Walking The Path To My Calvary

I reach up, holding this plank with shaky hands, sweat pouring down my forehead.  With weak knees, I stumble over this barren earth losing my balance when stepping on the smallest of pebbles.  Down I crash, hitting the ground.  Hard.  This hefty timber comes tumbling down upon me and there I lay, barely breathing under it's great weight.  Silence.  Complete darkness.  I am all alone.  This is the time I question my own strength.  Can I go on?  Is it even worth it?  Why do I try?  And then, just as sunshine rises over the horizon and night is met with all the promise of a new day, the weight is lifted and the darkness fades.  In it's stead, staring back at me, I see the kindest, most compassionate eyes, filled with tears, filled with my pain.  He reaches out his hand to me and helps me up.  I reposition my substantial load, equally distributing it's weight across my back.  I check my balance before I begin to walk.  Walk again.  It's then that I look up for the first time to see whom I should thank for rescuing me.  Who was this hero?  And there He stands, bent forward, sweat and blood running down His face.  But He stands.  He does not waiver.  He does not stumble.  He stands.  He stands for me.  He embraces His tremendous cross, such a weight I cannot even fathom carrying.  I look at the small bundle of wood I am supposed to lug on my back and realize how small my cross has become.  That large plank, the great weight I was suffocating under, is no longer there.  It has been replaced by a much smaller version.  My little cross.  I look to my Lord and see His eyes pleading for me to pick it up and take my little cross.  So I do.  I fling it on my back and together we journey along this path.  I still feel it's weight on my body, trying to push me down.  I still feel the grief, despair and sadness that sits heavily upon me.  Yet, I know, this road that I travel is not one I travel alone.  I can carry on, I can continue, because He has taken on my burdens and relieved me of the impossible.  So with joy and tremendous effort, I take my next step.

I had such grand ideas of the Lenten journey I'd take this year.  How my heart would be transformed!  How close I would become to my Jesus!  Yet, the Father had other plans for me.  This entire season has been spent at doctors offices, urgent care centers, and emergency rooms.  Fighting colds and banishing fevers has been the plight of my poor children for most of the month of February.  But the boys finally kicked their cold and things began to look up.  Spring was coming and winter would be gone soon enough.  We could get through this, right?

Up until a week ago, I felt we were coming out of the haze sickness leaves over a household, when it was my turn for the ER visit.  Last week, my husband and I suffered our third miscarriage.  The third baby I will never get to hold against my skin, nurse, bathe, or smell that newborn baby smell.  The third child I'll never watch grow up.  The third adult I'll never send to college or see get married.  Therefore, my cross became too great, much too great for me or my husband to carry alone.  We were stumbling and falling beneath it's weight.  And if I'm being completely honest, there were moments when I didn't want to get back up again.  I didn't want to take on this cross, to carry this grief, this pain, this loss.  I didn't want to go through this AGAIN.  Yet, God the Father knew how difficult this would be for us and in His great goodness and generosity, He sent us beautiful mercies along the way.  The best part was that He made me aware of these mercies when they were happening and the consolation of knowing He was with us, helped us both to keep going and to get out of bed in each morning.

Don't get me wrong, there were plenty of times I felt alone, abandoned even.  If anyone has ever experienced a miscarriage at the ER, you know how matter-of-fact these things are taken and how little if any care or sympathy is expressed.  During my examinations, while alone with numerous emotionless medical personnel, I was wondering, just as my Jesus had on Calvary, "My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?".  Intellectually I knew God was there.  My Blessed Mother was there, holding me, stroking my hair.  I knew it, but I couldn't feel it.  The emptiness!  The great nothingness!  It's a darkness I do not wish upon my worst enemies.  This is the cross I had fallen beneath.  It's a cross I must carry every day and one I am trying desperately to carry well.

You know, it's funny, because life actually goes on.  The earth has the nerve to rotate around the sun and time has the gall to march on.  In spite of my heartache, the world continues to move.  How cruel and yet how satisfying to know some things never change.  To know this great tragedy of ours will not become the "be all and end all" and life will go on, is both terrifying and reassuring at the same time.  Am I still stumbling over the little pebbles of life?  You better believe it.  Do I fall sometimes thinking I can't or don't want to get up?  It's part of the process, a process I know all too well.  But do I know my Lord, Jesus, has taken the most burdensome parts of my cross upon His back?  Do I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this Lent, I walk this path to my Calvary in the greatest company?  Oh, praise God for this knowledge!  Praise God for this truth!  I do not walk this path alone.  It gives me joy, no matter how difficult it may be, to suffer alongside my Jesus and if I must suffer, let me, Lord, suffer well with You, for the greatest good of all souls!

  

A Note About Joy!

It's the third week of Advent and we just celebrated Gaudete Sunday.  It's the week of joy, my friends!  Christ is coming soon!  Yet, when we look at the world around us, how can we speak of joy?

I'm so very happy that this week is the "week of joy"!  We are getting over stomach bugs and colds in this house and what a joy it is to feel so much better! But joy is so much more than just feeling better or being happy.  To me joy is a choice, one that we make numerous times a day.  Do we choose to be joyful?  When our children wake us up an hour early, do we choose joy? I'll admit it, this is a hard one for me. When it's rainy and cold and we have to run errands, do we choose joy?  When it's time to work on reading, writing, or worse...science projects with our little ones, do we choose joy?  When it's time to make dinner, and our toddler is hanging on our leg screaming (because apparently the only moment that we MUST pay attention to him seems to be the exact moment we must also cook), do we choose joy?

Part of being a joyful person is to accept where we are in life and that all situations, trials, celebrations, and the mundane moments of daily life can bring each and every one of us to sanctity.  But we must CHOOSE joy!

Another aspect of being a joyful person is to SHARE our joy.  Like oxygen to a fire, are people to joy.  Joy must be shared among others for it to grow and burn strong.  So now we need to ask ourselves, do we share our joy?  When we get cut off by an oblivious driver, do we share our joy?  When we are 10 minutes late to an appointment, do we share our joy?  When the post office lost our mail, when the water company puts us on hold for 35 minutes, when our dishwasher breaks, do we share joy?  When running in and out of the doctor's office, grocery story, library, do we make that choice to share our joy or do we bottle it up inside smothering it's flame?

I know what you are asking yourself.  Why should we be joyful, Maria?  The world is falling apart?  And who can be joyful with all the annoyances of daily life?  But I say, why SHOULDN'T we be joyful?  The world is a passing phase.  Life on this earth, has but one function, to help us achieve Heaven, to be with our Lord, God, the Holy Trinity, forever and ever.  And we can use these moments of annoyance, these little sufferings.  Even those moments, we can offer up to our Lord.  So, really, who doesn't want to celebrate?  I mean, we are Catholic, people.  We are a religion of festivities and fun.  We have two full seasons of celebration, the Christmas and Easter seasons.  We have so many feast days and saint remembrances, that we are partying almost every day throughout the year!

We are a religion of party goers because we know the GOOD news.  Christ is coming!  So let's choose joy.  As my one year old just woke up from a 20 minute nap and is currently screaming for me to come get him, I'm going to have to sign off here, but in the meantime, I'm going to choose joy.

May your days be filled with moments of pure joy!

Blessings to you and yours,

Boasting in the Lord!

Boasting in the Lord. St. Paul tells us to do it (1 Cor in thins 1:31). In fact, it's a good thing. Yet he reminds us not to boast in leaders of the world (1 Corinthians 3:21). Ok Paul, I gotcha. Boast in the Lord, my God, my Savior not in flawed sinful men. Yes! I want to. Some days I want to shout with JOY screaming at the top of my lungs sharing all the good things the Lord has done for me. But when does this boasting become just bragging? When does it become "look at me, I'm favored because God has done so much for me"?

This is something with which I struggle a great deal. Some days I am so excited about receiving the Eucharist that morning in Mass, I just want to dance. In fact, (ok I know this is weird but), I do dance "in my head". Walking back from the Communion reception line, here I am in my brain dancing down the aisle singing the only word that ever comes to mind (or maybe the only word that really comes from my heart, who knows), "Yes! Yes! YES! YES! YES!!!". So yes, I WANT to boast in my Lord. I want everyone I meet to get that feeling of pure happiness, that almost uncontainable joy, when receiving our Lord, when participating in the perpetual sacrifice, when taking part in the ONLY moments where Heaven ACTUALLY meets earth.

Have you ever really thought about that? The Mass is the ONLY time in our lives we will be able to experience a bit of Heaven here, in our mortal lifetimes! We know for certain, our gardian angels are there as they come everywhere with us. But have you thought about the fact that there are other angles present as well according to Paul (1 Corinthians 11:10). And what about the saints? We even mention the saints in our Eucharistic prayer. Could it also be possible they are present too? Honoring our Lord at His great table of plenty? Of course it is! And if so, then why AREN'T we flocking to the churches on Sunday, Holy days and every other chance we get? Why AREN'T we boasting in the Lord our God?

Here's what I think. At least for me, it's all about vanity. Curse my stupid pride! I don't want that person to think I believe I'm holier than them. If I say, "Listen to how great God is to me...." I don't want that person I'm speaking with to think of me as a braggart, like the pious Sadducees and the fake Pharisees who thought of themselves above others. No, I would never want someone to think that about me. And so I keep my mouth shut. I choose not to share my great joy in Christ because, heaven forbid (pun intended), someone might think ill of me.

Well no more. The time is NOW. Pride, be gone with you! I happily, loudly, and joyfully boast in Jesus Christ, my Lord, my Savior, and my great, great love.  Today, I shout it from the laptop (not a mountaintop but it will do)!  I stand steadfast in my love and joy of my merciful Lord.  I will not deny Him and my happiness will NOT be contained!

So next time you see me, I just might be dancing down the aisles at Mass unable to contain this great happiness.  And don't stop me outside of church or you just might hear "Hey, guess how good God is to me?".  Because from this day forward you cannot STOP me from boasting in the greatness that we call our Lord and our God.

My prayer for you, my friends, is that you too will find the strength, peace and joy of boasting in Jesus too (whether it be through words or deeds).

Blessings to you and yours,

A Lesson On Prayer

Have you ever been in the situation where life has just become so busy that it seems as if you are putting out fires every second of the day, as if you are running on autopilot, a buoy in the water bobbing up and down just trying to stay afloat with no real direction?  This is exactly how I would have described my last year.

In the fall of 2014, we were blessed with the arrival of our second son, Little Bean, followed by my husband's retirement from the military.  So it was time...the time of transitions!

As a family, we needed to find a direction with which to go.  Do we stay in AZ, far from family, and does my husband try to find a permanent job?  Or do we move back to the east coast without any job prospects to be closer to family and trust in the Lord?  It was a decision my husband and I discussed and prayed about for some time.  In the end, we decided, as my husband likes to say, to "take a leap of faith".  So we packed up all our belongs, our 4 year old, our 2 month old, our dog and ourselves and headed east.  This move also meant I had to close down the doors to my dream, my private practice.  We had no home, no jobs, and no idea where we would end up.  But if we trust in Him, God never disappoints.  Though, they may not be the things we ask for, like any good parent, God will ALWAYS give us the things we need, things that will bring us closer to Him.

We were so very blessed during those months of transition.  First we were able to stay with my family and then with my husband's family.  So shelter during a terrible winter was thankfully covered.  Check.  We celebrated Christmas and New Years with family we hadn't been able to see in many years due to military life.  Family for the holidays!  Check.  And after the New Year, after many sleepless nights with my newborn, and many, many, MANY prayers, the Lord shared His plan with us.  My husband was offered a job in Northern Virginia.  Check.  We found a nice house in a family friendly neighborhood and were officially moved in by March of 2015.  Check.  Yet, it's only been over the last month or so that I realized how many times God answered "Yes" to my prayers this past year.  You know, not just the big, life-sustaining prayers (food, shelter, water, etc.) but the "little" prayers.  The ones we think are nonessential.

I prayed for us to know where to move and to get settled.  Well the Lord made His plan for us very clear with this job opportunity for my husband.  There was no need for an agonizing decision.  THIS is where we are SUPPOSED to be!

I prayed that where ever we ended up, I hoped to find a group of strong Catholic women from which to learn and grow.  Boy did He ever deliver on this one!  I am so happy to be part of a wonderfully large homeschooling community with families both large and small (and by large community, I mean 90+ people on the email change!), whose mothers dedicate their lives to teaching their children this beautiful faith!  I've been reintroduced to the beautiful tradition of head covering and what an AMAZING blessing this has been for me during the Mass.  And I have rediscovered my love for the Eucharistic celebration and am blessed to share that love with my children on a daily basis.  So many "Yes" answers to prayers for which I didn't even know I should pray.

Finally, I prayed for something very small, very insignificant.  I have read about the wonderful groups of women who participant in saint peg doll swaps and I wanted to be part of one.  Not just to be part of a swap as I could make the dolls on my own.  No. I prayed to be part of a group of women, mothers, who understood the importance of teaching our children about the awesome saints of Mother Church.  I wanted a group of women, who were on fire for Christ. Women who understand, believe and live as if this world, this life is fleeting and simply a stop along our eternal journey.  I wanted women who get it, who get me!  And, I'm happy to report that I have found that group.  Through my church I have become part of a beautiful mom's group called the St. Anne Society, where we meet bimonthly to discuss all things in which a Catholic wife and mother would find interest.  As if that was't amazing enough, randomly a few weeks ago, I was asked to participate in a saints peg doll swap with some women from my church (click on the link to see how the swap went)!  Can you believe it?  All these "Yes's" from God?!

My Life Lesson:
So what have I learned through this year of transition?  Through taking our "leap of faith" and leaving it all up to God?  Well I guess I've learned a few things.  One, the old adage, "The Lord will provide", is so very true. Two, when the Lord provides, He does so with gifts even greater than our imaginations can dream.  And thirdly, maybe the most important lesson of all, I discovered that our Lord  will answer "YES" to all prayers He knows will bring us closer to Him!  This has COMPLETELY changed my prayer life.  Now before I ever pray for anything, I ask myself "Will this bring me closer to God?", "Will this build my relationship with Jesus Christ? The Holy Spirit? His mother? The saints?".  If the answer is "yes" then I not only make that prayer request, I make it boldly and confidently as I know our good Father in Heaven will say "yes".

Yet, what if the prayer request may not bring myself or another closer to Christ?  We find this conundrum in cases of illnesses and disease, among other things.  Will the removal of my suffering or the suffering of another, bring either of us closer to Christ?  Rather, can this suffering be more effectively used as an offering for reparation of sins or as a purgation of one's soul?  And, if so, do I have the right to pray for it to cease?  It is in these times, these cases I can pray for only one thing that the Lord's will be done and that all involved can accept that will and use it to grow closer to Him.  Now this prayer, I KNOW will be answered with a resounding "yes, Yes, YES!" from Heaven!

So I guess, the lessons I've learned over the last year have taught me to be more thoughtful in my prayer requests and to always keep a soul's salvation in mind above all things.  Yes, I'm cautious when it comes to prayer, but I am confident and I know-I don't just trust-I believe, I have faith, I KNOW that our prayers will be answered "Yes" when we pray to become closer to our Lord.

May all of our prayers be focused on creating relationship with Christ especially during this upcoming Advent season!

Blessings to you and yours,

Dealing with the Distractions

Do you ever just feel like what is the point?  What is the point of all of this "stuff" in the world?  What is the point of joining this "rat race"?  Why deal with all this stuff...television, movies, radio or podcasts, facebook pages and blog posts?  Do you ever just look around in life and notice it's filled with "Distraction. Distraction. Distraction." one right after the other?  Sometimes all I hear in my life is noise, noise, noise.  With all this noise and distraction in life, how in the world am I supposed to know where the Lord is calling me?  How am I supposed to "hear His voice"?

What does it the bible says?  Oh that's right..."Be STILL and know that I am God."
Be still...while a 5 year old is shoving his wonderfully creative uniquely self-made lego creation in my face.  Be still...as my 13 month old has crawled to my feet and is now crying while grabbing my pant leg wanting to be held.  Be still...while my 13 lb. bichon barks (all day long) at the NINE neighborhood dogs that surround our house.  Be still...while my husband calls to check in with us and see how our day is going.  Some days "being still" is quite the challenge, don't you think?

The best part about life is that I can always look to our Blessed Mother and know that as a human mama herself, she experienced days full of distractions and noise.  She knows what it's like to not have a minute to herself all day until the kids go down for bed at night.  Our Holy Mother knows what it's like to look in the mirror (or in her day, her reflection in a pool of water, I'm guessing...Ha!) and realize she doesn't recognize the person staring back at her.  She knows what it's like to reluctantly open her burning eyes far too early in the morning after a night of terrible sleep in response to hearing "Mom. Mom. Mom, you up?".  She knows that there are days I just want to sit in prayer.  She feels my desire to have time to pray and meditate on the bible.  She understands how I long to pray a rosary without children to distract me.  Our Mother knows all of this, however, she also realizes that in my state in life, sometimes this is not possible to do.

Here's the challenge for me.  It is a form of suffering to have to be brought back to focus on these "earthly" things and to not have the time I would like to spend with Our Lord and Our Lady in silence and without distraction.  I could spend time thinking about all the things I wish I could do, or all the things I don't "get" to do because of my "state in life".  I could spend time focusing on all the things I would like to be able to do yet cannot, but what would be the use in that?  That only results in a pity party for me and no one wants to come to a party of one, do they?  I'd much rather spend my time, wisely.  Through Our Lady's wisdom, I know I can offer up this "suffering", the distractions, the noise, the headaches, the frustrations, the lack of focus during the Eucharistic prayer due to having children (the classic cry of the church-going Catholic parent)...all of it.  I can offer it all up to and place it at Our Mother's feet.  Then she can take these gifts of love and sacrifice, package them beautifully and present them to her Son for me.  What better way to send a gift to my Lord than through His beloved mother?  So this is what I now do.

Nothing is wasted.  Distractions are blessings.  Noise is welcomed.  Headaches...well headaches are still responded to with a bit of ibprophen and dim lights, but even these are offered up.  All have become part of my daily prayers.  And how grateful I have become for my children, who are the makers of all distraction and noise in this universe, or at least in my universe.  Without them, my prayers would be dull, sterile, and bland.  But because of them, because of my lovable little boys, my prayers, although not deep or earth shattering, are full of the joy, perseverance, patience, and compassion.  Because of my boys, I am learning how to make my life into a prayer!

Praying for wonderful distractions in your lives as well!

Blessings to you and yours,

A Mother's Lesson in Mercy!

Today, our Lord taught me a very important lesson about mercy.  I've been devoted to the Divine Mercy Chaplet and Novena for many years now and I "know" (meaning I recognize with my thinking but not always truly feel or understand) that Jesus is there simply waiting to dole out His mercy upon us if we just ask.  Oh, but how easy it is to forget the second step in the "mercy process".  In the Our Father we are reminded "Forgive us our trespasses AS WE FORGIVE THOSE who tresspass against us."  At the end of the Divine Mercy Chaplet there is a beautiful prayer that states:  "Eternal God, in whom mercy is endless and the treasury of compassion inexhaustible, look kindly upon us and increase your mercy toward us so that in difficult moments we will not despair nor become despondent but with great confidence submit ourselves to your holy will, which is love and mercy itself."  Yes we are most definitely expected to participate fully in step two, sharing that mercy with others.

You may be asking yourself, "Ok so what does all that have to do with the lesson you learned today, Maria?".  Well, sometimes I forget that the people who need my love and mercy the most are the ones who are the closest to me, my family.

This week has been a rough "listening week", to say the least, for my oldest, Pickle.  Let's just say, this week he has been really showing his independent thinking by trying to respond to my directions with his own actions.  The problem with this is that many times five year old thinking does not take into account consequences and safety the way a parent's mind does.  Yet it is through this very struggle that we both learned a priceless lesson.

Today, Pickle was playing with his younger brother, little Bean, when he decided it was a good idea to run around the kitchen pushing Bean's walker and slamming it in the walls.  I told Pickle several times to stop doing this as he was going to hurt himself or Bean.  Sometimes, I guess lessons are learned best through experience.  Within seconds of my third explanation (like a good mother, providing rationale and reason for the what's and why's of my directives), I hear a great BANG and Pickle immediately begins to scream and cry "I broke the walker!".  I turned around and all I see is blood everywhere!  Pickle was in shock that he broke his brother's toy that he hadn't even noticed he was hurt.

Sidenote: Anyone who knows me, knows I am NOT good in emergency situations.  I tend to freeze completely or scream when I see the sight of blood.  But something happened inside of me in that moment.  I was absolutely calm.  It was as if I was moving in slow motion and my thoughts became crystal clear: 1) find the source of the bleeding, 2) stop the bleeding, 3) determine the severity of the injury, 4) remain calm so Pickle can calm down as well.  I KNOW?!  This is definitely not me.  It was as if I was a different person, someone possessed, going through these motions only through the grace of God, I can assure you!

Quickly, I took Pickle's hand, sat him on the kitchen counter next to the sink, grabbed a handful of wet paper towels and dabbed the blood away.  It continued to gush down his throat, in his mouth, all over his teeth, I just couldn't figure out where it was coming from.  Finally, I was able to stop the bleeding long enough to see there were three sources from which it was comine, his top lip was split, his chin was scratched several times, and underneath his chin there was a deeper cut where most of the blood was gushing forth.  Within a few minutes the bleeding was stopped and I was able to really assess Pickle.  He was scared but he was just fine (Thank you Pickle's Guardian Angel!).  Nothing a little cold compress and a few band-aids couldn't fix.  Little Bean was just fine too (Thank you Bean's Guardian Angel!).

Yet, Pickle could not calm down.  He was so devastated the he broke his brother's toy he couldn't stop crying or breathe.  This was the moment, I felt the Lord teaching me a lesson.  As much as I wanted to yell and scream that I am so tired of telling you to follow my directions the first time they are given and this is what you get when you don't listen to mom and so on and so forth,  it was like the Holy Spirit spoke to me.  In that moment, only one word came to my mind "mercy, mercy, mercy".  This is what the Lord was asking of me.  Have mercy on Pickle in this moment.  He has learned his lesson the hard way.  Now is not the time for a lecture but the time for mercy.  The time to show my son that no toy is more valuable than the love I have for him and no action he could ever do, would diminish that love.

With those words on my heart, I spent the next half hour loving him and explaining to him gently that no matter what choices he makes (good or bad) I will always love him, and just like Jesus forgives us for our mistakes, so I forgive him for his.  Of course, once he realized he had to eventually tell Dad what happened after he gets home from work today, a new torrent of tears came streaming down his cheeks.  Oh how I wished at that moment I could take away his anguish!  I wanted desperately to offer to call my husband for him and to explain everything but again the Holy Spirit spoke "mercy" and I understood.  As hard as it would be for me to see him worry about having to admit his mistake to his father, I also knew that it was something for which he MUST take responsibility.  If I stepped in now, I would be doing him a greater disservice, and taking some of the real life-lesson out of this moment.  I realized that sometimes, having mercy is consciously choosing to do the most difficult thing of all, watch your child struggle.  This too is a great mercy as I am teaching my child that with every choice he makes there is a consequence, sometimes good, sometimes bad.  With every consequence, he must take responsibility for those actions.  What a hard lesson for a five year old to learn!  But if not now, then when?  And in what higher-stakes situation?

Sometimes having mercy on our loved ones means we will have to watch them suffer for the sake of learning a bigger lesson.  Sometimes, having mercy means we too will suffer with them.  I think I may finally understand, on a very very small scale, how Jesus feels watching us make mistakes.  How He LONGS for us to make the right choice but how He knows the consequences of our actions will help us to learn the tough lessons of life and that maybe, just maybe He too suffers along with us all because He wishes to grant us the most wonderful gift of all...mercy!  

Blessing to you and your and may mercy be flowing from you today and everyday!

Taking it to the Cross!

Life lessons seem to be coming from all sides some days.  Today I am ready to hit the sack at 7:30pm because I've simply had just that kind of day.  Little Bean is now 8 months old but still nursing throughout the night.  Pickle just turned 5 years old last month and we are coming up on the end of our first marking period next week.  I can't believe it's been almost 9 weeks since we have started school!  Hopefully I'll share some pictures with you from our homeschool adventures next week.  But for today, I'm just spending some time in reflection.

My life has drastically changed over the last 6 months and not simply because we've had another bundle of joy (which he has truly been such joy to us).  Rather, it's because my husband went on terminal leave several months before officially retiring from the army after two decades.  We bounced around for a few months spending time with family before settling down in our new state within 40 miles of my husbands new job.  Forty miles in terrible traffic equals hours on the road some days.  But, he's been taking time getting into the swing of things over the last three months with this job and we as a family have begun to get used to dad being back to work after all the time we were blessed with having him at home with us during our transition period.

The first few weeks of unpacking, infant separation anxiety, sleep deprivation and emotional outbursts from a preschooler who was desperately trying to find his bearings in his topsy-turvy world, truly tested this mama's resolve.  The chaos and clutter was closing in on me and my children were feeling my anxiety.  I ached for organization but between needing to hold my infant constantly while trying to reassure my preschooler that all would turn out just fine and we would in fact find new friends for him to play with, unpacking became a much greater obstacle than I could have ever thought.

We were on an emotional roller coaster.  Our days, much like Clint Eastwood's famous movie, were sometimes good, often times bad, and a few times, admittedly so, very ugly.  My husband was so busy at work that many times he would get home simply to eat dinner and see the kids off to bed.  To say we, my boys and I, were struggling is probably an understatement.  However, I'm the type of person that can only see the extent of the darkness with the sun's return.  When I'm in the thick of things, I simply put out immediate fires and deal with what's at hand (which incidentally is not the same thing as being good under fire...I'm terrible at that).  It's as though I can only process what is right in front of me and therefore can only deal with solution to those immediate problems.  There is no time for thinking, for reflecting or for silly things like emotion.  But I knew we were struggling and I knew for sure that I couldn't do it all on my own.  I had to do something I have done over and over time and again in my lifetime.  I had to return to the cross.

Simply praying during the day wasn't enough.  I had to stop in moments of anxiety, frustration or anger, silent those thoughts in my head that wanted to so desperately come tumbling out of my mouth, and get on my knees.  Some days I had to just kneel in the midst of a floor strewn with toys, a screaming baby, and a preschooler dancing around the both of us seemingly oblivious to the hearing-loss-inducing noise level that Little Bean could belt out.  Sometimes I had to go into the bathroom and shut the door.  It didn't matter where I was, it just mattered that I took it to the cross.

At first I asked our Lord and Blessed Lady to end this emotional ride, give me a break from this chaos and help Little Bean get some sleep and help Pickle find a few friends with which to play.  But I realized that I was wrong to pray like this because those prayers were requests to take away my suffering, my anguish in the moment and my suffering in watching my children in pain.  I came to understand, finally (like the good Catholic that I am...wink, wink), to offer up my suffering rather than requesting it to cease.  So my daily prayer became an offering of my suffering in union with our Lord on the cross.  It was a prayer asking Jesus to help me suffer well.

What a difference this change in prayer made for me!  I no longer focused on trying to make my children blissfully happy in a time I knew I couldn't do just that.  I simply chose to love them where they were.  I no longer dreaded the screaming and crying from Little Bean and began to accept and even anticipate his need to nap while I wore him practically all day long.  He really needed that bodily security that I was there with him at all times and I stopped trying to emotionally fight that.  I no longer felt annoyed by the constant noise and attention Pickle was seeking from me as he too required reassurance that he wasn't going to be left alone, that I would never leave him and that he too would one day find friends.  No.  My prayers became offerings.  Sacrifices for reparation of my sins and for conversion of souls (what a perfect time to do this since we were right in the middle of Lent...a "Godincidence" for sure).  I still had no time for myself, the boxes remained packed and the clutter continued to pile up.  The noise level didn't subside but my anxiety surely did.  Oh once I began to use these little infinite daily struggles, these moments of "dying to myself" as offerings, tiny gifts to our Lord, they no longer felt like a burden.  No longer did I feel like I was really suffering.  I began to feel joy in these burdens knowing I was offering, small as it might be, this little act of love for others which I felt was a consolation to Mary's Immaculate and Jesus' Sacred heart.  And the darkness, over the span of the next two months, began, ever so slowly, to fade.     

Now that the sun is beginning to rise again, now that Little Bean is feeling more secure and taking naps without needing to be held or worn, now that Pickle is settling into his homeschool schedule, and now that most (notice I did not say all) the boxes have been unpacked, I am breathing a little easier, and I am able to look back and say, beyond a shadow of a doubt I could not have gotten through the last few months without the assistance of our Lord and Blessed Mother.  Although, I know that this darkness is far from being over as Pickle and I have yet to find a good set of friends for him or a social support system for myself, through this time of adversity, I am reminded that as long as I take all of my sufferings, joys, prayers and works to the cross, the Lord will carry me through the darkness and once again the sun will surely rise.

To all of you going through your dark nights, I pray that you will rely on our Lord and Blessed Mother.  Take it to the cross, where it all belongs!

Blessings to you and yours,

Mother's Day 2015: A Tribute to My Own Mother!

How wonderful is it that during the month of May we celebrate our earthly mothers alongside our heavenly mother?!  Now that I am a mother myself, I have a different understanding of what it means to be a mother, the daily, infinite number of sacrifices a mother makes, and the number of times a day a mother holds her tongue.  Yes Mother, I know this will come as a shock to you, but I do actually hold my tongue...sometimes.  Ha!

As a mother, I now understand what it means when moms say "I can't afford to be sick" or "There is no such thing as a day off."  I know how necessary it is to be organized, to have a calendar of events, to know work schedules and plan around big events.  I know what it means to bake a birthday cake after the kids go to bed and frost it at 10 pm.  I know what it's like hiding Christmas presents and secretly spending all night wrapping them while they snooze soundly in the next room.  I know what it means to check on the kids before I head to bed and to run into their rooms at night when they cry out or scream.  I know what it means to rock babies to sleep in my arms, only to have them wake up screaming when I try to put them down.  I know what it means to stay up all night cuddling a sick baby on the couch just to have to stay awake the next day to take care of another child.  I know what it means, to sob on the other side of the door while the baby is trying to cry himself to sleep.  I know what it means to make sure everyone is fed and bathed, all the clothes are washed, folded, put away, the dishes cleaned up after dinner, the ironing done (and you KNOW how I dislike ironing!), and the grocery shopping complete.  I know what it means to plan our weekly and monthly meals in the most economical way possible. I know what it means to try and sneak leftovers and veggies into meals then try to trick the kids (or in my case my husband) into eating them.  I know what it's like to be so tired after a day with the kids, that my eyes are closed the moment my head hits the pillow.  I know what it means when moms say "Your body is no longer yours".  I know what it's like to NEVER have PRIVACY again! Ha!!!!  I know what it's like to hear "mom" hundreds of times a day and I know what it means to time manage! I know what it feels like when my child tells me "I'm mean" or that he doesn't like me.  I know how awful it feels when my child is ungrateful for gifts or sacrifices I make, and I now know how small one can possibly feel when my child recalls all of my faults.  I know the worry moms have over their children's futures and the doubts we have in our own parenting skills.  I know what it's like to question all the decisions I am making for my children.  I know what it means to "get out of bed" for my children on those days when all I want to do is sleep.  All of these things I now know.

What I can't figure out, Mom, is how you did this for eight children and countless grandchildren, with little or no money for the last (almost) 40 years, all while staying with the same man and showing us what it means to honor our marriage vows?!  You may not have been the most emotionally accessible mother or the most affectionate.  You still have problems with saying those three crazy words "I love you" (gasp!) but then again, that's not your love language.  You show love by serving others and I know the life of service you have lived and continue to live today.  I cannot image the number of times one of us has disappointed you or the number of times we were ungrateful for you and to you.  I do not want to imagine the many times a day you thought about "running away from it all" or how many times you asked God if this was all there was to life.  And I can never imagine all the sacrifices you have made for each and every one of us.

So for all that is often left unsaid, for all that you did and still do that goes unnoticed, I (pathetically) say the only two words I can...Thank you!  Thank you, mom for all that I know you have done and all that I'll never know or understand.  Thanks for being consistent and for being you!  God blessed this crazy family with you as the mother and I hope one day you will know what a blessing you have been to us.  I hope one day you know how your humility, generosity, perseverance and quite strength mirrors our Blessed Mother's and that through this life of service our Lord is "well pleased" with you (He would just like you to say "hi" every once in a while.  He misses you, ya know.)!!!  And since I have NO problems with those simple words, let me just add...

..."I love you, mom"! 

Happy Mother's Day 2015! 

Your favorite daughter (in my very "humble" opinion...wink, wink),

Needing to Kneel!

Although we have been praying with our children since birth, we tend to say most of our prayers sitting down.  I recall when I was growing up the number of times, my dad made us kneel to say our rosary and how often as a young child I would fall asleep in that famous child position (on all fours with my bottom in the air...you know the one).  So I never really pushed the "kneeling thing" with my own children.  But I finally came to the conclusion that kneeling in prayer is actually a skill that needs to be learned.  And it's one of which I have come to forget the real significance.

Sometimes life really hits us with the unexpected.  Sometimes it beats us up and sometimes we just let it.  Sometimes life smacks us hard in the face and we have no way to respond but to get down on our knees and pray.

I have to admit that before this Lent, only in mass had I been kneeling in prayer.  I find myself kneeling and crawling on the floor while playing with my children and I cannot get on my knees for our Lord, the man who carried my sins, whose heart continues to be pierced by my transgressions, the man who had to see His mother's eyes filled with excruciating pain at the foot of the cross whilst He could hardly take a breath?  Well, when I put it like that...

How quickly I seem to forget His sacrifice in my daily life!  How far removed I feel from His passion in the midst of diaper changes, meal preparations, house cleaning and laundry!  I recall the difficulty I had trying to live in the presence of Christ after a life-changing weekend retreat while continuing my daily life in college.  I remember my frustration and the great crash!  The let down on "the fourth day"!  Maybe that's just the struggle in life!  Maybe it means my life has too many distractions.  Maybe it means I need to pray more simple little prayers throughout my day.  Maybe I need more time reading the bible in the evenings.  Maybe...just maybe I need to get down on my knees.  Just a few thoughts today.

Blessings to you and yours,

Parents: Washing the Feet of Others!

Happy Holy Triduum, 2015!

I was searching for a picture I could share with you without violating copyright and I found this beautiful picture on Google images (labeled for reuse and reuse with modification).  Isn't it just beautiful?!

The reason it jumped out at me from the number of other pictures I could have used is that upon a quick first glance, to me, Jesus reminded me of a woman wearing an apron.  Not because He looks like a woman, but because of how nurturing this action is.

It made me think of how often we as mothers (and fathers for those of you reading this) are washing the feet of our children, literally and figuratively.  How often we are cooking, cleaning, washing, ironing, folding, organizing, teaching, mentoring, preparing, etc. for our families!  How many times a day we are thinking of ways to keep our houses going.  How many times we write those grocery lists, to do lists, up date calendars, make appointments, etc.  And every time, EVERY SINGLE TIME we do these actions for our family members we are being Jesus to them.  We are washing their feet!  

Oh how this thought lightened my heart!  To know that just through my daily hum drum actions I too can be Jesus to others?  I too can give, can provide a self-sacrifice for others?  I too can be humble just like our Lord, and our Blessed Mother who was the ultimate model of humility?  What a feeling!

So I just wanted to take a moment today, on Holy Thursday to say "thank you" to all the mothers and fathers our there "washing the feet" of their families. Thank you for being Jesus to others!

May you have a very blessed and holy, Holy Thursday!

Blessings to you and yours,

Using the "Sacred Minutes" this Lent!

It's Wednesday of Holy Week and I'm attempting to mentally and spiritually prepare myself to participate in the Holy Triduum.  However, with a 6 month old constantly crying for my attention (he seems to be obsessed with his mama), a 4 year old continually wanting attention, time, food, snacks and playtime with mom, and a house still full of boxes to unpack from our recent move, it can be very hard to find time to prepare the way I'd like. This is really my favorite time of year spiritually.  Yet, sometimes it seems that life throws all of it's distractions at me right at the time I most want to meditate and sit in the presence of our Lord.  I guess I could do one of two things: 1) give up trying to pray and meditate in frustration and just "get through each day" or 2) I can see these distractions as my participation of Christ's passion by carrying my own daily cross and choose to use the "sacred minutes".

What? You've never heard of the "sacred minutes"?  Well since I believe I coined the phrase, I'm not surprised.  The "sacred minutes" are what I like to call the 2 or 3 minutes of silence (or relative quite) I may get several times a day when Pickle may be playing with his toys and little Bean may be distracted watching him.  Or they may be those minutes without distraction, when I'm cooking dinner, doing the laundry, cleaning the bathrooms (Ugh!), washing the dishes or even (if I'm lucky to NOT be disturbed) in the bathroom.  The "sacred minutes" when I can quietly in my heart and mind just ask the Lord to be present in my thoughts, words, and heart.  Those very few "sacred moments" when I may think of a station or  two and meditate on Jesus' way of the cross and our Blessed Mother's great sorrows.  Those "sacred moments" that can possibly even add up to 20 or 30 minutes a day, if I choose to spend my time wisely, where I can immerse myself in Christ's passion.

So today and the rest of this week, I am making this promise to myself, to the Blessed Mother, and to Jesus, our Lord, that I will not throw my hands up in frustration and give up on reaching out to Him during the day, but rather I will use my "sacred moments" and bring Him into my life, right where I am at the moment.

Hopefully you can use your "sacred moments" this week as well.

Blessings to you and yours,

Why I Can't Wait to Go to Confession Next Week!

The very best reconciliation experience I have ever had just happened to me recently.  Now when I say the BEST allow me to put this into perspective for you. I mean the best experience I have had from years of many good ones including some amazing confession experiences when on retreats, to confessions with a wonderful spiritual director I had for several years.  So I am not new to pleasing reconciliation experiences.  

I guess that is the funny thing about us as humans.  Now that I think about it, over the last few decades of going to confession, I have had so many great confessional experiences yet the one that really made me question whether to return or not was the one and only (so far) bad experience I had a few years ago.  It always seems that the negative experiences outweigh the positive, that the bad memories are recalled more often than the good.  How strange we humans are!

Anyway, I digress.  Back to my original story.  Preparing for this Lenten season I wanted to be ready to receive and share whatever graces with which the Lord is willing to bless me.  Therefore, I thought what better preparation than to begin with a clean slate?  

So I again mustered the courage (yes I still have to muster it b/c of my previously bad experience)to head on over to confession early one Saturday morning.  Now there were a million and a half reasons NOT to go to confession that morning.  One, it was so cold outside and I just wanted to stay in my pjs in the nice warm house and snuggle with my kids. Two, the time confession was to start my son was still nursing.  Three, by the time I arrived there was a LONG line for the confessional.  I debated leaving and returning another time when it was less busy.  But I knew in my heart all of these things were just reasons I was creating to postpone my need to walk into that confessional door and ever so humbly lay out my sins to the world (or at least to the priest and Jesus).  So, I did it anyway!

It's not like I had these terrible sins to confess.  I mean, I'm pretty sure, most people who went into the confessional that day said the same sorts of things.  But there I was once again, waiting, anxiously fearfully waiting.  Waiting for what?  Judgment.  THAT'S why we dislike confession so much I think.  We humbly hang our heads in shame in front of that privacy screen or for the very brave, sitting across from the priest, and wait for the judgment that is to inevitably come upon us.  The irony is that am I so fearful of the judgment here on earth but think so little of the judgment that will most definitely come upon me in the next life!  I mean seriously, who wants to see the face of God with a mortal sin on their souls, but telling a priest how I yelled at my husband and lost patience with my kids seems too much to emotionally bare?  Sheesh, I HAVE to put this confession thing into perspective! 

Eventually my turn in line came and I took the long walk down the hall to the confessional.  Dead man walking! yelled a voice in my mind.  I turned the knob and pushed open the heaviest door I'd ever had to open.  Seriously, what did they make this door out of, steel? I knelt down.  Screech, bang, click! Was that a jail cell or the confessional door closing? 

Out of breath and with sweaty palms, I launched into "Forgive me father for I have sinned...".  Oh my gosh, did my voice just crack?  Quickly, quickly like pulling a band-aid off skin.  Let's get this pain over with.  And before I knew it, I has shared all my offenses.  Whew!  Surprisingly, the priest did not scream and run from the room in terror, nor did he begin to bless me with holy water and in the name of Jesus Christ "compel" me.  Ever so softly and sweetly, this tender confessor encouraged me on my faith journey, counseled me on other ways to handle various situations, absolved me from my sins, blessed me, and told me to "go in peace".  Wow, it was over! Sweet relief!

Then the most extraodinary thing happened.  He thanked me.  The priest thanked ME for coming to confession!  He was truly GRATEFUL that I came that day to the confessional to reunite myself with Christ.  This priest, who was already running almost 15 mins late from all the confessions previously heard, took the time to THANK ME!  Of course, I started to cry!  And no the irony does not escape me that both my worst and best reconciliation experiences ended in tears. 

It was an amazing moment b/c I finally realized something.  After all these years of going to confession, I finally understood something that I never even thought about before. Not only do I receive the amazing graces the Lord bestows on me during this beautiful sacrament, but so does the priest if he is open to receiving this grace.  We both are ACTIVE participants and therefore also RECIPIENTS of this grace!  Yes, he is here to judge me with the Lord's prudence, compassion and love, but he also receives the fruitfulness that comes from me being present confessing my sins.  Together we are helping each other become more Christ-like!  

I never thought of confession this way.  I saw it as something I must do to repair my relationship with God.  But what if I didn't go?  What if NO ONE went?  How could our earthly shepherds, our priests, fulfill their vocations? I single handedly (well maybe not single handedly since it takes more than just me), am helping this priest fulfill his duties here on earth.  I am not only receiving pardon and peace but I'm granting him to opportunity to GIVE pardon and peace to another; to fill the need to lead others to the Lord.  

I was as light as a feather and as happy as a clam (which I suppose must be really happy because many people use this expression)!  I jumped up and opened that door with one hand.  Whoa!  That door was so light it almost got away from me.  What was it made of, styrofoam?  I was joyous.  Deeply emotional, yes.  But joyous none the less.  I practically skipped to my car.  All is right with the world!  I have been forgiven AND I have been thanked which means I have been valued.

Dare I say it? I do indeed dare. I can't wait to go to confession next week!!!!

Blessings to You and Yours,  

Why I Vowed NEVER to Return to Confession!

I grew up in a household where going to confession every other weekend was the norm.  Every other Saturday, my family of 9 (minus my mother who boycotts such Catholic “events”), would hop into the station wagon (the golden age before “the minivan”) and we headed to church to confess all the things we had done over the last 14 days.  The great thing about growing up going to confession all the time is that I never felt the nervous anxiety people say they feel about going to confession.  I didn’t even know that most people didn’t go to confession every other week.  In fact, I was actually surprised to learn that we only are required to go to confession, ONCE a YEAR (unless our soul is in mortal danger).  Say what????

In college, I thought I would “stick it to my parents” by only going to confession once a month. Ha! Take that, suckas!  But once I began that slippery slope of allowing myself to slack on going to confession, I found myself, as I got older and older, making excuses not go to confession and easily fell into the trap of waiting several months between partaking in the sacrament of reconciliation.

Again, I didn’t think much of it because, well hey, I was going way more often than we are “required” to go so I must be doing alright.

 

Then it happened.  The traumatic experience EVERYONE fears will happen in the confessional, happened to ME!  Only a handful of people actually know this story, so…you won’t tell anyone will you (wink, wink)?

 

A while back, after a wonderful Lenten season and lots of prayer on my part in preparation for Easter, I was energized and on fire from the Holy Spirit. I was turning over a new leaf.  No more waiting a few months before heading to that wonderful sacrament of reconciliation.  No more excuses.  “I’m definitely going once a month if not every 3 weeks” I promised myself.  Why not go?  I feel so GREAT afterwards. I mean my sins are forgiven.  FORIGIVEN!  Not just forgotten, not just set aside. NO FORGIVEN.  The slate is wiped clean and I am as fresh as the morning dew and sweet as the smell of a baby’s bottom (well clean bottom that is). Heck yeah!  Let’s get my confession on, people!!

So a week or two after Easter, I found myself in the confessional on a lazy weekday morning.  There was no line.  No one was knocking down the door of the confessional to get in.  It was just me, the priest and Jesus.  Ah! It is gonna be a great day, I thought.

I began ”Forgive me Father for I have sinned! It’s been three weeks since my last confession…”.  Here I went, confessing my struggles over the past 21 days.  I’m feeling good.  This is going well I tell myself.  Why would I ever not want to go to confession? and I’ll never let myself wait so long again I drone on in my head.  All these great feelings running through me as I am confessing when it happened.  “Hmph, ARE YOU GOING TO CONFESS YOUR SINS SOMETIME TODAY?” was shouted at me from the other side of the privacy screen.  I stopped, frozen with fear.  Within milliseconds I think, Did…uh…did that just happen? Did the priest just interrupt me confessing my sins to yell at me for…NOT confessing my sins?  Oh NO HE DIDN’T!  Righteous anger came over me (as least I thought it was righteous). I sighed and shouted right back “GEEZ!”  Ok, ok, so it was not the best come back in the world.  But really, he was just LUCKY other words didn’t come flying out because boy was my brain fighting to keep them contained.  With my hands shaking from anger (and, let's be honest, a bit of fear), I went on and quickly finished my confession.

I know what you are thinking, Why the heck didn’t you just walk out?  Well the truth of the matter is that all this occurred probably within less than 10 seconds from start to finish of my confession (you better believe I said that act of contrition so fast his head was probably spinning).  I was just so shocked that it happened at all and it took all of my effort not to yell at this priest (my parents taught me well), that I just stayed and went through the motions I suppose.  Hey, nobody is ever going to accuse me of being quick thinking in a crisis, that’s for sure.

As soon as I heard the words “Go in peace” I booked it out of that confessional, ran out of the church and got into my car faster than I’d probably moved in a long time.  I cried and cried all the way home, coming up with some very clever quips I told myself I should have said, along the way.  Oh I’m so witty after the fact!

I was devastated. I couldn’t believe I got yelled at by a priest!  In confession.  For not confessing…fast enough?  I felt like a child being scolded by her parents.  I vowed to NEVER go back to confession again!  Never again would I let someone talk to me like that when I was at most vulnerable!  I didn’t want to feel alone in my anger and disappointment.  So I went to the closest "most reliable" (ha!) source to find others who have been in my shoes. I scoured the internet and read stories of people who had horrific, terrifying, traumatic reconciliation experiences and never returned to receive the sacrament in 10, 20, even some 30 years later.  So many stories!  So many people hurt at a time they are sharing all of themselves, the good, the bad and the ugly.  So many people pushed away from the Lord!  My head was spinning and my heart was broken for them because they never received the sacrament again (at the point they wrote those stories on the internet at least).

Then it hit me, like a cold wind smacking me in the face on an icy cold winter morning!  Could I NEVER go back to confession?  Could I NEVER receive this wonderful, blessed sacrament again just because of one man who either was having a bad day or was just a plain ol' flawed human being and a bad confessor?  Just the thought of never feeling that wondrous feeling I get after receiving the sacrament, the feeling of a weight lifted off my shoulders, the feeling as if I am lighter than air, made me stop in my metaphorical tracks.  No I could never deny Jesus the relationship He so desperately wants with me.  And that includes asking for forgiveness and being pardoned for my sins.  

So, I decided I would work on building up the courage to go again “sometime” in the future.  In the meantime, I prayed for the priest that he also learned a lesson in the confessional that day and would show others a compassion and understanding he did not show me.  I still pray for him to this day whenever this story comes to my mind.

To be perfectly honest, it took me several months before I could show my face in a confessional again and no I never returned to confession with that priest.  But those feelings of fear, disappointment, and humiliation have not gone away.  Yes they have lessened a bit but are still all too present. If I just think about going to confession, I get butterflies in my stomach.  I finally understand the feelings of anxiety people have about confession.

In retrospect and after much time processing this situation, I do believe that the devil was at work that day (yes even in a church, I think he tries desperately to be at work).  I believe this experience was one way in which he hopes that I would cease going to confession.  Sadly for him, I have not and will not ever give in!

To those of you out there who have had an awful reconciliation experience, I want to let you know that I’ve been there.  I know how it feels to be humiliated at the moment you are at your most vulnerable.  But I ask you to never let one human being stop you from improving your relationship with Christ.  Thwart the devil’s plan by saying “yes” once again to the sacrament of reconciliation.  I promise you, the feeling you get after receiving the sacrament is so worth it!

To any clergy out there reading this I just want to say “Be kind”.  Yes you have many, many duties.  Yes you are tired and have to look forward to hundreds or thousands of confessions this Lenten season.  But please, please, be careful with your words as you have our hearts, minds, and souls (truly) at your disposal.  You don’t know what anxiety, fear and stress we had to conquer just to walk through that confessional door!  Do NOT push us away from the sacrament of reconciliation.  Just be Christ to us!

After all this serious talk, I thought I'd share this picture to lighten things up a little!

 

Blessings to You and Yours,

P.S. It’s not all gloom and doom.  Soon I shall share with you my very BEST confession experience (which has just happened recently), so stay tuned and look for that in the next few weeks.