Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Penance Service

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #12

At the 5:30 mass on Sunday, the Monsignor said there would be a “Penance Service” on Monday night. At the time, I only processed the word Penance. Not Service. So on Monday evening as I walked to the church from th11e parking lot, I was chatting with my parents and sister on the cell phone. “Why is there a mass going on?” I said – mainly to myself.

My sister who excels in listening said, “You said it’s a service also.” “No way, that means a mass?” I said, sounding not very devout in my Catholicism, “Okay, I’m going in, any sins you guys want me to tack onto my list for you?” Dad said, “Just the standard sins”. I could hear my sister in the background yelling to my mom (who still doesn’t think she needs hearing aids), “Sins! She wants to know if you have any S-I-N-S she wants her to tell the priest!” Mom chuckled and said, “Not that I can think of, but say hi to kids and Justin for us.”

I signed off, “Alright, I love you guys, I’m off to find the oldest priest in there, maybe he won’t hear me when I say it’s been a very long time since my last confession.”

As I walked in, a woman was behind me and I asked her, “Is there a mass also?”

Sounding rushed, she said, “I don’t think so, I mean, I need to be somewhere soon.”

I jumped in, “I know, I thought it was just a quick in and out thing. Well, I guess I’ll go play it out.”

“Me too.” she agreed.

I stopped myself at the baptismal font, reaching the tips of my fingers in and reflecting on what I just said. I needed to reset. The reason I was there was to take time, ask for mercy, and try to be a better mother, wife, daughter, and overall being. I guess I better add “lacking devotion and patience” to my list for the priest.

Going to this Penance Service was kind of like going to a divine drive-thru and ordering Mercy with Compassion and Grace on the side. About 10 priests dispersed themselves around the church and waited for the lines to form. And boy did they form. Since I arrived a tad tardy, I was already standing by two chairs in the back of the church set up for confessional conversations. I was first in line. I sat down facing a kind young priest who bowed his head – my signal to start spilling the beans.

I actually kind of choked and couldn’t remember the sins I rehearsed in my head so I started with the line I memorized when I was seven, “Bless me Father for I have sinned…it’s been a really long time since my last confession.” Then I just started talking, both our heads bowed, staring at the worn church carpet. I closed with the best line I know when forgiveness is on the table: “I am sorry for these and all the sins I MAY have forgotten”. Covered all my bases. Father did some fancy absolving and blessing and sent me off with a penance and a gentle reminder to really try to go to confession at least once a year.

What I learned:

I left the church with a second wind, a big flux of dopamine floating in my brain. I felt a little lighter yet a lot more full. This Act of Contrition. Voicing my wrongs. Saying sorry out loud for being selfish or judgy or ungrateful helped tug me out of the marshy waters and back to Mother Earth.

Quotes I love:

“Forgiveness. The ability to forgive oneself. Stop here for a few breaths and think about this because it is the key to making art, and very possibly the key to finding any semblance of happiness in life.

I believe, more than anything, that this grief of constantly having to face down our own inadequacies is what keeps people from being writers. Forgiveness, therefore, is key. I can’t write the book I want to write, but I can and will write the book I am capable of writing. Again and again throughout the course of my life I will forgive myself.” – Ann Patchett

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Writer’s and Runner’s Block

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#11 Lenten Reflections

Today I felt I was rapidly running up to the proverbial cement writer’s block. Some days I fear writing- who will read it anyway? What if it’s terrible? But, I do it anyway. I sit and I write. I’m discovering that sometimes writing badly can eventually lead to something pretty great. Not writing at all leads to nothing.

When I am procrastinating my writing, I typically do a lot of things that I make look very important like- wiping kitchen counters, vacuuming, and over plucking my eyebrows. I see the distractions as a spritz of grace when I need to take a minute and think about what to share.

This leads me to runner’s block…

My favorite thinking is done when I run. However, I have been told to take a hiatus from running because, according to my orthopedist, my ankle has aged much faster than the rest of my body (wrinkles not included). I mean, the guy looked me right in the eye then back to the x-ray, and said, “I’ve never seen such a thing, but you have the ankle of an 80-year-old”. Naturally, I changed orthopedists. I figured since he was half my age, he couldn’t possibly know what he was jammering on about. 

So I received a recommendation from a sporty mom and the new “Doogie Howser” is known for pushing surgery way beyond the back burner. He likes to try many options before surgery. “He’s my guy,” I thought. “I’ll be running again in no time.” 

Turns out they all went to the same wacky school and apparently once you see bones rubbing together without any buffer whatsoever, surgery IS the only option. The new doctor said, “As a runner myself (jerk)…I know it will be hard. But you could try other things – Swim! Ride a bike! Jump on an elliptical!” “I’m doing them all,” I told him. “None of which will ever equate to a run, but – I have tried.”

So after many tearful visits and a realization that I need to zip it and count my blessings, I will have the surgery at the end of April. It’s only a one-year recovery. Good gracious. This reminds me, I need to sign up for the 10 free sessions of psychotherapy my insurance covers. My serotonin will be running low, so I’ll have to supplement with a positive mindset and maybe wine.

That’s today’s rant. Go get some fresh air. Maybe go for a run for me 🙂

As always,

thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Wait, but Why?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#10 Lenten Reflections

First off, thanks to anyone who is reading my posts. I hope it makes your day a little brighter or lighter.

I just need to be a mom for a moment. My mind generated so many questions after sitting outside in the cold watching my son play baseball and then not play. So then I started thinking of all the whys? Sometimes we think we know the answers but honestly, I’d rather jump inside people’s heads and crack that code. I guess I better just stick to having Faith with a capital F. Faith that people have reasons.

Here are my whys?

Why is my son not playing? Why is someone else’s son playing? Why am I tired constipated or angry? Why does my son’s stomach hurt again or why is my daughter over tired? Why did my friend get laid off? Why did that teacher resign? Why Trump? Why can’t someone young and spry and kind run for president? Why are people so divided when we are so much alike? Why do we call God, God – why not Hank or Hannah? Why does age bring on wrinkles and sagginess? Why do we cover ourselves with armor, ready to fight in a moment of messiness? Why am I scared of an empty nest? Why don’t I call Mom and Dad every day? Why can’t we lead with mercy and grace? Why? Why? Why?

All questions I can try and answer, but I’ll probably be wrong. So for now, I’ll just seek Serenity.

I’ll end with the Serenity Prayer:

Thanks for joining me, stay positive, and hug your family,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Faith with a capital F

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#9 Lenten Reflections

Faith in people

My son Dexter’s life is like a slow, melodic, country music song. He drives a Dodge Dakota, sees big swaths of land as a palette for bike trails and a humble home, kneels at church, loves long country roads, small towns, family, fixin’ things, and wiping his hands on his jeans to perfect the patina. The one gem in his soul that shines the brightest is his faith. Capital F- Faith. Faith that the sun will rise even if it’s overcast and gloomy, and papers are due and midterms are overruling his trail-building time. He has Faith in God and country, and even in today’s world of division and rupture, he has the most remarkable Faith in people. 

Which leads me here…

Last night he sent us a picture of his broken bike rack and said it had been hit by a truck. “I know who did it. I was in the bike center and some friends saw the truck and the guy.” 

Of course, I reacted instead of slowly sipping his story word by word.

“Well, let’s just order the part, don’t make anyone mad and just wait until there is clear evidence of who did it.” As I was writing this profound and bossy text, he sent us a link to the part he needed. Click, click, and click. “I’ll order now”. I texted back. 

The phone rang and as I picked up Dexter said, “Please don’t order that part. The reason I told you about my bike rack is because it is something relevant that is happening right now and I like to keep you updated on my life. I know how to handle this.” 

“Wait – what?” I said, trying to sound cool, as my son just went full “adult” on me. I rebounded knowing how darn blessed I am that my kids even care to tell us anything. 

I swear, in college, I remember distinctly saying out loud, “The less my parents know, the less they worry.” So, man, I knew something rare was happening. I was like a child on Christmas morning – a big box waiting by the tree and when I ripped it open it was filled with honesty and faith. 

“Okay,” I said treading lightly in an attempt to not ruin the moment and jeopardize my chance of him sharing the next “relevant” thing happening in his life. 

“Just be careful – remember, it’s just stuff.” I reminded him, leaving my hand in the pot just enough to give it one more stir.

“He has a mullet and a truck, Mama, I think we have a lot more in common than you think. He’s probably a nice guy. I just know what I would do, and maybe he can help me buy the part I need. I know it was 100% an accident.”

After about ten minutes had passed, Dexter called and said he met the guy, they actually went to the same high school. He said the guy felt really bad and paid him for the damage.

This kid has an unscathed faith in people. He sees a mountain and rides right over it, doesn’t skirt around it to find the easiest route. Conquers it, gets to the other side, and coasts to the next.

What I learned:

Trust your kid’s judgment. Have faith in people, and realize as Dexter said, “We’re probably more alike than you think”. Of course, we are. We are all broken and stunned, scared and guilty, chosen and welcome. But no matter what, we are not alone.

As one of my favorite country songs says, “I believe most people are good”. Thanks for restoring my Faith in people, Dexter.

Here are some of the lyrics by Luke Bryan:

I believe kids oughta stay kids

As long as they can

Turn off the screen, go climb a tree

Get dirt on their hands

I believe we gotta forgive and make amends

‘Cause nobody gets a second chance

To make new old friends

I believe in working hard for what you’ve got

Even if it don’t add up to a hell of a lot

I believe most people are good

And most Mama’s oughta qualify for sainthood

I believe most Friday nights

Look better under neon or stadium lights

I believe you love who you love

Ain’t nothing you should ever be ashamed of

I believe this world ain’t half as bad as it looks

I believe most people are good

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

“Step off the wood, Jesus needs the cross”

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#8 Lenten Reflections – Throwback Thursday – On Gratitude

I worked in a sports bar in DC for years. Managers came and went as they did, hoping to climb the exhausting service industry ladder or better yet, open their own establishment. Like most bosses, some had a lasting impact, others shuffled through so quickly, that I barely recall their names. But like most workplaces, life lessons came from teammates, supervisors, customers, and experience.

After working at a non-profit health organization from 9-5, I knew when I arrived at the bar, I had to wipe the day’s slate clean. During the day, I managed various health programs including a smoking cessation project for Hispanic youth. Ironically, I would then schlep over to a bar with a cigarette machine and a cigar bar upstairs. Needless to say, when I swiped into the time clock, I REALLY had to stop thinking about my day’s work and focus on service.  

As in most jobs, there are always complainers, and I’m no different. Inside this smoky bar where I spent so many hours, there was one manager named Daryl who did not tolerate moaning. When anyone griped about  the minutia – rolling silverware, making a pot of decaf, bussing an extra table, he would always say,

“Step off the wood, Jesus needs the cross”. 

His words sent an instant reminder to quit complaining about first-world problems and be grateful for the work we were doing. It certainly squelched a lot of my own grievances and others. It helped all of us realize a bad day didn’t have to tether us but rather guide us to what makes us happy.

So today, be grateful. Grateful for what you can do, grateful for who you have around you, and especially grateful to Jesus for carrying that cross for us. Even when things are at their worst, nothing compares to His sacrifice. Step off the wood, be thankful, and make every day better than the last.

Pray for those you love, those who drive you a little nuts, but mostly pray for a life where you are present and awake and paying attention and being kind to yourselves.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Music and a gal from Galway, Ireland

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#7 Lenten Reflections

I love music. Everything about it. In college, I worked at a restaurant called Black Bart’s Steakhouse, Saloon, & Musical Review in Flagstaff, AZ. Most nights I carried five plates on my arm filled with T-bone steaks and slung colorful cocktails called things like the “Arizona Sunset” and the “Singapore Sling”. On the half-hour, the staff would stop and we’d all belt out a few Broadway tunes – then as the “Saints Went Marching In” or a favorite “Phantom” song ended with harmony bouncing off the knotty pine walls, it was business as usual. Throughout the night servers would jump on stage to sing assigned solos which were listed on the back of the swinging kitchen door. It was the best job. I sang alongside phenomenally talented people who have gone on to direct movies, sing in operas throughout the world, and work at NPR. Some of us teach and blog. Well, that might just be me, but I’ve got some priceless memories and really cool friends.

I am always hunting for fun music that I can connect with, so when I was reading the “Deamon Deacon” a fantastic, daily blog put out at my daughter’s university, I stumbled upon a recommendation for a soulful song by 20-year-old Aimee Carty that blew me away.

Aimee Carty is a young Irish singer/songwriter who is a master of storytelling. Each song is laden with wonderfully catchy lyrics that sound like a journal entry. “Two Days into College” is one of those songs I want to memorize, analyze, and share. Today I walked the dogs and listened to it five times. Possibly seven. I couldn’t stop listening. Carty’s voice is absolutely delightful and heartwarming and as she sits at the piano singing, you just want to be in the room with her and hang out.

One evening while we were washing dishes, I played “Two Days into College” in the kitchen and heard my son singing along. Turns out he had already heard it on TikTok. You see, sports and music are his main feed, so although he had seen Carty sing the song herself, he had recently seen Duke basketball player, Jared McCain singing the introduction to “Two Days into College” on TikTok. Turns out I’m not the only one who memorized the lovely and honest lyrics. It went viral. McCain boosted her name, it was so sweet.

@hezyhandlez_

2 days into college | #jaredmccain #dukebasketball #basketballedits #fyp

♬ 2 days into college – Aimee Carty


The lyrics read like prose…a story she jotted in her journal or just told her friend on the phone. She talks about her first two days of college, being behind (already), worrying about doing too much or not enough, messy rooms, and a boy she named Collin who doesn’t play guitar.

Carty makes it effortless to relate to her song…as those two days could be the first of anything: a new job, a first date, the first moments of grief or joy or wonder.

And isn’t it so, that every day we are on the cusp of sorrow or stress, bliss or the unknown, maybe we should take two days at a time and reflect like Aimee Carty.

I’ll leave you with her healing, wise words:

God, I know
The one thing that’s important above everything else
Is to learn not to put all this heavy pressure on myself
I try believe it when I say
“If it’s meant to happen, it’ll happen anyway
I’ll be fine”

I’ve got time
I’ve got time
That’s where I’m at, to be honest
Just two days
Two days into college

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

You can follow Aimee Carty on YouTube, Instagram, and TikTok.

Note: I have no idea why everything above is in italics. I pressed something after midnight and couldn’t “undo” it. Even after saying a few choice words. Some things are just meant to be I guess. Have a happy day.

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

The Beauty of Community + 40-year-old baseball glove found

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#6 – Lenten Reflections

“The greatness of a community is most accurately measured by the compassionate actions of its members.” – Coretta Scott King

Since you all are on this daily journey with me, I wanted to give you an update on the baseball equipment that was stolen from my son’s locker room over the weekend. Unfortunately, the items were not found, nor were the culprits.

However, what was revealed was priceless. In less than 24 hours — numerous baseball teams, alumni, neighbors, and families reached out and donated equipment and money to help get the team ready for our Monday night game.

So thanks to the love and generosity of our community, we were back in business! And who knows, the gloves and bats may turn up someday…

Coincidentally, I stumbled upon a fascinating article about a couple who frequented a Goodwill Superstore in Florida. One day the wife glanced at some sports equipment on a shelf, and staring right at her was her son’s baseball glove he had lost 40 years ago and 1,000 miles away.

Apparently, he left it on a baseball field in Ohio after a Little League All-Star game. He had hustled over on his bike the following morning to try and find it, but no luck. Until 40 years later! His mom bought it for $1.49.

So who knows, maybe years from now these boys will get their well-worn baseball gloves back, but for now, they will be just fine. After all, they are surrounded by a loving, kind, and generous community – what a blessing.

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia

Quotes I love:

For every soul, seeing Him in her own way, doubtless communicates that unique vision to all the rest. That, says an old author, is why the Seraphim in Isaiah’s vision are crying “Holy, Holy, Holy” to one another (Isaiah 6:3). The more we thus share the Heavenly Bread between us, the more we shall have.” – C.S. Lewis

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Miraculous Hawks

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Before our son left for baseball this morning, a huge hawk landed on the fence (his high school mascot is a Hawk). She sat there calmly as hawks do waiting motionless for a squirrel or maybe the rasckly rabbit that uses our yard as a port-a-potty. I turned away for a second and she was gone. Off to hunt or build or perch.

I thought back to an early summer morning at the ball field where I watched a hawk skillfully carry a large stick to the tippy top of one of the tall baseball lights surrounding the baseball facility. She and Mr. Hawk were building their nest stick by stick carrying pine needles, pieces of bark, and twigs crafting a wide home with an amazing bird’s eye view (pun intended) of four different baseball fields. For the next hour, I watched them work tirelessly as parents do to set up a safe, sturdy home. Apparently, hawks are big fans of fixer upers so it may be that they refurbished the nest – ah…very green, forward thinkers.

I read that once the hatchlings are ready to leave, the whole family picks up and abandons the nest. Wow – I thought – our nest is nearly empty, but given the cost of housing right now, we may not vacate our little home right away. Luckily our brood knows how to find their way back home and to the laundry room. One of Dexter’s favorite facts to proclaim when he comes home is “I’m just a guest!” This is his lame attempt at weaseling his way out of clearing the dish rack or helping with dinner. None of us fall for it.

What does it mean if I see a hawk?

The symbolism of the hawk is vast. Some view the hawk as a symbol of strength and protection. Other theories say seeing a hawk can be a sign from the universe that it’s time for you to grow spiritually, and intellectually and seek your true potential. They can inspire and guide you in decision-making and keep you poised and focused in the process.

I’m going to say it’s like having a bunch of 3-pound, striped-bellied, red-tailed life coaches waiting to help us along our journey. Maybe give us a little nudge towards hope. Let’s be clear, hawks can’t necessarily help you decide whether you should make pasta or use DoorDash for dinner and they won’t guide you to buying Bitcoin or push you into an IRA. They can, however, be a source of connection and joy.

There is a beautiful story in The Catholic Reporter about two brothers who spent hours discussing hawks and love and the soul.

“Raptor guys” they called themselves (sounds like superhero brothers fighting crime).

Turns out, they are all-knowing “Birders” who found joy, solace, and brotherhood in the osprey, Cooper Hawk, and the Red-tailed…they knew them all. They discussed them all. They delighted in them all…up until their last moments together and beyond.

In the article, one brother says:

“We talked about owls and osprey and eagles and kites and falcons and other raptors, too. But mostly we talked about hawks because we knew hawks and saw hawks every day and had always both been addled and thrilled by hawks and we always would be, even after one of us was ashes in a stone box under an oak tree.”

Hawks. Such a miraculous and healing bird. (Go Hawks!)

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia

Word of the day:

Addled: adjective- unable to think clearly; confused

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Looking forward and finding ourselves

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#5 Lenten Reflections

When Zavier was 2, he rode his Zebra fiercely down the sidewalk with quick Flinstone feet, always looking backward. “Look in front of you!” I’d yell – worried he’d crash into his brother on his scooter or sister immersed in her Babysitter Club book on the grass. What could possibly be so interesting behind him?

As I was reading the book Siddhartha by Hermann Hesse, essentially a foraging of oneself along a path littered with suffering, surrender, and serenity…I thought of Zavier’s rearview mirror gaze. I thought about how I am guilty of looking back, and wishing things were the way they used to be instead of how they are, right here, right now – embracing who I am: tired eyes, post-50 love handles and gray roots – even though the little box of color said “6 weeks of color”.

In the story, following an exchange with Buddha, Siddhartha continues his journey in search of where he belongs, wrestling with every decision. “At that moment, when the world around him melted away, when he stood alone like a star in the heavens, he was overwhelmed by a feeling of icy despair, but he was more firmly himself than ever. That was the last shudder of his awakening, the last pains of birth. Immediately he moved on again and began to walk quickly and impatiently, no longer homewards, no longer to his father, no longer looking backwards.” As Siddhartha searches for the Self, he finds the struggle comes from fear of himself and running away from his truth.

I thought about our old dog Misty, who would constantly glance back when she ran with me and I let her off the leash. She would bolt ahead, only to stop and make sure I was still behind her. I was always leery to let her run off-leash thinking she’d decide to really catch the squirrel this time – once I thought I’d lost her, but on that snow-white day in Maryland, she was out running with deer in a field, an unmitigated sanctuary.  She saw me and came right back. The elation she showed when flying down a hill, herding another dog during a game of fetch, or jumping in the water was priceless. Had I restricted her or squelched her natural courage, she would have lost all of those moments dogs need to thrive and be alive. We all need off-leash moments. A time to let go of the tethers in life and push forward on our own accord.

What I learned:

Whether you’re on a tricycle navigating your way down the sidewalk, going for a run with your dog, or reading an enlightening book like Siddhartha, give yourself some grace as you push all the messiness away, the worry of what people think of us, the battle for botox or not, the misconception that more stuff equals more happiness.

Don’t overthink, act. Take steps, take risks, take time. Love yourself.

Quotes I love:

“Here’s how I became myself: mess, failure, mistakes, disappointments, and extensive reading; limbo, indecision, setbacks, addiction, public embarrassment, and endless conversations with my best women friends; the loss of people without whom I could not live, the loss of pets that left me reeling, dizzying betrayals but much greater loyalty, and overall, choosing as my motto William Blake’s line that we are here to learn to endure the beams of love.

Oh, yeah, and whenever I could, for as long as I could, I threw away the scales and the sugar.”

– Anne Lamott

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Baseball Locker Room Robbed

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#4 Lenten Reflections – Losing a baseball glove is like losing a good friend

Our son’s High School Baseball Team’s locker room was robbed Friday night. Thousands of dollars of equipment was stolen. Bats, gloves, sunglasses, and bags.

Zavier’s glove is gone.

Let me explain Zavier. He’s just a cool kid. Huge smile, dazzling green eyes, and not a frivolous or pretentious bone in his body. Simply Zavier. What you see is what you get.

Unlike our other kiddos, who worked like crazy to save money for a car or truck, Zavier opted to buy his sister’s old car for a portion of the money he made working over the summer and save the rest for baseball gear.

So yesterday morning when Zavier returned from the batting cages, I asked how everything went and he replied, “Interesting”. Not hearing his signature, “Good” I knew something was wrong.

He went on, “We were robbed…bats, gloves, sunglasses, bags”. All gone. “Only my glove is gone”.

That is so Zavier. “Only my glove”. No stress, just the facts.

“Coach will send an email about everything,” he said.

Here’s what I know about baseball gloves:

Most people know every player has a special relationship with their glove. The hours spent breaking in a glove are endless. They start out stiff, uncomfortable, and awkward (kind of like I felt going back to work after being a stay-at-home mom). Poor gloves.

For the last two years, Zavier has worked on breaking in his Rawlings Heart of the Hide 11.5 glove. Countless catches and snags have molded its every crease and seam. He rubs oil on it when needed, doesn’t let anyone touch it (although his brother teases constantly), and in the off-season, he sets it in the same spot on the kitchen island for safekeeping. He has spent endless hours with that glove – and it was poised and ready for his senior year on the Varsity baseball team. Now it’s gone. And the season just started.

I look at this senseless and cowardly act of stealing as just sad. Not only did the thieves take the equipment, but they took the coveted commodity of time. The hours these boys spent molding their gloves, getting the bat tape just right on their bats, and caring for their baseball gear were also stolen.

So today Zavier dug up his old glove and is oiling it up as I type. Looks like it’s back in business. One thing Zavier still has is loads of love and care to give to his old Rawlings and hopefully a new glove sometime soon. For now, we’ll just move forward and (somewhat angrily) pray for the people who must have needed the equipment more than the team.

What I learned:

When I heard Zavier say “We” in “We were robbed” I immediately thought of the collective word. Usually “we” referred to our immediate family – and this time it was about his family, his beloved baseball family. These are the guys he spends hours with – every day. Working out, throwing, catching, hitting, fielding, laughing, discussing books, cleaning the field, keeping each other motivated, and maybe most importantly, seeing who can do the best impersonation of their Coach’s – long-drawn-out, calm yet stern voice. I would assume there are bonus points if you can remember his classic quotes like “You were running to the ball like a blind dog in a meat market.” That’s his “We”. His baseball family.

Like all families, there are wins and losses, joys and tragedies.

This time equipment was lost. It’s just gone. But it is just “stuff”. It can be replaced. And honestly, their spirit and love of the sport weren’t taken, and we all know sometimes in life that’s all you need to keep you going. Love.

The best news is they are all healthy and ready to play.

Final thought:

Moments like this bust me into being grateful for the day…a reminder that every morning we are at a new trailhead and can either take baby steps or big loud stomps on our day’s journey. None of us know what’s going to happen next. We can recognize the moments we loathe – saggy necks, clothes that don’t fit, baseball gloves being stolen, but we don’t need to sit in the grave with all the bad. We have a choice to look up. Look up at the sky and drink in the beauty of the day one deep breath at a time.

Let’s go Hillgrove Hawks!

Thanks for joining me,

~Lucretia