Cast of Characters

I read a book recently that had a Cast of Characters at the beginning of it. You know those pages in the front where they outline who you are going to meet so that when you forget the names later in the book, you can always look them up. Rather helpful if you ask me.

This got me thinking about the Cast of Characters in my own life... I was thinking about how on earth I would figure out how to write one for myself. Who do you include? Just my immediate family alone is kind of an overwhelming cast of characters- both in sheer numbers and describing the role each one plays in my story. And then if you went into extended family (gasp!), friends, extended friends, the rest of my community... What a cast it would be!  

I started one, just for fun... and quickly got stumped. It is overwhelming enough just to list family, spouses, kids and then I started on friends, which is where it got really crazy. I have so many friends, near and far. Daily contact, monthly contact, yearly contact. Just because Friend X lives out of state and we're terribly bad at phone calls doesn't mean she isn't part of my life, my story. She may have played a larger role in some part of my history, but she's certainly part of the story. I get excited for a new baby (or 5). I visit when possible. She and her family take up heart space -- they are part of who I am, even from a distance.  But how on earth would you ever list and describe all of those people? And their spot in your story?  

It keeps circling around in my mind lately... and it's kind of an interesting place to let your mind wander. And it makes me so grateful for the Cast of Characters in my story, even if it is too complicated to actually write it all up.  

What about you? What does your Cast of Characters look like?  

Sadness

It has been a heavy week. Last week, our community buried a 12 year old girl who lost her battle to brain cancer. I didn’t know her personally, but had been praying for her for a few years and following her story. And I know her grandfather, who is a deacon at our parish. She was one of us. Community. And she died so young. The world only sees the tragedy, the heartbreak… and I certainly see and experienced that, even from a distance. And yet, we also see the victory in her death. She fought the good fight and was going Home. She reached the Beloved face to face!!! What more could any of us hope for? 

The same day, they found a young man in our community dead. I still don’t have all the details, but apparently a freak accident. His older sister was my best friend all through middle and high school. His big brother is a good friend and married one of my longest childhood friends. I worked in his dad’s store in high school. We went to the same daily Mass for years. We rubbed elbows serving at Mass on occasion. He was a vibrant, joyful, and faithful witness of God’s great love to all those around him. And at age 23, he is gone. It is heavy. I trust that He is going or has gone Home. Victory. And yet there are so many unanswered questions. So much sadness, not just at the gap in my life, but the gap for those that loved him and were so close to him. That shared so much more of their lives with him.

I was talking to a good friend who lives out of state and she was missing this community while getting ready for her new baby. Our community makes such a big deal about new babies and their grand entrance, and she’s missing some of that where she’s at.

Community is an amazing thing. We really do bear one another’s burdens, weep with those that weep and rejoice with those that rejoice. I am so humbled and so blessed by the gift of it. And I am praying for this community as we bury a couple beautiful young people and learn to love each other more in the process. Come Lord Jesus. 

Ecclesiastes 3: 1 – 11.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under the heavens:

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to heal,

a time to tear down and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace.

What do workers gain from their toil? I have seen the burden God has laid on the human race. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.

Lord, help us remember that you have indeed made everything beautiful in your time and that you have a plan and work all things for the good of those who love you.

Ordinary Time

This past Sunday marks the Ordinary Time. It is a little sad to be done with Christmas and all the celebrations- both liturgically and in the rest of my life. On the other hand, it is a relief to be heading back into “real” life. I absolutely love Christmas- I love the liturgies, the reason we celebrate in all of it’s mystery, the decorations, the parties, seeing family, giving gifts, special baking… yeah, I really do love it all. And yet, it does add a lot of activity and chaos into those few weeks surrounding it so that once it is done, you can breathe a sigh of relief. No parties or required functions for at least a month!

This week I took down the Christmas tree, the living room is back to normal, and I need to pack up the rest of the decorations. 

And yet on a deeper level, we aren’t supposed to just celebrate Christmas with all of it’s fanfare and then move on. Go back to “real” life as though it never happened. We are supposed to move forward stronger, more hopeful, more filled with that Babe who was born in Bethlehem so long ago, more empowered to go forth and be the Light that shines in the darkness to those around us. I’m thinking about leaving my nativity up for awhile. I need that reminder. The humble beginnings. The beautiful simplicity of Mary just gazing at her newborn babe. I need to be there- gazing at the King. Taking time to just be filled with his sweetness and his presence so I can be about the work he is calling me to.

Happy Ordinary Time! Come Lord Jesus!  

Community

I am coming to a deeper and deeper understanding and appreciation for the gift of community. I don’t mean “the community” (as in an ecumenical community like the one I spent some of my young years as part of). Rather I mean community in a broader sense. Certainly a good part of my community is my parish. It is people and families we have known and rubbed elbows with for many, many years. I also have community among other groups of friends, old friends, new friends.

Just before Christmas, a young man in our parish died. He was 18, the same age as my sister. I don’t know him personally – other than seeing his sweet face fairly regularly at Sunday Mass. I don’t know his family well, and really they probably don’t know who I am. I wasn’t able to attend his funeral, but there was this deep sense of loss that whole week. Not a personal loss, since I didn’t know him, but loss nonetheless. Part of "us” has left. It’s a community loss. But his death was such a poignant reminder to me of what a gift community is, living in communion with one another, being the hands and feet of Christ for each other. Community. 

Some of my good friends came into town over Christmas. As always, they stayed with her parents and family and as always, I landed myself over there for a visit. I don’t see my friend’s family all that often these days, but I just absolutely love them. It is such a joy to land on their porch and be welcomed with open arms, not shooed away because I’m cutting in on precious family time, but welcomed into the family time and usually fed some delicious meal too. Community.

On New Year’s eve, my plans were of the last minute variety. Earlier plans had fallen through and so I was suddenly free. My friends invited me to their celebration—good times, lots of crazy munchkins. And from there I stopped to deliver a moment of encouragement to a friend who was home sick. And then on to another friend’s house for a game night and ushering the new year. I am so blessed by the friendships in my life—Community! 

The other day I came home from work to find a pan of sticky buns on my counter from a friend who lives a few minutes away. Community. (Erin – you rock!)

Today my second mom stopped in to drop off a Christmas gift and we got to catch up – something that doesn’t happen often enough. I am blown away at the depth and the gift of this woman in my life. Her honesty, her wisdom, and the faithfulness that she lives as an example to me. And the fact that she takes a few minutes in her busy life to pray for me, to buy me Christmas towels, and more than that, that she shares her life with me. I am blown away. Community. The love of God made visible.

This evening I made dinner for some friends who just had their first baby. They are very close friends of my brother and the new dad’s sister is one of my closest friends. As I was trying to figure out what to cook, it hit me again, THIS is such an important part of community! I may not see these friends often or hang out all the time, but they are nearly family to me. And I am certainly going to cook some chicken when they have a baby! And the arrival of such a sweet little person warms me all the way through—little Michael is part of this amazing bunch of people that I call community. What a gift!

Today I am blown away and thankful for the gift of community.

Christmases Past

My homies and I were talking about Christmas traditions the other day, which really got me thinking. You know those traditions when you are a kid that you dream will never change. Those things that really make Christmas special, so "Christmas"? And then you get older, and traditions evolve. They have to. Life evolves and changes, the situation is different, there are different people involved (and lots of them!) ... Still I think it is cool to take a few moments to reflect on where we've come from, memories and traditions from childhood, and to remember what is important and special about Christmas now.

Ahem.

My childhood. My earliest Christmas memories as a kid are at the old, old house (we moved from there when I was 5). I remember the Christmas tree in the corner. I remember sneaking down the stairs to see it. I remember matching pajamas (the pictures do help jog that memory). And that's about it from those earliest memories. Just some random snapshot Christmas moments in that house.

As I got a little older, we always drew names among the siblings (or at least since the timesI have clear memories). We would try to keep it a secret, who had who, but someone would always squeal. And I used to find out who had who on a regular basis. Information is power. Or not, but it was always kind of a thrill to know when not everyone knew. And we would open our gifts from each other on Christmas eve. Oooh ahhh. I remember the excitement and anticipation-- gifts were simple and inexpensive, but important. We would agonize over what to get each other and enlist help, and sit barely able to wait our turn to give our gift to our beloved sibling.

I remember years of going to Mass on Christmas morning, and then loading the station wagon, the red van, the blue van, the red and gray van (so many vans) and hoofing it to Monroe for brunch and presents with my mom's family, and from there heading to Dearborn for Christmas with my dad's family. The whole day was a delightful flurry of aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents, car rides listening to Christmas carols, presents, candy... all around magical... for us kids anyway.

Some Christmas gifts really stand out in my memories:

I remember being quite young and participating in the Christmas pageant at my mom's family Christmas. One of the uncles was the donkey, I was Mary, Kathleen was an angel, Collin was Joseph, and my brand new Christmas doll Rachel got to play the baby Jesus. Vivid and important memories. Rachel was the first brand new doll I'd ever gotten and when you turned her over, she cried "waahh." I was thrilled. Coolest toy ever. I still have Rachel. Her hair isn't nice. The original clothes are long gone. The "waaahh" became a faint sqeak only when you punched her stomach, and eventually became complete silence. Her lips are still a faint green from the time my brother and his friends colored them green with a marker. And yet that doll still carries some important memories for me and I can't quite give her up (though I don't attempt to sleep with her anymore).

I remember the year we got our puppy on Christmas- best Christmas ever (I was 9 at the time)! Holly was a black lab mutt (this habit started young). I remember opening the big mysterious box in my grandparent's basement and how excited my dad was. A puppy!! No one had even hinted about a puppy!! Our very own puppy?!?! I remember riding from Grandma's to the other Grandma's passing the dog between the big kids and discussing names. Kathleen wanted to name her Black Beauty. I don't remember what I wanted. And then my dad suggested Holly. Perfect!! So Christmasy and yet the perfect dog name. I loved that pooch from the start and she quickly became "my dog." Oh she was everyone's dog but very much my dog at the same time. I remember my two year old brother Neil spending a lot of time torturing her and eating her food. Those early weeks of potty training, she endeared herself to my poor mom by consistently pooping under the Christmas tree. And as she got a little older, I loved training her. Teaching her to sit, to walk on a leash, to roll over, to stop jumping up. Gosh I loved that dog. She gave me a lot of purpose in life. She was one of the first real "projects" I remember truly investing in and I remember being so proud as she'd learn new tricks and pass important milestones. Holly was such a faithful dog right to the end. The gift that keeps on giving for years and years and years.

And here's a random one: my parents often gave us really useful gifts like towels, pajamas, and socks. I remember the year Kathleen and I got large brand new bath towels. They were light blue striped and matched the wall paper in our room (which had light blue stripes on it). I know it's ridiculous, but I remember those towels vividly and remember hoarding them proudly, keeping them hanging in our bedroom away from the little boys who would use whatever towel was closest when they ran naked out of the tub. Our very own towels!!

Okay, I'll let it go there for now... thanks for walking down memory lane with me. What are some of your favorite Christmas memories?

Moments of Clarity

So... after my incredibly frustrating back thing yesterday and getting nothing else really accomplished, I went to Mass at 4.30. Every step hurts and I'm walking like I'm 90, awesome. I had to run to Joann fabrics for some veil making supplies for this coming week and as I gingerly dragged myself out of the car I had one of those moments of clarity. This is my opportunity to really pray for someone.

A couple years ago I read Pope John Paul II's letter Salvifici Doloris on The Christian Meaning of Human Suffering. Soooooo powerful. One of the main things that stuck with me was that I don’t want to squander my own suffering - ever. It is too valuable. Suffering is such a powerful gift, and a powerful tool for building up the Kingdom and those suffering… And yet, I have to admit, I’m not so good at this whole suffering thing and I usually forget to offer it or do anything except whine about it.

Back to my current situation, there I was in the parking lot of Joann’s having a moment of clarity. I suddenly knew that this was an opportunity for me to really pray for someone I love dearly. I’ve got a prayer list a mile long, but this was so clearly an opportunity to pray for this specific person. Woah.

So… I am attempting to offer up my frustration over a derailed productive weekend and the pain for someone who needs it. And to close, a few words from Blessed John Paul II:

“This is the meaning of suffering, which is truly supernatural and at the same time human. It is supernatural because it is rooted in the divine mystery of the Redemption of the world, and it is likewise deeply human, because in it the person discovers himself, his own humanity, his own dignity, his own mission…

Together with Mary, Mother of Christ, who stood beneath the Cross(103),we pause beside all the crosses of contemporary man. We invoke all the Saints, who down the centuries in a special way shared in the suffering of Christ. We ask them to support us. And we ask all you who suffer to support us. We ask precisely you who are weak to become a source of strength for the Church and humanity. In the terrible battle between the forces of good and evil, revealed to our eyes by our modern world, may your suffering in union with the Cross of Christ be victorious!”

Priorities...

The last year or so, this topic continues to come up in my mind and heart... and the other day this post came up in my blog reader and honestly the title says it all "Scheduling our priorities." It is the perfect reminder to me of something I really strive to do in my own life... I fail at it a lot (clearly) but really want to do better at scheduling my priorities.

Uh oh, personal sharing moment: (This will be more interesting if you pretend you don't know my family). When I was growing up, there were a lot of times I felt just like "one of the crowd" to my mom. My dad was good about spending individual and quality time with each of us, taking one at a time to the weekly hardware store runs, taking turns with who he too with him to work on the house Fridays and Saturdays (for about a decade), and for me, taking me to work with him to answer phones and lick stamps (which turned into a fabulous job that I still miss). What I'm trying to say is that my dad purposely took time to schedule in his kids, his priorities. Or maybe not so much on the scheduling, but he looked for opportunities for quality time.

My mom, on the other hand, spent most of her time with us. She stayed home with us, and even homeschooled all 11 of us (and is only now wrapping up her 30 year career as a homeschool mom). And yet, I never felt like a priority. That isn't to say I wasn't a priority (did I mention the feeding, clothing, raising, and homeschooling 11 children?), it just didn't feel like it. And I think part of this has to do with that whole theme of scheduling your priorities.

My mom is incredible at making room for a person in need-- no matter what the need or who the person. I can't count the number of people that would show up for a cup of tea, or need a hand, or an ear, or a shoulder, a babysitter, a dogsitter, a meal, and my mom would immediately drop whatever else was going on and serve and love that person, right then. And I have to say, I admire that quality and attempt to live it in my own life. And yet it comes with a downside, there is ALWAYS another need. Another person wanting your time. Another distraction. Another thing to get involved with. And we can easily forget to prioritize and just default into constantly reacting to other people's demands, requests, needs. (Yes, you moms out there live this to an incredible degree!)

And since I'm rambling senselessly, I'll go ahead and mention personalities and how that plays into things. I am a "J" on the Myers Briggs scale, 10 to 0. My mom is a "P." J's like things scheduled, planned, confirmed, definite. We are more comfortable having a decision made, even if it is the wrong decision. P's on the other hand, prefer to keep their options open as long as possible- forever if they could. They are more comfortable before a decision is made and resist making committments and decisions in general. Maybe it's partly my J self that felt like I never made it onto my mom's P schedule. Let's be honest, there wasn't much of a schedule most of the time (is it any wonder I'm an extreme J?)...

And then I look long and hard at my own life: How often do I wait to hear from people instead of making a phone call? How often do I schedule in the people I love most? Why is it months between visits with a good friend who lives only a few minutes away?

I don't have the answer. I do try to schedule in time with friends, family, munchkins, dogs, home projects... and clearly I am far from that ever elusive balance... but I also know I can do some concrete things to schedule my priorities and just simply reexamine them. Am I living the life I want to? Or am I defaulting into something else because my priorities aren't clear (and still can't say no)? Am I actually scheduling my priorities?

Randomly

Crazy things I think about a lot lately (in no particular order):
1. Backyard chickens. I have the coop, it only needs a couple repairs / alterations and any day now I might break down and try it.
2. Home cooking for the dogs. Not because I'm one of those dog people-- but because Suzie's allergies are so bad all the time and I feel I should try something!
3. Sheep. I desperately want sheep. And goats. And these adorable mini-milk cows. Spring makes me want sheep even more than usual. Lots of farm dreaming going on around here.
4. Ireland. I want to go back there one of these days. I actually want to live there, farming my sheep right up to the cliffs that go down to the ocean. Gosh I love Ireland.
5. Road tripping west again. So many friends, so many new babies to see, so much time on the road and away from the reality of my life. It won't happen anytime soon, but I'm thinking about it.
6. Projects. Lots and lots of projects to catch up on. Will probably never actually catch up, but it's nice to dream.
7. Prince Charming. Or my equivalent. How long does a girl have to wait??? Sometimes it just doesn't seem fair. And seriously, how does one meet guys when all they do is work and try to catch up on their life and hang out with awesome friends who are all married with kids? It's complicated.
8. Family. Family has been on my mind a lot. My family. The people I love dearest. The ones close by who I never see. The ones far away who I never see. Must spend more time with my family. And say a prayer for my Grandma who is in the hospital with pnemonia.
9. Flowers. I do love flowers. The irises are starting to bloom. The rose bushes are covered with buds. The lilacs are blooming and more on the way. Flowers brighten my life.
10. Patriotism. All the American flags are out. We celebrate Memorial Day this weekend and all the men and women who have given their lives for our freedom. Thanks to each and every one of you, we value your sacrifice, your gift, your patriotism.

Embracing our inner selves

The dogs and I took a delightful walk on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. I love to drive out about 10 minutes from town onto the dirt roads and we walk there, surrounded by farms, nature, and beauty. Truly music to my wanna-be-farmer soul.

Suzie is a lab mutt. We don't actually know what breeds she is-- but she is black and resembles a lab (though much smaller than your average black lab). I suspect she may have some terrier or other sporting dog as well, but no one actually knows her exact lineage. In the past, Suzie has enthusiastically gone puddle plopping only when she's really hot (usually when we're in the middle of a hot bike ride). Then I introduced that kiddie pool (aka the puppy puddle) last summer, which got a lot of use from both the visiting munchkins and Suzie.

Suddenly, on a similar country roads walk a few weeks ago, it's like it all clicked and Suzie fully embraced her inner lab like never before. Every single puddle we passed was tromped through, plopped in, laid in, lapped up. This was one happy lab. Today was no different: every single puddle and roadside swamp and flooded field and mucky ditch was thoroughly enjoyed. It's like this irresistible pull now that she's discovered and embraced the lab within. (Thankfully today I had the backseat of the car covered unlike last time).

Maggie, on the other hand, does not embrace her inner lab. She is also a lab mutt but I suspect there is a lot of shepherd in her. She only plops into a puddle when it is really, really hot or she's really winded from a bike ride. She spent the walk mostly walking down the center of the road, occasionally walking daintily into a puddle, up to the top of her legs, taking a few drinks, and then calmly walking back out. She barely gives the time of day to her inner lab, it is probably too risky for her- what if embracing her inner lab made her more friendly (gasp!). At least Maggie resisting her inner lab makes for a much drier and cleaner dog at the end of the walk.

And me? This week, I am determined to embrace my inner human. I am trying to set realistic expectations for myself and draw reasonable limits. This is big for me. I actually think it might be easier for me to embrace my inner lab, diving into large puddles and getting muddy. Instead, I am consciously embracing my inner human, fraught with human frailty, limitations, and sin, and allowing the One who can lift us higher to do the rest. Come Lord Jesus!

Help?

A few days ago I was pondering hanging on to hope. The choice to be happy, to be thankful. The choices we do have. And it's been on my mind that I should add something to that discussion. There are times in life when we cannot make the choice without help. Sometimes it means help from friends and family. Sometimes it means help from professionals. I have close friends who have gone through difficult times and needed some extra help to get balanced, to choose to be happy, to face another day. Heck, I probably should have should have been on them in high school to help me balance out through some of my own really dark years.

Here's my take on that: Do not fear! I don't think anti-depressants are always the answer. But I know that sometimes they are the answer or at least a critical part of the answer. It saddens me that sometimes they are seen as the bad guy, or that somehow needing them is something to be ashamed of. Instead I see it as a courageous option. Taking that step to ask for help because you can't do it on your own. Calling in the big guns: the counselor, the zoloft, the prozac, etc.

Thanks to the friends in my life who have shared the struggle, who really are the silent heroes, taking that important step for their own sanity and for the ones they love. Sometimes it is just for a season, other times it is longer. But I have seen it make a huge difference and really change their quality of life. There you have it.

Hang on to hope. But if you can't, or if you're barely hanging on, don't be afraid to call in the big guns.

Hanging on to hope

I've been thinking a lot about priorities and life choices and free will and all the minute by minute decisions we make throughout our lives that lead us down one path or another.

There have been many seasons in my life I have had people around me that seem to be wallowing in misery. I know what that's like, I've been there, done that. Could easily be there again right now, in fact, if I let myself. And yet I always come back to the idea that life is too short to waste it being miserable. Not to say that we aren't all going to suffer, in big and small ways. But life is entirely too short to not choose to be happy. It's too short not to look for the things that we can be grateful for, the abundance of blessings poured out.

I certainly know what it is like to pray and pray and pray for something and not see it happen. I know what it's like to feel like your dreams are being pulled out of your grasp. And yet, again and again I come back to needing to hang on to hope. Hope of heaven. Hope that we're here for something bigger than ourselves and our own limited dreams, our own limited understanding. Hope that we have a Father who has us right where we need to be for our sanctification and happiness. Sometimes that hanging on is sort of easy, a loose grip on something, and other days I feel like I am hanging on white-knuckled for dear life, hoping for relief before I can't hang on any more.

I think about John 6:67-68: "So Jesus said to the twelve, "You do not want to go away also, do you?" Simon Peter answered Him, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have words of eternal life."

Lord, may we cling to the words of eternal life. May we cling to you in the midst of the storm. May we always hang on to hope in Your great love and accept the joy and peace that passes all the circumstances.

Words can't express it

It is always SO difficult to put into words what happens on a silent retreat. People ask "How was it? What did you do?" And I never know what to say. It was great, always is. What did I do? Maybe the right question is, "What didn't you do?"
I didn't think about work, dream about work. Or work.
I didn't talk (well except those two little exceptions).
I didn't run around like a chicken with my head cut off trying to accomplish things.
I didn't drive anywhere.
I didn't listen to music, the news, the phone ringing, the tv blaring.
I didn't cook, clean, repair.
I didn't.

I didn't do any of my normal things. I was. I sat. I slept. I prayed. I chanted the psalms with the monks. I meditated. I visited spring in KY. I hiked in the woods and pondered the beauty around me. I asked God a lot of questions that He didn't necessarily answer. I sat at His feet. I waited.

It was great. If a silent retreat isn't part of your life, it should be. It is truly an amazing time of grace. And if you're within 6-8 hours of it, I highly recommend the Abbey of Gethsemani. Otherwise, find somewhere closer to you... just do it!! Even if it is just a day.

I should also mention how FABULOUS it is to visit spring that isa month ahead of our own spring. It is sooooo refreshing. The daffodils were blooming and it was sunny and warm and altogether wonderful.

This year was no different -- I leave inspired to take time for more silence in my every day life. I don't exactly know how to make it happen, I just know I should make it happen. And I'm already counting the days to next year's retreat...

Are you a manicure pedicure kind of gal?

For some reason today I am contemplating the extravagances of spa day yesterday. The massage was completely worth it. It wasn't the best massage I've ever had, but I'm pretty sure every massage I've ever gotten has been worth it.

But the manicure and pedicure? Let me start by saying I do not consider myself a girlie girl. Bright colored nail polish on my finger nails always distracts and annoys me. I rarely wear any nail polish on my finger nails, actually, and feel fine about it. My feet never look nice. In the summer I paint the toenails and in the winter I simply hide under layers of socks and slippers. In my life, I have had exactly 3 manicures and 2 pedicures (and that includes the ones yesterday). While I enjoyed the experience yesterday and while my feet and hands do look and feel better, I do not think I am a regular mani/pedi kind of gal. Maybe partly because I am so cheap. Or because I really just don't care enough. It strikes me that I basically paid some nicely made up woman to slough dead skin off my feet and trim my unsightly cuticles. Really?

So... my final thoughts on the matter are this:
1) It was a blast to spend the day with my housemates,
2) It was certainly fun to do something unnecessary and a little extravagant (especially this time of year)
3) I need more massages in my life, and
4) Next time I will slough off my own dead skin, paint the toenails, and call it a night.

The Three "T"s

Sometimes I feel like the past couple years has been a progression of one step forward, two steps back. Constantly. And I cannot seem to catch up, because let's face it, the last two years have been full of the big "T"... Transition.

This week's transition is brought to you by (drum roll please) ... A NEW JOB! That's right folks. Since it's been almost exactly a year since my last job transition, I thought we should do it again. Well, not really. But my current job, though I am working for an organization very near and dear to my heart, has been rough. Just not a good fit for me. Feels like it is sucking the life out of me. For 11.5 months now. I think I have served the parish well, done some important work, and am happy to be handing it on to the next person. It is Time (another great T word). Time for Transition.

I started job hunting seriously a couple months again, deciding it was time to expand my search beyond my home state. Certainly not hoping to have to leave... but feeling like it was just Time and if that meant moving out of state, so be it. So the last couple months have been me going back to the job search front in the evenings. Writing cover letters. Lots of online applications that seem to go out into the great big void. And then in one week two local opportunities, both referred by friends. Then the inevitable waiting... One call. Could I come in that Tuesday. YES!! I'll be honest, the friend that referred me said he was working with them and that they needed ME. Not just someone, Me. Well, the job description was vague, so I wasn't terribly hopeful but thought it was worth a shot. I told Jesus on my way in that it was all His. Make the way clear.

And then I interviewed... and it has never been so clear to me that they needed ME. Not just some generic office manager, but me!! Woah. Afraid to be too hopeful, and knowing they were interviewing 8 of us that day, I just prayed and held my breath and honestly, got pretty excited. And the next day I got the call asking me back for round 2 (with only 1 or 2 others). Eeeeek. I interviewed again Thursday afternoon, and again, connected soooo well, loved the guys I interviewed with, and felt like this was the job made for me.

I told Jesus on my way out of that interview, "Lord, if they offer me this job, I am taking it. So if you have another plan, this is your moment." Another long day of waiting, and then I got the message. They would love to have me join the team!! Woo hoo!! And here it comes, the third "T"... THANKFUL.

I am a little overwhelmed looking at the amount of transition looming in front of me... trying to wrap up and hand off my current job, starting the new job, not to mention the holidays, already being behind on life, etc. But I am overwhelmed with a sense of profound gratitude at God's provision for me. I have felt really stuck and kind of abandoned where I'm at, and sometimes I have prayed for specific things and the answer has been "No." Which can be really hard to hear and accept. But I am reminded that all of it is part of God's plan for me. Plans for good and not for evil, plans to give me hope and a future. I am thankful for the time I had here, for the struggles that made me grow in ways I certainly wasn't planning for, and for the opportunity to work with a lot of amazing people.

And I am THANKFUL to be moving forward. To be starting a job that seems like a great fit. To continue to grow and learn and serve. I am grateful for a Father that loves me and provides so perfectly for me. And did I mention how thankful I am to be remaining in southeast Michigan? That I don't have to sell my house and move across the country? That I get to stay in my home, drive 20 minutes to work, stay part of a parish I love, stay near many family and friends... Woo hoo!! God is so good!

PS. If I drop off the planet for the next 6 weeks, at least now you know why. But don't worry, once I'm through the exhausting transition period, I'll be back and ready to re-enter society, hopefully more functional than before even :D

More perspective from my desk...

An older man I don't know walked in and greeted me with a kind smile. "When they have a funeral here, is there a place to have a luncheon?"

I told him that we have a gym at the far end of this building where we hold funeral lunches, there's a warming kitchen, tables, blah blah blah. Pretty short and sweet. Since we had a funeral there Monday and another one scheduled for Thursday, I thought maybe he was connected with the Thursday funeral. So I asked if he was planning a funeral, and he said very peacefully and sort of matter of factly. "Yeah, mine."

I'm sure my eyebrows shot up involuntarily. He continued, "This cancer I've got, they've only given me a month or so to live. I want to make sure there's a place for the family to have a nice luncheon once I'm gone." He smiled and told me to have a great day and headed toward the door. I said I would be praying for him. He smiled and thanked me and walked out the door.

Perspective.

Job

It has been a Job sort of season in my life. And handily enough, right now we are reading Job in the daily Mass readings-- so very fitting to what is going on in my life right now. I have been complaining to God and asking Him a lot of "why Lord?" And then I look at Job's life, at the amazing gifts he had received, and how devastating it was when it was all taken away, and I am inspired by his response in the midst of terrible devastation: "The Lord has given, and the Lord has taken away, Blessed be the name of the Lord."  May I learn to respond like Job.

Today's reading is so filled with hope - so I thought I'd share:

Jb 42:1-3, 5-6, 12-17


Job answered the LORD and said:
I know that you can do all things,
and that no purpose of yours can be hindered.
I have dealt with great things that I do not understand;
things too wonderful for me, which I cannot know.
I had heard of you by word of mouth,
but now my eye has seen you.
Therefore I disown what I have said,
and repent in dust and ashes.

Thus the LORD blessed the latter days of Job
more than his earlier ones.
For he had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels,
a thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand she-asses.
And he had seven sons and three daughters,
of whom he called the first Jemimah,
the second Keziah, and the third Kerenhappuch.
In all the land no other women were as beautiful
as the daughters of Job;
and their father gave them an inheritance
along with their brothers.
After this, Job lived a hundred and forty years;
and he saw his children, his grandchildren,
and even his great-grandchildren.
Then Job died, old and full of years.

Reflecting

I always get a little reflective around my birthday. What has happened in the last year? What does the next year hold? How am I this old already? (I swear I don't feel a day over 25) What is God doing in my life? (the eternal question).

When I look back, my initial thought is this: 30 was a rough year from start to finish. Lots of challenges large and small, but most notably (or what immediately comes to mind):
--I lost a job I loved a month after turning 30. More job hunting. Took a job that is a challenge-- and continues to be a challenge for me. Not a challenge in terms of content, but basically everything else. Clearly an opportunity to grow in holiness...
--I lost an ovary. Nothing like a medical crisis (my first ever) to throw things out of whack and give you some extra perspective... and set you back months on the to do lists.
--I lost a sister and her family to a far away state. It is hard saying good bye, even when it is the right thing. Thank God for employment and His guiding... but why is it SO far?

And yet, there are a lot of blessings mixed in (way too many to list):
-- two fantastic housemates
-- insurance to help pay for the above medical crisis and a fabulous doctor to walk me through it (thanks to that oh so challenging job).
--amazing friends and family
--a new Godson, Davy boy
--new babies
--a big kitchen project (also be one of the challenges of the year)
--grace in abundance from a Father who loves me
--time with my grandparents

So I end up looking back on a very full year... a good year, a hard year, and ultimately a year I will never have to repeat. God is faithful. May I decrease as He increases in me.

The reality I want to avoid...

My brother in law got a fabulous job across the country. Everything has fallen into place, every last detail, God clearly paved the way for all of this. In fact, when I first heard of the opportunity, I knew in my heart that he would get the job, and they would go. I had no idea the details would end up being so clear... or the blessings so abundant... but I knew. And tonight, suddenly, it seems very real. Five people that I love very dearly are moving a lot of states away (I refuse to even count how many states right now). And I couldn't be happier for the blessing on their family, that God is so faithful in all things, and for this awesome job... and I couldn't be sadder at the loss for all of us, for me!! Waahhhhh!!! Take me with you!

Don't worry, I will continue to work on my brave front. I will not bursting into tears every time I even think about it (though it will happen sometimes). I know this is the right thing, that God has a plan. But "loss is loss and grief is grief" (to quote a favorite author)... and there's no way around it, this is really tough. And it is coming up really fast.

Hospital Goers

We are not a hospital-prone family. In fact, I think I can count on one hand the number of times family members have been to the ER. Keep in mind I have 8 brothers and 2 sisters. We grew up in the country, on a construction site, using large machinery and a lot of power tools. And some of those brothers do crazy things some times. But we are not hospital people in general. People get bumped and bruised, but people don't break bones and need the hospital. Let's see, from what I remember, Fiona got her finger slammed in the door so the tip came off at age 2- trip to the hospital, repair the finger, pink cast. Brendan cracked his wrist in middle school, hospital, cast. Garrett broke his leg at camp in middle school, hospital, cast. I think that's about it on the major stuff. And then in the last few weeks, with my whole ovarian cyst saga, and I was in the ER twice before surgery, then major surgery, and then a couple days recovery in the hospital. That's more hospital than most of our combined history (babies being born excluded from this total).

And then there was Monday... it started as a normal (post-surgery) day. I woke up, made coffee, sat down to work on the couch with my laptop. My dad brought me Communion and stayed to visit awhile. And then my mom called to say she'd penned up her free range chickens (that my dogs like to eat) and would I like to come for a visit. Um okay. I wasn't planning on it, but it does sound like a good idea, and the dogs do really wear out when they are there. So eventually I told the pups we were headed for Grandma's (an announcement that sends them into dancing, howling, leaping pleasure) and we set off.

I pulled in to find Owen at the end of the driveway, it took a few minutes to understand what was going on, but he was waiting for the ambulance, Mama fell. I raced up there. Mama was laying on the last couple steps at the bottom of these outside concrete steps. Lisa, our neighbor, was with her. There was blood pooled on the steps above. Woah, this is serious!! I remember thinking the pools of blood should gross me out more, but I had apparently switched into Emergency Mode (which I am quite good at). Lisa had been there gardening with my mom, and suddenly my mom had lost her footing or something and tumbled down about 8 steep concrete steps and had passed out. Lisa ran in to get the phone and said my mom was conscious again by the time she got back out. Well, that's something.

In Emergency Mode, I realized there are now 4 dogs outside running around- including my parent's dog Rocky, who is a great watch dog, and thus not a great ambulance-is-on-the-way dog. I got my two and Rocky into the house, while Lisa grabbed Gus (the little rat dog) and threw him into the house. Of course Rocky managed to bolt out the door again to greet the ambulance, but we finally got him contained. The ambulance arrived, I led the EMT to my mom, explaining she'd been unconscious for only about 2 minutes but had clearly lost some blood and hadn't moved. They started working on her, bandaging her bleeding head, checking vitals, and figuring out how to move her. As they sat her up, she started vomiting. Not good. The firefighters arrived and the four of them strapped her to a backer board and got her to the ambulance. Everyone said commented how the kid at the end of the driveway was the best- pointing them in the right direction. Yay Owen!

My dad had left work, but once I was there I called him and he went right to the hospital to meet us there. I grabbed my purse and got to ride in the ambulance, lights and sirens the whole way. And that's when I was thinking that we really aren't hospital people. We don't really do this. In fact, we've never even had an ambulance out to the house before. And we've lived there for over 20 years. Hmmm.

As we drove, I asked about her blood pressure, if it had bottomed out because of the blood loss. Nope. Instead it was really really high. Their concern was bleeding in the brain with blood pressure that high. Not good at all. My dad was standing at the ambulance bay when we arrived and we were able to be in the room with her. As usual, being in the ER means a lot of hurry up and wait. The blood pressure was a major concern (it was really really high when we got there) as was checking for broken bones and internal bleeding. It looked like the gash all the way across the forehead was the cause of all the bleeding. After hours of waiting and tests and more vomiting... the CAT scans showed no fractures and no internal bleeding- praise Jesus!! More waiting, trying to get her to stop vomiting and comfortable, and yet more waiting. It turns out she is very bruised and sore, as you'd expect. And has a concussion, as you'd expect. And has stitches across her forehead, as the gash required. But they got the pain and blood pressure to a normal place and sent her home late that night.

You know you've been in the ER too much when you recognize the people there, that cute tech with the tattoo, the check in girl, a few nurses. And I'm pretty sure that in the last couple weeks we have now fulfilled our Cous's at the hospital quota for the next several years.

And coming through something like that just leaves me incredibly thankful. My mom could have landed wrong and died. Something could have gone horribly wrong. She could have been alone. There are so many "what ifs." But God sent the right people to be with her. And protected her fall. And continues to be faithful in all things. And maybe she'll finally recover from her bout of pneumonia now that she's required to take it easy again.

I am blessed

I've started a post several times but never know quite what to say. Here we are, a week post-surgery, and I'm still not entirely sure what to say. Rather than recount the gorey details of my surgery last week and the ongoing recovery, I thought I'd give you a glimpse of how blessed I am.

I was in the hospital from Weds at 11 am, surgery at 1, and through recovery (a traumatic experience until the epidural) and finally in a room shortly after 6. My parents were waiting for me there, with another friend (who is a nurse at St. Joe's and will marry my cousin later this summer). My dad brought me Communion. They stayed awhile to visit, joined by others later in the evening... In fact, my entire time there was a rotation of people coming to visit-- I really think it was probably the best hospital stay ever!! (Especially while the epidural was in and the pain was under control). I got some funny looks from the nurses, who I am sure wondered how it was possible every time they came into the room to see different people there. I received chocolate, games, oreos, flowers, cards, artwork from munchkins, hugs and kisses, prayers, phone calls, and people who just kept me entertained while I was stuck there in bed. I just kept thinking how blessed I am with a terrific family and terrific friends who take such good care of me!

I went home Friday afternoon and my at-home recovery has been very similar. The narcotics and pain killers have not been very effective, which is kind of a let down, but they do take the edge off the pain. In the last week I've spent more time sitting still than maybe ever before in my life. Weird. But once again, the time has been filled with visitors, phone calls, digital scrapbooking, working from home, pretending to pay attention to movies, and blessings. I am itching to get up and do a lot of stuff, but the pain has kept me in check (perhaps a blessing in disguise). Yesterday was the first day I could detect the pain was a little less and progress in any form is very encouraging. I can't even begin to express just how well people are taking care of me- Communion every day, dinners, house cleaning, entertainment, visitors, all of it. I am so blessed.

Although this is clearly not how I intended to spend the month of June, I am blessed and thankful. I'm happy to be on this end of the surgery, the worst behind me, and on the upswing. God is good.