Be Yourself... A must have for the Catholic tween or teen girl

There's a fourth grader with a heart of gold who has a big birthday coming up.  I wanted to get something as special as she is and something that would help maintain the love and compassion that define her.  I was intrigued when I heard about Amy Brook's book:  Be Yourself! a journal for catholic girls  I enjoy Amy's writing and how down to earth she is and was confident in her staying true to the faith so it warranted a closer look.  And.This.Book.Did.Not.Disappoint! WOW.

I've read so many things that aren't faithful to the teachings of the church that I always check for an Imprimatur.  Yep it's right there but I was also pleasantly surprised to see that the Imprimatur was immediately below the Nihil obstat.  For those of you who aren't quite as much of a geek as I am, those mean that nothing in the book is objectionable by way of the Catholic Church.  I was so excited to see that!

So I'm good knowing the content is in line with Church teaching but I really want this to be something that will be helpful navigating this tumultuous time.  If it's going to helpful, she has to want to use it and the cover is bright and whimsical and engaging and just leads you to open the cover and discover what's inside.  Once inside, Amy uses a fun font and her warm tone to write the introduction that reads more like a personal letter to the specific girl who is reading it.  Amy refers to her own efforts to understand what "Be Yourself" meant to her as a young woman and explains how deepening your own relationship with God will lead to knowing how to "Be Yourself". And she manages to do it in an open and engaging way that isn't too preachy or teachy and this sets the tone for the entire journal.

The font throughout the book is fun, the black and white with just enough color is perfect to encourage coloring, drawing or doodling.  It has pages to be colored but also pages that are mostly fill in the blank.  The fill in the blank pages are straight forward but lead to really going deeper than you realized.  One list page I thought was simply age appropriate fun was listing favorite celebrities, but then I read the next page and it was a prayer for each of them!! What a great idea to encourage praying for people we admire.  Such a simple yet powerful way to plant the seed that we can (and should) pray for everyone.

Faith, peace, patience, love, hope, feelings, gratitude, forgiveness as well as prayer and relating to Jesus and God.  And everything is so interactive!  Quotes from scripture and the catechism are interspersed with six Saint Spotlights highlighting women who had good days and bad days while learning to live holy lives.  Throughout the journaler is gently led to discover more and more about herself, her world, her relationships and especially her friendship with God by filling in lists, writing, creating, drawing, or simply coloring.  

In case you aren't sure yet, I absolutely love this journal!  There really is nothing that I don't like about it.  It's a nice size not too long but not too short.  So much to learn and discover but not overwhelming.  A bonus is I think this journal could be used for quite a span of ages.  Amy Brooks' Be Yourself! a journal for catholic girls will make a great gift for any tween or teen girl on your list!
To help you check off a gift or two here's a link to purchase the book on Amazon:Shop Amazon for Be Yourself! a journal for catholic girls

Because there always have been

A little over a year ago, when yet another horrible headline was released like so many other American Catholics I was shaken to the core.  I was angry and hurt that men who had made their way to the hierarchy of my beloved Mother Church could have misused and abused their positions to misuse and abuse people they were supposed to be shepherding.  I was so angry and even angrier because they didn't seem to understand the damage done to the trust among those of us in the pews.

During a car ride when I read yet one more post or article, I shared with my emotions with my captive family.  My children are all in their 20's so I was comfortable with this sharing.  My youngest child was about to enter his third year of minor seminary.  He tried to tell me that the church had survived other scandals.  I couldn't even stand to listen at that point and was convinced this was the absolutely worst thing ever to happen in the church.

But as the weeks went by, I chose to stay as committed to my faith as always.  As I heard repeatedly and came to accept for myself: you don't leave Jesus because of Judas.  So I started an Avila group in my parish to pray for vocations.  We pray for grace and strength for existing vocations and for an increase in vocations. And I have kept studying and learning more about the faith. I have listened to some interesting and informative speakers.

During this prayer and study, one thing has become so obvious to me.  There is scandal, because there has always been.  There is crisis, because there has always been.  There are heretics, because there have always been.  And the Church is "dying" just like it has been since the middle ages.  I don't know why I allow myself to get so upset about it.  Not that it's in any way acceptable because it's not.  But the Catholic Church is the Church that Jesus founded.  It's the earthly home of the Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ.  Since that's true, it is obviously going to be Satan's biggest target.  Satan will work tirelessly to harm the church and he will do whatever he can to ruin as many souls as possible.  It makes sense then that the hierarchy and seminaries have been a favorite target for the evil one.

So yes, my son was right and I should have listened to him.  The Church is in the midst of a challenging time but she's been here before and probably will be again. A year ago in my frustration, anger, and pain I forgot to step back and remember what Jesus promises. Our time on earth is going to be difficult and often painful but in Heaven all will be good.  Until then we have this promise:  “You are Peter, and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell will not prevail against it” (Matt. 16:18).

Faith gets a Reality Check

The power of the Holy Spirit is evident in scripture and in the miracles, big and small, that we see and read about everyday.  But do we really believe in this immense power in our everyday lives?   Do we really believe that the Holy Spirit has the power to transform ANYTHING? 

I have a fairly strong and consistent faith.  Most times if I were asked that question about the Holy Spirit transforming anything, I wouldn't hesitate to answer affirmatively.  I would say absolutely and cite time after time when God, working as the Holy Spirit, has blessed me or my family.  I would have a false sense of confidence in that belief.

Because today as I sit here writing this I am feeling like I was kicked in the stomach.  I got an answer to prayer that was under no circumstances the answer that I wanted or that I thought was warranted or in anyway deserved.  I am hurt and I am angry.  And me, on my own high horse,  think these feelings are quite justified.  Feelings are just feelings and how you feel isn't right or wrong.  Or is it?

Getting the initial news was a shock so those knee jerk feelings, I believe, are just that.  However, if I truly believe that the Holy Spirit can transform anything then I would calm down and actually pray.  I would stop my interior two year old temper tantrum that I have been feeding since that initial sting wore off.   And I would ask the Holy Spirit into my heart.  I would allow the healing and love of the Spirit to transform me and return my calm and confidence and faith.  I would allow this healing to help me to remember that God, working through the Holy Spirit, has led me through tougher trials than this.  I would remember that God's plan is always for the best. I would accept this answered prayer in the same way I do when I get the answer I want.

Believing in the grandeur of the Holy Spirit is believing as strongly on a chilly, gray, rainy June day when disappointing news shows up as you do on a beautiful, sunny day when every is being answered exactly as I wish.  Our Advocate, sent from God, is with me and guiding me in all situations.  The situations that my limited human mind and heart can't understand are precisely the times when I need to remember and trust in that amazing power of the Holy Spirit.

In the Name...

When many of us read the title of this post, we may just automatically finish with "of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit".  It's one of the first things that Catholic families teach their children.  I love watching parents crossing their children and little ones crossing themselves the first few times.  These acts make me smile.  I love seeing the little ones treasure something that has become so automatic for me. 


Our parish recently did some adult education on the mass using the Word on Fire DVD series featuring Bishop Barron and then included some small and large group discussion.  I had no idea I had so much to learn until I did this course.  One of the topics that the Bishop talked about was the Sign of the Cross and what a powerful prayer it is.   When we make the Sign of the Cross, we are claiming ourselves for Jesus.  I have looked at this special and important prayer differently since then.

After that lesson, I paid more attention when signing myself, realizing what I was really doing.  I thought I had come to an awareness that was as significant as it would be.  But then I watched a gentleman in church sign himself and I gained a whole new appreciation.  This gentleman was a daily communicant and a fixture at our parish.  Always helping, always smiling.  Then he suffered two major strokes on the same day.  It was a serious situation and from what I understand it was touch and go for a while.  It took every ounce of faith, hope, love, and strength that he and his wife had to get through those trying months.  The rehab continues and his improvement is totally amazing.  But what made me stop in my tracks was the beginning of his first mass back, I looked on as he used every bit of focus and determination he had in him to make a sign of the cross.  The importance that he placed on praying this prayer with the rest of the congregation humbled me.  In his example, I really learned what it meant to truly appreciate this simple prayer.  After everything he had been through and the long road he knew was still ahead, this man was truly claiming himself and offering himself to his Lord and Savoir.

So often we are surrounded by extraordinary examples of faith and we aren't open enough to see and appreciate them.  I'm thankful that I noticed this incredible act.  It's an example and a lesson that I treasure.  I hope it's one that I continue to ponder in my heart.  

Michaela's Miracle

The idea for this post came to me the other morning on my way to work.  It was May 13, the Feast of Our Lady of Fatima.  I was listening to a radio segment about the apparitions in Fatima and how it was to three children that Our Lady chose to appear and share her message.  The thought of Mary appearing to children led me to think of Jesus telling us we needed to have the faith of a child.  And that led me to think of when my own children were young and how often we learned lessons from them.  These thoughts reminded me of Michaela's Miracle and that I should share it.

My mom had a very difficult life with many, many health issues dating back to her early childhood days.   Possibly because of the challenges her health created, she was a woman of incredible faith with a strong devotion and love for our Blessed Mother.  Her faith and her grandchildren were two of her greatest blessings.  My daughter, Michaela, was particularly close to her Granma.  They talked on the phone for hours, always sat next to each other at meals, cuddled and read together, and often went to adoration together.  Mom shared what she loved most with the people she loved most. 

When Michaela was just 7, her dear Granma took a terrible turn for the worse.  We were on vacation and got to the hotel for the night and there were 4 phone messages waiting for me.  I called my dad to find out that my mom was in ICU.  She wasn't in our regular local hospital, they had immediately transferred her to the regional trauma hospital.  The specialists there said that there was nothing they could do and told my dad to call the family since it would probably be just a day or two. 

My husband and I had the horrendous task of telling our 3, 5, and 7 year old children that they weren't going to see Mickey the next day but also that their beloved Granma was on her way to heaven.   We decided that I would fly home as soon as I could get a flight and my husband would drive home with the kids. Since this was in the very early 2000's, buying plane tickets online was not something that everyone could do.  Thankfully, one of my dearest friends & her husband have always been amazing with technology.  In just a couple of hours I had a ticket home from the nearest airport and for a great price.

The next couple of days were a whirl wind of travel, seeing my mom who was comatose and spending time with Dad, my brothers, and sister.  It was surreal.  I was often on phone duty at my parents house, keeping distant family and friends updated with the situation.  I remember telling a cousin that it was only a matter of time and there was virtually no hope when Michaela interrupted me.  Here's the conversation that followed:
Me (impatiently): What Michaela? 
Michaela:  Is Granma still alive?
Me: Yes, right now she is but not for long.
Michaela: So she is alive?
Me(even more impatient): Yes.
Michaela: So if God wants her to live, then she will live, right?
Me (completely humbled): Yes, exactly Sweetie.  If God wants her to live, she will live.
Michaela: So I can ask God to let her live?
Me (amazed and proud of her, a bit embarrassed by my lack of faith): Yes, Sweetie. 

I shared that conversation with my dad and my husband.  My dad paused and said that's how we are supposed to have faith like children.  I agreed.  Within days, the doctors were seeing so much progress that they reran the exact tests that told them there was no hope.  There was so much improvement that they said recovery was possible.  They also shared that she shouldn't have been able to recover and there was no medical reason for it.  Dad just smiled and said we'll call it Michaela's Miracle. 

It was a long tough journey that took many months.  Mom was in and out of the hospital and rehabs multiple times.  When she was finally well enough to get out of the house, her first outing was to Michaela's First Communion. 

Just Because Mom Asked

I may have mentioned on here once or twice that I have amazing kids.   My husband and I have always worked hard but we realize that we are truly blessed.  Our kids (technically adult children) are making us seem like we knew what we were doing.  As awesome as my family is, I find myself picking up papers, dishes, or socks (yes really!).  Or doing various other odd jobs around the house or yard that I swear I asked someone to do.  Nothing earth shattering, just annoying things. And I know if I truly NEED help, my family is right there and I have 100% confidence in them.  But every now and then it's frustrating and just because Mom asked should be enough of a reason to do something.

This morning on my drive into work, I was listening to Teresa Tomeo interview Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle on my local Catholic radio station.  Donna-Marie is the author of a book on the apparitions of Our Lady at Fatima.  It was an interesting conversation.  I grew up loving the Blessed Lady because my mom really had a relationship with her, she loved her as a mother and a role model.  Mom taught me very early that Mama Mary is such a wonderful model for us. 

There is a connection here. When discussing Fatima, the conversation has to include the instructions Mary gave the children.  Mary, as our heavenly mother,  has a love and concern for us that we can't begin to understand.  Mary has repeatedly asked us to pray the rosary and make sacrifices to help bring peace and the conversion of sinners.  As I got off the freeway and approached the parking lot, it literally hit me.  Like right between the eyes.  I am just like my kids!!!

I could almost hear Mary talking to her closest girlfriends.  "Mary Ellen is a great kid.  Really in all the big things she's doing well.  But honestly, you'd think she could do a couple little things just because I asked her! I mean I'm her Mom and just because Mom asked should be enough." 

I am a good person and I offer my time, talent, and treasure fairly regularly, but I am a work in progress. I love going to mass and am grateful for all the sacraments.   But so very often, I find myself busy about nothing important and end up missing an opportunity for confession or adoration or I get distracted and end up not saying the rosary that I purposely sat down to say.  So just like my kids, I mean to do all the things, little and big, that my Mom has asked me to do but somehow the days get busy and I don't make it happen.

I'm going to end here and go take advantage of this Advent season to do some of the things Mama Mary asked me to do.  After all, just because Mom asked should be reason enough.

Life's challenges bring growth

This morning when I opened Facebook the first thing that popped up was a memory from 4 years ago.  It was a picture of my middle child, oldest son, the summer after high school graduation.  I smiled as I looked at that sweet, happy 18 year old and thought about the journey our family has traveled since that picture was taken.

That day he had 3 living grandparents.  They were all living independently, driving, involved in various volunteer projects, going to church, meeting friends for lunch or dinner, going to plays.  We would need to call and be sure that they were going to be home if we wanted to come by to visit and if we invited them over, it was possible that they couldn't come because they already had plans.

As I write this post, only one grandparent is still here with us.  We never have to call to see if he's available because he lives in a memory care unit now.  He still has a smile that lights up his face when the kids come to visit but he needs to be awake and calm for us to see that.  It's a tough road to travel with a loved one and sadly, there are many families on similar roads.

But there are those who think that people shouldn't have to travel these types of journeys.  That there is no dignity in living like this.  From my perspective, I couldn't disagree more.  It's through times of challenge that we grow and become better.

A pianist doesn't improve by playing the same exact song, notes or chords.  The improvement comes through continually attempting more difficult pieces.  A pole vaulter doesn't reach new heights by staying with the same pole, exact same form or technique.

Isn't building character and ability the reason that we sign our kids up for piano, dance, swimming, karate?  Kids that participate in almost anything learn that just because you fail in the beginning, doesn't mean you will always fail.  Sometimes it all comes together and you get it.  But sometimes it never does all come together and you learn that isn't your activity.  And sometimes that hurts and that stinks but it's all part of life.  When we try and fail we learn and grow.  And when we have the opportunity to grow beyond our frustrations and failures, then we develop resilience.  And when we are resilient, we are stronger and better prepared for life.

The same is true when we are presented the opportunity to journey with a friend or family member who is suffering.  It's not pretty.  It can be sad or frustrating or scary. It could be a time of anger or frustration with God. Or it can be a time of growing closer to God and your loved one.  Our responses to the situation will be as numerous as the people in those situations.  And really way beyond that number because from day to day our individual responses can change.  And that's all OK because it's an exhausting, humbling, sometimes frightening journey.  Just like every other area of our lives, when we meet these challenges head on, we see growth.  A religious or spiritual person will likely find growth in the spiritual life when presented with the opportunity to accompany someone on this journey.  But I think anyone will find an increase in empathy and compassion.  These experiences can make you realize that being kind is a better option because you just never really know what someone else is going through. 

A Lenten Challenge

WOW!  It has been almost one year since my last post.  I have to admit that I did try to get another blog going on another site with a slightly different focus but that didn't work out like I had planned so I'm back here for a while.  And I have to admit, that it does kind of feel like coming home.

So it's Ash Wednesday and all of  Catholic media, social and otherwise, is buzzing with Lenten devotions and journeys and readings and ideas.   My email account and timeline are brimming with ideas for this season of preparation.  If I honestly look at my journal and think about all the reading and learning and reflecting that I want to do this lent, I need to go to a dessert for the 40 days and do nothing else.   I am super excited about continuing the ladies bible study at my parish, Loyola Press' Living Lent, Best Lent Ever from Dynamic Catholic, and the online book club with WINE (Women in the New Evangelization).  I am attempting to do all of these and do them well.  Plus, I do love going to daily mass 2 or 3 times a week and I don't think Lent is the season to cut back on that.  So if I am really going to stick to this, I will be automatically cutting back on social media and watching TV. 

Don't worry, my challenge for you has nothing to do with being as overzealous with Lenten practices as I am.  My challenge comes from a conversation I had with a woman who is a fairly new Catholic.  This woman, who happens to be African American, truly blessed me this afternoon and without knowing it challenged me to rethink all of my Lenten ambitions.   The two of us were chatting about something completely separate and she mentioned her Catholic Faith.  I shared that that was something we had in common.  She had grown up in predominately black, bible churches.  But she shared it wasn't in the music or clapping or preaching that the Spirit found her and won her heart.  It was in a predominately white, Roman Catholic church that the Holy Spirit spoke to her and she told me, it was just so different.  She looked at me at that point and asked if I knew why.  She was so honestly passionate about it that I didn't want to interrupt her, she continued and said, "It is the Eucharist! It's..."  and I filled in "the body, blood, soul, and divinity of our Lord".  And at that point she apologized because she was in tears and had to sit and pause for a moment.  When she composed herself a bit, she told me that she had just been confirmed in 2016 and it was still so new and so overwhelming and beautiful to have such a gift. Her reverence and love was so inspiring.  We spoke for a few more minutes, but then we both had to get on with our days. 

Throughout the rest of the day, my mind (and heart) kept going back to the amazement and joy in my new friend's eyes.  And it made me think about my daughter when she was in first grade and couldn't wait to make her First Communion because then she would be able to receive Jesus.  Then it made me think about my son the first time he told me he thought he had a vocation to the priesthood and he said "Mom, think about the joy on Fr. Bob's face (my uncle).  Who wouldn't want that joy?"  (Disclaimer, my son denies that this was a real vocation conversation b/c he was only about 6 but I'm counting it).  Hopefully, most of us have had the experience of sharing a First Communion day with a second grader who was just so excited about finally being able to join the community at the table of the Eucharist.  And the conversation and these thoughts bring me to my challenge. 

I want to go into Holy Thursday and the Triduum with the awe and reverence that my friend had today.  I want to use these devotions and reflections as a way to learn and grow closer to Jesus.  I want to learn so that my faith and wonder will grow to appreciate even more His love and sacrifice for me.  I'm challenging myself and you to use this time to fall in love again with the Eucharist, the greatest gift any of us will ever receive.

Empty Nesting

"How's that empty nest?"  or "It's back to just the two of you again."  or any of a number of variations on that theme. Those are the comments we hear these days when we're out and we run into friends.  It's crazy how fast that parenting season of life went.  I saw a neighbor, whose son was a boyhood friend of my middle child, and chatted for a bit catching up on how everyone is doing.  We ended the conversation with her saying hard to believe that just like that 20 years are gone.  Yep.  It happens like that.  So fast.

But you know what?  Just like I wouldn't want to go back to middle school or high school or college, I wouldn't want to go back to parenting babies or toddlers or grade schoolers or high schoolers again.  I did love it but it was hard work.  There were hours and hours of driving, cooking, shopping, trying to divert a stubborn toddler's attention,  planning class parties, sitting in bleachers, anniversaries spent at 2 day swimming championships, birthdays spent at football games.  I wouldn't trade the experience but I wouldn't go back.  

How different it is volunteering for my parish when it doesn't involve a sports team or a class or anyone else in my family.  There's a new freedom that comes from only having to think of the two of us at dinner or in the grocery store.  I have some time now to spend on me and figuring out what this new chapter will hold for me.  I can spend time chatting with my husband or we can both just sit and read and drink a cup of tea.  I actually have time to think and I'm not so busy that I am just on autopilot getting through the day, week, month. 

It's fun spending time with these young adults that my children have become.  I smile when I get their texts.  Just as I always have, I am learning all sorts of things through them.  I get an inside look at their hopes and dreams and hurts and disappointments.  I love talking on the phone about everything and nothing.  I'm aware that often I am a study break and it probably feels less indulgent to call your mom than watch Netflicks.  But I'll take it, enjoy it, and treasure this new stage of life for us.  

And while I am enjoying the peace and quiet and some well earned "me time",  I'm thankful that they still want our input even if they don't always heed our advice.  And I am very thankful and probably happiest when every couple of months I have my busy, loud, food vanishing house back.  I love walking in the front hall and seeing a pile of shoes by the front door.  And I think I will always be sad when those breaks end and I wave good-bye to each child as they head back to their own life.  But hopefully, I've learned to just be present, to enjoy the unique blessings and lessons that each season of life offers.  And to look forward with anticipation and faith to the future.  

Continuing the Journey

Wow it's been over a month since I've posted!  The journey is ongoing and as with everything in life some days and weeks are better than others.  So here's a peek at what and how I'm doing.

December 26 was the day.  Remember this prescription was a class project and it was due the end of November and my daughter wouldn't be home until Christmas break.  That week before Christmas was busy so we decided to get started after Christmas.  My daughter gave me the paper to read.  The calculations didn't look any better when printed out in a neatly organized paper than they had when they were hand written in the lab.  Well, you can't argue facts and I knew what was there were facts so I may as well face the facts and see what I could do about it.  And besides the data that had been collected, I couldn't ignore the fact that I wasn't able to do what I wanted to be able to do.  So I read or skimmed through all the background information and then got to the actual plan.  My prescription to better physical wellness.

To accomplish my goals, which were converted to SMART goals, I would need to a two fold approach focusing on both cardio and strength training.  I would do three days a week on cardio and three days a week on strength.  Six days a week I spend between 45 minutes and an hour working out.  The workouts were designed to use equipment that we have here at home so I can't use the excuse that I can't get to the gym.  If I can walk down to the basement, I can do it.  It is amazing the number of distractions I can find in those few short steps!  Consistency is key but life gets in the way and more often than not, I get in my way.

The strength training right now is a basic total body workout.  My core was exceptionally weak so there is a focus on that but I am working arms and legs, too.  And getting a workout put together by someone who is truly educated is good because the workouts are balanced.  So that means if I work on my quads, then I work on my hamstrings.  Work on the biceps and work on the triceps.  My goals are not to look good but to function as well as possible.  I know that this plan will help me do that.  As a bonus, I will look better because a strong, healthy body looks better than an overweight, out of shape body or even a skinny fat body. 

I am happy to report that in the two months, I have made noticeable progress.  I am able to do more weight or more reps on each of the strength training exercises.  The speed and duration of my cardio workouts have both improved.  I am noticing that my clothing is fitting better and I have lost 14 pounds since that weigh in during the initial assessment.

Walking steps in not a problem anymore.  In fact, the other day I walked up a flight of steps carrying 2 toddlers and it was easy.   And when I genuflected on Sunday, my knee touched the floor and didn't hurt!! I'm pleased that I don't have to limit what I do based on whether or not it's going to hurt.   I am happy to start feeling more like myself.  That is really the encouragement that I needed.

I have a long way to go before I am actually in shape and healthy but I am so much closer than I was six months ago.  I continually need to refocus on eating healthy and not consume so many empty calories.  Gradually, this is improving and I am more aware everyday that this is within my control.  I need to schedule my workouts so that I don't run out of time during the day to get them in.  I need to constantly work on moving from being interested in being healthy and in shape to being committed to be healthy and in shape.  But each healthy choice I make moves me one step closer to my goals.

The Journey.... Getting the numbers

So I had my reality check and my motivation and had committed to my daughter to be her test subject for her exercise prescription class.  The thought of getting back into shape, really in shape was so exciting to me.   During the weeks between my first offer and when we were actually able to schedule my time in the lab, there were multiple conversations and my daughter was very clear about what was involved.

However, focusing on details isn't necessarily a strong point for me.  I see the big picture really well, I can visualize projects with the best of them but thinking through details is something I often gloss over while I'm making plans.  And as the date for my assessment approached, I realized that I had chosen to ignore a few details.  I am fairly certain that I chose to ignore these particular details because my "why?" for this project was so strong.  I wanted to be strong and independent for a very long time.  I didn't want to be a burden to my children.  Having a strong "why" is always important because it can get you through the parts of a journey that are uncomfortable or difficult and that was true for me in this situation.

To actually get myself into shape, I needed my daughter to do an exercise prescription for me.   In order for her to be able to determine the exercises that I would need to get started on this journey, I would need to undergo a complete physical assessment.   We found a date and time for that to happen.  I was committed and I told everyone, whether they wanted to know or not.  For the first time in decades I was looking forward to being in shape, not just losing weight, not just being able to run a 5K but actually being strong and fit and healthier than ever.

All this sounds good and it was.  But when I actually arrived and went with my daughter over to the lab, I could no longer ignore the reality of the situation.  In order to truly assess my fitness level there would be a weigh in, calibers, tape measures, and exercises and the lifting of weights and the results of everything would be recorded on paper.  UGH!!!! Measurements, weight, BMI are not things I EVER like to find out but to have my daughter find out and actually be the person to share this information with me was a very humbling thought.  And that is why I refused to think about it until it was actually happening.

The numbers-- BMI, weight, ratios-- were far worse than I had thought they would be and placed me at a relatively high risk for health issues.  When I had my latest blood work done for my annual physical, the results all came back in the normal or good range.  Now that I was getting these assessment results from this very professional and competent exercise science student I couldn't pretend anymore.  I had been dodging a bullet and I had to face the facts.  I was obese and weak and reached my max heart rate WAY too soon.  Looking at the results of the tests (some of which I couldn't even begin much less complete) and then thinking about my family health history, it was a very rude awakening.

If I didn't make changes and make them soon, I would be looking at a life filled with doctor appointments, prescriptions, tests, and constantly watching numbers.  Remaining independent would be a struggle and I would quickly become one of those very old 50 somethings who struggle to do every day activities. And I would have no one to blame but myself.  By turning a blind eye to my unhealthy habits and ignoring the things I could no longer do, I was essentially sentencing myself to a quality of life that would not allow me to live the dreams I have for my future.  If I had looked closely at what this assessment was going to entail and reveal to me, then I quite possibly would have chickened out.  I don't know if I would have been strong enough to go through with it.  Fortunately for me, I had committed to someone who means the world to me.  I had given myself no choice and for that I am truly grateful. Yes, the reality of both the assessment and my physical condition were very humbling and quite embarrassing. But by going through with it and getting these I have been given the gift of knowledge and truth and a way to change the course of my life. And for that I am very grateful.

The Journey: my inspiration part 1

I always imagined that I would be able to be independent for decades to come.  My Grandma Rhyner has always been my role model for this.  She was always busy, always doing things, accomplishing things that she enjoyed.  She sold Avon for decades (like 6 of them) and she sewed.  She took in sewing during the depression to supplement the family's income.  She could make a winter coat for a woman by just taking her measurements.  And she lived in Green Bay, WI so when she made a winter coat, it had to be warm and really stand up to the elements. She would take the measurements, make a pattern, then make the coat. Later in life, she mostly sewed quilts.  She made quilts for everyone in the family.  Between me and my kids, I think we still have close to a dozen Great-Grandma quilts around the house.  And she donated quilts to the missions.  She was the roll lady at the Cathedral in Green Bay for decades.  Meaning she was in charge of arranging the coffee and rolls after masses.  I admired her because she found things she liked to do and did them.  She enjoyed her life and she was productive and charitable.  And in my late teens and twenties, I loved sitting at her dining room table or in her sewing room, chatting for hours.  Her generosity was admirable but what impressed me was  she lived at home, taking care of herself until she was 86 years old.  The last couple of months, things were a bit more difficult but still she could take care of herself.  She got sick just a couple of months after my daughter was born and died just a couple of weeks later.    I was happy that my daughter was able to lay in her arms for a while before she left us but I was so sad that she was gone.

My goal was to live like my Grandma.  She did her own laundry in her basement laundry room until she died. The first Avon order she missed in nearly 60 years was due the day she died. She could do all the everyday things she needed to.  So when I started noticing that, at 52, I couldn't kneel as easily as I thought I should be able to or get up as quickly and easily as I wanted, I knew that living as independently as Grandma had was not going to be possible if I didn't do something soon.  I had two choices:  give up on a goal that I've had for more than half my life or get to work and make some major changes.  I'm choosing to make changes.  Thanks for reading about my journey.  My hope in sharing this journey is that you will find the motivation within yourself to make the changes needed to be a healthier version of yourself.  So don't just read what I'm doing, if you need to make some changes, join me on this journey.  Leave a comment below so we can encourage each other.  

The Journey Begins

The journey that I am referring to here is my journey to fitness.  Somehow, one day I woke up and was 52, overweight, and pathetically out of shape.  If I'm going to divulge the negatives, I will allow myself to brag a bit.  I do walk for an hour 5 mornings a week with my husband and our dog.  These are not strolls through the neighborhood:  there is sweat and the heart rate is increased.  I can still pick up the 55 pound bag of dog food from the pallet at Sam's Club, put in the cart and get it into the car by myself.    And I have not, as yet, had to go to any specific plus sized stores or departments.  My blood work has always come back in the good or OK range.  No prescriptions at this time. So for a while, it was easy to pretend I was doing OK.

If you have read this blog over time, you know that I've lost both my parents already.  Each of them had significant health issues.  Some issues just were the "luck of the draw" so to speak, while others were definitely the result of lifestyle decisions and perhaps a bit of denial.  I was blessed to spend a lot of time with my parents as their health declined.  One piece of insight from that time, is that you can only fool yourself and others for only so long about being in shape or being healthy.  At some point, the facade will start crumbling and the only thing left is the truth.

So even while I was happy with the results of the blood work, I knew I couldn't ignore the decrease in my strength and ability to do things I had always done.  I lettered in sports 5 times in high school and three times in college.  I hiked mountains in Europe.  Now it was almost embarrassing to admit that I had been an athlete.  I could not do a real, touch the floor genuflect in church without holding onto a pew, kneeling down and getting up while gardening took a bit too much effort, standing from the middle cushion of a deep couch took too much effort and had to be almost comical to watch while I pretended that I was handling it effortlessly.  And let's not talk about stairs, especially if I was carrying things. I couldn't pretend any longer.  I had to do something.

But what to do?  I knew enough to know that I didn't know enough to do it on my own. I had walked away from my job so there wasn't much (or any) disposable income sitting around for a gym and a good trainer.   That's where I was in my fitness journey one evening when my daughter called for a chat.  She is an athletic trainer and graduate assistant working toward her master's degree in exercise science.  Fortunately for me she is taking exercise prescription this semester and needed a volunteer for  a case study.  This was it!  I was so excited that I would have someone who actually knew what she was doing and could get me back to being able to do everything I wanted to.  I immediately volunteered to be the subject of her case study.

So that was step one.  A journey of a thousand miles, right?  I'm excited to say that we've taken the next couple steps and those posts will be coming in the near future.  Is it easy? NO!! Am I more than a little annoyed with myself for getting this weak and out of shape?  Absolutely!  But you know what?  I am pretty stinking proud of myself for admitting that I needed to make changes and acting on that.  What are you ignoring or pretending doesn't need to change?  Today could be the start of a thousand miles for you.

Some thoughts the day after the 2016 election..

So this started as a FB post and I quickly realized that it was obnoxiously long and I needed a different platform.

The 2016 presidential election was one of the ugliest I have ever seen.  I will blame both candidates and the media for that.  I will also blame the people of this country because we have slowly allowed our candidates to lower the campaigns into junior high fights of he said/she said.

I have read so many Facebook posts this morning.  I don't really do other social media so that's why the only one referenced is Facebook.  To seriously date myself and quote Wide World of Sports, my news feed is filled with "the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat".  It is the "best of times and the worst of times" and I have some thoughts now that the election is over.

First, to the people who are saying that the electoral college elected Trump, but the popular vote elected Hillary.  That may be true and it would be, I believe, the fifth time in the history of our country if that is true.  I would like to point out that it is precisely why the electoral college was put into place by our fore fathers.  Right now, it is what it is.  If people strongly feel this is wrong and needs to change, then that needs to happen some place other than social media.

We have all gotten so busy, we have jobs, families (whether traditional or a family of choice that loves and supports us in our journey through life), and a myriad of other interests and responsibilities. We also are able to vent our feelings and opinions about any thing to the world any time we want thanks to technology and social media.  But maybe that's one reason things have gotten so out of hand.

My Grandma was a college graduate just about 100 years ago.  She was a smart woman and a stubborn woman.  She was a high school English teacher and spent several summers working out west.   (Can you imagine the whispers about that?)  Grandma was passionate about her politics.  She read and listened and watched whatever she could.  She did have the advantage of a more neutral, objective media who seemed more interested in reporting facts but she worked at it, too.  She knew how her representatives were voting on issues.  She paid attention to what was going on in Washington D.C., Madison, and her local government.  And she made her opinions known.  She wrote letters, made phone calls.  She told her representatives her opinions and could back up those reasons with solid research and knowledge.  I am very positive that she was a thorn in many sides but she had the  satisfaction of knowing that her voice was heard. My Mom followed in her footsteps and as long as she was able to read and listen and understand, she stayed up to date with her government.  She wrote letters and made phone calls.  Everyone knew her opinions.

How many of us can say that we are that invested in our political process?  I admit that compared to these two role models I grew up with, I am not nearly as invested in my government.  And now that I am thinking about it and admitting that to any one who is reading this blog, I am embarrassed by that. Oh you can be sure I have plenty of reasons:

• Government is far more complicated than it used to be. The huge conglomeration that are our bills are difficult to read and understand and scrutinize enough to know exactly what is being voted on.  
• I'm just busy.  All of us are busy whether it's volunteering, jobs, families, communities.  We have responsibilities.  
• I'm just one person, my voice isn't important.
• It's hard to keep track of everything. 
• It's frustrating and depressing and I just don't want to think about it.

I'm not pointing fingers at anyone else but perhaps this resonates with you if you really examine you personal investment in our government.  I am pointing a finger at myself here.  Because I know better and I was raised better.  I come from women who studied and researched and made up their own minds, they refused to be spoon fed opinions by anyone else.

Obviously, we are a country filled with passionate feelings about our national government right now.  My thought is let's get off of social media and actually get back into our government.  Whether you are terrified right this second because you can't believe that you will have to say President Trump in a couple of months.  Or you are celebrating that fact that you will not have to say Madame President.  Let's actually get involved and let our voices be heard daily or weekly or monthly and not just on social media and honestly let's not wait four more years until the next presidential election. 

Let's go to our homeowners association meeting and help to make the decisions that effect our neighborhoods.  Let's go to our village, town, or city council meetings and find out what the budget is, what they are voting on and why.  Let's find out who our commissioners are and what issues we should be concerned about for our individual counties.  Then continue on to our state offices.  We can easily find the public records of the issues our state legislature is dealing with.  Write or call your representative.  Let them know who you are.  That you are willing to help them and will be holding them accountable for the job they are doing.  And then continue that to the national level.

Maybe some of you will be more involved with a political party or group to insure that on a national level, your opinions are being heard and work to change policy at a national level.  Not all of us will be able to or want to do that but each of us could find out who are senators and representative are and write, call, email.  They have local offices, make an appointment and stop in to see them.  Study before your meeting so you are versed on the issues that are important to you and have an intelligent conversation.  Here too, let them know you are willing to help them but will also be holding them accountable.

Just so you don't think I have lost my sanity, I realize that none of us can do all of the things I have listed.  But all of us can do at least one thing. And if this entire country got involved, took our discussions off social media and into school board meetings, council chambers, and to legislatures, think about the change that we would force to happen.  Right now it feels impossible for any one of us to make a difference but if millions of us got involved we could demand change. 

Let's force our politicians to be transparent and let all of us know what is really going on.  Let's not settle for campaigns that could be scripted at a junior high lunch table. Let's make it known that we are watching and reading and know what is going on.  And if we like it, let's tell them and support them.  If we don't like it, then we'll let them know that and demand a change.  Some of us will get the changes we want and some won't but we will have the satisfaction of knowing we are not just being led around like sheep that have been blindfolded.

Congratulations on surviving this election cycle.  Now let's all promise to be more involved and really try to do something to make this country all that it can be.  I am ending this and going to send a message to my new county commissioner and then research addresses.  What are you going to do?

No, I don't think ashes on my forehead are a ticket to heaven...

but I do think it's a beautiful way to begin lent.  I love Lent.  Or maybe I love that Lent means that spring is coming.  Most years by the time we get our ashes, those of us in Greater Cleveland are ready to move on from winter.  So for me Lent is the first indication that spring really is on the way.

 We are pretty traditional with Lent in our house.   I have a lot of friends and aquaintances that are not Catholic.  Some of them get the "Lent thing", some have no idea.  Many of them laugh or roll their eyes at my observance of these Lenten practices.  These traditions are precious to me and all are practical but you need to understand the meaning behind them to understand that.  So today I'm going to look at Ash Wednesday and it's significance to me.

Ash Wednesday mass and ashes on my forehead.  No, I don't think it's a badge of honor or bragging to get ashes.  I don't think going to church and having someone rub ashes on my forehead is a straight ticket to heaven.  The tradition of ashes predates christianity and was adopted from the Jewish practice.  The blessed palms from the previous Palm Sunday are burned to create the ashes used.  So we as a church and individually have come full cycle.  Palm Sunday, Jesus is a hero!  It's a beautiful celebration:  lots of story telling (ok kids look at it as LONG readings), we get palms when we walk in, there's incense and beautiful music.  It is celebrating the height of Jesus' popularity and his welcome back home as a hero.  Then just a few short days later we're back in church for the start of the Passion.  And the falling of Jesus from hero to criminal.  Peter vowing to always be there for Jesus and then just hours later denying even knowing him. The victory over death on Easter.  And then a whole year of going from the thrill of Easter and knowing that we will recommit to living as good a life as possible to ending up again on Ash Wednesday knowing that we are really a whole lot like Peter.  Using those palms as ashes symbolizes to me the cycle of the church year and my weakness but willingness to get back up and try again to be more the person God made me to be.

When the ashes are placed on your forehead you hear "Remember you are dust and to dust you will return"  or "Repent and believe in the Gospel"  or a variation of these.   These can be powerful words if you reflect on them.  I think about words and have for a long time.  So I really reflect on what those words mean.  God created the universe and everything in it.  He created humans and he did that from the earth, from dust.  I think most of us reading this are aware of what happens to our earthly body after our soul passes on.  So starting from dust and ending as dust.  God created us and gifted each of us with abilities and talents.  He gave us the ability to do everything we do.  Obviously, each gift is different and how each person uses their gifts is different.   Hearing those words can be a reminder that our very being and everything we hold dear is a gift from God.  In the culture we live in, I can't help but think that this is a good message for us to hear from time to time.

Remembering all God has done for us, how far our sin can take us from His presence is a wonderful way to begin the season of fasting and prayer that is Lent.  In my mind, it's good to have Lent.  It's good to have a season set aside to try again.  Try again to be more the person God made you to be, try again to grow closer to God or more like Jesus or one of the saints whose life really speaks to you.  It's just a time to try again.

The Best Laid Plans

This post was written in July 2015 and somehow never managed to be posted.  So here it is almost 7 months later.

We've lived in our house for 16 years now.  It was the house and the neighborhood I dreamed of raising our family.  And our baby is now 17.  I have loved this house.  Enough space so that there was room for everyone but not so overwhelmingly large that it would feel too empty when the kids are off living their lives. We bought the house from the original owners.  They were in their 70's when they sold it to us and raised their family here.  Built in the late 1960's, the original owners had decorated with the times and obviously, took very good care of the house because the turquoise foil print wallpaper in the bathroom was still in great shape.  The olive green sculpted carpet in the living and dining rooms was still in decent shape.  The outside had obviously gotten to be too much for them because you couldn't see the front porch from the street at that time.  The paneling in the family room was nearly black it was so dark.  The price per square foot was amazingly low.  Most people don't buy ugly.  But then most people don't marry a Catholic school teacher, have babies one and two and resign to stay home with the kids and then have a definitely planned and prayed for third baby.  I am definitely not most people and tend to do things most people wouldn't do. So we bought ugly because it was big enough for the family to grow up in and in a neighborhood we really loved.

We have worked on the ugly a little bit at a time over the years.  The bushes out front were gone that first summer.  The foil wallpaper in two of the bathrooms was gone in the first few years.  The orange carpet in the bedroom was gone before we moved in.  But one huge project remained and that was our kitchen and dining room.  The flooring was different in the two room even though they are completely open to each other. The textured beige wallpaper was original.  The dark cabinets were ugly and because of the detail hard to keep clean.  Doing the kitchen was going to be a big project.  And I like to cook and having your kitchen torn apart can definitely hinder that.  My kids still sit and talk while I cook.  I love that.  So even though I hated the kitchen and knew it had to be done, I loved the space because it really was the heart of our home.

We knew we had put it off long enough.   All the kids could drive so the taxi service was not needed for the first time ever. My husband had put aside money to buy the supplies. His best friend, who has actually built entire houses,  was willing to help with the installation of the floor.  I was up for painting.  Everything.  Walls, ceiling, trim, cabinets.  There was one glitch we hadn't counted on.

My Dad. He had been seriously ill for several months this spring but was doing much better.  He came home from rehab the day after Memorial Day.  He needed a bit of help so we had aides scheduled for two two hour shifts each day.  Then June came.  Three more hospitalizations each one lasting nearly a week.  Each one leaving him a bit weaker and more confused until overnight he needed someone with him 24/7.  It happened literally overnight.  I said goodnight to him one night and the next morning I was woken by the phone ringing at 5:23.  He had been so confused and disoriented that he ended up in the ER.  I honestly thought it would just be a few days to get him back on a routine.  So my brother, sister, and I decided we would just split up the time.  Well, that was June 27.  It is now July 23.  He has made huge strides and I do see a light at the end of the tunnel. It's exciting to see him at nearly 84 years old fighting to get back to his life and regular activities.  This week we have added more aides.  So now he will have 9 hours a day with aides and we will cover the other 15.  It's still crazy but once again I am believing that it's just temporary and that he will be back to being on his own in the near future.

Unfortunately, my kitchen is suffering.  We are still living with folding tables holding things that should live in cupboards and walls half painted.  Counters that need to be constantly cleared because of the patching, priming, and painting that need to be finished.  I don't like clutter, it just stresses me out.  And right now every inch of living space in my house is cluttered.  And I HATE it.

I am a big believer in things happen for a reason and that everything is a chance to learn and grow.  This is the summer of having no control for me.  I consider myself a person of faith and absolutely trust that God has a plan and is in control.  My lesson this summer is to practice that faith and trust.  This is not how this was supposed to go.  I knew what I "needed" to accomplish.  What I wanted to do with my family. Virtually none of that has happened.  Instead, I am learning and sacrificing and praying.  A lot.  And trying to refocus on what really matters.

Ninth Day of Christmas

Today is January 3 and it's the ninth day of Christmas.  One of the many things I love about being Catholic is the liturgical calendar.   If a holiday is important enough to be a holiday, then it is important enough to be a season.  So we celebrate the two major holidays, Easter and Christmas, for weeks not days.

I am writing this early on Sunday morning next to my Christmas tree with it's beautiful colored lights and wonderful assortment of ornaments that tell the story of my children's childhood.  All of the Christmas decorations are still up and will remain that way for a while. In a couple of hours my family and I will go to mass.  The church will still be decorated with Christmas trees and the music will still be from the Christmas section of the hymnal. And I love it.

Why?  Why keep celebrating?   It takes this much time to fully appreciate this gift.  And everything about the amazing God who loved us so much to send his only son to save us.  To save us from our sinful world and our own sinful tendencies.   You cannot fully appreciate and celebrate what this means, what Mary and Joseph and Jesus went through in those early years in a one day celebration.  It takes weeks to fully tell the story. It's a story and gift that is impossible for us to really understand but we spend weeks every year retelling the story, trying to appreciate it at least a little more each year.  Trying to appreciate that fact that nothing we have ever done or ever could do make us worthy of the love and mercy God has shown us in giving us the gift of his son.  So I will continue to enjoy the decorations and continue to reflect on the greatest gift given to the world.  And I will probably be among the last to wish you Merry Christmas and to encourage to take a moment to appreciate this season and all it means just one more time before you move on to fully embrace 2016.

On Lent and Being Part of Something Bigger

Yesterday was Ash Wednesday.  The first day of Lent and 40 days until Easter.  For many Catholics it's a big deal.  I love Lent and follow the traditions and guidelines set forth by the Church.  Let me first say that under no circumstances do I think that walking around with the absolute biggest cross of ashes I have ever received (Fr. Russ was on a roll with making sure they were visible!)  makes me a saint or any better than anyone else.  I do not eat meat on Ash Wednesday or any Lenten Friday.  Again, I don't think anyone is getting a ticket to hell if they have a burger on any of those days.  And I don't think it makes me any better than anyone else.  And really, there are so many days of the year I don't eat meat that it would almost be deliberate if I did eat meat.  Now the fasting on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday is a completely different story and is REALLY tough for me!!!

My husband and I observe the Lenten traditions and strongly encourage our children to observe them.  I think we need traditions and rituals to help us journey through this thing we call life.  I think we need time that is specifically set aside to focus on our God and our relationship with him.  I try to focus on my relationship with Him.  I am part of a bible study.  I read and pray and learn and try to grow.  I like learning what family and friends are doing to grow spiritually.  But taking these weeks before Jesus' passion to remember the ultimate sacrifice and then sacrifice something in my life to make me more aware of how I need my God in my life. It's not really about ashes or fish or giving up chocolate but it's about reminding ourselves daily that God gave all for us and trying in some tiny way to remember to live a life that more closely resembles the life we want to live or the life that Jesus lived while He was here.  So while I know people who think giving up meat on Friday is ridiculous, I say nothing is ridiculous if it makes you think of the sacrifice done for you and appreciate it just a little bit more.  Most parents I know appreciate their own parents even more after a sleepless night, a round of the flu, or writing a check for a prom dress or wrestling camp.  The same is true here, a little sacrifice on our part can help us appreciate the sacrifice God made for us.  That is the idea behind Lent.  Looking at our mortality, our weaknesses and our dependency are uncomfortable.  As a society we don't like to do that so I think that's why Lent can be so uncomfortable.

As I prayed before mass yesterday with my lifelong friend (really she's my twin sister so it is as lifelong as it gets!) kneeling next to me, I realized once again that one of the things I love about being Catholic is being part of something bigger than me.  I was doing the same thing that my mom did on Ash Wednesday for 78 years and that my dad has been doing for 83 years.  My grandparents before them. My great grandparents before them.  And back hundreds of years on this continent, in Europe, and in Ireland. It's comforting to me to be a part of something so long term. I feel closer to the people I have loved and have gone on to heaven before me.  During mass, I feel in a special way that I am once again doing something with those people and I love that.  Now not one of those people that I knew (so I am assuming the people who raised them were similar) ever agreed with every single thing a priest or bishop said or did.  I'd throw some popes into that list, too.  But the Church itself, the sacraments, the real presence in the Eucharist, those are things I treasure and cling to.  And things I treasure are worth staying a part of and making better and making sure they are there to pass on to the next generation.  And so I observe our traditions and I appreciate that the meaning is way deeper than meat, fish or ashes.

All Grown Up

As you know I have the privilege of being mom to 3. My baby is 17 and I am refusing to call him a young adult.  This has nothing to do with him or his maturity  (don't ask his siblings to verify that) but it is simply me digging my heels in and holding on to having a child still.  And it's also about me bucking the norms I see at work where too often 17 year old students and their families believe them to be grown and ready to make all their own decisions.  I can assure you that this often does not work out for the best.  So my 17 year old is still my child, my baby.  He has to let me know where he is, what he is doing at any time I ask or whenever the situation changes.  And yes this insistence gets me teased by all three kids. We laugh about it and yet it continues.   I'm Irish and German, if I am anything it is stubborn.

My 19 year old is half way through his first year of college.  He has successfully completed a semester of college classes while living out of state, playing football and working 8 hours a week.  However, I still think of him as my little boy. But we were on campus with him for his football banquet last night and it occurred to me on multiple occasions that he truly had grown up.  He's always been good about holding doors so while I appreciate it, I have come to expect it.    But while surrounded by coaches, teammates, and their families he voluntarily took my purse so I could hand my coat to my husband to take to the coat room.  He didn't even flinch.  At the end of the banquet, he looks at me and tells me that you and Dad have to get on the road before it gets any later.  While walking us to the car, I made a mom comment about something and he said, "I know, I live here."   It was such a strange mixture of a knife stabbing my heart and pride at the young man he's becoming.  When I told him that sounds strange to me, he agreed.  However, there were enough silly comments and laughter among his teammates through the night to remind me that my little boy is still in there and having fun is still a top priority.  

Then there is my daughter.  She is 21 so really there is no getting around whether or not she's an adult.  I spent the year she was 20 adjusting to that fact. Because really once you are past your teens, it's hard even for a mom to insist that you are not a young adult.  At 21 it's impossible.  But being a legal adult and truly being a grown up are two entirely different things.  She is in the process of applying for athletic training internships (say a prayer that she gets the one she just applied for please) and looking at graduate schools.  I am lucky enough to be asked to read essays that she writes for her applications.  I consider it a blessing just to be consulted in these things at this point in her life.  But I am so impressed by what I read.  Her insight and self-knowledge is beyond her years.  I am humbled and grateful when I read paragraphs about her growing up years.  I am amazed by the goals she has and the plans she is making to achieve those goals.   She is on track to make her dreams come true.  She knows what needs to be done, she knows it's up to her to work her tail off, push herself out of her comfort zone, and go after those dreams.   Yes, this one is a grown up, an amazingly beautiful person, and an excellent role model for her brothers. There is no denying that this young woman is a grown up.  I am proud to be her mother and now I am even prouder to call her my friend.  

The transition from 17 to 21 is a difficult one even if it is peaceful and without a lot of confrontation.  It is hard to go from child to adult.  It is hard to go from parenting a child to being a parent to an adult.  It is fun and interesting and always a unique experience.  It's a challenge and a rite of passage for all involved but one that is so worth the journey.

Observations from Football Games

 If you have never seen Division III football, you are missing something special. A bunch of young men who know they are going to school to get an education that will lead to graduate school or a job. But they still love football and aren't ready to give up on being the "boys of fall" yet.  And there's an assortment of fans in the stands to go with those boys on the field.  I've enjoyed these games.  The play is enthusiastic and fun. And there is just something so middle American about the entire event.

One Saturday we drove to West Virginia for the game.  Seated in the row in front of us just a few seats over was an English professor and her husband.  Next to them was another teacher from my son's school.  It was a cold, windy, rainy day and here were two teachers spending their Saturday watching their students play ball. Not because of incredible tailgates or exciting televised coverage of scholarship cheerleaders or bands. Just because they wanted to be there to watch their students.  I loved that my son is going to a school that has teachers so invested in their students.

Another Saturday we went to small town Southwestern PA for the last game of the regular season.  Our team was going for an undefeated season.  We had already gotten our conference championship trophy the week before and with that our spot in the DIII playoffs.  The other team was playing for pride and the bragging rights to say they were the only team in the conference to beat us.  There were close to 5 thousands of people there.  It was a hard fought game and they got the bragging rights.  The boys played hard, the other team made fewer mistakes and earned the victory.  Somehow that makes it easier to take on one hand and yet harder to take on the other hand.  One particular memory stands out from that sunny afternoon.

Prior to the kickoff when the typical announcement for the national anthem was made, the entire stadium went silent and I think the area surrounding the stadium did, too.  You truly could have heard a pin drop.  Hats were off, people sang, and students from local high schools and both colleges stood still, silent, respectful.  It was touching.  I teach at an inner ring urban school and we have to have announcements to instruct students on the appropriate behavior for the national anthem or pledge of allegiance.  Not here in Southwestern PA, not among those boys on the field or the assortment of fans that come with them.   The atmosphere gave me a chill because I felt like that respect had been learned and earned through family members who made that moment possible. Parents, siblings, grandparents, uncles, aunts who had served and those who hadn't but wouldn't let the respect for that service be forgotten. It touched my soul.