want to know that I'm going to (at least strive to) get up at the same time every morning. Do schoolwork at the same time. Allow time for housework and cooking and other daily needs. I'd like to make time to spend with my children before they're grown up. I'd like to make it to Mass more than once a week (and even better...Before the Responsorial Psalm!!) And yet, when we go to bed early, something (or someone) always wakes us in the middle of the night. Be it a bad dream, a cat, or even a water heater...And the next day I'm functioning on lack of sleep and kids that are looking to take advantage of that fact.
So what's the first step? What's the next step? How do I get out of this cycle of ensuing chaos? If I'm striving for a healthier lifestyle, isn't it only right that I should include my mental health?
Well, I'll figure it out...Right after I blast through those 8 loads of laundry still waiting to be attended to, and that pile of dishes in the sink, and the rest of our school day is finished up, and the baby's next size up clothes are done being sorted through...
I wanted kids. I wanted lots of kids. I also wanted to be a super hero Mom who maintained an immaculate home while having fresh baked cookies every afternoon for spic and span children politely lining up with clean and manicured hands asking for a "treat".
My house is gross and I'm overweight. So much for "super Mom":)
I have a storage unit and we've constantly cycled through storing stuff. We've downsized and downsized. We've gotten rid of most everything save the children. And yet, it still seems to get in!
I know there are people who are going to give me the lame excuse that I have lots of kids, therefore its a foregone conclusion that I'm going to have a messy house. And then there's the other excuse that I work part time and otherwise I'd have a lovely home that was mess free. Well, I'm friends with a lot of women who have much larger families than mine, and when I visit them, regardless of the time of day, their homes are always tidy and in order. And my own mother, who worked incessantly to support her family also kept an immaculate house, althewhile attending to my brother who has intense medical needs. I know neat houses can be accomplished. I just have no clue how.
I feel like I walk around all day grumpy, snarking at the kids. That's not the person I want to be. I get guilt complexes when I feel like I'm turning into that housewife that the rest of the world part despises/part makes fun of. Again, most definitely not who I want to be. Generally speaking I'm a fun-loving, easy-going individual. But my kids tremble in fear when they start to hear the water boiling in my brain "WHO LEFT THE MARSHMALLOW CEREAL ON THE TABLE...OUTSIDE OF ITS BAG?!?!?!" "PICK UP THESE THOMAS TRACKS NOW!!!" "PICK UP THESE LEGOS NOW!!!" "COME AND HOLD YOUR SISTER I HAVE TO CLEAN UP PEE, (OR PUKE)!!!" "CAN YOU PLEASE LIFT THE LID AND AIM FOR ONCE!!!" The only times I don't scream are when the baby's sleeping or when I'm afraid to hurt my voice before a singing gig.
I want a routine. I want to know that I'm going to (at least strive to) get up at the same time every morning. Do schoolwork at the same time. Allow time for housework and cooking and other daily needs. I'd like to make time to spend with my children before they're grown up. I'd like to make it to Mass more than once a week (and even better...Before the Responsorial Psalm!!) And yet, when we go to bed early, something (or someone) always wakes us in the middle of the night. Be it a bad dream, a cat, or even a water heater...And the next day I'm functioning on lack of sleep and kids that are looking to take advantage of that fact.
So what's the first step? What's the next step? How do I get out of this cycle of ensuing chaos? If I'm striving for a healthier lifestyle, isn't it only right that I should include my mental health?
Well, I'll figure it out...Right after I blast through those 8 loads of laundry still waiting to be attended to, and that pile of dishes in the sink, and the rest of our school day is finished up, and the baby's next size up clothes are done being sorted through...
Sacred Vespers for Laetare Sunday
Vespers for Laetare Sunday
St. Michael Church, Pawcatuck CT
On Sunday, April 3,
the Fourth Sunday of Lent,
all are invited to celebrate
Solemn Vespers at 5:00 pm.
Bishop Cote
will preside
and the Schola Cantorum of St. Michael Church will lead us in singing
the Church’s evening prayer of
thanksgiving.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Life Happenings...
Life is good! Praise God! Mike is doing incredibly well at his new company. He has a newborn on his hands though, and his lifestyle right now reflects that:) He's been working 18-20 hour days to get everything established, but what a blessing it is to have TOO much work to do. Especially in this economy.
My oldest and I are going through our third quarter tests right now. If he keeps going in this fashion, he'll be finished up with first grade by May. I'm so excited for him! He's done very well in this his first official year of homeschooling. My other two boys, both in school as well, are doing excellent! One finished his kindergarten curricula in January, and the other one will be done with Kindergarten by June. These early years fly by, and I love how excited they become with school.
The girls are both doing great. My little Mary is growing leaps and bounds. She went to the Doctor yesterday who was quite impressed with her. She is pigeon-toed, but after talking to the Doctor I'm comforted to know that some kids grow through this. She should naturally grow out of it, and doesn't need braces or anything. As this is a confirmation of her PCP's thoughts, I'm going to leave it at that.
My little Gabby is doing wonderfully as well. She was 4 months old on March 1st and already has two teeth and IS CRAWLING!! Not kidding! She's amazing, and the kids are all amazing with her.
There is so much to be thankful for, and I can't help but praise God in this Holy time for those most precious moments with my little ones. I have a beautiful family, and they are growing, thriving, healthy, and getting more wonderful everyday. Thank you God for these my most special gifts.
Please know, my dear readers that I continue to pray for you all during this Holy Lententide.
My oldest and I are going through our third quarter tests right now. If he keeps going in this fashion, he'll be finished up with first grade by May. I'm so excited for him! He's done very well in this his first official year of homeschooling. My other two boys, both in school as well, are doing excellent! One finished his kindergarten curricula in January, and the other one will be done with Kindergarten by June. These early years fly by, and I love how excited they become with school.
The girls are both doing great. My little Mary is growing leaps and bounds. She went to the Doctor yesterday who was quite impressed with her. She is pigeon-toed, but after talking to the Doctor I'm comforted to know that some kids grow through this. She should naturally grow out of it, and doesn't need braces or anything. As this is a confirmation of her PCP's thoughts, I'm going to leave it at that.
My little Gabby is doing wonderfully as well. She was 4 months old on March 1st and already has two teeth and IS CRAWLING!! Not kidding! She's amazing, and the kids are all amazing with her.
There is so much to be thankful for, and I can't help but praise God in this Holy time for those most precious moments with my little ones. I have a beautiful family, and they are growing, thriving, healthy, and getting more wonderful everyday. Thank you God for these my most special gifts.
Please know, my dear readers that I continue to pray for you all during this Holy Lententide.
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