Sweet Bananas

There was a time, not too distant in the past, I asked God to deliver us from the heartache and confusion we were experiencing. I begged Him to rescue us from what we saw as a situation that could only end badly. We had been told several times that conceiving naturally again would be "highly unlikely," despite the apparent ease at which Ellie came into the world. We were struggling and sad and confused. I think we were just reaching the peace of our future when I found myself sick in a ditch in the rain of a New Jersey winter. 

Was it the food we had eaten? Was it Steve's bat-out-of-hell driving (highly likely)? Was it the real-deal martini I had enjoyed before dinner?

A stick in the Target stall (not recommended if privacy is important) confirmed my quiet hopes, and there we were. Pregnant with a miracle, considering our consistent, sobering medical "diagnosis."

In His infinite generosity and humor, God gave us two. No kidding. "Oh," said that doctor just weeks after he had pronounced us hopeless, "there's another one." I couldn't breathe, I couldn't stop crying or laughing, and I couldn't wait to see Steve's face when he saw the ultrasound picture (He was home, keeping Ellie, for we thought this early appointment a routine experience. Ha.).

We have journeyed tentatively through this pregnancy, and we are not nearly to the end. But, at 20 weeks and after a "very normal" ultrasound with a perinatologist last week, we actually bought some little clothes and began looking at cribs. We think this might happen, and we are in constant gratitude. 

A little boy and girl. "Womb-mates" as my brother calls them. :) Ellie thinks Katie and Flick are good names. Mary Claire suggested Harry and Sally. Mom just likes to call them Tweedledum and Tweedledee. 

They are as big as bananas.

Jacob comments almost daily on the size of my tummy. "Wow, Mom, from the side you are HUGE." Nick just wants to turn 16, so one, two or three babies seems quite inconsequential. Steve doesn't understand why we need a double stroller, and Ellie kisses them everyday--"my babies" she says. 

Please keep us all in your prayers. :)

Let everyone try and find that as a result of daily prayer he adds something new to his life, something with which nothing can be compared.  --Mahatma Gandhi

Lent--Becoming a Saint

I've written about this before, but in the midst of our family's great changes, I find myself thinking of the sacrifices necessary to become a saint. I'm wondering if unpacking a house and sorting through frames and silverware and pillows and random sets of sheets count. . . kind of doubt it, but I would like to put it up for consideration, next time "acts to become a saint" comes up for discussion.

Recently, I skimmed a book while in Adoration about the visionaries who see Mary. They began as children who now are adults (obviously), with an intense devotion to Our Blessed Mother and an overwhelming gift and responsibility of seeing her. 

So. I would like to believe in this whole heartedly. I'd like to see her, for heaven's sake! I'd like for her to lay her hands on me and give peace to my children and husband. I'd like to hear her voice and know what her hair looks like and what color her eyes are and what she smells like. But, really? Does this really happen? I am no qualified skeptic. There have been droves of people--hired by the Church, the media, governments and scientific think tanks--to disprove the visionaries. And they haven't. They've become their biggest defenders and protectors. So, this leaves me at the very beginning of a search--both spiritual and intellectual. I haven't felt this compelled about a dilemma since my economics grade in college. 

One of the visionaries reported that Mary told her something, and this little nugget has lodged itself into my consciousness for the past few weeks.  She supposedly said, "Do nothing that is a hindrance to your sanctification." She didn't say "Do something occasionally and My Son will overlook it," or "Do nothing that is a hindrance to you being nice or friendly or accepted or kind or generous." She said do NOTHING that will prevent you from entering the kingdom of heaven. 

So, in my lenten journey, and in my greater pilgrimage through this temporary life into my eternal home (that I pray is in the clouds and not in the flames), it is difficult to imagine even a day where I do everything good and nothing that distances me from God. It is my prayer that I learn to see my failings, and how they contribute to the greater worldly pain we find ourselves in, and ardently strive to fix them. It takes a lifetime, doesn't it? And even at the end, all we can do is beg for mercy and hope we in fact led a Saint in Training life, and not just a nice one. 

Happy Lent from the disorganized Gales!

Saying Goodbye to New Jersey

One year and 10 months. Our time here was eventful, but shorter than expected. It was like picking up an O. Henry book hoping to settle in for the evening, only realizing the beginning, middle and end take up a mere 13 pages. 

Our New Jersey memories will be like an O. Henry short story. Packed with details and to the point. 

Ellie learned to walk here, with the help of Jacob. I will never forget how patient he was. And how funny.

The boys learned to ski (well, kind of). I totally count riding the Magic Carpet ride up and down as "learning." Jacob was a master of that thing.

We befriended a wonderful man and his wife--Terrance and Jenny Ganaway. They taught us that being a Jet isn't as good as being a Ram and that the power of prayer and Catchphrase is nourishment for the soul. We are more special for knowing them.

We survived two hurricanes and several blizzards. We have spent more time without power than Abigail Adams (exaggeration). We consider 35 degrees "not bad," and 65 degrees "an answer to a prayer."

 We will miss our sweet little garden in the back that Steve so lovingly and carefully cultivated. Ellie thinks all "begtebles" come from Daddy.

 We will miss New York, Princeton and fruit picking. Those "pick your own" places only need a "bring your own" beer sign and they would be the HIT of party. We will miss these little day trips--they were fun and interesting and great, great people-watching.

Our kids changed so much--our height board looks like a race to the top. Nick discovered he couldn't eat enough (he started fighting with Bonnie for the carcass of the rotisserie chicken). Jacob discovered he liked to wear the same shirt everyday. Every, stinking, day. And Ellie grew hair, and teeth and a personality. Oh my!

Thank you, New Jersey, for being good to us. But what can I say? How could someone resist living in a state that sings THIS song?! We, for one, cannot! So, we're off. Saddle up, cowboys.

The stars at night are big and bright
Deep in the heart of Texas
The prairie sky is wide and high
Deep in the heart of Texas

The sage in bloom is like perfume
Deep in the heart of Texas
Reminds me of the one that I love
Deep in the heart of Texas

The coyotes wail along the trail
Deep in the heart of Texas
The rabbits rush around the brush
Deep in the heart of Texas!

How can I protect you?

If I really could speak to the Cosmos, I'd have a long conversation with It. If I were an op-ed writer, this column would be dense. But I am not. Still, I have something to say.

Please, for the love of God and all that is good and holy in this world, stop stealing our children's childhoods. Stop taking from them what makes them beautiful and innocent and darling and, well, children. Will we have to redefine this word, like we have so many others, because in a few years, it literally won't mean what it did a decade ago?

I found my sweet boy, on the eve of his 15th birthday, using his new Ipod nano to download videos of pornography. He was using the only computer in the house without parental controls, and sneaking to do it at 10:30 at night. I found him only because I'd come in for a glass of water.

He started crying. He was shaking. He was embarrassed, humiliated and stunned. He lied about what was happening until I forced him to come away from the screen. It was dark in the kitchen, except for the hideous glow from the computer. 

Words cannot describe my reaction, my emotion or his. This is not the first time we've found him looking for or listening to pornography. This topic is most dear to me because I feel it is the most precious gift given to us by God. If I mess this up with my kids, I've failed. End of story. This insidious "education" of women, sex, love, intimacy, dignity, self-worth, reality, truth and expectations is creating a generation of men. The next generation of men who will marry or not, rule our country or not, be kind or not, know God or not. 

And, we're a good family. We are attentive parents, with a lot of controls in our house and our devices. Our oldest is the only one with a phone (that is not a smart phone and that is now located in my pajama drawer for all eternity). He turns it in at night and has limits on its uses during the weekends. My boys don't play video games involving guns, they have allotted times on the computers, and cannot download songs with the F-word or the stamp of "Explicit." We say prayers. We believe in God. We go to Mass. We talk about morals and values and women and love and try very hard to set a good, no a great, example of marital harmony. We love our kids, we give them books for Christmas, we play Yahtzee, and once in a while, when they ask for something like an Ipod nano, we like to give it to them. 

Why must it be so hard? Why must this fifteen year old boy be tempted like this? Why must he see these things? And I know--there are traits like self-discipline and self-control. And I expect him to develop them. But should he have to have them tested against a pervasive, overwhelming reality such as this, and at an age when he simply cannot handle the temptation? He says many boys he knows (he wouldn't say everyone) have these videos and more on their phones. He says it's everywhere at school. All the time. 

And I'm a woman walking around my home with a son who has seen things and knows things that I haven't! He has been warped and damaged and scared and thrilled, I suppose, at images and scenes I dare not imagine. These are not magazine still-lifes of naked women posing atop silken sofas. These are videos of the highest moral twistedness. And they aren't hidden under your friend's bed or your cousin's house that you get to see once a month or even once a week. They are downloaded and viewed as much you like, in the quiet of your own room. I never even thought to have him "turn in" his Ipod at night. 

What lengths must we go to, in allowing our children to be in the world but also safe from it? Am I to walk in fear and eliminate everything with a plug but the toaster oven? I don't think that is the way God teaches us to live. But then, how can I give my children devices that could be the tools to end their childhood? What decent parent would do that?

Listen to me, Mr. Cosmos. I will not give up this fight. This is really important. I will not raise my children to believe that this behavior is good or acceptable or normal. I will raise them to love women, to treat them with dignity and gentleness and kindness and honor. I will teach them what love means and what dedication is and what it means to protect those people you cherish above all else. I will teach them by example, for I love and adore Nick and will not allow him to lose this one. 

Our children are faced with things in the hallways of schools we never had to encounter, let alone refuse. I am scared for Nick, I am angry and hurt and disgusted at his choice; however, he is my child and Steve and I will do everything and then some that we know to do to protect and help him. I just wanted you to know, Cosmos, that I'm pleading with you to give all our kids a break. They need it.

That is all.

Trail Turns

Sometimes, on the dogwood trail, the path would break to the left or right, and you'd have to crawl over the fallen branches and find your footing on the other side.

Our path has broken to the southwest, to be exact. Right over Tennessee and into Tyler, TX. We are on our way home!  No more hurricanes (hopefully), no more coats in the car, and no more of these crazy things that make you look like a chipmunk.

We're so excited, we're lost for words. :)

 

Steve has taken a position with a hospital there--we'll be able to drive to see family and share our lives with those we love. We'll be able to invite Daddy-O and Mamalise for graduations and 16th birthday parties, take baths with Susie and Jack more often, crash David's house and learn to eat crawfish with Casey. I am so excited to give this village to my children, especially Nick and Jacob.

We have been touched and blessed by many good people in New Jersey, and I will always consider myself lucky to have such a broad horizon of experiences. But my spirit feels peaceful and hopeful about this return to Texas. My children have seen so much (maybe too much?) for their short lifetimes. They definitely have the wings--I'm so happy we can dig in and give them roots.

Lessons from Sandy

Some things I knew, some things I did not. Sandy did not barrel in; rather, she crept into our evening like a welcome autumn storm. Calming, really, and quite romantic. Ten days later, we are tired of each other's company and had I known what a quiet, unwelcome guest she would be, I would never have stood staring at her from my kitchen sink. These days brought us some personal setbacks, but nothing, of course, to the many many people who lost homes, families or treasures. I do not compare my life to theirs. I only reflect on my little piece of the universe Sandy chose to invade.

 1. Never take Halloween for granted. Ellie was a scarecrow the Saturday before Halloween. The tulle episode still sits on her floor. 

2. When leaving your home for an overnight stay, remember your loofah. Washing without a washrag or scrub leaves you feeling like you did as good a job cleaning as Jacob. Which isn't good. 

3. People surprise you. I don't know how to phrase this one. . . I've gone back and forth trying to word it accurately. I think the most genuine way to say it is: (and after all, it's a blog, not a New York Times article. I write this for myself, not my job!) Friends and family I'd never expect to help, did. They called, asked, supported and prayed for us. Others' plates shrunk overnight and never even texted. Surprising, like I said, and a bit disheartening. A lesson for me, not a criticism on them. 

4. Ellie can use the phrase, "Mom, I need a beer" in correct context and with beautiful inflection. 

5. I knew Hillary and Kevin Shipp were darling and funny and great. I did not know they would be answers to my prayers.  

6. The majority of the country proved it does not think the way I do. I did not know it before Tuesday.

7. I knew Jacob and Nick were sweet boys. They are cooperative, flexible and very understanding. I learned how good they are. Truly, this experience brought out the best in them.

8. I love coffee. We are very close. We miss each other so much when we're not together in the morning, and when we don't know when we'll see each other again. It's painful, really.

9. Disasters can bring out the most resilient characteristics in us. They can also encourage our Quit.

10. Steve is a great daddy. I am so proud of myself for choosing him as a partner in all of This. He is dependable, funny, strong and honorable. I love him.

11. Sometimes, you have to stop to enjoy the moment and take in the scenery. In an effort to divert the troops, we took a nice driving tour of Allentown, PA. Right up there with the 2 hour lunch at Cracker Barrel, this was our favorite site. Yes, it reads Nappy BY CHOICE. As Leigh said, "Where is Miss Judy when you need her?" She would have died a second death at this.

12. When it can't get harder, it does. But you survive, or you die. And either way, according to my belief system, is pretty good. The snow came at just the time we didn't need it. Our house was cold, my family was tired (several different hotels, nights on mattresses in one bedroom, lots of peanut butter, no school, no friends, no RELIEF, no privacy) and I wasn't sure how to keep smiling when I felt like nursing a bottle of Bailey's. But Jacob's LSU Christmas hat made us laugh. And that, sometimes, is really all you need, yes?

13. Lastly, I realized that everyday, you need some naked time. Being dressed all day in front of your children in a bedroom or hotel room makes me feel suffocated. I missed the walk from the toilet to the shower, or the shower to the closet. Just the few moments to breathe by myself. And that was something Sandy taught me. It had never occurred to me before to seek out the Free Minute. But it makes a difference. Try.

Picking Fulton

Two things have been on my mind lately (well, more than two, but whatever). 

Fulton Sheen.

Picking up.

I discovered this treasured "Venerable Servant of God" when looking up "famous people from Peoria, IL" where Steve is from. I don't remember why I was doing it or how I convinced myself it was a good use of time. Nevertheless, the only name that had a hyperlink to it was Fulton Sheen! Let me say, I cannot get enough of this man. I've ordered two of his books (there are so many more!) from the local bookstore and cannot wait to feed my soul with his counsel. Treasure in Clay is his autobiography and Life is Worth Living is a collection of his television programs that ran in the 1950s. To quote from fultonsheen.com, "In 1951 he also began a weekly television program. . . Life is Worth Living. The show. . .was not expected to offer much of a challenge against ratings giants Milton Berle and Frank Sinatra, but surprisingly held its own, causing Berle to joke, "He uses old material, too." In 1952, Sheen won an Emmy Award for his efforts, accepting the acknowledgment by saying, "I feel it is time I pay tribute to my four writers—Matthew, Mark, Luke and John."

I find myself thinking of him during the day and finding comfort or grace in a man I've barely met. It's like I'm making a new friend, and I've just said, "Hi. I'm Katie. Welcome to our family! Would you like to be a part of our lives?!" lol. And I think, partly because he thinks of Steve as a neighbor and partly because I've nagged him enough, he said "yes."

The second thing, dear Fulton. Picking up. Holy moly. Lately, I've been exhausted and annoyed and feeling quite put upon with the CRAPOLA in my house that people leave like the scattered fallen leaves in my yard. I don't think the socks or crayons or jackets or shoes (we must have 5k pairs in this house) or underwear or legos or glasses of water or whatever are in any greater quantity that usual or, quite honestly, are in great quantity at all. I think it's me. Each little item nags at me, like some little annoying kid playing "Marco Polo" who just keeps yelling "Polo! Polo! Polo!" at the end of the pool and is no where near the Marco player. You know that little annoying kid who thinks he's all that and a bag of chips? I could name him with several examples of kids I remember, but that would be rude. That's what this house is full of. Annoying Polos. And they shout at me all day.

Plus. And this is an image from my mother. My love tank is emptied, like a little drip, all stinkin day. Just drained, sometimes punctured, throughout my waking hours. Rushing, seeping, whatever--it depletes until I have this little sloshing at the bottom like backwash. I want Jacob to be able to do his homework on his own. He's almost 12. I want him to be self-sufficient and confident and accountable and dependable and responsible. I don't want to fuss anymore or care that he's fallen behind or slipped up on homework. I don't want to have to check everyday (every. day.) with him, backtracking, confirming and reaffirming him. It's not very rewarding. And at 4 pm, I'm close to empty anyway. Ellie isn't napping well (or at all), the house is a disaster (did I mention that already?) and I've still not eaten yet. Grrrr. And we haven't even gotten to Nick getting home at 6 needing me to cut his hair into a "fauxhawk" for the cross country meet Saturday and Steve wondering why Ellie is in a bad mood and, with that look in his eyes, kind of sort of blaming me for her new habit called Throwing When I'm Frustrated.

And then I think of Fulton. And here's what he has to say about my plight. He's quite understanding.

“Love is the key to the mystery. Love by its very nature is not selfish, but generous. It seeks not its own, but the good of others. The measure of love is not the pleasure it gives-that is the way the world judges it-but the joy and peace it can purchase for others.” 

“Love burdens itself with the wants and woes and losses and even the wrongs of others.”  

“Each of us makes his own weather, determines the color of the skies in the emotional universe which he inhabits.” 

 “To value only what can be "sold" is to defile what is truly precious. The innocent joy of childhood, the devotedness of a wife, the self sacrificing service of a daughter--none of these have an earthly market. To reduce everything to the dirty scales of economic values is to forget that some gifts, like Mary's, are so precious that the heart that offers them will be praised as long as time endures.” 

And, I think, my favorite:

“The mark of man is initiative, but the mark of woman is cooperation. Man talks about freedom; woman about sympathy, love, sacrifice. Man cooperates with nature; woman cooperates with God. Man was called to till the earth, to "rule over the earth"; woman to be the bearer of a life that comes from God.” 

And there goes the filling back up of the tank. From within. My life is beautiful and a gift, and I know this to be true. I want so badly to matter. To really matter. And I realize, in the still quiet of my heartbeat, that I do. I mean, who's going to perfect the fauxhawk if I'm not around?

Endless Song

Every time I hear this song, I pray they are my last words. They bring me comfort and serenity in times of confusion or doubt. I find myself singing this song in the car or in the kitchen, and I love how the Holy Spirit must be giving it to me to remind me of the source of all strength and peace! "No storm can shake your inmost calm, Katie! What are you worrying for?"

The last few days have been interesting ones in our house. The boys started school. I started back to a mom's group I belong to. Steve is in conversation with some people regarding future opportunities. (That sounds like a mafia. For the record, he is not Capone.) We had a very big, crossroads kind of conversation with Nick regarding his "girlfriend" and, well. Should I just say that Steve used the phrases "playing with fire," "too big for your britches," "we're going to help you by eliminating some things for you," "in over your head," "possibly next year." We still pray for another baby and we still praise God for His many blessings. We are grateful but not satisfied. Is that an oxymoron?

Today, I will keep this in mind. God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. Oh, happy day!

My life goes on in endless song
above earth's lamentations,
I hear the real, though far-off hymn
that hails a new creation!

Through all the tumult and the strife
I hear its music ringing,
It sounds and echos in my soul.
How can I keep from singing?

No storm can shake my inmost calm,
While to the rock I'm clinging!
Since love is lord of heaven and earth
How can I keep from singing?

New Panty Day

 So. There's something about beginnings that gets people all "hot and bothered." Everyone likes a beginning, whether or not it's a new start to the year, the diet, the school semester, the project, the goal. New beginnings signal another chance to be right, to be good, to be successful. They are so full of hope and promise, some people like a new beginning everyday! And why not? Breaking fast is such a simple way to say, "Ok. I'm starting again. Not giving up. It's a new day. I've never lived this one before, so let's see what I can do with it." (That's a really good breakfast.)

My second favorite beginning is school starting. I love all that goes along with it, so much so that my boys think I'm the one going to school September 6th. I like the new supplies, the new socks, the new teacher, the new locker, the new friends, the new hope for great. Checking off the supply list does something to my heart. It's real love, I think.

My first favorite beginning is new panties. I love them. I don't buy them often. In fact, I buy them so seldomly my friends have taken to mailing me sets for my birthday. I don't know what it is about my unmentionables (that I'm mentioning) that makes me think they are made of steel and will survive the next nuclear holocaust. I wear them until they are riddled with holes and don't qualify as a garment anymore. But buying new panties, the 5 for $25 or even the 3 for $25 (splurge) is so exciting I feel like a new person. Kind of like new mascara, only better. And more colorful.

So today, my first day after LASIK surgery, I bought new panties. I figured, new eyes, new underwear.

Ellie agreed. New panties rock.

This summer, we celebrated my dad's beginning of a new decade. He turned 60 July 29th, so we all met Mom and Dad in Wyoming for a week of hiking, rafting, nail polish and napping. It was one of those times in my life that will always be remembered--we were all there. Dad kept mentioning it made him sad that Susie and Ellie won't really remember coming. That for them, it will all be only pictures. Of course Jack won't remember either, and neither will all the other grandbabies who will come along (God willing!) who won't even be in the pictures. Nick and Jacob will tell the stories and hopefully they'll remind the little ones of how much we are all loved and cherished by Daddy-O and Mamalise.


Right. Enough of that. Beginning again in this blog, here are some of those very pictures, taken
by David, my brother. He captured the essence of that week so well--joyful, energetic and so good for the soul.

The O'Banions.

Oh, Leigh. She's so good for Ellie.

 

Great idea.

Happy 2nd birthday, sweet girl.

The Banshees.

Oh Ellie.

Susie and Jacob. He loves that she loves him.

My Big Little Boys

It was a fun week in our house-- Jacob and Nick graduated from elementary and middle school and ended their first full year of school New Jersey. I can't believe how big they've gotten, how different they are from the children I met over four years ago. They have shared their lives with me, and I am privileged to get to love them.

Halloween 2010

Something scared Jacob. . . was it me?!

February 2011

Summer 2011

Now, they are young men who make Steve and me so proud. They are precious, funny, curious, imperfect children of God who test our patience and understandings while giving us such unabashed, limitless love. We are blessed to be on this journey with two such special people. Oh, the places you'll go!

5th Grade Recognition on Monday.

8th Grade Graduation on Wednesday. 

Last day of school on Thursday! Busy week. :)

I do!!

During Pentecost Sunday, we witnessed three people complete their Sacraments of Initiation by receiving the gift of Confirmation, being sealed by the Holy Spirit. I don't remember the day I received the Holy Spirit (on the calendar, not in my memory--I remember the day very well!), but I think Confirmation should always be on Pentecost. Maybe it is and I'm just late to the party. Totally possible. 

Before they received the gifts of the Holy Spirit, as is customary, we stood as a congregation to affirm them and to reaffirm our baptismal promises. I. Love. Doing. This. It makes me cry--more like gently weep--each time I do this. Because we are most often baptized as infants in the Catholic Church, it is one of the few, if only, sacraments we don't remember receiving. So, the renewal of these original promises made by my parents and godparents feels like I'm stamping a big fat YES onto the initial document. I imagine it's like renewing your wedding vows.

When I stand, I picture that I'm either in front of God, and he's asking me these questions, or in front of an executioner. My life depends on these answers. Would I stand just as proudly in front of someone wanting to kill me for my beliefs as I would in front of someone wanting to love me for them? Each time I say "I do," my heart fills up and "I can feel the love!" as my Arizona friend would say. It truly is an affirmation of faith. As the priest (or God or Executioner Man) asks, we answer.

Do you reject Satan?
 

I do.
 

And all his works?
 

I do.
 

And all his empty promises? 

I do.
 

Do you believe in God, the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth?
 

I do.
 

Do you believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary was crucified, died, and was buried, rose from the dead, and is now seated at the right hand of the Father?
 

I do.
 

Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting? 

I do.
 

God, the all-powerful Father of our Lord Jesus Christ has given us a new birth by water and the Holy Spirit, and forgiven all our sins. May he also keep us faithful to our Lord Jesus Christ for ever and ever.
 

Amen.

BC and AC

Dress up day. I wish everyday was.

Before Children, I had:

1. The top to my hairspray
2. Scissors
3. Paintbrushes in the clean bucket I put under my sink
4. Clean fingernails
5. Baths
6. Shiny car interior. I'm talking SHINY CLEAN.
7. Bobby pins
8. A Martha Stewart looking coffee table. With Martha Stewart looking breakable objects and fancy books.
9. My own bed
10. Long Saturday afternoon hair appointments
11. Less (aka NO) clutter
12. Two loads of laundry--a week
13. Lots of take-out
14. Dusted shelves
15. A cat

My sweets.

After Children, I have:

1. Topless toiletries
2. Lost modesty
3. Public bathroom lessons
4. Breaking fingernails
5. Mountains of laundry
6. Hiding Cheerios in my car
7. Lost objects. Nothing is anyone's "own" anymore.
8. A dog
9. Gray hair
10. Less time
11. Shorter mornings
12. Half of the bed
13. Lessons on tattling, bullying, sex, responsibility, lunch money
14. Mismatched socks
15. Peanut butter stuck to the counter. STUCK.

Getting a drink for Daddy. Sort of.

Of course, these are the things I think of when I'm frustrated. There is a different side to this list, and I love that one, too. I had things, time, independence, solitude, a small refrigerator--all were part of my particular picture of "SWF." Now, yes, I find Ellie wearing Steve's boxers around her head because she thinks they're "beee-yoo-te-FUL assessories" like Fancy Nancy, and Jacob in a pile of Legos when his room should be declared a National Disaster Site and Nick deep in a Halo book texting while turning pages. I find these things, these people, and they make me smile. Be still my heart! I have (and don't have) so much. God is good, all the time. And though I miss sometimes those quiet afternoons and dependably placed scissors, I would not give away my messy life for a clean car anyday. And I never thought I'd be able to say that.

Lord, I'm Coming!

I follow the blog, My child, I love you. It's beautiful. It's funny and caring and patient.  I'd like to quote from Lindsay's entry made January 20, 2010. She says: 

"We are made saints by doing our daily work beautifully. Not necessarily without tears, without frustrations, but with the resolve that God is teaching me something through this. Please open my heart. It may be a fussy baby. It may be a baby that doesn't sleep. It may be job insecurity. Whatever the issue, it is much bigger in the spiritual realm than we even know. The crosses I had picked for myself were along the lines of things outside our home. I didn't know that He was going to ask me to simply hold a fussy baby, be kind to John when I am filled with worry about a certain child, clean up vomit without complaining. Everything that happens now I try to respond in my head, "I'm coming, Lord." I try to treat everything as if God is calling me. I see the house a mess, "I'm coming, Lord." I have a fussy baby at my leg, "I'm coming, Lord." I hear the baby crying for the eighth time in the middle of the night, "I'm coming, Lord." It is my goal. Most of us will not die a bloody martyrdom for our faith, but we will be asked to die a dry martyrdom. Each day, one fuss at a time we can grow closer and closer to His heart. I want to be faithful in the small things. I hope at the end of my life He will say to me, 'Well done, my good and faithful servant.'"

This is my mid-year resolution. "I'm coming, Lord."

 

Also, she posts this--a note her mother wrote to her, following her husband's (Lindsay's dad) death.

"Wish I had Known"

"If I could rewind my mothering career, I would have put more energy and emphasis into being a better wife. Our primary vocation is to be a wife first and then a mother. Because of the exhausting demands of small children, most women lose focus on their marriage. Either they overlook their spouse and put him on the bottom of their “to-do” lists or they begin to treat him “as one of the children.” The bond of marriage is stronger than the bond of children because in marriage, “two become one flesh”—one flesh—you are no longer a single person after marriage you become absorbed into your husband.

I wish I had known how a man feels like a failure at work each day, and look to their wives to make them feel like a hero. If he comes home to a wretch, he feels like a failure at work and at home.

I wish I had known that a man is afraid that he can’t be a good provider, good husband, and good father, and that he doesn’t know what to do with his fear. I believe that anger is a sign of fear. I wish I had known that he wasn’t mad at me and that he was only afraid of NOT having the answers to life’s problems or quandaries.

I wish I had known that a man is afraid of NOT measuring up to other men, sometimes his own father and sometimes he’s afraid of NOT being able to measure up to the expectations of his wife. I wish I had known that God leads through the husband—not the wife. And even if the man’s decisions turn out to be disastrous, that a wife’s obedience will be blessed by God.

I wish I had known that the problems in raising children are the devil’s most powerful attacks on a marriage. The devil is after the marriage NOT the child. If he can destroy the marriage, he has captured the whole family in one swoop.

I wish I had appreciated the 1 million unseen, taken for granted acts of service. When they are gone there is a hole. My dear mother said “when you have a team each player has a role that is irreplaceable. When one member of the team is gone the entire team feels the loss.”

I wish I had been a better listener to his daily ups and downs instead of being focused on the woes and workings of my life.

I wish I had been more willing to fulfill his needs instead of trying to fulfill mine.

I wish I had been a better friend. As St. Francis said perfectly, “Master, grant that I may never seek to be consoled, as to consol. To be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love.” I wish that I could have consoled him more, understood him more and loved him more than I expected of him.

Be an excellent wife, you never how long you will have him."

I, Katie, get so, so, so caught up in the everyday failings of my life. In the everyday "I should have done betters." I wonder what the point is, I wonder what I'm doing. "Really, Lord?! This is how you want me spending this precious gift of life you gave me--going to track meets and reheating leftovers and sorting underwear? Argh. I've made this bed a hundred times and I hate it everytime I do. Why doesn't anyone else pick up their stuff? Why am I the only one who sees the shoes everywhere?! I wasn't made for this. I'm not good at it. I'm failing." 

This is sinful and discouraging and so damn easy to fall into! Lord, make me an instrument of your peace. Make me a saint.

Integrity

It's a complicated idea. It is multifaceted and applicable in a variety of subjects: intelligence, morality, environmental, personal, cultural, artistic. Online, I found a site that reminds us: "The word "integrity" stems from the Latin adjective integer (whole, complete). In this context, integrity is the inner sense of "wholeness" deriving from qualities such as honesty and consistency of character. As such, one may judge that others 'have integrity' to the extent that they act according to the values, beliefs and principles they claim to hold."

Ben Franklin's virtues were his daily checklist. He decided, each evening, how "well" he had lived that day by checking off the following boxes:

1. Temperance: Eat not to Dullness. Drink not to Elevation.
2. Silence: Speak not but what may benefit others or yourself. Avoid trifling Conversation.
3. Order: Let all your Things have their Places. Let each Part of your Business have its Time.
4. Resolution: Resolve to perform what you ought. Perform without fail what you resolve.
5. Frugality: Make no Expense but to do good to others or yourself; i.e. Waste nothing.
6. Industry: Lose no Time. Be always employed in something useful. Cut off all unnecessary Actions.
7. Sincerity: Use no hurtful Deceit. Think innocently and justly; and, if you speak, speak accordingly.
8. Justice: Wrong none, by doing Injuries or omitting the Benefits that are your Duty.
9. Moderation: Avoid Extremes. Forbear resenting Injuries so much as you think they deserve.
10. Cleanliness: Tolerate no Uncleanness in Body, Clothes or Habitation.
11. Tranquility: Be not disturbed at Trifles, or at Accidents common or unavoidable.
12. Chastity: Rarely use Venery but for Health or Offspring; Never to Dullness, Weakness, or the Injury of your own or another's Peace or Reputation.
13. Humility: Imitate Jesus and Socrates

I've never thought of this before. "At the opposite ends of the moral spectrum are holiness and multiplicity. This pairing of polar opposites may seem odd at first, but it is solidly biblical. Holiness is so named because it represents wholeness or unity of personality. God is eminently holy. . .God, who is “the fullness of Being and of every perfection” (Catechism, no. 213), has the character of simplicity. For St. Augustine, “God is truly and absolutely simple.” Multiplicity is fragmentation, fractionalization, dispersion, dividedness." You know the phrase, "going to pieces?" Well, there you go.

This is a harder paragraph, but worth the thinking: "Because our unity of personality demands the integration of its parts, there is always the possibility that we can break up (“dis-integrate”) into discordant pieces. But what are these parts that must be integrated if the person is to be whole? There are many lines along which personality can be unified. There is the integrity between word and deed, friendship and fidelity, private life and public life, mind and body, head and heart." (http://catholiceducation.org/articles/religion/re0352.html) The italics are mine for emphasis.

It is my desire to have integrity, to possess it, to (as my Bible study friend says) CLAIM it! As I'm typing this, I can think of times and crossroads in my life where I have failed to be a person of integrity, where my actions did not unify my behavior to my beliefs, whereby I felt fragmented and disintegrated. I do not want to be like this, and I don't want people to see me this way. I want to be a woman of my word. If we are "as good as our word," I want to be dependable, good and honorable. I want to try to say "no" to things I cannot do, and yes to things I can. I want to mean what I say (not necessarily say what I mean!). I want to make friends with people who strive to act this way, too. I've recently experienced something that taught me email and texting are very, very, VERY easy and comfortable modes of shirking and backing out. How clever it was of someone to invent ways to "communicate" with people without ever having to talk to them! I just experienced, in mass proportion, people being untrue to their word, fragmented and disgenuine. It hurt me, it was unkind, rude and incredibly convenient for everyone involved. . .but me. It was not virtuous at all, and it proved a big wake up call to me! I behave this way sometimes, and I am going to try, very hard, to avoid this at all costs. No one called. . .I'm guessing no one could actually communicate with me in such a personal way! They all dropped like flies as the day pressed on--lots of apologies and excuses and explanations, but in the end, the message was still the same from everyone "I'm not going to do what I told you I would. I'm going to leave you out to dry while I go on with my more important plans." 

This is my promise, oh Dogwood Trail and Cosmic Power! I promise to try to be cognizant of my agreements, to be sensitive to making them and be a person of integrity. I promise to try to be the best person, the most whole person I can be, with the help of the Holy Spirit and good sleep. I promise to try to be a woman of my word and a person who can be trusted, depended on and admired. 

I'm printing out ol' Ben's virtues and taping them to my mirror.

Suffering

No one likes to suffer. We don't even like paper cuts, for heaven's sake. They hurt, and we would rather not be inflicted by them. We don't like to struggle, we don't like to hurt, we don't like to be confused. And I don't think these "preferences" are bad; I think they are human. After all, even Christ, as fully human, did not want to suffer! (Matthew 26:38-39)

So, I'm suffering. I'll just admit it. The reasons are private and even too intimate for me to feel like typing (odd, yes?!), but suffice it to say that we would like the prayers of heaven and the planets and all the stars. We would like to have something that might not end up being our gift, and, as an American, as a woman, as a human being!, I don't like being told "no, that's not possible for you." What? Sorry, but don't you know, Mr. God, that come hell or high water, I eventually get what I want? Or, I just change my mind and then that "becomes" what I want? Steve and I are suffering, and we just don't want to. It hurts and it is difficult, and I know in this cross we will find joy and some kind of peace, but I don't want to go through the cross to find the happiness. I'd rather it be given to me easily.

I heard in a talk the other day we should be like little children, with our hands open, patiently waiting for the gifts God will give us. We should stand, with our faces towards God and heaven, being grateful for what is freely given and not grasping at things or people or stuff or hopes or, I guess, anything (Phil 2:6). We are to gladly accept what is given to us by our Father and not reach for those cookies in the cabinet (even if they are Girl Scout ones). If we can be like this, we can live our lives in complete and constant thanksgiving for the gifts we receive, rather than being bitter or resentful or feeling like life is unfair for the gifts we DON'T receive!

Jesus and all the saints and the stars in the heavens, help me to suffer with courage and peace of mind and stillness, and help me receive your undeserved graces gladly!