Real Love

Eleven o'clock has passed and I should be in bed like everyone else. But I'm not. It's been a long day and this is the first moment I've had alone; a moment to breathe deep; a moment to find Him. He is there, always there ready to listen and to console. Thank you, my Jesus.

It's been just about a month now that my Katie has been diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis. It has been a month filled with all sorts of uphill climbs, blind alleys, smooth sailing then back to rough seas. At least now we have been given a ray of hope; a light at the end of the tunnel. Initially, the neurologist in the hospital presented quite a bleak picture for Katie beginning with his diagnosis. Definitely multiple sclerosis and a pretty bad case of it according to the MRI report. The doctor did not provide her much hope. Katie, newly married and the mother of a nearly 6 month old baby, wondered if she would spend the rest of her life wheel chair bound.  "Perhaps." He didn't really know. He would start her on a daily regimen of copaxone, a drug that inhibits the spread of the disease.  In the meantime, Katie made an appointment with another well known, highly recommended neurologist in our area.

She met with Dr. Ruben Cintron last week. He spent over an hour with her - chatting, explaining, studying her MRI results and finally, gratefully, offering her hope - showing her the light at the end of the tunnel. He spent several minutes looking and studying carefully each slide of the MRI. He read the radiologist's report. Finally, he said he was baffled. The report presents a fairly grim picture that is actually not reflected in the images. Some of the areas the radiologist referred to as 'lesions' were simple too vague for Dr. Cintron to make that determination. He said, "You probably have MS, you may not, but if you do it is a very mild case." He agreed to treat her with the copaxone as it will help if it is MS and it won't hurt if it isn't. He explained that neurologists almost never diagnose MS immediately after a patient presents her first episode. Normally, the patient is initially diagnosed with transverse myelitis which may be caused by a virus, MS or even Lyme disease. (Although Dr. Cintron is fairly confident it is not Lyme.) After a patient recovers from her first episode, it isn't until a second bout of symptoms occurs that the doctors will then confirm the MS. There may be a lapse of many years before the second episode occurs. Dr. Cintron told Katie that some patients experiencing transverse myelitis take up to a year to recover, but he feels she will be back to her old self in 2 to 3 months. I think if she could, Katie would have done the happy dance!

For now, the solu medrol (steroid) that Katie received in the hospital (a urinary tract infection sent her back to the hospital last week) has worn off leaving her in a severely weakened state. She cannot walk and is worn out by the simplest task. Dr. Cintron is putting her back on a round of steroids that she can take orally at home. In the meantime, with juggling our work schedules and with help from Sam's mom, we manage to take care of Katie's needs and little Isaac's, too. God sent us such a dear, sweet baby! Smiling all the time, hardly ever a tear. He is a constant source of joy amid this trial. And so is caring for my girl. When she apologizes over and over, I say, "Katie, you're my Isaac! I love you!" My burden is light! Sure, I'm tired at times - but that's because my body has limitations. My heart has none.

I see her struggling to take a step or two as Sam and I help her navigate her way from the bedroom to the bathroom and back and I remember and marvel at the words of their marriage vows, "... in sickness and in health." He is a good, good husband. This has been hard for him - he just wants to make it all better. Perhaps, for Katie the most difficult and most sorrowing aspect to this illness is not being able to care for her little one. "Will he forget I'm his mommy?" she wondered tearfully. Not only was it necessary for her to give up breast feeding him, but right now she can't do all the normal things mothers do - diapering, bathing, dressing, taking him for a stroll, or feeding him a bottle. No, my darling, he will not forget you are his mommy! He will always know and you will be chasing him around soon, I promise. And he will grow up never remembering any of this, only hearing the stories shared around the dinner table about the time he and Daddy and Mommy had to go live with Nana and Grandpa because Mommy was very ill. And how Mimi came, too, every day to help take care of him and Mommy. He will always know  how very loved he is by all his aunties and uncles, grandparents and friends and by his Mommy and Daddy, too, who love him most of all.

Katie and I have shared beautiful moments over the past several weeks. Thoughts and reflections spoken gently to one another. Quiet conversations about suffering and our acceptance of it; about its purpose; its necessity; its beauty. As my daughter suffers, I'm obtaining a clearer understanding of Our Lady's journey to Calvary, walking with her Son to the Cross and how her own immaculate heart was nailed to that very same cross the moment those nails pierced His hands and His feet. We Catholics call this type of suffering redemptive. It is offered for all the atrocities against Christ; for those we know about and those known only to Him. It leads us to caring about other souls and to see them as He sees them. It is love. Real love.

Daybook October 16

FOR TODAY


Outside my window

It is beautiful. Crisp, cool, breezy - an array of green turning toward gold against a sapphire backdrop.  All bathed in glorious sunshine.

I am thinking

That sometimes it's ok to say, "This really sucks."

I am thankful for

          The outpouring of love and prayers from friends and family on behalf of my Katie. And for the    countless unknown souls who are also praying - those members of prayer chains from many denominations, friends of friends and aquaintances, my brother's Masses, and the prayers of the dear, dear nuns at several convents.

From the kitchen

           Nothing new here. Only good, bold coffee.


I am wearing

My p.j.s and a zip-up hoodie.

I am creating

A sweet and beautiful story that, for now, resides in the depths of my soul where it lies hidden and protected. When I have more strength, I'll share it.

On Pandora

Piano Radio - currently, 'Longing' by Jon Dahlander

I am going

To visit my girl in the hospital today.

I am reading

          The Secret Diary of Elisabeth Leseur. An AMAZING story of a devout Catholic woman whose undying love, compassion, prayers and sacrifices and words from her journals led her atheist husband to full conversion and eventually the priesthood after her untimely death from cancer.

I am hoping

         That Katie will regain her strength and walk again. That she will soon be back in the kitchen whipping up some delicious gourmet treat for her husband. That she will soon be able to cuddle her son and dance with him in the light of the moon.

I am hearing

          My husband eating breakfast in the kitchen. He is my rock.


Around the house

          Thinking about converting the living room into a bedroom ... hopefully, we won't have to.


I am praying for

A miracle.

One of my favorite things

           The autmn wind scooping up the fallen leaves sending them swirling through the air in small cyclones of color.

A few plans for the rest of the week

I'm really not sure what the upcoming week has in store. I will continue doing ... just doing.

I am pondering

Having those believers in the causes of sainthood to pray through the intercession of Servant of God, Elisabeth Leseur for complete healing for my daughter. Katie has given me her approval.

A picture thought

Katie's "Boys"

From the simple woman's daybook

(c) 2010 Darby Fitzpatrick

Daybook

FOR TODAY

Outside my window

Cold rain. Fall has arrived and my hydrangeas look satiated, yet bear the marks of a long drought. Alas, soon they will succumb to the frost.

I am thinking

About what I have to accomplish this week ... taking Kate to the doctor, dog to the vet, general housekeeping ...

I am thankful for

Katie

 

 From the kitchen

Finding new and tasty gluten free recipes for Erin (and maybe Katie). Last night I made a scrumptious bacon  spinach risotto that Erin discovered online. Served it with a green salad and a pinot noir.
 

I am wearing

Black warm-up pants, my new Belmont Abbey sweatshirt and my beat up, old Eddie Bauer slippers.

I am creating

A blog piece about suffering and mothering. About LOVE. Mostly it's in my head/heart with a few thoughts scribbled down on a yellow note pad. 

On Pandora 

Listening to the Contemporary Christian station. Blessed be Your Name

I am going

To work at noon. By the way, I am so grateful for my kindhearted, caring co-workers. It is a joy to work with them!

I am reading

Still reading  Elizabeth Ann Seton - Selected Writings edited by Ellin Kelly and Annabelle Melville. And also, "With God's Help" a tiny, little devotional book compiled by the Daughters of Charity. It includes a collection of quotations from the correspondence and journals of St. Elizabeth Ann Seton. I'll be using it, initially, for a new prayer/discussion group I'm starting.

I am hoping

That grace upon grace comes from the events that have recently transpired.

I am hearing

Jesus in my heart singing a very sweet melody.

Around the house

I've fallen behind on my housework, but managed to scour the first floor bathroom this morning! Yay!

I am praying for

ALL the friends, family, and those known only to God, who have offered their prayers, sacrifices, words of encouragement and acts of kindness on behalf of Katie over the past week and continue to do so.

One of my favorite things

Isaac's glorious smile. It is impossible to be sad about anything when he's around. Always.

A few plans for the rest of the week

Helping Katie get to her doctors appointments and I will be launching the new prayer group tomorrow night. Holly needs to go to the vet for a shot and a nail clipping. A baby shower on Friday night for a wonderful young lady! And packing to leave town on Saturday - going to see my baby, Megan!! (And my mom and sisters & brothers, too!)

I am pondering

"My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." (2 Cor 12:9)

A picture thought

 

 

From the simple woman's daybook

 

 

 

 

(c) 2010 Darby Fitzpatrick

Daybook, the first

FOR TODAY

Outside my window

It is gray and a balmy 78 degrees. Most welcome rain showers fell intermittently all day long. But I'm afraid it's too late for my tired hydrangeas. Poor things, how I've neglected them. 

I am thinking

About my Jim and all the wonderment that's in store for us.

I am thankful for

My precious little Isaac Jogues Samuel.

 

 From the kitchen

 

Yesterday I made Chicken Paprika from the Joy of Cooking cookbook with spaetzle (from a box). I was deliberately heavy handed with the paprika. It was delicious! My Grandma Collins used to make it and then my mom made it for my dad and her kids. As a child it was one of my favorite dinners and still is. Shame on me for using boxed spaetzle! Mom always made them from scratch.
 

I am wearing
 

A very old pair of sweatpants, an equally aged t-shirt from Luray Caverns and my beat-up, well worn out (but really not quite so old) Eddie Bauer slippers.

I am creating

 

A little bit of not very good poetry ... again.

On my iPod

My iPod needs to be charged, but I listen to Pandora regularly. Right now, I'm listening to Deeper Well by The Wailin Jennys. Sure, the vocals are great, but the fiddling is Awesome!!

I am going

Nowhere tonight. Jim is working late again, but I do enjoy the quiet, alone time.

I am reading
 

I just started Elizabeth Ann Seton - Selected Writings edited by Ellin Kelly and Annabelle Melville. The depth of EAS's maternal love strikes such a chord with me. Passages in this book bring me to tears. I love, love Mother Seton.
 

I am hoping
 

My dear Katie is feeling better very soon!

I am hearing
 

My house phone ringing. It's a toll free number according to Caller ID. I don't answer those calls. In fact, if I don't recognize the phone number or name, I usually don't answer the phone. I'm just kind of shy that way.

Around the house
 

I've placed some fall decorations around the fireplace and mantel. Makes me excited for a blustery, autumn chill and a stroll through the crisp, fallen leaves.

I am praying for

A very special favor from the dear Little Flower whose feast day is Friday!

One of my favorite things
 

Isaac's glorious smile. It is impossible to be sad about anything when he's around.

A few plans for the rest of the week

Besides the usual routine, um, well, I almost hate to say it ... I may start a new exercise routine. (Sadly, I cannot get excited about exercising, but I've noticed that the older I get the harder it is to hide the "pudge." Sigh. I've got to do something.)

A picture thought

Auntie Erin and Isaac Jogues ♥

From the simple woman's daybook

 



(c) 2010 Darby Fitzpatrick

Ode to a Stink Bug

O thou Marmorated Brown who dost seek

shelter from the coming winter’s freeze,

Who alights upon my curtain drawn and dost reek

when trampled on. Away damned vermin, I bid thee please.

Thou art not permitted here! Not now nor then nor next week!

Away, thou armored pest, away from crevice and crack in door.

Here I spy thee, I spy thee there, I spy thee in my kitchen sink.

O noxious bug hailed from the east, in every home thou cause a stink.

Come, O welcomed winter chill assail this bane I so abhor.

(c) 2010 Darby Fitzpatrick

Isaac at 4 months

Katie gave me permission to copy and paste one of her recent blog posts. Here it is - Katie's update on her dear, sweet boy:

 

 

Our little Isaac Jogues just had his four month check-up.  In summary, he's healthy, very happy, and relatively HUGE.  He weighs 16 pounds and is 25 inches long, putting him in the 50th percentile for height and 50th-75th percentile for weight.  While this may not seem big to those of you who had large babies, Isaac is a giant compared to other babies who arrived a month early or were a similar size at birth. 

I made a list of Isaac's current stats, habits, and accomplishments mostly for my sake, but I'm posting it here, partially because I'm not sure where else to put it!  At four months, Isaac . . .

-Sleeps about 12 hours at night with one quick feeding around 4 AM.  He usually falls asleep between 8 PM and 9 PM.  Sometimes he falls asleep nursing, but he can be walked to sleep by Mama or Daddy.

-Eats like a newborn!  Isaac still nurses every two hours during the day.  No wonder he's so big! 

-Takes 3 or 4 little naps throughout the day.  I think he may be growing out of the catnap trend and starting to take longer naps. 

-Rolls from back to side and almost from tummy to side.  On his tummy, he can hold himself up on his elbows and push up with his legs.  He holds his head up steadily when held in a seated or standing position.  He can stand for a few seconds if we hold his hands. 

-Looks at and tracks dangling toys, lights, faces, his own hands, etc.  He can grab objects like spoons and tries to put them in his mouth, with some success.  He's in the gazing stage now.  I love to look at him when he's nursing and see his big, blue eyes staring intently into my own. 

-Smiles all the time, but especially in the morning.  He recently started laughing and squealing, much to our delight.  He "talks" to us, and his noises and cries have become quite varied.  He can blow raspberries, but if we blow them back, he cries!

-Sucks on one or two fingers.  He loves to play with his hands.

-Lays his head on our shoulders.  This doesn't seem like a big deal, but Isaac never liked this position.  When he was very small, he wanted to be held in such a way that allowed him to see something (e.g., cradled so he could look up at our faces).  Once Isaac could hold his head up, he didn't mind being held upright, but he always looked around and never rested his head.  If he was tired, he seemed (again) to prefer a cradle position.  Now, however, Isaac has begun to lay his little head on our shoulders when we hold him.  It is so sweet!  I love this. 

Our little boy amazes us.  Every week brings a new milestone.  Last night I held Isaac asleep on my chest, and I couldn't believe how long he was.  Looking at him now, it's hard to believe that a few months ago he was a tiny newborn.  Sam and I try to soak in every stage, knowing (as everyone reminds us) that this will pass all too quickly.  

 

 

(c) 2010 Kathryn Phillips

Accompanying Him were the Twelve and some women

In the history of the Church, even from earliest times, there were side-by-side with men a number of women, for whom the response of the Bride to the Bridegroom's redemptive love acquired full expressive force. First we see those women who had personally encountered Christ and followed him. After his departure, together with the Apostles, they "devoted themselves to prayer" in the Upper Room in Jerusalem until the day of Pentecost. On that day the Holy Spirit spoke through "the sons and daughters" of the People of God (cf. Acts 2: 17; Jl 3,1)... These women, and others afterwards, played an active and important role in the life of the early Church, in building up from its foundations the first Christian community - and subsequent communities - through their own charisms and their varied service... Saint Paul speaks of their "hard work" for Christ, and this hard work indicates the various fields of the Church's apostolic service, beginning with the "domestic Church". For in the latter, "sincere faith" passes from the mother to her children and grandchildren, as was the case in the house of Timothy (cf. 2 Tim 1:5).

The same thing is repeated down the centuries, from one generation to the next, as the history of the Church demonstrates. By defending the dignity of women and their vocation, the Church has shown honour and gratitude for those women who - faithful to the Gospel - have shared in every age in the apostolic mission of the whole People of God. They are the holy martyrs, virgins, and mothers of families, who bravely bore witness to their faith and passed on the Church's faith and tradition by bringing up their children in the spirit of the Gospel. In every age and in every country we find many "perfect" women (cf. Prov. 31:10) who, despite persecution, difficulties and discrimination, have shared in the Church's mission... Even in the face of serious social discrimination, holy women have acted "freely", strengthened by their union with Christ...

In our own days too the Church is constantly enriched by the witness of the many women who fulfil their vocation to holiness. Holy women are an incarnation of the feminine ideal; they are also a model for all Christians, a model of the "sequela Christi", an example of how the Bride must respond with love to the love of the Bridegroom.

John-Paul II, Pope from 1978 to 2005
Mulieris Dignitatem, § 27

She's just like me

She asked if I missed having little ones.

Sometimes, I said, I see a mom wheeling a babe in a stroller; one tugging on her skirt; her belly round.

For a split second I think, hey, look, she’s just like me.

But then I remember and breathe … well, once.

My senescent hands, spotted and worn, grasp the recollections racing before me and tuck them away again.  Safe and sound.

And in gratitude, I smile.

(c) 2010 Darby Fitzpatrick

Unforgettable

It was a beautiful September morning. I was at my computer preparing a lesson for 9 year old Megan whom I was homeschooling. She had just started 4th grade. Kevin and Erin were in 7th and 8th grade at Seton School in Manassas and Katie had just begun her second year of high school at home. The telephone rang. It was my mom.

"Do you have your television on?" I could detect panic in her voice.

"No, why?"

"A plane just hit one of the twin towers in New York!"

By now I was rushing over to turn on my TV. I could not believe what I was seeing. It chilled me to the bone. I watched in horror as a second plane crashed into the other tower. I needed to call Jim.

"Honey? Have you heard? It's so awful!" I cried.

I was filling him in on the national news reports, when NBC News correspondent, Mik Miklaszewski reporting from inside the Pentagon suddenly announced that there had been something akin to an explosion there! He soon confirmed that a plane had in fact crashed into the Pentagon.

"Oh, my God (a sincere prayer) - a plane has crashed into the Pentagon! What is happening??" This is war, I thought, we are under attack!

"I don't know, but I have to go." Jim hung up and was off to gather information from his fellow defense contractor colleagues. Emergency briefings were called.

And then a fourth plane - down in Pennsylvania! The world had suddenly, jarringly changed and I was afraid not only for myself, but for my children. And my heart was breaking for all the lives lost and it does still.

My memories of the moments and days that followed appear to me now like snapshots in a picture album. Snapshots that I will never forget.

I remember ...

Hoping Erin and Kevin were okay and wishing they were home with me.

Praying that morning with Katie and Megan and trying desperately to comfort them, somehow. But how?

Seeing and hearing the F-16 and F-15 fighter jets flying overhead all day long.

Seeing tanks and armed military personnel guarding the National Mapping and Imaging building near my home. This is war; we were attacked.

Thinking about my dad, a WWII vet, and wondering, had he still been alive, what he would have thought of these attacks. War always makes me think of my dad because he was so wounded by it and could never speak of it. His memories of it were stored away in a dark, lonely place only he could reach, but once in awhile he allowed a small hint of what lied hidden there to sneak out and you knew it was not good.

Holding Megan every time a plane flew over our house or over the fields where my kids played soccer. Living close to Dulles airport means this happened often. She was afraid for months and asked me again and again if the plane overhead was going to crash.

Seeing flags - American flags - flying everywhere. On homes, in yards, on cars, on trucks, on bridges and overpasses and "God Bless America" banners, too.

People praying. Churches were full as Americans turned to God for comfort, for peace, for answers.

Sadly, in time, people stopped going to God. The churches are no longer crowded. As the American flags faded from our landscape; our pews grew lonely, too. Where are they now? I'm sure they haven't forgotten. Have they?

What will it take to start the flags waving again? What will it take to keep people on their knees?

I'm afraid to find out.

A Morning in Old Reston

It took me 7 minutes to get from my house to Katie's apartment this morning. I was stopped by only one traffic light. How blessed we are to live so close by as it affords us the opportunity to visit often and Jim and I are absolutely delighted to be regular fixtures in Isaac's life. 

Here are some photos of my morning with Isaac and Katie in 'old' Reston. It's been a long time since I moseyed around Lake Anne Plaza. I used to take the kids over there to play when they were little. On certain mornings during the summer we would venture over there with friends to listen to the family entertainment - usually a clown, musicians or their favorite, a comedic magician whose name has escaped me. The buildings looked really dated then, and they appear even more so today. So much concrete ... geez, Robert Simon, what were you thinking?? Just not my taste in architecture, I suppose. Still there is enough beauty around, and the pond, er lake, is kind of peaceful. At any rate, we had a splendid morning and Katie cooked a very scrumptious brunch after we returned to her apartment.

Good morning, Isaac Jogues!

Beautiful Peppers for Sale!

And Flowers, too!

Lake Anne Plaza. The white umbrellas and blue table cloths in the background mark the restaurant where Kevin works, Kalypso's.

Another view.

A sign to let you know there's an Art Studio here - otherwise, you would have no idea. 

Isaac enjoying his late morning stroll and nap.

Katie and I like the house on the right. The flowers on the deck were beautiful, although you can't really tell from this photo.

A view of one of the canals along the path. Swans used to populate the lake, but we didn't see any today.

Back at the apartment, Isaac is mesmerized by a hanging ball while his mommy prepares brunch.

Brunch is served! So yummy!

Isaac and Nana had a wonderful day!

(c) 2010 Darby C. Fitzpatrick

Never too Late for Love

This morning I could hear only one thing, the whirring of the cicadas signaling summer's departure. The evidence is all around; the appearance of those inseparable pals golden rod and ragweed; grasshoppers and crickets flitting about; and the sight of my lovely petunias grown leggy and tired. The nights and mornings are cooler providing much desired relief from the heat and the days have grown shorter, to my personal dismay. Autumn will soon be here offering its own gifts and treasures; its own rhythm.

This autumn will be a time for rediscovery; as if we're coming together for the first time - going back to the start. But it's familiar and somehow ancient, too, as though we have been together forever and will be together forever. Our marriage offers its own song and we continue to dance to its rhythm, those things that come between us and that bring us together. What attracts me most to my husband, his strength and determination, at times pushes me away. My vulnerability, the lack of confidence that has been my constant companion, needs it and appreciates it, yet sometimes it makes me bristle. But he is gentle, too, and caring.  When he cuddles our grandson and offers his broad shoulder for Isaac to lay his weary head, I remember how he was with our own children; how he loved them the way a man does with strength and sweetness, too. And how he still loves them and how he loves me, still. He has few words to express what lies in his heart. What resides there is more precious than gold and cannot be spoken adequately.  He does every now and again, but not often. Because he already said it and meant it, he expects me to know it. And I do, but I need to hear it more than he is willing to say it. And he needs to know, too, that he is loved beyond measure. I, too, am guilty of not speaking it often enough, but sometimes all it takes is a look, a touch of my hand on his, or a quiet walk together after a day proven long and difficult and then he knows. Then we both know.
 
As our children drift away from us, and our time spent parenting is waning - no more ferrying kids here or there, no more picking up after them - we draw together again with much less to distract us from one another; to cleave to one another as we promised from the start and we walk ahead confident in knowing we will carry one another along. It's never too late for love.

(c) 2010 Darby Fitzpatrick