Mothering God's Children

The Disappearance of Doctor Do

2012-02-13T21:05:00.006-05:00

Today I was reading a random issue of Readers Digest, one of many that for some unknown reason, come in the mail despite the fact that I haven't paid for a subscription....and I was shocked over something in a short article I found within. I actually never read the unsolicited magazines, I usually just recycle them unopened but I was bored and feeling quite sorry for myself today so I opened it up and found this interesting article, titled, "13 Things Your Pediatrician Won't Tell You". The article itself wasn't very shocking in general, but the #2 "thing" your pediatrician won't tell you certainly gave me food for thought. Or rather, it was more like the icing on the cake; something I could have probably guessed at and only served to add to the smorgasbord of already-appalling facts I know about the world of doctors and medicine.

#2 stated "Even though studies show that antibiotics for ear infections are rarely better than watching and waiting for the kids over age two, many of us prescribe them anyway. We want to feel like we're doing something. If I prescribe an antibiotic and a few days later your child feels better, I look like a genius." Um...OKAAAAYYY... So, in essence, this Ped. thinks that it's better for him to feel like he's doing something and to look like a genius in your eyes. Wow. I am not sure I realized that being a doctor was more about ego and feelings than it was about a person's - OUR CHILDREN'S - well being. Hmmpff.

Let me just say here that this was not a biased article. It was as compilation of things - 13 to be exact - that the writer of the article picked up directly from a host of pediatricians, one of which didn't want to be named (gee, I wonder why), and it contained things that made the pediatricians look honest, too. My favorite was #11 - "Don't tell your kids the doctor will give him a shot if he doesn't behave. I won't." Good.

In any case, of course this article (i.e. #2) got my hackles all up and I was bristling with frustration as I was once again brought to a new low of disappointment with the medical field when it comes to the care of not only my health but that of my children. As my friend Shelly pointed out, there are SOME doctors who do take other things into consideration when making a decision about medicine, which I believe is true, too; and she followed up by saying her family has spent 7 years searching out - and drive 4 hours to see - their perfect pediatrician. There ARE doctors out there who do actually care about your health and well-being. Somewhere.

My question is....WHEN did doctors stop being doctors and become these egocentric drones who take your money, give you a prescription and send you on your way without actually finding the ROOT of your problem or taking the time to really search out the BEST way to aide your healing? When did they become so caught up in feeling like they have to be doing something, yet in reality, all they're doing is attempting (half-assed, I must say) to make themselves look like "geniuses" while pumping your kids full of drugs that might do more harm than good? When did they actually stop DOING and start just....I don't know.....being?

OK, let me calm down a little and say that I DO know that there are good doctors out there. I know this. I know they aren't all like this. For instance, we met a lovely gentleman who was our son's surgeon when he was in the hospital for an infection and what they supposed might be Lyme Disease. A "gentle giant," very quiet and patient, he sat with us discussing things for quite awhile. After surgery, he walked with us almost all the way back to post-op recovery explaining how everything went and when we kept pressing for more info, he was very patient and kind and thorough. At our post-op visit weeks later, he was so laid back and caring. He didn't act like he had anything else in the world to do that day except answer our questions and talk to us about our son's progress and any issues that may arise from his surgery. He was very knowledgeable and gave us a lot of information about things we can do to help keep him healthy. None of which included drugs. So there's that.

I'm just so concerned with how the medical field seems to be in general. I was interviewed recently for an article for the Patriot News about vaccines. I read the article after it was published and found that a certain pediatric office was interviewed as well, making comments about how if you don't stay on their recommended vaccine schedule they'll "suggest their practice might not be the best one for you." However, they don't just suggest that their practice isn't suitable for you, they have signs posted everywhere in their office, lobby and exam rooms threatening that if you aren't going to take care of your child properly, you're not welcome there at all.

What concerns me is that doctors don't seem to be trained anymore to DO anything but suggest the things Big Pharma controls - drugs - and they don't know how to get to the source of your issue or how to treat it with out having to take drugs. Yes, I do believe that some pharmaceuticals are needed for some things. I don't, however, believe that they're needed for EVERYTHING, which seems to be the case these days. Our society, our children, are heavily over-prescribed when health problem could be easily taken care of by a healthier diet or exercise regimen, a natural food source, drinking more water, avoiding certain things like processed foods and artificial flavors and colors... The human body is an amazing thing and God created it to be able to heal itself in so many ways without ever needing much more than an extra vitamin or some fruit. He created nature to work in much the same way - for us - creating fruits and vegetables, plants and seeds that are each healthy and healing for specific parts of our bodies.

A few months ago, I went to my doctor complaining of a host of problems. After an exam, and blood work, at my follow-up appointment, she went through my list and told me she didn't really have any answers for me. All my blood tests came back "normal," (which I have to confess I'm not sure I agree that their recommended box of "normal" is where I fit....or where a lot of people fit for that matter.) She said that if I wanted some sort of medication, we could talk about that. I left her office feeling sort of defeated. I had all these problems that had just sort of cropped up and had no idea what to do about them. I started taking vitamins derived from a whole-food source and I took about 4,000 - 6,000 i.u.'s of Vitamin D per day also. One of the problems I had been having for almost a year by then was severe pain in my elbows - mostly in my left elbow but sometimes also in my right. My doctor told me she didn't know what it was and told me to take extra strength Tylenol for awhile to see if that helps. (I had already been doing that and it hadn't helped. One. Bit.) After just a few weeks of taking Vitamin D, my pain was gone!

A lot of the time, drugs just mask the underlying problems and don't do much else. There is so much evidence out there showing that we can be healthy and fight diseases without the use of drugs. But what are our doctors doing about it? Nothing!

I Just Can't Take It Anymore! Book Review and Giveaway!!

2012-01-29T18:07:00.000-05:00

Recently, I was contacted by Anthony DeStefano once again to do a book review for his newest book I Just Can't Take It Anymore. Previously, I posted a review for his books, The Invisible World and Little Star. I was delighted to receive another solicitation from him to review yet another book of his. Not only that, but I also have the opportunity to give away a copy to one lucky reader here! But first...the review...

I Just Can't Take It Anymore is a delightful book for those struggling to cope with the inevitable downs in life. We've all been privy to tough times, especially lately I think, and this book is sure to be a pick-me-up for those days when you feel like you really just can't take it anymore! Each page portrays a different piece of an entire thought-process one might go through when they just don't understand life. Accompanied by photos of children in scenarios that capture each thought, the musings in this book are a sobering reminder that we all go through bad times, but that God is trying to use these moments as lessons of His infinite and gracious love, if we just put our faith in Him.

The books begins with a little girl sitting in a field of grass with her hands on her cheeks. The first sentence is "Sometimes I just don't understand life." What a powerful beginning as it is something WE ALL have said at one time or another! About the half the book goes through thoughts like this, relaying the same feelings we all can have sometimes. One of my favorite thoughts is "Sometimes I wonder if God is really up there or - even worse - if He just doesn't care. (accompanied by a cute child with binoculars to the sky) Then the next page reads "But down deep, I know that can't be true because life can be so beautiful too." (accompanied by a baby wearing sunglasses, sitting on a beach chair with a beautiful ocean as the backdrop.) How many times have we had this same sequence of feelings and emotion? I know I have on many occasions!

Mr. DeStefano hits the nail on the head when he finishes the book with an uplifting, encouraging message of hope and faith; reminding us that we need to "go one step at a time," and "...have a little faith that the One who made the universe........can help [us] figure a way to get through all [our] problems....."

The accompanying pictures and the short sentences on each page make this small book a quick read, but at the same time, it is powerful and thought-provoking. I already have someone in mind to give this book to as a gift, as I know she has been struggling with a lot of tough times in her own life lately. It definitely would make a wonderful gift for someone similar in your life, or for yourself if you need some encouragement and a reminder that things will be OK if you just put your faith in God.

If you would like to win your own free copy of this book, please leave a comment here about a tough time you've experienced and kept your faith and saw God's hand through it. Please leave your email so I can contact you if you're the winner. I will have one of my children draw names on Friday, February 3 at noon. Good luck!

If you don't want to wait for this book or would like to order more copies, you can order it on Amazon or through any of your local bookstores.

A Mock Letter From A Post-Abortive Mother

2012-01-25T18:50:00.013-05:00

Dear Friends and Family,

I have something to say that is going to be really hard; both for me to say and for you to hear. But I hope that no matter what, you will love me and support me just as you always have.

When I was younger, I had an abortion. That’s right; I killed a baby. Not just any baby. My baby. Though I didn’t know it then, it would be a changing point in my life that would lead me to some very dark places, some I am still trudging through.

Now if you are still reading, I’d like to tell you how I felt then and what I am feeling now, and why I felt the need to confess this to you.

You see, I was so scared upon finding out I was pregnant. I was alone and frightened and didn’t know what it would mean for me. I didn’t know how to be a mother. I didn’t think I could change my life enough. I didn’t know if I wanted to change my life enough. I was in a relationship but I didn’t know what the future held. I thought maybe we’d get married but I didn’t know. I had plans that didn’t include a baby and my boyfriend didn’t seem to want a child either. I was told the baby was not really a baby; that it was just a mass of cells, and that it would be the easiest thing to just get rid of it. I didn’t know then that my baby’s heart was already beating; that his life had been planned long before he came to be inside of me.

After I had the abortion, life was very different. The world seemed more grayish and I felt like this huge hole had developed inside of me; though at the time, I couldn’t really figure out that it was because of the abortion. Only being able to look back now has shown me that…and so much more. Things started getting really tense between my boyfriend and me. We were fighting and we didn’t even know why.

I cried a lot, feeling a sense of loss I have never ever felt in my entire life. I felt disappointed and resentful toward my boyfriend, though I couldn’t really pinpoint why, not at the time. I spiraled down into depression. My behavior was often erratic; as I’m sure some of you might remember. I am sorry that I could never tell you why. Some days I thought about killing myself. Other days I just stared at the wall, paralyzed inside of myself, going through the ‘what ifs.’ I tried to push it all down inside of me; to go on as if nothing was wrong, as if I hadn’t done what I did. Some days I succeeded; other days…not so much.

Looking back on that fateful day that I walked into that place to get rid of my baby, I wish someone had been there to tell me I was about to make the biggest mistake of my life. I wish someone had told me that my baby was alive inside of me; that he was not just a blob of cells and that he had specific DNA, a heart that was beating….that he would change my life in such a huge, important and amazing way if I would just give him a chance. I didn’t think about any of that. All I thought about was myself; that I couldn’t handle a baby, that I didn’t want my life to change. Funny how things work out, huh? My life changed in a way I never even saw coming.

Thinking about my baby and what I gave up along with his life, I realize that I gave up a part of myself that I will never get back. The chance to be a mother to that specific child. The chance to rise above a less-than-ideal situation and all the challenges it presents and say “I did it.” The gift of new life - for me and my child… I didn’t think about the fact that I would in fact be doing something so much more difficult and painful in the long run because of the abortion, than what I thought having and raising a child would be.

Something else I didn’t think about back then was that I wasn’t just getting rid of my child (and at the time, I didn’t think of him as such), but that I was getting rid of your nephew, your cousin, your uncle, your grandson, your brother, your friend. And even though my boyfriend was ok with it, I didn’t think about what he might go through as the father of a child he’d never know. I didn’t think about the impact that child’s life could have had on any of you. I didn’t think about the fact that I was robbing the world of another soul, one who could have grown up to do great things like find the cure for cancer or change kids’ lives as a teacher or coach, or be the president that would restore the nation. I didn’t think about these things. I didn’t think about how you might feel if you had known what I was going to do. And now, now you will never know. You will never get to hold him, to know him, to love him. You will never see his tiny fingers and toes or smell his sweet baby skin. You will never see him grow up; hit milestones, light the world on fire with his smile. You won’t. And I won’t.

I won’t ever get to experience the tiny movements inside of me that only could belong to him, or his personality which would have stretched and spread my heart open wide, or the infinite and unconditional love only he could give in his own special way. I am so sorry for this. For you, and for myself. I am sorry that I just didn’t realize that this child was indeed a child, one with a soul, personhood, a plan mapped out by the Father who creates all life.

I have a two year old now, as you know. I look at her and wonder what it would have been like for her to have a big brother – one to protect her when things get tough; to team up against me, to fight with, to play with. I wonder how different her personality is from what his was. How different my body looked and felt carrying her compared to what it would have been like to carry him. How her birth differed from what his “birth” was. My heart breaks the most for her. Will I ever tell her about this? About her brother who I stole from her before he could ever take a breath? Will she understand? Will she forgive me?

Please don’t cry for me. But if you do; please know that I have cried many thousands of tears more than you ever could. I have a hole, not only in my heart but in my soul – one that I’m not sure can ever be filled again. The grief of this tragedy that I brought about knows no bounds; it hungers for more and it takes as much of me as it wants. I only hope that someday, somehow I will be able to find forgiveness from God, from you, and from myself. I try to go on with my life and I know that in some way, I haven’t faced the depth of this horrible sin. I am trying.

I know you must be angry with me. I’d be angry too if I knew you took something so valuable from my life without my ever knowing, seeing or touching it. I understand that anger. I deserve it. But please, don’t let your anger turn your hearts from me. I need you now more than ever and I can’t go through this alone. I need prayer, and patience. But most of all, I need love. I am so so sorry for the pain I have caused you and maybe you think it would have been better for me to not let you know. But I could not keep this from you any longer. You deserve to know, to grieve your loss, to grieve his life. He deserves that, too.

Please keep me in your prayers. I desperately need them.

With love, humility and sorrow,

M.J.

Please note: This is NOT about me, as you can hopefully tell by the fictitious initials I signed. I woke up at 5 this morning with some of the words to this letter running through my head. I wasn’t sure why it was in there and frankly, I really wanted to go back to sleep. But I felt a tugging on my heart from the Lord that I was meant to write these words down. I didn’t do it right away as I should have (sorry, Lord, I know I need to work on that), but I did think about them a lot throughout the day and found time in the semi-quiet of this evening to get it all out. I wasn’t sure what it would end up being. I wrote it out of the depths of understanding from working with post-abortive mothers and fathers, knowing a few personally, reading about some, and knowing and studying the psychological, emotional and physical ramifications of abortion. I wrote it from understanding of being in the place of some of the family/friends of a post-abortive mother, someone who will never have the pleasure of knowing and loving those tiny people whose mothers did not give them a chance at life. And I write it from the understanding of losing 2 children myself, not through my own doing but through miscarriage. The thoughts and pain I went through from that – never knowing how my baby would feel moving inside of me, his/her personality, the relationship he/she would have had with siblings and aunts and uncles and grandparents - has made me think about how much more grief a mother who actually makes the choice to end her child’s life must go through - even if they're unaware of that grief.

It has taken me a long time to get to a place of compassion and love for any woman who chooses this path. That love and compassion has expanded to depths I could never have imagined over the past few years, and especially these past few months that I have worked at the center, hearing stories of post-abortive and abortion-minded mothers and helping some myself. By the grace of God, this “passion” I have for the cause of LIFE, has grown into not just a passion but a calling. As Christians, we are all called to defend and protect life. It is a great tragedy in this nation in the year 2012 that we live as barbarians, killing off our own children in the name of “choice.” True Christians and God-fearing people don’t need “evidence” to know the truth of that calling, to understand the sanctity of human life. For everyone else, if you will do even the littlest bit of research, you will find that even science can’t deny the absolute personhood and life of a human baby even in its most early stages of growth in the womb. I pray for an end to abortion – not just for the sake of all those millions of babies who die in this way each year, but for the sake of the mothers who lose so much more than they could ever dream of when they take the life of their child.

One of my most favorite passages in the Bible, especially being a mother of a growing family, is Psalm 127:3-5 – “Children are a gift from the Lord; the fruit of the womb, a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children born in one's youth. Blessed are they whose quivers are full. They will never be shamed contending with foes at the gate.” This states that not only are children a blessing and a gift but MANY children are, AND having a “quiver-full” of them actually protects you from evil! Another passage I enjoy is Psalm 139: 13-15 – “You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, so wonderfully you made me; wonderful are your works! My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you, When I was being made in secret, fashioned in the depths of the earth.” This passage tells us that God knew us before He ever BEGAN knitting us in our mother’s wombs! How amazing is that? Let us all pray for an end to abortion; and for the healing and conversion of all post-abortive women and men.

A Lie Is A Lie Is A Lie.....

2012-01-19T09:30:00.012-05:00

The other day a friend had a status up on Facebook about a lie she told to her young daughter. She lamented that she felt guilty, which is a sure sign she has a good heart and knew she had done wrong. But she was met with a ton of responses about how it's okay to lie and that it isn't hurting anybody. My favorite was "everyone lies." Oh my. Because everyone doing something wrong suddenly makes it right. I think that was a lesson my mother taught me when I was like 5 - just because everyone is doing it doesn't make it right... Where were these people's parents growing up? Didn't they learn the same values? Or is it that the numbing of today's society and the lowering of our standards across the board has led to this split of reality into a parallel universe where Satan rules and everything that is wrong is actually right?

The truth is that no, while we might be living in a society where Satan does in fact have a strong hold on many people, Satan does not rule. God rules and He promised to destroy all evil. But He calls us to help Him. He charges Christians with the feat of fighting evil, of resisting temptation, of running the devil and his minions out; and most importantly, of standing up for what is right. How do we do that? Well, we could start with the Ten Commandments. The Ten Commandments were given to us as not just guidelines but RULES to follow - commands that God gave to His people to live by in order to have a close relationship with Him and keep evil from dominating.

Let's look at one of my favorite commandments to talk to my children about.. Thou Shalt Not Lie. This commandment, like the others, has no stipulations. There are no amendments that say "unless you are in trouble" or "unless it makes someone do what you want...." etc. It states that you shall not lie. Period. It doesn't go into detail about what lies are okay and what lies aren't. Little white lies....big fat lies...zingers...tall tales...fibs...whoppers... Aren't they all the same? They are all inherently wrong. The point of a lie is to deceive. Why would you want to deceive anyone you love and respect? Satan is the father of lies, the father of deception. Even with a "little white lie" we are giving him a tiny route into our hearts. The more small lies we relay, the easier it becomes to deceive on a bigger scale.

No good can ever come from a lie. Even if you don't see an outward effect on you or the person you have lied to, lies still burrow into our souls and start destroying us from the inside. God said that when we stand before Him on Judgement Day, we will have to answer to every single thing we've ever done wrong in our lives. Every.Single.Thing. Not just the big things but every solitary small thing as well. That includes lying. In the grand scheme of things, all these lies and deceptions we allow to slip through our lips show up like great big blotches of darkness. Even if the majority of the tapestry is sewn in brilliant golden colors, these black threads stretch and feather out across, tearing holes in an otherwise seamless and beautiful picture of our soul. How ugly and ruinous! Can you imagine handing our souls back to God that day, with all of that blackness covering it, having to then explain why there is so much?

As is obvious from the 99% of the responses to my friend's status, our world has lost its ability to decipher right from wrong. They have now added those imaginary amendments to the Commandments, and everything is subject to one's own opinion. I was the only one who stood up for what was right, lovingly admonishing my friend for lying, offering an alternative solution to her problem. The only one. I couldn't believe it. It made me feel sad for my friend who didn't seem to have one person on that list other than myself who actually cared about the state of her soul and her relationship with her daughter. But I was even more sad for society as a whole as this scenario was just one more painful reminder that we are indeed losing our ability to do what is right. Not only that, but we are also afraid to tell other people what is right. Since everyone considers everything as an opinion instead of a fact, we therefore are not allowed to say what our "opinions" are without fear of backlash. I find it incredibly frustrating in scenarios like this, but even more-so in scenarios amidst people who are supposed to be Christians.

So what do we do? How do we get off this slippery slope of self-destruction and folly? How do we turn the tides and start living as a society as if we actually care about the state of our souls and that of our friends and family? Being in this situation on a constant basis with some family members, fearful of doing what we are called to do as Christians and declare what is right and help them turn their hearts to the Lord, my husband and I have just taken to praying specifically for them and for opportunities to arise which will allow us to set the example our Lord wants us to, regardless of our fear of backlash. Even though both our pasts are muddled with mistakes, including deception, our path now leads us on the correct route and we strive very hard to do what we know we are asked to do.

Sometimes, lying to our children seems to be the easiest tool to get them to do what we want, as was probably so for my friend. But it's imperative that we take every opportunity to set a good example for our children and each other. We also need to pray for ourselves - that no matter what the situation, we always stand up for what is right, never giving in to society's ridiculous claim that everything is a matter of opinion. After all, if we surround ourselves with deceivers, we too will become like them. But if we rise up against that way of life, becoming righteous and holy, we will be renewed in the Spirit and live our life in the truth of Jesus.

"...that you should put away the old self of your former way of life, corrupted through deceitful desires, and be renewed in the spirit of your minds, and put on the new self, created in God's way in righteousness and holiness of truth." ~Ephesians 4:22-24

A Target, A Sword, And The Solemnity of Mary

2012-01-01T13:23:00.011-05:00

I have a target on my heart. As a Christian, it's been there since the day I was born, though I'm positive it grew wider and more illuminated the day I was baptized into the Catholic Church as a baby, and even more so with each sacrament I have received in my life. Since I became a mother, it has ballooned and brightened exponentially. The target is a beacon for Satan - his homing device with which he searches me out as he roams the earth seeking the ruin of souls. At each stage of my life, on a daily basis, he is there, waiting to pounce.

I've been feeling him close lately. He has honed in on my heart's desires (which ultimately are to serve the Lord) and illuminated them; expanding and intensifying them. You would think this is a good thing and it would be something Satan would not do. However, he's a sneaky jerk, that Satan and he does it because he knows how it affects me. As he intensifies my desires and makes them larger in my mind and heart, he dwarfs their source and purpose. He covers up all but the last shred of distinction between why I have this desire and the goal of obtaining what it is I desire. It paralyzes me. I become obsessed with it. I forget to breathe, to do, to be. As my friend Judy reminds me, "Satan's greatest achievement is to paralyze you. There is no neutrality in our Faith; we either move closer to Christ or away from Him at every moment. Since you are strong in Christ Satan knows he is not going move you away from Him...so he tries to paralyze you so that you feel incapable of moving at all."

This morning, I couldn't move at all as I lay in bed and thought about the same old melancholy things, and about how I didn't feel well and how very tired I was. It is Sunday. And it's not just any Sunday- it's the feast day of the Solemnity of our blessed mother, Mary. A joyous occasion, something to celebrate and commemorate and prayerfully rejoice in. But nonetheless, I went over in my head all the reasons why I just couldn't go to Mass. I wasn't feeling well. Two of the girls were snotty and coughing. My husband's throat was sore and he mentioned that our son wasn't feeling well either. I jumped at the chance to stay home with them. I didn't want to get out of bed. Satan fed me lie after lie of why I didn't need to go to Mass. Aren't you mad at God anyway because He hasn't let you move homes yet? Don't you feel abandoned by Him because you haven't felt Him near lately? There's nothing at Mass that you can't have right here at home. Then he went on to lie to me about why I must not really like being a mother. Why do the kids always come in to your bed in the morning? The youngest is so annoying, why can't she just can't stay in her own bed all night?

I felt my target blink brightly like a neon sign at the beginning of a workday. I was open for solicitation. And solicit he did. But then, Angelina came in and got in our bed. She snuggled close and asked for breakfast. Then she asked the question. Aren't we going to church today? Angelina and I usually go early on Sunday mornings at 7:30. She knew we missed it. Since the kids didn't have Sunday School, my plan had been for all of us to go at 11. But that was before he showed up, assaulting me with his deception and guile.

But Angelina's question was pretty much all I needed to muster up a two-edged sword and slash Satan's grasp on me. I thanked Mary, as I know she must have played a huge part in sending my daughter to distract me from my paralysis and remind me of my purpose- to serve her holy Son, to praise His name, to revere His word and His plan for my life. To receive Him in the form of the Eucharist. To obtain His grace. To reject Satan. To be a good mother to the precious children God entrusted me with. Today specifically, I was also to seek out a special bond of unity with her as she is the Mother of Christ, therefore a great intercessor when it comes to mothering my own children. The Lord allowed her to remind me of this through the innocence of my darling daughter. Aren't we going to church today? Of course we are, honey. Of course we are.

I got out of bed, hopped in the shower and dressed while Joe rose to make pancakes and coffee. The other kids and he were pretty under the weather so Angelina and I went to Mass alone. However, Angelina's target must blink brightly as well because she randomly dispensed such an attitude; a very gruff and negative disposition before we left the house. She didn't want to go all of the sudden. Even into the first 15 minutes of Mass she seemed withdrawn and upset. I had no idea how to deal with her. She is my strange child, difficult to understand; her behavior heart-wrenching to deal with ~~sometimes~~ a lot of the time. The only thing I could think to do was tell her to say a Hail Mary and try to follow along in her MagnifiKid. A few minutes later, she looked up from her magazine and whispered that she had prayed. After that, she was different. She participated a little. She sang some songs toward the end. She was happier. By the end of Mass, my heart was on fire again and it wasn't because of my neon target. My daughter, with a two-edged sword of her own and through the intercession of the Mother of Christ, had been able to reject Satan's temptations, celebrate Mary's motherhood and rejoice in the Lord's holiness and grace along with me.

On the Fourth Day Of Christmas, My True Love Gave To Me: A Lesson In Humility

2011-12-28T11:37:00.016-05:00

For Unto Us A Child Is Born.*

It is the fourth day of the Christmas season and even though I am not naive about the world, I am still always surprised how quickly it gets over Christmas. People are already taking down trees and decorations and I'm trying to figure out how to keep my tree alive for the next week and a half to celebrate the feast of the Epiphany with it still intact. If you don't know, Epiphany is the celebration of the wise men coming to visit Jesus (which, contrary to popular belief was NOT on the day He was born!). Lately, I have been thinking of the 12 days of Christmas, and that song - which is kind of annoying - runs through my head. I kept trying to figure out words I could replace the original words with, indicating my "true love" as the real True Love, Jesus Christ. But for some reason my brain just doesn't want to cooperate. Chalk it up to the craziness of the past week, and my mommy brain of course. (I like to pull out that card AS MUCH as possible, by the way!) Epiphany is on the 12th day of Christmas, January 6th. This year it's celebrated on Sunday the 8th. I forget why...maybe I should look that up.

In any case, I am contemplative of the fact that there are so many celebrations of the holiday within my family and circle of friends and they range in varying degrees of meaning - from "gift exchange" to "celebrating Christ's birth" and everything in between. We have had two celebrations already, each of which were one of the two kinds I just mentioned, and we have a third one to attend this Friday, which is the 6th day of Christmas. For the past three years, I've tried to make the Advent season a time of true preparation, and not just for the celebrations and gift-giving. I've tried to prepare my heart, and work on instilling in the children a sense of wonder and desire to prepare theirs as well. After all, it is in fact a celebration of the birth of our Savior, a the King . The festivities that ensue of course are fun, and in our own limited human nature are a good "representation" of the joy and exultation we Christians feel in our hearts as we commemorate the birth of Christ. But at the same time, they often get out of hand, stressful, overwhelming to the point where we forget the true purpose and meaning of Christmas.

I can't tell you how many times I heard someone talk about how overwhelmed and stressed out they were trying to plan and shop and bake and decorate. For weeks, I heard about sales and discounts and deals, yet very little of preparing our hearts and minds for the coming of the Lord. What a relief it was at Mass every Sunday of Advent to hear our priest talk about not just preparing ourselves to celebrate the birth of Christ- the first coming of God, but to remember that we are to be preparing our hearts and souls for His second coming; the return of the King, which can happen ANY time.

It was a relief and a challenge, for I myself was one of the people stressed out about the preparations for the celebratory aspect of the holiday. And the challenge didn't just come from our priest, it came from other sources as well. Right before Christmas, I lamented to a friend on one of my down days that I was frustrated with my husband for not helping more. He has been home as the winter season is slow for our business, yet hadn't done much to help me prepare for the three different family visits that would take place to celebrate the holiday. It was stressful for me, as I had all these visions of what needed to be done, I was hard at work planning and creating thoughtful gifts for his family and mine, planning what to get and do for the children, leading them in Advent activities and prayers, baking and decorating. I was doing almost everything I thought needed to be done on top of my regular duties, and I was just exhausted, my frustration oozing out in the direction of my unsuspecting husband.

My friend, however, is so wise and loving that she challenged and admonished me in such a way that made me think about the fact that my heart was slowly moving in the wrong direction in regards to celebrating this joyous occasion. On Christmas Eve I received her response to my email to her. She challenged me with Philippians 4:8: "think on what is true, what is right and lovely" and she asked me what we really NEED to have a Merry Christmas. Could I be frustrated with Joe in my heart and truly except the gift of God's Love and salvation through the Christ child? One thing I have been trying to instill in my children is a heart to serve, as I have been working on that in myself as well. My friend gave me another passage in Philippians to contemplate: "In your relationships with one another, have the same mindset as Christ Jesus...he made himself nothing by taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, he humbled himself...."**

I was humbled by this passage. Not only was I losing focus and throwing away all the efforts I had made over the last 4 weeks of Advent to prepare my heart, but I was allowing myself to affect my relationship with my husband in a negative way because I was unable to be in the same mindset as Jesus. I wasn't viewing my physical efforts to get ready for our celebrations as an act of servitude, I was viewing them almost as drudgery - a burden for which I had no help. But how much of a servant was God for sending His only Son; for Christ to humble Himself by becoming a helpless baby born in a stable surrounded by animals, and then leading a life as a servant of God's people?

I was challenged by these verses, humbled by their nature. And by my friend's question: What do we really NEED to have a Merry Christmas? ~~Her~~ The answer: a heart ready to accept the salvation God offers us by sending His only Son to die for us. In this culture, even Christians are entrapped by the illusions of the season, the stress of preparations for the perfect day, regardless of their intentions at the start. Most holiday music invokes in us a sense of excitement and anticipation but the focus of that excitement is wrong. It focuses on the tree, the stockings hung by the chimney with care, family spending time together (which isn't a bad thing in and of itself), food, traveling, shopping, baking, gifts. But in in the midst of everything a voice is calling out to us, massaging our hearts to awaken to the true spirit and wonder of the season: The Christ child, born in humility and servitude, sent to die for us as a sure sign of God's perfect Love.

The greatest Gift of all.

Today my husband is in bed, sick. As I continue to keep in mind the joy of the season and rejoice in the truth of God's perfect Gift, the position I am placed in to care for Joe reminds me again that we are to be humble servants, continuing to prepare our hearts for Christ as we approach the feast of the Epiphany. Epiphany ends the Christmas season and brings us into Ordinary Time until Lent begins. Lent, like Advent, is a solemn time to prepare our hearts but for THE greatest act of humility, servitude and Love- Christ's death and resurrection. But every day should be used as an opportunity to humble ourselves as Christ did. As an infant God took on the most perfect form of innocence, wonder, and humility. To be like-minded, we must humble ourselves in the same way, viewing life through the eyes of a child - the Christ child - and serve in much the same way as He.

*(Isaiah 9:6)
**Philippians 2: 5, 7,8 (NIV)

A Person's A Person. No Matter How Small...

2011-11-27T21:05:00.025-05:00

Yesterday marked one year since I lost our baby. I remember the first few months being so numb and dark after I learned that I was miscarrying our son or daughter. It was a devastating time but in thinking throughout this past year of the short life my baby lived, how small s/he was, and even the great sorrow of my loss, I saw glimpses of the greatness that s/he represented, reminding me of a very important fact of life: A person IS a person, no matter how small. And God's gift of life is the greatest of all.

(Note: In the interest of making more sense with less words, from here on out, I will refer to the baby as "he" or "him" in the parts about the loss of my baby.)

We found out in mid November last year that I was pregnant, and decided to tell everyone on Thanksgiving. The first people to find out that day were our "PA parents," two generous and loving people who have taken us under their wing, treated us as if we were their own, and last year had invited us to Thanksgiving dinner at their home. We adorned Sophia with a shirt I decorated with puffy paint. Four stick figures were drawn across the bottom, and a baby carriage. The shirt read "Big Sister 2011." That night, we joined my family in Frederick for dessert. I can't remember who was the first to notice the shirt but everyone was ecstatic by the time the news rolled through the house. But the next day, I started bleeding. The following week it was confirmed that I lost the baby.

Just 6 or so weeks along he was. And yet, his personhood had already indented a place in my heart. At 6 weeks his own heart was formed and beating, the areas for his legs and arms were little stubs ready to spring into growth. He was but a few millimeters yet his presence was enormous. He was an individual soul, living inside of me, borrowing my body for a short time, just like each of his siblings before him. He was a huge life changer, both by his life and his loss.

Yesterday also marked a sad occasion for someone else. A friend of my sister's buried two of her own babies. Lost at 24 weeks gestation, her twins, Josephine Angelina and Nadia Rose, were laid to rest after suffering complications from a torn placenta and then TTTS. Their mother went into preterm labor on a Sunday morning and her babies could not be saved. These babies, whose very lives hung in the balance for so long, these same babies that were so small and so fragile, were huge life-changers for their parents and family, both in their life and in their loss.

This past summer, just a few short months ago, marked the 1 year anniversary of the loss of a little boy named Declan. He was just shy of his first birthday when cancer claimed his life for good in August of 2010. Declan's battle with cancer was courageous. It was difficult. It was awe-inspiring and the details of it, which were so painstakingly related to us through the humbling blog of his parents, were relentless in their challenge to the hearts of many. That challenge simply was - fight for our children. Declan, too, was small, but he was a huge life-changer for so many of us, both in his life and in his loss.

All 4 of these babies, and all the babies who have ever been miscarried or who died soon after birth, were individual souls who were created for purposes unknown to us. They were tiny lives that were lost before they got to know what life is really like here in the world. But they did have a life inside the secret darkness of their mothers' wombs. Declan had almost a whole year outside of the protection of his mother's body. The twins knew only moments of this world. But they all knew some measure of a life of comfort and peace, of complete dependence and warmth. Of undeniable love. From the moment they were conceived, they had a soul. They made their mark in the Master's painting and made a splash in the lives of all who loved them.

There are so many differences in the stories of each of these precious babies. The situations and details surrounding the life and death of each one are incomparable. Yet there is one thing that each baby has in common. That is that they were people. At 6 weeks gestation, at 24 weeks gestation, or a few weeks shy of a first birthday, each baby mattered. Each baby's heart beat. Each baby knew love and pain. Each baby was a perfect gift; a special individual created by God for His purpose. It was His choice when and how they lived, and when and how they died.

The grief attached to losing a child knows no bounds. Some say that if a baby dies in utero, it's not the same as the loss of a baby who has already been born. I don't believe that's true. Ask that young mama who just lost her twins at 24 weeks, watched them take their first breaths..and their last within moments, and then had to suffer through a funeral for them. And then ask every single mother who lost a baby very early on in pregnancy, only to go through the next year a shadow of a person, mourning the loss of a baby they never got a chance to hold. Neither one would say that their situation is worse because most women know the value of a human soul - no matter what "stage" of life its body was in. It is often in these dark and painful moments of grief when we realize the power of one individual soul, his or her significance to the bigger picture of God's world, and the reality of his or her presence - or lack-there-of - here on earth.

"So let that be a lesson to one and to all...A person's a person. No matter how small." ~Horton the Elephant in Horton Hears a Who by Dr. Seuss

Preparing for Advent

2011-11-14T14:49:00.016-05:00

It is now mid-November and I am struggling to figure out where the year has gone. Peering out my window, I notice dark clouds looming close on the horizon, threatening yet another rain; reminding me that I also have no idea where Fall has gone. The weather is sort of warmish today but it comes on the heels of many bouts of cold and rain since Fall officially began. In fact, we have had much rain this year since the onset of Spring, and I'm left puzzling over this fact as well.

And yet, time still ticks on.

So we have seen from the calendar pages flipping steadily from month to month, leading us closer and closer to ending the year; much too close to ushering in a new one for my taste. Christmas decorations have been up in stores since before Halloween. Thanksgiving is but a week away. It seems this last quarter of the year seems to fly by so fast, creating a whirlwind of activity and chaos that often leaves me on the brink of despair.

Advent is fast approaching and I'd like to devise a plan for this year that surpasses my half-attempts from last year. One which solves all of the age-old issues of bustling through the season leading up to Christmas without knowledge of where the best of intentions end and reality begins. Last year we did a few activities which kept with the theme of "Jesus is the reason for the season." I have to LOL here at that phrase. It's so corny yet SO TRUE. And we often forget. In the chaos of shopping and running around and fighting crowds, we do forget why we have this holiday.

CHRISTMAS. It is about Jesus- His entrance into the world, God's gift of love to us poor sinners. And yet, sometimes shopping and "holiday" parties seem more forefront and looming- like those dark clouds threatening rain outside my window. We're not big shoppers. As much as we'd like to be, we're just not. Even if we had the money to be big shoppers, I'm not sure we would be. I'd like to be a big MAKER. Yes, a maker of fun/yummy/interesting home-spun gifts. I'd like to spend my time creating thoughtful gifts that speak to the hearts of the recipients; ones which remind them that they are in my heart and perhaps speak to the joy and love of which this beautiful season is about. I do this on a small scale, but I'd like to do more. My gifts can never be as grand as the ultimate Gift that was given to the world thousands of years ago, but I'd like them to be more special than a brightly-colored plastic thing-a-ma-bob from China.

Advent is a time to prepare our hearts and minds to once again receive that special Gift that was given to us so long ago. It is so important to convey the real reason for the season to our children and make them a part of our preparation. Making an Advent wreath and lighting the candles each week, creating a Jesse tree, making religious decorations and cards are all fun activities to do with the children in preparation for Christmas. Last year we had an Advent calendar that I made from an old Christmas table cloth and in the pockets, I put scraps of paper with a bible verse from the nativity story and an activity idea written on each piece. Sometimes, the pockets also contained a small treat for each child- a piece of chocolate or a mini candy cane. We read the verse from the nativity story and colored a corresponding picture which I printed out from a resource on the Internet. Then we did our activity. Sometimes, it was just saying a prayer for someone. Other times, it was creating fun crafts like cinnamon-scented ornaments, or shopping for gloves and hats for less-fortunate kids.

Every year I feel surprised by how fast Advent approaches and yet, I shouldn't be, should I? Even in the busyness and chaos of our daily life, I should be looking forward to the times throughout the year that we are called to remember and celebrate God's greatest Gift to the world. I shouldn't feel surprised because they happen at the same time very year and I have all year to prepare. And yet, I don't prepare enough. So this year, I'm going to attempt to spend more time preparing activities for the kids and our family to do to remind us of Jesus, preparing my heart for the blessings of the season, and helping to make our home into one that celebrates Him and His infinite love for us.

What do you do to prepare for the season? I'd love to hear your ideas!

Also: Here are some resources for Christmas crafts and activities to prepare for Advent with your children:

http://www.thebestofhomeschoolfaithandfamilylife.com/Advent-devotions.html
http://catholicmom.com/advent_kids.htm
http://deniseoliveri.suite101.com/christian-christmas-crafts-a35700
http://www.dltk-holidays.com/xmas/religious.html
http://www.enchantedlearning.com/crafts/christmas/

Family Prayer Time

2011-10-26T20:31:00.011-04:00

When I was younger, on many - albeit sporadic - occasions my mom tried to wrangle the seven of us kids into the living room, along with my dad - who was inevitably tired and grouchy after a long day of work - and engage in some semblance of family time. A lot of the time, prayer was on the agenda, but often got drowned out by the heightened emotional drama that bounces around the atmosphere of a small house with nine occupants and not a lot of really good communication skills.

In many ways we were a close-knit family, and in many ways we were as broken as the rest of them. But despite all that, my mom tried her best to do what she knew God asked of her as our mother, and I love her for it. It has been this specific example of "family time" she so lovingly and desperately tried to set for us that has challenged me to attempt to do the same, only hoping to have a much better outcome.

There are some nights that have followed long, exhausting days, and the entire family morale is not exactly at its highest. It is on these nights I have to do everything I possibly can to drag myself out of my hole and make sure we spend at least a few minutes with each other in prayer, thanking God for our day- however horrible it may have been. It's a tough feat on many occasions. And, yes, sometimes I do fail. Thank the Lord that the older 2 children - ages 5 1/2 and 7 (and often, my almost-4 year old as well) - have some awareness of the need because they will most certainly make it known that we will miss family prayer if they just go off to bed. Which is a very important ingredient, that awareness, especially at times like those which teeter painfully close to the edge of failure. Family prayer time has become a ritual in our house; one that started in spurts and even with my best intentions at its core, stopped for long length of time. It began anew about a year ago. With a sense of gusto and determination, we began one of the only traditions our little family has made so far in our seven years together.

It is always a joy to come together as a family, even after the most complicated and heart-wrenching days (which are oft to happen, what with 4 small children, a business to run, homeschooling, and an anxiety-ridden husband). It is so amazing how the innocent mumblings of a fidgety 4 year old can melt the contents of even the hardest days into little more than a memory, replacing the darkness with a peaceful, gentle light. Or to hear our 7 year old thank God for the opportunity to "have a great day" and ask Him to give her a heart to be obedient.

Good stuff, eh?!

My favorite part, I have to say, is when our 2 year old starts us off. She closes her eyes (she used to put her little hands over them), leans forward to bury her face in the covers on our bed and mumbles words mostly inaudible and incomprehensible to us. Sometimes we catch the phrase "thank you for this day," which is said by each of us when we take our turn. The rest...we can only guess at. But God knows, doesn't He? And I can be pretty certain that He is listening intently, probably chuckling a little, and is taking the opportunity to settle Himself in her tiny 2-year-old heart so as to awaken in her a sense of Him- His infinite love and grace.

We usually have an entire evening ritual. I am unsure as to whether I've yet written about how HORRIBLE our evenings usually go with actually getting the kids to go to sleep. Somehow, our prayer time before-hand helps a little. They still usually end up staying awake for what seems like years after we finally tuck them in. But somehow, it's more bearable to deal with...most nights. Our ritual consists of getting their jammies on (sometimes they have baths but let's be honest here, they do not get one every night!), brushing their teeth, going around to each member of the family to say out loud whatever we have on our hearts. We then read a story..or five. Finally, it's off to bed.

I kinda like that cheesy phrase "the family that prays together, stays together." I feel like it's true in many respects, because we are forming bonds with each other using the strongest thread there is - prayer to a gracious and loving Father. Certainly He wants us to maintain that bond and will give us the tools we need to do so. So I pray that God will bless our efforts and that even through the years, we can maintain our tradition and use the time we spend in this way to grow with each other in the strength of our faith and family life. I also pray that even if life's difficulties get in the way sometimes, that our children can always look back on this time and see the intentions; see the efforts and take them as their own, attempting to make the outcome far surpass anything we ever do right now.

Strange Addiction

2011-10-21T13:13:00.007-04:00

Something very interesting has been happening to me over the past few months. I've become addicted to something. This addiction has caused me to change my outlook on life- some in good ways and some in bad, depending on my mood and how often my cravings are satisfied. I'm sort of frightened by this addiction, especially in times when I forget to replenish my fix before it is completely gone. Because at those times I see the world as this squirming, dying mass of darkness, and despite the fact that my heart knows that it's not really that way in most senses, in those moments it cannot see otherwise.

It's a strange addiction because it's not chemical nor emotional. It defies all reasoning of any definition in which the world would normally categorize an addiction. It floats beyond that grasp of understanding; no check list of symptoms will suffice. It really cannot be properly diagnosed, though you can try. I could try.

So what is it that I am addicted to?

It's God. It's the Holy Spirit. The immortal and powerful Word which He gave to us as guidance for our lives. It's scheduling in quiet moments in which I spend time with Him, drowning myself in His radiant light, being filled up with grace and strength and purpose for His divine and perfect Will. I can't get enough of it lately. I am hooked.

I have recently tried to share this notion with several people in my life, in a more subtle way than defining it as an addiction, yet I was met with silence, much the same as I pointed out in this post. It's strange to them. They do not understand. I really don't blame them. I'm not sure I even do.

What I do know is this:

When I do not make time for prayer - and I mean real prayer, not just the "can you please let me have this, or will you do this for me" sort of prayer (which has its own place and time), but real deep silent prayer and meditation in which I open my heart to Him, empty out all the garbage floating around in my head, and bend myself to His Will - I feel peaceful. I feel a sense of joy that, regardless of whether or not I am happy with any particular circumstance or moment in my life, surpasses that fact and shines brilliantly to mask all the garbage that I just released. I feel sort of high. Really.

I then spend my day patiently attending my four small children. Lovingly and respectfully serving my husband. Motivated to do not just what's on my schedule but whatever else I can do to help our home run smoothly. I possess more strength to face the anxiety which has haunted me over the past few ~~months~~ years and can quietly subdue it into a corner in my mind without thinking it's going to attack me the second I turn my back. More than that, is the basic quiet gentleness with myself, and my new-found understanding that I am indeed the daughter of a King. I want to run to Him and spend more time at any spare moment of the day. To get my fill of grace and love. To get my fix.

And when I don't make time for prayer:

I find that when I haven't spent a lot of time in prayer and reading the Bible (I particularly like Psalms these days), I am crazy. Literally.

I lose my temper quickly. I do not like my children. The world seems to look like that dark mass of nothingness I mentioned in the beginning. I lose all sense of purpose and worth. Everyone is my enemy. I hate myself. And the most terrifying: Satan is laughing and giddy and smoking cigars in the corner, unloading all my garbage on top of me as he slaps himself on the back and high fives all the minions he has charged with wandering after me daily. Ugh. I can feel him sliding himself along the floor, inching closer to me and suffocating me with his thick despair. He paralyzes me.

Case in point: I did not spend a lot of time today in prayer. I hadn't yet read the daily readings that I usually do (which, by the way, are linked at the top left of this blog!). My kids were ~~nuts~~ doing what kids do, and I couldn't take it. I was really irritated. I snapped at them. I wanted them to get the heck away from me so I could do what I wanted to do (write my blog post). And then I realized I hadn't been talking to God today much. I went to my daily Mass readings linked here and read the readings and the gospel. I said a silent prayer for peace and grace. I felt much better. I was then able to patiently deal with two of my kids who had apparently sneaked the rest of my dark chocolate bar at some point today. Normally, this would enrage me, especially if I hadn't had my "fix" of God. You just don't mess with my chocolate! Nor do you do something you know is disobedient and disrespectful. But there I was, calmly doling out appropriate punishment for the partners in crime. When whining and crying and backtalk ensued, I was still able to lovingly and quietly tell them I was standing my ground on the punishment and that was that.

But you know, sometimes, I am unsure whether I like how this is. Honestly. Today I was thinking that if I didn't have such a need to begin my day in prayer and go to it throughout the day, I wouldn't have the downs that I do. (Many happened this morning) It makes me sort of angry. Because before it was not like this. Before when I was mostly unaware of this need and could go along as I pleased (something which I have found can be described as spiritual darkness), I found that even the bad times weren't as bad. Ignorance is bliss. Right?

Maybe not.

If I think about it, perhaps that is true for the most part. Perhaps the "bad" times didn't seem all that bad. But then again, there was a different direction for my life, one I'm not sure if God was heading up or not. But now.... now that I know my true north and am trying to follow it, the stakes are higher, aren't they? More is required of me so when I fail, I am punished more. Now that I know how I am to be, act, live, my Heavenly Father expects much more from me. It's kind of the same with older children vs. younger children. I expect my 7 year old to behave more responsibly than my 2 year old. If she fails, her punishment would be more severe than that of my 2 year old if she failed in the same way. My 7 year old knows better. My 2 year old does not. Luke 12:48 is a perfect verse to pull out for this: "Much will be required of the person entrusted with much, and still more will be demanded of the person entrusted with more."

So, in essence, since I have been entrusted with more, He expects more from me than He did before. Once I came to that understanding, I was on a new level of expectations. And a new level of consequences. My "addiction" to spending time with Him is really just a new understanding of my calling as His beloved daughter. And the consequences that ensue if I fail are actually there to remind me that I need Him. Daily.

Addiction or not, it's what I need and though it might sound strange to some, what matters most is that you can't go wrong when you're addicted to God.

When Talking Is Too Much

2011-10-11T12:33:00.007-04:00

I talk a lot. Always have. In grade school, I was constantly shushed by my teachers; my report cards would come home and below the chart depicting my [good] grades would be a note penned from my teacher, "Rebecca is a bright student. Her grades are wonderful. She just talks too much in class." I have to admit that as an adult, I am quite the talker. I talk out of turn. I talk a long time. I talk a lot. I realize this has its faults and yet, I am still having a hard time with just shutting up.

Especially when it comes to God's truth.

So I have found that depending on who I am talking to, this can be a bad thing. I love sharing exciting tidbits of information about God's truth in regards to my own life; like how it affected me in my past, how it turned my life around, how it brought me deeper into my Catholic faith, or even now how His word inspires and uplifts me when I'm having a bad day. And sometimes - a lot of the time - I am met with A) no response at all or B) defensiveness. I'm not sure what the silence is about. I still haven't figured that one out. Did I actually render someone speechless? Was it God's holy word that just brought so much peace to their heart, it made them be quiet..indefinitely? Or something else? Of course, my sensitive mind could think of a million negative reasons but I try not to go there. That's a bad place- one I like to avoid as much as possible.

Then there is the defensiveness. I am not sure I get that. I am only left to assume that it's really a matter of the heart for the other person. Maybe they don't feel the same way I do. Maybe they aren't following God's truth. Maybe my intense conviction that X is the right way for me to live/think (because it's God's truth) makes other people feel convicted by me because they don't live/think that way. Maybe they just feel convicted in general and want to blame me, a la "kill the messenger" style. Maybe they're intimidated by my ability - however faltering it is at times - to follow God's truth and be sustained by it.

I was once told that my talking about these things lets people know where they stand "with me," but I'm not sure I understand exactly what that means. If I'm talking about myself or if I'm sharing God's truth with someone else, how does that make others know where they stand with me? Are they assuming that because I live this certain way or because I am proclaiming God's truth (because that's what He calls Christians to do), that they are any less of a person in my eyes? Or that I don't respect them? Or that I don't love them? God, I hope not! I try to love and respect everyone in my life regardless of what they do or don't believe or how they live their life. Not only that, but I can humbly say that it really doesn't matter what I think. What matters is what God thinks. People should be more worried about that.

In any case, I have a Jewish friend, a Buddhist friend, and several atheist friends. I have Christian friends who believe that pre-marital sex is okay. I have friends - Christian and non-Christian alike - who believe abortion is okay. Or artificial birth control. I am acquainted with several homosexuals. I am Catholic yet most of my friends are not. I have friends and family who do not see eye-to-eye with me on so many different important issues. And I love and pray for them all, and for our relationships. We can all have many respectful conversations about important matters without worrying about whether or not the other person is judging them. It's not about judgment at all. At least not on my end.

Granted, I'm not perfect and loving even my husband is often very hard, let alone someone who challenges every single aspect of my life. But the point is that I kind of have a hard time being quiet...not necessarily about life, but about LIFE, and it has seemed to bite me in the butt more than it has blessed me. My sister was telling me how she, too, has a hard time being quiet but that her wise husband said to her one evening that sometimes it's just better not to say anything at all. BOY IS THAT HARD! One of my friends and I had a discussion about this very thing because we know that we are definitely called as Christians to learn, pray about and share God's word and His truth with others, especially non-Christians. It is our charge to bring others to Him. And yet, so many efforts are misconstrued, taken the wrong way, turned around, taken as judgment, spit on, rejected, etc, etc. So then we worry; are we at all responsible for this person come judgment day because they refused to acknowledge these truths in their life? Could we have done more? Was there something else that could have been said? What about accountability?

What I find very interesting is the word "judgment." That word is thrown around these days like no body's business. And that's the point. People say it is no body's business what they do and others should just leave them alone. To some extent, this is true. But if one person does wrong, they usually aren't just affecting themselves, they are affecting so many other people with their actions. Not only that but often, if someone says "this is the right way because God says so" to another, that doesn't mean they are judging that person; they are merely sharing what God's truth is. Of course, it has to be relayed in a loving manner. But even that is misconstrued by super defensive people. I could call my friend up and excitedly tell her I just found this incredibly uplifting verse in Proverbs and how it relates to my wanting to be a better wife, and because of her own guilty feelings and defensiveness, she might automatically assume I am trying to tell her that she isn't a good wife and she should be like me and read Proverbs more, and then change. Um...what?? Similar scenarios have actually happened to me and I really have a hard time with that.

I think what makes it incredibly personal for me is that often, a person hasn't taken the time to really get to know me, to know my heart, and they automatically assume (because of their own issues or experiences with others) that my motive is negative, judgmental, manipulative, or whathaveyou. The truth is, while I'm not perfect and I do falter and fail and give in to the weakness of my flesh, I do strive toward a holy lifestyle, to be a clean and open vessel for God to dwell in and use to do His work. My soul thirsts for Him. So for someone to just automatically assume the worst of me and my intentions without making the effort to get to know me - and I mean really know me, not just assume they do - it still hurts. Even though I try to remember that it's really their issue, not mine.

It is often better to just not say anything at all. But how do you choose? When do you decide you should just shut your mouth and not say a word, without it affecting your call to share God's truth? My friend Colleen told me today that often, actions are better than words. So I am trying to use that fact as motivation to pray more, talk less, and let the Holy Spirit guide me when I'm dealing with these situations or trying to decide if I should share tidbits of my own life out of excitement or example of how it affects me. Oh it is a fine line, isn't it? And yet, I know deep in my heart that while I am called to bring others to Christ, this does not always mean with my words and hopefully one of these days I really can get to that point of letting go of my need to talk about it, and just let my actions speak instead. I think that would be the best way to love others and bring them to Christ. Not in tongue, but in action.

"...let us love not in word or speech, but in deed and truth." 1 John 3:18

Children and Mass

2011-10-09T14:13:00.015-04:00

Recently, I asked my sister what she thought of my not worrying about my oldest daughter going to Mass. My daughter is 7 and is in the First Communion program at our church. Joe and I had the idea that during the Sunday School year, we'd take advantage of only having one child with us while we attended Mass. The first week, we got them to Sunday School and then we all attended Mass at our regular time of 11 o'clock, but not until after almost an hour of craziness in between the end of school and the start of Mass, and a very horrific experience during Mass. The second week, we put them in school and went to Mass with just our youngest. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized this was probably not a good idea. My wise sister made the point that it's very important for my daughter to be going to Mass, especially at this critical time in her religious education. She should be able to experience the Mass first-hand (not just read about it), watch what is happening on the altar and really work toward understanding that Christ is indeed present in the holy Eucharist.

But before I really could admit that this was very important for her, specifically at this time, I had one major thought in my head. She doesn't even pay attention. As I wrestled with this thought pitted against the importance of her attendance, I really had a hard time. Which is why I asked my sister what she thought. And I have to admit, I already knew the answer; I think that's why I asked. I wanted a little extra motivation to beat that idea out of my head and give in to what I already knew was right. If I had someone other than God (my daughter's godmother no less) to be accountable to, it would make it a lot easier for me to do what was right. Funny how that works out, isn't it?

I also discussed it a little with my mom. She told me that she remembers that when she received her First Communion she was pretty indifferent to it. She didn't like going to Mass and she didn't really care all that much about Communion. She said it was the age and that the older she got, the more she understood and the happier she was to go. I think she's right. Most kids, especially those who are more prone to having a short attention span *cough* Angelina *cough* probably don't really care all that much about paying attention and really focusing on the importance of Communion and what it means to actually be receiving Christ's body and blood during Mass. This age is sort of a turning point for them; they are just on the cusp of delving into their Catholic Faith and really being able to grasp some of the most intimate and sacred details of such a faith. It's often difficult territory for them because they are also still only children and have a lot of tendencies which inhibit such a process.

I remember bursting into tears while I reamed out my children one day after Mass for their being so disrespectful during the service, particularly their (loudly) begging to go home. I sobbed through my tears, "Mass is a gift. Don't you understand that? Christ is not just present there because we all go there to worship. He's there in the Eucharist, in a very profound and significant way much more important than Him being here in this car or in our home... and it is a gift and blessing to be able to receive Him in that way; to receive the grace He bestows on us through our reception of Communion. You should want to go to Mass, not beg to go home because you're bored." My kids sat wide-eyed and staring as they took in my words and probably secretly wondered if their mommy had lost her marbles. But the truth is, they didn't get it. And I realize now that regardless of the first few sacraments they receive, they probably won't truly get it for a long time.

In general, we expect a certain level of reverence and quiet attitudes from our children while we are at Mass. If for no other reason than that it is respectful of other people's right to have such an atmosphere. But fidgety children make it often difficult to maintain this specific air, and those of them who are at the age of receiving one of their first sacraments are really no exception. Up until a few months ago we had been attending Mass as a family, sitting in the cry room. Our former head-priest, Father Waldron, used to affectionately refer to this room as Purgatory. For anyone who has ever had to subject themselves to such a room knows exactly why. It took great courage for us to remove ourselves from that room and decide to chance it in the main church in the pews with all the older folks who had teenagers or no young kids at all. The older people sort of scared us because we've heard stories of others who have been belittled by Granny sitting behind them clucking her tongue or making comments because she has forgotten what it was like to take young ones to Mass.

We have since learned, though, that for the most part people are accommodating. Or at least tolerant. Our kids aren't really very noisy except for the occasional bout of crankiness from the 2 and 4 year olds (like today). But they are "busy," and move around quite a bit. And they don't pay attention very well, which really is to be expected for their ages. This morning, Sunday school was canceled so we all went to Mass together at 11 o'clock. My 2 year old was pretty cranky over an issue with one of her siblings and she threw a rubber bracelet at the face of the 40-something lady sitting in the pew behind us. This lady was very gracious and retrieved the bracelet off the floor for my husband who apologized profusely as I quietly scolded our daughter. Should she know better? Probably. But 2 year olds have a little bit of a lack of self-control still and I was hard-pressed to remember this as my cheeks flushed red and I thought to myself "this is why I wanted to just go by myself."

Regardless of this morning's antics, and because of my determination to do what is right for Angelina, our plans for the Sunday School year are for me to go to Mass with her at 7:30 and have hubby take the kids to Sunday School and then attend the 9:00 Mass by himself. The times when Sunday School is canceled or not in session (summer), we'll go as a family and try to maintain a quiet reverent atmosphere, without stressing too terribly if we can't. The most important thing is to make sure our daughter is getting as much first-hand experience as she can to really be able to understand the things she is learning in her class- the things I so naively expected her and her younger siblings to just get as I tried to explain it through my tears all those weeks ago. As the others get older, they will go to Mass during the school year too, and we will start going as a family all the time again... eventually. I would love to be able to take them to Mass during the week as well.

I will say that today something was slightly different with Angelina as we attended Mass. She was actually paying attention. For the most part. She wanted to see what the priest was doing when he was preparing the gifts and she asked me what her hands are to be doing when we make the triple sign of the cross before the Gospel reading. She wanted to learn. She was trying to participate. It made me feel very hopeful, and I suspect that our early morning attendance at Mass together will be a wonderful learning experience....for both of us.

Courage Under Fire

2011-09-23T10:59:00.009-04:00

(I love Willow Tree and this angel is perfect for this post!)

So I've been a little busy lately. We started homeschooling this past week, though today we are taking a little bit of a break. It's not so much because we need to be away from schooling, but because I need to take a "mental health" break. Not only have we started school but I have started something on my own. I am in the process of training at a crisis pregnancy center to become a volunteer counselor. I am very excited. But I know that it is going to be a battle with Satan, as I have already experienced in the four weeks since I made the decision to sign up.

It's going to take buckets of courage to travel this road. I have always been pro-life. Even when I found myself in a very difficult situation: pregnant and unmarried at a relatively young age (mentally I was younger), I still knew with absolute certainty that all life is to be protected. Of course I thought about how much my life would change and how much I'd have to give up to even bring her into the world, let alone parent her. Some even believe it "ruins" your life to have a baby when you're not ready. But as Mother Teresa so eloquently said, "It is a poverty to decide that a child must die so that you may live as you please." I didn't want to live as I pleased if it meant my baby could not live at all. I rescinded my life to choose life for her.

And now, I hope to help others choose life for their babies as they find themselves in similar - or even more difficult - situations as I was in almost 8 years ago. I am acutely aware of the fact that I will not always succeed in this aspect of the mission. But God has called me to a higher purpose than just trying to help them to believe in the sanctity of human life. He has called me to show these broken women His perfect love, regardless of their choice. It is going to be difficult. Even the training has had its moments of difficulty. Last night we learned about abortion, which I already knew a lot about anyway but it never gets easier to hear about. We also had to watch a movie that was graphic and sickening and informative and raw. I had a hard time and I was afraid. But it was necessary, despite how painful and scary it was to endure.

The unsurprising thing about this whole process is that Satan has been right on my heels the whole time. From the moment I discerned that volunteering at the center was what God was calling me to do, I felt Satan slink in ever closer. He planted so much in my head that first day of training. I was irrationally fearful of the drive to the center. It was one I had never taken before but was in reality very easy. I even talked to Joe about maybe driving me even though it was a ridiculous request because of the kids and the time-frame. And then I thought about not going at all. Then, my wonderful husband said, "didn't you drive to Florida all by yourself when you were younger?" Ah, yes I did, honey. Yes I did. I did it when I was even more shy, scared of the world, and had a huge lack of self confidence. So that was the boost I needed. Strike one for Satan.

And from there, a slew of other lies and misunderstandings of situations which have caused me to question what I'm doing have descended upon me like a thick heavy cloud. Last night I left that very difficult training session completely drained. There were other factors in that state of emotional stress that in a round-about way linked to this battle I'm fighting, and I felt suffocated as I mentally dissected each particle contributing to my angst. I prayed a million Hail Mary's as I drove home, and rested in the knowledge that I was going to be guarded with all the forces of God if I would only remember to ask Him.

But that Satan is a sly one.

I went to sleep very very late last night; the last thoughts in my heart being a prayer to God to help me to not have nightmares of what I saw on the movie we watched. And He was faithful. But as soon as I awoke, images from the movie floated into my head, stabbing my mind into a state of paralysis. It didn't help that it's gray and raining outside or that I was still dealing with other factors that make me question my abilities to spread God's truth. I spent the first few hours of the morning not getting up and launching into my routine with prayer, exercise, breakfast, homeschool, but snuggled with my hubby, hunkered down in our bed with the children who filed in one by one, watching cartoons and praying for peace.

I realize that I have joined this war in a more definitive role than I have ever played before. And that comes at a price. Satan has me on his radar, even more honed in than he's been my whole life. And he will use whatever means, and whoever he can (even if they're unaware of the fact that he's using them), to plant even the tiniest seed of doubt and fear in my heart. I will be ridiculed, I will be called wrong, an idiot, opinionated, biased, close-minded, and worse... There will be attempts at knocking me on my butt like I have been today. In this world we live in, where anything goes, every one's thoughts are considered mere opinion and there is little regard to God's truth, I will be fighting the fight to protect human life. At times I will lose. At times I will feel alone and depressed much like today. But I am the daughter of a sovereign God, a God Who is unmoved by the lowly attempts and puppets of Satan, and He is protecting me as I serve Him in my role.

Today's reflection on the daily Mass readings from myCatholic.com was exactly what I needed to feel secure in the above knowledge once again. As I seek to spread God's truth in the world - a task He asks of all Christians - He will protect me, guide me, lift me up, and reward me. He is the source from which I draw my courage and strength and therefore, I too will be unmoved.

Yes, God Even Cares About Our Trash!

2011-09-02T16:31:00.007-04:00

Okay, so as much as I would LOVE to make this post about recycling, caring for the earth, being less wasteful, etc...which are all things on my mind A LOT, it is about something almost completely unrelated to those subjects.

I was just thinking today about the small things that God sometimes uses to say "see, I'm here, I care about even this." I was reminded about a little blessing that came this past week in the form of...well, a trash can storage bin...or whatever they are called. Yes, I'm talking about trash - and those large wooden or plastic bins with doors that people hide their trash cans in. Are they kind of unsightly? Maybe a little. We got ours from someone who thought it didn't go with their new landscape. But we were excited to receive it, as it really was a small blessing.

Here's the story:

In our neighborhood, which I guess is considered somewhere between rural and suburban, we have a lot of random animals roaming around, which often get into our trash. LOTS of homeless cats, a few foxes and deer from neighboring fields, and the occasional squirrel feeling extra saucy. We have woken up on many a morning to find a cornucopia of rotting veggies and meat, and other items - food and nonfood alike - trailing across our back patio area where we keep the trash until trash day. Of course, the culprit is almost always long gone, carrying with them whatever prize they dug out of our very accessible trash cans, probably laughing (do animals have a sense of humor?) at the mess they left in their wake.

So for the past few years (yes years!), we've put it on the "to do" list to find a remedy for this situation as we were both tired of cleaning up the garbage strewn about our yard. Okay, hubby was tired; I vehemently refused to do it!

We even went to Home Depot to price those plastic trash corrals - or whatever they're called - and were appalled at the amount H.D. was charging for a plastic bin that probably cost someone in China about $5 to make. HUNDREDS of dollars these things were. Really. Appalled. We left H.D. wondering how in the heck anyone could even spend that much on something like that. I mean really. It's trash. We have a big family. There's no way we can shell out a couple hundred bucks to buy one of those things.

Lowes was much the same, by the way.

So lately, the stench has been more of a problem than pesky critters searching for a midnight snack, and I have been curious as to what to do with this little issue of ours. Not only that, but the area where we keep the trash is really the most convenient and practical place to have it, yet it also is in the area of our backyard where we keep the grill. Who wants to smell smoldering trash on a hot summer day while trying to enjoy some toasty hot dogs at a bar-b-q? Not me. And probably not our guests. We'd move the grill except that it too is in the most convenient and practical area of the backyard, as it's tucked neatly into a spot we created out of the existing counter area that the previous owners had built. I think about it, and it used to be a very stressful thing....but it hasn't been like at the forefront of my mind too much lately. I mean, who thinks about their trash that much?

Enter Joe. And our business....both of which have been changing and growing so much lately. (That's not really pertinent to my trash tale but I thought I'd throw that in there...love you honey!) He had a really big install with a residential client this week and the client really liked what he did with his pool area. He liked it so much, that this trash hideaway thingy - or whatever it's called - seemed so much like an eyesore against the backdrop of his newly - and beautifully, I might add - landscaped yard, that he asked Joe if he wanted to take it. What? A trash thingy in really good condition; one that would normally cost several hundred dollars, for FREE?? Of course! Yes, we'd LOVE to take it!

So as I'm watching Joe and his brother haul this thing into the backyard from the truck, I'm just smiling to myself...although at first, I was a little unnerved by the disgusting condition it was in...no wonder the guy thought it didn't "go" with his yard... But then I said to myself, "it's for TRASH Rebecca, who cares that it's dirty?!" So I was smiling. But it didn't hit me til a few hours later that we just got a blessing delivered to us.

God says that He cares even about the hairs on our head. I never really thought that same care would extend to our trash but apparently it does. And maybe it's not so much about trash than it is about the trash bin thingy being a vehicle to deliver His love to us; a small reminder that He is still here and He does care about us. It's that simple.

The Next Item On The List Is......Nothing!

2011-09-01T10:23:00.010-04:00

List making. I LOVE it! I love writing down all the things I need to do, buy, fix, remember. What I love even more is being able to go back and check them off one by one. The organization which list-making provides is critical to my sanity, especially when it comes to my "to do" list. I can never remember everything and writing it down serves as a tangible in-my-face reminder of the many things I need to get done as a mommy of four littles, a wife, a homemaker, a business owner and a woman of God.

Since having children, mental lists just don't seem to hold their substance anymore. Usually, they dissipate the second I get distracted and then trying to recall each item is like trying to wrangle a child's favorite blankey away from them on wash day. There is one list, however, that seems to constantly be at the forefront of my mind, almost mocking me as I realize none of the items on it are able to be checked off.

This mental list is a list of things I'm waiting for. This list is often detrimental to my sanity because it is made up of things I cannot control. I have no say in when I will be able to draw a thick black line through any one item. I have to keep waiting and praying and hoping that each thing will be resolved in the perfect timing of God. It's a difficult thing to do sometimes, because I like to have some say in these particular items. One of the main items on my list is the future of our business. We want so many things to happen. But I've been re-learning lately that it's not about what I want or think I need or what my timing is, but what God's will for my life is and when it will come about according to His divine plan.

Getting to that moment in my faith walk where I really had to let go of things was a long and arduous journey. I'm sure there were many times in my life where He's tried to get me to give up that control, only to find that I was just like that determined child trying to keep my blankey near me even though it was time to let it go to get cleaned up, repaired, or even put away for good. I didn't trust Him enough to know that my "blankey" (my life) was in safe hands and that His plans for it were more important than what I wanted or thought I needed. I had to trust that He had my best interest in mind but at those times, I just couldn't, not always. The first real time I had to do it was when I found myself pregnant for the first time. Since then, I sort of back-tracked into a hole, afraid of what lay ahead, not always trusting in His perfect will.

Fast-forward to 2009 and hubby has just lost his job for the second time in 1 year, due to the recession. I was pregnant with our fourth child and there were no job prospects in sight. Talk about having no choice but to give up all control to Him and only be able to trust that He has our best interest in mind- the perfect plan He's been waiting to bring to fruition! We were at a cross-roads. I knew it. Joe knew it. We had to take a leap of faith and trust. So we did, and our company New Growth Landscaping was born. That year was difficult. But not as difficult as we anticipated. We meandered through each day, holding our breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the moment when everything would fail. We didn't have much control in the situation at all and yet, we still couldn't quite believe that God was carrying us. But He was. And we didn't fail. In fact, we went through that first year, bills being paid somehow, food being put on the table every day, our family building in spirit and momentum as we took our new life and ran with it. The numbers don't add up but we survived anyway, solely on the grace of God.

Our bottom line that first year was only in the negative by a few hundred dollars. The second year, we showed a profit in the 20 thousand's. This third year has yet to show how well we've done but to us, the numbers don't really matter. Our first year proved that very fact when we realized we survived without the numbers making any sense. What matters is what God wants. Our future is in His hands. My mental list is in His hands. I can stare at it all I want, wishing I could see those lines through each item, but they will not appear until He wants them to. It's something I'm working on really being at peace with. Most of the time, I resign myself to be at peace and those things on that list don't seem so glaring. But other times, I find it difficult to remain peaceful as I see a few of them beaming through another layer of dust.

One of my favorite verses is Jeremiah 29:11. "For I know well the plans I have in mind for you says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe! plans to give you a future full of hope." (St. Joseph Edition of the NAB) I recently came across this verse in a most unexpected place. But it came in such perfect timing, as I was overwhelmed with anxiety over one particular item on my list that concerns the future of both our business and family lives. At that moment, a warm peace washed over me and though I often feel slightly anxious when I realize I don't know what our future holds, that peace is still there, plus a joy I never could have imagined. All because I know that God knows well each item on that list, and I can rest knowing that I really DO NOT have to keep the list in my mind; that He will take good care of it, remembering all items in perfect succession and using His divine pen to cross them out according to His plans. He has them in His mind and that's good enough. I don't have to do a thing.

A Moment of Your Time To Save A Whole Lifetime of A Child

2011-08-18T13:36:00.014-04:00

What if this picture was of your child?

Today marks the 1 year anniversary of the passing of Declan Carmical. If you don't know how the story of Declan touched my life, read last year's post here.

As I think about all that has happened in this past year, I realize that while life for us has moved on in a major way, life for Declan's family has not moved so much. They are still mourning. They are still suffering. They are still fighting his fight. One week shy of his first birthday Declan died of AT/RT cancer, one of the many types of pediatric cancers which still have no real understanding, as funds for research are minimal- the majority from the National Cancer Institute are reserved mostly for drugs and information on other cancers. While every type of cancer deserves attention and a voice, I fail to understand how pediatric cancer has more or less fallen to the wayside, neglected; lost in the darkness and tears in the hearts of each family who loses a child to it; stunted by the breast cancer awareness movement and others. Our future depends on our children. So why then do we fail to protect them from one of their most prominent enemies?

As I read many posts online today about Declan and his family, I remember how deeply I was struck with his story around this time last year. It affected me in such a way that for days after his passing, I was numb. I can't even imagine how his own mother felt; it's a grief of which I can only scratch the surface to understand. I know in my heart that all things work for good and that our lives have a purpose that far surpasses our understanding of it. I know this. And yet, as I am numbed again by the memory of Declan's suffering and death, the comfort from this fact is shadowed by pain, a pain I imagine is slighted greatly by that of Declan's family. There is no point to trying to understand why pediatric cancer exists; that question is reserved with the many others that are unable to be answered until we get to heaven. But it's possible to know - and we all deserve to know - why pediatric cancer research is not funded more, why there are so few advances in treatment, why our children aren't given more of a chance.

While life for us has moved on since this time last year, Declan's story and the fact that he is just one child of many who were failed by the NCI, has never left my mind. Three percent of NCI's funds goes toward pediatric cancer research. THREE percent. And that's for ALL types of pediatric cancer combined! The statistics for children developing pediatric cancer are astounding. It could be my child at any time. Or yours. It could be our children's children. Something has to be done. We need to wake up to these facts! We need to do more.

One small step you can take in helping this cause is to vote for Journey 4 A Cure in the Vivint Gives Back Project . Every day you can vote to help J4AC win money to fund actual research for pediatric cancer. It only takes 30 seconds or less, but it may just give another child 30 more years (or more!) on earth. Please vote! Our children deserve it.

Pie Chart for My Anxiety!

2011-08-12T11:34:00.007-04:00

These moments are both painstaking and vicious.

My brain approaches cautiously but then ceases to understand or comprehend that there are actually moments beyond this one, so I am locked in a tunnel, swirling around in the vacuum of thoughts and feelings I have created within myself.

These moments are full of silent screams that echo through me and come out in a myriad of ways: short temper with my kids, lack of energy to do chores, angry tears. These moments define my life lately and I'm at a loss to even begin to understand how I can creep away from them with my sanity and my soul intact.

The children are only a small percentage of the equation. The hardships a mother endures as she is raising her children are justifiable and really, they are the norm. She faces the unmistakable conviction of wanting to do the absolute best she can to raise them to be servants of the Lord and takes it hard when she feels she is failing. Nothing is easy. Never in a million years did I think raising children would be. I remember what I was like as a child. I remember my 6 brothers and sisters, too. But I don't think I ever thought that it would be this hard. My mother is a freakin' saint.

If I could do a pie chart to represent all the things that make up my anxiety, that little sliver you see on similar charts representing the nominal cut would probably be that of my children. Really. Because while yes, they do create a sort of chaos to my life and it is definitely difficult to raise four children under the age of seven, there is just so much more that my anxiety is made up of. Often, my kids are my solace. Like this afternoon when I was trying to find Sophia (who just turned two) to put a diaper on her before nap. I wandered through the house looking for her because she disappeared off my bed in the time it took me to get a diaper from the next room... I found her hiding in my closet. I opened the door and with a delighted grin and a mischievious giggle, she declared, "I wos juiced hidin', Mawmy!" Times like these are what keep that percentage low.

The general subject of "children" really is only about 10% of my pie chart. So what makes up the rest you ask?

It's me.

Yup, that's right. My big fat rump sits covering the rest of the pie chart. I just can't seem to get out of the way. Part of it goes into the piece where I allow the reality of my small house to paralyze me when the four children - who are just being children - are running through it, and are under my feet, and are screaming and fighting over toys. I'd say that makes up about 40% of my anxiety. It's not them, it's my way of dealing with it. That gives me anxiety; the fact that I can't deal with it lately.

The next piece is also a rather sizable piece. It's the business piece. Our landscaping business is doing great. I know we're on the path God wants us to be on. But there's so much about running a business and there's so much that is put on my shoulders on top of everything else from our personal life. And this year, coming to the end of our third season, we are desperate to move on and start next season in a different place. Not just physically - like where we're located - but in general. Our plans for the next phase of our business include so much. Like having help. Like planting a tree and perennial farm. Like Joe being more involved with his customers and not having to do the maintenance end of things. This part is probably 35% at least. Because again, I don't know how to deal with it properly.

The next piece makes up the final 15% of the chart. It's my marriage and all the baggage that came with my husband. Of course, I have baggage too but we're not talking about me now are we? Oh wait.. Uhhh... Maybe we are? It's not really my marriage and my husband; it's me. It's how I handle things. The crazy cycle that my thoughts go through. My inability to trust. To cope. To heal. To love. I'm whacked sometimes. I have baggage. Really.

Soooo....Is my anxiety a direct result of my self-induction of it? Does that even make sense? I stress about not doing things perfectly and not having things the perfect way. And I squeeze myself into this tunnel and I create the vacuum and I lose myself in my thoughts. Is it easy here? No. Is it easier than out there?? No, not really. So why do I do it? I have no freakin' clue!

I pray about this all the time. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just let it go and give it to God and have peace about it? Is He trying to offer me peace? Maybe not yet. Maybe I need to just sit here in this uncomfortable place until I'm ready to take it. Maybe I just need to allow the viciousness of the moments pass so I can draw in the gentle nature my Heavenly Father has with healing me.

Win a FREE Book!

2011-08-11T11:15:00.005-04:00

My friend Judy from BenMakesTen and Homeschool Faith And Family Life has a give-away on her site for Suzie Andre's book, "A Little Way of Homeschooling." This book is an account of 13 different families who felt called to homeschool which eventually led them down the path to "unschooling."

The contest ends at noon on August 21, 2011, and Judy's tenth and youngest child, Ben, will draw THREE lucky winners' names from a jar!

Enter here for a chance to win!

Family Vacation

2011-08-04T13:13:00.011-04:00

We just got back this week from a 6-day vacation in East Tawas, Michigan. I don't know about you but when a big family goes on vacation, especially if there are several little ones who are pretty dependent still, it's more stressful than it's worth. Most of the time. This time, it was different.

Thanks to my wonderful friend Colleen, we got to enjoy some really serious vacation time. Serious, meaning it was a REAL vacation where we actually got to relax.... not just a "get away from normal life" vacation. There weren't really too many stresses that got packed in our luggage to follow us to Michigan, as is usual when we take a trip to the beach. Of course, with 4 little children in a strange place, there is definitely some stress. But it was stress that could be soothed with sunshine, pool time, splashing in the lake, s'mores. It was doable stress, the kind that seems to melt away the second you look out over the calm waters of Lake Huron and watch the setting sun.

So, what did we do on our vacation?

We drove 11 hours to arrive in East Tawas around dinner-time. The ride was uneventful. The kids had DVD's to watch, art bins full of snacks, crayons, notebooks, a canteen, and stickers, and of course their all-important "Ishies" and pillow pets to snuggle with when they grew tired. The last two hours proved to be a little bit anxious for their tiny bodies to deal with but we made it without incident and with everyone in good spirits. Juliet (the dog) didn't even throw up once!

Coming into East Tawas, we could see the clear waters of Lake Huron stretching out to the right of us. Gorgeous! Lots of Evergreen trees dotted the backdrop and a slightly-cool northern breeze floated through the open car windows.

We checked into our cabin (which I have to say, I was unimpressed with and it was really too small for our 6-person family with a dog..definitely something we have to do differently next year.) Colleen came with her daughters to welcome us and bring us a basket of Michigan goodies - fudge, blueberry jam, banana nut muffins, a mug with packets of organic green tea tucked inside. Very thoughtful. But I hungered more for the sight of her and her girls, as we haven't seen them in half a year. The only one missing was her son who was visiting his grandpa. That evening, we met her mom and step-dad at the Dancing in the Streets event the town has every Tuesday, where the kids can dance to a live band, blow bubbles and draw on the street with chalk.

After that, the week began. On Wednesday, we swam in the pool at our cabin and then drove to Colleen's mom and step-dad's 30 acre property. There, we cooked out, fished, rode the four-wheeler, ate s'mores and visited with some of the most down-to-earth and loving people I've ever met. The kids put on skits, chased the chickens and stuffed their faces til dark.

The rest of the week was spent much in the same relaxing way. We visited a Lumberman's monument, where we walked 280 steps down to the water (and back up again, me carrying a 3 year old most of the way up!). We went to the lake a few times to splash and cook out. We headed back to Colleen's family's place to hang out again, where we drank homemade wine, canned pickles, ate, fished, shot at targets with Joe's gun, and chased the chickens some more. Colleen and I got to have lunch together on our own, walk around to the many little quaint shops, and catch up. We walked the dock and looked at the yachts and sailboats as the kids bonded, Aidan pledged his love to Emily with a smiley bouncy ball and a shy attempt at a marriage proposal, and Stephen and Joe bonded over fart apps on their phones. (Boys are so icky!)

We attended Mass on Sunday morning at Holy Family with Colleen and her kids and her mom and step-dad. It was a very beautiful church. We ended our last evening there with dinner and drinks with the 3 of us adults while Megan and Steven took care of the kids at Colleen's house. Somewhere in the midst of that night, a poopy diaper was changed by 3 kids wearing rubber dish gloves!

We had a lovely time and already miss our friends! Can't wait to go back next year! God has blessed us with amazing opportunities to enjoy His creation and share special times with special friends.

Discontent

2011-07-21T19:48:00.005-04:00

What's at the heart of discontentment? Is it ungratefulness? Is it selfishness? Is it conceit or pride?

To be honest, I really have no clue. Right now I'm just a tired mama in the middle of the very slender neck of a bottle, squeezing my way through ever so slowly, being squished and disfigured as I try breathlessly to make it out of this particular spot.

I need air. I need to breathe. And yet, I can't.

I can't stand where I am right now but I'm not exactly sure why. Is it because I feel like I am suffocating? Or maybe it's because I can't move or do anything I want to do; the discomfort I feel gives birth to negative feelings for my surroundings and the season of life I am currently in. Whatever it is, it's making me tired and I feel the depression and anxiety creeping in again.

I'm just going to lay it all out right here because I don't really talk to anyone about it and it's begging to be let out. So here it is..

There is this old farmhouse about ten minutes from here. It sits on 12 1/2 gorgeous acres. It has a pool. It has an orchard and a pond. It has 4 bedrooms and lots more space. It has huge potential for not only our family life but our business as well. And it sits not only ten minutes from here but just out of my reach as it is over half a million dollars. OK, so that's waaay out of my reach. But, if this house were sitting quietly in the picturesque country hills outside of my hometown, it would be well over a million dollars. Little comfort, ya know?

So there is that house and here I am, in my cute little home that is 3 bedrooms and little room for a family of - currently - 6 people. It sits on 3/4 of an acre on a semi-busy road just off Route 15. Everywhere I go in my house, I can hear all the noise from the rumbling and stomping, screeching and squealing of my 4 boisterous children. Every. Where. I. Go. My bedroom is three steps in either direction from the kids' rooms and has a three inch gap at the bottom of the door. Three inches of space at the bottom of our bedroom door. Three steps away from little ears. You see where I'm going with this?

Don't get me wrong, I love my home... at least I did. Right now I have a small affection for it like a starving person might have an affection for moldy bread from a dumpster. I need this house. I am grateful we have it. I know there are many much larger families who have lived in less. I know this. I try to remind myself of it, even through the loud laughter and fighting that goes on in the middle of the day which incidentally almost always wakes up my two year old an hour and half before she should be woken up from nap. This house was an amazing blessing for us when we moved. We had two children and it seemed like a lot of space. But now we have four and a business and a dog. And I am tired.

I know God has a plan for us. Sometimes I have nightmares that it's going to include this house and rocking chairs and gray hair growing out of my head. Sometimes. But I'm pretty sure most of our desires for our family and business life are part of His plan, so I know that those nightmares won't come true. I guess it's just the waiting. I am working on the being content thing. I'm working feverishly, believe me. I just go in these spurts and I feel like it's probably just the devil messing with me. I mean, isn't that what he's really good at...one of the things, anyway? He magnifies our desires so they take over our life and shut out everything else that is important. My desires of a bigger home and the growth of our business and possibly our family are probably just as bad as any desire he likes to toy with people's minds over. Right? At least they are when they take over my days the way they have been, rendering me useless and completely unable to do anything but the bare minimum.

This past week has been really bad and I have been feeling like a trip to confession on Saturday is probably a good idea. Pray for me, that I can allow God's grace to dissolve my feelings of discontent, be even more thankful for His gifts and blessings, place my trust in Him, and wait patiently on the Lord for His plans to come to fruition.

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." ~1 Thessalonians 5:18

In Light Of......

2011-07-07T15:35:00.003-04:00

.......the current events... i.e. Casey Anthony and the murder of her daughter Caylee....I just had to say something.

There's a lot going around cyber world and in the "public square" about how Casey Anthony is guilty and she must pay. We have to have justice for Caylee, right?

Wrong.

We don't have to have anything.

Believe me, as a mother of 4 small children, I'm just as angry that a little girl's life was snuffed out probably by her mentally ill mother. I'm angry that if Casey is guilty, the jurors couldn't figure that out; that they didn't feel they had enough evidence. I even start down that road of cynicism toward God and want to ask Him why? But it doesn't matter why and I will never get the answer I think I want anyway. I'll get the truth, something I already know. Because He is God and the small smudge we live in is just a tiny part of a much bigger picture which He is painting of His world.

I'm more upset over the fact that the anger of a lot of people is being spewed outward into society over this case and is causing the anxious stirring that it has. It's like a virus, passing along from one person to the next, breeding even more anger and hatred for this woman and for the judicial system, which we all already know has its flaws. Some of us know this better than others, sadly.

But you see, it's not up to me - or you - to take our feelings and go out with guns blazing and shouting like mad people into the world, across Facebook and blogs and- if you're lucky enough to get your 15 minutes of fame- on T.V.

Why not?

Because this world means absolutely nothing compared to our eternal home. We are here for a far greater purpose than to sit and stir our pots of anger, hatred, misfortune, jealousy, etc. We are here to serve. In my experience, the best possible way to serve is to pray for other people. People like Casey Anthony. I know it's hard not to act on our angry impulses in the way we naturally feel led to. I have failed miserably at keeping mine in check at times in my life. But the more I seek to serve others, which ultimately means serving God, the easier it is for me to work on that aspect of my human nature, to allow the Holy Spirit to consume me and calm the emotional charge I feel inside whenever I hear anything that makes my heart ache. And then I can turn it into a positive action.

What does talking about it in this hateful manner do anyway? Does it bring Caylee back? Does it give Casey a different sentence? The answer to both of those questions is NO! All it does is breed contempt, hatred, violence - all the things that drive someone to do something so despicable anyway. The ones who act this way only serve their own purpose - self satisfaction - and the end result is a furthering of the downward spiral we are in as a society.

We have to move on from this. We have to let go of our feelings and just give them to God. We have to have faith that God sees the entire picture He has painted and that it fulfills a greater purpose. Life is not ours; it belongs to Him. I am convicted of this every time I look into the innocent blue eyes of my oldest child, a life which was created to fulfill His plans at a time when I could only see mine. It was for His purposes. Not mine. Not my husband's. His. Same with my other three- little lives entrusted to us by their Creator; lives which ultimately don't belong to us at all. He could take them all tomorrow and there's nothing I can do about it. And I just have to trust in Him that it was part of His bigger plan which is made out of love.

How hard is it to look at what we deem a monster and say I love you? Very hard, no doubt. Very hard but possible. God calls us to love. He calls us to hate sin but He does not call us to hate the sinner. Very hard as well. Love Casey Anthony. Pray for her soul. She will get whatever sentence the Ultimate Judge sees fit to give her, and little Caylee might not have justice in this world but it doesn't really matter now that she lives in eternal happiness in the next. She's not looking down on her mother wondering why. She knows why because she's happily bouncing on her Father's knee as He shares all of the secrets of the world with her, including why she died. She is probably in heaven praying for her mother's soul, just like we should be here on earth.

I pray for everyone, including myself, who have felt bitter anger over this situation, and any other situation in their lives. I pray that the peace of the Holy Spirit will settle in our hearts and help us to turn our negative feelings into positive action, to change our own lives and that of at least one other person.

On Writing

2011-06-23T10:22:00.010-04:00

The past few days have been very odd for me. I have had trouble sleeping for like three weeks now and my brain has been very fuzzy, but all of the sudden- even though I had horrible trouble getting out of bed- on Tuesday morning I grabbed my laptop and started a story. A fiction story. I wrote all day. Somehow, I'm not exactly sure, the kids were pretty compliant with my neglecting them. I mean, I didn't neglect them completely. I fed them, made sure they were clean and dressed and all of that. I took a few breaks to interact with them minimally- "Yes, you can watch a movie." "No, you can't go outside right now; it's too hot." But that was it. No chasing after them through the house, no reading any stories. At least the first day. I wrote 5,000 words by the end of day one. As I read them to my husband in bed that night, he asked, "and then what happens?"

Ahhh, the perfect words that every writer wants to hear. "What happens next?" I was elated. He seemed excited to hear what would take place in the coming pages and not only that, but he didn't seem bored while listening. And, no offense to him, but he's not exactly the type who would know that's what I want/need to hear so I took that as a good sign.

The next morning- yesterday- I woke up again with the need to write. So I continued writing. Another day sort of neglecting my mommy duties. But I did manage to get some laundry done at some point and straighten up the house, not to mention move furniture around in the living room. I think I called it quits for a little while around 4 to do so. I did read some stories to the kids somewhere in there but really, the whole day is much of a blur as I immersed myself in the fiction story I am writing. Fiction. Me. Writing fiction.

I'm sorry, I just have to laugh at myself for a second. It's really not like me to write fiction. The last time I wrote fiction was when I was like 8. I used to write cute/stupid stories about horses and all kinds of fun things. But somehow I got away from that...I think in my teen years, when I became that melancholy person who filled journal after journal with my sad poetry and suicidal thoughts, something clicked over to reality and I was unable to write anything that might inspire a smile or laugh from anyone, including myself.

So here I am, writing fiction. I have no idea if it's good. I'm pretty hard on myself so I'll just take the plunge here and say it's probably garbage. But at least hubby likes it.

Today I haven't written yet. I powered down my laptop last night around 11 with 18,347 words staring at me from the screen. I can't believe it really, but again it could all just be garbage. The thing is, I feel so differently than I have in a very long time. Like it was all just sitting there waiting to come out. And whether it's good or bad, it doesn't really matter much to me because I just needed to get it out. It makes me feel like I have been neglecting a certain aspect of my personality for too long- my creative side. I write on this blog sometimes and I had been working on a nonfiction piece for awhile but those aren't the same as this.

The only similarity is that I do just kind of spill it out, my hands flying over the keyboard without my thinking too terribly much. The little child inside every writer- which Anne Lamott writes about in Bird by Bird- is hard at work in there. She's handing me things I don't even have time to look at before they're already on the page. Pretty soon I'm staring at 18,000 words of hopefulness. Hopefulness because I have no idea what these words mean for me. They could sit in my laptop for a hundred years and never grace the shelves of the literary world in the form of a published book. I could peck at them for the next 10 years, twisting them and erasing much and shaping what's left into what I think sounds best, the way I did with my nonfiction work. But whatever happens, it matters not because I'm writing. And writing does something to me I've never been able to really understand. It's who I am and I guess in a way I finally feel secure in it.

BUT WHY????

2011-06-16T12:30:00.006-04:00

I have HAD IT! I can't stand my six year old arguing with me about EVERYTHING! I don't understand why she can't just accept a 'NO' and say 'OK' and leave it at that or even just walk away. I just DON'T GET IT and I'm about 2 inches from going off the ledge into crazy land. I can't stand it anymore!! Who does she think she is?? WHY does she feel the need to question everything I say to her? Is it the age? Well, no, because she's done this her entire short little life. Is it me? Am I a push- over and have I let her get away with it for way too long??

I just got angry with her for asking me yet again 'why?' when I told her 'no!' to something. I got in her face and said "when are you going to just accept that I say no and not ask me why? WHEN???!!!" As soon as she left the room, I felt awful. No, the moment we were in that exchange I felt awful. But I don't know how to react in a normal way anymore. I used to be patient. I used to just ignore her arguments or give her an honest reason for my saying no. But as she got older and it occurred more often, I just kept getting angry. The truth is, I don't even know what to say to this. I don't know how to explain to her the wrongness and disrespect in her questioning me that way. I want to be that really patient mama who knows all the right things to say to guide her children's hearts and help them learn to be content with whatever. I want her to just accept things I say and not question me about them. But she doesn't. And I don't know what to say to that. I don't know because I am the same freaking way.

I don't like to just accept things. I want to know the 'why' about everything. And to an extent, it's a good thing. But when it comes to stuff like this, the authority of a parent or higher authority (i.e. God), there is no questioning. It's disrespectful. Especially if the parent tells the child to do something and instead of doing it, they just ask why they have to, or do the total opposite of what the parent says.

I think about my obedience to the Church and how along my way, I have questioned a lot of the reasons we do certain things. But it's been out of a trying-to-understand perspective, not from a defiant stance. I think it is very important to understand the reasoning behind things in order to be able to obey. But in all things, there is a time and place for obedience first and questioning later. For awhile I struggled with this when it came to procreation. But the entire time, I obeyed what the Church teaches and when I finally came to the understanding of WHY the Church teaches what she does about procreation, I rejoiced in the fact that I obeyed first and then sought the answer to 'why?'.

I think I'd be a little more calm about this whole thing if Angelina would just walk away or do what I say and then later come to me and ask me, if she must know, why I made a certain request or decision. If she's curious and wants to understand, that's one thing but total defiance of what I am saying is a completely different thing. I'm tired of it. It zaps way more energy from me to battle this sort of thing than to just figure out what the right thing for me to do in this situation is, and do it. It's like I know the answer, I just don't know how to articulate it to a stubborn 6 year old who thinks everything I say doesn't apply to her. I cringe at the idea of having to explain to her why God created sex for marriage in a way she will accept, especially in a world that teaches the exact opposite. This whole 'why she can't have anymore food after the large lunch I just served' scenario seems like such small potatoes compared to that. *shudder*

So, along the path of God's design for our relationship with our children, of teaching them to have hearts for Him and following His will for their life, what say you, all you wise mamas out there, about this situation? What do I tell my Angelina (and the others) about the proper way to react to a response or situation they don't like or don't understand, especially when it comes to my authority? What is a good way to articulate the reasoning behind them reacting in a positive way instead of negatively? I know there are tons of Bible verses about this. The commandment to honor they father and mother is a great starting point, I'm sure. But at this age, I have to explain what that means and WHY! Is 'because God says so!' a legitimate answer for a child this young?

A little help?! Thanks!

My mind is gone and I have nothing to post

2011-06-13T10:09:00.009-04:00

To be honest, I've got nothing.

I have started a few posts and there they sit, in my list of other posts, needing to be finished or scratched altogether but really so quiet that I forget they are there. They're not begging me. They're garbage.

Sometimes I get into my deepest dark place of nothingness and find that I feel like a big fat loser. When I was younger, there was so much I wanted to do and be. There was a lot I was doing and being that wasn't right. There was always the desire to be different, better. I knew in my heart God was calling me but up until I became pregnant with my first baby, I had no clue what He was calling me for. Some days, I'm not even so sure I do know the real reason and wonder if it's just that I wanted to run with the situation of my messy moment at that time, and so I pasted my label on it- "God's Purpose For Me."

And run with it I did.

So here in this darkness I am thinking a million things that probably aren't right, a lot of them are whisperings of the devil himself, lies I am letting him tell me, fears he's magnifying with his evilness and hate. But then there are a few small ones off in the corner which I know actually have some weight to them. They are the ones that tell me I need to get back to a routine that helps me conquer my day with patience and calm and even gusto. The ones that afford me quiet moments to myself which I can spend writing if I want to. But honestly, I look at these and think they're lies too. Because I can't find quiet in my tiny home where every. single. sound is heard no matter where you are in the house. And I am not a calm person. I've always been a little high-strung.

And even if I could have a quiet house and be a calm person, my mind is gone. In its place it left a different mind which has become my enemy and will not release much more than a bunch of garbage that has no meaning and no relevance to my life..or anyone else's for that matter. Yup, that's right, we have a hostage situation going on. My mind has helpless prisoners it will not let go; important "personnel" that I need...dare I say...to survive? And all it will send it out is fluff. A mirage. It's a hostile scenario, one I live on a daily basis and still can't figure out how to make it go any different. I send in pizza, even chocolate...sometimes wine. To no avail. My mind is making demands as if it has a right. More money. Vacation. Land. A bigger house. And until I meet all of its demands, nothing - NOTHING - is coming out. I'm a terrible negotiator and I'm gaining weight.

I ache to write. There is so much roaming around up there in my head but when I try it just doesn't come out right, as you can probably tell in recent posts. And most of the time, it doesn't come out at all. I have a lot of material - being in the presence of 4 little children every day gives me enough for a lifetime if I could just wrangle it out. I feel like it's a hopeless cause. I mean, I pray about it a lot and still nothing comes. Nothing is different. I have not changed. I'm backed into a corner and I feel like the end result of this horrible scenario is going to be some sort of casualty. My sanity? (What's left of it.) I stare blankly into the darkness, wondering what my future is and how I'm even supposed to get there when I feel paralyzed a lot.

So I cling to this passage in Jeremiah: (29:11): "For I know the plans I have in mind for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare, not for woe! Plans to give you a future full of hope." And this one in Proverbs: (19:21) "Many are the plans in a man's heart but it's the Lord's purpose that prevails."

Because I really have nothing else.

Sunshine After The Rain

2011-05-25T09:54:00.021-04:00

It's amazing what the sunshine can do to a melancholy heart!

I always seem to have more of a tendency toward sadness but the winter blues definitely hit me hard every single year. It's bad enough for the few months of gray chill which sinks into my bones and doesn't let go, making the winter seem like an eternity. But then there's the rain we've had over the last month or so- the dreary start to Spring- which has really taken its toll, and I have just been unusually down. Of course, life's difficult circumstances that flood in and out at times are just icing on that emotional cake. Sometimes, I wonder how Noah felt on his ark with his family and all those animals. How difficult it must have been! How his hope must have dwindled some as time went on. And I think about how my hope has dwindled at times, especially lately. But, as yesterday was the first day in quite awhile with no rain, the sun poked through the haze of the overcast sky and I felt it warming my heart and stirring hope within me.

Today the sun is shining full blast; a slight breeze whispers through the trees and there is life everywhere. My vegetables are growing quite nicely, safely planted in the raised garden box we built around Mother's Day. The container garden I pulled together a few weeks ago is overflowing with color and texture; an uplifting sight as I was unsure it would make it through all the rain we've had. Red and purple salvia and persian shield, as well as other beautiful plants are in full bloom in their happy containers on our newly-built patio. The birds are busy flying around gathering bits of grass and twigs for their nests. Bees are buzzing about doing their bee-thing!
I've gotten into the habit of having the windows open at this time of year, despite how hot it may get and despite the pollen count. It lets the sunshine in and the clean air filter through the house. It makes my heart dance with joy to see the sun's rays, feel their warmth, feel the breezes sweeping through the house, knowing they are gifts from God. The kids have been picking flowers from our wild hill garden which I've tucked into small glass jars and bud vases. The mixture of purples and yellows and pinky whites are so pretty grouped together with mint and other greens. I picked a bunch myself a few days ago, arranging them into a decorative tin pitcher, and placed it in the middle of our dining room table.
The joy of Spring has really been a blessing, despite all the rain we've had. It's not just the tangible gifts it brings like flowers and sunshine, but the timing of these things, especially this year. Over the past few months, God has really been working in my heart to cultivate contentment. I have prayed for it practically every day; to learn to grow where I'm planted and be content where I am, knowing He has a purpose for each moment and season of my life. As Joe and I have been anxious over the last year to move on to the next stage of our home and business life, I've been really convicted of the fact that we are rushing things, not living in the moment, not seeing the blessings and gifts our heavenly Father is giving us where we are right now.

We have felt like we are quickly outgrowing our small house and yard but have been realizing lately that it's not really as bad as we feel. When the kids are happily tumbling around in the yard, swinging on the swing set, creating pretend meals of grass and dirt and weeds and picking flowers to bring in to their mama, it touches my heart in a humbling way and makes me feel content. When I hear them playing nicely in their rooms and helping each other do simple tasks, I'm delighted at the fact that in these moments, they don't feel annoyed by the limited space and are actually content to be with- and often serving- their siblings. When family and friends make comments about how beautiful the backyard is or how nice the house looks or even how spacious it seems, I get a new perspective on a once-depressing subject. The doors in my mind creak open a crack and then a little more each time I get someone else's take on the way things are around here. I feel a tingle in my heart, like God is pulling on its strings saying "see, you are exactly where you are supposed to be right now and even if it's a little difficult, there are many blessings to be found here."

The truth is, I don't want a big fancy house and a lot of stuff to keep me and the kids occupied. I'd like to live more simply, actually. I just want a slightly bigger home where we aren't falling all over each other and the noise can be contained (sometimes) in an area where it won't disturb a working husband on the phone with a client in the office which is right next to the playroom, or a sleeping 21 month old in the bedroom down the short hall. We want land to build our business on and to have a few farm animals. I want chickens! I want our children to be content playing with each other and our animals and doing work around our home instead of wanting to be out and about, always on the go, doing things and needing new gadgets and toys. I want to get back to the basics, like planting a larger garden, and teaching my children about simple living despite a materialistic world. I am content to drink out of glass jars when our "fancy" glasses are all broken instead of wasting money on new ones, and composting my kitchen scraps instead of wasting them in the trash (which we haven't done yet because we have no room for a compost pile), and cloth diapering (which I've done for the last 3 years) to save us from spending money and not contributing to the chemicals in the landfills.

I guess part of me wants to get to that simplicity of living so badly that being where we are right now, which hinders the ability to do some of the stuff I want to do, makes me feel anxious and depressed. But I know the intent is there, the desire to do what God wants us to do, in His perfect timing. The frigid temps of winter, where everything seemed lifeless and gray, always magnified my depression and the thoughts that things will never be different. The flooding rains we've had after the winter, when the sun is held captive behind black clouds pregnant with more and more rain, seem to drown out that hope for the next season of life. It's hard for a small flower to be content in a garden that hardly sees the sun and is constantly drowning in murky water.

I think about Noah on that ark, floating around with his family while darkness and rain persisted, drowning the world around them. I compare it to my floating through life, sometimes drowning in the dark and rain. But just like after the time of flooding and darkness that Noah and his family endured, there's always the sun - a giant source of warmth and hope. It must have encouraged Noah as he drifted for 150 days on the flooded world after the rain had stopped. He knew it would dry the waters and fulfill God's promise to him. Just like Noah, I take this beautiful gift from God- high in the sky shining down on me- as a tangible reminder of His love for me and the promises He not only makes but always keeps.

Hurting People Hurt

2011-05-16T12:43:00.011-04:00

Just yesterday I was in a discussion with a woman and it suddenly turned very ugly. What I thought was her attempt to answer a question I didn't ask ended up being a ploy to bait me into a discussion so that she could belittle me, tear me to pieces and basically tell me I wasn't important, all the while completely denying that there was any truth to what I was saying to her. My attempts at being completely unbiased and loving to her about a situation which occurred before this discussion were deemed nothing more than my having an arrogant, know-it-all personality, and that I was trying to be God. However, what really cut to my heart was not all of her lies, misunderstanding, sarcasm, and defensiveness. It wasn't the fact that she told me that until I receive death threats like she does, I don't have any idea what I'm talking about and I'm unimportant....Nor was it even her inability to talk to me at all like I was a human being. It was the fact that she is in a position of influence and power, and is supposed to be doing God's work for a very important matter of life, yet she has this heart that is still so broken from her past that she is incapable of handling what her skewed perception deems a "tough" situation with someone she doesn't even know. Boy have I been there!

I had to prioritize my purpose in this matter but it was a little bit of a jaunt before I got to realizing that. After I realized that she wasn't going to "play nice," give me the benefit of the doubt and at least TRY to muster up even an ounce of the decency I know she must have, I'm not proud to say I called her a phony, as well as prideful and arrogant. Now, regardless of whether these things are true, I should have never said them. And for that, I am sorry. But once I got to that point, it finally hit me how much Satan had been using BOTH of us in this situation and I suddenly got very angry at the whole thing. Not at her. I wasn't ever angry at her. I have too much pity for her to be angry. The things she said to me were so laughable and sad that I had no room for anger. I know in her position, Satan is working on her very hard right now. He works on all of us when we are doing God's work. She is doing something that Satan really detests. She turned from her life of serving his cause to serving God and that really made him angry. What I absolutely HATE most in this scenario with her is that we both fell for it. I can see why she could as she has so many issues and really was under his grasp in such a strong way for such a long time, but for me to fall for that small temptation just really upsets me.

Of course, I do not think for one second that I am completely unable to be tempted. If I felt that way, I'd be delusional. I'd be prideful. And what's that bible verse about pride? It goes before the fall. If you think you're immune to temptation, take heed lest you fall. Yeah. I'm a sinner just like everyone else and Satan tempts me A LOT, daily, especially concerning my family life....and I fall for it A LOT. But I thought I was a little bit further along in my ability to avoid falling for such a cheap shot as this. Through God's mercy and grace, I've worked so hard for such a long time to come to a place of being able to sense these types of attacks; to see them for what they are before they go too far. And yet, somehow, I didn't see this one. I even knew a little of what type of person she was capable of being, and yet still wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt, reach out to her, love her. And most of what I said to her was just that. But when I lowered the bar of morality and deemed it acceptable for myself to call her names, I lost myself in that temptation and let sin take over. I'm angry at myself. I know I can be tempted and fall, I just thought it'd be a little less easy to do it with something like this.

What is SO amazing about God, though, is that He takes these situations and uses them for His good. If I hadn't ever had this "opportunity" to fail, I wouldn't have been reminded of a very important set of lessons. Not only that hurting people hurt and we should pray for them when they hurt us, but that no matter what Satan does, God is so much bigger than he is and God can work in the hearts of the people Satan has used. I mean, just looking at the history of this woman's life, I can see that. She is doing something so amazing right now with her life and her efforts are commendable in so many ways. God has taken her from her awful past and put her back on the path He had for her and she is letting Him. We are kindred spirits in that respect. Not only that, but I know there are times, like the small blip in this situation, when I have let my feelings of hurt hinder Christ's love from shining through me 100%. So God has worked in my heart to forgive her by reminding me that He (and those I have hurt before) have forgiven me.

One other amazing outcome of this whole thing is that I actually got an apology from her. Never in a thousand years would I have even expected one, let alone think I'd get it. The cynical side of me (Satan?) wants to believe she didn't really mean it, but I am just going to give her the benefit of the doubt and accept it. I appreciate that she even said anything. It also gave me a chance to apologize for those silly names I called her. I'm still mad at myself for that and I really have to pray hard to get passed this whole thing. But most importantly, I need to pray for her; that she will continue on this path with God, that He blesses her efforts, and most importantly, that He will pour His grace and mercy over her like warm oil, helping her heal from her past so that He can continue to use her for His purposes.

The Invisible World, A Book Review

2011-05-05T20:24:00.007-04:00

I have been waiting to do this review until I got a copy in the mail to do a free give-away as well but alas, the extra copy has not come yet and I just can't wait any longer! I really wanted to share this book with you so that you could glean from it as much knowledge, insight and awe as I did! So I'm offering my own copy of this book as the free give-away.

But first, the review:

The Invisible World: Understanding Angels, Demons And The Spiritual Realities That Surround Us is a Christian book written by the very talented Anthony DeStefano. This amazing little gem has ten very simple-to-read, thought-provoking chapters. With titles like The Haunt Detector, Invisible Helpers, Invisible Evil and The Invisible Power of Suffering, you can automatically assume just from looking at the table of contents that Mr. DeStefano has some powerful and deeply-thought ideas and truths to express within.

The Invisible World is written based on traditional Christian teaching and relates powerful truths in a way that helps us to understand our beliefs and their origins- including the first sin, the fall of man and of Satan, and how it all intertwines to create the invisible spiritual world which not only circles our own lives but folds itself into the layers, rooting deep meaning and matter into our existence. This amazing book gives us a glimpse into the very real battle for our souls which we cannot see, how it affects us on a daily basis, God's infinite grace, and life after death. In a tangible way, it explains what our soul is, its purpose and value, and what God's plan for each of us is.

Mr. DeStefano leaves nothing out, answering many of the questions we Christians often find ourselves asking like "Why is God invisible?" "What is the point of suffering?" and "What happens after we die?" One thing I loved is that he provided personal anecdotes from his own life to convey his ideas and draw the reader into his message. My favorite of these was when he wrote about his Italian grandmother who suffered through life in a great way, silently, turning to prayer for her family as her strength- and how it affected his family lineage to the point where, even though he and his siblings grew up without a religious background, somehow found their way to God's path for their lives. It was in this anecdote that he explained how the prayerful suffering of someone who lived long before they did somehow manifested itself in their lives in such a way that brought them to God. He calls it redemptive suffering. She suffered for the sake of others, for her family, even the ones she would never know.

The final chapter, entitled Seeing The Invisible gives us simple guidelines and great encouragement to seek the ability to view this invisible world, not with our human eyes but with the eyes of our souls. Mr. DeStefano makes a promise that our lives will be forever-changed once we take his suggested steps, and start asking our heavenly Father to reveal this invisible world to us in that manner. I highly recommend this book as not only a very good and insightful read, but as a stepping stone to help us reach the full potential He has planned for our lives; to learn to live according to God's will, to see things the way He wants us to see them and to serve Him and others in this world so we can be with Him in the next. I am so privileged to have been solicited for a review of this work and to be able to pass it on to you!

So with that, I will now offer a free give-away of the book The Invisible World by Anthony DeStefano. In order to win, you must leave a comment here specifically about your thoughts on the spiritual world. I will put in a hat the names of everyone who commented and have my oldest daughter draw one out on Monday, May 9. Good luck to each and everyone of you! And, if you don't win, I encourage you to buy a copy and read this wonderful book!

Just a little note!

2011-05-04T15:20:00.005-04:00

The first time I ever heard of the amazing midwife, Ina May Gaskin, I was pregnant with my first baby. I didn't know much about her but I learned more as I became a mother for the first time. When I was pregnant with my second baby, I read about her even more, read her book "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth," and really fell in love with her! After getting to know her ideas and beliefs concerning childbirth and a woman's body, the idea of a natural childbirth at home really appealed to me, especially after I had the experience I did with my first baby's birth. I wished I lived closer to her center at The Farm so I could birth there! Her center is well-known for "low rates of intervention, morbidity and mortality despite the inclusion of many vaginally delivered breeches, twins and grand multi paras*." She even has a maneuver named after her (The Gaskin Maneuver), which is widely-known in both the obstetrical and midwifery fields.

Today I learned she has a new book out called "Birth Matters," and I really think it probably is a very good read for any mama out there, whether new or experienced. I haven't read it yet but would like to get my hands on it. I entered a contest through Mothering Magazine today to try to win a free copy and I decided to post the link on here. If you would like to enter, go here. If I win, I will be sure to post a review soon. If I don't, at some point I will read the book and post a review then!

Good luck to all of you who decide to enter.

*Taken from the biography section of Ina May's website

The Stuff Memories Are Made Of

2011-04-29T13:44:00.006-04:00

Giggles at 5 AM.

There's a storm screaming outside; torrential rain, rolling thunder - the works. And two littles are hunkered down in our bed, having wandered in still half-asleep after a particularly loud crack of thunder.

A small flashlight illuminates the darkness and the kids shift and wiggle, commenting nervously about the storm- the thunder and lightening being just a little too dramatic and difficult for their young little minds to not run crazy with. I draw them close and assure them it's just God up there doing His thing. I tell them He's bowling (thunder) and that his candles (lightening) are flickering in the wind as He, like us, has no electrical power right now. They seem to like this explanation (5 AM is just too early for a science lesson), and accept it more as they relax and settle deeper in the covers...and then they start to crack jokes.

Aware that I'm probably not going back to sleep anytime soon, and wanting to see how these moments play out, I let them giggle and wiggle and banter back and forth. I shush them a little but only playfully. I'm having too much fun. Aidan often doesn't hear things right so when I say something to the affect of "lay down and get some sleep," he replies in old-lady fashion "heh? you want me to sweep?" or something equally nonsensical. This of course makes us all laugh and in typical little-kid fashion, a game ensues of rhyming silly words with anything anyone says thereafter. Joe is in and out of broken sleep but I am awake, cherishing every moment with my two older kids. The two younger ones are asleep in their beds, no doubt completely ignorant of the storm outside and the comedy club in the next room.

Aidan holds a flashlight for his sister as she makes her way to the bathroom. He leans over his snoring daddy to shine it toward the bathroom across the hall, instead of walking with her as she begged him to do. A little brother's love sometimes only goes so far, especially at 5 in the morning.

This reminds me of the times when I was young and we had overnight storms. No matter what fights took place earlier, we'd all ban together to accompany each other to the bathroom, hold a flashlight for each other while getting some water or a snack, or just snuggling under the blankets as we tried to pretend we weren't really scared of the storm. My favorite memory from these times is having a big "camp out" in the tiny hallway that connected our bedrooms. Not quite sure how 7 of us fit in that space with our blankets and pillows and the all-important stuffed animals. But somehow, we managed. Close to the bathroom and our parents' room, we hunkered down in the dark hallway, sharing giggles, worries, blankets and hugs; comforted more by our warm bodies and closeness than the single flashlight we shared between us. Of course, mom was usually part of the equation at some point.

Comforting words are shared between the two in my bed when nervousness ensues after a loud explosion of thunder and lightening. Hiding under the blanket making sure all body parts are covered. Quietly acknowledging we're in this together. This is the stuff that memories are made of. Nights like tonight remind me to take each moment with my children and help them to create lasting snapshots of childhood which they can pull out when they're older and comfort themselves with in the midst of even the craziest and difficult storms of their life.

A Big No Thank You To Being PC

2011-04-27T15:13:00.010-04:00

When did being "PC" become more important than morality?

I'm just wondering. Because last I checked, God hasn't changed at all even though the world has. Of course, we could all use a little brushing up on 'speaking the truth in love,' but I have to remain solid on my belief that just because you know that what someone else is doing is wrong, doesn't mean you are automatically judging them/being insensitive/arguing..etc..etc.. and that you have to keep your mouth shut. As a society we have fallen deeply into this HUGE lie which Satan has whispered into our hearts and minds called political correctness. Make no mistake; I'm not saying we should all go around bashing each other for what we do and say or how we act and live. I definitely don't agree with hostile protests and attacks supposed "Christians" partake in against their "heathen" peers, belittling or angrily scoffing at them . There is a very important verse about taking the plank out of our own eyes before trying to remove the splinter in someone else's, referenced several times in the Bible. It's valid and definitely worth a ton of consideration and prayer.

However, there is also another verse, in Ephesians (a), which states "Therefore, putting away falsehood, speak the truth, each one to his neighbor, for we are members one of another." This means that we are called to tell the truth to each other to keep the unity which God intends. Speaking that truth does not mean saying "to each his own." It does not mean saying "well the law says it's OK." And it certainly does not mean swallowing our words and turning a blind eye in the name of being politically correct. One of the things that is completely wrong with being so PC is that it focuses on the me in everything. It is a selfish outlook. More and more, people are forgetting that their actions don't just affect themselves. They affect the nation; society as a whole is hurt by the wicked actions of one man. Even if it's not directly, that little tear in one man's life can vein out and destroy so many others. A great example, which I hesitate to use only for the reason that this woman has since become a Christian and regrets her actions of early life, is the woman whose case Roe vs. Wade became the irrevocable turning point in history when our culture became a culture of death. (Icing on that cake, by the way, is that she never even had the abortion she fought so hard to gain the right to have.)

Another even more pertinent verse is written in the wise counsel of Proverbs (b). "He who says to the wicked man, 'You are just'-men will curse him, people will denounce him; But those who convict the evildoer will fare well, and on them will come the blessing of prosperity." God is telling us that if we hold accountable those who do wrong, those who go against the laws which He has set for us, we are in the right. We will be blessed by Him because we are speaking out in His name. This isn't passing judgment; that is God's place. If we do it right- speaking the truth in love- we are fulfilling that calling. God set His laws up so that we are unified in our actions and in our journey to Him. If there are ten Christian woman in a group and one is thinking of having an abortion (yes, there are "Christians" who actually believe it's OK!!!), the other nine are called to speak the truth in love and steer her away from that decision; NOT say "well it's none of my business and to each her own." Regardless of what each woman thinks, from the very day the one woman puts her decision to action, there will be a great divide among them. God's plan is not for us to be divided but to be united in Him, in Christ His son whom He sacrificed for us in order for us to be able to live with Him in paradise. To ignore this type of parasite or to take part in it yourself would be to basically spit in His face, spit on the cross to which Jesus was nailed and tell Him it's not good enough.

Abortion is just one of many things we are being forced to be politically correct about. Preachers can't even preach publicly anymore about the sinfulness of homosexuality without fear of being arrested or worse. Once again, this is NOT passing judgment for him to do this, it is reiterating the Word of God to His people, encouraging each other to not accept this ticket to hell-in-a-hand-basket which we all seem so eager to take in the name of political correctness. There are even some denominations which say it's OK to be homosexual. God loves every single one of His children the same; He does not hate any of them. He does, however, hate their actions which defy His laws and create a divide not only among His people but between Him and the offender. Think about it in terms of your own children. You can never actually hate your child for eating a piece of candy before dinner after you've explicitly told him not to. But you can hate his actions and you will punish him for them. This doesn't mean you love him any less and in fact, it means you do love him a lot- your discipline for his defying your rules is a measure of that love. It's the same thing which God does with any of the sins which cause us to be separated from Him. There are consequences to the actions we take that go against the laws He has set for us out of His own love for us. There are many more we are told to be PC about but those are just two I wanted to mention.

We also can't be too caught up in how others react to what we say. If we make sure our intent is love and we are acting out that love through our words, if the other person takes it the wrong way or gets defensive, that is on them not us. I have had this issue with a very important person in my life and everything is taken as judgment when that's not my intent. There are many factors which play a role in this person's automatic defensiveness but I have to believe that one of them is probably that in their heart, they know that I am speaking the truth. It's a natural reaction sometimes, especially if you are quite sensitive and conditioned to be defensive, to react in that way when you feel bad for your actions. It's a crazy cycle but one we have to break, for ourselves and each other. The natural defensiveness we often feel in these situations is because we know somewhere deep down that what the other person says is true and it makes us feel bad. People who have not given their soul to Satan, which I venture to say is most people, have a deep longing within to be good, to follow God's laws and love and serve Him, even if they're unaware of that longing. If we break His rules, we naturally feel bad but if it's brought to our attention, pride can often stand in our way of being able to recognize the truth, and instead we react defensively.

This push to be politically correct within our society feeds that pride. It feeds the arrogance which backs the "to each his own" argument. Being sensitive to- and respectful of- other people's beliefs is completely different than saying "your sinful actions are just." Whenever I hear those prideful declarations, I want to not only take the plank out of my own eye but beat that person with it until they understand! OK, not really, I'm just joking...but I think it's one of my biggest pet peeves. You know why? Because it sort of declares that that person is copping out. They don't want to go against the PC rule; they don't want to go against the crowd. They want to hide behind their fear of getting involved. They're kinda like Pontius Pilate in a way. He washed his hands of Jesus' destiny. He left it to the crowd - a crowd which all joined together and sneered at Jesus, screaming to crucify Him. He copped out because he didn't want to stand up for Him. But you know what? Jesus still asked His father to forgive these people. He loved them that much. Not only that but the search for divine Truth is not supposed to end when we are made to feel uncomfortable with what we currently believe. Political correctness stunts and stalls that search; it turns it around to the search for self, a search which only leads to spiritual death.

This life is not about being politically correct. It's about living for eternal life with our Father, storing up our treasures for Heaven. I'd rather live now going against the grain of political correctness, then be dead after this life because I refused to follow the rules which are set in love for us by our Heavenly Father. It's His love which we must proclaim with each other through our journey, a love that sets those rules for us to follow precisely so that we can reach the promised land which, if you think about it, is not politically correct at all.

(a)Ephesians 4:25 (NIV)
(b)Proverbs 24:24-25 (NIV)

The Presence of God

2011-04-21T14:09:00.007-04:00

I am really convicted of the importance of teaching my children from a young age about the presence of God. "He's everywhere," I tell them "in all things..." "He's in the trees?" Aidan asks in awe as he peers out the window at the pine trees bending and swaying in the breeze. "And the flowers?" chimes a hopeful and delighted Angelina who just loves all flowers. "Yes, everything. He's in everything that He has made and He is with you all the time. Even when Daddy and Mommy aren't with you, He's there. When you're all alone in your room, He's there." Angelina stares at me as if she's trying to decide whether she actually believes me. I want so badly for my children to believe me, especially her.

In the new routine I've gotten into during the day I have found my times in prayer have so much more depth to them than prayer time used to. Especially when I go through my list of others' needs. In these moments I am drawn to an emotional aspect of my connection with my heavenly Father. It often makes me cry, hearing the words I say- things I already know in my heart like how much He loves His children and how merciful He is. It just somehow seems to dig a little deeper into my heart, hearing these things said out loud in own my voice to a quiet empty room where I know He is with me.

I recently had a conversation with someone about moments in which our faith just sort of overwhelms us. Like at Mass or after confession or in quiet moments spent in prayer and reflection during the day. Thinking about it over the past few weeks when I've really had such a special time in my specific moments of prayer, I have realized that these times of being overwhelmed are not just being overwhelmed by my faith which has carried me and brought me such strength in my journey, but by God Himself. His presence is even more tangible in these moments and it only makes sense to be overwhelmed by Him because He is almighty, ever-living, omnipresent, sovereign and just. He's loving and forgiving and merciful. He is not bound by time nor space nor circumstance; and He's definitely not bound by any box we try to put Him in. He works mysteriously but for the good of our souls, our relationship with Him, His purpose for our life. How can one not be overwhelmed by all that when you're sitting in the presence of His Holy Spirit, praising Him and relinquishing control of your life to Him?

So how do you explain this to a 5 or 6 year old? How do you tell them of the power, wonder and beauty that is our heavenly Father and that He's not just in the trees and flowers but in each of them? How do you explain the connection that can occur when you're spending time with Him, thanking and praising Him and petitioning for the needs of others and your own?

I'm pretty sure it's inherent in all of us- even if we aren't aware of it- to long for Him; to know these truths already somewhere within our souls, to desire to spend time with Him and drink in His perfect and overwhelming love. Unlocking that longing and knowledge is the first step in teaching our children about Him.. Finding ways to relate everything back to God and His son, Jesus and the Holy Spirit which fills us with His love is the best route to take with the young ones. Starting out with the trees and flowers and empty rooms where He is with us speaks to the child-like innocence and wonder of any one's heart. Our children are blank slates and the position we have to teach them about the love of God and His will for our life is a very powerful one. It's not just about helping them to believe us; it's about helping them to believe Him; to let their faith take them to places of being overwhelmed by His presence and basking in the knowledge that He is indeed with us in all things, everywhere.

Affliction

2011-04-18T19:04:00.010-04:00

Affliction - noun
(uh-flick-shuh n)

1. a state of great suffering of body or mind
2. deep sadness especially for the loss of someone or something loved2.

There are many synonyms for affliction; struggle can be one, or cross, hurt and anguish. We often find it hard to recognize that affliction is a good thing and if used correctly, holds the secret to a very important aspect of our lives as Children of God.

One of my favorite passages in the bible is Romans 5:3-5. The domino effect of affliction is cast in a positive light, its course streaming along through the darkness to reach the flip side: hope. Along the way to hope we meet endurance and proven character and all three of these- the offspring of affliction- lead us to the realization that God loves us. But how does one get from point A to point B; or rather, from affliction to knowing God's love? Do we just read this passage in Romans and we are then suddenly transferred there by way of a teleport machine? God, I wish it were that easy.

My siblings and I always joke about having a teleport machine. When we're on the phone and talking about a yummy food (as we often are), one of us will say "did you get that teleport machine fixed yet, send that stuff over?!" Or if we wish we could be there to help, hold or hang out with one another, it might be "darn it, how come no one has invented a teleport machine yet??" Small potatoes, I know, compared to moving from affliction to hope. The wait for that yummy morsel of food or a visit with family is probably a lot easier and less treacherous than the path of affliction. There is a reason why teleport machines haven't been invented. And there is a reason why affliction takes the path that it does in order to reach that glorious hope at the end.

Right now, I'm facing great affliction. There is a lot of stuff going on but one main thing that is at the forefront of my mind is, not so surprisingly, something having to do with a family member. I am in agony as I try to figure out exactly what I did wrong. It's like playing a guessing game with a mute. This family member whom I love so dearly isn't speaking to me or my husband; our kids have been in recent situations to clue them- or at least my older daughter- in to the fact that something is not quite right. And honestly, I want to throw a bubble around them and not let them experience any of this ridiculousness and unnecessary hurt because it has nothing to do with them. But, like all things related to sin, there is always damage, maybe a few casualties, and sometimes there is a whole lot of loss of innocence as the real world comes a little too close for comfort and we have no choice but to explain it.

In talking to a very wise person recently about the situation and what to do; I was told to just let it be and continue to pray for this family member. I was also told by someone else that this situation the kids are experiencing isn't going to be that difficult for them and they'll bounce back and move on. I keep trying to restrain my Mama Bear instincts to protect them from any hurt - big or small - because I know that some things are better left alone. They will go through this affliction with us and will realize the truth on their own and it will disappoint them and it might hurt them a little but they will move on to their "new norm," get used to things as they are and if we do this right, we'll teach them to just pray for this person as we have been because that's the only way we can love her right now.

But then there's me. I'm sensitive. I love so much it hurts. I don't want anyone mad at me. If someone is mad at me, I want to know why. I let things bother me much more than is healthy sometimes. I mean, I have my own life to live. I have a family; 4 babies to take care of, a husband to love, a business to run, a writing career to sort out (?)... I don't have the time to be spending on thinking deeply about this, wondering what I can do to fix it (nothing), what I did wrong (again, nothing). Worrying. Crying. Hurting. Afflicted. The wise advice I was given also assured me that the problem is not me and that I have to recognize that because I've done all I can do, including apologize (for something I didn't do), and pray. Apologize and pray. Does that produce endurance or proven character? Or is it both? Where is my hope? When can I see that last part?

I try not to be angry. I go in spurts with that. But for the most part, I am just incredibly sad and hurt. I'm sad to see this codependent behavior take over someone who at one point wanted nothing more than to be the exact opposite of a codependent. I'm sad to realize that everything I've been told by this person over the years has been a big fat lie. I'm sad to know that everything I've ever done in love was taken the wrong way, twisted and spit back in my face long after; rejected after the fact because this person thought it was judgment or an attempt to control. I'm sad to realize this person has never known who I am.

It seems that everything I know about this person's issues with me/us, and the things I can pretty much guess at, aren't even really true and there isn't a just cause for her anger. I can sit and analyze all I want but the truth of the matter is that it doesn't matter. It doesn't even matter if I try to set the record straight, as I tried once with one of the issues I knew she had. It didn't matter and it won't still if I continue to try. I was thinking about this the other day as we approached Passion Sunday. Jesus' very crucifixion was based on things people thought about Him that weren't exactly true; some of it was probably based on jealousy, some probably on blindness and pride. Yet He didn't bother to set the record straight or analyze anything. He had a purpose. He knew His purpose and that it needed to be fulfilled. So He let them hurt Him. He let them cause affliction to His body. He let them do it because He knew it would produce hope. He died to bring about that hope.

Of course, my affliction is far less than Christ's and yet, we are connected just the same in the fact that every affliction, no matter how great or how small, takes the same course if we let it. Endurance. Proven Character. Hope. So, I'm running this race that is set before me, dying to myself so that I can love this person and reach that hope at the end, basking in the love of God. I'm crying out to the Lord for strength and even thanksgiving for this affliction. Because I know that it IS producing endurance, proven character, and hope. Not necessarily hope that things will work out with us because maybe they won't. Given that this is Holy Week and I am acutely aware of the meaning and purpose of our Lord's Passion, I cling to Him even more. I hope in Christ, who died for us while we were still sinners, proving God's love for us through His affliction.

"......knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us." ~Romans 5:3-5 NAB

Definition of Affliction produced by Merriam-Webster Dictionary Online, Pronunciation by Dictionary.com.

Making Amends

2011-04-16T20:06:00.009-04:00

Something exciting has been transpiring over the past few months. In December, we invited Joe's step mom up for a visit after over two years of no contact with her. What happened to warrant a disconnection from her is a big long story in and of itself, which I have often alluded to on this blog. We basically were hurt repeatedly by negative attitudes, unwarranted judgment, and hurtful words and actions, and we found the only answer we had at the time was to stop talking to her indefinitely. But during that time, as we prayed for healing and understanding, we came to a place of taking a leap of faith and really placing the situation in God's hands. It's been an arduous journey. There was a huge part of the past two years that we knew we should try to make amends but were too afraid of being hurt again. It came down to a lot of debating, a little coaxing and some time of letting go of those fears in order for my husband to agree to try.

The visit in December went really well. I know we all felt a little nervous but it seemed like things worked in such a way that the kids felt comfortable, we felt comfortable and it all seemed to flow nicely. After that, his step mom and I started to rebuild our relationship by talking through email, though it seemed my husband was still a little hesitant of things moving forward and has yet to talk much to her. There was so much that had happened and a lot of hurt in the past but being as I am a little further ahead in my faith when there are difficulties in our lives, I pressed on, determined to make it work this time.

The Lord has worked slowly but surely in this process and our path in this journey seems right. It probably will be some time before all those fears are completely gone and trust is restored 100% but I feel confident in His purposes for our relationship with her. It has me thinking about the every day small miracles that can occur. In the beginning of the two years, we were pretty sure we would never see or talk to her again. Not necessarily because we wanted that, but because we thought things were irreparable. In that time of adjusting and brokenness, we weren't really considering what God might want for us in this situation. Our hearts were fearful of doing anything but cutting ties indefinitely and moving on with our lives.

One important thing I did, even as we cut ties with her, was apologize for any behavior I contributed to us getting where we ended up with her. I meant it, too. I couldn't believe things had deteriorated that much to bring us to that place of disconnection. It really broke my heart. I have always felt it is very important to apologize when I know I've hurt someone or not acted as I should. A heart-felt apology shows the other person your love, it helps place a foundation for change and amends, and it aids in the cleansing of your soul. Another thing I did was to eventually forgive her for the hurt she caused. It's difficult to do this when you don't get an apology but it's important nonetheless. It frees you to heal and move on; it gives the other person grace, it brings you an amazing peace and a strong connection to the Heavenly Father Who is the Ultimate Forgiver. He forgives us even when we haven't yet said we're sorry. He bestows grace upon us when we finally confess our sins to Him, cleansing our souls of our transgressions.

Even though our hearts began to soften to the situation a few months after our decision was made to disconnect from her, it still took a little time. When the dark clouds had moved out and we could see clearly again and breathe like we hadn't before, we knew that things could not continue this way. For the remainder of the time, it was in the back of our minds working its way slowly to the forefront. God used that time to heal our hurt (mine especially), to work in my heart and to remind me to pray. I didn't always but I tried to remember as often as I could to pray for my mother-in-law and for the situation. The outcome is a huge testament to God's work and His plans for our lives. If we have willing hearts and a conviction to do what's right, serving Him by loving others who might be a little difficult to love, He will bless us. I see that time of struggle and prayer as a definite blessing as I look back on it now. This time of rebuilding our relationship is also a blessing, and I hope for the blessing of a close bond with her sometime in the future.

Amends isn't just about saying you're sorry. It's about making things right. It doesn't always include hashing out details of the situation, but that is often a huge part of it. For us, it didn't seem to need to be though at some point in our journey there might be things that need to be resolved; questions we have or feelings we need to get out. But the journey we are on is so far a good one. I see so much that has changed in her as well; God had also been working on her in that time and the changes He has made in both of us has allowed for the path to not be as difficult as I had thought it would be.

From On Top of My SoapBox: A Challenge To All Mothers

2011-04-12T20:44:00.001-04:00

I decided today I'm going to be on my soapbox. Because I think that it's time and because I think it is needed. I see too many mamas out there who don't do very much, if any, of what I'm going to write about, and it saddens and angers me all at the same time. BUT I stand on my soapbox today with gentleness and good-nature. My soapbox is not really a means to be annoyingly overbearing on what I think, but just a step up because I'm kinda short and want to make sure you can see me!

Today from my soapbox I am giving you all a challenge. This challenge is directed at mothers, whether Christians or not, though the very nature of a mother was planted in us by the Hand of the loving God Who made us.

My challenge to you is this:

Love your children. Really love them. Seek every opportunity to look into their faces, searching their eyes for that connection which resides between every mother and child, and strengthen it. Search their hearts and seek out new and deeper ways to speak to those radiant hearts in Love. Teach them to be kind, to be gentle, to be patient by being these things yourself. Show them what true Love really is.

Discipline your children. In love, not anger. Don't be afraid to correct them when they are out of line. Teach them self-control, honor, and respect. Don't give in just because they cry a lot. Start early with this. It's never too soon but it can be too late before you know it.

Spend time with your children. Play with them. Don't make them feel like they are a burden just because they want your attention at the most inconvenient time. Mothering isn't about convenience. It's about sacrifice. It's one of the vocations in life which require you to go completely outside yourself for the good of someone else.

Hold on to your children. Hold their hands. Hold their hearts. Hold their whole bodies and snuggle on the couch. Don't be too quick to wish they'd just grow up. Relish every second you have with them. Not only because they grow up way too fast anyway, but because any single moment with them could very well be your last.

Finally, let your children change you. God gave each child a very specific personality and set of traits designed especially to teach us lessons and mold us into His image. How amazing is that?! Let your children change you, grow you, help you become the person God intended you to be. Don't write them off just because they are children; even though they might not be aware of it, He is using them as tools to chisel and shape you. Let them. Let Him.

Please don't think I'm giving you all this challenge without taking it to heart myself. I will be first to admit that I am sometimes a failure in some- if not all- of these areas. But more and more I am convicted of the fact that we are not promised another day, hour or even second on this earth (thank you to my sister Mary for reminding me yet again of this very important fact), and I need to use my time wisely. God gave me these children for a specific purpose; a mission was given to me the moment I was aware of their presence within my womb. I have to own that role, take on that mission and raise my children for His purposes. It's a scary and crazy and often bumpy ride but I would be a complete failure all the time if I didn't give the reigns to God, follow His lead and be the mother He calls me to be.

"If you bungle raising your children, I don't think whatever else you do well matters very much." ~Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis

(Image: "Motherhood" by Mary Cassatt)

Falling In Love With My Husband For The Very First Time

2011-03-08T15:26:00.012-05:00

Those of you who know me and my husband Joe, know the story of "US." What you might not know is that it has taken me a very long time to really give Joe my heart completely. Our story is kind of crazy, the beginning being so mixed with feelings of love, hate, anger and a little happiness somewhere in there in spurts as we tried to blend our hearts and lives. We basically maintained a steady stream of such throughout the next 6 years of our marriage, all set to the tune of some sort of music we couldn't quite hear, but would be the glue that held us together and made us grow strong. This music was from heaven, a much-needed source to make it through what we would face in the coming years.

We got married based on a little seed of love we had planted but it wasn't the same type of love most people have when they decide to get married. We had never been through the “in love” stage where everything seems brighter than it really is, where you laugh easily at each other, feel giddy when you’re preparing for a night out together. We never really dated, actually. Our wedding was not followed by a honeymoon, nor by a honeymoon stage. We were thrown into real life quite quickly and would have to wait to hear the birds chirping loudly whenever we were around each other. Sometimes I felt like I’d probably be waiting forever.

Through the ups and downs of our marriage and in the maze that often seemed cloaked in darkness, we meandered blindly, praying to God that we could somehow find- and make grow- this little seed of love. It was there somewhere, though it was a little mangled and quite small. It was so difficult to dig on days when thunder would roll in and all we could see was red through our anger, a blue-gray sadness through our rainfall of tears.. But we kept digging; sometimes I was the one doing all the digging. Sometimes not at all. Sometimes, so many times, we walked away from that hole, covered in mud and left void of all energy to continue. But nothing productive had been done.

Recently, we took a trip together that would change our lives and our relationship. We went to a Marriage Encounter and found each other. We fell in love for the first time. We bled our hearts out to each other the entire weekend, drawing closer and closer as we clung to each other and listened to the music growing louder and louder. I gave Joe my heart 100% that weekend, something I had been diligently praying to be able to do for over 2 years. I suddenly viewed him in a completely different way than I had ever been able to before. I knew I loved him and I could see the potential for what we could have. I knew he was a good man with a beautiful heart. I sometimes caught glimpses of how I could feel, how things could be, what we could be together but it was never enough before. I also didn’t want to base our future on feelings. We both knew feelings were fleeting and that most people get divorced because they just don’t feel like working hard to continue, because they feel like they fell out of love and it must be the end of things when that happens.

No, I didn’t want to base our future on that. So we drew closer to each other over the weekend, learning new things and relearning old things about each other, healing from a lot of misunderstandings and hurts, breaking down walls we each had built, and most importantly, learning a new tool of communication to help us stay on our path. I opened my heart to him through the prompting of the Holy Spirit, knowing that he’d always have it no matter what my feelings were at any given moment. We made a commitment to each other to work on our relationship through our newly-learned communication technique, and decided to put everything that had happened to bring us down in the past where it belonged.

On the final day there, at Mass we were surprised when Father Pete announced that we’d be renewing our wedding vows. I remembered that saying those words had not left a huge impression on me the first time around, as I stood there at the altar trying to figure out what they really meant and how I would live them out. Even when we renewed them the following year on our anniversary, I still had no clue. But this time around, as the words from him to me floated so sweetly off his lips, I was intoxicated by them, caught up in their meaning and how I truly knew at that moment that not only did he really mean them but that he would actually make the effort to show me that he meant them. When I said the same words to him, I felt their weight leave my mouth, dancing between us and settling themselves in both our hearts. I saw recognition in his eyes, like he knew how truly I meant them as well. And I knew in my heart that I did and always would- til death do us part.

Another Fresh Air Fund Marathon

2011-02-21T10:08:00.005-05:00

I love having some small part in sharing information about really good causes. So here is another quick post for The Fresh Air Fund for the next marathon:

On March 20th, there will be another half-marathon in NYC and the Fresh Air Fund-Racers team needs more runners to benefit this worthy cause. For those of you who don't know what the Fresh Air Fund is, it is a not-for-profit agency which provides summer experiences in the country for children from disadvantaged communities. Host families and camps in 13 states and Canada welcome these children every year to give them the benefit and enjoyment of country life. To learn more about this awesome cause, click here.

If you would like to be a runner in this March's race, click here for more info.

The Fresh Air Fund is also in need of more host families for this summer. A host family volunteers to open their home and family life to a child or children from the city, giving them a "fresh air experience they'll never forget." If you would like to host a child this summer, click here for info.

Thoughts From the Brink of Insanity

2011-02-07T11:39:00.009-05:00

The only thing worse than insanity is a lifetime of standing on its brink. That's how I feel anyway. Because my entire life has felt sort of like this chaotic whirlwind of high emotions, low retreats and a fundamental sadness that has encompassed it all. I have sat on the brink of insanity and darkness within my mind for so long that I should probably invest in real estate here. The anticipation of finally jumping off feels akin to the sick nauseated feeling I got just before I jumped out of an airplane when I was 21. But it's different in that I have no idea what awaits me in the darkness below. So I stand here, teetering.

Becoming a mother of four small children has definitely held me firmly here on this brink at times and other times it has nudged me closer to tumbling over the edge. Motherhood so far has been a culmination of anxiety, fear, stress, worry, joy, love, happiness, sadness and peace. It is in essence a mirror image to my life before I became a mother, where my right hand raises when my left hand does but different because in that hand I hold the hearts of 4 children instead of a fist of air.

Through this waiting on the edge I have looked back a few times, wondering what will happen if I just step back one step, or maybe two. Can I even do that or are my feet stuck in place until it's time to jump, until I cross paths with that last event or emotion or person which unglues my toes enough to help me over the edge?

It seems like I have a choice but maybe I really don't. I wait for God to give me an answer but no matter how hard I pray, all I hear is silence. Insanity looks a little scary and yet standing here for so long, the view has become somewhat familiar and comforting, maybe even beautiful, like freedom. Perhaps it won't be so bad?

Or maybe I'm looking at this all wrong...

I recently read a true story about a man who lived his life in service to everyone around him. From befriending people who didn't have any friends to counseling pregnant teens and substance abusers and from donating most of his meager income to Catholic Relief Services to helping and caring for his sick and elderly neighbors, this man was thought of as a piece of Jesus on earth. He was devout in his faith and spent his life serving others through that faith. But this man struggled with anorexia and his life was eventually claimed by heart failure due to his illness.

So here is this man, deeply committed to living like Jesus, a devout Catholic with a personal relationship with Christ serving and living for everyone else as he struggled with his own personal problem. It was his cross which he bore without complaint. He took it upon his back and walked with his own father, counseling him as he discerned his vocation in life. He hid it in his heart as he helped countless people get clean from drugs and alcohol. He knelt each night on a prayer bench praying for every person who had been ignorant or rude to him, every person he met on the street or counseled in his various careers, every person he knew had no one else- all while struggling with his illness. It was his illness which helped to lead him deeper into his faith.

I wonder if he ever knelt on that prayer bench and asked God to heal him from his anorexia? To dissolve his mental process which led him to think he didn't need to eat. Or did he think that this was his cross to bear, something in life which would make him like Jesus even more-so than his servanthood and counsel? This was his brink of insanity and yet he didn't live his life as if he was standing there on that ledge looking down into a darkness he knew would swallow him if he jumped. He was living in a darkness in his own mind where he told himself lies enough to make him sick. He could jump but instead took his position there on that ledge and invested in not real estate but people.

As I sit here on my own brink of insanity, waxing and waning with the stages of life's moon, I'm reminded of an important fact: God does not promise that life will be easy but He does promise us His Love. Sometimes His love does not look like what we think it should, nor does it always come in tangible forms at the exact moment we need it to. But He does love us. And no matter how much darkness I see down below me and how far I feel pushed to that last millimeter of ledge, His Love remains sovereign, solid and the only source from which I will draw my strength to take up my own cross(es) and become more like Jesus.

And no matter how I feel standing on this brink of insanity, no matter what factors come into play each day to frazzle my feelings or take my emotions on another crazy ride, I have people to serve- four little people who test my patience, insult me at times, are addicted to whining and selfish destructive acts....These little people need me to be present, despite my position on this ledge, enough to invest in them and give them what they deserve to have- someone who loves them, serves them and brings them closer to God.

You can read the inspiring story of the man mentioned here.

*Photo by KatBPhotography

The Little Things

2011-01-12T15:27:00.005-05:00

Lately, it's been quite difficult to have a handle on things. I have been immersed in a depression which snuck up on me over the past few months. My main concern is the way I handle my kids. Handle seems like such a harsh word when delivering it with the words 'my kids' but handling is exactly what I have been doing...or not doing, I should say.

I guess it's just the little things. They set me off into a spin of chaos and I find myself unable to listen to their crying, unable to muscle through their demands with ease and patience as I am used to doing. It's the little things that make me want to shut my bedroom door and hide beneath the sheets, wishing there was someone else to swoop in and take over for awhile. When Hubby is here, he tries but when he is not, I'm alone. And that doesn't sit well with me lately either.

For seven years all I tried to do was be the best mama ever. I wanted to make sure I was attentive and kind, patient and loving and affectionate. I wanted to be able to discipline without screaming and spanking and I wanted to play with my kids until they got tired. I wanted to spend a lot of time with them baking and coloring and running through the house. The other little things.

For awhile, I was so good at that. But not right away. When my first daughter was born, I had a really hard time letting go of my selfish tendencies. I was 22 and newly married and had no idea how to sit still and be content staring at my baby on the floor, coaxing her to crawl to me, or waiting for her to finish eating a jar of peas. I grew into the patience, more-so with each child and I found by my fourth child I was pretty darn good at it. Of course, I had my days. Don't we all? But I found myself unfolding layers of me I didn't know existed and opening myself up more and more to make room for my babies' lives to not just tiptoe through but boldly step. To create a mark so deep as they crawled and ran and leaped across my heart, making me stretch myself and learn ways to be more giving and caring.

But right now I'm in a funk. And I try to let those little things, the ones that bother me so much be drowned out by the other little things which I have loved to do for so long. It's hard. It's hard to dig up the energy when I didn't sleep all night. It's hard to come out from inside my mind to answer a question that was asked of me 50 times which I did not hear. I want to get back to the time I loved these little things, loved the constant stimulation, the responsibility, the dependence on me. The time I loved spending time with my babies, content in their presence however exuberant, basking in the joy we gave each other, and living in each little moment because it was what we had. We had each other. And the little things. And that was enough.

Restless

2011-01-05T11:53:00.006-05:00

I am in a state of despair. I'm not quite sure how I got here but here I am anyway. It's too familiar.

I wake up in the mornings not wanting to get out of bed. I feel like I don't sleep all night. I drag myself out of bed because I have 4 kids and a puppy to take care of. I survive my days.

Survive. Not live.

What does that look like?

It looks like often doing the bare minimum to keep the house from getting out of control with messiness. It means feeding my kids and often not really myself because I just don't care. It means crying. A lot. It means watching the hours tick by, waiting for the time when I can put everyone to bed and sit and drown in my thoughts, contemplating my situation.

I am frustrated with myself. It's not like I don't know God is here. I know He is. Somewhere. I think I just saw this dark tunnel and thought "oh, what's in there?" and before I knew it, I was trapped. The thick darkness drew me in, grabbing me with tendrils creeping out behind me, pulling me in with a familiar feeling masking itself as nostalgia or some other comforting thing.

I can't believe I fell for it.

And through the darkness, I pray to God to help me find my way through, to strengthen me and protect me as I wander around in this dark place trying to figure out what I can take away from it. What can I throw in my bag of collected lessons and pains I've endured and everything else that has made me who I am? What can I give to Him to show Him I have faith? That I believe. That I will need Him for the rest of my life whether I'm in despair or not?

I look around through the darkness, gathering items for my collection. Trying to create something from them that I know I can be proud of; something I know He wants me to make from all of this. I stare at the vast expanse of black before me, sensing I am not alone but knowing there is much more in here than me and God. It's a difficult task to decipher the good and bad in the dark. I have to rely on my faith to find the light..... And on my strength which only comes from the One who loves me and will guide me through the darkness.

I am scared.

I have no idea when the darkness will end. It seems I've been in and out of it my whole life. I run ahead of it sometimes, thinking I'm far enough away but then it finds me; in the distance it is there somehow, waiting for me.

I am restless.

I work so hard to create what I can from my collection. I try so hard to do what I think I'm supposed to do. But sometimes it does not help me get out of this darkness any faster. And sometimes I can do nothing but sit and wait for Him to guide me. There is so much I want to do but sometimes, I just have to rely on Him to do it for me. There is so much that I think I need but I can't seem to understand, or rather I often forget, that He is the only thing I need. I often put my sights on other things- more immediate things- to fill this void I feel growing each day, to envelope the despair as it has enveloped me and destroy it as it has destroyed me at times. But they will always fall short.

What are these things?

They are my husband, my children, my family, my friends. My dreams and my wants. My past mistakes, my future plans. The pain I've endured and the joy I've felt.

They are my collection.

And I realize that I am in this darkness because I enter into it to find my collection after having dumped it out to give to God to do what He wants with it. I have left it to Him and in His control through my trust and faith in Him. But in my weakness and in my moments of doubt, I am frantic, trying to collect it again to do what I want with it; to get what I need out of it; to make it what I want it to be for myself.

The one thing I would like to find as I wander around in this darkness is the strength to dump my collection out one final time and give it to God completely, without taking it back. To let Him use it for His purposes in my life and to let Him be the only thing I look to for fulfillment of all my needs and desires.

Until then, I will just be restless.

"My heart is restless, O God, until it rests in Thee." ~St. Augustine

Little Star - A Book Review

2010-12-10T19:14:00.000-05:00

I received a copy of Little Star by Anthony DeStefano in the mail and happily agreed to do a review. My kids really enjoyed this creative and colorful book about a small star with a very big role - to warm the baby Jesus on the night of His birth. The book opens with a little boy asking his father which one is the star from that miraculous night. The father lovingly tells the tale of how the brave Little Star burned out long ago, giving himself in Love. Little Star was a haggard star, the smallest one in the sky, and all the other stars made fun of him. When they got the news that a King was to be born, all the stars in the sky excitedly got ready for the big night. They each wanted to shine their biggest and brightest. But as soon as they learned that Jesus was to be born as a poor baby in a lowly stable and not in the way they thought a King should come, they all lost interest - all of them except Little Star. Little Star was the only one who got the message of Love which Jesus came to share with the world- a message that was made even more significant by the humble way He entered the world. So Little Star mustered up all his might and shined the brightest he had ever shown, to make sure the baby Jesus kept warm all through the night.

Mr. DeStefano's portrayal of the legend of the fictional Little Star, and how he lives on in the hearts of all of us, is sure to delight even the oldest readers! It is a simple telling of one of the most beautiful messages - that Jesus came to give us Love, and the correlation between the star atop our Christmas trees and this little hero tickles the imagination of adults and children alike. Truly a wonderful addition to the classics we read our children! Every year, during Advent, we read one story each night leading up to Christmas. Sometimes we wrap the books and let the fun ensue as the kids excitedly choose a book and unwrap the surprise title. But sometimes we leave them in a stack near the tree and let the kids choose. This year, Little Star is already a favorite, sometimes being picked several times in the same week from the stack.

I highly recommend this book to all of you! It is a beautifully-illustrated, simply-written book of a deep and heart-warming nature. Much thanks to Mr. DeStefano for giving me the chance to share it with you all!

Losing a Baby

2010-12-02T12:42:00.012-05:00

When my son was born, my midwife made an interesting discovery: he should have had a twin. The evidence- from the two chambers in my placenta to the two-weeks of extra gestational time- pointed to that idea and I knew somewhere in my heart that it was right. Even though at the time it actually happened I was unaware of what was going on (and thought it was my monthly visitor), the fact that I had indeed miscarried clung to me. It didn't hurt too badly because I had a newborn baby boy to care for, one who needed my attention in so many ways, who unknowingly soothed the ache I felt inside every time I thought about the fact that there should've been another one. It still hurt but I moved on a lot easier than I would have if I had known from the start. His presence in my life has been bittersweet.

We found out two weeks ago that I am pregnant with what technically is our sixth child; a huge surprise but also a joyous one. We waited to tell my family until we saw them on Thanksgiving. I made a shirt for my youngest to wear that said "Big Sister 2011" with stick figures of all the kids and a baby carriage, and we made a game of seeing who would notice it first. Everyone was so happy, and despite my misgivings and anxiety over another child to care for so soon, I truly was a happy mama.

New life inside me always brings so much with it. There's always a slight fear- how will I stretch myself even more to meet the emotional, mental and physical needs of one more child? And the worry- how will we pay for this birth? But canceling out those feelings of weakness and vulnerability are the ones that say babies are a blessing, no matter the circumstance. One more baby I have allowed the Lord to bless me with is one more soul I am in charge of to raise for His purposes, one more child who will teach me about love. This child is a gift.

But as I sit here writing this I am experiencing the end of a miscarriage that began the day after Thanksgiving. I am still in shock and still grieving. It hasn't yet been a week. This one is different in that I am aware of it, I'm experiencing it knowing full well exactly what's going on and that this baby no longer is living inside of me. I'm trying so hard to process it and yet I find myself unable to grasp the right reasoning, the right statement, the one that fits exactly what I need to ease this pain, to sooth the ache I feel inside every time I think about the fact that there should be another baby.

It's so difficult.

My sister in law recently shared a sentiment with me about her set of twins which she miscarried early in her marriage to my brother. It was in reference to a baby-feet tattoo she got in memory of them, with a purple rose in memory of my grandmother (her favorite color was purple). She believes my grandma is up in heaven bouncing those babies on her knee. My grandmother was not very lucid or healthy when we grandchildren started having our babies so she never really got a chance to enjoy her great grandchildren before she died. I'd like to think as well that maybe my babies who I have lost are being bounced on their great-grandmother's knee as they sit in God's amazing presence experiencing a love I could have never come close to giving them.

A friend sent me a prayer that Mother Angelica wrote for women who have miscarriages. I think it could actually be used for anyone who has lost a child in any stage of life, and it is an encouraging set of words. It does give me some peace as I go through this experience, as I have been telling myself since the first positive pregnancy test I ever had that babies are here for God's purposes; they are His children, not mine. It does not matter at what stage of their life He decides to take them home to Him. I may never see the reasoning for this baby's short life, a tiny soul hidden in the secret darkness of my womb only for a few short weeks. I do know that his existence already began to stretch me in ways I wasn't sure it could, and maybe that was the only thing he was created for...to help me to remember that there's always room for more love to be shared.

Sisters and Brothers

2010-10-12T04:51:00.003-04:00

As God's children, we are all considered sisters and brothers of His son Jesus Christ. How cool is that? I mean, I guess I never really thought of it in serious terms, but rather abstractly. In the back of my mind I knew that I could decipher our relation to Him that way...but in my daily dealings with life, I hadn't really thought "wow, I'm actually related to Jesus Christ!" And, when I think about the sacrifice He made for me, you, all of his sisters and brothers, I think how amazing that is for my brother to give up His life for little ol' me.

I think about the two brothers I have and I remember from growing up that one of them always tried to beat me up and the other one always tried to steal my stuff, much like Swiper the Fox. Only unlike Dora, I didn't say "James no swiping! Jaames NO swiping! James NO swipiiiinnng!" and assume it would work. Forget that; I went straight for the big guns and busted his lip with a sand bucket to the face! Ah, memories! Back then I never would have dreamed that they'd be the friends they are to me now. Would they give their life for me? I have no idea but I at least have a good relationship with them. With one, I share a special bond along with his wife as we have children who are all around the same age, and we have somehow traded our fist fights and sleeper holds for hugs and prayers especially when encouragement is needed. The other one I like to tease and poke fun with, share my writing with and ask computer advice from. With both of them I share a unique sense of camaraderie when it comes to our faith, as we are all consistently aware that our brother Jesus has given His life for us.

Right now, one of my brothers is having a really tough time and I have to surrender myself and my feelings to keep from getting angry at God about it and ask why he's struggling so much when I know he loves the Lord and wants to serve Him. Stopping myself usually consists of praying because I don't know what else to do. Satan really has a hold on him and I guess if I'm being honest, I am mad at Satan and I want to beat the crap out of him and tell him to pick on someone else for awhile. (This is MY brother, only I am allowed to beat him up!) My brother's spirit is weak and he cries out for answers that don't seem to come and I just want to wrap him in my arms, but instead of squeezing him to harm him, I want to squeeze him to love him, to help him feel God's perfect love flowing through me straight into his heart to rejuvenate him and refuel his hope.

What I've realized is that because of the privilege of being God's children and in turn Jesus' siblings, we have a long road to travel to reach the kingdom we are meant to inherit, the kingdom Jesus gave His life for us to have. Just like in any really good story, our travels will include battles with demons, stumbling blocks and wasted time. But it will also include making friends and weeding out enemies using our morals and logic as our guide, uncovering hidden treasures we can use on our journey like love and hope and strength, discovering parts of ourselves we didn't know existed, and most importantly, finding opportunities to help others along the way. As we are all sisters and brothers who are all on the same journey, it is imperative that we fight- and in a sense die to ourselves- for each other so that we can help each other reach the common destination. In a sense, we need to be like our brother Jesus and give our lives for our sisters and brothers so that they too can experience the love of God and the richness of His mercy.

It's a hard lesson to learn that we are sometimes called to suffer and to surrender in order to find peace in the arms of our Father. We fight through life and we steal so much garbage from ourselves and each other in order to get the bigger picture- a future of love and mercy and peace.

My twin brothers, Billy and James at a young age: they are 3 years older than me.

The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, provided we suffer with him so that we may be glorified with him. I consider that the sufferings of this present time are nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us. ~Romans 8:16-17

Heartbroken

2010-10-04T22:00:00.009-04:00

My heart is breaking. Again. I don't know how much more I can take. I watch my husband flinch at the slightest mention of his family. I see the words form on his lips, hear them drop into the air with such weight and motion, falling and bouncing back to slap him in the face. I see his heart- the wounds still open and raw, still being formed, still bleeding with intensity. And he smiles at me, tries to cover it up, tries to take back the words he just said. Doesn't want to admit he hurts more than I do.

I recently did a post about family and how important unconditional love is, even if there is only one side offering it. I have been thinking about the matter that makes up such a statement; the importance it carries, what living it really entails. As I stated, I know that sometimes the only way to love someone is by praying for them.... and how often I failed at that. And I still do. When disappointment after disappointment and hurt after hurt flowed through our lives and shattered our spirit, praying was often the last thing on our minds. Especially for my husband.

It's hard to do the right thing. It's hard not to let the hurt build walls, harden your heart, make you want to turn away. Especially when someone you love is hurting and there's not a damn thing you can do about it. I ache at the thought that things will never be any different. That we will be on this terrible ride for the rest of our lives, making stops to show our smiles glazed on our faces like porcelain dolls, nods and stiff hugs just as a formality. Never knowing how anyone really feels. Then jolting back into our seats, flying through the winding roads, waiting for the next stop that does not bring rest but only more pain.

Time does not always heal. And to be honest, I'm not sure I am okay with that. God gives us families for a reason. I fail to see much more than a glimmer of what I think is the reason my husband was given the one he was. I know free will plays a huge role in their failure. And I am trying to hold on to that glimmer, the one that says he was given this family and I became a part of it so that we could love them. We have to love them because they don't know what love is. We have to pray for them because they don't know the fullness of God. They don't even have an inkling of their calling as His children. They are broken, just like the rest of us. But just like the rest of us, they have a purpose and a worth.

So I dig. Very deep. I dig deep and I try to pull out the one speck of strength I have to muscle through this with my husband, offering my love and support and encouragement. I have tried many times to convince him to try to make amends; that maybe this time around things will be different. But I have to admit that sometimes, self-preservation is the only thing left to mix in the pot with loving them from afar and praying for them.

He hides in armadillo's armor, building his walls, burying his pain. I pray for the perfect breath of Christ to consume him; heal him. I pray that one day this ride will end and either there will be real smiles and hearty hugs, or even through the formality, a warm peace that can only come with handing over pain and disappointment to the only One who can relinquish it.

I love you, Joe. I always will.

Props to the Fresh Air Fund

2010-09-24T15:38:00.006-04:00

I don't know how I keep getting contacted lately to do reviews and mentions of different things but I have been loving it! Recently, Sara from The Fresh Air Fund contacted me to ask if I would please make mention on my blog of a very worthy cause. I told her sure even though all of about 5 people read it! (Okay, I see that I have 16 followers and I know from SiteMeter that I get others passing through on their way to finding more exciting information such as how to keep your children from saying embarrassing things in public or which bra for a nursing mama is best......but..) ;-)

Anyway, I naturally wanted to do a little research about this cause before I wrote anything about it. So I went straight to the source. First, a little background: The Fresh Air Fund is a not-for-profit agency which provides fully-funded opportunities for inner city kids from New York to spend time in the country. The program has host families in 13 states as well as Canada, and also Fund Camps in upstate NY. These families and camps provide the children with the opportunity to experience the country atmosphere, which is a huge contrast to their smoggy city living where blacktops and alleys serve as backyards, and leaving basketballs and toys outside is not an option at all if you don't want them to get stolen. According to their site The Fresh Air Fund has helped 1.7 million children since its founding in 1877.

This program is especially important because these children would not otherwise have the opportunity to experience a few weeks - or even a whole summer - where they can breathe in fresh air, play in fields, splash in streams and experience the sights and sounds of uninhibited nature, as they soak up life outside of the city like thirsty sponges in the sun. These children are from disadvantaged communities and some may not even know that there is life outside of the city before taking part in this program.

Funds are primarily donated from private sources, but there are fundraisers always taking place. The next fund-raising event is on November 7. It is a marathon and The Fresh Air Fund is in need of both racers and sponsors to raise funds for these children. Click here for more information on how you can be a part of this awesome event! The program would not be possible without participants and sponsors dedicating themselves to it.

I'd like to add that I think that this program, which I only found out about recently, is a perfect showcase of God's love and grace through the open and willing hearts of the host families and camps. This is one of many ways to be His servant and we are called to serve those in need. Children are definitely in the category of needy people, whether their home is a farmhouse in the country or a small apartment in the Bronx. And from the stories I have read from both sides of participants in this program, it seems the inner city kids aren't the only ones who are getting something out of it.

Why God Matters - A Book Review

2010-09-23T21:21:00.006-04:00

Recently I was solicited by the owner of Tribute Books to write a book review on a newly-pub'd book entitled Why God Matters - How to Recognize Him in Daily Life. This book is co-authored by a father/daughter team: Karina Lumbert Fabian and Deacon Steven Lumbert. Why God Matters is a book geared toward Catholics, and its purpose is to help the reader to recognize Christ's presence in their lives.

The forward is written by William T. Ditewig (Professor of Theology & Religious Studies at Saint Leo University in Saint Leo, Florida). It is in the forward that readers first catch a glimpse of the depth to which Karina and Deacon Steve encourage and challenge us to allow God to be present in our daily lives. Mr. Ditewig writes: "Grounding their reflections in the everyday lives of Christian disciples.....Karina and Deacon Steve suggest, echoing St. Patrick, to 'breathe with God's breath.' This breath, the Spirit of God, creates, inspires and sustains all believers, and it is through this breath of God that God's own Word- Christ- is proclaimed to the world. In other words, the very everyday life of Christians can be the most fundamental and effective form of evangelization itself."

There is much about this book that I enjoyed. The writers take personal life-happenings and apply them in a faith-based way to the instruction of a God-centered Catholic life. In this day in age, I think people really need to be approached in a very humble and personal way in order to allow them to see not only Christ in you, but to see their own need for Him through your offering. Through the small stories which are told in turns, both Karina and Deacon Steve relay humility, kindness and encouragement based on their personal struggles, achievements and lessons-learned.

I also enjoyed the "Life Lessons" and the excerpts from the Catechism which accompany each story. They are both uplifting and helpful as we apply them to our daily life. One of my favorite "Life Lessons" came from the chapter entitled "Love in a Pot of Rice" written by Karina. In this lesson, she writes: "God calls us to be the first teachers to our children in living a life of faith, hope and charity. How did your parents teach you this? How are you teaching your own children? Spend some time in reflection and prayer today......."

It is great to come across a book written by two people who are in the same family yet have come to the Catholic faith in two very different ways. It is interesting and inspiring because even though their journeys have been different and their experiences all their own, their stories collide into a refreshing and simple depiction of what it is to be Catholic and live out the faith in every day life.

Why God Matters is a very easy-to-read book. The layout of short chapters alternating between Karina's stories and Deacon Steve's make it one you can read in between laundry loads or while picking up toys! Their stories are uplifting and the quotes from the bible coupled with the excerpts from the Catechism and the Life Lessons make it an even stronger work of encouragement, inspiration and hope.

Why God Matters can be purchased here.

A Case for NFP

2010-09-14T22:11:00.005-04:00

NFP:Natural Family Planning. No, it's not the rhythm method, and yes, it does work. The more I openly talk about it, the more questions and- most alarmingly- sneers and negativity I get about it. But there is so much about natural family planning that people don't understand, and there is a depth to it that some might not ever understand only because they don't want to try. The truth about NFP has yet to be studied or even accepted by a lot of Christians and that is something I don't understand.

My initial interest in NFP came when I was pregnant with my second child just 8 short months after having my first one. Fairly-newly married to a man I had a hard time loving, resolving myself to live the life I had chosen, and trying to grow up enough to accept my adult decisions, I was searching for a plan to attach myself to the small measure of sanity I had so that I could find my footing secure. Having a few babies so quickly was not really in my plans but sometimes God works with whatever He can and often even outside of the perimeters we like to set for Him; and this makes me feel somewhat alarmed and also somewhat comforted.

Needless to say, my search was not serious enough because I didn't think about NFP again until I was already pregnant with my fourth child. THIS would be the time, I told myself. After having 4 babies in 5 years, I definitely needed a break. I would never resign myself to thinking "I'm done," as I just don't desire that much (or any) control of my life to be taken away from God. But a break was certainly in order. I needed to figure out how to be a good- no great- mother to the children I already had, concentrate on really growing and working on the still-wavering relationship I had with my husband, and allow my body to rest and heal before jumping back into the art of procreation. Yes, I said art.

In studying and practicing NFP, I have come across so many wonderful and beautiful things about it; things I hadn't really thought of before. I mean, to be honest, I wanted to stall having babies for awhile without using any artificial means and without cutting God out of the equation. That was pretty much it. But to study this natural way of family planning and truly understand its depth and the foundation for its practice was like being told of a not-so-secret way to bring myself into further obedience to God's natural design for life, all the while building a bond with my husband I never knew could exist.

The first point I want to talk about, which is probably the one with the most skepticism attached to it, is that yes, NFP does actually work. It consists of carefully charting your cycles which requires taking your temperature every morning at the same time and recording signs of fertility which you learn about by reading a book on it. It really isn't that difficult and it only takes a little bit of extra effort each day. I figure if I can do it even though I have 4 young children to care for, a husband to love, a business to run, a house to clean, food to prepare and a part-time job to work, pretty much anyone can find the time to do it. Your body was designed to have certain parts of the month in which it's fertile and certain parts in which it's not. There are tell-tale signs to help you decipher these specific times of the month, as was God's design, and if you do that, you can practice NFP.

The second point, which is the one with most curiosity attached to it, is that no, my husband is not "poor." People always say "poor Joe," or they ask "how is your husband handling that?" Well, in reality, and sorry if this is TMI, but we are more intimate now that we're doing NFP than we were when we weren't doing it. I didn't stutter; I did say more. One of the best things that has come out of practicing NFP is that I am more willing to be ready for -and desirous of- sexual intimacy with him when I know there is only a specific time-frame in which we can. And before you start rolling your eyes about this, let's be real here.... you know that I know that you sometimes think it's a chore and that "not tonight honey, I have a headache" (or something equivalent) has come out of your mouth at least once (if not more) in your marriage. There are studies about this, I'm sure. Most women are just tired. Especially if they are stay-at-home-moms with four small children underfoot.

Piggy-backing off this thought comes my destruction of the idea that you are supposedly harming your husband by "rejecting" him and not letting him have "it" when he wants it. I can't even begin to count the number of times I have heard this. And to be honest, I think it is totally ridiculous. First of all, NO ONE should have ANYTHING whenever they want it just because they want it. I feel like this falls under the category of Bad Ideas, right under giving your children whatever they want when they want it. Men need to learn self-control, self-respect, respect for their wives, and patience just as much as the next whiny person. NFP helps us to remember that sexuality is about much more than personal satisfaction. Husbands should be completely involved in the NFP process, not just ready and waiting when it's time to get busy (and acting like a baby until then). They should be getting busy the entire month - that is, busy SUPPORTING their wives in the effort to reach their common goal. Some husbands get completely involved and help the wife remember to take her temperature and record her observances of fertility, etc. Some are involved by being respectful of their shared effort, loving their wives despite the agonizing waiting period they endure. Agonizing I'm sure.

This third point is probably the most important one. My experience with the gift of NFP is that it brings about a respect for not only my own body, but that of my spouse's, and of the relationship we share; and most importantly God's design for human life. Going about using artificial means to control whether or not I have a baby totally negates this respect. I would basically be taking something God Himself designed and saying "it's not good enough for me." NFP allows for each of us to give ourselves - as we are at that particular moment - fully and completely to each other. The relationship between a husband and wife who are in mutual agreement about the use of NFP is so unique and amazing. We are basically striving for the closest and most unifying way to love each other faithfully, selflessly and completely. Using artificial birth control takes out the factor of being fully and completely giving of oneself. The act of sex was created by God to bring about new life. But He did not plan for every single act to create new life, which is obvious in His design of a woman's fertility cycle. NFP truly is a collaborative effort between the married couple AND God. If you delete Him from the equation, you are losing a very vital part of achieving a God-centered marriage.

There is such a bond that has formed in the small amount of time that we have been practicing NFP. I can't even describe it. There is a higher level of mutual respect that has resulted; as well as an intimacy that transcends the boundaries of the actual act of sex. Is it sometimes difficult? Of course it is; and not just for my husband. What's really great about it is that it causes us to communicate more. I could only imagine how little communication goes on each month or even daily between a couple who is using some form of artificial birth control, especially when it comes to procreation. After all, it's already taken care of so there is no need. With NFP, we communicate practically on a daily basis about our life, our future, our children, and when there will be more. We communicate on our feelings about waiting, our anxieties, our difficulties with the wait period before my time of infertility, etc. We re-examine our decision to practice NFP as a form of family planning every single month, and look forward to a time when we can use it as a means to achieve pregnancy (although I'm sure with my being Fertile Myrtle, it won't be too difficult.)

It's so much more than being given the secret to obedience to God's natural law of life. It's like winning the lottery but with a payout that will not only last the rest of our child-bearing years together, but will continue to grow in interest exponentially day after day, year after year. And to be living that truth on a daily basis is something I definitely desire.

As an after-thought, though I told myself this post would not be a total artificial birth control bashing....I just wanted to mention a few reasons I am against it totally apart from NFP:
As for chemical birth control including IUD's, etc, I feel it is a total lack of stewardship of the body God created for our souls to live in to poison ourselves with these sorts of devices. Not only that, but the environmental impact of the usage of birth control pills, and even just the manufacturing of all of that junk is so tremendously negative. You never really hear much about this from the talking heads of the "green movement" and I just don't get that.
Also, most birth control pills are abortifacient in nature. Why risk the possibility of the death of your unborn child by using these methods? There is a reason it's called birth control, not pregnancy achievement control.
And, another plug for NFP - it has NO negative effect on either your body or the earth...and definitely not your relationship with the One who created both.

Family

2010-09-05T21:36:00.002-04:00

What is family?

Growing up, I was taught by example that family consists of people who unconditionally love each other even if they are not necessarily blood-related. Family can consist of the traditional group of a mother, father and children, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. But it can also consist of people who are around so much that they've become a permanent fixture, giving and taking as every other member does, loving unconditionally and being loved unconditionally as well. As the children get older, that love can branch out to specific friends and boyfriends or girlfriends who have stuck around, then spouses and new children, siblings of these outsiders.

My parents' house was always buzzing with not only the seven children that were their children, but several friends who would come and stay for days or at least visit on a daily basis. My parents always joked that they had many more kids than seven. They always treated our friends as if they were their own children, as the case often was that these kids had no real home to call their own, or parents who cared enough to be distracted from their busy lives to notice their children and fulfill their needs. Though my dad was often one of those parents himself, there were times when he was around, times when he did take notice and payed attention to not only us but our friends as well. We also had several of my parents' friends who we considered part of the family. Oscar. Leo. Pat. Patty. Sherry. Mike. Trudy. Cristal. Rosemary. They were all in essence members of the family and became constant factors in the ever-changing tapestry of our childhood.

When I got married, I was so excited to carry on this tradition- welcoming others into my life as part of my family, not just in the sense of in-laws but on a deeper level; a real true connection. I wanted so badly to share the love I had been given and I wanted so badly to be given that same love in return. But I quickly learned that there are all types of families that are different than mine and the one I married into, while not awful, was not the type I was used to having. I realized through many tragically crushing events that I did not know how to exist in a family such as this and I found myself on my face a lot.

It took me quite some time (and one last crazy event) to really understand that all those times that I was on my face, I should've been praying. But I didn't. Not a lot. Sometimes I would but the hurt I felt and the consistent struggles I went through did not allow me to be mindful of the fact that I should have been reaching out to my Father on a constant basis, and showing this family the love I knew I had for them. And it took me a good portion of my healing process to realize that not only did I need to reach out for Him to truly heal me, but I needed to reach out to Him and pray that He would heal them as well.

After all, we don't necessarily have to have a close and perfect bond with others to give them unconditional love. There doesn't have to be a deep connection or friendship with them to love them despite how they make us feel. And we shouldn't base our love for them on how much or how little they love us. We don't even have to ever see them. But we should pray for them. And that is the ultimate act of love, especially when there is a treacherous ocean between us that seems impossible to cross. This has been such a hard lesson to learn- to come to an understanding that the equation that makes up a family can include all sorts of factors, but the one thing that remains constant is the end result. It always equals family, even if only one side factors in unconditional love.

Understanding God

2010-08-21T18:29:00.000-04:00

A few days ago a little boy who was just shy of turning 1 passed away from AT/RT cancer. His name was Declan Carmical and his battle was not only awe-inspiring but it was also a huge testament to the strength and abilities within every single person on this earth, young and old. I had the privilege of getting to know the story of this sweet baby through his family members who openly shared on Facebook the heartbreaking events that led to his passing. Every day there was something new to share- ups and downs, joy and sorrow. And the entire human experience not only touched my heart but changed my life. My heart goes out to Declan's parents Stan and Sherri, his twin brother Cole and 2 older brothers, Will and Brady, as well as the rest of his family. I can't imagine the hurt of such a loss and I am praying for their peace and strength.

Yesterday, I received a message from Declan's great aunt, Rosemary- a lovely woman who has been around my family since I was a little girl. Her existence in my life has been mostly through Facebook in the recent years but I can't think of my childhood, especially my Catholic upbringing, without her face gracing the images in my mind. I was a little surprised by the nature of her message to me, as it was a most painful cry for answers- answers I always expected someone like her to have. Now I was the one being solicited for these answers and I wasn't sure I had them. It humbled me to realize that no matter how old we are or how much experience we have, we are all children of God- children who sometimes falter in our faith, who sometimes weaken in our abilities to remain standing through life's most difficult trials.

I started typing a response through my tears, pleading to God to give me the right words, hoping that even one could touch her heart and pull her back to His gentle embrace. In my thoughts, I expressed the reality of human nature as I experienced it and as I believed it to be. I knew questioning such a tragic event is part of our humanity and I knew that our faith is tested in some of the most painful ways. But I also knew that we are not to understand these circumstances and events; we are only to trust that they are part of our journey for a reason, as a means to complete the bigger picture that He is creating for His kingdom. But sometimes this notion does not help. Sometimes it is just incapable of being the healing balm to our wounds that are often left open and raw for years.

In tragic times like this one, we ask God why these things happen; why an innocent child had to suffer so much only to lose his life and leave behind so many who loved him. We wonder, as this dear friend did, why God couldn't have allowed our loved one to heroically win the battle and go on to be a servant of the Lord, bringing others to the foot of His cross. But everything happens for the ultimate result of good, even if the means to get there aren't so good. Declan's life was one of greatness. Even as a helpless baby, he was a servant of God in the most amazing way and he may have very well brought others to the foot of the Lord's cross. I know his life deepened my faith, as I myself went through the process of questioning God's reasons and came out on the other side with a deeper understanding of how His love pours out onto His children through the lost lives of precious babies such as Declan.

Even when we feel weakened in our faith, it often steps in anyway, sometimes in unexpected ways, as our doubt takes a backseat in order for us to grieve and pick up the pieces of our shattered hearts and lives. Heaven is our home, and this earthly life is just a place to begin our process of being worthy of such a home. This world doesn't mean much compared to eternity; here is where all the pain and sadness live. Through the tragedy of his short existence, Declan lived as a reminder that our time here is short, our life is very fragile, and that all of us belong to God and are alive only for His purpose. In all honesty, I envy Declan, and every other soul I know who has gone before him to be with God. They are not experiencing any hurt, any anger, any pain. They are living their lives where they belong, rejoicing in God's holiness and soaking in more love from Him than we could possibly imagine here on earth. How awesome is that?! How great it must be up there, and how blessed we are to have those souls in heaven praying for us, on our side to help prepare us for the time when He will call us home as well.

No, sweet Rosemary, Declan's life was not in vain. In honor of Declan and all the babies I know of who have gone home to Jesus, I remember to look at my own children and thank God for the privilege of being their mother; and I am convicted to be a better parent, to fix my eyes on His purposes for my life and the lives of my children, blessed and humbled by how short our time in this world really is. We may not understand the way God works, why exactly He would create someone like Declan and then take him home so soon. But we have to trust that it is part of His perfect will and that Declan's short life had a purpose for the greater good. Rest in peace, Declan and please pray for us!

"Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight" ~Proverbs 3:5-6

Praying for the Crazies

2010-08-16T10:21:00.010-04:00

It must be me. I mean, it has to be. I either have a sign on my back, my forehead, somewhere where I can't see it...or there is this air about me, a scent (eau de crazy?), or maybe a mannerism. But whatever it is, I think it's safe to say that I am a magnet for crazy people. And people with drama...which, incidentally, can go hand-in-hand but does not always.

The not-quite-so-funny thing is, I have a soft spot for these people. And I'm not sure if it's a result of their draw to me or if it comes first...like the chicken...or is it the egg? Whatever. All I know is that I am not only a magnet for these people who don't really function completely on a normal level but I am often hurt by them as well. I'm kind of sick of it, actually.

But then I am reminded of something I have had a slight inkling of my entire life. A really wonderful lady in my life said just the other day that God probably sends these types of people to me (and some of my family members, as the attracting of weirdos seems to run in my family) to get the gentle acceptance they need. Wow. Really? Okay, I digress. I am being used. Apparently. Lets just hope it is only by God. I don't like being a puppet on a string unless I know Whose hands are holding the other end.

Not so long ago, I was a crazy person...with lots of drama. I didn't have someone in my life that wanted to give me gentle acceptance and point me in the right direction to a sane and normal life centered in God and His plans for me. I mean, I had my family but there was only so much they could do. There was no random person I seemed drawn to, even if I wasn't sure for what purpose. There was only me, a crazy person flying around the atmosphere buzzing in and out of other's lives, smacking into glass walls sometimes, searching for even just a sweet morsel of an answer to my life's questions....a meaning to my existence, a purpose for why I'm here. And there were people I used to get what I wanted. And there were people I'm sure I hurt.

So here I am, years later, on the flip side. There have been people who have used me, some even just recently. There have been people who have hurt me, some who continue to do so. And the only thing I can think to do is pray. I pray for them because they obviously need it. I know a lot about where they are. And I pray for myself because I need it. I need the strength and wisdom to deal with these people with grace and love. I need the right words breathed into my ears by the only One who knows what they are, as well as the correct force and direction to help them get from my ears to my mouth unadulterated. If I am being used, I want to be used correctly. Otherwise, I might go crazy..... again.

Desiring God's Plan

2010-07-16T10:17:00.002-04:00

Growing up, it was my heart's desire to one day own horses. Horses were my favorite animal and I can remember there being times when I could think of nothing else. I read stories about horses, I wrote stories about horses. I relished every movie I could watch about them. And not only did I dream of owning horses, I dreamed of living on a lot of land. We lived in an area that still had some farmland around it but by the time I was in highschool, most of it had been developed. Drives in the "country," became a thing of the past, as the developed land gave way to mostly wooded areas toward the mountains that surrounded us and the lush rolling hills of early childhood and before had all but disappeared.

When we moved to Dillsburg, it seemed like a good place to chase after my childhood dream. There is a lot of undeveloped land here and while the area is slowly being developed and growing into the 21st century (finally!), there are so many opportunities to glean my desires that have been growing in my heart for so long. Much of the surrounding towns in our area aren't even as developed as our town and there seems to be a genuine interest in preserving a lot of it, despite the development. What's funny, though, is that over the years, my heart's desire sort of became a little bit dull, and not so important to me. I don't know if it was the weight of the fear that I would never have what I wanted that led me to push it to the back recesses of my mind, tucked away and hidden in a corner of things never to be, or if it was just that my crazy life sort of took away everything I thought possible for my future, robbing me of my desire to even dream at all for awhile. But I remember there being a time where I grew to like that I was close to neighbors, as I was afraid of the world when the sun went down, and I didn't mind living with no land to explore because I was too afraid of what I'd find.

But my dreams were still growing without my knowledge and since we moved here, since we had children, since we started building a life and a business, planning for our future in each aspect of our lives, I have come back to this dream. I have opened it up to grow and stretch into all areas of my mind and heart, daring myself to ever believe again that it would not be fulfilled. A few details of the dream have changed a little but the important thing is that I have come to hope again.

My husband and I have been really anxious about wanting to move and expand our business- find our place in God's design, and it has caused us to be a little bit impatient. We'd like to move, and soon. But we might not be ready yet in God's eyes. He might see something we're completely oblivious to that needs to be taken care of before we are fit for His gifts and blessings. And I've come to accept that God's desire for my life is what's most important. My desire has taken on a new path, one that hopes for what He wants for me, and though I pray that it is that we have land and a unique house big enough for our family to grow and love and learn in, as well as a place to expand our business, I know that if it is not His plan, it will not happen. And I'm okay with that. And I'm even okay with never having a horse.

Ah, Summer Camp!

2010-07-01T14:24:00.008-04:00

A few months ago, hubby and I decided to send our little monsters to a two-day-a-week Christian summer camp starting late-June. Our three oldest would attend and I would get two mornings out of the week to spend in what I hoped would be quiet bliss! I would still have my baby but she naps most mornings and I was in heaven dreaming of the quiet and space I would have; my time spent writing, praying, maybe even napping, while I relaxed on the fringe of total spoil.

Don't get me wrong, I LOVE my children. I love their company and I even love their dependence on me, however insistent and "inconvenient" it might seem at times. After all, I am a mother. Their mother. And I love every minute of it, even the difficult ones. But I also love peace and standing still for a minute, and I love being in a thick silence in the mornings after I drop them off, something I haven't had the pleasure of drowning in for quite some time.

Also, hubby and I made the decision that we would try to spend some good quality time together on these mornings, unless he had a job or work he couldn't possibly get out of. His self-made schedule is very flexible and it allows for such pleasures as going out to breakfast with only a complacent baby to tend to, taking drives searching out land to dream about, having an entire conversation without being interrupted 50 million times....and the best part, being free to be who we are when we're not playing the role of parents with every aspect of our beings. We get to enjoy each other's company and revisit the aspects of our identities we kind of had to push to the back burners as we began our lives together as parents.

Not only that, but I get to miss my kids. And I do. Having them away from me, doing something I know will only enrich their childhood, is good for them but it's also good for me. When I am feeling suffocated by the weight of my role as a mother, my daily duties, my fears and struggles, my frequent inability to be patient and loving, it is hard to see their value and to see what their roles in my life mean. It is hard to really appreciate them as little human beings that will grow up to be servants of God. But a small break, even just two mornings a week, allows me the time to ponder all that I am as their mother (which I do; it's not just bon bons and bubble baths while they're gone!), and it allows me to focus on really cherishing every minute with them. It helps me to recharge a little, grow a little, and find the strength I will need to take on the next disaster which will inevitably happen the second they get in the car when I go to pick them up!

Training Up A Child

2010-06-11T15:11:00.009-04:00

Two years ago, I asked my husband if we could make a small area in our backyard into a little prayer garden. It was already closed off to some degree by 2 walls of trellises and wooden fencing, with a roof of trellis overhead. Since then, we’ve been developing it, trying to create a place of retreat in which I can unwind outdoors. My prayer garden has a bench where I can sit, on my own or with someone else, sheltered yet open. I can pray, read, write, all while listening to the soothing sounds of the water fountain on the deck just steps away or the waterfalls in the pond a few yards beyond that. On another trellis which we placed there last year to provide the front piece of privacy, grows purple Climatis, a transplant rescued from an obscure corner of our backyard where it was unable to be admired. I also have pink Knock-Out Roses, unique Day lilies, Astilbe and Hukera; as well as a few decorative stepping stones and garden décor.

My husband bought me a beautiful climbing honeysuckle plant to be placed in my garden near a newly-installed trellis. The purpose of this fourth trellis was another way to add a final degree of privacy, while offering the ability to still experience the sights and sounds of the rest of the yard if desired. This honeysuckle is such a nice compliment to all of my other plantings. Just the other day, the landscaper in my husband emerged to show me how to “train up,” the vine so it grows up, not out. He said that when I see that the small vines are starting to grow outward, gently pull them back toward the trellis and intertwine them with it, allowing for a proper anchor to help them in their climb. As a writer mama whose heart is rooted in what God wants for my children, I naturally and immediately thought of an analogy between training this honeysuckle and training my children.

How true is that we are supposed to be training our children to grow up, toward God, toward Heaven, instead of growing out into the world? How many times have I thought about this, prayed about this, or written about it on this blog? The purpose of children is to bring glory to God, not just by having them but also by raising them with hearts for him, teaching them about His love and directing their paths toward His will for their lives. I think parents represent that landscaper, or gardener, gently pulling the delicate vines of our children’s hearts so that they may anchor themselves by the proper means (solid family life, modest behavior, prayerful hearts, like-minded friends) to be able to grow upward toward Him. It is our duty, our calling, to do this and yet, we often forget and find ourselves trying to strong-arm straggling vines back to their anchors, and sadly, some of us might give up completely.

It doesn’t take much to coerce those happy little vines outward, let me tell you. Just this morning I walked out, having forgotten about last week’s landscape lesson (shhh, don’t tell hubby!), and found many growing wildly outward, reaching for other anchors – weak anchors, unbefitting of the needs of the vines, drawing them into the shadows of the dark corners of the garden. Such is the same for our precious children, only exponentially worse. Everywhere we look, there are many of these weak “anchors,” many means for our children to be pulled out into the darkness. We can’t even turn on the T.V. without being assaulted with commercials from companies whose message not-so-subtly implies some sort of sexual agenda alongside their attempts to get you to buy their products. And how many packs of children run rampant in our neighborhoods, well past dark, unaccompanied by any adult, parents unaware of where their children are at any given moment? And what are those children doing? God only knows....literally.

Proverbs 22:6 says “Train up a child in the way he should go, Even when he is old he will not depart from it.” If we do what we are supposed to do, as God’s servants raising His children, if we stick to His teaching about taking these vines of our children’s hearts and anchoring them in the proper way, we will be rewarded with beautiful children whose hearts are deeply anchored in the important things of life, growing strongly toward Him, and the knowledge that we succeeded in this aspect of serving and bringing glory to Him.

Fragile Life

2010-06-03T13:13:00.009-04:00

Life is very short. It can be gone in an instant, a single flicker of a butterfly's wing - swept away in a moment we probably didn't even see coming. In the whirlwind of our daily lives, we don't really ever have the chance to stop and think about the fragility of life. And maybe it's not that we don't have the chance; it's that we don't take that chance. In the secular world, people are always speaking about how life is too short, so have fun and live it up as best you can; take risks, do whatever you want. We are taught more and more that all that matters is the "here and now" and living "in the moment." But living in the moment isn't always a good thing; and just doing whatever you want regardless of the outcome is never a good thing.

For the past week, I've been contemplating how very fragile life is; something I don't do very often, but especially as a mother, should. I have witnessed several times throughout my life the paper-thin reality of existence, and I am in awe of how far out of our control it is. It's out of our control when and how we die - our time here in this world just part of the sweeping momentum of the bigger picture; stirred up one minute, gone the next. It is hard to grasp this idea, to really understand its weight and meaning; to define how it affects our lives. But the truth is, we have to try. We have to think about these things..... But think; don't worry. Worry is so easy for us mothers to do but that is where God's design for Faith is supposed to step in and sweep us up into its strong embrace, whisking us away to be placed in the lap of our Father. We are only to think about life's teetering and smallness in regards to how our thoughts will produce actions that are pleasing to Him and follow His will for us.

Some of these actions for mothers look like this:
*Raising our children with not only the knowledge of Him but the experience of His love poured over us like warm oil, releasing us from our burdens and strengthening us within
*Spending time with Him, listening to His breath, His plans for us; searching for His gentle reminders of where our place is in His grand design (and showing our children how to do the same)
*Teaching our children to always be aware of their thoughts and actions, that they should be pleasing to Him in even the smallest of ways; and setting that example ourselves

I look into the faces of these beautiful blessings which God has given me to raise...and I see such an innocent wisdom, as if they know what my job is as their mother and are just waiting for me to fulfill it. I see my purpose buried deep within the irises of my daughters' eyes, daring me to become the strong, servant woman written about in Proverbs 31, modeling to them God's design for one who belongs to Him. I find my drive hidden in the expectant smile of my little boy, challenging me to teach him by example what it means to unconditionally love all who God places in our lives. I am often paralyzed within these moments of searching them this way, holding my breath because I'm afraid it's my last and I have so much more to do for them, and for Him.

Yes, life is fragile and so very short. But it's not about living out our days doing 1,000 things that make us happy or making sure we enjoy every single second. It's about taking this small amount of time to take in each breath we have to share with our families, our children, using every last millisecond preparing ourselves and each other for what God has called us to do for Him.

Serving Him, Serving Them, Serving Where I Am

2010-05-18T13:49:00.006-04:00

A fellow blogger had a wonderful post on her blog yesterday that really spoke to my heart. It was about serving where we are. As I read her post and then contemplated its meaning and significance in my life, I was convicted of its message. No matter what season we are in in our lives, how many children we have, or what our daily list of duties entails, we are to serve Him whenever and however we can.

I often have anxiety about doing what I feel God wants me to do as His servant. It's like I'm always running uphill in order to get to where I think He wants me to be. I feel bogged down by my daily life sometimes; chasing after four children, trying to keep some semblance of order and structure in our household, really dedicating my very being to loving my children unconditionally, and teaching and disciplining them in that love. I am often impatient, anxious, exhausted. I don't usually get relief from these feelings unless I make time to actually sit in the quiet with God and mediate on His love for me and the boundless grace He bestows upon me each day.

The thing is that in my relinquishing to Him the aspect of child-rearing, in my total commitment to raising these children to be His servants as well, in my complete devotion to loving them the way He designed love to be, and in my willingness to abide by His rules for our life as a family, I am serving Him. I find it difficult to remember this sometimes. When I desire to be writing for a bigger audience, possibly getting published, when I want to be helping other people, volunteering my time, and when I wish to be talking with friends who need to find Him in their lives, I lose sight of the idea that at this time, in this season in my life, I just need to trust that what I am doing at home is what is important and that if there is a "bigger picture" that needs to be addressed, He will bestow upon me the time, the space, the energy for me to do so.

But for now, serving Him where I am means serving my children and my husband: nursing my baby, making meals, cleaning my house, changing diapers, doing laundry, and maybe even writing on this blog when I get a chance. I need to be content in the notion that He has me where He wants me to be, no matter which moment of my life I am existing in.

Thanks, Judy for such wonderful insight to a topic I am in constant battle with!

Laying Hurt at His Feet

2010-05-12T21:16:00.005-04:00

You know you’re getting over something hurtful when the emotional vehicle driving your pain loses its steam and the desire to talk about it to anyone who will listen has dulled. I recently was victim of a hurtful event and at first, I was so much more devastated than I really was ready for. I hadn’t anticipated said event at all and the way it affected me was debilitating, at least for the first day. The second day, after I had talked with numerous people about it, I was left to continue to wallow in my sorrow. As I mulled over the whole thing in my mind, I felt a tiny bit of relief breaking through the surface but only for a moment. Still, I was weighed down by my sadness and my inability to truly process everything I felt about the situation and I went into the third day feeling sick to my stomach. I needed some relief and I was still grasping at straws, trying to figure out where it would come from.

It’s times like these that I really don’t know what to do with how I feel. Praying about it doesn’t always heal it, not immediately. I often try to sort through things on my own, picking up certain ideas or thoughts, sifting through their meaning and matter, wondering how I could allow them to continue to hurt me. Talking about things doesn’t always help either. In this case, I kept searching for the right person, the one who would make it all better, the one who would say the magic words to erase the loss that I felt, the utter despair I was feeling over my inability to just get over it. But there was no such person. Not one. Several expressed their sympathy, not knowing much else to say. Some gave me some insight on why a person would do such a thing. Some just sat and listened, letting me vent, and then took their leave. I am grateful to all of those people, for I know in their ways they have loved me while I deal with this. In their ways, they showed me that love by allowing me to move through the process at my own pace without making me feel like a child, or like I was being ridiculous, or that my feelings didn’t matter.

But they were not the magicians; they held no magic hat to pull the secret answer from. I sought to enlist as many ears as I could, not really digging for anything but the ability to give voice to how I feel, to have it heard and be validated.

And then I realized, in the quiet of my heart, in the secret thoughts I did not share, in the silence that rang loudly in my mind at times, He was there. He knew everything I felt and everything I thought before I could form the words on my lips. He knew my heart and He knew my hurt, and I had only to lay it all at His feet and allow Him to heal me from it. It wasn’t about praying. It was about trusting. It was about turning to Him knowing that I could collapse anywhere within His arms and He’d hold me as I faced my feelings and pieced them back together. He reminded me that I don’t always have to understand things in order to move on from them; I don’t always have to have reasoning to dictate my ability to heal. But I do always have Him to guide and sustain me.

Tonight, my emotional vehicle has lost much steam and I don’t feel like talking about it a lot anymore. I guess that means I am moving on. I still feel a lot of hurt. I already passed through the short period of anger and I am just contemplating where to go from here. It’s always a challenge to figure out whether there needs to be something said to someone who has hurt you (especially when they have no idea), or if you should just leave it alone. I am now facing that decision. But I know now, as I’ve always known but had just forgotten, that I have His hand to guide me and to hold me no matter what else happens.

Guiding My Childrens' Paths

2010-05-10T11:12:00.008-04:00

Yesterday marked my sixth Mother's Day. My first one was when I was newly-pregnant with my daughter, Angelina. I look back on the person that I was then, and I feel as though I've grown in so many ways, slowly but surely becoming the mother God wants me to be for my children. But I also see that I had no clue what motherhood would mean, what it looks like, how I could grasp in a tangible way what God's intention for it truly is. I had little knowledge that motherhood would mean more than just feeding, clothing, and sheltering these little babes. But as the years passed, I became more and more convicted of the depths I am to extend to, the difficult paths I am to travel, and the ways I am to spread and stretch in order to bring them up as not my children, but His.

As my children grow with each passing year, I am more aware of the fact that their time with me is short. It seems like only yesterday that I was chasing my oldest through our tiny condo in Maryland as she toddled away from me squealing with glee. Now she's almost 6 and I can't believe how time has flown. I look at these past 6 years and I wonder how many times I've thought about the person that Angelina will be, how I can lead her into God's hands, what I can do or say to help her grow up with a heart for the Lord and a passion for serving Him and others. While I feel like it is a lot, it probably isn't enough. In the busyness of life and the chaos that sometimes consumes my mind, I often forget that I am to be in constant prayer for her, and for all of my children, and that I am supposed to not just sit and watch them grow up, but help them grow up to be the type of person God wants them to be, the type at which today's world looks down and scoffs.

My job as their mother does go beyond making sure their basic needs are met. I am to teach my daughters how to respect themselves, how to be strong but not head-strong, to respect other girls and women, to be patient and kind, to be sensitive and loving. I am to also teach them how to relate to males the way God intended females to in each different stage of their life. I am to teach my son about all of these things and relating to females the way God intended males to, respecting them and cherishing their identities as daughters of a King.

If I had known how difficult the path of a mother truly is, I might have given up before I even became one. I don't think very many people actually contemplate what it means to be a mother, or father, until they're in the throes of parenting. Even if we have an inkling of our path, there is no complete understanding until we get there. And then some even choose a different path, the path that seems a lot easier, the path that still gets their children through to the other side but with not nearly enough understanding or training for life the way God intended it to be. With the world teaching all the things I know are wrong with bull-horns in the various forms of the media, it is horribly difficult to be heard. But starting now, when they are young, speaking quietly to their hearts, is where I lay the foundation for them to hear me, to hear God, above all that is shoved and spewed and screamed at them, drawing their attention in the opposite direction.

Life isn't about 'whatever happens, happens..' It is making our own futures, and the futures of our children, into what we want them to be, according to God's perfect will. I want to start out my seventh year of motherhood immersed in finding ways to rear my children how the Lord wants me to. That means taking them by the hand and leading them down that difficult path until the day comes when He's the one holding them.

Healthy Eating

2010-05-04T08:22:00.006-04:00

Ok, I admit it. I'm not the most healthy momma out there, especially lately. As I fly through the whirlwind of each day, I am definitely over-stressed and under-nourished. I sometimes forget breakfast, often don't eat lunch and then my dinners consist of wolfing down in 5 seconds flat whatever I made for the fam., as I balance a baby on my knee and jump to fulfill the myriad of requests my other 3 children and/or husband make. When the two extra girls I am currently caring for are here for dinner, I don't even sit down to eat until long after all the kids have eaten, but I'm still left feeling like I didn't taste one bite. As I write this, my microwave is beeping every minute to remind me that I have food in there - last night's dinner reheated. But I hesitate to get it. Not because it's disgusting - quite the contrary, it's delicious - but because what makes it delicious is not all that great for my already exhausted and out-of-shape body.

While I'm confessing here, let me add a sub-confession of the fact that I am a junk-food junkie. Or sugar addict, if you must give it that sort of label. I love sweet stuff and I love thick, stick-to-your-ribs food. My favorites are pasta, cheese, potatoes, bread...yeah, all the carbs. I do have to say, though, that when I can, I buy whole wheat pasta and I always eat whole wheat bread. However, give me a big heaping bowl of home-made macaroni and cheese made with elbow or mini bow-tie pasta and I'm a very happy camper. (Incidentally, that is what last night's dinner was, complete with small pieces of chicken and some spinach thrown in for at least the effect of healthy eating!)

I do have to say that I also very much LOVE fresh veggies and fruit, salads and all the good, really pure stuff. I actually prefer that over the much loved/much hated cheesy pasta potato dishes I often crave. And this is the part of me I try to pass on to my kids. Growing up, green beans were my favorite vegetable. Cooked or raw, it didn't matter, I'd eat 'em! Do my kids like green beans? Not really....yet. Aidan likes to peel them apart and eat the tiny peas out of them, leaving their pods crumpled and mushed in the middle of his plate. Angel eats one or two but only after she's promised dessert as a reward. Bella...well...forget Bella altogether right now. She doesn't seem to like much of anything, sporting a very picky 'no-I-won't-try-that-for-a-dollar' attitude, which I'm sure she gets from her father. We often have those "show Mommy how the piggies eat" scenes at the dinner table.

I think about the fact that I do not like giving my children much sugar, but being the sugar addict that I am, I will sit and eat chocolate right in front of them. Most of the time, it's like 70% cacao dark chocolate which has very little to no sugar in it.....but still. They don't know that. All they see is that Mommy is eating "candy" and they can't have any! So then I really have to wonder if my example is not a very good one. Okay, I don't wonder. I know. And to prove it, I think I am the way I am because I can remember my parents being the same way! Of course, they gave us tons of fruits and vegetables while growing up, that is how I acquired my love of green beans... But there was also always the never-ending supply of Doritos, that box of Cheez-Its or bag of Chips Ahoy....and nothing ever said (or taught by example) about moderation.

In their (and my) defense, however, I look at the way the world is today and the parenting techniques of most when it comes to the eating habits of their children and I see a lot worse. Just the other evening, I was at the grocery store and in the check-out line was a mom with her teen-aged daughter. Most of the food in their cart was pre-packaged, preservative-laden junk, soda and maybe a bag of carrots. Her daughter ran to get a box of some sort of crazy amped-up caffeine drink and her mom said "no," but with just a tiny bit of protest from her daughter, she bought it anyway. In front of her was another mother with a boy of about 10 or 12 and he was guzzling a Pepsi Max. (It was 8:00 on a Wednesday night. But maybe if they have that sort of crap every day, the sugar and caffeine don't bother them anymore.) By the way, both children, while not obscenely obese, were definitely over-weight.

In a world that teaches us little about self-control and a lot about doing whatever makes us happy, I'm quite concerned for my children. And that goes on so many levels but we'll stick with the food habits just for today. There has been an explosion of seemingly-positive opinions advertised about how one should look healthy, etc.. but these are often driven mostly by the agenda of sex appeal, not health. Why do I want my children to be privy to that sort of influence? The answer is, I don't. So it's up to me to be the one that teaches them about health and nutrition and being good stewards of our bodies. That means leading by example. I guess that means I need to make sure I eat every meal of the day and cut back on the fatty, carb-amped dishes and sweets. And I guess that also means last nights' dinner in the microwave might just sit there while I find a better-suited lunch to fuel my tired bod!

Heaven on Earth

2010-04-29T22:12:00.001-04:00

Heaven is in the face of my little boy, the innocent love in his clear blue eyes, the way he says "mommy, I love you in your heart." Heaven is in the face of my oldest child, her songs and laughter filling my heart with joy, her strong will humbling me at times. Heaven is in the face of my third-born babe, her brown eyes lighting with mischievous plans as she races down the hall, the way she hugs me tight when she knows that I am sad. And Heaven is in the face of my baby girl, her dependence on me to sustain her life, the smell of her skin imprinted in my mind. Each child I have, every time I say 'yes' to God, I am that much closer to understanding the beauty of Heaven. Every child is a gift and I am in awe of the glimpses of Heaven I receive each day just looking into their faces, getting lost in the wonder of Heaven on Earth. How can you tell me that I have too many children? Are you just jealous that you don't get to see Heaven as much as I do?

Broken Pottery

2010-04-27T12:54:00.002-04:00

For almost 6 years I've been immersed in the most difficult assignment I think God has ever given me. And I have examined it from every angle, dissected it at times, analyzed it and experimented with it....And yes, maybe even ignored it a time or two. To say that I was adequately prepared for this assignment, or even remotely conscious of what it would entail, would be an overstatement. At least, at first glance. When I was first given the knowledge of my assignment, I was a different person. Sort of dull and scuffed and broken in some places, I resembled a piece of old pottery that had been buried beneath some dirt, weighed down and damaged by the shifting earth.

It took a lot to even want to be pieced back together, a mottled past blinding me through the cracks and crevices it created in my heart. But I was given an assignment and I knew I had to obey. In total recognition of everything that I was, everything that I am, and everything that I aspired to be, I was not too confident in my abilities to complete the assignment at all, much less in the way I knew I was expected to. But I had to try, didn't I? I knew somewhere deep down that I would be given what I needed to not only complete the task but complete it well.. But could I search for these virtues, knowing the road would be trying at times, feeling like I was far from the perfect person to do this job?

Philippians 4:13 says "I can do all things through Christ Who strengthens me." But back then, I did not know Christ, not really. I knew of Him and had a slight understanding of the Love He had for me, but did not know what that Love looked like in my own life at that time, as the sinful person I was, as the broken and scarred soul which I knew He saw. I did not know that He wasn't done with me yet, and while I may have not been exactly ready, may have had some cracks here and there, a blemish or two and a dull facade, He was the Master after all, and I was clay in His hands.

First, He took the broken pieces of my life and shined them up like new. Then He put a mirror in front of me so that I could just glimpse the smallest idea of what He really saw in me. Then He told me He was going to crush me. And I was not afraid. I had already been buried under the weight of my life, fragments scattered around, dirty and shattered and waiting to be pieced back together. But He had a much different plan than the one I had imagined. He did crush me. And it felt amazing. After that, the pieces of my life He thought were too big, He made smaller. The ones that were too small, He made bigger. He shaped and refashioned me, molding me into His image of me, and then shined me up even brighter than before.

And then He stuck me in front of a mirror again. "I am still not done with you yet," He whispered "I still have much work to do, but this is a start." As I looked myself over in the mirror, I felt His breath warming within me, new air in my lungs and a fire in my heart. And as I traced the line of stretching skin around my belly, which would grow bigger with each passing month, I knew I would also grow bigger as He filled me with everything I needed to complete this assignment.

I don't remember exactly what day that was, when I decided to keep the baby growing within my womb. All I know is that was the day that my life really began.