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. 

face time

The bambini love calling family members via FaceTime on our gadgets that support the application.  It's a bit like The Muppet Show while we are waiting for the call to connect, with much jostling and jockeying for that front and center spot, as well as some last minute reminders hissed by the director (that'd be me) to "modulate your voices" (as Grannie would say) so that the people on the receiving end can hear what we're saying. 

Being able to connect with our loved ones by seeing their faces and hearing their voices in real time is an amazing boon, one of the biggest advantages of our present-day technology.  When we can't be in the same room with our friends and loved ones, we can still see and hear them.  It's not quite the same as being able to reach out and hug them, but we'll take it!

In this world with so many ways of communicating, there is still no substitute for time spent together face to face.  Phone calls keep voices fresh in our minds; and letters, e-mail, texting, and social media are better than nothing, but each of these media have their limitations.  We can only infer the intentions with which people write to us; we can't hear their tone of voice or see their facial expressions.  As the messages get shorter, such as in texting, there is ample room for misunderstandings to arise from such short snippets and exchanges.  While they are useful for a variety of things, they certainly can't be the primary means of communication between two people, and there are many situations for which these modes of communication are simply inappropriate.

Then there is the time factor.  It's difficult to have meaningful conversations when time is limited, conditions are noisy, or gadgets are involved.  When there is only time for exchanging pleasantries, how can any real relationship be cultivated or maintained?

While the tools at our disposal continue to evolve in capability, they cannot intuit the meaning of a human heart and convey that to another.   Only we can do that for ourselves, and the best way to accomplish that is face to face.  Until we can visit in person, we'll make use of the array of technological tools made to keep us in touch, always preferring actual face time to its virtual counterpart.

assessments

My birthday was last Saturday.  Judging by the mountain of clean but unfolded laundry, someone seems to think she's still the Birthday Girl with a "get out of folding laundry because it's your birthday" pass.  Today is my lovely friend Katie's birthday as well as that of my beloved's grandfather and our cousin.  Another cousin's birthday earlier was this week, so I'm thinking the laundry folding can wait another day in honor of all the festivities.

Birthdays have a way of serving as a checkpoint or annual review of sorts.  Here's mine in a nutshell, with plenty left out but enough both to work at and build upon...

Things I thought I would be better at by now:

• getting kids to sleep 
• staying calm in the face of a temper tantrum or prolonged fussing
• going to bed

Things I'm pretty good at (surprisingly):

• using silliness or humor to convey instructions or cut through kvetching 
• laundry stain-fighting (knock on wood)

Things I am getting better at:

• getting things done -- not everything and not all the time, but more often, even if I have to chip away at whatever it is a little bit at a time
• winnowing down the number of things at which I am multitasking so that I can complete at least some of them before starting new ones
• getting dinner on the table
• staying on top of the laundry (sort of) 
• estimating the amount of time tasks actually take to accomplish
• arriving some place on time (or at least closer to it)

Things I'm not so good at (still):

• going to bed 
• making decisions

For my birthday buddies and me I pray that by God's grace, the year ahead may bring continued growth and understanding, peace and fortitude for the journey still to come, and laughter to bridge the expanse between expectations and reality.   Sleep would be good, too.

(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.

life of the party

Our darling clementine is two today! She may be the smallest of the small ones, but she is (as Grandmare describes her) the life of the party. To her, everything is big: big excitement about all things strawberry (and tomato), big frustration over anything that doesn't go her way, even herself, as she considers herself every bit as big as her older siblings.

I played with Strawberry Shortcake figurines like these when I was a little girl.  Now they're considered "vintage"!

The relationships she is forging with her siblings are at once complex and simple. They dote on her (especially the elder lad), play with her (especially her sister the elder lass, who is often heard saying "I need my [sister!]), and find her both a snuggle buddy and an easy target (that would be the younger lad). From her perspective, life is better when they're around, and she's happiest when she's right in the middle of their games and shenanigans.

For us, she is a ray of sunshine, a precious and refreshing ball of energy and exuberance. She may keep us all on our toes, but she gives *great* squeezy hugs and laughs with every fiber of her being.

She's been heard yelling "Hi, kids!" to those in passing shopping carts, and she is quick to notice the distress call of an upset child, whether she knows them or not.  She's empathetic like that.

I've been a bit preoccupied making pinwheels.

To celebrate her birthday, we hosted a pancake "brecky" for the family, complete with our favorite pancakes (expertly griddled by my dad) topped with whipped cream and strawberries, yummy breakfast casseroles (thanks, Annie, for your help with those!), strawberry muffins made by Grandmare, fruit and yogurt parfaits,  cold-brewed coffee (my current preferred coffee concoction), and a few other fixin's.  The younger lass truly was the "life of the party", shrieking with delight as she opened lovingly-chosen gifts from her aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins.  Today we took a family trip to the aquarium and had a pizza party (at her request).

My kitty clock!" the lass exclaimed when she unwrapped this iconic clock, a gift from her great-grandparents.  She had seen one in a clock shop several months ago, and was so excited to hold in her hands one of her very own.

Imagine the ways the Lord will shine through her bright star if she allows him to. She does that already when she folds her little hands together to pray.  

Lord, please help us her grow in grace, wonder, compassion, and joy as the story of her life continues to unfold. May the twinkle in her dark chocolate brown eyes only shine brighter with each passing day. Thank you for entrusting this sweet rosy girl to our care. 

miniature roses for our rosy girl

for my favorite Anglophiles

With the London Olympics about to begin soon and my brother- and sister-in-law (the ones who lived in London for a while) about to arrive for a highly-anticipated visit, today I offer a selection of favorite children's books from across the pond.

Each one of M. Sasek's This Is... set of travel books for children is a trip of its own.  The books were written in the '60s, but some of them have been reprinted recently with necessary updates given in a list at the end of each book.  The fun watercolor illustrations and whimsical prose make these books great read-alouds to the younger ones, even if some of the references to historical events and people are obscure to the wee ones.  I find these books so charming and have been known to give them as gifts to adults (specifically This Is Edinburgh to my father, whose father -- my Papa Jack -- emigrated from Scotland with his family at the age of seven -- my elder lad's present age.) -- they're that fun.  With books on major cities of the world -- and Texas, oddly enough -- this series would be a fun collection to have if one had the shelf space.

My brother-in-law the Londoner once brought the elder lad (when the latter was an only lad) a stuffed Paddigton Bear and cup with super fun straw.  Thus began a long friendship with the bear from "Darkest Peru."  We've read most of Michael Bond's original story collections, listened to some of them on audiobooks, and pored over the picture books "for younger readers".  Suffice it to say, we are big fans of Paddington.

Dodsworth in London by Tim Egan. It's about a critter named Dodsworth who goes to London with his loquacious duck. They get separated when the duck gets on a double-decker bus without Dodsworth, who thinks the duck with the fascinator (who is the Royal Duck, pet of the queen) is his duck being silly. The pair end up lodging at Buckingham Palace at the queen's invitation.

What discussion of British children's books would be complete without mentioning Beatrix Potter?  Grandmare lent us her big book of Miss Potter's stories a while back, and we have yet to return it. 

As exciting as the Olympics are to witness, the best part for me will be the time spent with family in town for a too-short visit.  As with Britain's royal wedding a year and a half ago, the sporting events themselves don't affect me personally.  The connection to loved ones and opportunities to pore over good books with my bambini are golden.

family reunion

You know that scene at the end of Christmas Vacation when Chevy Chase's character Clark Griswold surveys the scene around him after all of his relatives have witnessed firsthand the collision of reality with his dream of a "fun old-fashioned family Christmas" and says in amazement to himself, "I did it."?

I can relate.

Last week our young family mounted an expedition unlike anything we'd done before.  We took a road trip.  Not just a short jaunt to visit my parents and sister -- a trip upwards of 350 miles.  Sure: other families have done this sort of thing plenty of times.  I myself was a veteran road-tripper by the age of five, driving more than twice that distance one way with my father (who did the actual driving) to visit our Chicago family before my Papa Jack passed away.  Still, this was the first time the family my beloved and I are privileged to parent went on such an adventure.  We, along with my parents and sister, met our Chicago family for a reunion.  There were some among them we'd never met (children, that is), and vice versa, and although Grannie had come to stay with us a couple of times and each of my aunts had come for short visits, it had been a long time since nearly all of Grannie's descendants were together.  Even still, we missed my cousin the doctor who recently began her residency. 

The first moments of our reunion were similar to the scene in Cynthia Rylant's The Relatives Came, illustrated by Stephen Gammell.  There was lots of hugging and chattering and more hugging and laughing and more hugging.  In the story, the relatives have driven a long, long way from their family farm to visit their loved ones.  They pack the house and sleep practically piled upon one another (not unlike the many Fourth of July holidays happily spent at Grannie's lake cottage) and stay for weeks, helping the host family tend to their garden (while eating up all its produce) and other household upkeep.  Then, after lots more hugs, they pack up their station wagon and head home with visions of next summer when the ones who made the trip this year will be the hosts.  In spite of the physical distance that separates the two branches of the family tree, there is a bond evident that isn't diminished by time and space, one that every family surely aspires to retain.

For our family reunion we met not quite in the middle and stayed at a hotel, which was a grand adventure for our bambini.  Our Bambini Ride isn't rainbow-colored like the station wagon in the story, but it was packed pretty much to the gills like the fictional vehicle. 

The book's illustrator Stephen Gammell won a Caldecott Medal for the artwork that brings this story to life, as he did for (among others) Song and Dance Man by Karen Ackerman, another book we enjoyed about a grandfather regaling his grandchildren with stories of his days as a vaudeville performer.

Seeing the cousins I'd spent many summers with as a child now all grown up like me (or are we?), one with children of her own, the bond between us was renewed.  When we were much younger, we'd write letters to each other.  Yes: letters -- as in paper, pens, envelopes and stamps.  I'd write them to my cousins, I'd write them to my Grannie, and they'd write them back to me.  So when I stumbled upon David Ezra Stein's Love, Mouserella, I hastily requested it. 

Mouserella has just bidden her grandmother farewell after a visit, and already Mouserella misses her.  Sound familiar?  So Mouserella writes a letter to her dear grandmother, telling her about anything and everything that's going on and providing illustrations.  This sweet story conjures up memories of me writing to my Grannie upon my return home from her house, missing her already and eager to keep the conversation going. We still try to do that now by phone and e-mail, not so much with letters.  The occasional card is always considered "fun mail."

Though we are separated by nearly 800 miles, the connection we have to our Chicago family is important to us to keep alive.  Though traveling has been difficult for us in recent years, we saw an opportunity to give it a go with lots of help from my parents and sister along the way as well as lots of help from my beloved's parents before we left.  Our family is blessed beyond measure to have the love and support of so many relatives and friends.  For all of that, for the gift of time we've recently had to spend together, and for the safe trip we made, I will always be grateful.

I think Clark Griswold would be proud.

ringy dingy

Today would've been Aunt Robin's 51st birthday, and I didn't call my Grannie. 

I always try to call my Grannie on Aunt Robin's birthday -- or Papa Jack's -- and most definitely on Grannie's own birthday.  That's just how we do things.  As with there always being lamb cake for Easter, we always call each other on our birthdays, or on what would've been the birthdays of those we love but who are now departed from this life.

Grannie called late last week as we were driving to the last day of Vacation Bible School.  It was pretty early to be hearing from her, so I was initially concerned that something may be amiss.  It wasn't.  She was in good spirits, about to head out to help one of my aunts with some organizing.  Grannie has wizard-like skills in the organizational department -- specifically in the kitchen.   It had been a while since I had called her, in spite of my best intentions to call her at least once a week.   

*Once a week, Bonnie!  Is that so difficult?!  Especially considering how much time you spend driving in the car with that handsfree phone gadget?!*  

Not so long ago I did ring my Grannie-o to catch up on the "doings", as she calls them, only to chat for a minute with her dear friend there visiting all the while thinking it was Grannie.  Another time I called and interrupted her weekly bridge game with her "lady friends".  It was her turn to host.  She called me back later. 

Every time she calls she says something along the lines of, "I wasn't sure if this was a good time to call, so I just decided to try." I'm so glad she takes the chance.  I do that now too, not just with Grannie but with a few other cherished people.  I boldly acknowledge that I've taken the calculated risk of calling a fellow mother with young children at what might be their siesta time, hoping with great fervor that I won't awaken a bambini *thisclose* to drifting off to sleep for a sorely-needed siesta. 

When I've been on the receiving end of a call that I can't prudently answer, I don't answer it.  I hope this doesn't offend the caller, but most people who call me anymore realize that I'm not exactly sitting around waiting for the phone to ring.  It may take me a little (or a long) while to return the call, but knowing with certainty that someone I cherish has taken the time to call me has such a buoying effect on my spirits.  

I am often reticent to pick up the phone and call someone to say hello or indirectly ask for a pick-me-up in the form of a brief conversation for fear that they might be in the middle of something, but when I take the chance and hear his or her voice on the receiving end, I am so much the better for having done so. 

I'm sorry, Gran, that I didn't call you today.  Be expecting a call from me tomorrow...

motivators

On the last day of school we drove to the library and signed up for the Summer Reading Program, which asks each participant to read (or be read) a certain number of books and visit the library a few times in order to earn a medal and prizes.  There are special programs and events throughout the summer as well.  We've made it a point to participate since the elder lad was a toddler.  We read to him in those days.  These days he can read to himself (and his siblings). 

Each year when the bambini sign up for the program, they are eager to see the medal and prizes -- sometimes stuffed animals, other times inflatable toys -- they stand to earn.  As soon as we get home from the library they ask me to get out the previous years' medals, which I usually have stashed somewhere after said prizes have been used as lassos or other contraband. 

Reading books together is a high-priority agenda item most days, so we reach the goal of however many books it is to win the whole shebang of prizes fairly early on in the summer.  The elder lad has reveled in writing down the books he's read in his log.

A day or so into the book-logging project, my beloved was giving the elder lad some good-natured teasing about reading before bedtime -- more specifically, that the lad needed to cease his dilly-dallying getting ready for bed lest there be no time left for reading.  The lad wasn't too concerned. 

"It's important to keep reading during the summer so you don't forget how," said my beloved, hoping to motivate the lad.

"But Dad," said the lad," I've already read 12 books today!"

Our aunt who teaches at the school our bambini attend had a snappy comeback of her own when she heard about that:  "Time for longer books!  Next up: War and Peace..." 

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. 

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!

jubilee

It's been a big day on our family calendar, as we've been celebrating my beloved's grandparents' 60th wedding anniversary, my beloved's birthday, and the anniversary of our engagement. The blessings stemming from these milestones are humbling in their magnitude and have been life-giving in many ways. What an honor it is to share in this jubilee.

aloha, annie

My sister the college freshman was in our vicinity this afternoon and thus was able to stop by and liven up our after school happy hour. Her arrival on our doorstep was heralded by squeals of delight from the younger lass.

To thank my sister -- the bambini call her "annie", I fed her a home-cooked Hawaiian-style meal.  (details here at Foodie Proclivities)

It wasn't quite the genius meal my beloved's dear mother made for us this past weekend that I was hoping to replicate, but the marinade I made up miraculously came out pretty good -- even though the younger lad, who mixed the concoction for me, kept saying that "something was missing."  How he knew this without trying the potion, I know not.

At least there were no "incidents" to speak of...

angels at work

With a healthy dose of uncertainty that didn't devolve into tears, the younger lad started preschool this morning.  He was familiar with the setting from Vacation Bible School this summer, and he was buoyed by the hope of seeing his brother the first grader on the playground.  They did in fact see each other, which was the declared highlight of their respective school days (that and lunch, according to the newly-minted preschooler). 

After school we visited my sister all moved into her spiffy dorm room.  This brought back a wealth of memories for me of her as a wee lass about the age of my preschooler visiting me in my college dorm room.  Those weekly visits she and my mom paid me were always highlights, and it's an honor to return the favor now.  We love having Babycakes so close by.

Enveloped in the grace of God and the protection of his angels and ours, we have so much to be thankful for such a relatively smooth transition to the school scene and this latest round in our Game of Life.

no special reason

Many of my happiest childhood memories are of times spent with my family at Grannie's lake house north of Chicago, all of us together for no special reason other than simply to be together.  Some of us would be doing one thing, others another, still others engaged in something else, but we were all together.  We were ever mindful of the house being Grannie's, but it wasn't as though she was the hostess entertaining us all (although she is a very gracious hostess). 

The communal-style living arrangements of the dormitory where I resided my freshman year of college lent themselves to the fostering of friendships with some ladies who I still consider my close friends today, even if I haven't seen them in a long time.  Over the course of that year, the room I shared with a childhood friend became a gathering place for these new friends of ours.  When we were in our room, most of the time the door would be open and friends would wander in and settle down for as little or as long as they could.  I loved it. 

When the occasion presents itself for our family to come visit for the day or a weekend or however long, perhaps for a holiday or even just a few days' getaway, I relish the time and the sense of this place, our home, being a place where people are comfortable just being.   Special events like birthdays, baptisms, and holidays are exciting to plan (if a little stressful at the same time), but those times that surround the special events can be just as memorable.

As our bambini grow older and develop more friendships with their peers, I hope and pray that our home will be a place where they feel welcome to gather -- for any reason, or no reason at all.

life goes on

Soooo... where do I go from here?

I'm inclined to throw up some diversion to lighten the mood a bit.  Something like this:

Please.  The cuteness defies quantification. 

But instead I will expand just a little upon some of my ramblings from last night...

As a pianist, I've played *lots* of funerals both Catholic and Protestant over the years.  They are always fraught with emotion and laden with sadness, especially for those bidding farewell to someone they love.  I've been one of those people bidding farewell to loved ones many times myself.  Even in the midst of sorrow, however, the Catholic funerals especially that I've played have been some of the most uplifting, soul-edifying experiences I've had for many of the reasons I listed yesterday. I am always honored to play a funeral for anyone, to be present at that moment of grace, to help fulfill the work of mercy that is burying the dead, and to stand with those who are grieving.  To be a part of planning a funeral for someone is likewise an honor I humbly undertake when asked. 

Someday my bambini will have to bid farewell to someone they love dearly, as they will subsequently have to many times over the course of their lives.  I am not expecting this day to be imminent for anyone close to us, but we never know what tomorrow will bring.  As a family we've already said good-bye to a couple of pets the bambini's grandparents have had, as well as an uncle of my beloved's (when the lads were very little -- before the lasses were born).

When the day does come to say good-bye, it is my fervent hope that the services arranged to facilitate this farewell will both offer some solace for the grief our bambini feel and hope for them that their loved one is still accessible to them, though not in tangible, visible form any more.  Perhaps the positive experience of having been to funerals before will at least give a certain sense of familiarity that helps accomplish this.

Further, I pray for the grace to equip our bambini with the knowledge that is a pathway to faith in the hope Christ gives us of everlasting life and resurrection by my openness to discussing with them the questions they have about life, death, faith, or anything else on their minds (at an age-appropriate level, of course, and only to the extent they are comfortable discussing it barring any urgent necessity). 

I post many quips and soundbytes of our family life -- most of them funny, heart-warming, illustrative or reminiscent of things that transpire in these parts.  When the younger lad posited his becoming imaginary at the end of his earthly life, it left a lasting impression on my heart that I knew I needed to chronicle.  He's not only impish (and he is back to being impish after a couple days of strep throat-induced lethargy), but he's existential as well.  God love him for that.

So we toddle on with life, eagerly awaiting Easter and trying to live each day in peace, with sanctity, grace, and no short supply of humor.

About those shoes: they were a gift to the two-year-old lass from an aunt very dear to us, and they're not at all appropriate for mud season...

real (if invisible). not imagined.

Our almost four-year-old younger lad tends toward the thinker/dreamer type.   Several weeks back he let me know that when he and his brother die, they will be imaginary.  I'm pretty sure my response in real time was a mixture of befuddlement and surprise, what with the din of the Wii in the background and all.  I think I said something like, "well, when you die -- as every person does -- your soul will -- we pray -- be in heaven with God.  You won't need your body anymore, but your soul will live on."  He wondered aloud what a soul was, but he wasn't really looking for an explanation beyond "the part of you that makes you *you* that God made to be with him forever" and changed the subject. 

We've attended two funerals for aunts in our extended family in the past couple of weeks.  I don't think I ever met the aunt for whom last week's funeral Mass was offered, but we went because she was family, and because it was Mass, and because there are fewer (if any) more worthwhile, constructive ventures than praying for each other -- especially for the souls of those who have passed from this life into the next. 

Except, going to Mass with young children isn't always a prayerful experience, as this example illustrates, but this position statement rationalizes.  That's alright.  

I thought of the lad's comment many times of the course of these two family gatherings, always intending to write about it here but not having taken the time to do so until today.  It being Ash Wednesday makes the timing seem appropriate somehow.  I digress...

Along with all the reasons I gave for our attendance, my beloved and I thought it was also important that our children be present at the funerals (the elder lad was in school the day of the second one, but the three littler littles were there) to help solidify the understanding, belief, and hope we have in the everlasting life Christ offers us.  The funeral liturgy is a beautiful aid in that endeavor and, in my personal experience, a great solace for those who are grieving.

The Scripture readings and prayers that comprise a Catholic funeral liturgy are by turns an acknowledgment of the sorrow we feel for the loss of our loved one, an expression of the joy we have by faith that that person is now with God, and a way for us to pray for the forgiveness of any sins our loved ones may have committed while in this life so that he or she may be cleansed of those and enter into eternal life.   It is (usually) Mass as we are accustomed to, with a few added elements pertaining to the person whose soul we are praying for.

Death is never an easy subject of conversation, but that doesn't mean we don't discuss it with our children (even if we might inwardly shudder at the prospect of being separated from each other by death).  They are usually the ones to bring it up, so we try to answer their questions simply and honestly. They know every living thing is created by God and eventually dies, and that just as each of us is born, so too will each of us die someday.  We don't know when but don't expect it to be soon, though we strive to live each day as the gift that it is. And though we don't always understand or find it easy to bid someone we love farewell, we hope that we will see them again someday and trust in God's care for that person until we do, even though we can't see him or her anymore. We believe they live on -- for real. 

Here we are at the beginning of Lent, the time of preparation for Easter when we ask God to create clean hearts in us, and to illumine the shadows in our hearts that keep us from him.  The culmination of this penitential season leads to Good Friday, the day of the Lord's passion and death, followed by his glorious resurrection on Easter.

There is nothing imaginary about the sacrifice of Christ for our salvation.  It's a weighty subject for anyone to deal with, but it's something we as a family will enter into together, so that come Easter morning we will have walked with Christ through death to new life.

garden flower

On this day 36 years ago, my  mother carried gardenias (or "garden flowers") in her bridal bouquet.  In the Victorian language of flowers, gardenias symbolize joy and purity.  That's what I wish for her and my dad today, her birthday as well:  pure joy, with much love...

family treasure

For sure, the best part of Halloween in my mind is celebrating my beloved's grandmother's 80th birthday.  I could do without the goblins and definitely without the overabundance of sugary foodstuffs everywhere that sends everyone bouncing off the walls (for a short while, that is, before the inevitable blood sugar crash), but I'm all for treating Grandma to any and all manner of festivities and merriment. 

From our first meeting, Grandma has shown me unfailing kindness.  She is an inspiration to me every day as I go about the business of caring for my young family.  She's been where I am now.  Whenever I wonder how I can possibly manage to do this job, I think of the times I've heard Grandma's response to remarks to that effect with regard to how she did it.  "You just do," she always says.   

And she prays -- a lot.  Her Catholic faith is the cornerstone of her life.
  
Grandma's life's work has been focused on caring for her eight children, their children, and several friends who've become close like family.   She is ever gracious, quick to offer a reassuring or positive word, and obviously delights in the antics of her grandchildren and great-grandchildren. 

With a smile as radiant as the sun and a lifetime of wisdom to share, Grandma is truly a family treasure.  I hope she knows how deeply cherished and loved she is.