Only One Way To Go

I'm making progress on the whole forgiving people thing.  I was recently shopping memories for  short cut story about my childhood that would demonstrate its toughness and the way it taught me to stand up for myself.  I settled on a great story from fourth grade, until my inner voice spoke up.  "You can't tell that story, she's forgiven."  And it was true!  All the dramatic tension bitterness lends to something like that had leached away replaced with a face that I'm happy to get updates from on Facebook.  It's a new world for me, a new direction.

Proverbs 3:3

This is my favorite necklace.  I wear it almost every day. The front is decorated with Connemara Marble, the official marble of Ireland.  The back is decorated with a portrait of Mary.  I bought it from QVC on St. Patrick's Day a few years back.  From the first time I put it on I knew I was going to wear it out.  The combination of smooth marble and raised portrait make it the perfect thing to finger when I'm nervous or trying to concentrate.   The shield shape reminds me of my grandmother's dining chairs.  She used to lie on the floor under the table waiting for her heart to get back in the right rhythm.  She'd tell me stories to keep me still.  I don't favor my Irish grandfather.  I look like everyone else.  I felt left out of being Irish until my grandfather gave me an Irish teddybear, and declared me Irish.The green is almost the same as my husband's beautiful eyes.  At night when I take it off the clasp has almost always shifted to the front, and I pray for a long and happy marriage as I shift it back.  The portrait of Mary looks like it was originally scratched into the metal.  It has a humble simplicity that is so perfect for her.  It reminds that I am a Catholic, that I hold the Communion of Saints dear, and that it was at St. Mary's Church in Spring Lake where I first understood the Eucharist.

Homeward Bound

We are going back to the beginning, and we are taking the kids!  Kurt and I met at Capitol Christian Academy in one of the Maryland suburbs of DC.  We did a lot of dating on the Mall, so we've always wanted to enjoy all those great sights with the family. This year is the year.  Mea will be off to college soon, and Jimmy is big enough not to get lost.  We're renting a house for a week, and I'm in planning heaven.  

The great thing about Washington is that almost everything is free.  The hard thing is that prices for food and drink are ridiculous.  We're conquering that issue with cheap drawstring backpack for the kids to carry water bottles and disposable snack boxes.  I'm thinking of throwing in a small sketch book, a pen, and either crayons or colored pencils, so when we take breaks they can download some of what they've experienced.  

We'll be wearing our family whistles.  Everyone has one so they can signal for attention or help. July Fourth will be our biggest test.  I'm packing lightweight games to keep everyone together and busy while we wait for it to get dark.  I saw the fireworks on the Mall once in person and it truly is spectacular.  I'm looking into glo sticks and other lighted objects to make the kids more visible at night.  

It is going to be an epic vacation!

Not my own

The truth that we do not belong to ourselves is one I'm ready to return to.   It's time to work on accepting kindness graciously and for admitting I am anything but an inexhaustible resource.  It is strange how love is distributed.  Where you expected great help, there is nothing.  Where you expected little there is much.    Where you expected nothing, the greatest surprises unfold.  It is like manna.  You can't make it come, but somehow it always shows up.  There's always a bite for today.

Some days I am the biter and some days I am the bitten.  But I am not my own and never was.  I think I see this all most clearly when I look at my children.  They have the right to ask for everything from me, but I don't have everything to give them.  I can only give them what I've got, and trust that God will make it sufficient.  I think that's better than pretending to be a paragon of strength or virtue.  Truth is always better than lies, and it points them toward the right place to get everything.

I've been overlooking Jesus in my life.  At one point I felt as if I'd been completely alone my whole life and I told God I wanted him to put on human arms and to minister to me that way.  How is it that Jesus with his human arms didn't come to mind? My life is hidden with Christ in God, and that's exactly where it ought to be. 

Andrew

Way back when, my cousin love-bombed my parents with books from his perspective.  One of them was Ender's Game.  I blasted through it in two days and I periodically return to it even now.  It sent me on an Orson Scott Card binge, but none of the others had this book's power.  Ender's internal voice is similar to mine.  His relationship to others, being a part of things yet always separate, is simply human.  Discovering that you are your community's favorite weapon is an experience understood and whose pain of shared responsibility for horrors, while overblown, is not overborne.  

I am eager to see the movie version, but I am certain it cannot live up to the book.  How will they get us in Ender's head?  That is the sight to see, the rest of it is simply something for him to think about.  

Coming Home

Last weekend I went on my first Catholic retreat at St. Lazare's.  I was at a low place with many things, and I needed help.  Father Vincent and Father Frank gave me that help through silence, through teaching, through the Eucharist.  The part I loved best was Confession. There's no rush on retreat, and there's help in working out your salvation, almost like an IEP (individualized education plan).  The long-forgotten pleasure of having a room to myself, especially with the lovely lake view, was remembered, as I relied on the consolation of privacy should I become overwhelmed.  My fellow retreants were so faithful to the silence, but we were still present to each other.  The food was good, but not rich like a fancy hotel.  Simple comforting meals, including two versions of roast beef, made a nice break, but didn't steal the show.  The grounds were lovely and well maintained.  

I felt as if I had come home.  I felt burdens eased and skills learned.  I felt God.  

They are shutting St. Lazare's at the end of July.  

I feel like a stolen child coming home just in time for her family to move.  I feel like people who visit Disney World on the last day it is open will feel.  I feel like a precious pearl is being ground to dust.

It takes time to make something as wonderful as St. Lazare's, and we are letting it slip away.  The waste makes me so sad. 

Pray for St. Lazare's, Father Vincent and Father Frank

Happy Sandals Day!

The day we set our feet free for the summer! All that shopping, it's quite a feat.