Month: April 2026

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Holy Saturday

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #40

It is 6:00 pm, and we are not at the Holy Saturday mass. We are at our son’s baseball game.

For the last 17 years, we’ve attended Holy Saturday Mass. Watched the baptisms and confirmations, heads dripping, and babies crying, shocked by the Holy Water.

We listened to the readings, when God looked at everything He had made, and found it very good and declared it a new day. We heard about Abraham, who scared the heck out of his son, then God said WAIT, Abraham! And we heard how the Red Sea parted miraculously.

We lit candles and watched the wax drip on the paper cups as they do. At every age, the boys messed with the wax, and Cora scolded them each time.

Two hours later, we headed home.

Each year was the same.

But change has to happen.

Without change, we are stagnant. Without change, I would have missed the double rainbow I saw at the baseball game. I like to think it appeared at the exact time all of those new Catholics were being baptized. Because that’s how God works. Little miracles. One at a time.

So we will attend Mass in the morning. God will wait.

What I learned:

This has been 40 days of joy, prayer, worry, stress, and not much sleep, but aren’t the vessels of our days always jammed with worries and wonders?

God bless you all.

Thanks for joining me for 40 days.

I’m so glad you were here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Dogs suffer from Dementia too

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #39

I love nothing more than family and my sweet dogs.

So when I see them suffering, I hate it.

Most nights sometime between 11:00 pm and 4:00 am…

in New Mexico, my Mom wakes up wondering where she is

in Georgia, our dog Sancha wanders around, barks and barks, veterinarians call it the midnight stroll

in NM, Mom awakens, ready for pancakes.

in GA, Sancha wakes up hungry for canned food

in NM, exhausted from trying to make sense of the world, Mom takes naps during the day

in GA, exhausted from trying to make four legs work as a team, Sancha sleeps most of the day

in NM, Mom wants to go “home,” remembering so much of the past and none of today

in GA, Sancha wanders from room to room looking for a place to rest

Then the day comes, and the New Mexico sun rises over the mountains…

This is when Mom walks around the yard checking the plants and trees, always stopping to smell the roses (She’ll make sure you smell them too).

she remembers where the tomatoes are planted and drenches them in water like a baptism

she remembers that the newspaper lies somewhere between the sidewalk and the lavender plant

and where to find the Cheerios. Honey Nut. Not Plain.

she is not sure if she already ate, but knows when she’s hungry.

In Georgia, the warm day begins and…

Sancha sniffs and lingers by her favorite bushes on walks

and still rolls in the grass when her face itches.

she remembers to step a little higher when there is a curb

and rests her head on anyone’s lap next to her

All of this made me think about a recent book I read..

In A Man Called Ove, author Fredrik Backman writes,

“And time is a curious thing. Most of us only live for the time that lies right ahead of us. A few days, weeks, years. One of the most painful moments in a person’s life probably comes with the insight that an age has been reached when there is more to look back on than ahead. And when time no longer lies ahead of one, other things have to be lived for. Memories, perhaps.”

This is what I learned:

Dementia is an agonizing thing. Memories are pieced together like a crazy quilt. Each one irregular in shape and size, stitched together with needle and thread. Each scrap of material a memory of childhood or maybe yesterday. Raveling begins a little each day as stories are stolen. On the periphery of their minds, we care for them and gather the fallen pieces with fury, hoping maybe tomorrow will be better, yet it’s not. It never is. And so it goes. This life, robbed of its past and one moment to the next.

We know the time is coming for Sancha. We are there.

Thank you for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Scoot over, Judas! The Last Supper, personal space, hubris, and humility

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Throwback (HOLY) Thursday updated

Lenten Reflections #38

I often find myself rattling off the same rule reminders to my students. Some are basic “say please and thank you,” while others are more distinctive: “Shirt on please, your arms need to be inside your sleeves… no spinning on the floor…stop sucking on your shirt…walk in the hallway…” Today, I even had a kindergarten girl come into class and ask if I would please remind Michael not to use bathroom words because “earlier he kept saying P-O-O”, she spelled it out.

Other than the potty talk, most of the kid offenses were about personal space, which, when you are under eight years old, the truth is, whoever is next to you, really wants you to sit super close to them…they just don’t know it.

So tonight, I focused on the famous “Last Supper” painting I acquired from my grandmother’s home after she passed. I remember walking through her double-wide trailer, seeing those apostles all lined up and thinking, if this meant something to her, it means the world to me. I grabbed the apostle crew and a small hand mirror that flipped back and forth, revealing facial blemishes and all your pluckable eyebrow hair.

In Leonardo’s Last Supper, the first thing I noticed was the lack of personal space between the apostles. I wondered why, out of the twelve guys having dinner, none of them considered sitting on the other side of the table to get a better view of the whole water-and-wine miracle.

Of course, we know this masterpiece depicts the moments after Christ let his chummy crew KNOW-HE-KNEW that one of his disciples would betray him before sunrise. When you look closely, that darn Judas looked nervous, yet not an ounce of humility lingered in his soul.

I thought…maybe Judas was weak…or felt he didn’t belong…or didn’t have a space.

Do you ever question your space in the world?

I do. In fact, sometimes Judas and that nasty Satan sneak into my brain, and I focus way too much on my jiggly inner thighs and not enough on the homeless. Or care too much about my future and not enough about a refugee’s tomorrow.

What I learned (2026):

Be humble.

“Wash the feet” of others – bring them water, listen to their needs, and bolster them up in their despair.

Shush hubris.

Stop it in its tracks. Shakespeare’s Macbeth was based on hubris, the complete collapse of a prideful man from a position of supremacy to humility. Pride is a fatal flaw.

It’s not about us.

Why is it so hard to ignore the mirror in front of you and look into the eyes of those around you?

“The greatest among you must be your servant. Whoever exalts himself will be humbled; but whoever humbles himself will be exalted.”

Matthew 23:11–12

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Passover, Seder, and Frogs?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #37

“I am FULL Jewish,” said Josie, a bright, six-year-old who is more faith-driven than most grown adults.

She asked if she could share a little about Passover with the class.

She sat straight up and began, “Today is the first day of Passover. It represents God leading his people out of Egypt. It’s called Passover because the angel of death passed over. Back then, they used to have a lamb leg; it was a lamb that you had to love for a lot of days, but then you had to kill it, eat it, and then put its blood on your doorpost, or else the firstborn would die. And um…this person, I forgot his name, but this person who used to live in Egypt, killed someone, then he ran away. God came through a burning bush, and the bush was all fine. He told Joseph to lead his people there.”

Josie continued, “We’re also going to do something really fun with frogs!”

Class was ending, so we missed the story of the frogs, but intrigued, I did a little research on the amphibian and how it fit into Josie’s Passover explanation.

Biblically speaking, frogs were the second of 10 divine plagues unleashed upon Egypt when the Pharaoh refused to free the Hebrews from slavery. Throughout history, the frog symbolizes the liberation struggle—the very liberation Jews celebrate on Passover.

God told Moses, “Behold, I hear the cry of the children of Israel. I have surely remembered you and seen what is done to you. And now I will put forth my hand and smite Egypt with signs and with wonders. Go tell Pharaoh, Let My people go!”Moses told Pharaoh, “Let My people go!” But Pharaoh said no. So God sent ten awful plagues to punish the Egyptians and to teach Pharaoh that only God is God.

After turning the water in all of Egypt’s rivers, streams, and ponds into blood, God said, “Let My people go!” That’s when the frogs hopped into the kitchen ovens where bread is baked. Then God sends gnats, flies, locusts, darkness, and finally the killing of the firstborn, as young Josie mentioned. Finally, Pharaoh freed them from slavery. (Our Beautiful Passover Seder Table and Frogs)

Josie went on to say she’s super lucky because she will be the child to ask the four questions at the Passover Seder meal. A true honor.

Here they are:

How is this night different from all other nights?

On all other nights, we eat chametz (leavened foods) and matzah. Why on this night, only matzah?

On all other nights, we eat all vegetables. Why, on this night, maror (bitter herbs)?

On all other nights, we don’t dip even once. Why on this night do we dip twice?

She told us the story beautifully, now she just has to memorize the questions in Hebrew! If any six-year-old can do it, it’s Josie.

What I learned:

Jewish children are immersed in their religion, culture, and education. The Seder is a prime example of a time when they are encouraged to ask questions, think critically, and explore their beliefs. The pride Josie has for who she is and where she came from is remarkable. What a gift.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

🙂 Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Listen to their stories: Dad’s Shoe Shine Business 15¢

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #36

“What color is this?” my 90-year-old Dad asked, sitting on the edge of a plastic chair, pulling out a round, black tin with the words “KIWI” written across the top.

“Black,” I said. He placed it carefully in the box and pulled out another

“This one?”

“Black.”

“This one?”

“Black.”

“Dad gummit! I need brown. I can’t see these.” Dad’s macular degeneration is causing a slow decline of his vision. “The doctor said I’d lose 75% of my vision. But that’s okay. We can do this.” He said it like we were all looking through his eyes, only seeing the small disk of polish with blurry words on top.

I reached into the old shoe-shine kit, outfitted with a horsehair brush, several circular tins of polish, and a neatly folded rag.

“Here, Dad. I know this is brown. I remember getting it at a yard sale for you.”

He chuckled and smiled. “A yard sale.” He echoed my words and sounded like he was remembering an old friend.

Dad loves yard sales, going to them, holding them, talking about them. When Mom and Dad were younger, they would hit up the “Free piles” at sales. Broken chairs, old trunks, tables, and unfinished quilts were saved and given new lives. Together, they would repair, upholster, stain, paint, stitch, and clean each item, readying them for their new owners. Then every summer we would have a family yard sale. He loved visiting and bargaining with people, sometimes being jokey and saying things like, “$4.00? That’s way to much to pay us, how about $2?”

Dad reached in the dark, stained wooden shoe shine box, and pulled out a small bottle of liquid shoe shine.

“What color?” He asked.

“Black. Would you like me to do the soles?”

“Sure.” He said. He sighed, rubbing the polish on the brown leather shoes. “When I shined shoes in Barrelas (his childhood neighborhood), I charged 15¢. Yup, 15¢ and a few times customers gave me a quarter, and for change, I didn’t have change!”

“Well, what did you do?” I asked.

“I ran!!” Then I’d hear, “I’m going to tell your dad!” The words trailing off in the distance.

Dad squeezed and globbed the brown liquid on the shoes and it dripped on the patio floor. “How does it look?”

“Like new!” I said. pulling the red, vintage brush from the box and buffing one shoe at a time.

“I used to love polishing my shoes. Still do actually.”

What I Learned:

Listen to their stories. Objects jog our memories, and stories hold us all together. Remember to take pride in your shoes and keep them shiny.

Thanks for joining me.

I’m so glad you’re here,

Lucretia