The Better Part

The Price of Loving

2011-09-23T11:18:00.009-04:00

I've never handled mourning very well. You'd think I'd have learned given the opportunities I've had, beginning when I was 7 with the death of my father from a fire in his apartment. I remember my friend down the street, a couple of years older than me, reading to me on the phone the description of his charred and blackened body from the front page of the paper. "What does 'suffocate' mean?" I asked my mom. That day a friend of my mother drove me to the eye doctor where I was fitted for my first pair of glasses. I remember my mom discussing with her friend whether to cancel the appointment, but they decided that I should still go, to keep the day "as normal as possible." That evening, when it began to sink in that I would never see my father again, I became hysterical in my protestations. It was March 1 in Wisconsin where winter still had a firm grasp of the situation, snow and ice claiming victory over sorrow and loss. In desperation my mom phoned a doctor for medicine to quiet me and my uncle was sent to get it. Later as I still cried for my daddy, Uncle Eldon admonished me that I shouldn't cry as he'd nearly caught his "death of cold" for having gone out in the sub-freezing weather to fetch the tranquilizer. Now I had guilt inexplicably mixed with grief, and never mind that I didn't feel I could survive the pain. Somehow I did. The stoic German in me rose to the occasion, or maybe it was the actress, preserving the "normal" facade so prized in my family. For several years following, I would save my tears and cries until I was alone, until one day I could no longer remember my daddy's voice and I gave up the fantasy that he hadn't really died and would come back to me.

Fifteen years later, the day after Thanksgiving, cancer would steal my mother from this life. At least this time I knew death was coming. For that, I was advised to be grateful, and indeed, I tried to be. This time there were no policemen knocking at the door at 4 in the morning to announce death's invasion. I was "grown up" supposedly; certainly I had the responsibilities of an adult thrust upon me. I remember being incredulous when my aunt, my mother's sister, said I must plan to have everyone back to the house after the memorial service, to prepare food and drink for them, that they might reminisce and console one another. I did as I was told. I must be strong, I was told, and that meant not to cry, not to mourn. So instead of later in the day, it would be many months before the totality of my loss assaulted me, the agony of it overwhelming me long after my aunt and my brother had returned to their homes, to their normal routines. And this time worry intermingled with my tears, as I was pregnant and feared what such profound sorrow might do to my unborn child. Thanksgiving the following year I spent with my best friend from high school, at her parents' house, she with a new baby, and mine a month from arriving. Bittersweet. Such has Thanksgiving been ever since.

Today is the first day of Autumn, and the early morning announced itself with torrents of rain pounding my bedroom windowpanes and the light covers proving not quite warm enough for the chill. Two years ago today, dear Vivian Marie, my granddaughter, was born. And today I think I feel the pain even more acutely than I did then, for you see, she was born with anencephaly, with the top of her skull and brain missing. We knew that she was thus afflicted and we hurried to Texas to be with her and my son and daughter-in-law when she arrived. Our gratitude was abundant that she survived her birth, and that we were able to share her precious few hours of life, keeping vigil at the hospital. True to my bringing up, I kept strong as I held Vivian, and as I listened to her breathing slowly change to death's erratic rhythm, and witnessed the sword of sorrow pierce my son's and his wife's hearts when Vivian was gone. She was so beautiful, so perfect in spite of her "boo-boo" as my 3 year old grandson called his sister's wound. Back then I couldn't yield fully to the anguish as I had (for an evening) when I was 7; I'm not sure why. But today I am stalked by sorrow and sadness. I want Vivian back! I want to hold her and listen to her coos. I tell my kids that I need a nap and I cry and sob into my pillow in the privacy of my bedroom, and wonder once again if I can survive the loss, knowing that I will, and that this is the price of loving.

Flannery O'Connor & The School of the Holy Ghost

2011-01-05T19:33:00.009-05:00

For the last few months I've been on a Flannery O'Connor kick. Years ago my eldest son gave me her Complete Stories, but I never got very far with them. Then a friend mentioned enjoying O'Connor's letters even more than her stories, and I promptly got The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O'Connor from the library. I love that book, and I hope to own it someday so I can highlight all of my favorites of O'Connor's profound and pithy comments. O'Connor was born in 1925, two years after my now deceased mother, and there is a certain attitude I recognized in Flannery's letters which seemed reminiscent of my mother. Or maybe it is just that they were two Catholic women who grew up in the same time period, but whatever, I felt I closer to my mom reading O'Connor's correspondence. And my own mother was living in the Quad cities in Iowa when Flannery was some 50 miles away at the Writer's Workshop at the U of I in Iowa City. I wonder if their paths ever crossed?

Reading the author's commentary in The Habit of Being on several of her stories sent me back to the book from my son, and I read most of them with newfound understanding and appreciation. Then I picked up her novels, Wise Blood and The Violent Bear It Away. I thoroughly enjoyed the latter; Wise Blood will need another reading before I give my opinion.

But the reason for this blog post is the book I am now enjoying: Paul Elie's The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage published by Farrar, Straus and Giroux. From the inside cover of the jacket: It is the story of four American Catholics in the mid-twentieth century who, "working independently of one another, came to believe that the best way to explore the quandaries of religious faith was in writing...a vivid and enthralling account of great writers and their power over us." Who were these writers? Flannery O'Connor, Thomas Merton, Percy Walker, and Dorothy Day. I don't know what Flannery O'Connor would think of such a summation; Elie paints at times a different picture of O'Connor than the impression given in her letters. His is an intentional telling of the stories of these writers' lives whereas Flannery's letters were not necessarily written with a mind to a larger reading audience. Nevertheless, Elie is skillful in describing his subjects' parallel lives and drawing the reader's attention to their commonalities and differences.

Flannery carried on a correspondence with Walker Percy--which I will now want to re-read. Percy went to medical school and specialized in pathology before pursuing writing in earnest. He, like O'Connor, was from the South. Thomas Merton was quite taken with O'Connor's work and she was pleased that he "got it." It is Merton who is quoted on the front flap of the jacket of The Violent Bear It Away, likening her to Sophocles. In her letters, O'Connor makes only passing references to Dorothy Day, about whom one of Flannery's friends, Caroline Gordon, writes a biography. Day's name does not immediately call to mind "writer" as I associate her with social justice issues and have not read her books nor her articles, so Elie's portrayal is a revelation to me, in more ways than one. Merton, Percy, and Day are converts to Catholicism, while Flannery was "born Catholic."

I'm less than half-way through Paul Elie's book, yet I'm finding it fascinating enough to propel me back into the blogosphere to encourage others to read it, others who also recognize "the ways we look to great books and writers to help us make sense of our experience," and "the power of literature to change--to save--our lives." (from the front jacket flap)

Big Government Healthcare

2009-12-31T17:56:00.004-05:00

Laugh, and then weep...

Despite the fact that in 2010 we will pay double what we used to for private healthcare insurance that will provide far less than half the benefits we had in 2009, I still don't want the government to manage my healthcare!

Jesse Tree Garland

2009-11-30T10:47:00.007-05:00

It's not too late to add meaning to your Advent by making Jesse Tree ornaments! And nothing helps prepare us more for Christmas than reflecting on our salvation history!

The ornaments in the pictures were each made by a different mom or homeschool family. Each of them made 28 of one design and then they got together to swap them. Great idea, no?

Ron Paul Interview

2009-11-03T14:12:00.004-05:00

Check this out!
Ron Paul on H1N1, govt. run healthcare, and more.

H/T Mark Shea

I've Got Blogging on My Mind

2009-11-01T20:51:00.002-05:00

I just misread a book title as Blogger Stories for Little Folks instead of Bigger Stories....

My Granddaughter

2009-10-17T23:29:00.005-04:00

Last summer seems a lifetime ago!

In September, on the feast of St. Pio, my granddaughter, Vivian Marie, was born. When we realized that she was alive and was going to live, at least for a time, there was such joy in the crowded birthing suite! Two sets of grandparents, two aunts, an uncle, cousins, and dear friends celebrated her birth with her parents and brother. Prayers had been answered and the glory of God was visible.

You see, Vivian Marie had a condition called anencephaly, in which part of her brain and skull did not form. Her chances of surviving birth were a little less than 50:50. But survive she did, and we were graced with 15 hours of miraculous life. I don't think it's hyperbole to say that her 15 hours with us changed our lives. Her parents gave their fiat to God, and agreed to accept whatever time God would give them with little Vivian. What's more, they did so with love and a desire to honor her life, however short it might be. I could not help but think of our Blessed Mother as I watched my daughter-in-law labor for hours, knowing all too well that she would be giving the life of her daughter to God, much as Mary gave Jesus to the Father.

Vivian Marie is our little lamb, my son and daughter-in-law's, my husband's and mine, all of us who loved and love her still. Certainly we, and hundreds of people on prayer chains far and wide, were praying for a miracle, were praying for Vivian Marie to be born intact, whole, and healthy. God had other plans. We who love her suffer, and yet we are called to unite our sorrow with that of our Lord in His Passion. "Not my will, but Thine," said Jesus to His Father.

I pray that God will do wondrous things with our suffering, with my daughter-in-law's and son's acceptance of theirs and Vivian's cross. My mother used to tell me that God loves more those to whom He gives greater sufferings. (She probably learned that from St. Terese of the Child Jesus.) Experiencing Vivian Marie's birth, brief life, and death has shown me a reason why. It is because He is thereby allowing us a fuller participation in His Passion, and therefore in His Life. That is indeed a great gift.

I give thanks for Kyle and Genece and Jonathan. I marvel at their love that was incarnate in Vivian Marie and shown to all through their actions, as they carefully honored her life and cherish her memory. God gave the Virgin Mary (and all of us) the joy of the Resurrection. I cannot but hope that He will--even in this valley of tears--give Kyle, Genece, and Jonathan a resurrected joy, a healing of their brokenness, and a peace which surpasses all understanding.

A Manual Man

2009-07-12T20:55:00.006-04:00

That's who I'm married to-- a guy who knows how to troubleshoot, reads the manuals that make my eyes glaze over, and, solves problems! Woo-hoo!

The latest, or should I say "la test" began with my asking if the old (and I mean really old) surge protector that I found in the basement and used for my computer in our bedroom was still good, and how would we know. Krazyglue said he'd check it out. His first discovery: that the surge protector has a red and a green light, but only the red one was lit. So he looks for a brand name in order to research it online. I call out that it's probably by a company that no longer exists. Don't know why I was so pessimistic. He found the site and quickly found the explanation for the lights. If the green one doesn't light up, then that outlet has no functional ground and the surge protector is rendered useless.

Next, Krazyglue checks on the other outlets in the bedroom, and guess what? None of them seems to have a working ground. Yikes! A nearby lightning strike about 6 or 7 years ago fried the phone and answering machine that was in our bedroom. Was the damage from that strike? So being the systematic guy he is, Krazyglue begins checking out most of the rest of the outlets in the house. Green light comes on for all. All except those in our room.

Now we have a most peculiar design in our bedrooms. All the rooms come with a light switch by the door, but there are no overhead lights. Instead, the light switch operates the upper plug of the outlet nearest to the wall switch. Not the outlet across the room, so that you could plug a light in across the way and not have to stumble at night to turn it on. Noooo. No, the clods who did the electrical on our house put those little wall switches in I guess to save us from reaching 6 inches further to turn on a lamp plugged in adjacent to the wall switch.

Krazyglue decides to look first at the outlet where we had plugged in our zapped answering machine. It looked normal. Next he took out the wall switch that operates the upper half of that outlet. It did not have any neutral or ground, but he later determined that that was normal. He consulted a handyman friend who gave him some other things to check, as well as with his dad, an electrical engineer, who told him to look for an outlet that was wired in reverse. He pulled out more outlets in the bedroom. They were all fine. It was then that he noticed that the small dorm room fridge we have to keep insulin in was running. Wait a minute! All the outlets were supposedly on the same circuit! So he finds the breaker for that outlet, turns it off, and pulls that outlet out. Bingo! It was wired wrong. He corrected the problem, but really, would that fix the lack of grounding in the other outlets?

It did! Which is truly strange, seeing as it was on another circuit. Not only that, but our bedroom outlets were on the same circuit as outlets in other rooms, and all of those had functional grounds. Now our bedroom ones do, too. The computer is once again plugged into the old, old surge protector, and now the green light comes on. We're so glad that this problem was discovered--the lack of grounding in our bedroom outlets! And the credit for that goes to Krazyglue who immediately went to look for an online manual to learn about the surge protector.

Now we wonder, did we lose our phone and answering machine those many years ago because the ground in the outlet wasn't working? And why is that lone outlet in our room not on the same circuit as our other outlets, but instead shares a GFI (ground fault interrupter) with the bathroom, kitchen, and basement outlets? Very strange indeed! And how is it that the GFI has been working with that outlet being wired incorrectly? It's almost enough to make me want to study electrical wiring. Almost. Maybe I'll get Krazyglue another manual for Christmas.

The Humble Moms Club

2009-05-27T21:03:00.009-04:00

I've been telling Krazyglue that I'm tired. Beyond tired, really. First it was a week of testing for two of my kids that necessitated daily trips downtown. Then we went to the Midwest Fleadh in Detroit, where sessions last all night and into the morning. I was so looking forward to getting rest when Stand-up's diabetes showed its ugly side with high blood sugars and "No Delivery" pump alarms in the middle of the night, not once, but twice in one week! So is it any wonder...

That I found myself at the Vigil Mass last Saturday wearing these: mismatched shoes. I only noticed shortly after getting into the pew. After having walked in late, during the first reading. Into a church shaped in a semi-circle. Ahem. I immediately stuck one foot partially under the kneeler in hopes no one would notice my gaffe. I actually considered -- for a fleeting moment -- not going to Communion, so as to avoid my mis-clad feet being seen.

The worst part was when I pointed out my shoes to my dd, Little Miss whispered, "You did that yesterday [at morning Mass], too. That's why I was giving you that look." The eyebrows raised, grimacing, "What. Is. Up. With. You???" look. I don't know which was worse, that I was in a church with 1500 people with mis-matched shoes on, or that I'd been at Mass the day before, with only 100 or so, but that I'd socialized after Mass, including stopping off in the sacristy. And that I'd never ever noticed my faux pas!

It was humbling to say the least. I think I know how I did it, that is, how I put the wrong shoes on in the first place. But I'm not going to explain. I'm just going accept my place in the Humble Moms Club.

Did I tell you I was tired?

Divine Mercy Sunday

2009-04-18T21:26:00.003-04:00

I haven't posted in a very long time. Not for lack of desire, but for lack of time. And I know, if blogging were important enough, I'd do it, but it is something that I can let slide without serious consequences. So slide it does when the day-to-day stuff, like broken hands, the 10 day flu, or car accidents happen. That sums up my winter quite nicely.

Oh, and then I joined Facebook. It's addicting. The best thing about Facebook is reconnecting with old friends, or connecting for the first time with my brothers- and sisters-in-law. But it is definitely a time-eater.

In this Easter Season we hear Mass readings from the book of Acts. Acts. Once Jesus died, the apostles were ready to go back to their old lives, but Jesus called them to leave it all behind and to continue His work. To act; to preach the Gospel to the ends of the earth. During Lent we're focused on prayers and acts of penance and charity. Then comes the Easter celebration, and whew! Lent is OVER, and the temptation is to get back to life as we knew it.

But then we have Saint Faustina relaying Jesus' request that we continue with His work. And we are given this gift from Pope John Paul II officially declaring the Sunday after Easter Divine Mercy Sunday. With the Church's blessing, more and more parishes are encouraging the devotion, reminding us to begin the Novena prayers on Good Friday. It's pretty easy to pray that day. But on each day of the Easter Octave there are new petitions to present to God along with praying the Chaplet of Divine Mercy. So we can't go back to life as it was before Lent.

In fact, the Easter Season lasts 50 days. I like to think of it as practice time for the new life in Christ we received at Easter. Hopefully by the time Ordinary Time returns, our lives won't be the same!

What is Education?

2009-03-07T19:32:00.008-05:00

Michele Quigley asks this question over at The Family-Centered Life.

Somewhere on a piece of notebook paper from our pre-computer days, I have a one page essay on my philosophy of education. Would that I could lay my fingers on it now! But I do remember some of it, a piece of it, and that piece hasn't changed over the years. However, I'll talk about that in a bit.

My Oxford Desk Dictionary and Thesaurus gives "enlighten" as one of several synonyms for the word, "educate," and I like that. For to me, education is about more than teaching or instruction. For what is my aim in home education? That my children know, love, and serve God in this life and are forever happy with Him in the next. The Oxford also says that the prefix "en" means to "'bring into the condition of'". So at the heart of it for our family, education is bringing my children into the Light of Christ.

Probably few reading this would disagree with that. But what does that goal mean, practically-speaking? It is the guiding force in all decisions. It means that I believe that character is more important than academic achievement. As I've said for years, especially to newbies, St. Peter won't be checking for degrees at those pearly gates! What will matter, is what kind of people my children become; whether they have accepted God's love and learned to love God and others. I believe that in my heart of hearts, and it has freed me from so much worry over academics!

Now, I've had someone quip back to me that maybe my kids aren't so academically inclined, but that her kids were college-bound. Freedom from anxiety about academics doesn't infer indifference to it. With my goal to know, love, and serve God, it is imperative that my children receive solid instruction. God made this world and the people in it, and when we study it, its history, its scientific principles,when we study those whom God made in His Image and Likeness, we are getting to know a bit (and sometimes a great deal!) about our wondrous Creator. So we've never been lightweights on academics. A very wise priest on retreat once said "caught, not taught" in reference to kids' education. My 31 years of mothering has shown the veracity of his view. "Caught, not taught" means that my deepest convictions communicate with the greatest power. So I think it matters tremendously that I "know that I know " that what is most important is allowing God to love us and to love Him in return.

Of course, I'm still on the journey myself, and so I've been evolving in how I live this philosophy. Only a week ago I went on a mothers' retreat and I took away from that blessed time the realization that I need to show Christ to my children through my words and actions. Oh, I've known for years that I ought to see Christ in my children, and that was mentioned as well on the retreat. But I had an "Aha!" moment of seeing that another guiding principle in this homeschool adventure was to be Christ to my children. Or, to put it in the vernacular, WWJD? (And here's where I insert the disclaimer that I'm a sinner and I fall short all too often of doing what I imagine Our Savior would do!)

However, I see that in picking out programs, or books, or methodologies that make ideas and concepts more accessible to an individual child, I am reaching out to him or her, appreciating those qualities that make that child unique. Which brings me to what I recall from that education essay of long ago: I wrote that the best teacher meets a student where he's at, in order to lead him to where he needs to be. My model at the time (as now) was Jesus, Who, I noted, didn't tell people, "Come see Me when you're perfect" but rather, met people where they were at, dined with the sinners, and invited them into relationship. So, too, I recognized the power of relationship in reaching students. Picking the best means to help a child learn, tailoring the curriculum to him, is a means of saying, "I'm here with you, just where you are, and together we'll travel." Contrast that with exasperation that a child isn't able to solve problems or master concepts according the scope and sequence for his grade level or age!

My view of what education is, then, is to enlighten, to show God's Truth and Love. And I think this involves seeing the truth of where my kids are at, of reaching out to them at that place they each happen to be, in order to assist them in their journey. A third component of education in our home is developing a love of learning. There are things that my kids must learn in order that they be able to function in life. These might need to be mastered with a spirit of obedience. But another goal of working with my children as individuals is maintaining their natural love of learning, and again, "caught, not taught" plays a huge role. My husband and I both love learning and treasure books, and our home reflects that, with overflowing bookcases in nearly every room. We've been blessed to find many at bargain prices, but we've also sacrificed in order to make purchases. We love being outdoors and contemplating nature. We've never been particularly concerned with the mess that ensues when nature is brought indoors. And because creativity doesn't always flourish "on a schedule" I've made a point to have art supplies easily available to the kids to use whenever. For example, our construction paper is separated by color into paper trays that sit out in the open with scissors and glue and other paraphernalia in nearby drawers. Giving the kids time is essential. Time to think, to observe, to create. All these things make for a learning-friendly environment, which, in turn, nourish a love of learning.

I embarked on this adventure 15 years ago with the encouragement of friends who championed homeschooling as the best means to raise their children in the Faith and to give them a quality education. I had two children in public school at the time, so I knew some of the short-comings of the system. Having been educated as a nurse with my B.S.N., I had already had a paradigm shift in deciding to home birth after my first two were born at hospitals. My research into home birthing was a prelude to my study of home education. It prepared me to take responsibility for my children, as opposed to deferring to the "experts." I've never looked back, as this is definitely how my husband and I feel called to raise our family. What I've learned a long the way is how very much I enjoy being with my children! I marvel at what they think of and delight in their observations. We are eclectic homeschoolers, with not a little spirit of unschooling. It works for us.

Pre-1985 Books Banned!

2009-02-17T11:58:00.005-05:00

This refers to books for children age 12 and under. See a good synopsis here of this idiocy by the Consumer Product Safety Commission.

Merry Christmas!

2009-01-05T19:19:00.003-05:00

Wow, I didn't realize that I hadn't wished you all a merry and blessed Christmas! Well, it is still Christmas, for which I'm very grateful. I love that our Church gives us not just a day, but a season for our celebration. It will come to a close with the feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, which this year falls on January 11th. Our parish will keep its decorations up until the 12th, as will we. It truly is a gift to be able to feast -- both spiritually and temporally -- for all these days!

Something to Contemplate

2008-12-10T09:18:00.004-05:00

My thanks to Nancy Carpentier Brown over at Flying Stars for bringing to my attention the Holy Father's

Angelus address

from the First Sunday of Advent. This was just what I needed to lift me out of my own limited view of time! How remarkable that we never feel that we have enough, even though, as Pope Benedict points out, "God gives us His time."

An Obama Presidency...

2008-11-02T22:46:00.009-05:00

,,,would increase the number of abortions. The bishops see this is the case, and so they issued a joint statement a couple of weeks ago. I got the following email tonight from a friend of mine, and I think he captures many of our thoughts and feelings, as well as noting how very costly to life an Obama win would be. Feel free to send this onto your friends and family.

Friends,

As the election rapidly approaches, I’m very tired of the ads, the emails, the debates, and the discord. I’m sure you are too. With that said, I apologize in advance for yet another email. However, from a Catholic Christian perspective, I felt compelled to share the letter promulgated by the US Conference of Catholic Bishops a little over a week ago. It is only a two page document, but full of wisdom. It is attached for those who would like to review it. If, at this point, you are ready to delete this email, PLEASE don’t. Regardless of your political persuasion, the Bishops’ letter is of UTMOST importance.

In the letter, the Bishops make a very poignant observation. They stated “even the limited pro-life laws allowed by the Court since Roe have been shown to reduce abortions substantially, leading to a steady decline in the abortion rate since 1980”. Their point is that although Roe vs. Wade has not been overturned, many of the court decisions since 1973 have lead to a significant reduction in the number of abortions. According to the bishops, “other modest and widely supported laws have saved millions of lives”. This really resonated with me because, at times, I feel that all our prayers and efforts in this area have born such little fruit.

The Bishops’ encouraging statements are echoed and confirmed by those in favor of abortion (see this link to ProChoice America). Bullet 4 on the link is especially encouraging.

The Bishops then proceed to point out that these gains stand threatened by the “Freedom of Choice Act”. This act, which is supported by one of the candidates (see video at the end of this paragraph), would automatically overturn existing state laws in the following areas:

- State abortion reporting requirements in all 50 states
- Forty-four states’ laws concerning parental involvement
- Forty states’ laws on restricting later-term abortions
- Forty-six states’ conscience protection laws for individual health care providers
- Twenty-seven states’ conscience protection laws for institutions
- Thirty-eight states’ bans on partial-birth abortions
- Thirty-three states’ laws on requiring counseling before an abortion
- Sixteen states’ laws concerning ultrasounds before an abortion

I am personally VERY TIRED of our current two party system as I don’t think either party is really looking out for our best interests. I too am frustrated by the state of the economy, the poverty that plagues our disenfranchised, the war, and the greed that has invaded our 401K retirements. However, as Christians, we are called to be SELFLESS.

My heart aches for the millions of lives that are cut short by abortion and the pain that their mothers will endure the rest of their lives. Social justice demands that a mother facing an unwanted pregnancy is made fully aware of the emotional pain that threatens the rest of her life as a result of a decision made at a very vulnerable time in her life. The Freedom of Choice Act will remove/prevent those safeguards for these vulnerable women – a true social justice issue.

As you discern how God is calling you to cast your vote, please prayerfully consider the Bishops’ comments – the stakes are TRULY high this time around.

Peace…Tim

Overturning Roe v. Wade

2008-11-02T22:39:00.005-05:00

How often have you heard, "overturning Roe v. Wade won't really achieve anything for the pro-life cause"? Well, it turns out that 46 states had their laws over-ridden by that 1973 Supreme Court decision. If Roe is overturned, those state laws could/would be active again. The immediate effect would be to lower the number of abortions because abortion was already restricted in many states before Roe.

Catholics Can Make a Difference

2008-10-24T21:20:00.004-04:00

...if they have well-formed consciences!

Catholics and Obama

2008-10-23T17:34:00.004-04:00

George Weigel writes in Newsweek a rebuttal to the Catholic professors who have publicly endorsed Obama for president.

Among other excellent points, Weigel states:

Is John McCain...a perfect pro-life candidate? Of course not. But Barack Obama is a perfect pro-life nightmare.

What You Won't Read in the Average Newspaper

2008-10-12T13:50:00.005-04:00

I was perusing Elizabeth Foss's blog, In the Heart of My Home, and came across two links here, and here, to information that needs wider dissemination. The first deals with the predicted effects of Obama's economic proposals, and the second is a pro-life speech given by Governor Palin in Johnstown, PA.

Our Lady of the Rosary

2008-10-07T13:25:00.004-04:00

Today's her feast day! And today's Mass readings included the story of Mary and Martha, the one in which Martha is complaining to the Lord about her sister's lack of help, and Jesus tells her that Mary has chosen the better part. The story that gave me the title for this blog!

So what does that tell me, that on the feast of Our Lady of the Rosary the Church in her wisdom chooses to remind us that we mustn't worry and get overly concerned with tasks such that we miss listening to Jesus? It tells me that praying the Rosary is a wonderful way to become recollected and to prepare my soul to hear the Son of God made Man. It tells me that through the Rosary I will find the balance between the Martha and Mary within me. It tells me that my heavenly Mother wants to come to my aid! I feel so blessed to have Mother Church and Mother Mary!

It was a "Mom Moment": The McCain - Palin Rally Part 2

2008-09-11T09:49:00.012-04:00

In our hurry to get to the rally Tuesday morning, I had neglected to look at the name of the street where we parked, but I knew that it was off of Main Street so we headed over. I noticed the side streets blocked off with squad cars. There weren't a whole lot of people around. I asked an officer if McCain and Palin were coming this way. "Yes, just as soon as they get done shaking hands down there," motioning a couple of blocks over to where the rally had been.

"Oooohhhh! Let's go back!" said Little Miss, jumping excitedly.

"There's no time for that," interjected the officer. "They'll be getting in their campaign bus in a minute."

A woman came up to me. "Yes, I heard that they're going to be driving right by here, but they'll be going by fast, so be sure to stay out of the street."

We pretty much had our side of the block to ourselves, so we spread out and waited, LM and Mr. E proudly holding their "Vote McCain Palin" signs that LM had made. And sure enough, first came police cars and motorcycles, and then the Straight Talk campaign bus. We could see both McCain and Palin in the front of the bus, and the bus was traveling...slowly!

There were people on the other side of the street as well, and I so wanted McCain and Palin to see these children of mine who'd been such troopers throughout the 4 hours we'd been in Lebanon. I was further up the street from LM and Mr. E and I began wildly waving my hands, pointing down at my youngest two kids as if to say, "Look! Look here! These kids are cheering for you!" And then it happened.

I saw Sarah Palin clearly (well, as clearly as you can through a bus window!) and I knew she'd seen me, had seen the mom wanting her kids to be noticed. Our gazes met and there was an affirmative nod and a big smile, as if to say, "I know! I see them!" It was a "Mom Moment": we'd connected, she knew what I wanted; she'd read my mother's heart.

LM, who hadn't seen me gesturing, tells what happened. "I saw Sarah Palin get John McCain's attention, like, look at these kids over here. And he did! He looked at our signs and pointed!" Oh yes, he did, LM! McCain looked intently (reading them) and then his face lit up and his smile was huge as he pointed and shared the moment with his running mate.

"And did you see Gov. Palin?" LM asked. "She acted excited" [LM demos her pulling her arms close in to her body and sitting on the edge of her seat] "and she waved like this at us!" [LM demos a little wave by bending her fingers forward from her palm, with her arms still pulled in close to her body.] And then they'd passed and the bus was on its way.

We'd only been 3 people in a crowd of 7,000 that morning; while the kids had listened intently to the speeches, they'd seen very little of the candidates. I consider it another wonderful blessing that we just happened to park where we did and to be returning to our car at that particular time. As they rode by in the Straight Talk bus, John McCain and Sarah Palin were only 4 or 5 feet away. Had the bus windows been open, we could have shaken hands. As it is, my kids got the thrill of knowing they'd been seen -- and their signs read -- by the man and woman who hopefully will be the next president and vice-president of this great country ours.

Impressions from the McCain - Palin Rally

2008-09-09T21:27:00.009-04:00

This morning Mr. Encyclopedia, LM, and I headed out a little before 7 to drive to the McCain - Palin Rally in Lebanon, Ohio, about 15 miles from our home. John McCain and Sarah Palin were speaking at The Golden Lamb, where 12 (count 'em!) presidents have previously appeared. A crowd of 5,000 was expected; I'm told that that was how many came out for Pres. Bush 4 years ago. Local news reports put today's turnout at closer to 10,000!

And it was raining!! Yes, imagine 8 city blocks lined with people under umbrellas. But spirits were high. I must admit, I wondered as we walked and walked to find the line's end whether we ought to just go home now, stopping on the way for coffee. :) Did I mention that we're not morning people? But we hung in there, and I have to say that the upbeat attitudes around me were a big assist. There seemed to be people of all ages from all walks of life.

It was with relief that we finally made it to the security check point and I realized that we were going to get in. "In" is perhaps misleading: the rally was outdoors, but they'd cordoned off a huge area in front of the hotel/restaurant and the only way in was through the metal detectors. Although the check point was covered, the table on which I laid my fanny pack and camera case to be inspected was sopping wet, probably because that was how we all were arriving. Though not a few had carried lawn chairs, they had to be left at the gate, along with all umbrellas. I hung Mr. E's compact umbrella on the larger one LM and I had shared and laid it against a barrier, hoping that I'd be able find it again.

Now I don't presume to know how God would vote in this election, but I do know that we were abundantly blessed this morning. For after we got past security, there wasn't another drop of rain! Amazing after being in drizzle to downpour for an hour and forty minutes. We no sooner found a spot in which to stand, then the MC for the event, Hall of Famer, Anthony Munoz, took the mike and the festivities began. It was exactly 9 o'clock and on schedule. We were fairly near the back of the crowd, but I found that I could still see (most of the time.) LM and Mr. E had no hope of gaining a clear view but the sound system was good, and they were enjoying themselves. We'd been given "Thunder Sticks" with John McCain's name on them; LM blew hers up before I'd even read the directions on how to inflate them! So I gave her mine to do as well.

We heard from local officials and politicians first. Both kids took note of the men on rooftops and listened intently as one speaker told of trying to take a short-cut at a previous rally and being stopped (and interrogated) by secret service. "My kids learned a new word that day: sniper." When Sarah Palin spoke, I really wanted them to be able to see her. A young woman who looked to be in her early 20's tried to find a spot for them to see, but they were just too short. So I bravely asked a man to my left if he would mind giving my daughter a quick boost up so she could say she saw the candidates. (McCain was on the platform when Gov. Palin spoke, as was Sarah's husband, Todd.) He was most obliging, and repeated the effort for my son. What a kindness! And how blessed I felt that this man proved to be so strong: neither of my kids are lightweights, but he made it look easy!

There were all kinds of signs, pre-printed and homemade. "Working Moms for McCain" and "The New Mac Attack." We all chuckled at one that said, "Read My Lipstick: Drill for Oil Now. Sarah!" LM and I took turns holding up her signs that read, "Vote McCain Palin" which she'd colored in pink, green, blue, and red. Thankfully she'd had me laminate them the night before, or they'd have been ruined in the rain. On the way in we'd seen a bumper sticker that exhorted, "Annoy a Liberal: Work Hard and Be Happy!"

Palin's speech pretty much echoed her acceptance speech at the convention, although she threw in a few more items, such as mentioning that as governor of Alaska she'd put the veto pen to nearly a half a billion dollars in reckless spending. I thought that McCain was more dynamic than he'd been at the convention. How could he not be energized by the crowds that had waited hours in the rain to hear him speak?! He was relaxed enough to joke: Saying we needed to reprocess and store spent nuclear fuel he added "The French do it," [slight pause] then, "My Friends, we always want to imitate the French." There was laughter and then he continued, "...we now have a pro-America president of France, by the way, which shows if you live long enough, anything can happen in the world!"

At the close of the rally, the kids and I hurried to where we'd left our umbrellas, only to discover that with the removal of the metal detectors, most of the umbrellas had been tossed in one huge pile. Immediately those closest to the pile started holding up umbrellas for people in the crowd to claim. Never-the-less, we were getting smooshed. When a lady realized there were children being squeezed, she was alarmed. I told her I was trying to get them out of the crowd, so that they could wait in the open while I retrieved our umbrellas. This woman proceeded to command others' attention and I watched a chain of action help the kids escape the crush. How cool was that? And it wasn't long before I spotted my pair of umbrellas where I'd left them, and got someone to hand them over to me. God is good!

Sarah Palin had said in her speech that small town America was what it was all about, and lauded how great that is. This rang so true as we strode away from the crowd only to have a woman call out to us. Although I hadn't ever met her, she was from our parish and had recognized us. "Where are your other kids?" she asked. (Pretzel was just getting over a sinus infection and had elected to stay home, and Stand Up had wanted to come but had stayed up until 1 AM the night before working on chemistry homework, and couldn't get up so early.) Then, a few paces later, a car exiting an alley stopped abruptly as did we at its appearance. And who was it but a family from our local homeschool group. Small world, even in a crowd of 10,000.

We visited a few minutes and then continued on our trek to our car. I will post later about what turned out to be the biggest blessing of the day.

ETA: According to Wednesday's Cincinnati Enquirer, Lebanon police put the crowd at 7,000. That was still more than turned out for Bush in '04, according to Mayor Amy Brewer.

R.E.M. Curriculum Plan

2008-07-19T12:41:00.002-04:00

I haven't done any formal research, but I'd bet that most boys who transfer from homeschooling to brick-and-mortar schools do so during or at the end of the junior high years. Why? Because starting at about age 11 or 12, boys in general are not well suited to homeschooling. And many parents assume (erroneously, I might add) that the fault lies with their homeschool. They believe, having just survived the junior high years, that high school can only be worse, and so they give up. In reality, boys this age are simply not easy to educate.

I should know: my fifth son is going into 8th grade. Oh, the Pretzel is a very compliant child. He wants to please, to do as he should school-wise. But he forgets. Repeatedly. Just like he doesn't know his own strength, and so doors tend to be shut with enough force to pop nails out of drywall. And plastic cups are cracked before their drink is drunk. And an indoor voice is... nonexistent.

My second son was in public school -- our town had no Catholic schools -- when I learned from his choir director that when boys' bodies are growing rapidly, as they do in those junior high years, there isn't anything leftover for their brains. All their energy, all their bodily resources, are going into growing taller and stronger and heavier. That's when they quit thinking. Quite literally.

Haven't you ever noticed that junior high boys have the maturity of, say, four year olds? They want what they want when they want it. They act without thinking about the consequences. They feel invincible. They wear you out! And no matter how many times you've told them (something, anything... to do a chore, or do a math problem) something else will capture their attention, and they're off, sometimes just lost in their thoughts and sometimes down the street. That they need to read a book before writing the report on it, or to put away the clean dishes from the dishwasher before adding dirty ones, is a detail that somehow escapes their notice.

It is particularly heart-wrenching with nice boys, the ones who try to obey and want to excel. These boys are truly dismayed when they discover they've broken the vacuum because of standing on it, or gotten smudges on the newly painted walls from flinging slime at them. Who'd have thunk it? "Pretzel, why is the lawn mower in the middle of the back yard?" "Ohhhhhh yeeeaaahhhhh," he says with wonder as he runs outdoors to either put the machine away, or finish the mowing job.

My oldest two sons attended regular schools, so when Thinker, who was homeschooled from the beginning, hit junior high age and I searched in vain for his gray matter that had gone missing, I knew our homeschool was not to blame. It was then that I developed my curriculum plan to address the imbalance that is inherent in middle schoolers or junior high guys: R. E. M.

It stands for Reading, Exercise, and Math. Do you know that you can actually absorb a lot of knowledge just from reading??? Especially if what is being read is engaging and the boy is not distracted knowing that he's going to have to write out answers to questions based on said reading? Besides, at the point when the boy would be writing an essay based on what he read, it is quite likely that his body will choose that very time to grow two inches in height, and although he'll swear to you that he did read the book, he'll not be able to access the material until he's added a half a foot to his height. Some day, when he's 16 or so, your family will be having an animated discussion around the dinner table and your son will relate why the issue at hand is just like one he read about in such-and-such a book a few years ago. Try not to stare, dumb-founded at the re-emergence of his reasoning abilities, but simply smile and say, "Why yes, it is!"

Exercise. House apes, I mean, boys, need lots of opportunity to flex their muscles, to test their physical endurance, to "run off steam." Give it to them. Now is a good time to invest in a trampoline if you haven't already. Plan on a good portion of every school day being spent outdoors; 60-70% is not unrealistic! Let them run with the dog, hourly if needed. Have them shoot some hoops before sitting down to do math.

The one indispensable subject, in my opinion, is math. Whatever math curriculum you're using at whatever level, try to have the junior high student do it daily, or at least 4 days out of 7. Math is sequential, it builds on itself and doesn't lend itself to cramming. There are just too many math facts and skills to learn. That's why there are no Reader's Digest Condensed Math books! Abridged versions would be leaving out something critical.

But you can set aside writing activities until the boy's body is no longer playing the Incredible Hulk with him. If you must do other work with your son, do as much as possible orally. I tell you, he hasn't the resources to think, write, and remember all at once. Writing without the other two usually isn't very useful. In fact, it might actually be detrimental if it reinforces poor spelling and grammar because a certain segment of his brain is on sabbatical. Better to wait until he's rejoined civilized society and can compose and keep a thought and write or type it, too.

Now that you've redesigned your expectations to fit his reality, you will likely find the junior high youth to be much more pleasant in your homeschool. There will be far fewer times that you'll feel the need to look up enrollment dates for the nearest brick-and-mortar school. Because he no longer feels that what you're requiring of him is impossible, he will be much more compliant. You will have freed him to concentrate on math and reading. He'll do better in those because he no longer faces hours of seat work. Instead, he'll exercise his body and in so doing, prepare his brain to learn from what he reads.

There's one more thing the junior high boy needs: to be required to be respectful at all times. He could argue that he'll never need to conjugate verbs in his chosen life's work, but he can't argue that he won't need the habit of a respectful attitude throughout his life. By using R.E.M., you'll have taken the burden off of him, and that should make it easier for him to gain control over his emotions and to handle his raging hormones. He needs you to set a firm boundary of acceptable behavior, that is respectful behavior. When the time comes, he'll learn to write essays and do other written assignments. But this will be easier if he has already become respectful of those around him.

So don't despair of homeschooling through high school! Your student will be older then! He will get comfortable in his body and be able to think once again. If he hasn't grown oppositional through his junior high years fighting not-very-realistic expectations all the time, he will, by the first or second year of high school, become amenable to education once more, and that positive attitude will enhance his ability to learn. What you'd have struggled to teach him as a 12 or 13 year old will be much more readily assimilated when he gets just a little more mature. And you'll arrive at this stage ready to greet it with joy, rather than by throwing in the towel.

Kristin Lavransdatter

2008-07-14T17:57:00.008-04:00

I am re-reading the book by Sigrid Undset, Kristin Lavransdatter, this time the newer translation by Tiina Nunnally. I keep wishing that I had an index to the characters, because after so many Andresson's, Bjorgulfson's, Gjeslings, and so on, I sometimes wonder "Who is this?" when a name comes up! LOL--this might be due to reading in short bursts of "mother-time" or it may just be the nature of the book, with its Norwegian names and many complexities.

It is a wonderful read, and as a friend said to me recently, "It is a book that everyone ought to read!" I surely would like for it to have a larger audience, but I seldom find that anyone I know has read it. At over 1100 pages, Kristin Lavransdatter is a somewhat serious endeavor! Helen Alvare, former Director of Planning and Information for the Pro-Life Secretariat of the National Conference of Catholic Bishops, once wrote that it was must-read for any girl coming of age because of its lessons in the consequences of our choices.

So I'm wondering, dare I attempt to write a guide to Kristin Lavransdatter? Could I possibly find the time to do so? Stay tuned!

For a excellent review of this masterpiece by Sigrid Undset, winner of the Nobel Prize in Literature, read this.

The Prison Angel

2008-05-20T09:44:00.004-04:00

Currently I'm reading the book of Mother Teresa's private writings, Come Be My Light. There is so much to reflect on in the holy nun's experience! It brought to mind another book by Mary Jordan and Kevin Sullivan that I read a couple of summers ago: The Prison Angel: Mother Antonia's Journey from Beverly Hills to a Life of Service in a Mexican Jail.

Admire her though we might, Mother Teresa's quest to serve the "poorest of the poor" is far beyond what most of us can envision. And her work having begun half a world away (from us in the USA) adds to the sense of uniqueness of Mother Teresa's call. But what about a mother of seven who grew up with every advantage, who, after two divorces, gives up everything she has to move into a Tijuana prison to serve? We can't distance ourselves from Mother Antonia as we do Mother Teresa because Mother Antonia, albeit most of us don't have Hollywood roots, is one of us: an American, a mom, a woman with a very imperfect life.

This is a book you should read for many reasons. Sometimes called the "Mother Teresa of Tijuana," the former Mary Clarke had a heart for service nurtured in her from when she was a little girl and would accompany her father on his charitable work. Now Mother Antonia, she is an inspiration not only for her ministry to brutal criminals and drug dealers inside the prison and out, but also because she embarked on this work full-time at the age of 50! She started a religious order specifically geared toward helping women in their later years realize a second vocation. There's a lot to contemplate here about what we do with our lives once our child-rearing and homemaking duties are no longer front and center.

Not only that, but Jordan and Sullivan's book presents a vivid picture of the plague affecting our southern neighbor--and us. The drug dealing just south of the border reaches into our country, as does the violence which comes with it. In our fair, free country, where the accused and prisoners have rights, it is eye-opening to discover that the poor in Tijuana's prisons are left to fend for themselves, even for basic necessities such as food and medical care. Mother Antonia works tirelessly to provide for them, and like Mother Teresa, embraces their poverty, living in a cell within the prison.

Married to one another, Jordan and Sullivan are Pulitzer Prize-winning reporters with the Washington Post. Their book has garnered 5 stars on Amazon in 21 reviews! Read it. Tell others about it.

I Love My Parish!

2008-05-07T20:43:00.004-04:00

There are over 3,200 registered families at our parish, and we have a K through 8 school. But as far as I know, there are only 2-3 homeschool families. And one of those only homeschools for K or grades 1-2 and then enrolls her children in the school.

So often there are conflicts in parishes between the families with students in the school and those with students in Religious Ed. Or between the homeschoolers and the school families. But I haven't seen that kind of conflict at my church.

Last fall my three youngest joined the children's choir, which meets for practice twice a month after school. Most of the kids attend the parish school, and they sing at the weekly school Mass as well as at a Sunday Mass once a month. When they found out my kids were homeschooled, they were invited to come sing with the others at the school Masses. My kids were thrilled as they love to sing. And the students in the choir greeted the news that they were homeschooled with comments like, "Cool!"

Not only that, but Pretzel tried out for a cantoring position and got one! So several times this year he and a fellow student cantored the responsorial psalm together. Today was special, though. Pretzel sang the Psalm solo. I was so proud of him! And so very, very grateful for this parish -- and its school -- which could welcome my children and let them fully participate.

It is as it should be, I think. But we all know far too many things that aren't as they should be, so I don't take this for granted.

We need a new motto...

2008-04-29T13:53:00.010-04:00

They say "Cleanliness is next to Godliness," but right now, I wish the saying so well known was something like, "Modesty is next to sanctity"! A good friend -- a mother of a houseful of boys like myself who doesn't have time to read blogs, let alone write one -- laments that even the homeschool girls wear tight jeans and shorts, and it is driving her teen sons to distraction. "What are the mothers and fathers of those daughters thinking?!"

Indeed! Even though there are books about dressing with dignity, it seems that many a family is oblivious to what their daughters are to the young men they're around: near occasions of sin! Yep, you read that right! Her son was miserable the day after a teen picnic because he'd fallen. His raging hormones and virile body got the better of him. His dad was sympathetic, but had no answers, since one would just about have to give up socializing to avoid girls whose clothing is skin-tight, revealing, and/or provocative.

Now, maybe it's that the moms of teen girls don't realize that boys, too, have raging hormones. Maybe the dads don't want to admit that their daughters look sexy. Or maybe it's that families are getting so much exposure to our culture, that their sensitivity to the issue has been dulled. Perhaps the lack of suitable clothing has them stymied for a solution.

sigh But we can't give up! We can't just tell young men who want to be chaste, "Oh well." Yes, when they are grown men, they likely will have to learn to deal with immodest dress, even if they become priests! But we're talking about guys at a time in their lives when their bodies are in hyper-drive. If you've read any Theology of the Body, you know that patterns are being set in these years, too.

My eldest son has been very blessed: he decided while in college that it'd be neat to be able to say when he was married that he'd only kissed his wife. God gave him that grace! His brothers know this story, and I suspect some of them are hoping for the same grace. So it's not like I have sons who are running with the popular culture. Yet I have heard them, too, mention wishing that girls would not be dressed so immodestly. It is hard enough to keep one's ideals and live virtuously, without having the girls whose company you so enjoy torment you. Even unintentionally.

Read that again: Torment. In a previous life I spent time as a nurse on an adolecent unit. Teen boys are going to respond physically to your daughters if those girls' clothing hugs their new curves and draws the eye below the hipline. Oh, of course, most well-bred Catholic homeschooled boys will hide those responses. Most probably won't even reveal how they feel to their dads as did my friend's son. But don't kid yourself; young men are being stimulated by immodest dress, no matter how much they wish they weren't! No matter how much denial there is on the part of moms and dads, daughters and sons.

Do you really want your daughter to be a near occasion of sin?

This Church Should be Filled...

2008-04-23T15:18:00.003-04:00

I was sitting at adoration yesterday evening in a nearly empty church, and wondering how could that be...

There are 12,000 people at my parish; how is it that not even 10%, nor a mere 1%, are present every Tuesday evening?

Oh, I know, people are incredibly busy and there aren't enough hours in the day for most of us. But, if people only knew, only knew Who it is Who calls to them from that monstrance on the altar! "You are the Christ," said St. Peter to Jesus.

Yes! It is Jesus the Lord who humbles Himself awaiting our adoration on altars and in tabernacles all across the world. Won't you oblige Him?

He is Risen! Alleluia!

2008-03-23T20:47:00.005-04:00

What a glorious day! Great joy! I just want to share one thing from a terrific homily this morning, which Father Marty says he borrowed from Pope John XXIII. "On the third day, John and Peter run to the tomb. Easter morning finds the Church running toward Jesus!"

What a magnificent image, the Church of the new age running toward Jesus! May the good Lord see fit to spur me on always, ever running to Him!

Iraqi Archbishop Found Dead

2008-03-13T13:57:00.011-04:00

Chaldean Catholic Archbishop Faraj Rahho of Iraq has been found dead. You can read about it here and here

May his soul, and the souls of his companions, through the mercy of God rest in peace, and may Perpetual Light shine upon them, amen.

May we all also offer prayers for our Iraqi brothers and sisters in Christ at this assault on their shepherd.

The Monastic, Domestic Life, Part 2

2008-03-01T23:02:00.006-05:00

What brought my attention to the article by Rev. Rolheiser was the following which was posted to my local homeschool group's email list:

What is a monastery? A monastery is not so much a place set apart for monks and nuns as it is a place set apart (period). It is also a place to learn the value of powerlessness and a place to learn that time is not ours, but God's.

Our home and our duties can, just like a monastery, teach us those things. For example, the mother who stays home with small children experiences a very real withdrawal from the world. Her existence is definitely monastic. Her tasks and preoccupations remove her from the centers of power and social importance. And she feels it.

Moreover, the demands of young children also provide her with what St. Bernard, one of the great architects of monasticism, called the "monastic bell". All monasteries have a bell. Bernard, in writing his rules for monasticism told his monks that whenever the monastic bell rang they were to drop whatever they were doing and go
immediately to the particular activity (prayer, meals, work, study, sleep) to which the bell was summoning them. He was adamant that they respond immediately, stating that if they were writing a letter they were to stop in mid-sentence when the bell rang. The idea in his mind was that when the bell called, it called you to the next task and you were to respond immediately, not because you want to, but because it's time, it's God's time. For him, the monastic bell was intended as a discipline to stretch the heart by always taking you beyond your own agenda to God's agenda.

Hence, a mother rearing children, perhaps in a more privileged way even than a professional contemplative is forced, almost against her will, to constantly stretch her heart. For years, while rearing children, her time is never her own, her own needs have to be kept in second place and every time she turns around a hand is reaching out and demanding something. She hears the monastic bell many times during the day and she has to drop things in mid-sentence and respond, not because she wants to, but because it's time for that activity and time isn't her time, but God's time.

This was apparently taken from an article in the Seattle archdiocese's newspaper, The Catholic Northwest Progress. Not wanting to post the material secondhand so-to-speak, I went to their website, but its search function wasn't operational. So I Googled and found the link I gave in my previous post to another article of Rev. Rolheiser's on the same theme. However, upon more reflection, I decided to post this quote, because I think it more directly addresses our lives as homeschooling mothers.

A second reason I decided to post this quote was reading Flying Stars this evening. Nancy C. Brown talks about accepting life's interruptions cheerfully! Note to self: I'm to live a monastic life, not a moanstic one!

The Monastic Domestic Life

2008-03-01T20:06:00.004-05:00

About 12 years ago Kimberly Hahn spoke in Des Moines, Iowa. She related a story about holding the baby while trying to cook dinner with a toddler clinging to her legs and how she thought of the cloistered nuns going into prayer about this hour and said to God, "Wrong vocation, Lord! Wrong vocation!" She was kidding, of course. But we moms do have our moments!

So it was with great interest that I read this about how our lives as mothers at home can be truly monastic.

Happy Lent!

Rudy's Daughter, Too

2008-03-01T11:21:00.004-05:00

March 1st. I still remember the snow on the ground, lawns buried in icy whiteness, and sidewalks that were navigated with peril. I remember awakening at 6 that Thursday morning to sounds in the living room: my mom sitting on the davenport in her nightgown and robe sobbing, two police officers standing there--strangers let in on an intimate moment, witness to the pain. My 17 year old brother was there, too, and as he saw me amble in he grimaced as if to say, "You don't want to come in here! Go back to bed!"

I saw my brother's look and ran right past him to my mom. Ignoring the policemen I asked her what was wrong. "I'll tell you later," she said through her tears. But I was persistent, and she too weak to fight me. "Your father's dead," she said at last.

What does that mean to a 7 year old? "Your father's dead." It would not be until later that evening that it would sink in, that my mind would finally try to grasp the meaning of the words. And then it felt as if I would die, too. "Never coming home" was too big a reality to take in, and as I contemplated exactly what that meant, that I would never see my daddy again, I became hysterical with grief, feeling that my very heart was being pierced and I could not survive.

Over the next few years I would have moments again of that unbearable grief. I was a latch-key kid of a single mom and my brother had moved away, so alone at home I would pray to God to please let it all be a mistake and please let my daddy come walking through the door. I would remember his last words to me, and remember how he sounded, and what it was like to climb into his lap. I had been his princess.

Then the memories of his person faded and one day I realized that I could no longer recollect in my mind what his voice sounded like. A new loss, to not be able to recall that sense of him alive, but with it I gave up wishing for his return. Eventually the overwhelming sorrow subsided.

I determined to be strong in life and did not grieve again for many years. I've often been told that I think like a guy, that is, I'm analytical, methodical, a problem-solver. It took me many years to ever let myself be vulnerable, especially to love. Still, I was extremely rational and fought off feelings of sadness, dismissing the loss as being "a long time ago."

A freedom of middle age has been to learn to honor my memories. No longer do they threaten anguish against which I must defend myself. No longer do I listen to my internalized elders--or others--telling me not to weep, not to feel the sadness. No, today I allow my tears. No little girl should have to lose her father, although many of us do. No little girl should have to grow up so fast, although I did. In many ways, I became the father I didn't have. But on this day, on March 1st, I let myself be the daughter again, the daughter mourning the loss of her daddy.

What Kind of Bright Idea is This, Anyway?

2008-02-18T22:32:00.006-05:00

In December Congress passed an energy bill which bans the incandescent light bulb as an energy savings measure beginning in 2012. Right off the bat, maybe this doesn't sound like a bad idea. But then you learn that the new compact fluorescent bulbs (CFL's) contain mercury. Say what?! And there are special procedures to follow in case of breakage!

I don't know about your household, but in ours, light bulb breaks happen several times a year. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that I have 4 boys still living at home. Just a couple of weeks ago Stand-Up was doing just that, I mean, standing up, when he somehow managed to knock the lamp on the end table to the floor. He turned on the light to see if it still worked and there was a mini-explosion. A closer examination of the bulb revealed a small hole at its base. And he was just standing up! Not horsing around, or anything. (Can you say rapid growth spurt--as in, doesn't know what size he is anymore?!)

So I'm reading about these new bulbs we're all going to be forced to buy, and several things give me great pause. First, when there is breakage, guess what they recommend? Open your windows to ventilate the house! You know, statistically at least of quarter of the breaks in our home are likely to occur when the outside temperature is below freezing. Exactly how are we going to conserve energy opening our windows in sub-freezing temps? To prevent problems they say to use a drop cloth when changing light bulbs! Excuse me, but we don't break light bulbs while changing them. We break them from dropping them while putting them away, from scrutinizing them in curiosity, not to mention the number one way, by knocking down lamps!! So now I'll not just have the broken glass to worry about, but mercury contamination as well!

Then there's this little gem: CFL's burn out sooner if they are turned on and off a lot, so the Energy Star people recommend leaving them on at least 15 minutes at a time! I have worked very hard to train my kids to turn off lights when they leave a room. Now I'm supposed to tell them leave them on? And are we really going to save energy if we leave all our lights on all the time? Because there's no way we're going to be able to keep track of how long a given light has been on so as to turn it off after 15 minutes.

I think this law must have been written without regard for homeschooling families who are home all day. And without regard to families that have kids! I'll be contacting my congressional representatives soon to demand that they revisit this part of the energy bill, because replacing the incandescent light bulb with mercury-containing fluorescents is just plain stupid!

A Light to the World...

2008-02-18T17:33:00.014-05:00

With yesterday having been the feast of the Transfiguration, I thought it a good time to link to this post on Maureen Wittmann's blog regarding the mountain top experience of Franciscan University.

It's a Cake, I mean, Book Walk!

2008-02-18T10:15:00.004-05:00

Cay has a new Book Walk going! These are so much fun! Even though I haven't won (yet!!) I still get to learn about wonderful books. Check it out; and good luck, everyone!

Who Needs a Curriculum?

2008-02-15T23:04:00.003-05:00

So today Pretzel asks me, "Why does the apostle Philip have a Macedonian name? Did Alexander the Great conquer the Holy Land or something? He was Jewish, not Greek, right?"

Which left me saying, "Ummm, let's read up on that!" And we started pulling books off the shelves to see what we could learn about Alexander the Great, when he lived and what lands he conquered. But we never found more info on Philip other than what we already knew from Scripture. It made me wish I was on a first name basis with Anne and Warren Carroll and could just pick up the phone, call them, and ask, "What can you tell me about the apostle Philip?"

Oh, we did learn that Alexander the Great's father was named Philip!

Feast of St. Apollonia, Patron Saint of Teeth

2008-02-09T13:48:00.000-05:00

Quite a number of years ago, I overheard our 3rd son talking to his sibs after he found 50 cents under his pillow. "There can't be a tooth fairy," he told them. "This must have been left by the patron saint of teeth. I don't know who that is, but there must be one!" Ahhh, the faith of children!

That led Krazyglue to search out a patron saint of teeth.
He settled upon St. Apollonia, a third century saint whose teeth were knocked out in an attempt to dissuade her of her Christian Faith. She was already invoked by those suffering from toothaches and dental diseases. Thus she became the one for whom the kids would leave their teeth, always reflecting on her sacrifice: "She gave her teeth for Christ."

Today is her feast day. You can read about her here or in this book.

Love2Learn is Giving Away Books!

2008-01-30T11:37:00.000-05:00

Go here after 10 AM Pacific time Wednesday to read about today's winners and to learn how to sign up for the next giveaway.

The Homeschool Mom Vocation

2008-01-27T21:34:00.001-05:00

I often look at how God the Father treats me for guidance in parenting my kids. For example, when I need to refresh my resolve not to nag them, or I'm tempted to belabor some recent failing on their part, I try to recall the story of the Prodigal Son. The father in that story did not harangue his son over blowing his inheritance; the son felt remorse enough without dad heaping on the guilt.

Today after Mass I was reflecting on the Church as the bride of Christ. Christ and His Church are a model for husband and wife. And the Church teaches. Then it hit me: The bride teaches! She is responsible for forming her children, the body. And I, my husband's bride, am responsible for teaching our children. But just as the Church is under the lordship of Jesus Christ, I, too, must teach under my husband's authority, in union with him. He is as important to our homeschool as Christ is to the Church!

I think this is fodder for further reflection.

I Got Tagged!

2008-01-24T18:21:00.000-05:00

After two posts citing The Cobbler, I guess I shouldn't be surprised that he tagged me. Here's the meme:

1. Pick up the nearest book (of at least 123 pages).
2. Open the book to page 123.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the next three sentences.
5. Tag five people.

Wonderful to relate! immediately there appeared on all these loaves the sign of the Cross, most beautifully figured; then of these loaves, some were eaten and some miraculously preserved. And the Holy Father, having seen the miracle, took of the loaves with him, and departed, leaving St. Clare with his blessing.
At that time, there dwelt in the Convent Sister Ortolana, the mother of St. Clare, and Sister Agnes, her own sister, full of virtue and of the Holy Spirit, and many other Religious; to whom St. Francis sent many sick and infirm, and they, by their prayers, and by the sign of the most holy Cross, restored health to them all.

This is from The Little Flowers of St. Francis of Assisi.

And now I tag:

Greene Exundham

Valerie

The Stopper Family

JoAnna

Junosmom

More Wisdom

2008-01-20T14:36:00.000-05:00

Speaking of The Cobbler, I was checking out his other blog, and found this post about why young men need their own retreats. I especially liked reason #7: "Because religion isn't just something we do to keep our moms happy, it's something we do because we know better than to try to be men without it." Wow, pretty cool insight for an 18 year old!

Prayer for Christian Unity

2008-01-20T13:50:00.000-05:00

e are in the middle of Prayer for Christian Unity Week, which runs Jan. 18-25. At Mass on Saturday, Father talked about the need for Christian unity not only between Catholics and Protestants, but also among Catholics. I think that this post by The Cobbler on The Three Anachronisms blog addresses very eloquently how the Church is enriched by both traditionalists and charismatics, and challenges us not to write off one or the other.

(Clipart courtesy FCIT)

Grace & the Mass

2008-01-14T13:05:00.001-05:00

Today I received a note in a Christmas card telling me how lucky I am that my children love their Faith. Believe me, I feel deeply blessed and tremendously grateful! God has granted me my heart's desire with that one, and I pray that He always will.

Today we also got a card and note from a dear Carmelite priest who lives in Ireland. He's the priest who gave the contemplative prayer retreat on which dh and I met so many moons ago in California. Once again, Father has given us the supreme gift: twice weekly Masses for our family for a year!! Just thinking about it overwhelms me!

Getting the two cards on the same day made me think that perhaps it's been Father's spiritual bouquets of Masses for us all these years that has enabled the faithfulness of our family. Oh, I'm by no means claiming sainthood for any of us; we confront our fallen natures on a daily basis I'm afraid. But it is true: my kids love God, love their Catholic Faith, and they want to do God's will. I don't deserve this gift. Thankfully, God doesn't usually give us what we deserve.

To Share, or Not to Share, and Here is a Question

2008-01-02T15:03:00.000-05:00

How often have those of you who homeschool had someone say, "Oh I could never do that!"? And you mutter some polite reply, down-playing that you have any innate talent at work. Maybe you wanted to shout, "Yes you could!" but kept the words inside lest you make the other person uncomfortable. For you know, when people make such disclaimers, they aren't saying homeschooling is bad; often they see it as a truly wonderful thing, but they justify not looking into it further with the belief that they could never manage. I confess, on more than one occasion I wanted to reply, "No, you probably couldn't homeschool if you still expect to keep your house just so, and if you aren't prepared to give up life as you know it." I'd go on, "Homeschooling is very worth it, of course!"

Similarly, I have lost count of how often someone has said to me, "I'd love to have a big family, but I just know that I couldn't manage more than my one [or two]." "It's grace," I usually reply. But I think that one reason people ooh and ahh over meeting someone homeschooling a large family is that they think I'm doing it and still managing to keep a beautiful house, or that I'm so well-organized that keeping track of everything is a piece of cake. Far from it, on both counts!

When my children were younger and I was new to homeschooling, I thought that it was important to be aware of the impression we gave to others because it reflected on homeschoolers and/or large families in general. And so when we'd dine out from time to time, we were careful to leave good tips, lest we leave a bad impression. Having the kids be nicely dressed and groomed we thought reflected well on our vocation. Speaking positively about my kids, besides being good for them, was also thought wise lest people be put off by the difficulties involved in our choice.

Now I can see another side to the question. I can see that sometimes being picture perfect (not that we ever ever were!) could reinforce for someone that they aren't suited to lots of kids or homeschooling, because they know they'd have a hard time keeping up. It can be a disservice to our fellow homeschool moms by putting pressure on them to be high achievers. If CD can keep house and home and educate her children all the while sewing all her family's clothes and being a gourmet cook, why can't I? I know moms who think something is wrong with them because they can't do it all, and they feel that they should be able to.

Some friends popped by my house one day to take the kids and me to the park for a surprise party. When one of the moms, a mother of 8 boys, saw my house, she exclaimed, "Oh your house makes me feel so good! It's like mine!" Which was to say a bit of a mess. But these moms had planned around that, and rather than risk embarrassing me by having everyone show up at my house to surprise me, they had the party at a park. I was loved for me, messy house and all, and not because I performed all of my duties well all of the time.

So I want to throw out this question: Is it more important to create a good impression and protect the image of the large, homeschooling family, or to give another permission to be human by sharing our own human imperfections with them? What do you think?

Juno

2008-01-01T20:46:00.001-05:00

I read Barbara Nicolosi's glowing review of Juno, among others, and decided I really wanted to see the film. Roger Ebert says of Juno that it is the year's best movie. A mere 91 minutes, the film is about Juno, a 16 year old who finds herself pregnant after an impromptu encounter with one of her best friends. She decides to find a couple who would like to adopt the baby. The dialogue is witty and sassy, but there are some traces of tragedy interlaced in this comedy.

One thing that clearly stands out, despite Juno's many references to "it" or the "thing" inside her, is that she is growing a baby. Indeed, the characters tear up at the first ultrasound that shows the head, the hands, and the little feet. Both Vanessa, the woman who hopes to adopt, and the baby's biological father, Paulie, show awe at feeling the baby kick. In this age of dehumanizing doublespeak that is careful never to refer to the pre-born as a baby, the excitement that such new life generates in the film is refreshing. The truth of life, and that pregnancy equals a new human life, is very much manifest, and that was great to see.

What wasn't so great to see, in my opinion, was a mere 16 year old who figures out what to do with her girlfriend, and only then tells her parents her plans. Nicolosi and others describe Juno's parents as wonderfully supportive, and they are, but where was their guidance in Juno's life in the first place? I know that teens are at the stage where they are becoming independent, and that many of today's teens would not welcome parental guidance. But isn't that a parent's job? I think that too many parents simply give up when the teen years roll around, and in doing so, they leave their young people with no moorings, no anchors in the unpredictable sea of life.

And that is the second thing that disturbed me in Juno: the lack of any foundation, any ethic, to which Juno could cling in the situation in which she finds herself. I don't think that movies need to be overtly religious to be good, or to express spiritual truths. But Juno ends up choosing to carry the child almost as "accidentally" as she conceives him. She says something about making a great sacrifice in doing so, but it is a remark that is an after-thought to the decision, not a guiding principle.

What was achingly clear is that Juno is struggling to make sense of life and love, and she is doing so mostly with the help of her fellow 16 year olds. Oh yes, there are a couple of touching scenes with her father. In one he instructs her that the most important thing in a relationship is to find someone who loves you for you. Yes, that's important. But there's no talk here of the transforming power of love, let alone the source of all love.

As Catholic parents, it is Krazyglue's and my responsibility to teach our children God's plan for marriage and family life. Long before they hit their teens, they ought to know that love begets babies. And then, as they get into the teen years, they learn from us that sex is for marriage and as such, is holy. When your life revolves around Christ, there is always a framework for figuring out the nuances.

As a snapshot of life in America, Juno is spot-on. And yes, it's good to see new movie makers and script-writers recognizing that a pregnancy is a baby, even if somewhat tenuously acknowledged as when Juno quips, "Pregnancy often leads to infants." The sadness of impermanent marriages is plain to see, too. But we need to be sure that we don't let the humor and sentimentality of Juno lull us into complacency regarding the underlying problem Juno faces in life, and which isn't solved in 91 minutes.

One final note: if you read Nicolosi's review, she says "Juno is for older teens and adults. It has a few bad words and the suggestion of teen sex, but is not crass or coarse." I beg to differ! It is just as crass and coarse as many a teen conversation taking place across America. If you homeschool to keep your teens from seeing condom demos, don't take them to see Juno.

To Share or Not to Share...

2007-12-31T20:46:00.000-05:00

I've been pondering Nancy Brown's post about Mother Teresa's outward cheerfulness even though she did not feel so inwardly, and in fact, for a long time she didn't feel God's presence at all. Nancy says she thinks this is saintly. In Blessed Mother Teresa, I have no doubt that it reflects heroic virtue.

But what about the rest of us? Are we to feign joy when we feel anything but? I will have to think more on this, but right off the bat, I'd say no. "The truth will set you free." I was once asked by a priest while on retreat to pick words I could live by, base my entire life on. That verse is what I chose then, and it is what I'd still choose.

Now I don't mean to say that we can never smile when we feel sad, never choose kind words when we feel angry. Indeed, a part of self-mastery is learning to do just that, to exercise our wills in favor of virtue. But I think that we also have to be wary of suppressing our feelings. Suppressed feelings don't just go away; in fact, they often erupt at the least convenient times or in much less than desirable ways. We have to be honest with ourselves, I think, about how we feel. And I do think Mother Teresa was doing that.

But here comes the thornier part: do we share those feelings? It might be virtuous to take a deep breath and carry on as though we were in no pain, had no anger, were not sad. But could it also be a gift to share with a friend our hurts, our fears, our doubts? If we are stoic, do we deny that friend the opportunity and gift of ministering to us in our need? Could it be a prideful thing to suck it up and act in a manner that hides our true feelings? Does that distance us from others, from our shared humanity with its times of frailty? Sharing what we truly feel inside is often a moment of exquisite vulnerablility and trust.

It is generally good to emulate the saints. But we also need to cultivate our relationship with Jesus, to ask Him what He wants of us, and to prayerfully discern that to which He is calling us. Which is to say, God could have been asking Blessed Mother Teresa to be cheerful in spite of interior dryness and desolation, whereas He might be asking us to reach out to others in our times of distress. We have to ask Him! And we have to be willing to listen for His answer, even wait on it.

Five More Days...

2007-12-20T21:09:00.000-05:00

Tonight we went to our parish Reconciliation Service at which there were 11 priests to hear confessions! What a blessing! As I was one of the last in line, I saw a lot of people after they received God's great mercy and I noticed something: most people came back to their pew smiling! I mean, really big, joyous smiles! Indeed, the 7 of us felt like celebrating this wonderful grace we'd received, and we broke our Advent fast and went out for ice cream. It seemed good and fitting in this third week of Advent.

Eight year old LM was positively jubilant as we left the church tonight. On the car ride home she remarked that avoiding sin was "like being on a diet, where you don't swallow want Satan wants you to." An apt description I think.

May our heavenly Father help me--and all of us--to stay on the sin-free diet, feasting on all the good things He has given us. Come, Lord Jesus!

Enchanted Still Has Me Smiling

2007-12-19T21:23:00.000-05:00

Krazyglue and I went to see the movie Enchanted, and it was, well, enchanting! Imagine: classical fairy tale and old-style musical-comedy, but with depth! Amy Adams was delightful as Giselle, a princess-to-be, who suddenly finds herself in New York City. Giselle is all goodness and cheer, and as she waits expectantly for her prince to rescue her, she helps others realize the goodness in their lives. And this is done without being sappy; in fact, Adams gives Giselle great authenticity. Or to use Roger Ebert's words, "effortless lovability." There is also a refreshing lack of political correctness. I have never even seen the Disney fairy tale films of the last 5-10 years as they aren't my cup of tea. Yet I'm so glad that I didn't miss Enchanted, and I can't wait for the kids to see it, too.

A Different (for me) Kind of Advent

2007-12-05T19:44:00.000-05:00

I'm basically a homebody. Oh, I have an adventuresome streak, but I thrive in time spent at home with my family. And I have no trouble staying home to work on things; in fact, I prefer to do that and will sometimes decline social activities because I have "so much to do." It's the Martha in me.

This Advent I feel called to step out of my comfort zone and to counter the busyness of the season with spending time with people, being truly present to them. It's a different kind of contemplation, but a form of it, none-the-less, as I devote my energies to seeing Christ in others and trying to reflect Him in my own being.

With a houseful of boys and only one daughter, most of the holiday preparation falls on me. If I work from now until Christmas Eve, I might get it all done! Instead, I'm accepting invitations:

Last Thursday I was asked if I could host a potluck dinner on Saturday for our newly formed small faith community at church. I said yes. And it was a very blessed evening of fellowship and intimate sharing, even though we've not been together long.

This weekend I am joining a dozen other Catholic homeschool moms for a get-away to central Ohio, to a bed & breakfast run by one of the mom's parents. We will meet for early morning Mass, then carpool to the B & B, and spend the day and night together, including going on a guided walking tour of 8 of Lancaster's historic churches. We'll have a gift exchange to cap off the day before retiring to a restful slumber. Or maybe not; it is a slumber party for moms, and whoever sleeps at slumber parties?! The next day we will go to Mass together, have a wonderful brunch, and drive back home.

I will return just in time to attend the Christmas party of our local diabetes support group Sunday! We have declined this invitation in the past, but this year we are going, to honor all those families who so bravely face the challenges of type 1 diabetes day in and day out.

The next weekend is yet another diabetes related holiday party. Depending on who attends, the hosts are the only people we may know at this one, and our association with them is mostly through email. But again, it is an opportunity to be other focused, to delight in the company of good people! The hosts of this party extended the invite to all those on a parents of children with diabetes email list which is international. We, in turn, said if nearby hotels weren't do-able for any family wishing to attend, they could camp out at our house. So far, two families have expressed an interest. I don't "know" either of them!

Now, running from party to party is standard fare for many at this time of year, but not for me. I'm very task-oriented, but this Advent I wanted to be relational. I wanted to focus on people. I wanted to show my children that what is important is being with others, not racing from store to store in search of perfect gifts.

And on the home front, I've resolved to be present to my children. For example, I'm helping them with their Christmas projects for their friends and one another when they ask, instead of putting them off, too busy with my own stuff. As a family we are reading Jotham's Journey again, and I am making time to discuss their other reading with them. Maybe all good moms do this, but I'm often too consumed with the business of running a household to take time out for such things, even though I know how valuable such time to talk is.

Mostly, I'm adopting a mindset that says, quite simply, "You are a gift to me." In this way, this Advent, I am contemplating (or trying to!) the Christ child within each one of us. I'm not sure how all the work will get done, but I feel confident that what needs to will get done. Mt 6:25-33 comes to mind:

Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you shall eat or what you shall drink, nor about your body what you shall put on...But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things shall be yours as well.

A Close Call

2007-12-04T10:40:00.000-05:00

I was editing my profile last night when I heard a terrible tumble from the stairs. Mr. Encyclopedia had fallen down a dozen oak steps! I found him laying on the tile floor perpendicular to the stairs screaming he needed ice. Where to put the cold pack? There were too many places hurting! When asked what happened and how did he fall, he said his feet had slipped forward out into the air and he bumped his way down the stairs hitting every step with with the back of his head. Thank God he was conscious and could move his hands and wiggle his toes! After the initial yell for ice, he was remarkably calm. But he was in tremendous pain from his head down his back. Krazyglue and I debated about taking him to Children's Hospital ourselves vs. calling for an ambulance. Mr. E started shivering and clutched at his stomach; we feared shock. Krazyglue carefully elevated his feet and covered him with a blanket. I dialed 911.

As I held his hand while we waited for the rescue squad, Mr. E remarked, "First Aid Class was right: when someone gets hurt, it does help to have your loved ones nearby," and smiled at me with his eyes. Pretzel and his sister, LM, knelt in the family room praying for their brother.

Mr. E was was blocking the front door but trying to move his torso in the slightest brought shooting pains. So Krazyglue had to open the garage for the paramedics to enter through our laundry room. We both sent a quick internal plea to the Heavens that they'd be able to make it through the narrow path to the door with their equipment. The back board they brought was surpisingly narrow (thank You, Jesus!) and they managed just fine. Once they'd secured Mr. E to the board, they were able to move him out of the way of the door and the gurney was waiting for him on the front porch. Thankfully, too, Children's Hospital was one of the choices we were given for where to take him, even though it is much farther from our house than at least 3 other hospitals. They let me ride with him to the hospital, albeit in the cab. Krazyglue followed in the family car.

Mr. Encyclopedia went straight to the Trauma Room and the hospital staff was very good with him. In response to the question "What happened to you?" Mr. E replied, "I fell down the stairs in an ugly manner." (Hmm, have I mentioned that this 10 year old is well-read?) The registration process was simple and was carried out in the room. (Why can't it be that simple when we go for blood work or for other less complicated reasons?!) After a neuro assessment, a new neck brace was applied and they gave Mr. E something for pain after which they took him to x-ray for neck and spine films.

Then we waited. My last time in the ER was with D Kid who had broken his wrist. We waited a long time after his x-rays, too, and I found out later it was because the chief resident was discussing with the other docs whether to take him right to surgery to set the fracture. So as the time wore on, I couldn't help but wonder what lay in store for Mr. E. "He doesn't have any fractures," came the good news at last! They had deliberately waited to observe him, so as to decide whether he ought to go home in the neck brace. He'd responded well to the pain medicine, so they said he didn't need to wear the collar. During our wait time, I'd found a big bump to the left of midline on the back of his head. They checked that out, and decided not to treat, but to send us home with the protocol for head injury. It seemed answered prayer that Mr. E had little pain except for that head bump.

Today he looks pale and has a headache. We figured out after we got home last night that because he'd been holding the railing with his right hand when he first slipped, the initial impact had been to the left side of his head and back. So today he's got some swelling on his upper left back and he's hurting a bit. I've called our pediatrician to see if the spine x-rays showed his rib cage just to be sure he hasn't cracked a rib. All in all, we are very grateful that Mr. E wasn't hurt worse. In our six and a half years in this house, no one has ever fallen on those oak stairs. Now we just have to hope (and pray!) that his head bump heals with no complications.

God certainly has a way of slowing us down (and making us pray!) at Advent! We've skipped today's swim lessons, and I think ice skating tomorrow will be put on hold, too. Just going to hang out at ye olde homestead and enjoy each other's company.

Our Advent Tree

2007-12-03T18:26:00.000-05:00

For many years we have done the straw-in-the-manger thing, where we fill a rustic basket (our make-do manger) with pieces of straw for each good deed done or sacrifice made during Advent. We've used both real straw and cut-out strips of yellow paper. The idea is to build a soft bed of hay for the infant Jesus, represented at our house by a baby doll.

Well, our kids are older, and this year we're trying something different: We're setting up our tree as an Advent tree, as we bought lots of purple ornaments at some ridiculously low price a few years back. And for every good deed or sacrifice made, the kids can hang an ornament. As Acrobat said, "So if the tree isn't pretty, it means we should be doing more!" You got it!

What if we run out of ornaments? Well, I hope we will! And then I think we'll make small bows out of purple and pink ribbons and place them on the tree. I'll be sure to post pictures later, when we've made some progress.

The Father Brown Reader

2007-11-28T12:37:00.000-05:00

I am reading Nancy C. Brown's

The Father Brown Reader right now. It's delightful! Krazyglue couldn't put it down last night, after I told him how much I enjoyed the first story. Nancy Brown has taken 4 favorites of G. K. Chesterton's mystery stories featuring the unassuming and wise Father Brown (no relation--LOL!) and adapted them for children. Her craftsmanship in doing so is superb! And the illustrations by Ted Schluenderfritz are just perfect for this volume.

I have already purchased two for Christmas gifts, and you can order autographed copies for those on your list by visiting Nancy Brown's blog Flying Stars. Be sure to see her November 23rd blog entry entitled Why is Chesterton for Children?

Imagine your kids telling your relatives how much they enjoy Chesterton!

Call Me Old-Fashioned...

2007-11-11T17:03:00.000-05:00

I still remember preparing for my First Holy Communion. The nuns insisted that we hold our open hands palm to palm, fingers pointed up. "Don't be lazy like some adults," they admonished, as they forbade us to interlace our fingers. It was made very clear that receiving Jesus was the best thing that could happen to us, and that our prayerful posture was the least we could do to show Him reverence. But I confess, I eventually became one of those "lazy adults."

And then came the challenge of keeping active children focused at Mass. For many years, I held the nursling, while Krazyglue (my DH) helped the toddler keep interested by redirecting his attention and explaining quietly what was happening. We brought religious kids' books for the next one up, in his "church bag". It was when they were starting to pray the Mass with us, that I remembered my training and instructed them to fold their hands in prayer just as I had as a young girl. "Fingers pointed to heaven," I told them.

Fingers pointed to heaven... That was almost the title of this post, because that is the habit that we still have, and never a Mass goes by that I am not glad for it! Through the years it has minimized all sorts of fidgeting, and most importantly, prevented sibling wars over, "He's touching me!" or, "He keeps leaning his hands on my part of the pew!" Oh yes, occasionally I still have to remind them to point their fingers to heaven, as they get sloppy from time to time. It's actually a very good thing, too, because those whispered words serve as a reminder to us all on why we're there: the Mass points to heaven and the Eucharist gives us the graces we need along the way. We're supposed to be praying the Mass, and our hands -- fingers pointed to heaven -- keep us attentive to the task. Old-fashioned? Maybe; but definitely worth doing!

Why Connie's Daughter?

2007-11-10T18:02:00.001-05:00

I love my mom. And I haven't had the privilege of telling her that in person in 31 years, as she died at Thanksgiving when I was in my very early twenties. When I was too young to know much and thought I knew everything. My dad had died when I was seven and so my mom and I were very close. I was her "spittin' image" and proud to be "Connie's daughter." But as often happens with mothers and daughters, we grew apart when I was in my teens.

My mom was troubled at that time, and so I set out to make a life of my own. I was determined to not make the same mistakes that she had; this was something in which she'd encouraged me at every turn. Along the way, I shed the identity of "Connie's daughter." I was my own person, or so I thought.

My first son was born in December of the year following my mom's death. Wow, I never knew...I never knew what it must have been like for my mom to be a mom! My appreciation of her has only grown through the years. I have a lot more kids than my mom; I think she'd have really enjoyed her grandchildren! I know she would have adored my husband.

It's been years since anyone has called me "Connie's daughter." Probably most of my moms' friends have now joined her at the heavenly banquet, so there's really no one save a couple of distant aunts and uncles who might think of her when seeing me. But I think of her often. I am deeply grateful to my mother for handing on the Faith, and especially giving me a love of Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. I'm so glad she shared with me her passion for literature and good music! She was a connoiseur of the English language; maybe there's a gene for that: my eldest was an English major and two more of my sons aspire to be writers.

Calling myself "Connie's daughter" is a way to pay tribute to my mom. It's a way to make her more present and to acknowledge the role she has had--in life and in death--in shaping who I am. It seems fittng as I embark on blogging to once again embrace being Connie's daughter.