What does courage mean to you?
Go on a run today and think it through.
Sometimes it seems life is a blurry, distant event seen through the lens of an iPhone while the meaningful, real-time, share-with-my-parents-moments are the ones I commit to memory.
Here’s one of my favorite most recent memories with Zavier, the youngest in our sweet brood:
One summer day, Zavier and I went to Home Depot in pursuit of paint colors for the kid’s bedrooms. He was given the task of selecting a color for Cora’s room since she declared, “I have too many decisions to make! Someone just PLEASE pick a color for me!” Zavier obliged and was ready for the challenge.
As we walked past the pallets of ferns and rows of grills we suddenly saw a kitten dart directly in front of a huge pickup truck. “We have to…” I said. Zavier replied, “Of course we do…I’ll go look under the grills.” Two hours later, after wading through the perennials in search of those sweet green kitten eyes, we caught the little guy…and along with a few new friends, took him to the vet and found him a home. In true character, Zavier was patient, kind and loving. And now for some reason, he feels he needs to set out “at least an hour” to go to Home Depot.
Yes, this is just another moment. Not caught on video, just logged in our memories. We did, however, take a quick snapshot of the little guy and later picked out a trending gray color for Cora’s room.
So today, peek around the lens of your phone and celebrate the real world, it’s full of remarkable moments.
In college, I remember the first week of every term. A handful of syllabi for five or six classes clutched in my hand leafing through each to see when the final was scheduled, how much it was worth, and when I should start stressing about it. Tapping into some crafty self-talk, I told myself, “I can do anything for a semester”.
Somehow, back then, I knew I could get through the readings, homework, papers, and tests semester by semester. Anne Lamott tells a story of her brother tackling a last-minute report on birds when their father stepped in and told him to simply pick one bird and write about it, then move on to the next. Just go “Bird by Bird,” he said. So I also went bird by bird. Small steps eventually led to my Bachelor’s, a ton of real work experience, and later a Master’s Degree.
In our longer-than-most Christmas card, I wrote: “This year I feel our lives have been hitched to a race car skidding from school to work to practice and maybe home for dinner. The busy is as exhilarating as it is exhausting. In all the frenzy, even our traditions have been flipped on their backsides and altered to squeeze into schedules. But the moment we allow ourselves to log off digitally and mentally is when personal connections have a chance to resurface. So, in my attempt to keep the good stuff from rolling away with the tide, I bottled up some moments and stories to share.”
So friends, in this new decade and new year, let’s gather our moments, parse them out and share them. I’ll do my best to amass the virtuous with the vicious moments and share them here, bird by bird, moment by moment.
Ever feel like you’re constantly making mistakes as a mom, and wonder “WHAT IF I would have just done things differently?”
I do.
And every day I pray I’ll be the mom who guides with love and trust. Where God’s knock on the door is always answered, and grace soars in and ushers our kids through the messy moments of their teenage years.
Every day these “What if” questions herd my mind into a corral like an overzealous border collie with a flock of sheep. Sure, I know the right answers, yet the day flies by and I’ve botched it all again. Or have I? Maybe I did something right. As moms we have to forgive ourselves, trip, fall, grab onto something, stand up on our arthritic ankles and keep going one day at a time.
Here are my “WHAT IF’S”…
What if I went all day without saying one negative thing to anyone?
What if I didn’t complain to my kids about being on their phones?
What if I trusted more and criticized less. A lot less?
What if I admitted devices help with socialization?
What if I invested in what piques my kids’ interest or makes them laugh so crazy hard on their phones?
What if I walked by a half-made bed and thought of it as a glass-half-full?
What if I were able to feel their anxiety on the first day of school?
What if I didn’t complain once about my own appearance all day?
What if I focused on one task at a time?
What if I hugged my kids more?
What if I always made time for my husband?
What if I called my parents every day?
What if I walked my dogs more often?
What if I read a book, cover to cover…just because?
What if I sifted through my 42,644 digital photos and only kept my favorite 200?
What if I donated everything we haven’t used in one year?
What if I knew a magic word to rid my kids of their teenage worries?
What if I planned ahead for dinner?
What if I helped my kids learn to study and get it rather than memorize?
What if I reminded them more often how special they are?
What if I told them I know being a teenager can be awful these days, but it will get better?
What if I was as proud of myself as I am of them?
What if we could have had one more baby?
What if I felt their fear every time they tried something new?
What if I stopped feeling sorry for my unemployed self?
What if I celebrated being a mom?
What if I listened? Really listened?
What if I counted my blessings instead of yelling at them?
Would I be a better Mom?
LENTEN REFLECTIONS
In the beginning, I blogged for 40 days.
And so it happened, I did it.
Many thanks for reading.
Thanks to my family for enduring “Blogging Season”.
Please continue to follow my blog.
Run on, eat smart, and love life.
As Holy Week wraps up, I’m reminded of how things have changed over the years. Growing up, Holy Week was a quiet time. Typically we would have Thursday and Friday off from school and prep the menu for Easter Sunday. Somewhat of a nod to Thanksgiving dinner, with a few dishes thrown in to mix it up. One vivid memory is my Aunt Eugenia’s salad.
Always toting items from her Amway inventory, she was the aunt who rode motorcycles, brought her bird “Bonita” to visit, and played the accordion for Sunday mass. I’ve been told I have the same sharp-slanted nose as her.
She’d arrive carrying a big bowl and tongs from a recent Tupperware party and she had a knack for chopping everything in the salad tiny like a Cuisinart before they were a thing. The salad was actually on the verge of being a really dry Gazpacho soup. Little bits of iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, bacon, and other minuscule items that even back then my keen 10-year-old eyesight couldn’t identify. The salad dressing was made in one of those glass containers where you drop the Italian seasoning powder in and shake it up with vegetable oil. Partially hydrogenated? Who cared?
The salad sat alongside ham, mashed potatoes, red chili (in lieu of gravy), and the other usual Thanksgiving/Easter suspects. Another dish that was a hit was Mom’s pineapple salad. Made with cream cheese, Cool Whip, crushed pineapple, and topped with shiny maraschino cherries, it was a Dad-favorite. Maybe because it was a dessert disguised (if only by the name) as a “salad” or maybe because it was a once-a-year wonder. I’m always amazed when we stumble upon a gem of a recipe and it’s only made once a year. Perhaps that’s the formula. It always tastes good…but only once a year.
Otherwise, it’s “overuse syndrome”.
Once, I was volunteering at NPR and a talk show host named Rose said she loved my shirt. Thrilled with my outfit choice, I told her my husband gave it to me. “Great taste!” she replied. After that, I wore the heck out of that blouse holding on to the compliment as we do. Until one day one of my students probed, “Is that your favorite shirt ‘cause you wear it ALL the time.” And so it happened, I was immediately struck with “overuse syndrome”. That could be the pineapple salad’s story. Better to pace the good stuff.
I digress…
On Holy Thursday as we loaded up the station wagon and headed to St. Anne’s, Dad would remind us that mass “would be a long one”. Typically, he would do the readings as a lector, and Mom would play the organ. I had a choice to either turn pages for Mom or try to sit still with my sisters for the two hours of feet washing and the Last Supper. Up the stairs, I climbed to the choir loft for my bird’s eye view.
Under the cloudy Good Friday skies, we would attend services at 3:00 pm sharp every year. I still remember the cold, empty altar and solemn sentiment inside St. Anne’s Church. Mom reminded us, “This is the one day we don’t need to genuflect and we don’t call it a mass. It’s a service.” She went on to explain why and I said “Ohhhh” knowing I wouldn’t remember but back then I knew I could ask her anything, anytime I needed to – – that time of life when you think your parents are going to live forever and moments stand still like lighthouses shining bright.
Saturday we buckled in for another “long one” and I loved that mass.
One Easter weekend, after Holy Saturday Mass, we visited my oldest sister at New Mexico State University. That was the year I gave up soda for Lent – even though we never had soda in the house except for Dad’s RC Cola. I remember going out for pizza right after mass and getting the coldest most delicious Shirley Temple ever. It was served in one of those big red plastic cups and a fat straw.
What I learned:
Over the years, my view of Lent became less soda and more sacrifice. In college, a friend of mine and I vowed to say a Rosary together every day. During the long drive to San Diego for spring break we prayed, after going out with friends we prayed and even before watching Shamoo jump through hoops, we prayed the Rosary. Yup. I was wild and crazy then too.
Today, unless kids attend a school starting with the word “Saint” it’s likely they will be in school during Holy Week. Even Good Friday. Because times are different. Holy Week just seemed holier back then. Calendars are filled with games, practices, and activities with church fitting into the gaps.
Like anything else, age readjusts the lens on what matters. What we sacrifice, what we lack, what we share, what we just don’t need. For some, Lent might be about giving up chocolate or serving at a homeless shelter, maybe even blogging.
Parenting isn’t a lark, nor is being a woman, a daughter, or sister.
MENTAL EMOTIONAL PHYSICAL AND SPIRITUAL WORKOUT: WALK. PRAY. REPEAT.
LENTEN REFLECTIONS #39
Are we Easter people living in a Good Friday world? Here’s a profile of a must-read article:
In an interview with NPR titled Beyond Bunnies: The Real Meaning Of Easter Season, Anne Lamott discusses this idea originally penned by author Barbara Johnson. “Well, it’s the most profound holiday in the Christian tradition,” Lamott says. “And I think two things really come to mind. One is something that the great writer Barbara Johnson said, which is that we are Easter people living in a Good Friday world. And I think that every year the world seems more of a Good Friday world. And it’s excruciating, whether it’s Japan, or Libya, or whether its your own best friends and their children who are sick, which is something that makes no sense when you think about a loving God.”
The interview is profound and telling, reminding all of us we are here in this life for a quick minute. Ash Wednesday kicks us in the rear and reminds us we are indeed – ashes to ashes, dust to dust – it is up to us to grow far beyond ourselves, past our worries and merge onto the road of joy and mercy.
Originally posted on Good Friday, March 2018
The photo above shows very patient fans at their brother’s baseball game…now that’s sacrifice.
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 Jesus’s.
In that spirit, I asked our kids to think of a sacrifice they have made this past week.
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)
#36 Lenten Reflections
A little cardboard box sits on our countertop during Lent.
When we have extra change, we drop it in the box. Then on the due date, we match the amount inside as a family and return it to church. It’s a tradition. Another one. I love traditions.
This simple tool is for collecting Lenten alms—and comes with a Lenten calendar that guides families through the 40 days of Lent with activities, reflections, and stories. It is labled CRS Rice Bowl.
CRS stands for Catholic Relief Services the official relief and development agency of the United States Conference of Catholic Bishop’s organization. This handy piggy bank type tool encourages almsgiving to Catholic families during Lent. A curveball in the traditional “give up chocolate” mentality. It is accompanied by Lenten activities, prayers, and my favorite, recipes.
Now I’m not cool enough to call myself a foodie, but I ADORE food. The following recipe is vegetarian and uses clean, simple ingredients.
I hope you try it and love it! Click here for more recipes.
COCONUT DHAL – SRI LANKA
Makes 4 servings
Rinse lentils. Heat olive oil in a large pan. Sauté shallot and garlic until brown. Add lentils, cinnamon, curry leaves, green chili, curry powder, salt, coconut milk, and water. Bring to boil, then reduce to simmer and cook until lentils are soft, adding more water as needed. Season with lemon juice. Serve with basmati rice and top with cilantro.
Spirtual Workout: Try and say one Rosary every day this week.
Workout: Walk and pray…for yourself for a change!
#34 Lenten Reflections
As my children age, they repeatedly tell me what I forget. Maybe it’s reminding, but their tone is more of a “Mamahhhhh!!! Don’t forgehhhht, I have to be at school earlyuhhhh” (teenagers dangle an uhhhh on the end of words for emphasis). I don’t mind the reminders, in fact, most of the time I’ve written things down on one of 3 calendars feeling quite organized yet forgetting to merge the three. So a nudge to remember what’s on deck for the week is welcome.
I’m grateful they can remind me about the logistical stuff, but with three teenagers jockeying school, sports, hormones, and I wish I knew what else — as their mother, I am responsible to help lessen the weight of their mental baggage. That’s on me to remember.
Spiritual Workout: It’s Palm Sunday…my favorite kinesthetic mass. What can you make with palms?
Workout: Enjoy a nice bike ride with a friend! If it rains, play a board game, take a break, and do 30 push-ups and 30 squats.
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