In Honor of My Mom

I was only technically an adult when my mom died. I was 22 and had only just begun “adulting” as they say today. Still such a child, and at the time, tight in someone’s clutches, but that is a story for another time. Today I write in honor of my mother.

I haven’t sentimental memories to call upon on this 41st anniversary of her passing. My mom had a hard life, made harder by her choices. She was only 11 when her mom died, so she, too, had to wing it on this journey. It was clear that I was too much for her- too much will, too much exuberance, too much a challenge. I grew up vowing never to make the mistakes my mom had made, but I plunged in just the same. And she, exemplifying “tough love” before it had a name, said, “You made your bed, now lie in it.” 

So when I feel melancholy at this time of year, it isn’t a longing for a return to good ol’ days, or from missing a mom who could always make everything better. It is, perhaps, the sorrow at what never was, and for what might have been, had she not left this earth so early in my life. Despite hers and my precarious relationship, I know that my mom would have loved my children, would have beamed in pride at having 11 grandchildren between my brother and me. Maybe, if she’d had the chance in later life, she’d have been healed of the wounds of her childhood. Regardless, it would have been a blessing to my children to have known her.

Despite the lack of cherished memories or warm fuzzies, my mom did give me the greatest gift in life, after life itself. She imparted the Faith to me, and for that I will be eternally grateful. We believers in Jesus, and in the Catholic Church He founded, know too well that what Mother Church teaches is true and that the world knows not its Savior. There but for the grace of God… My mom did not receive Holy Communion for most of her adult life (having not been married in the Catholic Church), but she still went to Mass every Sunday. She reinforced at home what I was taught at Catholic school, that Jesus was truly present in the Eucharist. She believed in miracles and that the saints were her friends, who interceded for her at especially critical times. She prayed her rosary so much that its beads were worn down.

She also did her best to help those less fortunate than she. Thus we took in a young single woman in need of a home, the daughter of one of my late father’s former associates. She regularly passed things on to those in need. She sold our house to a nearby family, actually loaning them the down payment from proceeds of my father’s life insurance. A widow who made a meager income as a bank teller, she also loaned (actually gave) money she could have used to her step-sister’s daughter who was in dire straits at the time. She reasoned that one of her aunts had loaned her money one time, so she should, too. She was generous, and it was a natural outflowing of her faith in God, of her belief in the teachings of the Church.

So I have much to be thankful for this Thanksgiving weekend. Not for a mom who taught me to cook, nor gave me self-confidence. Not for an easy life, unmarred by tragedy. Not for a big extended family who are my roots. No, even my only brother has departed this earthly life, as have my mom’s two siblings. What I have is a love of God Who I know loves me. That is the most important thing of all. And I credit my long gone parents - especially my mom - for making sure that in the midst of our poverty, I had that treasure.

Mare's War

I came by my copy of Mare's War through winning a blog giveaway by its author, Tanita S. Davis. I have always wanted to write a review, but it was such an exquisite portrayal of life in the African-American Battalion of the Women's Army Corps, I knew I couldn't do it justice. A poor excuse, I know, for not giving the acclaim this historical novel is due.

Imagine you are a teenage girl with plans of your own for the summer when you find out you're going on a road trip - a very long road trip - with both your sister and your grandmother, who is anything but a "normal" grandmother. Marey Lee Boylen drives a "sporty red car" and "wears flippy auburn wigs, stiletto shoes, and padded push-up bras." Oh, and she smokes. Even though she knows she isn't supposed to. She might seem a tad far-fetched, until, through the course of the road trip to a family reunion, she tells the girls her fascinating story of leaving her less-than-ideal home in Alabama to join the Women's Army Corps and of the adventures she had during World War II. It was a harsh life, but Mare shows her indomitable spirit and Tali and Octavia aren't the only ones who will gain an appreciation for the contribution of African-American women to the war effort. Readers can't help but appreciate the sacrifice and amazing story of those women who served so nobly in an age when prejudice was normative. This is history with which we should all become acquainted, and Davis has packaged it in a vehicle (pun intended!) which entices the reader to hop in and hang on!

Tali, 17, and Octavia, 15, are typical suburban California teens and Marey Lee's story of war time ("then") is interspersed between chapters devoted to the "now" of the threesome's cross-country travels, told from the vantage point of Octavia. Adding to Octavia's amusing recount of their journey are replications of postcards that Tali sends to friends and family back home. Their journey proves to be more than just a road trip, but I'll let you discover that when you read the book.

And you really must read the book! February is Black History Month, for all of us, not just African-Americans. Because Blacks have shaped our shared history. You can't help but admire these women who gave so much to serve a country that denied them equality. Tanita S. Davis has gifted us with this story that celebrates what is good about that history without glossing over what was bad. What's even more remarkable is that she gives us this story without making helpless victims of those who suffered horrendous injustices. In doing so, she empowers all of us to move forward from that time, not in unhealthy denial, but with truth and strength.

A Lesson in Love

Here's a little morning inspiration from Fr. Rob Jack, which he posted on his fb page:

When Thomas Aquinas was a student in Cologne, his classmates called him the Dumb Ox. Albert the great, his teacher, remarked to them that "one day, the bellow of that Ox will shake the world." While St. Thomas is known for his theological teaching, the source of that teaching is his great love for Jesus Christ. Love for God always produces great things in the life of the one who loves. That is St. Thomas' lesson for everyone. St. Thomas Aquinas, the Angelic Doctor, pray for us.

Notice it doesn't say being the top of your class, or mastering a zillion different subjects makes one be able to produce great things. It isn't about choosing the best math program or doing math at all. It is love of God that produces great things in our lives. And that love is the aim of our homeschooling. "For what does it profit a man to gain the whole world and lose his soul?" They aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, but I'm sure glad that when it comes to homeschooling my kids, my most important job is to impart the love of God to them, and help them develop love for the Trinity. I can get a tutor for the math if need be. ;)

 Picture Credit: http://www.famousphilosophers.org/thomas-aquinas/

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The Hunger Games

I thought I'd chime in on these books since I have now read them all. This post is response to criticisms of The Hunger Games made on a local homeschool list. Please keep in mind my analysis is by no means complete or all-inclusive. The books are too complex for me to take in everything in one reading. Of course, each parent needs to decide for themselves what they will and won't read in their families. And I think we should all have our choices respected and not have our faith or intelligence questioned if we happen to allow a book that someone else doesn't. :) So here are my two cents:

I do not think the books are at all as I've heard first person shooter video games described. (Note: I have no experience with those games!) Nor do I think the reader is meant to be entertained by the killing. (I agree, I would find that sick!) The violence in the trilogy is found to be despicable. The idea of teens killing other teens is loathsome, and those characters in the story who find it entertaining are variously portrayed as evil-minded or dehumanized, out of touch with the dignity of the individual. Parallels are drawn between the story and the Ancient Romans. Sacrificing one or two people for the supposed good and punishment of all is also criticized and its short-sightedness is pointed out. There is a difference between freely giving up one’s life for another--making that choice oneself--and being forced to do so.

I’m puzzled by the commentary on my homeschool list that found no Christian themes in the book(s) because I was reminded of the Jews talking about letting Jesus be killed for the good of all, but that Jesus said no one takes His life, but that He lays it down freely. One of the things that makes Katniss the heroine is that she freely offers to go to the Hunger Games in her sister’s place, to spare her sister. There are other examples of characters showing such compassion and/or love for others.

Something that really surprised me in the books is that procreation is linked with marriage! How often do we see that in popular culture?! A character expresses not wanting to get married because she doesn’t want to have kids subject to the Hunger Games. In today’s post-Christian society (our present day society) wouldn’t people just contracept? That isn’t an option in the Hunger Games. Elsewhere marriage is recognized as something very special, and is celebrated by all, even under very adverse conditions. And pregnancy is viewed with respect, albeit such as can be given in such a world as the Hunger Games. That even those most hardened can be touched at the thought of carrying one’s dearly loved husband’s child is a testimony to truth, no matter how messed up a society is.  

My take on the books is that they are meant to be disturbing, because the author is asking us to think about what it might be like to live in a totalitarian society. She is also asking us to think about whether a select few, independent of the people they govern, can make wise decisions. She shows a connection between the decision to treat people like animals on a large scale, and disordered appetites on a personal level. She takes a stand against those who would want an eye for an eye. She asks the reader to look at what motivates rescuers. (I don’t want to be more specific because I don’t want to have spoilers.)

Back to the heroine-- Catholic author (and Steubenville grad) Regina Doman gives talks across the country to aspiring Catholic writers (at homeschool conferences and writers’ workshops) and she says the challenge they face is to create protagonists, “good guys”, who are appealing, with whom we can identify, who are exciting, etc.. She points out that much of modern literature makes the bad guys far more exciting and interesting than the good guys. (I heard her speak a couple of years ago at the Dayton Catholic Homeschool Conference.) Anyway, I think the author of the HG trilogy succeeds--for the most part--in achieving this in her Katniss character. (And no, I don’t know what faith, if any, that Suzanne Collins has. Truth has universality.) Katniss is wounded, but not defeated. She doesn’t subscribe to societal norms of beauty and popularity, but is none-the-less, attractive. She is strong and independent and yet still able to acknowledge her need for others. She is compassionate and respects the dignity of others. She is appalled and sickened at what she is asked/forced to do in the Games. She has experienced great hardship and loss, but she still has an innocence in the ways of the commercialized world in which she is thrust. She is tough but not hardened.

I think these books have *very mature* themes and are not for children, as they present ideas that I think are beyond the intellectual capabilities of most children. And the third book has a mention in it of forced prostitution. Very sensitive readers of any age might find them too intense. IMHO, teens are going to vary a lot in their ability to digest and understand these books. So my recommendation is to read them yourselves to decide; you know your child/teen best. And yes, I agree with a previous poster that we can learn about the ideas presented in the trilogy in other ways, and through studying history. I also agree with the poster who pointed out that literary devices are also used to convey truths and there is a need for both. But just as someone cautioned me that Jeff Cavins’ Bible Timeline might not be appropriate for children because it discusses the more mature Bible stories, so, too, a parent must choose when and if to introduce literature with such violence and mature themes.

And now for a very important caveat: Mercy killing and suicide come up without consideration of their moral implications. The topics are not treated lightly but as an ultimate resort. Never-the-less, the characters, in considering suicide and mercy killing, don’t discuss the moral implications of such actions. That was very disappointing to me. I think suicide/mercy killing is presented as a viable action only in the most dire circumstances (which don’t include the appalling virtual slavery that most of the citizens live under,) but the lack of a Catholic worldview is evident in this aspect of the trilogy. Given the books popularity, I think it’s important to challenge this sort of thinking (so prevalent in our modern day culture) that preventing suffering can be a reason to end a life. It isn’t.

Also, the morality of Katniss wanting to kill someone for revenge isn’t addressed. And I’m not sure that it really is revenge per se. But she expects someone to be executed for their crimes and she wants to be the one to do it because of the harm that this person has caused to so many, including her and her family. Whereas Katniss expresses distaste/disgust with the Hunger Games tributes having to kill each other, and feels anguish about so many people’s deaths that she feels were because of her, I don’t remember her questioning the taking of this one life of a “bad guy”. I think she feels justified in wanting that person’s death. It reminds me of today, when not infrequently the loved ones of murder victims express not feeling closure or satisfaction or whatever until the perpetrator has been executed.

I don’t know about you, but we’ve encountered quite a number of people who have read these books. I hope to be able to engage them on the above observations I’ve made. Since they are being widely read, I think it is important that these books be discussed, especially with a Catholic worldview in mind. And, of course, I will be interested to learn what others take away from their reading of them.

The Price of Loving

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

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

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

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

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

H/T Mark Shea

I've Got Blogging on My Mind

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

My Granddaughter

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

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

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

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?

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!

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!

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

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...

,,,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