Home for Christmas

 Dear College Kid and Post-Grads, 

Welcome Home! You are finally here! And we are so happy to welcome you. It's been a long semester. You've faced trials and tribulations. You still need to meet your own benchmarks and others you've exceeded. But it's over now. For now, you must rest. For now, you are released from your duties and obligations for studying and group projects. You don't have to worry about homework and practice and when to wake up and when to eat. You are home. You can sleep until noon. We are here to love you back to health and wellness and give you that unmistakable feeling of home. 

Some things haven't changed here at home. There will be bacon and eggs for breakfast and we will get cream donuts from McMillan's tomorrow. We will have bagels and cream cheese one morning. Some things are new to us. We will order the meat lover's pizza. We will make room on the shelf for your protein powder. Some things have changed. We painted the front door. We took down the curtains in the bathroom. We hope you like it. We may have overdecorated a bit, but bear with us. 

Why do we come home for Christmas? It's in every song you hear. Baby, please come home. Driving home for Christmas. Home for the holidays. Every one of us, no matter our age, longs for home at Christmas. We long for the days of yore, that time when we were held, when we believed, when we thought magic was real. In our jaded world, and our jaded souls, we have a yearning to return to that time.

Let me tell you a story. When you are little, Christmas is magical. You believe in Santa and miracles and anticipate the surprise and delight of Christmas morning. Then in your tween years, you lose a little innocence and that delight becomes knowledge about Christmas and the spirit of giving. And you are learning to give a little yourself.  Then in your twenties, you might become discouraged and you have lost hope that things are ever going to be okay. You don't even believe in searching for the magic again. You are giving up. The magic and memories of childhood seem delusional but you still wish deep down for a return to those very memories, those very moments. We wish we could come Home for Christmas, back to a time when all seemed right with the world. 

Except was that true? Every generation has faced its own Christmases at war. Every generation has faced its own political strife. Every generation has faced its own bills and losses, its family sick and ill and dying. We all learn as young adults that Christmas is not a coverup, just that the adults were cushioning us from the fear and the darkness. Now you are on the other side. You no longer believe in the innocence of youth and the magic of a sleigh. It seems impossible to go back, except it's not. It can happen in your heart. Sounds cliche? All you have to do is believe. 

And what do you believe? Do you believe in the literal light, the star in the darkness? No, the darkness is not in the sky; it's in our hearts and souls and minds. It's in our world. It's in the grocery store and the checkout line. It's when we are in a rush and the car is out of gas and we're stuck in traffic. It's in the news that a loved one is sick. It's in canceled plans. It's in the bills we owe. It's in the headlines we hear and read online. It's in countries far and in neighborhoods near. So how do we bring light? We bring it bit by bit. We light one small candle. Remember the song you learned in Pre-K? One small candle? Our own. We do our best. We buy the gas. We take a deep breath.  We pay the bill. We close our eyes and pray.  Pause and feel the lightness. Light a candle. 

Where do we get the light? We relight the pilot flame in our homes and at our hearths. We feed on home-cooked food and on quiet moments. We nourish ourselves with a song, a cup of hot cocoa, a glass of wine. We order the pizza you like. We laugh. We snuggle on the couch and watch an old movie. But we also let our hearts be open. Open to love. Open to light. Open to joy. Open to happiness. It's okay to let the light in. Nothing is going to change the world unless we do. Feeling sad and glum is not going to bring peace to Israel and Gaza and Ukraine. But allowing peace in our hearts will change our little world. Our little space here at home. 

We rebuild our spirit. The spirit that lives within us. And then we can give. We give joy. We bring joy to the small moments each day. We smile in the checkout line. We host the party. We offer to help. We deliver food to the hungry. We give of ourselves. We give of our time.  We  give of our treasures and send a check. We bring light to the dark world. It's not out there. It's in us.  Both the darkness and the light. Let the light prevail. It's not just for the world, it's for us too, in our souls that we must allow the Light to come. 

With love on Christmas. 

College

 I've been in college far too long. I've failed terribly and I've thrived epically too. But after a while, you should just be done. Like Sam Hartman. My family knows that I'm not a big fan. If you are 24 playing against kids who are on average 19 and 20, maybe it's time to move on. I mean I know it's tempting, but really, maybe you need to play against people your own age? Sorry, Sam. 

I'm not done for those reasons and I don't mean that I'm a student either. I'm a mom of college-age kids. For the past 6 years, since 2017, I have had one or more kids in college. And those are where I've had my toughest losses and my greatest gains. It hasn't been easy. Some days I'm on my A-game. Some days I'm on the DL - the disabled list, or the down low. I shouldn't be in the game, but they still play me. I don't have any good answers and I forget to turn off my teacher voice. It's different having kids in college than when I actually attended college. Then I signed up for a major and took classes and found all the answers in books. And the lectures from the professors. And lots of lessons from my classmates. And lots from teammates too. But now, there are no books. There are no plays I can memorize and no study halls I can attend. It's just a little bit of experience, a little bit of stories I've heard from other moms, and a lot of listening to myself, but mostly listening to my kids. These are tough lessons to learn. For each kid, there is a different set of rules. When we picked up Jay at school, he was happy to answer all our questions. He was happy to share who his friends were, where they were from, what he'd been doing, how he slept and what he ate. And when he said, "Any more questions?" Annie yelled at him, "What are you doing? Now you are setting the rest of us up to have to answer all their questions!" We learned quickly not to do that with her. Good lesson.

Today, one of these scenarios unfolded. My youngest had a crew regatta in Princeton. It was a beautiful day! Low 60s, some sun and some clouds, a gorgeous flat river, and trees of all hues lining the course. A stone bridge where we could line up with other families to cheer on our boats as they rowed underneath. He even recognized me from out on the river as I was wildly thrashing my arms about. He turned to his friends in the boat saying, "Hey, is that my mom?" and the whole boat turned to look at us up on the bridge as they passed beneath. We waved and cheered. Epic moment. For me. Poor Charlie.

When they had docked and de-rigged and were warming up and eating, we hugged and talked and laughed about home and the dog and what's been happening. We hadn't seen him in a few weeks and lots had gone on and while we had communicated via FaceTime once or twice, they were quick conversations punctuated by meal times and upcoming tests and "Gotta go, Mom. Love ya." There was not a lot of time to assess how things really were. So today was that time. And he filled us in on school and campus and friends. And it was wonderful. It was bliss. And then I failed. I failed to follow the basic law of family - which is don't ask outside resources what they think. And that's exactly what he called me out on. And I don't know why I did it. Why ask another mom to back you up when you know that will backfire, sealing your fate? Don't do it! It's not fair. Why did I do it? Because he was using his teammates as his backup and I tried to up the ante. Not cool. Incomplete pass. Or maybe a turnover. She's on the opposing team as far as he's concerned.

I've learned a lot these last 6 years. I would write a manual if I could, but I don't think it's possible. What would the chapter titles be? Letting Go. Sure, everyone knows that. But how do you do it? That's impossible to put into words. Calming Down. As in maybe you don't need to wave both arms overhead at the same time after your son has just completed a harrowing race? Shutting Up. Another easy one, except that in the moment you just want to say one. more. thing. Seeking Advice. Never, never, never from another kid's mom. Especially in front of your own kid.

So, I guess I can't leave college yet, or I couldn't even if I tried. I have at least 2 1/2 more years. With graduate school looming, who knows how long? And I'm not ready to graduate. I haven't learned all the lessons yet. But maybe, like Sam Hartman, I'll just learn to take responsibility and bear the losses. Maybe that's a good lesson too, for both Charlie and me. Maybe he is the author of this manual. Jay had his own, and Annie her own, and Matt his own. And that's how I'll have to learn - from them. I just wish I got a nice fancy diploma at the end. I think I've earned it. 

Only the Dog

No one hangs on my leg any more as I leave the house.

Only the dog.

No one wants to know where I'm going and when I'll be back.

Only the dog.

No one responds to my texts about shopping when I ask what everyone wants.

No one runs to greet me when I return home.

Only the dog.

No one gets underfoot to carry the groceries in and help unload.

Only the dog.

Everyone comes when I start cooking dinner and wants to know what that smell is.

Even the dog. 

August

Every day in August is a Sunday... maybe you've heard this before, probably from a teacher. Every day in June is like a Friday, every day in July is like a Saturday, and every day in August is like a Sunday. All that anticipation of BTS. My nieces have a rule not to use the "S" word. You know, the one that starts with s,c,h. Shh - don't say it. That time of year when everything ramps up - kids, paperwork, forms, shopping, planning, packing, scheduling, and trying so hard to fit in one more moment of summer and to APPRECIATE it before it's all gone. I don't have any advice. I don't know how to relish the days or to make them last longer. I don't know how to slow things down. I think trying to just makes it worse. I've tried countdowns and picturing today as the last day of summer and none of it works. I asked a teacher friend how many days he had left before returning to school and he said, "Oh, I don't count." So I'm trying that. It's not really working because the looming end is there whether I recognize it or not. But I think what might help a little is to take stock of everything that's happened, not this summer, but maybe this month, or this week. So here's a top five list for this week:

1. Time to pause - I'm savoring my morning rituals with quiet time for coffee and candles because in a few weeks there just won't be any time. My husband and I have been sitting here almost every morning. Sunflowers make it special!

2. House projects - these materials were all down the basement and I finally got everything together to make this new shelf. It feels so good to accomplish something, anything that makes a space feel new again. And it's another checklist item I can cross off!

3. Time outside - Yesterday I asked Annie if she wanted to eat outside and when she said no, I reminded her that winter is long... sorry. She repeated it to me later. So we have to enjoy it, no matter what we are doing: gardening, walking, swimming, hiking, laying on the beach or by the pool, eating al fresco! Just get out there and soak it in. 

4. Friends for lunch - I had friends over for a late summer afternoon and I made cucumber gazpacho. Yummy delicious food, preferably from your garden, helps. (My cukes were from produce junction:( ) Time with friends helps! 

5. Time for fun - Last night my cousin played with his band "Asbury Fever" at a free outdoor concert - a full old-school set list of BRUCE songs and it was wonderful! I danced my heart out! Why isn't Thunder Road on my playlist? And who knew that I know every word to Trapped?!  It's not too late to find free stuff to do.

One more thing I am doing is spending special time with each child before they go back to school. Yesterday, Annie and I drove to do some "Destination Shopping". Did you know this is a thing? My definition is different than the retailers' definition though. We drive somewhere off the beaten path, where there's secondhand shops, good food, and nice scenery. Our drive there is half the fun! We drove out to Devon and Wayne, PA, to visit our tried and true places. We listened to our own old songs in the car and Annie surprised with a few old songs from when she was little, like Martina McBride's This One's For the Girls!  She didn't like it when I started crying though. Today Charlie and I are going to lunch at his favorite BBQ place. I promise not to cry. No pressure, no agenda, just a nice lunch. 

Just writing this is helping me to savor these days. I guess it's like self-care for summer, or Summer-Care. What's on your Top Five this week? What can you put on your weekend list to make it special? Enjoy and take care of your summer! 

Homecoming

 One of the great joys of parenthood is when your child comes home. It doesn't really matter where they have been, just that they are home. Sometimes it can be from school and you were worried when you sent them out the door, about their friends, their tests, their work. Sometimes it can be from an outing and you were hopeful things would go as planned or as they imagined. Sometimes it is from their first job and they walk through the door exasperated and exhausted and you can cook them something and they feel better. Sometimes it can be from college and you are so grateful to see them again and hold them in your arms. And sometimes it can be from very far away after a very long time and they are transformed from when they left you. And you have to pause and say, Oh my goodness. Who is this? Where have you been? How are you? How are we now that you have this new story to tell? 

This week Matt got home from Alaska, after 40 days working as a fishing quality control monitor on a boat in the Naknek River. And he is different. When we picked him up, spotting him in the midst of the nighttime crowd in the darkness surrounding Newark Airport, he raised his arm when he saw us over rows of cars and taxis. The joy of that image is still with me. He was wearing a hoodie and carrying two huge bags of gear and he had a beard, the kind that is patchy and not quite full even after 40 days of not shaving. And he had a big grin because he was happy to see us but I also think part of it was that he knew how happy we were to see him. I couldn't hug him long enough - long enough to know he was solid and sure and good. That's the worst part about airports - there should be a Hug Lot, like the cellphone lot, where you can at least get a good hug in before having to rush out, dodging cars and traffic so you don't hold anything up. Anyway, we hugged long enough for me to know he wasn't the same nervous kid we had left off at the Philly airport weeks before. He was new. New for all the reasons you can imagine. For meeting new people. For trying new things. For learning new ways. For the sheer fact that he had traveled so very far. (He was closer to Russia than he was to our house!) 

As Matt sat and told us the tales of his adventures and showed us pictures on his phone from his boat, from a float plane he traveled on to Katmai, from a hike he took in Colorado on his way back home, I couldn't listen. I listened, but I couldn't pay attention. I was flooded with the images in my own memory of him as a little kid, fishing at Grandfather's. Of him climbing mountains and hills when I was there to see that he was safe. Of him and his best friend setting trails in the nearby woods so they could ride their bikes over jumps. Of him going off to college and then returning home because the school wasn't the right fit. And I couldn't believe this was the same boy, the same one who is now using words like galley, and crane and hold and cargo and weight checks and temperatures and RSW, which is Refrigerated Sea Water, in case you want to know, in telling us stories of another world, one I will never see. The one who is telling us about eating some bad fried food just before a storm sent 40-foot surges of water up over the boat, making him seasick that one time. The one who is telling us about people he's met and will hopefully stay in touch with, who he plans to see again next year. The girl (is it Caroline?) who calls and tells them what boat to get on next and where to go. And I can't collect all the details, it's like my mind is too full of these images and ideas and I'm trying to place him there and yet keep him where I knew him best.

It's hard because I can't keep up and yet I can't shut down the memories and yet at the same time, I just want to take him in. I want to remember the chiseled features of his face. (Did he eat enough?) I want to reach out and touch his big muscular arms. (Did they work him too hard?) I want to remember his little yawns that he tries to swallow and hide in his conversation. (Did he get enough sleep? Where did he sleep?)   He looks only a little tan. (Thank goodness he used sunscreen!)  It's as if I'm the quality control monitor now, analyzing everything and computing how good it really was and if he actually did well. And I know he did. I feel it from his words and between all the things he's not saying, with the little smiles that light up his face as he recalls what it was all about.

And then I am brought back to reality because I ask a question that he just answered and I should have been listening. I quickly shake my head and say Oh, right! Sorry! And I want to say, "I was just in my head, thinking about all the befores that have led you to this point, to this day, to this life, and let me tell you how wonderful it is to see you! To see you embracing this life! To be full of wonder and curiosity - about people and places and worlds! And how absolutely wonderful it is to have you Home! "

And so I just say, It is so good to have you Home.

Right Here.

 

I have a recurring dream where we live in a house and we suddenly realize there is another whole room that we didn't know was there. It's usually cute and just needs a little touch up. They say these dreams occur when we learn something new, or have a new awakening. Well, this is about an awakening of sorts. 

I am sitting here, in my back porch, which is enclosed in screens and windows and a little door outside, which is why I say in. And as I sit here, I've been working all day. And as I've been working, I've been literally lamenting the fact that I don't have a desk or a better place to sit, or a place to store things, or a place to do more. I am sitting on the couch with an old TV table from the attic in front of me and a little pencil holder and papers spread all around me. I lean forward to type and it's annoying. The cushions from the outside furniture are piled next to the windows and they are annoying too, haphazardly thrown about and piled. And I'm wondering when I can get my office upstairs back. Should I move the boys around again? Should I reclaim a desk in my bedroom? And why does everyone in this house have a desk except for me? And I'm working! And I need a desk to work! And so on and so on. And I begin to feel overwhelmed and frustrated. 

And then I look up. I look around. And sitting here on the floor next to me are a table, two desk chairs that were discarded by their previous owners, my kids, and a file cabinet I trash-picked back in April. And I'm lamenting a lack of a desk. I'm thirsting in water. I'm hungry in a pantry. What is it that blinds us? Stress? Overwhelm? Nostalgia? I don't know. Maybe I've been looking at Instagram too much and wishing I had the offices of the rich and famous. 

Yesterday a friend shared a poem by e.e. cummings that I had never heard before. thank you God for most this amazing. These are the last two lines...

(now the ears of my ears awake and
now the eyes of my eyes are opened)

It is so beautiful. And the whole poem is truly eye-opening. I love when poetry is a prayer. I am trying to keep my eyes open, but I could not see. All of the things I was missing are right in front of me. It's not even a metaphor - it's literally RIGHT. HERE. It was a pile of junk that I had to get rid of. And now even God laughs! He provided everything I needed. Maybe you are laughing too! Maybe you are like, How could you not see what was right in front of you? I don't know. So I have work to do. And it isn't much work. Unfold a table. Wiggle a chair and shelves around. Maybe spray-paint an old file cabinet. I'm thinking pink?

Even the poem was a gift. Something I needed to see and hear that was offered to me by a friend. We are so loved! We are so cared for! I hope you can open your eyes to what is around you. I hope you have a friend who is offering you a gift. I hope you have a poem that speaks to your soul. I have work to do. I will keep you posted with a picture of my new office once it is complete.

This friend and I were also sharing thoughts on becoming better people. I need to fix this and change that about myself. I have to eat better, workout better, pray better. I sometimes feel like an old junk pile that I have to clean out and fix up and get with it and be better. And guess what? It's not true. We are fine. Not like in the sense of "I'm fine, just fine." But really we are perfect. We are perfectly blind sometimes, we are perfectly stupid too. We are perfectly imperfect and we are just the way we need to be. 

Maybe there is more before me than I realize. I am already missing and lamenting that the kids will leave soon. In TWO MONTHS. Everything we have, everything we need is RIGHT. HERE.  

The Space Between

A crew mom from Charlie’s high school asked me for pictures from last year's end-of-year celebrations so that she can replicate some of the traditions we had. I was anxious to check through these emails so I could cross things off my growing list. But as I scrolled through old pictures, I got caught in a net of memories, people and places and smiles I’ll never forget, of Charlie’s days of high school rowing, which weren’t that long ago. Looking at his bright face through rowing, and prom and graduation, his seventh-grade awards ceremony, his third-grade class trip, then suddenly sitting in his college sweatshirt, not knowing yet what the future holds. How can this be? How can this moment have gotten here so fast? It still seems impossible to think that he is off to college. I just can’t help but see him as the little kid I relentlessly hugged without thinking, the little guy who ran around the yard chasing his older brothers and sister, the youngest and the easiest in so many ways. The pictures take me on a trip down memory lane, and really those are the pictures I hold in my heart: that little boy with chubby cheeks, a big smile and bright blue eyes. Now when we FaceTime, I have to pause and catch my heart up to the young man he is and the way he has grown since the last time we talked. I just have to look and wonder about who this handsome new guy is on my little screen. Can that be my Charlie? When we talk, we are always redefining the relationship and the parameters of what I should know and what I can't know. I ask too many questions. He told me that already. Don’t I remember? I have to tread lightly. When he gets home, I’ll go slowly. I’ll respond instead of investigating. Maybe he’ll let me take a few pictures.

For Annie though, this year is very different. College graduation. For all the writing I do about Letting Go and Leaving, and I’ve Got This, I don’t know one damn thing. I’m in denial. I. Can. Not. Believe. It. It is hard to quantify or qualify something you’ve never been through before. Even though Jay graduated and is off on his own, it’s different and it hits differently. How is it possible that my little girl is a college graduate? When they were off to college, it always felt to me that they were coming home eventually. Christmas, Spring Break, Summers. They would sleep in their beds again. They would eat the cereal again. They would do their laundry again. Now those days are limited. It still hasn’t sunk in fully. Each day brings me closer to the day they will actually leave.  Maybe when they leave the nest, it’s a bit like grief. I am going through the stages of leaving and going through the motions to learn to cope. One strategy: hope that they’ll come back. Back for Christmas. Back for summer vacation. Back Home. Soon though, they’ll have their own home, a new one away from us, away from Home.

Annie sent me a song the other day called, “Thought You Should Know.” Ugh. If you haven’t listened to it, grab tissues. “Those prayers you thought you wasted on me must’ve finally made their way on through…”  It’s by Morgan Wallen. I can’t believe she’s sending me this stuff! If she only knew how many, many, many prayers were said for her, all through her life. She should be my little girl again! I know that’s not true but that’s what my heart wants. Or at least part of my heart. Logically, I know we can’t go back, but just a glimpse of that little girl brings me such joy. It's the pictures in my mind that pull me back... Her toothless grin, her singing karaoke, her riding a horse, her holding her baby brother, her going to prom, her driving to school, her teaching a class. And a glimpse of the young woman she is brings me joy too. And of course, all she has yet to be! It doesn’t make sense at all, but that’s what it is. It’s like being in the fun house, with mirrors all around and you don’t know which image to look at. You can’t tell where to go, and yet you have glimpses of where you’ve been and teases of visions of where you can’t get to. No wonder it’s so hard.

I’ve been reading a lot about Liminal Space in Richard Rohr’s writing. The space between. The threshold. The doorway. We are all in this wide doorway to the next steps. How do we hold on to what is in the past, with all the love that conjures for us? How do we soak up the present and make each moment count? How do we let go enough to make room for the more love that’s coming? It feels impossible. 

The heart may have 4 ventricles, but I think there are 3 when it comes to our kids. The heart that belongs to when they were little, the heart that belongs to this moment, and the heart that is filled with dreams and hopes for them and their future. Every beat is for them: Longing for the past, love for the now, hope for what is to come. The past sucks us, willingly, back in time. We remember and we smile. Then the present, where we try to treasure and savor every moment. And the future, when and where will it take them? Suzanne Stabile of The Enneagram Journey says that Maturity is holding a place for all three, present, past, and future, and being willing to stand in that liminal space. Sounds good. As much as there's a part of me that doesn't want my children to grow up, I don't want to grow up either, not if maturity means I can't go back in time.

In our decorations for her graduation, we put up pictures of Annie’s life on the living room mantel, all the way back to when she was born. Even in that way, we bring the past with us. These baby pictures sit next to her diploma, her present, and next to that, gifts for her new apartment. So we are holding space for all three moments in time, past, present, and future. I wish our hearts could hold all three as easily. I wish our minds could too. Wherever you are in your seasons of children, I hope you are finding a way to hold all three. 

Angels

 When my kids were small, I would watch things happen and think, "Thank God there is a guardian angel watching over them." They would just miss the corner of the table as they fell off the couch. The glass would fall just inches from their face. The baseball would just miss their head as they went for a catch. Once I came home to see police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks in front of our house. A woman had driven her car up on our front lawn and had just missed where the kids had been playing with my husband a few moments before. Guardian Angels. Then there were times when it wasn't a miss, but a hit: the broken bones, the cuts, and scrapes, the poison ivy that sent us to the emergency room. (Yes, it was that bad.) But there were angels in the ER too. 

I thought that guardian angels were part of everyone's childhood. We used to say a prayer in elementary school, "Guardian Angel, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide." A child's fairy tale, a nursery rhyme. Even though I believed in her, this guardian angel, I thought I would outgrow her like the Easter bunny and the tooth fairy. It seemed that one day when I grew up, my guardian angel wouldn't be so necessary. I would just be more careful. I would be an adult. I would avoid trouble. I would understand physics in a way that would prevent me from getting in the way of tables, and doorjambs, and glasses, and flying baseballs. I don't quite know why, but it seemed like a child's prayer. 

I expected the same for my children. Once they were adults, they wouldn't need guardian angels. They would be more balanced, more graceful, more coordinated than their very uncoordinated mother. More easily able to avoid trouble. For some reason, I wasn't expecting to be praying for my adult children's guardian angels to Please take action! the way that I do now. When they leave the house, I pray. When they are overnight at a friend's, I pray. When they are traveling by plane, I pray. When they are driving, I pray. When they are in their rooms all day, I pray. When they are studying and tired, I pray. When they are anxious or worried. When they won't hug me back. When I think they aren't taking care of themselves, I pray. When they are partying. I hope those guardian angels are standing by their side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. When they are making decisions that I can't interfere with. When they are working hard and when they are not working hard, I hope and pray. I also pray for them to send little moments of joy to my kids. To lift them up. To brighten their days. To lighten their loads. 

As I look back now, I know that Guardian Angels have saved me as an adult plenty of times in the same ways - from making poor decisions, doing stupid stuff, and getting in car accidents. And they aren't only around to prevent the catastrophes. Once in my 20s, I was driving to a teaching interview on the Garden State Parkway in a competitive school district, almost in a full-blown panic attack. When I slowed down to pay the toll, the toll taker asked me how my day was going. I told him where I was going and he wished me luck. He told me I would do great! Maybe it sounds silly, but he was a guardian angel. My nerves were calmed, my focus restored, my confidence lifted. Guardian Angel. I got the job too!

I believe my grandmother sent me an angel when I was shopping for my wedding dress. My grandmother had throat cancer when I was young and used a voice amplifier to speak, making her voice sound deep and robotic and a little fuzzy. While I was trying on a wedding dress, I stepped out of the fitting room in a white dress. A woman approached me, and speaking with a voice amplifier, told me how beautiful I looked. I immediately thought of my grandmother who had died when I was in 8th grade. I thanked her and told her that I did really love the dress. When we went to purchase the dress, my mother and I mentioned this woman to the salesgirl. She said there hadn't been anyone else in the store. Guardian Angel. One I will always carry with me. Thankfully my mother had seen her too.

I believe I have walked with angels during the hardest and the best days of my life. They have always been there for me. I know they will be there for my children too, even when they are all grown up. I wish you, and your children, no matter how old they are, guardian angels too. Sometimes we have to look carefully for them, pray carefully for them, but they are around. We need all the help we can get... 

Love ya Mom!

 No these are not the words from my kids to me, they are from me to you: Moms out there who are doing it.

Love you Moms, who show up

Love you Moms, who do the toughest work behind the scenes.

Love you Moms, who put a smile on when all you want to do is cry, or at least nap.

Love you Moms, who offer a welcome to the newcomer, and a banana to the kids.

Love you Moms, who show vulnerability and bravery.

Love you Moms, who cut through the small talk and get to the good stuff.

Love you Moms, who share the hard parts.

Love you Moms, who share the recipes and the gardening tips.

Love you Moms, who listen too.

Love you Moms, who know what it is to pray, all day and all night some times. 

Love you Moms, who are carrying the loaded bags of goodies for our boys, my boy too.

Love you Moms, who are carrying heavy burdens.

Love you Moms, who lightening each other's loads.

You are amazing. You are beautiful. You are powerful. You are holding it all together and yet starting to breathe. You aren't holding so tightly anymore. You are still learning how much you have to give and you are saving some of it for yourself. You are reading the books and articles and listening to the podcasts and making your own content too. Just as we cheered for our kids today, I cheer you on as well. Love ya, Moms!

I was going to save this for Mother's Day, but we know everyday is mother's day. We know how much it takes to get this job done, and sometimes we get it wrong, but look, we are doing it. This weekend I got to know a wonderful bunch of women from my son's Lehigh crew team. It was delightful! We were the last tent taken down and the last moms standing on the banks of the river. There's something to be said for that - for hanging in and hanging out, joining the fun and relishing the moment. We only get these moments a few times in life. After COVID I appreciate them so much more. But today it wasn't the moment, it was the women. Who's your Love Ya Moms? Let her know how much you love her!

In Brokenness

I missed writing yesterday, Good Friday. I was preoccupied with getting my house cleaned, a Good Friday tradition in my home growing up. My mother called it a "Big Sweep" and the idea was that you had to clean everything, even under your bed. I don't recall that there was much of anything under my bed, but I guess we had to vacuum there too. 

Anyway, as I was cleaning I thoughtfully looked at the Blessed Mother statue on my dresser. I have had it since my grandmother gave it to me either for my first communion or confirmation, I'm not sure which. Either way, it was about 45 years ago! She is a staple there and some days go by when I don't pay much attention to her. She has traveled with me through life and has also collected the wear and tear of accumulated dust, stains, and brokenness.              

Because I wasn't always so careful, her halo is broken. Not just once, but three times. She has markings of coffee spilled on her and stains from dust and who knows what. But in every house, everywhere I've been, she has stood faithfully on my dresser. I like to think she blesses my jewelry! Haha - but maybe when I put my necklaces on, they have a special grace in them from the Blessed Mother. I should really take her somewhere to be cleaned - or at least try it myself. I wish I still had the pieces that broke off as she was knocked over by this or that. But in her brokenness, we see that we are imperfect. My halo is certainly cracked multiple times. I am covered with dust and coffee stains in my heart. And yet she still stands. How did she stand by the cross on that first Good Friday? I cannot begin to imagine the brokenness... But that is a mother's love. A love beyond all meaning... 

This day I wish you love in your brokenness. Love that fills you and makes you whole again. Love that Christ poured out for us on Good Friday that we could know how much we are loved. And with the grace of God, that you may continue to pour out your love for others. 

May you have a very blessed and holy Easter. May the grace of the Blessed Mother fill you in whatever brokenness you face.

Servants

 No, I do not have servants. I still clean my own house and my husband still does our lawn. We did have a company come to remove a tree, but we don't have servants. The idea of servants is a humbling one to me. I cannot imagine asking someone to do things for me that I could capably do myself. But there is the reverse concept too - Can I imagine myself serving others in a servant position? I don't know. There is something uncomfortable about it. 

In the social culture today there is a concept of the Servant Leader. It can be dated back to ancient times, but the basic principle is that a person serves the organization and its people and that the organization serves the person as well. Robert Greenleaf wrote a book on it in the 70s. One question for a servant leader to ask is, "Do we, and those we serve, grow as people?" I have worked for two women in my life who embody this principle. They are such magnanimous leaders that in their presence, you feel lifted. They were educated, thoughtful listeners, who led amazing organizations that were designed to serve. Each time we were to begin a project they would consistently offer support. "If you need anything, call me," is what they say. I aspire to be a servant-leader like that. The humility with which they bear their position inspires others to do more and to be more. 

Christ was like that. Today is Holy Thursday, the day on which we recall Jesus' washing of the feet. He served those he led and humbly cared for them. In ancient times, walking on dirt roads was, well, dirty. But how their feet must have ached! They walked most everywhere. In sandals. I know how my feet feel and I've got pretty supportive shoes. The symbolic washing of feet today is supposed to teach us how to serve and how to lead. He inspires us to kneel before others and say, What do you need? How can I care for you? Let me give you comfort. I know a mom who washes her kids' feet every night before bed. It is so soothing and refreshing. 

These are hard shoes to fill, pardon the pun. How do we begin to care for others? To be for them and with them? I guess it begins by walking with them. And then by washing their feet. The Servant Song describes it well, I will weep when you are weeping, when you laugh, I'll laugh with you.  Beautiful words for what it means to be with others. 

Who are you with? I hope today you can be with others who make you feel lifted and I hope you can lift others too. 

I think about racism in our society and I wonder how I can lift those around me. How can I be a servant leader to the most marginalized in our communities? 

Open House

 We are planning a party later this spring that is going to be an open house. We will invite everyone on our list and hope that they can all attend. We will welcome those we haven't seen in a while and those who we see every week. We will welcome those who get on our nerves and those we are close to. We will welcome everyone. The littles, and the bigs, and the old and the young. The neighbors, the family, the old friends, and the new. I started to get the yard ready this morning because we are supposed to have great weather for a few days. 

In our search for our mission, our vocation to help others, can we be as welcoming? I never felt so welcomed as when I visited my grandmother when she was still with us. She would stop whatever she was doing and just get a big smile on her face, clasp her hands together, and just bestow so much love on me. From the time I was little I cannot remember a single time she was upset or disappointed in me. If I told her something unpleasant, she would click her tongue at the story, but never at me. I have since learned that that is a very Irish thing to do, clicking her tongue. Anyway, I wish I could be that way for people who know me. 

One time I walked into church and my niece Mabel, who was about 3 at the time, turned and saw me. She almost shouted, "YOU'RE HERE!" as she ran down the aisle to be scooped up by me. I couldn't help but smile and laugh and let the joy fill my heart. How can we be that way for others this week and always? How can we have not just an Open House, but an Open Heart to others? How can we say to them, "You're here!" How can we find ways to let others know that everything is okay, that they are loved, that we feel joy when we see them? Perhaps in there is our vocation, our calling to do more for and with others. 

The other day we were talking to Annie on the phone and we asked about Easter plans. Her response without blinking an eye, was, "Oh, yeah, Mom, we are all going to come down!" This meant Annie and her 5 roommates. I was very surprised but delighted that she would want to do this. After we talked logistics, though, it didn't work out. I was so sad. Between her classes and teaching, she wouldn't be able to get down. But I'm still so glad that she thought she could. She knew we would welcome them. Last night, Charlie did the same thing. He told us he "offered the other bed in my room" to a friend on the crew team. We are looking forward to welcoming him on Saturday. 

With my own children and their friends, this is easy. It's not so easy with people who are outside the inner circle of people I love, people on the margins. Who are the people we welcome? Who are the people we find it difficult to welcome? I think by acknowledging how we find difficulty, we can then make amends. 

As you prepare your home for spring, or for an Easter gathering, I hope you can feel your heart expanding as well to welcome those who may be a little more difficult. Have a good holy Tuesday. 

Others

 Dear Friends,

We have made it through Lent, whatever your lenten sacrifices were, planned and unplanned, expected and unexpected. This is Holy Week. We are preparing ever more urgently for Good Friday and Easter Sunday. In the Catholic church, we have Holy Thursday - a beautiful evening of prayer around Jesus' last meal - a Seder meal that we share with our Jewish cousins. It is a time to reflect on Christ's last days and conversations he had with friends, always acting to fulfill his purpose here on earth.

We have a purpose too. This week I invite you to turn your focus outward. We have thought and rethought about who we are, what we need, what we want, and now we turn to others. What gifts do we have that we can share with others? Our world is so hungry, so in need of our love, compassion, understanding, forgiveness, and our mission. How can we feed them? 

St. Ignatius called us to be people 'for and with others'. What does that mean to you? Who are you for? Who are you with? I think about mothers first and foremost. Mothers in Nashville come to mind first. I am very much for them, but how can I be with them? I plan to read more about how to contribute to let them know they aren't alone. Mothers in Camden are also on my mind. How can I be with them? I can give to them, I can pray, but is that enough? 

When I was in college we had a program called Reading to Kids, where we went into shelters and read to the kids in the evenings. I know it was appreciated. The moms got a break and could trust that their kids were cared for, just for an hour or so. It has been on my mind lately. Maybe I'm being called to do something like that again. 

What is calling you this week? Who can you focus on? Maybe it's someone close to you, or maybe it's someone outside your circle. We receive God's love and we share it, showering it on others. 

A Mindfulness Prayer

 Here is a little prayer I've been saying as I go to sleep, or anytime I want to just refocus and ground myself in the moment. There are a few variations you can use to begin the prayer. 

I breathe into my...

Mind and headspace

I breathe into my eyes and face

I breathe into my jaw and neck

I breathe into my clavicle and shoulders

My arms and elbows, forearms and wrists, hands and fingers.

I breathe into my heart and ribs,

I breathe into my organs and stomach,

I breathe into my hips and back,

I breathe into my legs, and knees, shins and ankles, feet and toes. 

With each breath, I try to focus on sending oxygen through my body and as I do I relax my muscles. I find it calming and quieting. You could focus on any parts of your body. I use eyes because my eyes always feel tired at the end of the day. My hips and back are prone to soreness. Sometimes I pray down my body and I'm done or I'll go back 'Up' my body and say it in reverse. It kind of flushes out the aches and pains or tightness or whatever we are holding onto with our bodies. Experts say that our muscles and fascia can hold onto trauma or negative emotional experiences long after the experience itself and until we release it, our bodies and our brains are in a state of heightened alertness, similar to the fight or flight response. Our brain is looking for danger so it knows when to protect us. As we go through our lives, the muscle memory of the trauma can begin to wear away at us, through the chemical response of increased cortisol and inflammation in our body, which can lead to disease. (BTW, I am not a medical doctor, but this is my understanding based on books and classes I have taken on trauma. I'm trying to say it in simple terms.) So, for our own healing, we can pray.

I bless my mind...

Or,

I pray into my mind.

Or,

I bring my mind peace..., I bring my heart peace... and so on

Or, 

God Bless my mind...

I do wonder what it would do to pray for the world in this way. Can we pray for the healing of the world? Start with Nashville. Because just as our bodies hold trauma, our world does too. The collective trauma we have endured is not easy to dismiss. Repeated trauma is not easy to heal from. But maybe a prayer would help. 

I pray for Covenant School and the students and teachers there, 

I pray for their neighbors and Nashville. 

I pray for those who have lost children. 

I pray for my neighbors here and around Philadelphia. 

I pray for my children and the students they go to school with, in Boston and South Bend and SanFrancisco and the Lehigh Valley. 

I pray for our country and its leaders. 

I pray for Ukraine and countries at war. 

I pray for children affected by violence. 

I pray for families tucking their children in at night and worrying about what tomorrow will bring. 

I pray for children everywhere. 

I pray for students everywhere. 

I pray for families everywhere. 

I hope that as we enter the weekend and begin Holy Week next week, this helps you to find some quiet and peace. We are reminded this week that Christ's suffering was for us and that by entering into his suffering, we are freed from sin and depression, from anxiety and worry, from regret and remorse. We can live in forgiveness, resurrection, hope, and love.  I bid you peace. 

Give Grace

 Yesterday I got a call from Annie. I no longer worry so much when a kid calls out of the blue. I don't know why. Anything could happen, right? But a part of me trusts that things are going to be okay. Again, I don't know why. I guess I'm still learning to trust my children, now that they are in their 20s. Trust is so important to our relationships with kids. I think I'm learning to do it better each day, each year. Or maybe it's something we have to learn over and over as they grow. I remember when Jay was in high school and he was a little shifty about something, and I knew he was struggling with making the right choice, and ultimately he did. I learned to trust him and through high school, I was like, "He's got this. He knows what to do." But now I kind of fear each new milestone in a way. "Now that he's off to college, is he going to do the right thing?" "Now that they are on their own, are they going to know what to do?" "Now that he's across the country, is he going to make the right decisions?" It might sound like I just want them to do what I want, but that's not it. I want them to make life choices that are healthy and solid. I just need to trust that they will. And so with each new age, we learn to trust again.

Anyway, when Annie called, we had a long talk about this and that. We talked about people and friends, teachers and students, and parents and children. She had sat in on parent-teacher conferences as part of her student-teaching experience. There were stories of people saying and doing the wrong thing. Making comments and not recognizing what they were saying. Or taking offense when someone says something simple. Sometimes it feels as if we have to walk on eggshells, watching everything that is said and done, she said. Most of the time we are just doing our best. Sometimes, things are personal and feel like judging. Sometimes, we need to set a boundary and say, This is what I'll do and this is what I need from you. Most of the time it's just ignorance or an accidental slip-up. Annie shared that she just wants to Give Grace. When someone says something that's 'tinged', we Give Grace. I just love that idea. I often think of grace as something I receive only from God, but the best moments of grace are when grace is given to us by someone we love, a friend, a family member, or someone we could have harmed, unintentionally. Maybe it's God's grace through them that makes us feel so connected. And when I in turn give grace, it's coming through me from God. It's not my own to give. My grace is restored and replenished by God and I can then give grace.

I said something yesterday that I really regretted. I felt I should apologize for it, but I wasn't sure how to go back once I realized it much later. It was a difference in culture and I forgot for a moment that I wasn't supposed to say it. My whole drive home I worried that this person might have been offended. When I got home, I googled it. After I looked it up, I realized it might not be offensive. Yet there I was in my car, sweating over the fact that I had said this. So what can we do? It may have been offensive, it may not. I did not intend to do anything harmful. Either way, I just hope that person can give me some grace. 

Right now we are all suffering through something. Just look around. We all have our thing that we are going through. I hope we can give some grace. and I hope that in return we are given some grace. Today, no matter what you are facing, I hope you can be given the grace you need from God to give grace to others. And that others will give grace to you. 

Cushions

Our cushions on our couch always reveal what's been going on. When Charlie and Matt were here together over spring break, the indents in the couch in the family room showed how they'd been hanging out or up all night or even sleeping there. The pillows get tossed to the floor and they are free to lounge wherever. The blankets tell the story of how long they were there. Twisted up - usually a long time. Gently tossed but not totally unfolded - usually a short sit. The pillows and cushions on other couches are usually moved only a little. In the living room, the pillows get pushed aside when we have a quick conversation while waiting for someone to get ready or on our way out the door, but they don't really retain any imprint of an extended stay. When cleaning the office, I'll move the pillow to the center where it sits up nicely. Jason will move it to the end to take a little nap and it folds gently against the arm of the couch. In our 'coffee chairs' in the kitchen, the back cushions have to be turned each week to feel fresh because we sit there so much. Whatever they do, the pillows help. They are there to hold us up for whatever kind of moment we are in. Thankfully we don't have bare benches made of wood. Thankfully we have lots of cushions and pillows around to soften our days for when we have a few minutes or a few hours to relax and rest and step away from the blows of the world, and lately, there are a lot of blows.

When I wrote on Monday, I hadn't yet heard the news about the school shooting in Nashville at Covenant School. It is so unbelievable that we are still dealing with this. I don't have words. Last night my husband and I were trying to make sense of it all and we just can't. I think I've signed every petition I can. I called senators and representatives. I don't know what to do. I don't want to know any more innocent people who lose their lives on a day that should just be about going to school, playing a game, eating some dinner. Not planning a funeral. How could there be so much pain in the world? How could someone want to inflict more pain in the world? Obviously, there is more to the story. Some people's lives are full of wooden benches. But aren't we doing better? Aren't we more compassionate and understanding? Aren't we getting the help we need?

I feel like I want some cushions to these blows, not for me, but for all those who are suffering. Whatever they are suffering with. I guess it comes from surrounding ourselves. It comes from other people. It comes from love and prayers. But sometimes the prayer is simply, "Oh dear God..., oh dear God...,  oh dear God..."    Sometimes that is all we can say. Sometimes that is all we need to say. Sometimes that is enough of a cushion against the blows of the world. 

Here is a podcast of Kate Bowler's, called Where We Turn for Meaning, and it's on Consolation. It is a beautiful vision of how we bear pain. 

Today I wish you a cushion against the blows. A moment of rest on the pillows. Someone to listen. And if all else fails, just a prayer:  Oh dear God.

Surround Yourself

 

When you read those words, what came to mind? Was it visions of lush greenery in an open field? Soft lamps and candles lighting the indoors? Blankets piled on a soft couch? A bunch of ingredients that you are putting together for dinner. What do you surround yourself with? Who do you surround yourself with? 

I've been thinking about this. When we were in California, we were surrounded by others who were on vacation, happy to wake up each morning looking forward to a day of adventure and promise. We were surrounded by beautiful rolling rocky hills with various trees growing here and there. All of it brought out another part of us - a part that hadn't been before. We were surrounded by fields of vines upon vines, some old and gnarly and some thin and tallish. And mustard flowers, believe it or not. They say the Jesuits brought the mustard to the Napa and Sonoma Valleys and sprinkled them around. The mustard enriches the grapes grown for wine, so they still grow it. Every row of grapes has a row of mustard flowers growing between them. The mustard surrounds the grape crops and nourishes the soil in which the grapes are grown. This was prime mustard season and the orange and yellow, some fluorescent yellow, flowers were in full bloom. Rather than harvesting the mustard, it is mowed down and goes back into the soil. Each nutrient turns into something different - some acid or chemical that in turn gives the wine flavors of cinnamon, cardamom, apple, pear, and berries, making the wine into something a bit different each year or season. 

Who and what we surround ourselves with matters. The nutrients in the mustard are like the nutrients we gather from our friends. They enrich our lives and bring out various flavors of what's already inside us. It matters. 

I am always struck by classrooms with the shades pulled down to the bottom. No light, no sun, no visuals of the outside can get in. I guess we don't want distraction? Or stimulation? But we need those things. We need to be surrounded with the sky, the sun, the trees, the playground. If there's one thing I realized while away it was how important it is to be in nature. Otherwise what is in us cannot grow to its potential. Our flavors won't ring true. 

I wish for you today to be surrounded. Be surrounded by what gives you nourishment. Whether it's a pile of books, a bunch of kids, a warm fireplace, a friend's laughter. (I guess I'm saying that because it's raining outside my window right now.) Even better, be outside and surrounded by nature. Whatever it is, I hope you surround yourself. 

Cutting Back

 Everyone seems to be talking about cutting back. Cutting back on calories, cutting back on wine, cutting back on spending, cutting back on work, even quiet quitting, which I tried a little. Cutting back is good, but then there's a voice that says, No, Do more! and I become confused. What is all this supposed to mean? I remember telling my kids they had no excuses to do less. They had full bellies and a loving home and everything they needed - no need to do less with all they had. I have the same privilege, so how can I cut back, and still follow my own advice. What's my excuse for doing less? 

While I am trying to cut back on social media, I started following this wonderful gardener on Instagram who visits random (seemingly) gardens and offers just a bit of advice on how to care for things. One thing in gardening that is perplexing to me is how to care for hydrangeas. Some you are supposed to cut back, like way back. And so I've hacked away at these 3 bushes we have and each year they grow bigger and stronger. I don't think there's anything I could do to stop them. When I applied the same principles to the other hydrangeas, they didn't bloom, they suffered. Last year, I moved them to the side of the house where they wouldn't get as much sun. I hoped that would help, but checking on them yesterday, I'm just not so sure. So anyway, my friend, Jess, (I act like I know these people) over at youcandoitgardening.com on instagram, taught me how to Cut Back. You don't cut off the buds. I don't know who coined the phrase "Nip it in the bud" but that's basically the idea. You cut right to the bud, no more, just a nip. So I tried it. We'll see how it goes this summer. I'm also planning on rearranging a few things in the garden to give everybody a little more space, every flower needs room to grow. 

I think it's the same in our lives. What and where and when and how do we cut back? I don't really need to cut calories - I've been doing some intermittent fasting, but Lent reminded me to save that just for Fridays. Ah, that feels better already. Cut back on wine? Sure, but when you want a glass, have a glass. Cut back on social media, yes. But watch the gardening videos for advice. Cut back on television and movies, yes. But go to the library and stock up on books for the rainy weekend ahead. (BTW, remember when we could go to the library or video store and just pick a dvd and bring it home and watch it? Now we spend more of our Friday nights scrolling through Netflix, Amazon Prime, and Apple than we do acutally watching anything. Just had to throw that in there. I definitely want to cut that back.) It's so important that we don't over cut. That we trim just what needs to be trimmed so that growth can continue. We prune. Don't cut off the buds that are growing. 

When we visited Jay, we saw how he is doing Everything! We met the guy at the corner store who he buys his coffee from each day. We met the guys from his 2 (two!) ice hockey teams. We saw the office. We saw the places where he likes to run. We took his friends to dinner and he apologized that we didn't get to meet more of them. While I can see he is doing it all, and I am so happy for him, it made me a little sad. Just cut back, I want to say. But I already taught him that thing about no excuses. So instead I told him that I am glad he has everything in balance. He plays as hard as he works, he finds time to be alone as much as he finds time to be with friends. He finds time to be by the ocean and time to be in the mountains. I hope he hears my new message, that Balance is key. You cut back on what isn't necessary, but you allow room for growth. 

 Here are my hydrangeas, (right in front of the gutter there!) I don't know if you can see them, but there are little red buds on the ends of these stems and you'll notice some fresh white cuts too. I hope I cut back just enough. I also removed the dead wood to make room for the new green growth beneath. I left a few leaves down at the base because I'm worried about the weather this weekend when we are supposed to get a bad rain storm. I figure a little cushion around these new leaves will help protect them. 

What are you hoping to cut back on? How can you prune? Can you just give a little trim? Can you just find the right balance to keep you going and active and happy, but not busy and exhausted? 

Today I wish for you just a little trim, lots of new buds of growth, and a cushion against the rain. 

the mud: Unexpected

the mud: Unexpected:  So after a wonderful visit with my son, I'm a little behind in writing and have some catching up to do. There were so many days when I ...

Unexpected

 So after a wonderful visit with my son, I'm a little behind in writing and have some catching up to do. There were so many days when I should have written and even wanted to write, but was just too tired or caught up in things that I didn't. Anyway, last week I wrote Expecting. Today, it's the Unexpected. 

After flying into San Francisco, we stayed in a little inn in Sonoma for the first few nights. (I may blog more about our trip later because there is so much to share, but I'll save it for another time) We met some people and it was lovely. What we didn't expect is that one of the couples from the hotel would be on our tour in Napa, on a little bus through the hills and vineyards, but there they were. And what we didn't expect was that while we are from very different places, they are from Montana and we are from NJ, we would have so much in common and would very quickly become friends. We hope to visit them one day! Expect the unexpected!

And while the weather was windy and cloudy at the outset of our tour, it turned out to be a wonderful, warm day. Expect the unexpected. While we were headed one place, we decided to drive up the coast a bit 'just to see', and decided to stick to the coast for our drive home. Expect the unexpected. Driving through forests of Redwood trees, we didn't expect to turn the corner and be greeted by The Ocean but we were blown away by the beauty and majesty of the Pacific! Expect the Unexpected.  We didn't expect to be by a creek that bears my brother's name, but there we were. We didn't expect to get upgraded at the second hotel, but we ended up in the Penthouse Suite - unbelievable! Expect the Unexpected. 

It is the most wonderful emotion to be Surprised by Joy, as C.S. Lewis calls it. It is not something planned or controlled, not even thought of or desired until, without warning, it arises, to paraphrase Lewis. What can you allow yourself to be surprised by? I do think it takes a certain frame of mind. We cannot be caught up in our own thoughts and worries, predispositions and expectations. Before we got to the ocean, we actually had reservations that I was frantically trying to cancel so that we wouldn't be charged and for a few moments, it wasn't going through. Finally, the reservation was canceled. No obligations. No expectations. I was relaxed. I was ready to live. I was in the moment. And then I was surprised. Not that there is a formula for it. But I really can't remember a time I was so open and free. It's that feeling at the top of the swing when gravity lets go for a split second and you let go too and feel yourself bounce. Joy! Even on vacation with our kids, there is often a nagging anxiety. Are we doing the right thing? Is this where we're supposed to be? Is this where we want to be? Is this what our kids need? Is everybody happy? It goes on and on. Well, after 24 years of raising kids, I can say I was able to let go, at least for a few days. That hasn't always been the case. Even when I talked about letting go. 

Maybe this is a little of Lent too. So here we are suffering in our Lenten sacrifices but we can still find the joy. It comes in the smallest of ways, in tiny moments. God is waiting to surprise you. He is aligning the stars to bring you joy. Expect the Unexpected. After the crucifixion, no one expected to see Jesus again. And yet...

Today I wish for you Joy, not the planned kind like ordering a birthday cake, but the sheer surprise of unexpected joy. What can you let go of? What reservations, literal or figurative, external and internal, can you cancel? What unexpected thing can you allow yourself to experience? What can you be surprised by? 

Where are you?

Yesterday I traveled cross country with my husband to visit our son. It was a little bit of a bumpy ride with heavy winds much of the way. But it was so amazing to look into his eyes, to see him in his own place, to see where my son now lives. Since he moved here last summer I had visions in my head of what it would be like. Well it is far more lovely than I imagined. As we walked down his street to a cafe the newly wet streets were coated in fresh blossoms of I don’t know what but it smelled divine. I could go on and on but the lesson I believe is that we travel, we land, we imagine what could be. It could be far more than you imagine. 

Where are you? Where are you going? Imagine big! Even if it’s bumpy you’ll get there. 

the mud: Nourishment

the mud: Nourishment:  Thank you for continuing on this Lenten journey with me. I appreciate you being here and I hope you are finding something that speaks to yo...

Nourishment

 Thank you for continuing on this Lenten journey with me. I appreciate you being here and I hope you are finding something that speaks to you.

What do I need? What do I want? What do I feel? All of these questions are important to ask ourselves and our children, our spouses, and our friends. We find deep connection when we ask them. 

But for today I want to pose another question: What do I eat? Part of Lenten rituals regards abstaining from certain foods on Ash Wednesday, Fridays, and the Easter Triduum, the 3 days leading up to Easter. Some people think this is nonsense, that what we eat shouldn't be a sacrifice. I remember a teacher in high school saying that the fishermen in Ireland wanted the Pope to make meatless Fridays because they wanted to increase the fishing industry in Ireland. I have no idea if that's true, but maybe? In our house, we try not to cook fresh meat, we sometimes order pizzas (which is not a sacrifice at all, haha), but lately we've just been eating leftovers, whatever's in the fridge. This week we had a salad made from the cabbages and kale growing in the garden. Grilled in a little olive oil and salt, pepper, and garlic, along with some chunky grilled croutons, it made quite a hearty (hardy?) meal. 

Anyway, this one way of being more intentional in our lives is a good way to gain focus and inward reflection. What do we eat? What do we need? How do we take care of our bodies? How do we sustain ourselves and our loved ones? How can I cleanse my body with some nutritious healthy food? Hot water with lemon, oatmeal with cinnamon, freshly baked bread with honey, pita and hummus, lettuces with olive oil and vinegar, rice with ginger and soy sauce. Sometimes it is the simplest things that bring us true nourishment. 

Today I invite you to look around your kitchen and think about what nourishes you. Maybe it's the food, but it's also the rituals around the food. Do you have a candle you can light while you cook? Can you put on some fun music? Do you have some fresh flowers or branches you can put in a vase to brighten your table space? Enjoy the meal and enjoy the meal preparation. It sustains us and it's a gift from God. We pray, "Bless us O Lord, and these thy gifts, which we are about to receive, from thy bounty, through Christ Our Lord. Amen." 

*This is a little book Annie got years ago - it sits in my bathroom so I can read short snippets...

Connecting

Often we hear about how important it is to grow, stretch our wings, reach out. I've heard from astrology friends that the planets are aligned in a new way right now and that this is an incredible time to bring new things into our lives. But what? you ask. What am I trying to do, what am I trying to grow toward? The only way to answer that is to be grounded, to be deeply rooted in who we are. Then we'll know where to grow, how to grow, and what we need. 

So how do we get there? First, we have to go back to what we wanted as young 20-somethings. What were you dreaming of then? How has your life matched those goals? How has it veered off course? Are there dreams that have been dormant? Just lingering beneath the surface? When we connect back to our truest selves, the ones that existed before kids, before marriage, before time and life took a toll on us, what does that self still yearn for? Going back to our roots, connecting to our inner child, our inner voice will encourage us to find that dream again. It might look different, it might not be the same on paper, but we can bring forth that energy to reclaim a part of ourselves that needs some attention. Lent is a time to do this inner work, to find that thing that brings us a sense of fulfillment. Then, when we are grounded in that truth of who we are, we can ask ourselves, What do I want? And we do more of what it takes to get what we want. 

When I go back to my 20s, I remember working at Ann Taylor in River Edge, NJ, the flagship store back in the 90s. At the end of a long day, we were trying on new suits and outfits. I remember standing in the dressing room - it was so pretty in there - in a very elegant golden yellow-colored skirt suit with a wrap-style jacket and belt and thinking, I'll never get to wear this being a teacher. Now I want to do something different. I want to wear the suit! This may sound superficial, like what does that have to do with finding a purpose in life. But I think it's something that I need to explore. I need to find a way to harness that inner power that the suit represented to get me toward my next goal. And I need to find that vintage suit on ebay or something!

What are you dreaming of? What do you long for? I hope today you have time to sit with your inner 20-year-old, to connect, to listen, and to find what's next. 

Expecting

 Yesterday for lunch I made Campbell's Beef Barley soup. It was way in the back of the cabinet and I thought I'd just clean it out. Making the soup reminded me of the time when I first found out I was pregnant. During that pregnancy, I craved Campbell's Beef Barley soup, so much so that I drove half an hour to a store to get some. We lived in farm country then and of course, we didn't have uber eats, so we had to go out and fend for ourselves. The funny thing is, it was exactly 25 years ago. Making the soup yesterday for lunch took me right back to that time. Sometimes I wonder what it is that jogs these memories - the light, the air, the temperatures outside, the season, the smells? Anyway, I remember that time - being so careful of everything, careful about moving, careful about sleeping, careful about working too much, careful about lifting or carrying anything, careful about what I ate and drank. The doctor wanted me to take it easy., not traveling, not standing on my feet too long, which was difficult while teaching. For a few weeks, we were really worried about the baby. But all the same, it was such a joy-filled time. All my life I had wanted to be a mom and now it was going to happen. Everything we did was tip-toeing around the idea that we were going to have a baby. I don't think I've ever been as excited. 

It's a great feeling to be expecting. To have something wonderful to look forward to. Lent is that way too. It comes in spring for a reason. We suffer through the last dark days of winter and know that soon, very soon, we are going to wake up to sun and light and beauty. This song, The King Shall Come, talks about the beauty that is soon to come. "When morning dawns, and light triumphant breaks, When beauty gilds the eastern hills, and life to joy awakes..." 

What are you expecting? What do you long for that is right around the corner? How can you protect that dream of yours and make it come to life? I wish you a wonderful time of expectation. 

Cleaning

 Sometimes there is nothing so gratifying as cleaning. Today I tried to clean a pair of pants that I love but that have a stain. And a pair of Annie's sneakers that seem to be in vogue right now and that I want to wear for a trip. 

I watched a video on how to clean these stains. I got out a bunch of supplies. I still have about a gallon of hydrogen peroxide from the pandemic, when we thought we'd never have enough cleaning supplies to fight the virus. And a handy dandy toothbrush to gently scrub the hell out of the stain. It may have worked; it may not have. The pants are soaking and then I'll run them through the wash. The sneakers came up nice with a little cleaning sponge but I still have to wash the shoelaces. It felt good to do something menial and focused. You definitely don't need to worry about much when cleaning a pair of sneakers. 

Cleaning is part of Lent too. My. mother used to banish us to our rooms on Good Friday to clean between the hours of 12 and 3. What a day. But as we sat in our rooms looking through old boxes and drawers of junk, it felt good to get rid of the old. Sloughing off the dead and starting fresh. It is a nice habit and one that seems familiar in many faiths. 

We clean our houses and our things. And we can also clean out our thoughts, putting aside those that hold us back and keep us in the past, to make way for creative thinking that will move us forward. What beautiful thoughts do you want to hold onto? How can you make time for those? How can you hold onto those?  

We can 'clean up our act' as my father used to say when we were in trouble. What acts of kindness can we do to make us come clean? To help us start over? How can we remedy a wrong? How can we ask forgiveness for our trespasses? Who can we reach out to to start again?

I hope you have a nice day, spring cleaning.