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40 Reflections – #15:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Last week, our son was riding bikes, exploring the woods, and climbing trees with a friend. After a while, he came home from the trails and told us a tree fell on him. A little daunting, but luckily he was with a friend who was able to lift it off. Turned out it was an old, small pine tree he was climbing when it just snapped. Thankfully, he was wearing his bike helmet and ended up with only a scratched face, and legs. On Monday at school, he was questioned by friends about the mark on his face, and he shared his story. In the group of students, one boy pressed further, “Do you have a video of it?” “No video” was the reply. “Well then, it didn’t happen.” They debated back and forth, then finally, being a professional selective listener, our son confirmed, “it really did happen” and then moved on, ignoring further hassle.

At bedtime, he told me this story and we sat and picked it apart like old layers of paint peeling off the wall trying to find the original color. My inaugural feeling on the boy’s need for documentation to prove the truth was a feeling of exhaustion. Nowadays, technology negotiates our day much like a seeing eye dog, but with swipes, texts, and posts. We click pictures of our meals, and memories, shorten words and deliver messages as fast as our thumbs can go. Conversations dwindle with our busy lives, along with the age-old craft of storytelling – exactly what our son was doing.

As young children, there’s faith in stories. Maurice Sendak takes us to a wild rumpus and faithfully floats us home with Max as he arrives home to his warm dinner.

Faith in friendship is palpable when Charlotte sits in her web and says:

“You have been my friend. That in itself is a tremendous thing. I wove my webs for you because I liked you. After all, what’s a life, anyway? We’re born, we live a little while, we die. A spider’s life can’t help being something of a mess, with all this trapping and eating flies. By helping you, perhaps I was trying to lift up my life a trifle. Heaven knows anyone’s life can stand a little of that.”
― E.B. White, Charlotte’s Web

Faith requires vulnerability. Stripping the need for that which is tangible. In “Yes, Virginia There is a Santa Claus” Francis Church interprets faith in his editorial in The New York Sun in 1897:

“You tear apart the baby’s rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men that ever lived, could tear apart.”

The historian Stephen Nissenbaum connects ”Yes, Virginia” with not only faith in Santa Claus, but faith in faith. In the late 19th century religious doubt ran rampant among middle-class Americans. According to Mr. Nissenbaum “…God must exist simply because people so badly needed Him to.” When Mr. Church referred to ”the skepticism of a skeptical age, he was speaking to grown-ups.”

Now that doubt cloaks children too.

We make an emotional investment with every story we tell. Some may believe if a tree falls on a boy in a forest it’s true, doubters will question and want video proof. The vital action is to tell the story, be the raconteur and propel your listeners with you on a journey of faith.

Dig Deep: Go on a Rosary Run! Yesterday I did and it took my mind off the pain. 🙂 Run on!

Lenten Challenge: Pray for the doubters and cynics in the world, truly that’s all of us at times. Keep story-telling alive!

40 Reflections – #14: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Strolling into our daughter’s high school tonight, I chatted with another mom about the academic recognition event we were to attend. Neither of us knew any details, but we both agreed it was another feather in our children’s H.S. hats, boosting their list of activities on college applications…someday. (Who knows if they even need all the plumes of a peacock anyway?) Like most moms of ninth graders, we walk the high school path blindly. Reminding each other of forms, fees, and deadlines,Leaning on each other when tears are shed, all the while being told by “upperclassmen” moms to BEWARE because four years goes REALLY fast. These are the same moms who 10 years ago rolled their baskets (‘buggy’ in the south) by me and the kids in stores:

• Noting how I “REALLY had my hands full”;

(Not true, never carried all 3 kids at once)

• wondering how I did it;

(Probably did it, and am still doing it all wrong)

• and firmly stating: “enjoy it NOW, because it goes by SO FAST!

(half-truth: loud crying slows things down, but everything else races by)

As the event began, students with a 3.75 Grade Point Average (GPA), or higher, were inducted into the academic club. Of course today’s GPA’s are super-sized – climbing up to 5.0 in some areas, compared to the 4.0 of the past. It was a brief ceremony with a strong message from the teacher sponsoring the club. She shared a quote from a math professor from Young Harris College in Georgia:

“Fight the ghost of mediocrity”

I immediately wrote down these words and reflected for a moment. Peering around the auditorium at all the students, I marveled at the hours they had invested in their studies, the projects they designed, Power Point Presentations they clicked their way through, and hours of sleep they lost worrying about tests, grades, and GPA’s. Cycling between school, sports, instruments, and friends, can be hard to revel when kids are trying to become the well-rounded young adults we’ve tried (sometimes with too much vigor) to mold.

As parents or children, we all feel pressure. We strive to find balance, and pray we will have someone there to catch us when we stumble and fall, ultimately helping us transcend mediocrity. Embrace each other, time does fly.

**At best, this post is mediocre, but I’ll embrace that too.

Dig Deep: Power right past mediocrity, and try a 3-minute plank hold today!

Lenten Challenge: As Mathew Kelly from Dynamic Catholic would say: “Be the best version of yourself.”

40 Reflections – #13: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Last week my son had a chest cough, and then a fever, ultimately diagnosed as the flu. As time was critical, I picked up the phone in search of Tamiflu, the possible remedy to stop the virus from escalating. After calling dozens of pharmacies that had too little of the correct dose, only the adult dose, and definitely not the liquid suspension, I realized a four-leaf clover would be easier to stumble upon. Likewise, Tamiflu was only effective for the first 48 hours of symptom onset, so I abandoned the idea.

From the essential oil enthusiasts, elderberry pearls were touted as an even better option. Contemplating my search for the vintage antidote, I heard 90’s guitar music being strummed by my son whose fever had broke and looked 95% better. Plan B is always “let it run its course”.

All the digging for the Tamiflu took me back to the sick days of my childhood. Back in the 70’s band 80’s when I grew up, very rarely did we miss school.  If you were sick, there were two diagnoses: 1) you were throwing up and/or feverish, or 2) you had a cold – likely the result of you “going out with a wet head” which mom said would definitely lead to “catching pneumonia”.

Sickness 1:  With the stomach bug and a fever, you were sure to stay home. A trashcan was placed next to your bed, a towel over your pillow (not sure why – but I do it with my kids), and a 911 antique bell sat on your nightstand to knock over as you lunged for the trashcan alerting anyone close by to help. Mom would give you flat Coke, and if that settled, warm Jello would follow with saltines. The scent of chicken and rice would linger in the air, ready to be served to the rest of the crew and you, IF the aforementioned items settled.

Sickness 2:  Colds. As in any family, sharing is only easy when it involves germs. In fact, when I was five, one of my sisters who had Chicken Pox had a nightmare, climbed into bed with me, and kindly gave me the itchy sickness as she slept soundly.

When we were kids, at the onset of a tickle in your throat, you were directed to:

1. Gargle with saltwater.
2. Apply Mentholatum to your chapped nose (Vics Vapo Rub knockoff).
3. Take your Penicillin.

Notice how I skipped one compulsory step in our current healthcare system? Yes, the “go to the doctor” part.

From birth to 18, mom took my sisters and me to Dr. Tandysh. A kind man, respected by my mom which was key, and the perfect combination of doctor and father. For colds, Dr. Tandysh would typically send us home with a prescription for penicillin.  About 10% of the time, on the way home, we’d swing by Ruppee’s Drug Store, and Victor, the Pharmacist, would fill it while we waited. The other 90% of the time, Mom would say, “We have plenty, no need to get more.”

Plenty of Penicillin?

Who has plenty?

Mom, back in the day.

At home, nestled between the Afrin and Baby Asprin in our lazy susan deemed, “medicine cabinet”, sat a transparent medicine bottle that read:  Penicillin.  By the word refill, I’m guessing there must have been the tired #8 lying on its side representing infinity because the bottle was optimistically half full. Always.

The Penicillin regimen would begin after a few days of consistent cold symptoms. If it was tough to swallow, Mom would crush the pill between two spoons and add honey (10% less yucky). We were then directed to only take it for a few days, thus supporting the stockpile of little white pills. I never thought there were any oddities about our limitless stream of Penicillin. I figured it was a staple item, like soap, toothpaste, or butter. “Pass the Penicillin” was parallel with passing the milk. And for goodness sake, don’t use the last one, save some for the rest of us.

In the ’90s, once I began paying for my own insurance, picking up prescriptions, and visiting doctors, I quickly learned to have plenty of Penicillin was apparently not typical.

Today, if one of our children is sick, the rigmarole begins by:

1. Calling the doctor’s office at 7:28 a.m.,
2. Pressing redial until 7:30 when the office opens,
3. Once answered, set it on the counter on speaker – and from rote memory.
4. Press 1 – then 0 –
5. Then hold.
6. HOLD.
7. HOLD.
8. Attempt to make a sick appointment.
9. Abort the idea of seeing a doctor; a nurse practitioner is fine too.
10. Go to the office; be reminded of your high deductible, which has not been met.
11. Linger outside the “sick” seating area, and avoid touching anything.
12. Prepare to hear “Let it run its course” or receive a prescription.
13. Leave the doctor’s office.
14. Realize you forgot to get a note for school.
15. Return to doctor’s office, attain note, and slip out flu-free. You hope.
16. Call Mom and have her pass you the Penicillin via mail.

My childhood was a much simpler time. We ate clean, organic meals without having to label them as such. The exercise was simply going outside and playing. Phones were attached to walls. Hose water was quenching and even tastier when made into Tang. Finally, my favorite part of growing up was having family down the street if you needed them, or just some of their Penicillin.

Dig Deep: Consider trying Essential Oils. May save you a trip to the doctor.

Lenten Challenge: Pray for someone who is sick.

40 Reflections – #12: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Dig Deep: After a run, write in your journal and document what you saw.

Lenten Blessings: As you pray the Rosary, think about your breathing, and keep it calm and relaxed.

40 Reflections – #10: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Listening to NPR is my daily ritual bringing me joy, comfort, bliss, and calm.

NPR is kind of like laundry. They’re both faithfully present, easy to sort through, and always clean and true in the end.

Today I heard a story about Kristen Anderson-Lopez and Robert Lopez the songwriting duo behind the omnipresent song “Let It Go” from Disney’s Frozen. Aiming for a non-traditional Disney song, the lyrics were written with a profound emotional core in mind.

Ms. Anderson-Lopez spoke in words that connected me immediately to her message, and came at the time when I was heading for my run. I was ready to clear my mind, and even though so many joints in my body hurt, the run always helps (runonmom). Anderson-Lopezs’ kind voice came over the radio as if she was chatting with me, directly, and any mom or woman listening.

When discussing the meaning of “Let It Go”, she stated, “…as a female writer and a mom and a wife, you just spend so much time, at least I spend so much time, trying to be good at all those things, trying to be good at relationships and a good mom and a good citizen of the world and also try and fit into the jeans and look good on the red carpet. And sometimes you just have to go you know what, something’s got to slide here. I need some French fries.”

She went on, “Let It Go” is a “hope that you never let fear or shame keep you from celebrating the unique people that you are.”

As women we push ourselves to do it all. Play with our kids more, yell less. Cook healthy meals, avoid sugar. Encourage responsibility, don’t nag. Listen more, text less. Sing louder. Pray deeper. Impart praise, dodge judgement. Call home daily, equally cherish the present, and our roots.

Ultimately, the more we “Let Go” of the superfluous stuff, compounded worries, and useless anger, the closer we’ll come to knowing our true, best selves.

Thank you NPR for making every day better.

Dig Deep: Just go on the run, it will stink at the beginning and glorify you in the end.

Lenten Prayer: Let go, let God.

40 Reflections – #9: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Today we lost a lizard.

We’re taking care of our neighbor’s pets and somehow, the lid of the terrarium came off, and this morning the gecko was gone. We looked in all the dark places we thought he would hide. Behind the curtains, along the molding, under beds. But the little guy just wouldn’t show his face, plus the cats weren’t talking (suspicious), so we had to stop looking for the moment.

That’s the challenge in anything, when you come to the realization you have no control over a situation. If a dog is lost there are signs to post, and numbers to call, but a lizard is a lone warrior. He has to be strong, stealthy, and smart in that little body with no one to hold a leash or place a chip inside. We paused our search and prayed to St. Anthony to help us find the lizard and of course St. Francis. After all, whether someone’s pet is a three-inch gecko or a 150-pound Great Dane, it still brings joy and unconditional love to our lives.

As I pushed aside socks under the bed looking for this little guy, I thought about the days when all we wanted to do was climb into the quietest, sun-filled spot in our world and just sit. Free from the buzz of the phone, the worry in our hearts, and the stress each day potentially brings. Perhaps that’s what our gecko friend is doing now.

Tomorrow we’ll look again. Up on ceilings, under couches, and on window sills. Maybe, just maybe he’ll be back home – after all, home should always be the safe place we share with those we love. Faith always leads us home.

Dig Deep: Go for a run with your dog today. They give us so much love!

Lenten Challenge: Pray to St. Francis for all the lost pets and their owners searching for them.

40 Reflections – #8:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

I had a post started for today, but was redirected both physically and mentally toward what makes my every day complete. My children.

Bedtime in our home has become a sacred time. It is when the day’s silly moments, deepest questions, and emotional tribulations bubble up and I’m ready to listen.

When the kids were younger, there were questions after prayers. I would stand in the hallway like a professor at a podium and take all inquiries. “What are we doing tomorrow?”, “Will it be cold?”, “Should we play soccer or baseball first?”, “When does the pool open?”. “Can we make waffles in the morning?”.

Then the medical mysteries. Most days, thank God, our kids stay healthy aside from a few ‘must-have’ Band Aids. But at bedtime — BAM! The ailments roll in after the final Amen. “My arm/leg/knee/head/elbow hurts!”

In today’s unsettling world, our kid’s questions vary in topic: “Who will I eat lunch with on the first day of school?”, “Will the teacher understand if I didn’t annotate my bibliography?”, “Why is there so much drama with girls?”, “Will we travel for spring break?”, “Can you pick me up early from school?”. “Pleeeease?”

Then the recent doozies: “Why are kids being shot in their schools?” “Will that happen to us?” “Will I get in trouble if I walk out and protest against gun violence?”

Sometimes they give you just the bitter truth, “I’m scared”.

I consider bedtime my prime listening opportunity, because, quite frankly, I don’t have answers. Sure, I can console after a messy friendship issue, and confirm the weather will be warm enough for shorts, but when the queries are beyond anyone’s grasp at understanding, I kneel by their bedside one more time and we say an extra prayer for lives lost, families broken, and those kids in the world who feel so terribly alone.

Dig Deep: Pray a Rosary on your next run.

Lenten Challenge: Always take the time to listen to your children and those you love. They are reaching out for a reason.

Run on Moms and Friends and hug your loved ones.

40 Reflections – #7:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Trust comes in all forms

Not unlike any other morning in our home, today there was a kitchen debate. Some days it’s over who finished the jelly, who hasn’t made their lunch, or why(!) do we only have whole wheat flour to make pancakes? Today, the queries surrounded one particular gallon of milk.

Lately, our kids drink less milk, using it mainly for shakes and cereal, so our supply has been greater than our demand. As the lone, unopened gallon of milk was brought to the table, the sell-by date was announced, followed by “Uh-oh, the milk is old!” Not one to waste food, I pointed out the date was “just yesterday”, AND the milk was “not even open yet”. I instructed the kids to open it, and I’d give it the ‘ole mom whiff. After about 5 minutes of wrestling with the lid and seal, the milk was open. I smelled it, gave it the standard “it’s fiiiine” accompanied by a nonchalant hand wave. Still unconvinced, two of our children waited by the milk with trepidation. Their pause reminded me of when I would hear the incessent “chk chk chk” of our pressure cooker as a kid, anticipating it to explode, scattering beans all over the kitchen – which never happened.

Meanwhile, one of our children who had caught maybe 50% of the “old milk” conversation had his cereal and was ready to eat. Never one to miss a meal, he poured his milk, said prayers, and filled his spoon. Poised over her brother, our daughter asked, “How is it?” “Does it taste okay?” Still chewing, he gave the milk a thumbs up. Sighs of relief were heard, and the milk would remain another day.

In the midst of all the arguing, yelling, and rolling eyes, brothers and sisters have a tacit trust in each other. They trust their diaries won’t be read, the brownie they saved won’t be eaten, and the secret they confided will remain sacred. More importantly, they trust sour milk will be discovered by a loving brother, sparing them the gag and cringe.

This faith in one another, family, and God hold us together, weather be damned.

Full Disclosure: I too trust the milk is “fiiiine”, but why not make a really big batch of pudding and use it up? No waste allowed, and I’ll clear the slate for a new debate tomorrow morning.

Dig Deep: Find out more about milk and Sell-by-Date here.

Lenten Prayer: Prayer for Trust

O Christ Jesus, when all is darkness and we feel our weakness and helplessness, give us the sense of Your presence, Your love, and Your strength. Help us to have perfect trust in Your protecting love and strengthening power, so that nothing may frighten or worry us, for, living close to You, we shall see Your hand, Your purpose, Your will through all things.
(By St. Ignatius of Loyola, 1491-1556)

40 Reflections – #6:  40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Driving home today with our kids, in our new-to-us Buick, the phone rang and I answered pressing the accept button on the fancy screen thinking it was my husband. Instead of the happy hubby “Hello!”, I heard an all-business voice booming from the Bose speakers. “This is Sondra calling from the Mammogram Scheduling Center, I have an order here to schedule your next mammogram.” I could only imagine how many times this office had called over the last few months to schedule, but not recognizing the number, I let it go to voicemail.

So when this call came in (even though I had extra ears in the car) I knew I should proceed, as it would be absolutely foolish and irresponsible if I didn’t schedule. As the woman pressed further for verification of birthday, address, etc., I asked my technologically savvy son to try and switch the phone out of speaker mode to perhaps provide a little privacy, but there was no time.

The series of questions began – are you pregnant? Do you have breast implants? Any concerns about your breasts over the last few months? The questions continued and I had to giggle. My kids rarely watch PG-13 movies, yet they had just heard the word breast 39 times coupled with a full conversation about my breast health.

I continued to make the appointment, hollered out answers, the kids snickered, and life continued.

Bottom line:

• Always, always make your appointments even if you have an audience while scheduling.

• Our lives are too important to our family and friends to overlook our health.

• Early detection saves lives.

Dig Deep: Schedule your annual physical and mammogram today!

Lenten Challenge: Pray for those who do not have access to health care.