whatever it takes

Oh sure -- there's plenty to write about:

• the elder lad's First Holy Communion and eighth birthday
• an amazing Day of Service at our home parish
• summer adventures close to home 
• minor victories of the prayer variety
• ongoing efforts to be a better steward and help our bambini do likewise
• creative outlets I've been utilizing at the expense of this chronicle
• the continued challenge of managing minute-to-minute while taking the long view
• other random musings loyal readers have come to expect from me

But for now, this will have to do: homemade chocolate granola.  Easy, tasty, healthy, and a whole lot less expensive than the stuff in the grocery store.  It ranks right up there with our favorite oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, but healthier and more versatile.

Check it out at Foodie Proclivities!
(and stay tuned for more about those other things up there)

the secret of success

This is a special day for my beloved's family, for it is the anniversary of his grandparents.  He is their eldest grandchild, born on their 25th wedding anniversary.  That was a while ago, and a lot has happened since then. 

Sixty-plus years of marriage do not elapse without struggle.  Arriving at this milestone requires each spouse’s commitment every day to living the vocation to which God has called them.  This daily acceptance of God’s will is a choice each spouse makes to work for the good of the other, to love each other as God loves each person.  When asked how they accomplished this feat of longevity, my beloved's grandmother is quick to note that prayer is essential to the equation.  Without a prayerful perspective, the ins and outs of daily life weigh heavily on shoulders with the best of intentions but little foundation upon which to rest.  

The pair who now call me their granddaughter (omitting the "in-law" part) continue to give witness to the power of faith, hope, and love in action by their daily commitment to prayer and self-sacrifice, using words only when necessary to explain with great humility the great blessing they have received of so many years spent hand in hand serving the Lord.  Built on the foundation of sacramental marriage, this couple (like so many others) has seen its share of happiest joys, deepest sorrows, and the gamut of emotions and experiences in between.   Their family and friends rejoice with them on the happy occasion of their anniversary and thank God for the blessing of knowing and learning from this couple as we do.    

Stories like this one serve as inspiration to those wondering how to make marriages last so long or how to keep children close to the faith.  My beloved's grandparents and other long-time married couples like them know the accomplishment is really a blessing that, along with the blessing of relative good health for both spouses, comes through having allowed themselves to be the instruments through which God works out his plan, by cooperating with the Lord through an attitude of self-giving, and by taking up the crosses big and small that the Lord sees fit to place in their paths every day.  This approach has made the Earthly journey the couples have traveled together an altogether happy one, but their ultimate goal is to see each other in Heaven. 

Twenty-some odd questions: 6yo younger lad

A couple of weeks ago, our tender-hearted, fun-loving, precious younger lad earned another candle on his (King Boo of Super Mario Brothers) birthday cake.  He remains imaginative, thoughtful, sensitive, generous, cheerful, friendly, and enthusiastic.  In the past year, he has grown taller, kinder, sillier (if that's possible), rougher, and keener than ever on being a valiant young squire.  How blessed we are to have him in our midst.

***

Some of his preferences have changed, but his sweet nature is still his hallmark. 

How does it feel to be six?
good [his stock answer to most open-ended questions, by the way]

What's the best thing about being six?
opening presents

What do six-year-olds do?
go to first grade

What's the most important thing you've learned in life so far?
being good to God -- not being an evil person

What do you like most about yourself?
being a redhead

self portrait

Are you a morning person or evening person?
I'm a morning person!

What do you like learning about?
how to play Star Wars

Do you know what God's plan is for your life?
to be a good person

What's your favorite thing to do with Daddy?
play

What's your favorite thing to do with Mama?
ride in the car... to the ice cream shop.

What do you like most about our family?
a lot

The lad's Kindergarten teacher conducts interviews as well.

What do you like to do with our family?
I like going to the zoo.

What are some of your hobbies?
playing battle

What's your favorite color?
red

What's your favorite TV show?
Wild Kratts

What's your favorite movie?
the pod racer scene from Star Wars

What is your favorite food?
cinnamon rolls

What is your favorite dessert?
mint chocolate chip ice cream

Your favorite thing to wear?
my Mario overalls

What sports do you like to play?
baseball, soccer, basketball... that's pretty much all the sports I know how to play.

What's your favorite thing about Kindergarten?
nap time because I like to read my Star Wars book

What's your favorite subject in school?
PE

What do you want to be when you grow up?
an army soldier

May the Lord bless you all the days of your life, dear lad, and preserve both your sunny disposition and your zeal for life and the world around you.  May he guard your heart and fan into flame the desire you have to serve him as he calls you to. And may you always remember how precious you are to us.

good and evil

The two-and-a-half-year-old younger lass has a way with words:

"My eyes are choc'late." (referring to their luscious dark color)

"Bad boy!" (directed at her sister)

Every time the latter zinger is hurled, one of us always responds (even if it's not quite the "teachable moment" yet), "she's not a boy, and she's not bad."  Under normal circumstances, the younger lass *does* know that her sister is a girl like herself, but in moments of upset, that crusher is her biggest gun.  She picked it up from a sibling who shall remain nameless known for using it as a sort of heat-seeking missile against his brother.  In such cases, a similar response is given about the lad not being bad (laying aside the gender confusion). 

I'm not sure how this epithet came into being, since neither my beloved nor I employ it ourselves in the course of correcting inappropriate behavior on the part of our bambini.  Nonetheless, these fighting words persist and still sting, even though we are quick to say "God made [your brother] good.  He's not bad," and go on to talk about how we all make mistakes in the form of bad choices now and again, but that we are essentially good people -- even the sibling that has just pressed another's hot button.

As adults, we probably don't go around calling other adults names like "bad boy!", but we'd probably be fibbing if we didn't acknowledge at least once thinking to ourselves something along those lines (or worse).  We might even go so far as to think of a particular person as "evil," especially when considering the track record of a person who clearly has little respect for others to the point of destroying them literally or figuratively. 

It is contrary to our Catholic faith to think of people as evil.  God made us good.  He gave us free will, and sometimes we make bad choices from which evil has its way.  We can be under the influence of evil, and we struggle mightily against the effects of original sin, but we can also choose to do good (however difficult this may be) and have recourse to the grace we receive at Baptism and through the sacraments to live uprightly. 

Halfway through this Lenten season, we are far enough on the journey to Easter to have gained a little perspective since Ash Wednesday when some of our Lenten practices began in earnest.  God willing, we have come to recognize some ways in which evil has insinuated itself between us and the God who loves us.  With this reminder of pure, perfect love to encourage us, we dare to believe in our inherent good.

taking notes

close-to-six-year-old younger lad to his sister the four-year-old elder lass,
with whom he is usually a jovial and willing playmate
(even when the game suggested is playing house):
"Why do you like to play mom?"

elder lass: "because you get to have a purse"

In typical fashion, the four-year-old elder lass has zeroed in on an aspect of the world around her and made it the linchpin of her carefully-considered plans.   As a mother, which she wants to be, she'll tote a purse around (likely with several books and who knows what else, like her own mother) -- but she does that already.

The elder lass at four years old has a very basic, age-appropriate understanding of how mamas are built by God to care for babies.  Realizing how closely the lass is watching me, the other women in her life, and her young girl friends (and taking notes, as evidenced by the purse reference, among others), I am ever mindful of my own attitudes, habits, and comments about myself and others.  I'm also humbled to think of imperfect I am, how prone I am to impatience even as I try to handle sticky situations with humor and fortitude.  I hope she and her siblings grow to be better at that than I am.

Yes, I do know she is four years old.  Remember I take a long view.

Should the Lord call the lasses to be mothers someday, I know they will draw from many sources (including the legacy their mother leaves for them) in approaching their journeys, which likely will not be exactly the same as my own.  As they seek to understand themselves and what roles they are called to play in this world, they will find many pundits -- not all of them trustworthy -- all too willing to supply them with information about what it means to be a woman nowadays.  Thankfully, we have recourse to a wealth of good, insightful, and spiritually-sound resources to help them wade through the static.

Just as Christ is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow, so too are mothers who are seeking to care for the children entrusted to them both physically and spiritually.  The love we have for our children is a reflection of God's love for us. When we submit to the Lord's will and seek to conform ourselves more closely to it every day, the grace that flows freely is that which makes a job well done possible. 

I pray all our bambini will grow and flourish in the knowledge of God's love for each of them through the care they receive from our hands, so that they might in turn someday lead their little ones to Christ. 

the ultimate gift

At the end of January we observed Catholic Schools Week, one devoted nationwide to celebrating the unique gift that is a Catholic education.  After much discernment and continued prayer, we made the decision a few years ago to enroll our bambini in a parish-based parochial school for a number of reasons, chief among them being this particular school's faithful witness to the message of Christ as evidenced by its commitment to teaching Gospel values by example and living them in love.   While the academics taught at the school are first-rate, to have the reinforcement of a community actively seeking to live in accordance with God's law as we tend to the formation of our children's souls -- always by God's grace and with his help -- is priceless.

This was not the easy choice for us, but we feel it is the right one for our family.  Our bambini are thriving at this school, and they show an ever-increasing love for the Lord and consideration of other people, which we understand are the Lord's two greatest commandments.  We hope and pray this trend continues as the bambini grow to maturity, but maybe someday one or more of them will, to be blunt, chuck it all either by a willful departure from the faith or by an lukewarm apathy that creeps up over time.   There are plenty of stories of such alumni.

The pastor emeritus of the parish school often still presides at school Mass.  More than once I have heard him speak in reference to the gift that the students are receiving in the form of their Catholic education.  He always goes on to stress the importance of the students taking ownership of the gift they are being given and making it their own, carrying it with them, nurturing the seeds of faith their parents, pastors, and educators are working to plant every day, and guarding against the temptation toward laziness in the all-important matter of faith.

We can go to great lengths in the name of passing the faith on to our children, including providing access to a Catholic education for them (whether that's at a Catholic school, a  public school supplemented by parish-based faith formation classes, or home school), being active in a faith community, and living each day visibly seeking the Lord's will, all of which we know can heavily influence how the bambini filter all the messages they hear and apply them to their own lives. None of it will guarantee, however, that our bambini will ultimately become men and women of faith themselves.  That gift comes from God himself, and has to be sought, claimed, and lived by each person.

I pray the Lord will fan into flame the sparks of desire within our bambini and all God's children to know, love, and serve him in this life so as to be with him in the next.

crickets chirping

As this virtual space has fallen dormant (again) over the past three months, a similar phenomenon has played out in real life.  For those faithful readers of mine (God bless them) who keep checking to see if this is the day I've clicked "publish" to post something -- anything -- since that last bit of good advice from the younger lad, I am grateful.  Thanks for sticking with me.  

***

Have you ever offered to help only have to your gesture ignored?  Not even ignored, but maybe politely noted, then not acted upon?  

This has happened to me more than once, and for the most part I've been able to cultivate a certain detachment that if verbalized would sound something like "here's what I'm offering.  You don't want it?  Fine.  Moving on..."

I've struggled to maintain this detachment recently when, once again, I offered to help when I saw that I could.  For whatever reason, what I was offering wasn't what the other party was looking for.  They didn't come right out and say it; they thanked me but then didn't get back to me on the offer for a while.  Maybe they didn't want my help.  Maybe they forgot.  Maybe they figured the offer stood (which it does). 

Maybe it wasn't about me at all.  

As I stewed in my juices cooking up reasons why I wasn't hearing back on the offer, I began to have an awareness that I was making it more about me than about the gift I was offering, which I truly meant as a gift.  Once I had this realization, I began to think more about my reasons for making the offer.

Was it to fill a need I saw?
Definitely yes.

Was it to fulfill a need of mine?
Yes to this also.

Was it to draw attention to myself?
I hate to think so, but maybe a little, given how much I'm letting it bother me.

In light of this last less-than-flattering thought, I began to pray for the grace to let go of any ambition I may have had lurking behind the offer (which I earnestly made with a sincere desire to help) and leave it all up to the Lord.  Maybe it just wasn't God's will that they take me up on the offer.  If he wanted me to serve him in this particular way, I knew he'd make it happen.  If he didn't, then I needed to accept that and pray for wisdom to discern his will for me here and now. 

Waiting on someone else to respond to some gesture of mine leaves me open to the awkward silence of no response -- what some might refer to as "crickets chirping" -- as in quiet enough to hear those critters that give me the heebie-jeebies serenading their sweeties.

This goes for prayer as well.  While it may seem our prayers are going unanswered, that all we're hearing is crickets chirping, such is not the case.  The answer to prayer does not come on our time table or even in terms we expect.  Answers can be found, however, as we "keep turning the cards over" as my dad would say, as life unfolds day by day.

In the particular case I describe, I have had to level with the Lord by letting him know what he already knows, that I very much wish for something specific to happen, but that even more than that I wish to do his will -- even if it means something other than my desire being fulfilled in this particular circumstance.  I trust that all things will work out according to God's plan, in God's time.

temperamental, are we?

Navigating the murky waters of mothering four young, distinctive souls, I learned ago that no one method of approach works for every child. This is largely because every child is different, as nearly any parent of more than one child would acknowledge. Each child is unique and special, and each one is "wired" a little differently. This is the Lord's doing, as he has a specific plan and purpose for every life he wills into being.

With that in mind, I have been doing some reading (and re-reading) about the four classical temperaments and how to discern the defining characteristics of these temperaments in ourselves and those we know and love. I was first introduced to this idea which has its roots in ancient Greek medicine by a book called The Temperament God Gave You by Art Bennett and his wife Laraine. They've since authored The Temperament God Gave Your Spouse and The Temperament God Gave Your Kids. What I like most about these books is how the Bennetts take an ancient yet (one that many other researchers and theorists still utilize in their own work) and draw upon the writings of more recent sources as well as modern research in their application of Church teaching and the quest for virtue as a part of the Christian's journey toward heaven. 

Temperament is not the same things as personality.  Temperament is one of the factors in one's personality. Each of the four temperaments (choleric, melancholic, sanguine, and phlegmatic) has distinctive markers. Most people are a blend of one or two of the temperaments with one being predominant, but we can have characteristics of all the temperaments or cultivate skills that are inherent in a temperament other than our own.

Through the lens of faith we can think of these temperamental characteristics as the ways in which God crafted each of us in order to fulfill the purpose he has for our lives. We are not locked into the confines of our temperament's parameters; many other factors can influence our behavior. Our temperaments are simply how we feel about and react to people and situations by default. We can choose to behave differently, however, and sometimes we should.  Understanding these various factors is immensely helpful when it comes to tending to the temporal and spiritual needs of those entrusted to our care.

In a family, it's likely there are different temperaments interacting with each other.  God does this intentionally to help each member of the family, each with his or her own God-given identity and temperament, grow in virtue by strengthening both the things that come easily and those that do not. We are called to be patient with each other even as we challenge each other to overcome the weaknesses that are the flip side to our many positive traits, always mindful of the presence of Christ in each of us.

Each of us is a creation unique and precious to the Lord. We are not meant to all be the same, to handle things in the same way or experience life exactly as another person does. When I take the time to know myself better through prayer and discernment, including studying such time-tested ideas as the four temperaments in a faith-informed way, I am better able to be live each day as my true self, the one God created and calls me to be.

humble pie

A few days ago a woman walked into the coffee shop where my mother, sister, lassies, and I were snagging some liquid propulsion before picking up the lads from school. The woman had a much deeper than expected voice and asked for a cup of water, which the barista brought out to her.

After flopping down in the easy chair next to me, she said, "I'm giving free manicures today.". I thanked her but told her truthfully that we would be leaving in a few minutes. She took the disappointment in stride and began to rummage through the few plastic shopping sacks she had brought in with her. She offered me a bottle of nail polish from one of the sacks, "for the road," she said. It was then that I noticed the polish on her own nails, done not quite exactly within the usual boundaries. She went on to give me another bottle of (green) nail polish and two mint candies. I thanked her again and bid her farewell, as it was time for us to get going.

During this encounter, while truthfully a little uneasy near this woman who seemed maybe a little off somehow, I had the strongest sense that I was to show her the utmost kindness and respect, including receiving the items she so generously offered me and thanking her for doing so.

How difficult is it for us to accept the generosity of others? Sometimes very much so. Whether it's the offer of a homemade meal during a time of crisis, illness, or happy upheaval such as following the birth of a baby, or help tending to or transporting children from time to time, or some other sort of non-monetary aid given freely, something trips us up in accepting such things.

For some people, it is so much easier to be the giver rather than the receiver of these types of gifts. We are happy to do so and truly want to help others in need, be they friends, relatives, or strangers. For people of faith, we see it as part of living out our Baptismal vows or at least being Christ-like in giving generously of our time and talent in the service of others.

This is all well and good, but when others attempt to do the same for us, some of us (I include myself in this and know and love several other people who would fit this bill, but I won't name names or point fingers.) are quick to say, "thanks, but I'll do it myself," or "no thank you, we're managing just fine.". We politely decline maybe because we don't want to impose on anyone or add to anyone else's already full plates, but in turning down such offers we deny our well-intentioned friends and loved ones (or even perfect strangers) the opportunities to be conduits of Christ's grace and mercy to us, which can be a source of blessing not only to us but to those who wish to serve us as well.

People who volunteer in various service roles often say they "get more out it" than the people they serve. Framing it this way might make it a little easier to allow someone else to help us once in a while or show us extraordinary generosity beyond what we think we deserve.

We may think we're slacking off or mooching or being lazy or somehow otherwise not taking care of our own responsibilities, but somewhere in there is a tinge of pride, where it's all about me.

It's *not* all about me.

I may have a lot to manage, and through continual discernment and in faith I trust that it is God's will for me to have a lot to manage, but he doesn't expect me to have it all figured out all at once or even to do it all by myself. Although it is humbling to accept assistance from someone else, there is grace in such humility, and more grace where that comes from for the asking.

When we allow people to help lighten our loads, we cooperate with Christ in the bestowing of grace upon those who are serving us. Just as I desire to be a reflection of Christ's light and love to the people he places in my midst, there are others who are similarly motivated. Let us not be hasty to close the door in Christ's face when he wishes to bless both us and someone else with a chance to be his hands, feet, and beautiful face.

(not) helpless

A few weeks ago, wildfires blazed across a swath of land not far from my hometown.  While the town itself was not threatened, the countryside and the homes, pastures, and outbuildings dotting the land were.  Many people were evacuated when it became apparent that the fires were posing serious threats to their property (and persons).  Among the people affected were lifelong friends who are family to us.  They were notified of the danger as soon as it looked like the fires might threaten them, and they began to take precautions and make preparations to evacuate.  As the fires approached, they tried to protect their property by dousing it with water as long as electricity powered their water well.  Ultimately, their home was spared, though their neighbors were among the many who were not as fortunate.

With a decent amount of warning, those in the path of the fires worked with emergency personnel to combat the fires and try to minimize damage.  Many who were not directly affected stood at the ready, wanting to help somehow yet feeling utterly helpless in the face of convergent wildfires.  Those of us who don't live in the area anymore couldn't take in displaced homeowners or drop off provisions for firefighters or seemingly *do* anything but wait -- and pray.  We did both. 

I'm sure each of us has at one time or another felt helpless to make a positive change to a sticky or seemingly hopeless situation.  As a parent, there are plenty of times when I've felt helpless -- and I'm supposed to be the mom!  In the seven-year history of my motherhood, there have already been many times when I've felt unable to be the one to control steer a situation to a peaceful, happy ending.  This is the precipice of a slippery slope toward despair unless I channel the mounting stress and anxiety into prayer -- from basic utterances of distress and pleas for mercy to longer vigils of formal or stream-of-consciousness prayers on behalf of other people undergoing trials of whatever magnitude.  This move from figurative or literal hand-wringing to a posture of prayer is something anyone can do to help themselves or someone else. 

Senseless tragedies happen every day.  Natural disasters will have their ways.  Illnesses afflict us or our loved ones.  Things change in the blink of an eye.  We have no way of knowing what tomorrow -- or even today -- will bring.  When it seems we are helpless, may the Lord grant us clarity of mind to seek his assistance for ourselves or those around us, be they right here with us or off in some far-flung place.   The result may or may not be what we expect or desire, but with enough time, perspective, perseverance in prayer, and grace, may we eventually come to understand on some level how such dramatic events can be part of God's way of drawing us closer to him through circumstances that seem or are beyond our control.

Godsends

Following yesterday's post about taking necessary measures to ensure the overall health of a primary caregiver, I wish to backtrack even farther to two (almost three now) Sundays ago.  St. Paul is writing to the Corinthians, explaining the source of his strength in spite of some uphill battles he's fighting.  That source is the Lord's grace. 

"...My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness."

--2 Cor 12:9

Were I to tally the number of times I felt unequal to the task of caring for four closely-spaced children, I think the number might be astronomical.  However could I, one person with two hands, meet all the simultaneous needs when flying solo?  Even trusting that the Lord wouldn't allow for circumstances that he and I couldn't handle together, the plain truth remains that I haven't grown any more limbs along with the multiple children to corral and hold, though I did have recourse to a third arm for a long time when each of our bambini was an infant. Plenty of times I considered it a Godsend.

As much as I may want to be everything to everyone, that's not realistic -- or even reasonable.  I'm just one person -- a sinful, imperfect one at that.  The young lives entrusted to my care need much more than I as one person can give them, but the Lord knows that and -- I trust -- makes up the difference between my hard-working best effort toward meeting the various needs and completing the fulfillment of those needs by his many conduits of grace. 

When I step back to take a long view, I am reminded that many people who the world would consider "weak" have accomplished amazing things by God's grace.  I'm not trying to be counted among them, but I do draw a lot of inspiration and reassurance from knowing that such has been the case.  May it be so in our circumstances as well.

While it may seem lofty, naïve, or flat-out foolish to believe that the strength I need to fulfill my God-given duties would come in the form of some nebulous and invisible Grace (big "G"), I've experienced it myself, I've seen it in action, and that's enough for me.

parts of speech

The elder lad has been waylaid by a nasty summer cold, running a high fever for several days and struggling with a sore throat as well as head and nasal congestion.  On Saturday we worked our way through a few pages from our book of Junior Mad Libs (with Mama-imposed limits on potty word usage) during a break from the "glowing screen".  With an understanding of the basic parts of speech, he was able to choose words from the list of suggested ones easily to fill in the blanks, and he took great care in making his selections.  As fun as it was working through the short "libs," the best part was hearing him laugh at the resulting silly story.

Later that evening I took him to urgent care to be tested for Strep throat.  That came back negative.  The doctor said it was likely a summer cold, albeit a miserable one, and let him know that popsicles* counted as "drink" in an effort to push the fluids.

Once we finally got home from urgent care and got the lad tucked into bed, I laid next to him for a few minutes as he was settling in.  I told him that I loved him more today than I did yesterday, and that I would love him more tomorrow.  This is not the first time I had said such a thing to him (or his siblings or their father). 

"How can you love me more tomorrow than you do today?" he wondered aloud, if a little sleepily. 

"Because love grows," I told him.  "It doesn't keep to itself.  It reaches out and keeps going.  Love is a verb.  It means working for the good of the other person as well as the feelings we have for that person.  I want to be the best mother I can be for you, to do all I can to help you be the person God calls you to be.  That's loving you."

That might been a heady explanation for a sleepy, sniffly lad seeking some assurance of his mother's love and presence throughout the long night ahead when he struggled to sleep, but it laid the groundwork for future discussions about how we are called to place ourselves in the service of others. 

We'll save those discourses for when he's feeling better...

*as for the popsicles, we've (and by "we" I mean my beloved in collaboration with other non-sniffly bambini) been freezing fruit juice in popsicle molds I found in the dollar section at Target a few years ago, sometimes fancying it up a bit by layering one flavor of juice on top of another.   Nifty. 

love song

The lads have been at Vacation Bible School riding "The Vatican Express" this week, doing art projects a la Michelangelo lying on the floor while painting pictures taped to the undersides of the desks they lie under and learning classic VBS songs like "Father Abraham".

A few nights ago before bedtime the elder lad had everyone up and dancing, arms flailing and voices singing along.

This morning the younger lad sang "skida-ma-rinky-dinky-dink, skida-ma-rinky-doo. I...love...you" to me, adding that he'd have to teach me the rest later after VBS because it was about a railroad.

He has yet to finish the lesson.

speed dial

In case you've been trying to put a face with my name, here's a fairly recent portrait by the younger lad:

"Momm" by Younger Lad, age 4.5 • November 2011

Yes: my hair usually does look like that, and I'm trying to incorporate more "bling" into my everyday look with accessories and embellishments.

These bambini of mine are by turns sweet, spirited, imaginative, and resilient.  They along with my beloved play a major role in the ongoing process that is my conversion of heart to the will of Christ.

Someone who always spoke of the lofty nature of motherhood while acknowledging its far less glamorous aspects was the pastor emeritus of the parish where I served as director of music and liturgy for a few years.  He was a man of such size and stature as to cause young children to wonder if he was God or Santa Claus.   He died a few days before Christmas this past year, and his absence is felt keenly by those whose souls he tended for many years and whose hearts he lifted with words of encouragement and prayer. 

I had the great honor of playing the piano at the vigil service held for him the night before his funeral was celebrated.  I chose music to reflect the servant leadership he so deftly offered as well as music that summoned the prayers of Christ's mother Mary, whom this Irish Catholic priest (as noted by the funny sign stationed at the head of his casket for the vigil that proclaimed "parking for Irish Catholic priest only") held in highest regard and mused about often. 

The well-timed phone calls from him are sorely missed, not just by me but by lots of folks, I'm sure.  The brief exchanges of pleasantries and vocational affirmation always helped me in my quest to mother intentionally, faithfully, and gently.  As much as I miss those phone calls now, I trust he continues to pray for us, and that those prayers are carried to the Father speedily. 

With sincere appreciation for my mother, my beloved's mother, our grandmothers, godmothers, aunts, cousins, and friends who mother us so lovingly and for those who support and care for mothers of any kind, I pray the Lord will bless in a special way those who are in dire need of mothering, whatever their age, and in need of someone like this dear priest to affirm them in living out the call of Christ. 

important matters of Legos and life

A few weeks ago the elder lad was especially fretful.  At first he worried that he'd sucked up a Lego when he was vacuuming one evening.  He was willing to sift through the contents of the vacuum cleaner bag in search of the missing piece.  He was persuaded to first dump out the various containers of Legos we've amassed and put each piece back so as to check for the missing one.  Blessedly, my beloved helped him with this endeavor, and they found the longed-for Lego.  There was much rejoicing.

That moment was a long time coming.  As they worked together and throughout the many episodes in which the lad expressed with great emotion how much he wanted to find the missing Lego, my beloved would talk to the lad in a sympathetic albeit straightforward way about how the Lego was just a thing, that it wasn't something that would matter in the final analysis of the lad's life.  It being a thing, it could not keep him from loving and serving God (unless he let it). 

Once that was resolved, the lad began to worry that something *might* be buried in the dirt box out back -- something like a favorite truck or toy that he would miss if we were to move to a different home.  As often as they've tilled that dirt box with their shovels, this is highly unlikely.  He is not convinced, and since now there are vegetables planted in that box, they may not go uprooting those in search of the toy, which may or may not be missing.  The lad is still worried about losing something important to him (although he can't articulate what it is he's looking for or recall having buried it -- whatever it is -- in the dirt box), but he does now acknowledge "it's just a thing" (whatever it is).

We have a saying here:  "people are always more important than things.". I didn't coin the phrase, but I have employed it many a time.

A few nights ago the lads had the Legos out again (along with the requisite separator tool).  By some misfortune, the younger lad accidentally broke one of the trucks the elder lad had created.  The younger lad apparently said something apologetic to his older brother, who was surprisingly gracious about the mistake.  After the elder lad reassured his brother that this would not spell imminent doom for the younger brother, the grateful lad said, "it's just a thing.  It can be fixed.  People can't be fixed."  Together they rebuilt the truck.

Thank you, Lord, for these reassurances that the messages of gentleness, forgiveness, and respect that we're trying to send are getting through.  Such gifts help buoy us when any one of us chooses to behave otherwise.

get this right

The younger lass rifled through a filing cabinet with some of my piano scores and found a spiral-bound booklet of the repertoire assigned to me my senior year of college. She slapped it up on the music desk and toddled off to do something else.

As I walked past the piano I caught sight of the score she had left open, and I stopped to thumb through the pages. It was the "working copy" where my piano professor and I noted all sorts of things related to the piece and its performance: fingerings, pedaling, dynamics, harmonic analysis, and phrasing, among other things like this note I scribbled:

 

get this right.

as in: quit making this same mistake here.  You know it's coming.  It's tripped you up enough times to merit a note in the score *and* a highlighter, so fix it already.  Don't make it again.

How many times in a day do I make the same mistakes or allow myself to edge too close to that line where I can't help but bungle a situation that presents itself over and over again -- one I've had the opportunity to address and learn from and traverse successfully going forward?  For whatever reason, I still make some of  the same mistakes.  

My dad says I use my music degree every day, even those days when I don't touch a piano.  Maybe this is what he means.  And thank the good Lord for his infinite mercy in forgiving those mistakes, even though I make them time and again.  Isn't that what Easter, which we are at last celebrating, is all about -- forgiveness of sins and everlasting life?

I don't operate under the delusion that I am perfect or will always handle every situation perfectly, but I would like to eliminate some of those oft-made mistakes by considering the factors that contribute to my making them and doing what needs to be done to set up a better outcome.  

Here's what I hope I did get right today:  I hope I made good use of the time God gave me this day to show his love and mercy to those around me.  I hope in those moments when I felt like I might lose my patience or withdraw from interaction in the face of some drama that I was able to recognize them inwardly and overcome them either by expressing those emotions in a healthy and respectful way or by waiting a minute to let them blow over.   I hope to have shown my bambini that Mama does make mistakes sometimes, as we all do, and that when I do I try my best to make amends, tend to the hurt I may have caused, and move on.

We do our best, says my Grannie, and that's all we can do.  Part of that is built on learning from our mistakes -- God willing, before warranting a highlighter's notice.

big kid stuff

My dad calls it "big kid stuff": appliances breaking, ill children, school decisions, relationships, which end of the lamb cake to cut into first on Easter Sunday and who is going to have that honor...

It's the stuff of life, really: the daily joys and struggles that we have the (sometimes dubious) honor of navigating ourselves.  We are blessed beyond measure to have family and friends whose help we can trust is available, but ultimately we are responsible for making decisions that affect our bambini and ourselves, for following through on those decisions, and bearing the consequences (good or bad) that result.

Sometimes I have moments where I wish I could defer this navigational responsibility to someone else -- to revert to a more childlike state, but ultimately, I don't really want to go back there.  I'm a pianist, remember, independent by nature.  Along with the considerable responsibility of being a "big kid" comes the freedom to decide for ourselves and our family -- always with a heavy reliance on prayer for discerning the will of God.

I am deeply grateful to my parents for helping form me into the person I am today, one who is able to take life as it comes and roll with the punches. My beloved and I are working diligently to do the same for our bambini so that one day they might each know the freedom that comes from living in the stream of grace. 

fun for all ages

At every holiday I find myself thinking of celebrations I experienced as a child.  The adults in my life worked hard (I now realize) to host fun events for me and any other children present, such as my Chicago cousins or the family with four children whose dad has been my dad's pal since high school.  They made it look so easy.

Now that my beloved and I have the honor of creating celebrations that I hope are happy-memory-filled for our bambini, I realize that it's not easy, that a lot of work goes into these types of events.  All too easily, the big day can arrive with parents too bleary-eyed to see the expressions of delight on the faces of their children and too snappish to be any fun to be around.

What a pity, considering all that work was done to make it fun for the kids. 

Much like planning a birthday celebration, when it comes to crafting a jolly holiday, collaboration and preparation go a long way toward making the event fun for everyone.  When it's a religious holiday, such as Easter we're celebrating this weekend, it's imperative to keep the focus on the entire reason for the celebration -- namely, Christ's redemptive sacrifice, God's infinite mercy, and the hope we have in eternal life because of those.

Sure: it's fun to go on Easter egg hunts and consume vast quantities of yummy treats (lamb cake, anyone?), especially after a long Lenten season of self-denial, but we would not be celebrating at all were it not for the Passion we celebrated on Good Friday and the Resurrection we herald on Easter morning.

With all that in mind, let the rejoicing and revelry begin!

via crucis

On this Good Friday...

The younger lad drew this on Ash Wednesday

"We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you,

because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world."

--from The Way (or Stations) of The Cross, or "Via Crucis"

ro.bot. birthday

My beloved's mother has done it again: another imaginative birthday party full of fun games and thoughtful details for the birthday bambino -- the five-year-old younger lad in this case.  The theme?  Robots, of course...

 

build a block tower using only your robotic arm

robot bean bag toss -- she (and her little helpers) made those felt robots

 

pin the battery on the robot

(over Spring Break we traced around the younger lad to make this poster, then the bambini colored in the 'bot. 
Note the iPod and earbuds -- that's the elder lad's doing)

She and my beloved's father served a lovely brunch with the younger lad's favorite food.  My sister brought cinnamon rolls, and we brought this little number made of butter cake from the King Arthur Flour Whole Grain Baking Cookbook and topped with our favorite cream cheese frosting -- but no homemade sprinkles:

And then there was Fruit Bot 1.0, but you met him already:

and these cute juice boxes (the bambini have been great about "pacing ourselves", as the elder lass says somberly, with the candy)

My parents and sister and my beloved's brother saw to the balloons, adding to the already festive environment.   It was a fete filled with laughter and lots of robot noises, both bambini-created and battery-operated.

These family birthday parties with everyone involved somehow are testaments to the love that binds us together, a love rooted in faith that, God willing, gives rise to the formation of children into adults open to heeding God's call for their lives.   Collaborating on the festivities gives us all a chance to be more present to the honoree, which is probably the best gift of all.