Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

PreK Olympic Games

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Whether you are 4 or 40, the thrill of Olympic competition is unmatched

Lenten Reflections #5

February 24, 2026

Good Morning!

I felt a little guilty this weekend when I realized the Olympics were in their final days, so I decided to consume them like drinking from a fire hose. I watched curling, bobsled, ice skating, more curling, hockey, ski jumping, more curling, cross-country skiing, the biathalon and rounded it all out with more curling.

I became very invested in that granite stone floating across the floor, coupled with the hollering to “hurry,” or “clean,” or “stop”.

At one point, I found myself using the same terms and energy when our 15-year-old dog, Sancha, threatened to poop in the house. “All hands on deck! Go! Go! Go! Door! Door! Clean! Hurry!” One person opens the door, another helps guide Sancha out, then we double back, and someone sprays disinfectant on the floor while another mops fervently with an Olympic Curling style: fast and calculated.

The thrill of the Olympics also came last Friday, when we held our own Olympic Games for the PreK students. The sports varied from bobsled (made out of a plastic bin and scooter wheels) to an equestrian (plaid-clad cardboard horses) event.

Each child had their country to represent and sport to play. Running, laughing, jumping, throwing, Band-Aids flying everywhere. Ahhh, just like Milan-Cortina.

Ups and Downs of the Game

The heartbreak of loss didn’t occur only during the Winter Olympics in Milan-Cortina, Italy. With the shocking defeat of Ilia Malinin in ice skating and the emotional letdown of Lindsey Vonn, the physical and emotional pain was devastating.

Meanwhile, in the gym with the PreK students…

Tears rolled down the cheeks of little Whit as he slumped on the sideline using his green and orange sweat band to wipe his tears. He was unable to make a shot during the PreK basketball Olympic Finals due to four-year-old Shepherd’s die-hard defense, which shut down anyone under three feet from shooting the basketball into the Little Tykes plastic hoop.

Then…

Prepping for her high jump, Little Annie called me over to ask for a Band-Aid to cover a new blister caused by the fancy tennis shoes she wore for the first time today.

Finally…

We had to make sure cute Candice was able to really go to the bathroom (she had sat for a while before the “Games Began” with no progress). Team Spain needed her to be ready for the pentathlon, so she shuffled off to the facilities.

(Please note: Names may have been changed to protect the privacy of bathroom use and frequency)

So here we sit, post 2026 Winter Olympic Games and PreK Olympic Games.

The world’s best athletes lived out their childhood dreams. Their every move watched, analyzed, and documented. They were in the spotlight for all to see – imagine the vulnerability. The fear. The excitement. The energy. The dread of how fast it all slipped through the sieve. Like summer vacation when you’re a kid, the days zoom by without even asking.

At school, the PreK athletes were anxious to see their parents in the crowd, cheer on their teams, and maybe even get a Band-Aid if it gets rough out there.

What I learned:

As the PreK games were coming to a close, 4-year-old Josie asked, “Do you think I’ll get a gold medal?”

“Yes! I really do.” I said.

And she did. They all did. It was one of those moments when all are joyful about winning.

“Is this real gold?” Jack asked, biting on the medal in that playful pose Olympians flash for the cameras.
His friend Rivers said, “I don’t know, but I think it says ‘Made in Canada’ on the back.”

Off they went to recess, jingling their “gold” and living out their childhood Olympic dreams.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

My Life Has a Superb Cast

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #5

Lucretia Cahill

Feb 23, 2026

Last week, Cora texted her brothers: “When are you coming home next?”

Friday rolled around, and I heard the rumble of Dexter’s truck in the driveway. He was home for the weekend.

Then, early Saturday morning, Zavier soared through the door, yelling, “What’s up, Fam!”

Cora had asked, and here they were.

It reminded me of when the kids were younger, and Cora would direct the boys in several plays they created. Sometimes she was the police officer, and they were the deputies in a big sting operation, or they were headline performers for a Christmas show. Cora would choose the songs, and the boys followed directions and sang the five holiday songs they almost knew the words to, multiple times. They threw on bonnets for Little House on the Prairie reenactments, performed Baptisms for every doll in the house, and took their bows one show at a time.

Everything went smoothly until it didn’t. Without fail, lyrics would go awry – a dreidel would get mixed into Rudolph’s Reindeer games, the dogs would drink the baptismal water during the doll ceremony, or potty talk would slide its way into a script, the boys laughing hysterically along the way until Cora would shut down the entire show.

But this weekend, they accepted their casting calls and showed up when asked.

Before I knew it, clean laundry was packed up, I wrote them each a little note, and their cars rumbled away. It was a wonderful weekend.

What I learned:

My life has a superb cast.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Confession: Duolingo Streak Broken

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

February 20, 2026

Lenten Reflections #4

I absolutely love running and used to do it almost every day. After a long run, I would read Runner’s World Magazine from cover to cover. I’ll never forget an article from 2010 about running streaks. It was about an elderly man in his 70s who would wake up every morning and run 10 miles, rain, snow, or sun. Ten miles. Every day. No breaks. That’s a streaker.

This month, encouraged by my sweet daughter, I am working on my own streak.

Enter Duolingo.

Unlike my natural drive to run daily, Duolingo has a little green, galloping owl that makes happy, squeaky sounds that are super motivating. Some days I feel like I’ve reached Mensa level in IQ, but instead, I simply earn one more point.

Bless me Father…

For 28 days, I’ve been consistent with my language lessons… until last night.

This morning, I woke up to find that darn Duolingo owl with droopy, depressed eyes and a big, fat band-aid holding it together. The forlorn owl, seemingly lost without its language partner.

I quickly learned that if you skip a day on your streak to becoming a Duo-linguist, the app will smother you in guilt. Good guilt.

Good, healthy, Catholic guilt.

Luckily, my penance was simple: a review and three extra lessons. I threw in a few Hail Marys for good measure.

What I Learned:

I thought I’d better do some research and understand a little more about streaks. Dr. Kay Milman, a behavioral scientist at the University of Pennsylvania, said streaks work for two reasons: potential gain, “because there’s something bright and shiny that they can reach for. There’s a prize, in a sense, that’s making you more motivated to get a thing done.” The second is loss aversion, where the pain of losing something is more intense than the joy of gaining it.

I also learned that consistency – in Duolingo and life – is priceless. Whether it’s showing up on time (every time) wherever you’re headed, following through on what you said you would do (like writing), or consistently praying. Every day, even when you don’t need something from God immediately.

Prayer is truly private—a pure communication from one’s heart to God.

No streak matters more than the power of prayer.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so grateful you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Stress, Parents, Dogs and Dementia

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #3

February 19, 2026

For the last few months, I have had a relentless rash on my arm. When the itching woke me up at night, I decided to spend a small fortune at a dermatology clinic. Once there, the 16-year-old-looking Dermatologist Assistant said the rash was a type of eczema and stressed that it “Wasn’t shingles.” (Thank you, Shingles vaccine. Both of you.)

The smooth-skinned assistant said, “Let’s try a prescription steroid and come back in three weeks.” “Also,” she went on, “I could definitely get rid of those sunspots on your face with a quick laser treatment. I chuckled at her honest offer and said, “No thanks.”

I tried the rash cream in the silver tubes, and it didn’t help. The rash itched and itched.

Then I noticed my jaw starting to tighten up. TMJ had struck again. I went to the dentist, and Dr. Croxton asked if anything had changed in my life—any stressors? “Let’s see,” I mumbled, with my mouth wide open, speaking only vowels from the back of my throat. I told him my parents are 87 and 90 and are doing just fine (but I said “fine” about an octave higher than my speaking voice – that kind of “fine”), our dogs are older too; in fact, Sancha, our 15-year-old dog, barks incessantly in the middle of the night—which might be a touch of dementia. I suddenly started scratching my arm and clenching my jaw. “Try not to do that to your jaw, you are reacting to stress.” He adjusted my night guard, gave me a PT referral, massage contact, and said Botox would help relax the muscles in my jaw.

There was a common thread between the rash and the jaw. Stress. (Oh…and of course laser treatment and Botox)

Horrible stress. Debilitating stress. Exhausting, itchy, clenchy stress.

Mom, Dad, and Dementia

Last night I called Mom and Dad on Alexa. I needed to check in and see how they were managing while my sister was at the doctor.

I was quickly reminded how Dementia is like a bad rash. Relentless. Unyielding.

But 3,000 times worse.

When I connected on Alexa, Mom and Dad saw me on the camera after I yelled Hi Mom!, Hi Dad! It’s your daughter, Lucretia!

I could feel the tension in the room. Mom didn’t know where she was and wanted to go home (her childhood home). She also didn’t know who Dad was and wanted her own father. Dad stayed calm in the way that only a person who loves someone so profoundly can – when the second half of “for better or worse” tries to test you but cannot withstand the intensity of their commitment. Mom asked what my name was, and I told her I was Lucretia, her daughter, over and over, like saying Hail Marys in a Rosary. I was secretly hoping there would be a grand intercession from Mary herself and fill their space with glorious grace, calm, and memory.

I began the calming rituals: Mom and I took deep breaths together, and Dad audibly joined us. I sang “You are my sunshine” on repeat and reminded her that she was safe and not alone. My sister arrived and went into fast action. More breathing, reassuring, singing. About 20 minutes later, Mom was walking down the hall with Dad and proclaimed, “I didn’t know you were here!” Whew. Mom was back.

Then she fell asleep.

What I learned

The decline of life is daunting, stressful, and itchy.

Our dogs’ legs shake as they walk, they stumble on tree roots, and they eat at 3:00 in the morning.

Our parents age. We age.

Our minds forget, our backs never forgive, our eyes strain, and our joints ache.

But right now, we are here.

Until we are not.

“Remember you are dust, and to dust you shall return.”

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you are here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Listening

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflection #2

February 19, 2026

Yesterday, at the end of my first-grade Spanish class, I asked the students if anyone would like to share a story about their weekend or anything at all. Wesley went first and proudly announced he had “Five playdates! Five!” Elizabeth glanced around cautiously and whispered, “My mom is going to have a baby.” Caroline followed, saying, “Actually, me and my family are deciding whether we should have another baby, or not.” Suddenly, rapid chatter about babies and moms and lots of something-doodle puppies followed. I raised my hand up in the air with the quiet peace sign symbol, and shushed the room. Frustrated, six-year-old Josie looked around and, in her raspy voice, said loudly, “We have to listen!”

Silence was restored (pretty much).

“Josie is right,” I said. Then asked, “But why is it important to listen to each other? Why does it matter?”

We went around the circle.

Here are their responses:

If you listen, you could learn something new.

If you listen really well, you can ask questions.

If you listen, the person talking won’t have to repeat it.

If you listen, you won’t forget.

When you DON’T listen, you might make someone feel bad.

When you DO listen, the person knows the thing you said matters.

Finally, the last student said, “My mom has her own business, so it’s hard for her to listen; she’s on her phone a lot.” There were lots of “Mine too!” proclamations darting around the room.

Ouch.

Guilty. I thought about the gazillion times I went out for a run or vacuumed, or bustled around the house instead of sitting down and really listening. That window of time when your kids really want you to listen closes quickly; don’t miss it.

WHAT I LEARNED:

  • I have learned that with younger kids, the most powerful lever parents and teachers have is their attention. They want us to listen, to watch, to send energy their way. I wrote more about showing up for our kids here, in Watch Him Take the Shot!
  • Pope Leo said, “The willingness to listen is the first way we demonstrate our desire to enter into a relationship with someone.”
  • “Blessed are you who stay. Who sit beside pain that cannot be fixed… Who bear witness… Try to listen. Try to love in the absence of tidy outcomes“. – Kate Bowler
  • Any time spent with others listening, sharing, and connecting is an investment in every relationship we have. Listen now if you have young kids; consider it money in the bank, an investment in your relationship. Listen now if you have older parents; their stories will soon be told for the last time. Listen to your hearts. Set the phone down, look up, pray, give thanks, and be present.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

40 Days

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflection #1

February 18, 2026

Today is Ash Wednesday and since February 2018, I have written my Lenten Reflections for 40 days each year.

320 posts.

320 Stories of my family, my fears, my fallacies, and my favorite moments.

This is my Lenten practice.

My Holy habit.

According to Charles Duhigg, author of The Power of Habit, there is a three-step loop to building habits: cue, routine, and reward. For example, my cue (Lent) triggers my brain to go into automatic mode and start the routine. The routine (Writing) is the behavior itself. And the reward (Sharing and Showing up) is what my brain likes and helps it remember the habit loop in the future.

Duhigg goes on to say, “…there’s nothing you can’t do if you get the habits right.” So here I am again, trying to get the habits right. One day at a time.

TODAY’S FACTS:

For the first time since 1863, three significant traditions intersect this week: Lent, the Lunar New Year, and Ramadan all begin within less than 24 hours of each other. This rare overlap will not happen again until 2189.

As billions of people across the globe begin their spiritual seasons, it might just be what the world needs…a little more faith in ourselves and our neighbors.

  • The Lenten Season consists of 40 days of spiritual preparation for Easter, with the three pillars of prayer, fasting, and acts of charity bolstering it up.
  • Across Asia, the Lunar New Year (the year of the Fire Horse) begins a new cycle with family reunions, food, and traditions.
  • Ramadan is the ninth month of the Islamic lunar calendar, when Muslims fast from dawn until sunset. Ramadan is supposed to be a month of mercy, goodness, and light that extends to everyone around them, in the hope that everyone receives the ripples of that light.

When interviewed on NPR, Saad Omar, an imam with the Islamic Society of McLean, Virginia, said that the convergence of these religious holidays carries a reminder of our shared humanity. There is a spiritual dimension where two people can have very different ideas and world views and politics, but when they both feel love, the love probably has a similar flavor.

What I learned:

If there is one thing I’ve learned in life, so far, is that we are more alike than we are different. No matter why we pray or fast or give alms, we are all doing it for a reason that is greater than all of us. This is why we are here. To help each other through the murky moments, to feel the hunger for spiritual strength, and to pray that peace will once again be restored.

Thanks for joining me.

I am so grateful you are here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Pope Francis had the Moral Courage Most Lack

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Rest in Peace Pope Francis

Monday of the Angel

On Easter Monday, Pope Francis, our first Jesuit, Latin American Pope, left this world on a day steeped in hope, the day after Easter. This hope is the exact message he delivered every day by just being himself. Easter Monday is known as ‘Monday of the Angel’ in remembrance of the women who went to see Jesus’ tomb and were told of his resurrection by an angel. Hope.

So, Monday morning, when I heard of Pope Francis’ passing, I thought about the angel that delivered the message, and as I am profoundly saddened by his death, deep in my heart, I pray Pope Francis is the angel to give God a nudge and remind Him of the struggling here. The lost jobs, the migrants, the poor, the marginalized, our neglected earth, and the lack of compassion for humanity. Losing Pope Francis was like losing our last hope.

Moral Courage

Moral courage is the ability to stand up for and practice what we think is ethical, moral, and right. Pope Francis chose to meet the world where it was and believed the church should recieve everyone -todos -todos.

I’ve dabbled in moral courage…I remember my son’s kindergarten teacher keeping the kids in for recess when it was 50 degrees, “too cold,” they said. I set up a meeting with the teacher. “Let’s agree to disagree,” she said. So I went to the PTA to start a petition, “too controversial,” I was told. Then the principal said, “Sorry, PE can count for recess.” Finally, I joined several parents from all over the city and went to the state capital in Atlanta, three kids in tow, to speak about how critical recess is for our children. How recess is a right and NOT a privilege. I researched kids, movement, and the brain for years, and finally, legislation was passed mandating 30 minutes of recess daily. Baby steps.

I remember standing amid Catholics for Choice at a march in Washington, DC, when it wasn’t the popular view to take. Yet I stood in the rain for hours with survivors of sexual abuse, and anyone who dared to respect a woman’s rights.

Some call this ludicrous. Others call it courage.

What I learned:

We find ourselves at a juncture when hope and courage dwindle with each headline and news break. Back in 2016, Pope Francis said, “Anyone, whoever he is, who only wants to build walls and not bridges is not a Christian.” He was right. He urged the cardinals and bishops to serve as a field hospital for the people, not a country club for the rich. He chose his name Francis from St. Francis of Assisi who saw all of creation as a sacred manifestation of God’s love, how perfect.

So, let us live like Pope Francis and choose humility over ego, the poor over the powerful, and people over property.

Rivers do not drink their own water; trees do not eat their own fruit; the sun does not shine on itself and flowers do not spread their fragrance for themselves. Living for others is a rule of nature. We are all born to help each other. No matter how difficult it is …. life is good when you are happy, but much better when others are happy because of you. – Pope Francis

Thank you Pope Francis for being our beacon of hope and unrelenting courage.

Here’s to Another Good Day.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Look Beyond Yourself…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #40 – HAPPY EASTER!

Yesterday at Holy Saturday mass, Monsignor spoke to the newly baptized and confirmed and urged them to Look Beyond. Look beyond the bread they eat and the wine they drink. Look beyond themselves and toward God.

Growing up in New Mexico surrounded by long vistas gave me a powerful perspective on what lies beyond my own reflection. Mountains stood majestically, and the 360-degree view of beautiful, unrestricted space was like knowing a pinky swear secret about how things are so much bigger and grander than us.

When I moved to Washington, DC, my environmental views narrowed, and I could only see what was right in front of me. Fellow staffers, government buildings, and marble floors dominated the space. However, when I peered over the desk, struck up a conversation with the person next to me on the metro, and took in all the history around me as I ran through the city, I developed a new, internal long view of life. In DC, the beauty of the city lies in the people- the diversity in languages, culture, food, religion, and perspectives.

Naturally, neither view was better than the other; both inspired me to see the potential positive mark I can make on the world.

What I learned:

Now that Lent has come to a close, it is the perfect time to move beyond any confines you have and open your eyes to the vista ahead. Avert your gaze from the monotony and look around you; tell the old woman at the ice cream shop that you love her dress, get up early to see the sunrise, and marvel at the moon.

Sometimes, it’s easy to find your vision by simply looking up… seek the light and move toward it. I’ve heard that if you capture bees in the bottom of a lidless Mason jar, they will find themselves trapped, bumping into the walls because they don’t look up to find the light that will lead them to freedom. I pray we all discover our perfect vistas, filled with light that helps us look beyond…

Here’s to Another Good Day.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Mary’s Holy Saturday was just awful

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #39

I awoke this morning with a heartbreaking curiosity about what Mary must have felt the morning of Holy Saturday. There is no record of how Mary spent the day, but I would imagine it was agonizing, silent, exhausting, and empty.

We’ve all been in that void when we wonder why horrible things happen.

Like recently…why were there more school shootings? Why is there a continued war in Ukraine? Why is Putin so evil? Am I supposed to love him like I love my own children? Why are people fighting over land? Why can’t we share? Where is God in all of this when we need him the most? Agonizing moments like this make us feel abandoned by God.

So Holy Saturday, when the most faithful of disciples, Mary, the Holy Mother, who gave her life and all of her love to her son, on that Holy Saturday morning, was severed from the one she loved so dearly.

This enduring loss Mary felt reminded me of a eulogy I heard on “Thanks for Being Here,” a podcast by Kelly Corrigan. It was written by a father from Dublin who lost his young son.

He talked about what he thought was the impossible, the death of his son, how it came thick and fast. “I sought the intercession of the saints of the church triumphant, evoked all the choirs of angels for the grace of God’s healing, insisted on the impossible, asked for the undoable…”. He felt upended in a tempest, pulled under the surface of everything they knew and were.

Like Mary must have realized, this father said he knew the currents of their lives and their children’s lives would carry them apart. But with faith, they held on tight to each other, then surrendered, finding grace and mercy. “We’ll live it for them and ourselves, doing good, being kind, showing mercy, getting into mischief, finding fun…start the day with prayer, we love, you we miss you, we love you, we miss you…and one day, lead us to the garden where we will never be parted again.”

What I learned:

The despair felt from the loss of someone you cannot live without is strong and unrelenting. Yet the faith we muster serves as a tiny lifeboat in a sea of grief. Let us live like Mary, stand by the cross, knowing in our hearts, the ones we love who have departed first will be waiting on the other side of the tomb in a beautiful garden with arms wide open to receive us.

Here’s to Another Good Day and a Holy Saturday.

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia