Pretty, Happy, Funny, Real

This is my first foray into {p,h,f,r}.

In some ways, it seems to make more sense to say:  {Pretty Happy and Real Funny}. But maybe that's just me. ;)

Anyway, here goes ::

~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~

 

{Pretty}

 





A (small) snowstorm blew in last week during a spell of frigid temps.
A week later, it was 70 degrees.
Tomorrow we are expecting another little snow.
Winter in northern Virginia.


{Happy}

This is *HAPPY* our son's 13 year old (or thereabouts, no one is certain) cat.
Some think this is a misnomer, but he is tending toward kindness in his old age.



{Funny}



In August, my daughter, Erin, will be attending medical school at Campbell University in NC.
Erin knew previously, but on a recent trip to the campus I discovered that their mascot is a Fighting CAMEL!
Cracked me up!

(BTW, there is a story behind how they acquired their name.)



{Real}

 My reality. Little dachshund poops.
Little dachshunds poop A LOT.
 

Dear harried Daughter

I'm no theologian, but I am pretty sure it is okay to pray while you're showering or brushing your teeth and while you're loading the dishwasher or folding clothes. Sometimes, all you can manage is to pepper your conversations with God throughout your day between diaper changes and wiping up spilled milk. Sometimes all you may manage are deep sighs of "Jesus, help me!" or "I give it all to you today." If you manage to squeak out a quick morning offering, you are doing well.

I remember long days, exhausting days, when all I wanted to do is to run away; when I could hardly wait until your father got home. And those days - one rolling into the other - when I felt like nothing I said was getting through, when I really was just talking to the walls.

I begged the walls (because there was no one else to beg), "When will they learn not to clobber each other, but share nicely instead?" "Will there ever be a day with no tears, no whining, no temper tantrums?"

Those were long days.

The walls offered no answers, but wondered, instead, when I'd finally get around to washing off those sticky, little fingerprints and crayoned curly-cues. Stupid walls.

These days Isaac's smudges live long on my windows. Grandmothering has a way of giving you a delightful new perspective.

Curse those dark days when I did what I vowed I would never do - spank your little bottoms, employ the TV as my mother's helper, lose my cool and scream like a banshee, resort to threats, bribery or shameless groveling. And then ... the guilt. Oh my gosh - the guilt. It would swell up and spill over and down my cheeks.

That's when I would call your grandmother.

Don't fret, my darling. Mothering is hard. Plain and simple.

My grandmother used to say, "Unfortunately, children are not born with a set of instructions." It all seems at times to be nothing more than a grand experiment. What works with one kid, is bound not to work with the next or the next. Trial and error. Three steps ahead, two steps back.

Somewhere along the way, and certainly not soon enough in my young marriage, I learned to ask Our Blessed Mother to fix whatever I messed up that day. For a long time, that's all I could pray each night as my head sunk into the pillow. Well that and an abbreviated version of the Act of Contrition - "God I am so sorry. Give me the grace to do better tomorrow."

I'm certain Our Lady made good on my desperate pleas, as none of you has ended up in therapy ... well, not yet anyway. And neither have I. And the one who was the hardest to raise, the one I tangled with the most, is now my biggest fan. And that is a balm that soothes my worried mother's soul.

Over time, situations and details will fade from your memory, but what remains is love. You will always love them and more than everything else, it is all they really need. 

Love, love, love them. And if it hurts you know you're doing it right.

Loving you madly,

Mama



Katie and me
March 1986

 

 

Katie and me
July 1987


 

Katie and me
August 1988

Tapestry - mid January

Surrounded by His Glory

Hello sun, glorious sun, I've missed you! Even the brisk and swirling, winter wind refreshes my soul today.

This Place called Home

Jim has been busy building shelving units for our new storage room in the basement. The room itself is not new, but it has a new name. For years we have referred to this space as the basement office as it once housed our computer and file cabinets. The file cabinets are still there, but no computer, no desk. For the past I don't know how many years it has become a catch-all for all the myriad of things you never quite know what to do with, but are not quite ready to banish from your life. Those things have a way of multiplying, yes? The room has become a disaster and needs a thorough cleaning-out. I am now (beyond) ready to rid my life of so much of it! Sorting through everything and organizing what we decide to keep (for now) has been deemed my winter project. I was going to begin this week, but the week-long gloomy weather and post-holiday crash got the best of me. (I guess you could call it being lazy, but I think every once in a while one benefits from a week of doing absolutely nothing.) I am ready. Let the organizing begin!

Verbum Dei

The Reading from Morning Prayer this morning:

Never let evil pass your lips; say only the good things men need to hear, things that will really help them. Do nothing that will sadden the Holy Spirit with whom you were sealed against the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, all passion and anger, harsh words, slander, and malice of every kind. In place of these, be kind to one another, compassionate, and mutually forgiving, just as God has forgiven you in Christ. -- Ephesians 4:29-32

The New American Bible propitiously lists these verses under the heading: Rule for the New Life.

I am going to make it my Rule for the New Year. It's what is lacking in the world; a world that so desperately needs kindness and compassion, that so desperately needs God. It begins here, in my own heart, in all our hearts.

Oremus

Offering thanksgiving for the birth of Gabriel Paul and Liam David, beautiful and healthy twin sons of Meghan and David Coen. Welcome to the world, sweet babies!

Pondering Them in my Heart

From Interior Freedom by Jacques Philippe:

"Often, we fail to accept others because deep down, we do not accept ourselves. If we are not at peace with ourselves we will necessarily find ourselves at war with other people. Non-acceptance of self creates an inner tension, a sense of dissatisfaction and frustration that is then taken out on others, who become scapegoats for our inner conflict. So, for instance, when we are in a bad mood with people around us, very often it is because we are discontented with ourselves! Etty Hillesum wrote: "I have gradually come to realize that on those days when you are at odds with your neighbors you are really at odds with yourself. 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.'""

The temptation to say, "Yeah, but ..." is strong. Yet, if we are truly honest with ourselves?

Quote of the Day

There are two kinds of people: those who say to God, "Thy will be done," and those to whom God says, "All right, then, have it your way." - C.S. Lewis

Be careful about what choices you make, He honors them.

All Creatures Great and Small

As I mentioned previously, I have recently developed an affinity for peafowl. In ancient times, people thought the flesh of these majestic birds did not decay after death, hence they became a symbol of immortality or life-eternal. The many 'eyes' on the peacock's plume signify the all-seeing eye of God. The peacock is also associated with the Resurrection, as it sheds it's old feathers for new ones every year. They are stunningly beautiful creatures.



But mostly I'm in love with peafowl, because I'm smitten with Flannery O'Connor and she raised them on her farm. These photos were taken with my (not smart) phone this past summer at a local county farm park near my home.

Glimpses of Family 

Christmas Eve

Margaret's first!

Sam helping Isaac try on his new TOMS shoes from Auntie Erin

Christmas late morning

Megan probably won't like this photo, but she is always clowning around. It captures her spirit of joy. And it makes me laugh.

Erin's stocking goodies. One weird, one yummy!

He always makes it difficult to get a good photo. Too early in the day, I suppose.

Crushed by the weight of empty

... as I took down the Christmas tree the other day.

 

 

Taking down the tree is always a little sad, but this time was different. I actually cried real tears.

Damn you, menopause.

Well, fine, menopause probably had nothing to do with it. (Well, okay, maybe just a little.) And no, it didn't help to listen to woeful songs on Pandora, especially ones about getting older and kids growing up and leaving.

Remember when we said when we turned gray
When the children grow up and move away
We won't be sad, we'll be glad
For all the life we've had
And we'll remember when
                                                (Alan Jackson, Remember When)

Will Christmas ever be the same again? I wondered as I carefully lifted the angel from the top of the tree. I looked at her face. She was clueless. Sure, it has been different the past few years with kids coming home from college only weeks before, and Katie being married - but the movement over the past few years toward a more adult yuletide has never really bothered me (and the presence of grandbabies helps, too). I've handled it well, done okay. Rolled with the punches.

Until now.

Because when I really think about it, it's not about Christmas at all.

It's about life.

Well, I've been afraid of changin'
'Cause I built my life around you
But time makes you bolder
Children get older
I'm getting older too

Well, I'm getting older too

 

                             (Stevie Nicks, Landslide)

Another one is leaving, moving on and my house suddenly, quite suddenly, seems too big.

I realize she has been living away from home since last summer - but currently she only lives 20 or so minutes away. In August, my daughter Erin begins medical school in North Carolina. It is ridiculous to curse this distance. On a good traffic day she will be less than 5 hours away by car. So why the heavy heart, especially when she is so excited and friends and family -- especially her dad and me -- are all so very happy for her?

I remember how I felt the months and weeks leading up to Katie's wedding. I remember because that's how I'm feeling now. Proud as punch, so very grateful, excited and sad.

In a way, Erin has been preparing me for this since she was a curly-haired tot. She was born with a fierce streak of independence and ambition. She crawled and walked at an earlier age than my other kids. She climbed out of her crib before the age of two and ever since has been somewhat of a risk taker, or maybe she's more of a thrill seeker, but a smart one. As a toddler, she, more than the others, deprived me of cuddle-time always eager instead to explore the world around her, content to have me nearby, but not one for lingering hugs and kisses. Yet, even now you know when she loves you because she takes that very seriously and just doesn't offer it willy-nilly. She has little patience for stupidity, but will laugh heartily over the silliest, funniest things and of course, you can't help but laugh with her. Over the years she has accomplished so much, always giving 100 per cent to any endeavor - including building her relationship with God. Her faith has carried her far. She's worked exceptionally hard and is thrilled to begin this next phase, moving closer to her dream of becoming a physician. For Erin, it is more than a dream. It is her calling.

She is growing up and moving a little further away, needing her mama less. I cannot express how proud I am of her and how much I love her.

Or how much the letting go hurts.

The future Dr. Erin Fitzpatrick
at Campbell Univeristy

 

When there is nothing left to squander

 

When all is stripped away.

When there is nothing left to cling to;

to hide behind.
 

When blame like aged mortar crumbles, when

bitterness and anger take wing, 

spewing sullen contrails that swirl away

 into nothing.

 

When you is all you have

and nothing more save shame.

 

 

 Hear the breeze rustling through the sinewy, primeval pine.

See how the sun, ancient and wise begs to warm you;

to free you.

 

Search atop that hill where Love keeps watch,

ever ready to descend,

ever ready to embrace.
 

Inviting you to

dance once more.