The Connection

In the busy-ness of raising a family, we may overlook the things we do to create “connections” with our children. I’m talking about those special, seemingly insignificant moments that we share as a family unit. It is these things, which over time, create an unbreakable bond. Playing cards as a family, having a joke that only we know about, making a special meal, gathering for prayer. I’ve noticed that it is these things that keep us together as a family, even though our children are growing up, and with each day, are learning to create lives of their own. Kids crave a sense of belonging, and they cling to the special moments that we fashion with them as they are growing up. That’s what keeps us together.
One of the connections we have as a family is homemade pizza night. Tom has perfected a pizza dough and sauce recipe that could win awards, and whenever Kenzie comes home from school for the weekend, she asks for Dad’s famous pizza. Although the deliciousness alone might lead you to understand her desire for pizza night . . . I know it’s something else altogether. Everyone watches with anticipation as the dough rises and the ingredients for the sauce get chopped up. Then, it’s time for everyone to make their own pizza . . . that’s when the fun begins. Unique dough shapes are created, cheese-stuffed crusts are formed, and toppings are added to personal tastes. Usually, the music is up in the background, and the dogs are at our feet, waiting for the tiniest morsel to be dropped. It’s just our thing. And, I think it’s something that we’ll always have, even when our kids have kids. It’s one of the special things we do together as a family unit. It is ours.
What are the special moments you’re creating with your family today? Know that it’s these things that you’ll keep coming back to, and that will keep them coming back to you. A unique connection that can’t be broken.

I Need a New Word for "Weird"

The word “weird” comes up in my vocabulary a lot. I use it to describe those somewhat mystical, magical, unforeseen, telepathic, miraculous, unexplainable, and just plain weird things that happen in life. Like, the times when you’re thinking about someone and they call you. Or, the times when you’re dealing with a particular problem and the answer comes to you in the scripture reading you turn to. Or, when you look at a digital clock and the time reflects a significant date in your life, like a birthday or anniversary.

I remember a priest telling the congregation not too long ago, about something that happened to him when he was in college and discerning his calling. Whenever he’d look at his watch or at a clock, the time was reflected in repeated numbers, like 11:11 or 4:44. He’d just simply smile to himself and know that it was God reminding him that He was near. My Mom often looks at the clock and sees her and my Dad’s wedding anniversary, 10:23. I’ve done a similar thing, and whenever I’d glance down at my odometer (I drive a lot . . .) the trip mileage was 111 or 222; or the total mileage was 88,888.

OK, now this is going to get a little “weirder”. As I just finished typing the 88,888 numbers above, a friend of mine called. I had ordered some products from her and I asked her how much I owed her. Are you sitting down? My total was $88.88. Weird?

Now, for the weirdest of them all. I’ve kept this weirdness to myself for awhile, but felt compelled to talk about it at a recent speaking engagement I had with a women’s group. I was talking about how, when we’re not connected to what’s going on around us and not living in the present, life just passes us by. When we make the decision to take some time to ourselves and be still and listen to what God is saying to us, all sorts of wonderful things can happen. I told them that over the last year or so, I’ve been experiencing “weird” buzzing or tingling in my lips or in my fingers when I feel like I need to “say” or “write” something. For example, early this morning, I was thinking about writing about “weirdness” but I had to first text a friend to see if, due to the bad weather, we were still meeting this morning. As soon as I hit “send”, I received a text message back that she was hoping we could reschedule due to the weather. There was no way she could have possibly received, read, and responded to my text that quickly. As soon as this happened, my fingers started buzzing/tingling (they still are right now) and I knew that I needed to write all of this down.

Weird? Maybe. Miraculous? Probably. Something I need to pay more attention to? Definitely.

What are those “weird” things in your life that you just take for granted or take as coincidence? What is God trying to tell YOU? Perhaps it’s time to give yourself permission to just be still and listen to what God is saying in your own life. And, while I might just keep calling these moments “weird”, I know that they are so much more than that. OK, my fingers just stopped tingling.

No more Pookie.

It was the day I had been dreading ever since my son became a teenager. Yesterday, my 15 year-old man-boy, in a somewhat out-of-the-blue sort of way, announced to me that it was time I stopped calling him “Pookie” (just one of my many nicknames for him) in front of his friends. And, he continued, while I was at it, I should probably stop calling him those names altogether, even if it’s not in front of his friends . . . because he is almost 16.

My response was a heavy sigh that only we Moms know how to sigh, followed by my response, “Do I really call you Pookie in front of your friends, Sweetie?”  Oh. Oops. Did I just call you Sweetie, Babe? Oops. Did it again! Well, gosh darn it, I’ve been doing it for . . . well, almost 16 years! It’s a hard habit to break!

When our kids are growing up, we know that, inevitably, they’re going to grow up for good. They’re going to move out of our homes, start their own lives, build their own dreams, and take the world on in their own way. That’s what we’ve raised them to do, after all! But, when those poignant times come throughout the growing-up-times when you see them practically grow up in an instant, the reward of “I did it – I raised a wonderful person” doesn’t seem so rewarding. It just seems like it all went much too fast.

I remember having this same feeling about our daughter who recently went away to college. How could this be happening all of a sudden, I remember thinking.  I just gave birth to her! But it does happen, they do grow up, they become independent, and we all adapt. It’s not such a bad thing, I’ve discovered, but it is different. New ways of looking at things, new ways of building your relationship with your child, and new adventures that they embark on with Mom at Dad no longer at arm’s reach.

“So, what should I call you?” I asked. “Son would be fine,” he responded. “OK, Sunshine”, I responded (sounds a little like “son”).  He smiled and hugged me. He’ll always be my Pookie.

An Unexpected Gift

Throughout our 21 years of marriage, Tom and I, along with our extended family members, have built many traditions around Christmas. These traditions are probably similar to those that most families associate with the holidays, and they’re comforting in their ritual, steadfast in their execution. As our children have grown, we’ve delighted in carrying out these traditions, and watching the kids embrace them into their hearts. Every year, whenever someone would ask what our plans were for Christmas, I’d have the speech down cold: we’d go to mass as a family on Christmas Eve, head over to Tom’s parent’s home for Swedish meatballs, the rosary and gifts, and be home in time for Santa to appear in the darkness as the kids watched from the banister above; Christmas morning would bring presents under our tree, and then we’d head over to my parent’s house for presents, games and dinner. As we approached our traditions this year, our schedule was quite off. So off, in fact, that I feared being shaken and perhaps a tad bit traumatized by the inconsistencies that we were going to encounter. Most of all, I feared that I wouldn’t get to experience the “true Christmas” I’ve come to expect. Since Kenzie had to work the weekend shift at the nursing home, she wouldn’t be able to attend Christmas Eve mass or dinner at Tom’s folks’, and wouldn’t be able to spend the afternoon at my parent’s house on Christmas Day. So, we regrouped. And, as un-usual as the weekend shaped up to be, it was a beautiful one. An unexpected gift.

We went to a different mass at a different place. We said the rosary without Kenzie, but she felt its power and missed being there for it. Tom dressed up as Santa and greeted her at the door at 11 p.m. when she walked in after her 8-hour shift. The four of us plopped on the couch and giggled about how many times they saw Santa as young kids while Dad was "sleeping". During the day, we had time to take walks with the dogs and have extra family time. We moved our Christmas Day to the 26th, and reveled in the 3-day celebration that we normally wouldn't have had. 

My Mom always says, “I’m nothing if I’m not flexible”, and I’ve started to take this mantra on myself. As our children grow and become the adults we’re raising them to be, we must learn to embrace the traditions we’ve created, yet remain flexible with our time. And it is in this flexibility that we enjoyed a Christmas I’ll remember for a long time – and not because of any material gift I received, but because of the gift of the joy of the unexpected.     

Quit whining, already!

Yesterday morning we woke up to six inches of snow on the ground and bitter-cold temperatures. On any normal Thursday morning, this would have been okay with me. I have the luxury of working from home, so my normal routine would include getting myself a cup of coffee, spending a little time with my bible, and settling into my comfy office chair in front of my computer for the day . . . occasionally glancing out my window from my toasty-warm quarters. But, yesterday was unlike a typical Thursday. Our family was scheduled to spend the day helping out at the Sister Carmen Community Center in Lafayette, a tradition we began with Tom’s side of the family a few years ago when we wanted a more meaningful way to express ourselves during Christmas. On this very uncomfortably cold day, I dreaded bundling up and heading out. I whined to Tom that there probably wouldn’t be many people showing up at the center because of the difficult driving conditions, and I said that maybe we should have thought about scheduling it for another day after hearing about the impending snow storm. I secretly hoped that we’d get a call saying that the center was going to be closed for the day so that we could reschedule on a more pleasant day. Shame on me, I know! We got the call that the center was open, so we bundled up in layers, not knowing what to expect, and headed out as a family. I was immediately impressed by the operation. It is a very large facility with amazing staff members who kindly showed us around (all 24 of us!) and explained their wonderful programs – not only for food distribution, but education and safe house help. My cold heart began to thaw a bit. We were asked to split up into groups and tackle different projects before the people started coming in. Kenzie, Taylor and I went over to the waiting area and began sweeping and cleaning the area filled with toys and activities for kids to occupy their time while their parents “shopped” at the food bank. In the middle of my sweeping job, one of the staff members asked if I wouldn’t mind working at the front desk answering phones. Sounded warm and fun, so of course I obliged. Throughout the day, as I answered the calls that came in, my greeting, “Good morning, Sister Carmen Center, may I help you?” was answered with sometimes desperate pleas. One woman called saying that she needed help with rent. Another called and told the story of her husband getting laid off, saying that they had no food in the house and was wondering if the center could help. Still another called confirming her appointment with the Safe House counselor. With each call, I felt horribly ashamed for my whiny attitude earlier that day. And the calls continued. Many other volunteers called in asking if we needed more help that day . . . it wasn’t normally their day to come in, but they wanted to see if they could come in . . . despite the road conditions and cold temperatures. The final call melted my heart to the core. A woman called in asking if the center could provide her some food. I was supposed to ask each caller where they resided so that I could determine if we were the right center location-wise, or if they needed to contact a center that served their area. So, I asked the question, “where do you live?” After a brief silence on the other end, the woman replied that she was homeless, and found herself between the Louisville and Lafayette areas most of the time. My heart went up into my throat, and I assured her that she should come in right away and get some food. One of the other volunteers there told me that the center could most likely help her with shelter as well. When we hung up, I flashed back to my cozy office space back at home, the freedom I have to crank up the heat or flick on the fire whenever I was chilly, choose from a closet full of clothes every day, make a cup of cocoa or grab a snack whenever I was hungry, take a bubble bath at a moment’s notice. Oh, how good I have it. I’m grateful for all of those good things, but it wasn’t until I contrasted it with this poor woman’s plight, that I was deeply grateful for it, and quite humbled. Next time I find myself whining about the inconveniences that show up in my life, I’ll remember this woman, and so many more like her, who have nothing. Thank you to all of the wonderful people at the Sister Carmen Community Center, who through your tireless work, compassion, and love, give these people a helping hand. This Christmas, I’ll count my blessings, even amidst the minor inconveniences and trials of my most wonderful life.

Getting Through the Brick Wall

December 14, 2011 – When is the last time I sat down to write? Early November? Where have the weeks gone? Seems I’ve been caught up in a time of transition. These things happen to me periodically. I get to a brick wall that seems insurmountable and I feel like I’m in a battle to find my way to the other side, beyond the wall, to a place where I know who I am, what I want to do, and how I’m going to live my life to serve God. So, the battle began about 6 weeks ago, I suppose. I tried to scale up the brick wall. Hard to do. The surface is flat with no foot-holds to secure my climb. I move over to a different part of the wall to see if I can leverage anything on that side that will help me make my way up. No luck. Maybe if I tunnel under the wall! Oh, but that wall’s foundation is deep. I use my little shovel and furiously dig, dig, dig to find an opening to tunnel my way to the other side to no avail. Perhaps I should go around the wall! I go to the left, but end up walking for miles in that direction and find no end to it. The road to the right finds me in the same precarious position. No way around this one.  If I can’t go over it, under it, or around it, I suddenly realize that in order to break through the barrier of my brick wall, I must go through it. I chip away at the wall, bit by bit, rediscovering the person I am, the person I’ve become, the plan God has for me. I realize that all this climbing, digging and walking around the brick wall was to no avail because in order to come through on the other side, one must find their own truth and persevere through the unknown.  As I chisel through the wall, I wonder, how thick is it? When will the light begin to peek through so I’m back on track and can see my path again? All I know for sure is that it’s the hard work, perseverance, and faith in the light on the other side that makes it all worth it. Wait! Is that a light I see?

Why We Struggle

I sometimes think that life would be much simpler if I could just pick up my family, move to some tropical island, and spend the days floating on the water, sipping pineapple juice, and building sand castles. We’d be sheltered from all problems, all suffering, all fear. Sounds perfectly perfect, right? But, in the long run, would it really be all that good? Would we really be the people we are today if it were easy all the time? We’d all love it if our lives were easy, problem-free, and painless. Why is it that we have to endure pain, heartache, uncertainty, fear, loss, and despair?
I found a glimmer of the answer in a reflection I was reading on Genesis 37 by author, Hanna Whitall Smith. She writes, “It is no matter who starts our trial, whether human, or devil, or even our own foolish self. If God permits it to reach us, He has by this permission made the trial His own, and will turn it for us into a chariot of love which will carry our souls to a place of blessing that we could not have reached in any other way.”  
Think about the trials you’ve endured and come through on the other end, whether it was the loss of a loved one, a serious illness, the shame in something from your past, or a stumble that turned into a big-time face plant. No matter what, you are likely different, and better, for having come through it. Had you never experienced the depths of the trial, you wouldn’t be the person you are today. And the biggest comfort in this truth is that He is with us every step of the way. As the author reveals, God takes our trials on as His own. He only lets those in that will “carry our souls to a place of blessing that we could not have reached in any other way.”
Indeed, in our struggles, we find God walking right alongside us, anticipating the great blessings that will come into our lives from having done so. And it is in this parternship, that we find true comfort and joy. Let Him hold your hand today as you move through your journey, and be comforted in the truth that you are being led to a place of abundant blessings, a place that you wouldn’t have known had you not endured the struggle.