Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Lessons from Mom and Dad

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #34

As I spend time with my parents, I have tried to focus on what they can do, can remember, and can impart.

So, I’ve jotted a few simple, timeless lessons:

Mom: Feed the birds.

Dad: After everyone puts their dishes in the dishwasher, rearrange them because they did it wrong.

Mom: Always wear an apron when cooking.

Dad: Keep moving, there is always something to do.

Mom: No laundry on Sunday.

Dad: Make sure you have enough wood for the winter.

Mom: Make photo albums.

Dad: Call friends to check on them, before they are in the obit section of the paper.

Mom: Fold sheets as you take them off the clothesline.

Dad: Clean and put your tools away after every use.

Mom: Get an education…no one can take it away from you.

Dad: Fix things yourself, at least try.

Mom: Arrive early to church.

Dad: Start shaving when it’s time to leave for church.

Mom: Talk to your plants, they’ll listen.

Dad: Throw seeds anywhere; if they want to grow, they will.

What I learned:

Change is inevitable.

Each time I come to see Mom and Dad, they wake up a little later, move a little slower, and forget a little more. But there are those moments when I feel like Mom knows I’m her youngest daughter and just maybe remembers all of the piano lessons she drove me to, the tortillas we made together, or the nights she stayed up helping me type school papers.

Then there were the yards of fabric we cut to make dresses with ruffles, duffle bags with multiple zippers, terry cloth shorts with edging, and blouses with horrifying button holes.

Maybe they both remember galavanting around Mexico City, or visiting me in DC when I thought I was cool and business-like, or walking me down the aisle and helping me figure out how to be a mom. “Babies need a schedule,” Mom said. So I wrote it all down, timed naps and meals, and couldn’t imagine not having a system.

As always, I’ll hold on to the lessons and the moments with them forever.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

🙂 Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Security Lines

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #33

Yesterday morning, I arrived at Atlanta Hartsfield-Jackson Airport at 3:15. The security lines were already hundreds deep. People were tired. Airport employees were tired.

A small man with a walkie-talkie and a smile was in charge of my section of the line. He shuffled us through. “Ten people can go to the next section.” He said. We walked forward and waited. Given the four to six-hour wait times people experienced over the last week, the kind woman behind me and I immediately made a pact that if either of us needed the bathroom, we would hold each other’s place.

The airport employees were calm, patient, and unwavered by the complaints of the angry passengers trying to scoot to the front of a line, “I’m sorry, the end of the line is this way, sir. Not here.” And they were honest with the panicking passengers. “I’m sorry, I can’t help with changing your flight.”

Like a grocery line in Kroger, my bathroom buddy and I repeatedly noticed how we chose the wrong line as we watched the people who arrived with us move forward quickly, and we split off again.

Here’s what I noticed during my three-hour wait:

Stories were shared: Conversationally, I start on second base with most people anyway, so finding connections with the people around me was quick.

People commiserated: the shared experience of being in one place with little control over their situation was humbling.

Kids stayed home: parents were smart.

Books were read: When will we ever get three hours to just read?

Empathy for the TSA agents not getting paid was present: I heard several people say things like: “I couldn’t imagine coming to work and not getting paid.” Or, “How frustrating to stand by a person (ICE agent) who IS getting paid and they are not.”

Stress and overheating: Two people passed out – they were okay.

There was self-medicating:

Dogs make everything better: I sat on the plane with a veteran with a service dog. The sweet eyes and soft ears made my day 100% better.

What I learned:

One man should not control people’s lives.

I’ve heard “This too will pass.” But when? How many wars? How many lost jobs? And lives?

So, I pray. And pray and then say one more prayer. Then I thank God for dogs. They are the only logical ones left.

Thanks for joining me,

I’m so glad you’re here.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Why you should choose the middle seat on the plane…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Throwback Thursday: Originally posted March 11, 2022

Lenten Reflections #32

16E – I recently bought a plane ticket, and when choosing my seat I was reminded the aisle and window seats cost more. Coming from a long line of thriftiness, I chose the middle seat. No extra fee. 

I slipped into my spot on the Delta flight and began observing the characters of the day. The gentleman in the aisle seat next to me (16D) who had quick access to the lavatory was dressed in denim and had a novel stuffed in the seat pocket in front of him. If our intellectual abilities were judged by the girth of the books we read, this guy would be in the genius realm. Personally, I’m still working on finishing this month’s 1/8 inch thick Reader’s Digest.

To the right was my window neighbor (16F) who noticed my inability to juggle coffee, a bag of tortillas, and a backpack, and asked if I would like to use his tray table to place my coffee. Kindness in action. I thanked him. Turns out he is one of the marvels in the world that can fall asleep as soon as the plane engines roar. His head flopped down then shot up several times the way it does when we ask our bodies to sleep vertically. In a matter of minutes, he settled into a deep slumber.

Once we bounced through the mountains and up to cruising altitude, I began writing. I noticed the aisle guy had a nasty cut on his hand, so I rifled through my wallet for a Bandaid (dad said always carry one in your wallet) and offered it to him. He thanked me and as he peeled the plastic pieces off each side of the adhesive, he told me he works with stone which causes a lot of small lesions. I closed my computer and seized the opportunity to tap into his story.

The Sculptor

En route from Santa Fe to Atlanta, New York, and finally Italy, he told me of his life as a sculptor. After high school, he spent time in Ohio, Berkely, then lived in Carrara, Italy where he learned to speak Italian.

He told me he carves mellifluous (smooth and soothing – I had to look it up) musical compositions into hard stone finding the balance and tensions of negative and positive space as he chisels away. He recently finished a piece that started out as 5,000 pounds of stone and after carving and creating ended in 1,500 pounds of beauty. It took him three months, 5-6 hours per day. He then chooses one of his galleries to place it in to sell and hopes someone who understands and appreciates his work will purchase it.

He has his art in studios from San Francisco to Aspen and quarries most of his stone in Italy. He then ships thousands of pounds of stone to his studio in Santa Fe and completes the work at his studio.

Tell me more

We talked about unnecessary stress when working as an artist and parent, current events in Ukraine, happy childhood moments with siblings, and difficult times we’d rather forget.

I told him about my kids and each of their talents. I mentioned my son with the 3-D mind as noted by an engineering professor. “You either have it or you don’t. Your son does.” I asked how he knew he wanted to sculpt. He said he was like my son. One day his dad pulled him aside when he was young and said, “You have a 3-D mind and you will not be happy if you don’t do something with your hands when you grow up. Don’t tell your mother I told you.”

It was a pleasure sitting with my new friend, hands covered in sculpting scars and the soft, gruff voice of a well-read artist. As we parted ways under the bright lights of gate B27 inside the terminal, I wished him a nice journey in Spanish and he responded with the same in Italian.

I teetered off toward baggage claim balancing a duffle bag, backpack, and the same bag of tortillas. I then heard my kind window neighbor (16F) ask if he could help me carry my things to baggage claim. I declined, thanking him again for his compassion, and headed straight to the restroom. I love the middle seat, I do, but it is way too far from the bathroom.

Why choose the middle seat? Save money, gain two new friends.

Please pray for Ukraine.

Thank you for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Santa and God go fishing

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #31

I was walking with bright eyed, Claire today, golden curls falling in her face, cheeks flush from playing outside. We passed by the garden and she picked anything green and gave it a trial taste. “Mmm, mint!” She shrieked. We then both tried a very bitter lettuce and and immediately spit it out, moving on. She ripped a few of the chicory-type lettuce into small pieces and carefully placed them inside the “bowl” of a bright red tulip. It looked like a pricey salad at a steakhouse served inside the delicate petals.

Looking very satisfied with her garden art, she exhaled and said, “Pretty”.

As we walked back to the playground, she passed a small white painted rock with pink swirls on top amid the tulips. “I really like this rock.” She said cradling it like a small kitten. “It’s so pretty”.

“It sure is.” I said hastily trying to keep her moving to our destination.

“Time to go” I said.

“One sec.” she said. I really want this rock.”

“Well…” I told her someone placed it in that special spot and would be back looking for it. “And just in case, we should leave it right where it was.”

With a lot of hesitation, she tiptoed back and she set it in the soil.

Not even five steps away from that small stone and she stopped abruptly.

“Wait!” She looked at me and then up at the sky.

“Señora Lucretia! It was God!”

She quickly walked back to the rock like a long-time friend, picked it up and said,

“God sent this rock down for me and my sister to share! I HAVE to take this rock! It’s the sister rock!!!!”

“God?” I questioned.

“Oh ya, it was God. He wants us to have it. The Claire sisters.”

I jumped in…

“Well, it was probably God, that sent it, but maybe we should leave it here and check on it tomorrow.”

She turned around, rock in hand, and gave it a toss back into the tulip patch.

She walked a little further, running her hand over a patch of reeds.

“Señora, it wasn’t God.” She confessed.

I nodded. “Not God?”

“It was Santa. He left the rock.”

“Santa?”

Riveted, I asked if they knew each other, these two rock delivery guys…God and Santa.

“Yes! God and Santa DO know each other!” She was out of breath from the utter excitement of talking about God and Santa at the same time…something reserved exclusively for December.

“They like to pick leaves together.” She said.

She went on, “But they really like to go fishing together.”

“That sounds nice.” I said.

Our walk continued and we eventually made it to the playground, which to imaginative, joyful and creative minds like Claires, isn’t just a playground, it is a palette for pure magic.

What I learned:

Walk with anyone under five. At their pace. Look high, look low, look outside and most importantly, look inside your heart and listen to their magical words.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Like Thomas, I doubt

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

There’s a moment every week at church when I doubt the whole thing. I mean all of it. I’m right there in front of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, thinking my doubty thoughts and trying to make sense of it. Eve eating that darn apple, the massive fish swallowing Jonah, seas parting, and the all-you-can-eat buffet of loaves and fishes. I look up at Mary, kneel, and pray for my life here that I know, this is real. On the long escalators moving slowly toward Heaven and Hell, I see myself terrified, and unsure, like when I get on I-75…the unknowing wonder of traffic or delays or rerouting.

I say all of this a little worried God is taking notes, writing my name on a chart under the heading DOUBTERS: my name sitting under Thomas’.

Then I hope and see things like dandelions peeking through sidewalk cracks, cranes landing on their little skinny legs, or hundreds of bees pollinating an apricot tree. Or I hear Vivaldi’s Four Seasons playing and the hysterical laughter of kids after one of them says, “Orange you glad I didn’t say banana”?

This is me “Seeking the Lord”. This is my evidence that God IS everywhere, in goodness, and service, and in beauty, laughter, and love. Maybe God is like butterflies in springtime, flitting gently by…grateful for flowers and generous with joy.

This past week at church…

I stared at the altar, questioning again, but perhaps worried and scared of dying someday more than anything else. As I looked at the cloth draped over that altar, I pictured an elderly mom like mine ironing it, her own service to God.

The Chalice shone as Father Paul lifted it way above his head like he was stretching his arms before a swim. He held his gaze as if waiting for God to blink. Then I saw it. The joy in his face. It was as if he were the luckiest guy to be able to pray and preach and perform this merciful mystery every day with us.

I know he truly believes it because one day, when talking about the Sacraments at Mass, he said, “See, I can’t get married and have kids, but you guys can’t become priests.” The congregation let out an audible chuckle, and he said it again, “No, I’m serious”. Silence fell. I stood in awe and thought, yup, this guy is right where he needs to be, my doubts declined.

What I learned

I think we all doubt. Maybe only on our worst days, when we’ve told our Mom with Dementia “Today is Saturday” 389 times, or feel like a terrible mom because you said too much, or didn’t stop scrolling to listen. Or you wonder if you should call the vet because she’s old, and even though she wags, barks, and eats, life is dwindling inside her.

Then I hope. I hope it’s all there. Heaven. I hope there are great trails to run on and warm brownies at the finish line. I hope we all know each other and make time for coffee. I hope, I hope, I hope.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

One thing Mom remembers…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #29

Prayers.

At my parent’s home, we go to church on Saturday evenings. It’s the one time of the week, for me, when Mom and Dad are completely one. They sit on the blanket we place on the pine pew every week, hold hands, rest their feet on the red leathery plastic kneeler and pray with reverence and confidence. They know the words, when to kneel, stand, shake hands, receive communion, and (just mom) plug her ears when the music is “too loud” or when the musicians are “playing between the notes”.

The routine is something they’ve been doing all their lives. They’ve spent thousands of hours inside churches, looking up at Jesus and Mary stare down at them. They’ve baptized children, went to First Communions, Confirmations, Weddings, and lately way too many Funerals.

The comforting sameness of it all is like the baseball cap Dad pulls on every day that says “Calibra” on the front or the delft blue and white coffee cup Mom reaches for every morning. The fit is predictable and familiar.

I remember back in 2010, when several parts of the mass responses and prayers changed. The new word patterns were like memorizing the ABC’s starting with Q. Prayers were longer, Latin words returned, and the word “consubstantial” crept into the Nicene Creed as we googled its meaning.

My generation whined.

Mom and Dad were all in. In their heads, church was church: read the Gospel, say your prayers, show up.

I guess change came easier for them when God was at the helm. Even as their daughters had varying (and strong) viewpoints on hot topics like abortion, female priests or “the ridiculously right-winged sermon the priest gave last Saturday”, they respected our perspectives.

Starting this year in the Archdiocese of Atlanta, another change is upon us:

The age for the sacrament of Confirmation will be changing from 10th grade (15-16 years old) to 6th grade (11-12 years old). Due to the challenges most tweens and teens face these days, the church is hoping an earlier Confirmation date will keep kids in church and bring the whole family closer to God.

The other thought, conversly, is that of my friend who stated after the announcement at church: “Looks like we won’t be seeing many teenagers at church anymore.” I tend to agree, yet pray the change is one that will keep our youth as faithful as my 87 and 90-year old parents.

What I learned:

Change is our only constant.

Prayer remembers who we are and were, even if we don’t.

Thank you for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

1st World Problems? Here are mine

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #28

We all have them. These things we call problems. Many are so real and awful – depression or anxiety, bad hearts, poor mental health or God forbid, cancer. These are the things that give us pause and make us realize how irrational our little issues are.

These first-world problems creep in and hijack our days with “horrible” things like the the Wifi being too slow, or the gym is too busy. Maybe we have too many clothes and not enough hangers, or it’s way too hard to reach what’s in the back of the fridge because there’s so much food up front. The frustration is real, but so is the irrationality of it all.

I thought I’d share my latest 1st World problems with you:

1st World Problem #1 – I forgot to do Wordle

Midnight struck, and I sighed deeply. Darn it, Wordle. I missed you again.

I almost complained, but didn’t because, well, it’s Wordle.

1st World Problem #2 – My computer isn’t working

My computer had crazy, dizzying lines going up and down the screen a few days ago. After unsuccessfully troubleshooting, I adjusted my eyes and continued working. Today I opened it and a black screen stared back at me. It had had enough.

I almost complained, but then thought -I have a computer, and the means to fix it, what a luxury.

1st World Problem #3 – Woke up late

I woke up disappointed I didn’t get up earlier, and may or may not have blamed it on my dear husband, who was up early reading. Of course, it was my fault, but it’s so much easier to blame the ones we love the most.

I almost complained (more), but thought, gee whiz, I was lucky enough to wake up and I have a husband who understands me enough to know I’m a little nuts.

1st World Problem #4 – long security lines at the airport

I’ll be traveling soon to take care of my parents, and as we know, the lines for security are longer than those for Space Mountain, so I was planning my arrival time to be about four hours before the flight, which is a lot of time to wait.

I almost complained, but then I thought of all the TSA workers who are NOT getting paid, not one cent. YET they still show up. Also! Also, how lucky am I that my parents are still around to visit and care for?

1st World Problem #5 – I couldn’t find my water bottle at work

I love water. I’d rather drink water than anything else. So when I couldn’t find my water bottle, I got a little cranky, even though I passed three different water fountains as I searched.

I almost complained (out loud), but thought about how ridiculous I was being. I mean, there are people around the world who have no access to water, or who walk miles to fill a bucket and carry it home. Meanwhile, we have water filters and water bottles, and swimming pools with thousands of gallons of water.

1st World Problem #6 – We have diseased plants

We placed a few plants in the garage for the winter months. They looked unhappy with their burnt edges, root rot, and just looked bad.

I almost complained, but I thought about the luxury and benefits of having plants. Oxygen, joy, beauty.

What I learned:

Did we hear any complaining from Jesus when he was lugging that cross around, falling down, getting back up, and then I mean, the nails? The NAILS.

Bottom line: Count your blessings. Look around you, they are right in front of you, and their hearts are beating.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Do Cigarette Butts Make Birds Healthier?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #27

While driving to work yesterday, I had the news on for background noise. I scarcely listen as bad news is just SO bad. Like every day, I waited for the traffic and weather reports, which, like laundry, always show up about every three minutes.

As I crawled along in traffic, the long, sharp cheep of a finch came through the speakers. As a representative of most people over 50 who watch birds…so many birds, I reacted to the chirping like Pavlo’s dog, poised, ears perked.

The story shifted to one about birds using cigarette butts to build their nests.

Here’s what they said: For years, sparrows and finches have been using cigarette butts to build their nests. They gather them methodically, like a mason lays brick, one at a time, placing them carefully as they watch their home grow. The birds specifically place the used cigarettes next to their incubating eggs, with their little chicks waiting to peck their way out.

Why?

Turns out, these brilliant birds have figured out that the chemical ingredients in the butts repel invasive parasites and other insects from their nests, giving their fledglings a stronger immune system.

Amazingly, birds across the world, including New York City, the Galapagos Islands, Europe, and Mexico, are all on the same page. They figured out a way to not only recycle cigarette butts, but also protect their precious little chicks.

What I learned:

What I learned: Isn’t it amazing how birds all over the world can agree on something, while our world feels so chaotic? Maybe it’s because they think of others instead of just themselves. Let’s follow the lead of the finches of the world and try to take care of our children first.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Will you be the linchpin?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Throwback Thursday (from Runonmom 2021)

Lenten Reflections #26

Step aside velcro, glue, duct tape, and 3M strips, the linchpin is here to hold it all together with a wise and unique approach to work.

According to the Merriam Webster Dictionary, the definition of linchpin is 1: a locking pin inserted crosswise (as through the end of an axle or shaft) 2: one that serves to hold together parts or elements that exist or function as a unit.

Seth Godin defines a Linchpin as an employee in an organization who is indispensable. An employee who has crafted their job into a role that touts them as unique and valuable.

Lately, linchpins can be found in cubicles and classrooms – start-ups and Starbucks. They invent, connect people, lead, clear up chaos, bring their own dance moves, and make themselves indispensable.

Will you be the linchpin? The cog? The compliant employee? The boss? Your own boss? Go with your gut, but do work that matters and do it well.

As Godin writes, “Every day I meet people who have so much to give but have been bullied enough or frightened enough to hold it back. It’s time to stop complying with the system and draw your own map. You have brilliance in you, your contribution is essential, and the art you create is precious. Only you can do it, and you must.”

What I learned:

Be brave. Build your own human experience.

Writer Neil Gaiman Quotes

Thank you for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Do you have MENTAL clutter? Here’s what to do…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #25

Back in the 90s, I took a photography class at the Smithsonian Institute in DC. We learned about aperture, shutter speed, and focal length, and worked in the darkroom, where I watched my underexposed photos turn into dark, indistinguishable images. We learned to use negatives in printing and practiced the rule of thirds, teaching us to think about composition rather than just pointing at the subject. I soaked in all the knowledge and went home each week thrilled to capture the world with my Canon AE-1 35mm.

Our first homework assignment was to make a pinhole camera to teach us the basics of photography and how light travels in straight lines to form inverted, real images. I followed the instructions carefully, as the camera only needed: a box, a hole, and light to produce a photo.

I remember fishing out my Asics Kayano shoebox — my favorite running shoes — from under the bed, spraying it with black paint inside and out, and using a small pin from my sewing box to make a tiny hole to let the light in. I marveled at the simplicity of it all, wondering how an image could truly be captured through such a tiny stream of light. There was no clutter, no rushing—just find your image and be patient. I carefully set the camera on the slightly rusty roof of my 1986 Pontiac Sunbird, chose my shot, and waited.

This simple act of minimizing the tools used to capture an image created space for me to take a more thoughtful approach to the medium. Some photos turned out better than others, but with fewer choices to make (set it and wait), the process seemed to bring more clarity and intentionality.

WHAT’S THE CONNECTION?

My story of the pinhole camera came up last week when I was doing 317 things at once (not well). My brain was functioning more like today’s digital cameras on burst mode, spitting out 20-40 full-resolution photos per minute.

ALL THAT CLUTTER!

Mental clutter is debilitating, leaving us unfocused, unproductive, and exhausted.

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how many of us fill our days to the brim. We say yes to jobs we truly know we don’t have time for, yet saying “no” seems harder than the work itself. Cars become offices. We drive and text, eat, make appointments, and take calls. Kids are rushed from school to soccer practice to piano lessons, and we run or exercise with the constant drone of something in our ears.

Inside that clutter living in our heads, some subsets follow: kitchen clutter, drawer clutter, car clutter, food clutter, closet clutter, clothes clutter, and, and, and…

FIX IT!

In my research on mental clutter, I found that overcommitment and muddled minds lead to negativity and exhaustion.

So, to combat the mental clutter, I am listing five user-friendly ways to declutter your mind:

  1. Clean and clear your physical space – purge and spruce up! Don’t just shove the things you don’t use into the attic, basement, or a closet. Get rid of it. Someone, somewhere, needs it more than your attic.
  2. Set your priorities – know what your values are and how your goals for the day, month, or year matter. Make a list and stay focused.
  3. Reject regret – Focus on right now, this moment. Don’t dwell on yesterday; let go and move on. Tomorrow is waiting patiently.
  4. Control your digital diet – My friend’s son canceled his Xfinity account the other day, and as he was barraged with questions about why and whether he should try another package, maybe add his cell phone to the plan to get the bundle deal, he responded by saying, “I am replacing Xfinity with books. Lots and lots of books.” The Customer Service Agent said, “I love books too, let’s get this canceled.”
  5. Pray, meditate, worship, or just breathe – you know why. It is your truth.

WHAT I LEARNED:

Decluttering your mind begins with the same concepts as designing a pinhole camera. Start with simplicity and intention, then be patient with yourself; we, too, have long exposure times.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia