Author: Lucretia Cahill

No matter how hard we try not to, we constantly over-schedule ourselves. My parents are 79 and 82 and even they find themselves running from Pilates to breakfast with friends, and then to their staple triangle of doctors, church, and grocery shopping. Glance at any parent today and whether they have one or twelve children, they are on the go. They scald to their destinations like a baseball player slides into home as the verdict “Safe!” looms in the dust. Looks of relief laced with exhaustion appear on their faces as they plop in their waiting chairs, poised for the next leg of their parental race. Personally, I zoom around just like the next guy, kids in tow, dropping off, picking up, and carpooling precious cargo from school to swim, baseball, church, then mountain biking.

SCHEDULING OVERLAP

Yesterday, we had a hat trick day. Three simultaneous events, and the natural occurrence of a scheduling overlap. So, we had our timing precisely coordinated. The plan: as my husband mountain biked with our son, I would take our daughter to swim, then our youngest to his baseball game. During batting practice, I would run for 30 minutes around the field, hovering like an Army Black Hawk helicopter, then go pick up our daughter from swim. Therefore, leaving one twenty-minute window where I would not be at the baseball field, but would alert the coaches I would be right back. 

You may have peeked through this 20-minute window before.

Here’s what it is:

1. It’s the 20 minutes of time when you are fairly confident your child will be okay if you leave them in a public place with people they know and parents you trust.
2. It’s the same 20 minutes of time you will panic every second you leave your child alone at a location while you are in transit to collect other family members.
3. It’s the exact 20 minutes you will pray your child doesn’t get pummeled with a ball, bat, lacrosse stick, swim fin, or any other object causing the impending concussion adolescents suffer in today’s sports world.
4. Finally, it’s the 20 minutes you drive soooo carefully so as to not get pulled over or cause a fender bender, completely ruining the carefully manicured plan you are in the middle of implementing.

Fortunately, I made it back in 19 minutes and as soon as I saw my son in the dugout he exclaimed,

“You missed it! I just hit an inside-the-park home run!”

Of course, I did. What could possibly happen in 20 minutes?

As a parent, I have trained myself to think the worst, you know the thinking…your child says the wine at church “is really tasty” and you begin budgeting time for AA meetings. OR your child loves high-speed, precarious bike riding, which in your mind is the inevitable precursor to a teenage driver who cruises way too fast on I-75, so you begin bargaining with God now. And clearly, addiction to sugar equals future drug problems. Do you get the gist?

Even though I consider myself a half-full kinda gal, I never thought something amazing would happen during the 20-minute window. But it did, and I couldn’t be more grateful it was positive (thank God for covering our overlap). On the heels of our son’s announcement of his hit, our daughter, who would rather have a root canal than watch a two-hour baseball game declared, “See! It’s good luck when we’re not here! We should definitely go home. It’s in everyone’s best interest.” “We’re staying, I’ll bet you he can do it again!” I announced.

As our daughter rolled her eyes all the way to the bleachers and set up her studying workspace, our family mountain bikers hustled in from the parking lot questioning what they missed. “Just 20 minutes,” I said. Right then, our home run hitter called them over to the dugout for a play-by-play. I beamed as I heard him exclaim “Then I slid into home!”

Yup, you just never know what can happen in twenty minutes. If you have the overlap:

1. Let trusted adults know the plan
2. Drive safely
3. Pray for all things positive

Who would have thought, the first at-bat my husband and I miss, and it’s a home run!

DIG DEEP: Even if you only have 30 minutes while you wait for batting practice or your child’s orthodontist appointment, walk or run around the parking lot or field. Movement makes moms more cheerful.

BACK POCKET PRAYER (keep this prayer in your “back pocket” as you go through your week):

Clear clutter in your home and give away anything you are not using. In the words of Mother Theresa:

I like lists. Mostly to do lists. I don’t always love the to-do’s on the list, but there is a definite satisfaction that comes with checking items off as they are completed. Sometimes, I’ll even tack on already completed items to the list, just to cross something out. When I started using lists in college, they looked like this:

• Study for finals
• Dorm meeting
• Work shift at the restaurant
• Run
• Buy flowers
• Lay out in the sun
• 10 cent wings at Granny’s Restaurant for dinner

The joy of college! As expected, over the years, my lists have changed. A smidgen.

I’ve also imposed this chronicling of responsibilities on my children. When they were young, I presented “visual lists” of made beds, clothes in hampers, potty time, and brushed teeth, which graduated to wordy reminders to complete homework, prep backpacks, and clean rooms. Even though they are only half-listening, I tell the kids to “Let the list lead you”. It saves me from the continuous broken record nagging that causes eye rolling, heavy sighing, and the vicious circle of “why’s?!” that ricochet off of every calmly presented request which quickly morphs into a cacophonous command.

Some of our children (the boys) do not embrace the power of lists as much as I do, and employ their own strategies:

1) School Agenda – assignments and tests are written daily, logical substitute

2) Backs of hands – imminent items are scrawled on hands – a unique, yet messy, and hard to miss option.

Conversely, our daughter, armed with a pack of thin markers of every hue, creates colorful, fancy-font to-do lists she designs when she takes a break from preparing her crafty “vocab” cards for school.

STRONGLY RECOMMENDED IDEA: To accompany the lists, I also make a calendar each month and display it in the kitchen where everyone can see the upcoming games, appointments, practices, and other events. Although drawing the design is another item to put on my own TO DO List, I truly enjoy setting it up. It’s my one artful contribution to our home, plus it serves a purpose and answers all of the “When’s my….” or “What time is the…” questions.

Functional and fun.

Although I filmed this in the incorrect format, here’s my process. Take a peek.

Today’s takeaway:

Even if other “have-to’s” are pending, take the time find something you enjoy and do it. Whether it’s drawing a flower on a calendar or prepping your garden space for planting tomatoes. Heck, just slap your new me-item on your To Do list and make it an official have-to. Life flies by, and it’s in our best interest to enjoy every minute.

Dig Deep: Take time to stretch. Find a fitness class that focuses on a variety of movements, yoga or pilates (my mom’s favorite) are perfect options.

Faith and Fortitude: Here’s the quote on my calendar this month – it actually connected with the sermon from mass today. But maybe sermons are like horoscopes and you can always find a connection.

“Your faith can move mountains and your doubt can create them.”

Thanks so much for reading and stay tuned for next Sunday’s post.

40 Reflections #39: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

I should have read this Holy Saturday information first thing this morning to set the tone for the day, but I didn’t.

Holy Saturday
Holy Saturday (from Sabbatum Sanctum, its official liturgical name) is sacred as the day of the Lord’s rest; it has been called the “Second Sabbath” after creation. The day is and should be the most calm and quiet day of the entire Church year, a day broken by no liturgical function.

If only I planned my days more efficiently, my calendar would look like this:

1. Holy Saturday – be calm
2. Standardized Testing for kids – encourage them to be happy and not stressed
3. Doctor’s Appointment – be brave

So even though my family’s Saturday did not launch with a Biblical message or a devotion, it started out like most mornings, noisy, emotional, and busy. Breakfast was eaten, a preview/timeline of the day was given, and reminders of chores were issued.

Twenty minutes later, as with most growing kids, hunger returned…eating continued, and louder, less-loving reminders of the previously “forgotten” chores were delivered.

We continued the day with egg dying, planning for friend’s visits, and prepping for Easter Sunday. Cello music hummed through our home, basketballs bounced, and bikes soared over ramps. As a lector for the Holy Saturday Mass, I reviewed my reading, and reminded everyone to prep their clothes and be ready by 5:00 pm, of course at this point it was only 9:00 am, but God likes punctual.

Holy Saturday Mass

I love being a lector. I love being part of something bigger than me and helping out with such a beautiful, and powerful event. When trained as a lector, the most important lesson I learned was:

It is not about me. 

This resonated in my soul, mainly because I love reading aloud. To anyone. Especially our children (I don’t care if they are old, I’m reading!). I’ll read whatever the kids want to listen to, butchering the voices in Harry Potter and insisting Pooh’s buddy Christopher Robin has an Australian accent, which shockingly sounds a lot like Harry Potter’s voice.

When reading for mass, I understood I should NOT make the words in the Bible about me. For instance, don’t be overly dramatic when reading or suddenly decide Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John grew up with an Irishman who influenced their speech greatly, and proceed to read with a lilt.

Upon arrival at church, I checked in as “Reader #5” and was informed there were only four readings and therefore no need for the fifth reader, me. Initially, I was a bit crestfallen, but understood it was a simple clerical error.

Although I was ready to read Isaiah, I remembered: it (whatever “it” means to us) is definitely not about me. It is about being calm, knowing your God-inspired purpose, and understanding your role in the world. “It” is about God.

Author John Piper writes,

“Perhaps our place is not at the center of the universe. God does not exist to make much of us. We exist to make much of him.”

And as we make much of Him, we will find the calm amid the noisy mornings, and sit on the bench as Reader #5, listening and following the word of God.

Dig Deep: Go for a nice, long, slow run today.

Lenten Challenge: Say your rosary and look up your saint day!

 

 

40 Reflections #38: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Good Friday

With Opening Day for Baseball Season occurring all over the country and Good Friday Services on its heels, I thought about sacrifice. Yours, mine, and God’s.

In that spirit, I asked our kids to think of a sacrifice they have made this past week.

1. “Grades,” was the first response. “I did well on one test and sacrificed my grade on another.” My daughter also said that even though her swim meet was fun, she sacrificed study time.
2. In baseball, our son said he sacrificed a fly ball for an RBI giving his team the lead in the game.
3. Our middle guy said he has sacrificed mountain biking on the trails due to all the rain, which he added, is the right thing to do to keep up the trails.
4. As parents, we sacrifice time, workouts, haircuts, and whatever it takes for our children. (I lied about workouts)
5. As children (thank you sisters), we sacrifice our established lives, without qualms, to care for our aging parents. After all, they sacrificed more for us than we could ever imagine.

How many times in your life have you stepped away from an opportunity to allow someone else to enjoy a shot at glory? That’s sacrifice. When our boys sit through insanely long swim meets or dance recitals. That’s sacrifice. When our daughter reads the entire Babysitter Club Series through baseball, lacrosse, and soccer games in the scorching heat. That’s sacrifice. Forgoing sleep to finish this blog. That’s sacrifice. You, taking the time to read this. That’s sacrifice. (thank you)

Jesus dying on the cross, that is the Ultimate Sacrifice.

Dig Deep: Let your body rest today, fast if you can, and drink lots of water.

Lenten Challenge: Make a list of sacrifices you have made in the last week.

 

 

40 Reflections #37: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

The other day my son asked if he could design an emoji for me. I agreed and he followed me around the kitchen as if he were sketching me with his thumbs on a screen, like DaVinci with a data plan. Once he got to the hair selection, I glanced over at the App and saw a cute, sassy haircut which looked fabulous on the emoji. Feeling like I should have a voice in the process, I submitted my request for the attractive haircut and reminded him in the right lighting my eyes are a sparkly hazel. He continued with facial features such as “face lines” (only 2!), ear size (“pretty normal, mama”), body type (he went with a small frame…smart boy) and a sporty outfit.

Within the parameters of the emoji menu, my human appearance was complete, although I’m still unsure why my head is so large. I (my emoji) looked so darn cute. Why couldn’t I use this for my next driver’s license picture? A genius idea!

When I researched the word emoji, I found Vyvyan Evans, a cognitive linguist, “studying emoji entails exploring everything from the nature of communication to the evolutionary origins of language to how meaning arises in the human mind. As he writes in his compelling new book The Emoji Code, far from being a fad, emojis reflect fundamental elements of communication; and in turn, this all shines a light on what it means to be human”. In plain speak, it’s an animated Scooby-Doo character version of ourselves with expression and text bubbles.

As humans, I often wonder if we are hardwired to focus on our flaws, eventually causing ancillary anxiety in our lives. Many of us peer in the mirror and see what others don’t: wrinkles, mystery spots, unkempt eyebrows, and bags under the eyes large enough to use at Costco. Choosing our eye and hair color and switching the style of our skinny jeans with one click is not an option. God gave us our individual attributes, and like they say in the south, we “get what we get and we don’t pitch a fit”. One bonus is we can shell out five dollars for a box of hair dye and tweak God’s formula just a touch.

I finally sat down for my cup of tea tonight, and dangling from the bag was this: So very true. With all the insecurities and worries trying to sabotage opinions of ourselves, we are bound to stay the course and love who we are both inside and out.

After my son completed my emoji, I peered into my own semi-hazel eyes and decided my reflection is something I cherish, even with all its wrinkles and gray hairs. Nevertheless, I think I’ll take the picture of my emoji into my hair stylist and see if she can replicate it, then I’m going to renew my driver’s license.

Dig Deep: Listen to the next Best Lent Ever  video and hold a plank for the duration.

Lenten Challenge: Go through the readings for the Tridium, discuss with your family, and mentally prepare your children for the profound Saturday mass.

40 Reflections #36: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

All the stars were aligned for a baseball game tonight. The weather was ideal, the parking lot was nearly empty and unriddled with invented parking spaces, parents had their multi-cup-holding chairs set up, and the kids were spirited and ready.

While standing behind the backstop, I spoke to an elderly woman who said, “Oh, that must be your son.” Perhaps she heard me shout things like, “wait for your pitch, good cut,” you get the idea. Or maybe it was because I had a camera pointed directly at him. “Yes, it is” I responded. “My grandson is next to bat” she continued. We chatted further about how fortunate she feels to be able to watch the games and see her grandson. I added how I love hanging out near the dugout where I can hear conversations boys have about pitchers, snacks, and “lit” pro players. She said she wondered if the kids enjoyed the games as much as we did.

While we sat, we could hear one player in the dugout bellowing out textbook baseball chatter, “Come on kid, you’ve got this, you’re going to do great kid, wait for your pitch kid.” The encouragement was nonstop and straight from the heart. The same player hollered inspirational words from center field to my son as he pitched. The other boys began the chanting also, and suddenly it was as if the players were virtually boosting each other on their shoulders with positive baseball jargon. As the game went on, there were errors, strikeouts, base hits, doubles, and fly balls. But with each play, the sentiment remained positive, and I couldn’t help but think the credit should go to the cheering player whose curly-hair held his cap high on his head, much like his enthusiasm.

At the bottom of the last inning, I walked over to say goodbye to the sweet grandmother, and as a base hit brought our team ahead by three points, she admitted, “I can’t believe I get butterflies like the boys.” “Me too.” I agreed, telling her my heart rate also zooms when the excitement builds for anything my kids do. Before she rolled her wheelchair away, she smiled and said, “You know, we are both good moms.” “Thank you,” I replied, touched I had my own cheerleader. After all, moms need to raise each other up as well.

Honestly, the best part of baseball is watching the boys put their thoughts aside, play ball, endure each run and out, and lean on each other for support. Personally, I wish the curly-headed player would yell out to me each morning, “Come on kid, we can do this life thing kid, we got this kid!!”

Dig Deep: Especially when you get to the point of mental fatigue, keep your thoughts positive and do a steady state exercise (walk, run, swim, etc.) for at least 20 minutes.

Lenten Challenge: Model optimism with your families. Pray for positive words to lead you in conversation.

Updated: October 22, 2019

40 Reflections #35: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Throughout this Lenten Season I’ve listened to Dynamic Catholic, a daily epistle filled with valuable lessons. A recent reflection titled, Why Worry?, echoed a discussion I had with my daughter relating to the common stressors of being a teenager: driving permits, GPA’s, friends, homework, finishing a race after crashing on your mountain bike, missing a ground ball in baseball, choosing homework over swim practice, projects, tests, loneliness, having a car, dating, not dating, college…the challenge, we agreed, lies in separating the worries we can control from those we must simply let go.

If only it were that easy. My worry pattern goes like this…

As a young mother,

I worried I wasn’t playing with our kids enough. Of course in my mom-mind, this absence of parental-child time would lead them to wade through the quicksand of depression someday. So when they were four, five, and six years old, I decided I would devote 15 minutes of play with each child immediately after their naps. I was confident they would grow up reflecting fondly on the dedicated time we shared playing Candy Land, trains, or dolls. I set my timer and play began!

My plan lasted about 3 minutes. Everyone awoke at the same time and all toys merged as Thomas the Train bulldozed down the Gumdrop Pass, while “doll”  swaddled in her blue and pink striped hospital blanket was laid down to nap smack in the middle of the Peppermint Forest.

Shockingly, my playtime schedule went a little better than my “let’s practice going to church during the week so we don’t look like a train wreck family every Sunday” idea. That story is for another day.

As a daughter,

I worry I don’t visit or call my parents enough. For years, Mom and Dad would traverse from the west to DC, Mexico, Luxembourg, you name it. Wherever their daughters lived, they visited…because “You do for family” as Dad always says. Now, for my octogenarian parents, traveling is not as easy, nor as frequent. So it’s my turn to  visit my loving folks. And call. Always call.

As a mom,

I will always worry about everything when it comes to our growing children. Over-scheduling, too much homework, not eating enough, too little sleep, sugar, phones, texts, mean girls, cyber yuckiness, the list Never. Ever. Ends.

So when I stumbled across this quote,

“We need to care less about whether our children are academically gifted and more about whether they sit with the lonely kid in the cafeteria.”

I first posted it on the wall in our bathroom (captive audience) for my kids to absorb.

Then, I bent it around my mind and refocused my worry lens on serving others. I asked my youngest son, “Do you ever see anyone sitting alone in the cafeteria?” Knowing where I was going with this (plus he had just exited the bathroom), he said, “No, but if I did, I wouldn’t be able to sit with them because we have to stay with our classes.” I pressed, “but if you could move, would you?” “Yes, Mama, I would”. Did I bait him up? Sure. Did he say the right thing? Yes. Would he really do it? Given the fact that our kids have always hated any sort of oppression against their peers, and can spot sadness, effortlessly (I might wear my emotions on my sleeve). Yes, I truly believe he would pack up his Goldfish and banana, ask to move to another table (Cahill’s despise getting in trouble at school), plop down next to his new/lonely/lost friend and rattle on about baseball.

My point?

Perhaps by stifling our own worries about outcomes and status quo, we can transform our restless energy into kindness toward the people who so desperately need to be uplifted, supported or simply want to share a bag of Goldfish during lunch.

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Dig Deep: On your run today clear your mind of worry.

Today’s Challenge: Say and dissect the Serenity Prayer –

God grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
Courage to change the things I can;
And wisdom to know the difference.

40 Reflections #34:

40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

When the children were younger, for one hour per week at church, we longed to be that family. You’ve seen them. The family with the brood of children who sit with their missals in their laps, following the words of the readings with their fingers, answering the priest’s questions with “Genesis!” or “Luke – Chapter 12!” during the children’s mass, or flawlessly singing all the high notes of”How Great Thou Art”. During the mass, they are referenced by onlooking parents who tell their own children “See they’re sitting” or “That boy doesn’t have his brother in a headlock”. Finally, upon their exit, they receive oodles of acclaim from elderly folks grateful for parents raising the next generation with respect and goodness in God’s House.

Unfortunately, even after putting our kids through practice/training type masses during the week when they were young (seemed so brilliant at the time), Sunday mornings remained drenched with whines, untouched missals, Matchbox Cars stashed in pockets, and little eyes staring up at us asking to be held. To this day, my husband and I sway involuntarily from side to side like palm trees in church, ready to hold any toddler needing a better view.

Enter: Palm Sunday.

Simply knowing Palm Sunday is on deck in the Easter Season brings me great solace. You see, even though the kids are older, there is still a restlessness during mass. As we enter the church we are greeted by our warmhearted Monsignor who bellows out in his Irish lilt, “The Cahill’s are here! Must be time to start mass!”. On that uplifting note, we make our way in, praying (already!) the usher doesn’t scoot us up to the front row. We sit, and as mass begins, there’s a lot of blaming, loud singing, correcting, and “not touching” that goes on in the pew, followed by my shushing, and my daughter’s re-shushing.

But Palm Sunday has something for everyone. Palms. Pliable, soft, fresh, green reeds begging to be manipulated into works of art. This is the Sunday for a long homily when Father can freely cover the highlights of the New Testament and even throw in a few biographies of some saints. Everyone is busy forming their humble cross tied in the middle with palm strings, and there is a feeling of calm throughout the church as we exit.

This Sunday, I vowed not to get too many palms because Mom and Dad taught us to take special care of them like you would a prayer card or rosary. So in that spirit, I placed our unused palms on the table in the narthex for the next fidgety parishioners.

As we climbed in the car, my youngest son said, “Mama, look what I found on a pew on the way out!” He passed me a handful of palms. “Oh great” I lied, “Let’s google how to make a basket when we get home.”

Dig Deep: During Holy Week set your prayer and running intentions each morning and see them through.

Lenten Challenge: Take time for others this week. Give praise, compliments, and love to all who cross your path.

40 Reflections #33: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

God doled out just enough water in the Rio Grande to call it a river, so growing up in New Mexico, a land-locked state, there was one activity we rarely did in my hometown. Swim. There was never a lake down the street or a pool next door. My most vivid swimming memory involves a big, bag of sour cherry candy mom would let us purchase after our swim lessons. The tanginess would help me forget about how terrified I was of deep water and make the whole day better. Another recollection was at a 4-H party when I thought how cool it would be to touch the bottom of the swimming pool. I instantly learned this is a much better idea if you actually know how to swim.

Since I wasn’t a great swimmer in my younger years, I had a do-over when I was older. Much older. In fact, I was home one summer during college, and decided to take lessons. As the first class began, I glanced in the next lane and holding onto the side of the pool was my friend Thad from high school. Implicitly, we exchanged the “I can’t believe it’s come to this” look, and proceeded to kick as we clung to the side of the pool in our beloved state surrounded by not one drop of water.

A few years back when we were looking for homes in the Atlanta area, the realtor repeatedly asked us if we wanted to live in a swim-tennis neighborhood. “No, we’re fine.” we would respond, flippantly. As our two-day search continued, we noticed 90% of the communities we visited were outfitted with the southern compound word that is “swimtennis”. As it turns out, we couldn’t be happier to have a pool and a court around the corner. Given my limited pool experience, I was determined to teach the kids to swim. Nowadays, most kids start their pool experience on summer swim teams. We simply taught them the basics, nothing technical.

The swim team idea never crossed our minds until our daughter decided to stop dancing at thirteen. At that point we did the “oh my gosh what will she do” panic so many parents recognize. That summer, we signed all of our kids up for summer swim. Such a brilliant concept and the best bang for your buck! Practice every day and you learn it all. Six or under is the average age to begin this summer swim career, so our children were at a SLIGHT disadvantage, at 11, 12, and 13. But they did it, thanks to a kind college student named Lucy who took them under her wing and guided them through the warm-ups, strokes, and meets.

Despite the chatter of the never-ending, all night swim meets, they turned out to be a great destination once a week. The hum of the crowd, splashing water, kids rooting for each other, Sharpie laden arms listing their events, and the excitement of winning, or not, filled the evenings. Two summers later and we have one out of three children in year-round swim. Like any transition for a teenager, it was lousy just before it got better, but today, she butterflies next to those kids who started right after diapers, and is just as strong. In her case, determination thwarts experience.

We want our children to excel and try it all: band, sports, music, languages, even swim. Ultimately, we yearn for them to have their “thing”… any spark in their day that brings them comfort and a sense of purpose.

Dig Deep: Try cross-training. Diversify your workout to keep your muscles guessing what’s next.

Lenten Challenge:  Your child will follow your example, not your advice. Be the example.