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.
Wednesday, December 7, 2016
Wednesday, November 9, 2016
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:
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?
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.
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?
Sunday, February 7, 2016
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.
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.
Monday, February 1, 2016
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.
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.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
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.
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.
Thursday, February 19, 2015
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.
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.
Sunday, February 1, 2015
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.
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