Tag: #books

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

The blank page…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections #31: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

Tonight is one of those nights when I stare at a blank page. No clue what to write. Guess I should have planned rather than gone organic. Let’s see…

Yesterday, I watched a woodpecker balance upside down in a very acrobatic foraging pose, using its tail feathers like a tripod and clinging effortlessly to peck the heck out of the nuts and seeds we had out. I mean, even this guy went in with a plan, and I’m sitting here with a blank page!

I arrived at the airport this early morning, thankfully with lots of time before my flight, as security was packed. I felt like I won the lottery when my bag did not get flagged, and I could lace up my shoes and head to gate A19.

As I settled in my aisle seat, my window neighbor had arrived. He was an elderly gentleman with only his Sudoku book and a pencil capped with a red eraser marking his last page.

“Sudoku will pass the time”, he said.

He had zero electronic devices to set on airplane mode, no earphones taken from the flight attendant to plug in and watch whatever Delta is offering on the screens dotting the seatbacks. Instead, he stared out the window like we used to, watching luggage load and busy workers shuffle around the tarmac.

We had the loveliest conversation. Turns out he’s a motorhome guy with fascinating stories. Which I will share…soon!

I arrived at my childhood home to help take care of my parents. Mom recognized me (thank you Jesus), and Dad asked if the flight was full as he had my last 1,583 flights prior. Ahhhh…normalcy.

Now, my blank page is full, and so is my heart. More tomorrow.

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Bedtime + Kids = so many questions

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

40 Reflections – #30: 40 days of raw recollections during the Lenten Season

It is quiet at home tonight. Justin and the dogs are asleep, the Braves are on TV, and I thought back to the memorable, noisy nights when the kids were home. I looked back on a few older pieces I wrote and found this recollection of our unforgettable nightly routine:

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

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

When the kids were younger, there were questions following 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, there were the medical mysteries. Most days, 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!”

Their questions vary: “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?” And…Sometimes, they simply give you the bitter truth and say, “I’m scared”.

What I learned:

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. However, when the questions are beyond comprehension, 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.

What I continue to learn:

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

Here’s to Another Good Day!

Thanks for joining me,

Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

What does it mean to be Real?

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#18 Lenten Reflections

In the age of Botox and incessant social media, a story about authenticity might seem so 1900’s. However, my memory of the classic Velveteen Rabbit was jarred when I pondered my own search for meaning and what is real. No, I’m not going to get Botox…I mean, should I? No way. I mean, I’ll have three kids in college next year, and I don’t want them to forget what I look like when they fly back to the nest.

In the beloved children’s book, The Velveteen Rabbit, Margery Williams wrote, “Real isn’t how you are made… It’s a thing that happens to you,” In this story, the stuffed and somewhat feeble rabbit pined for connection, and love from a boy, but was tossed aside when other snazzy, noise-making toys were found under the Christmas tree.

Sometimes I have a Velveteen Rabbit Day and feel patchy, fragile, and a little weak in the joints. Those days when my gray roots are trying to take over the rest of my mop, or maybe I discover my jeans really are “mom jeans” or the moments I wish there was an epidural for standing up from the crisscross applesauce position.

That’s when I have to remember to embrace what is real — that sorrow is unavoidable, that joy is fleeting even when all the kids are home and laughter is nonstop, or when I talk to Mom and Dad and they are feeling “Great!”. Real is when time dissolves into quicksand and we must stand shoulder to shoulder taking one step at a time to make sense of the mess, together.

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit.

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’

‘Does it happen all at once, like being wound up,’ he asked, ‘or bit by bit?’

‘It doesn’t happen all at once,’ said the Skin Horse.

What I learned:

So even when we feel loose in the ligaments, and marred with physical and spiritual dents and dings, we should remember we are also in the process of becoming Real…but it really will take a long time.

Thanks for joining me,

❤️Lucretia

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, Parenting/Running/Pets

The moment you realize you’re on your daughter’s group text…

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

As I sifted through my email today, unsubscribing from Groupon, Domino’s Pizza, and DSW for the 37th time, I heard a ping on my phone. I glanced down and saw I was added to a group chat.

Let’s see…is it a bunch of moms from the PTA meeting last night? Uh oh, what did I volunteer for? Maybe it’s the 8th-grade dance committee.

Clearly, my choices are limited and telling.

Wait…the top of the text said APUSH…where have I heard that…APUSH…APUSH…APUSH.

Oh! AP United States History. That’s right, teenagers are “SO TIRED” they’ve given all their classes nicknames. APUSH, AP Psych, AP Calc, AP Bio, LIT.

Clever.

Suddenly, “APUSH me OVER A CLIFF!” with a smiley emoji lit up the screen.

Now that’s funny, I thought. Oh good, it’s a fun group.

Maybe I signed up for updates for Cora’s history class?

After a few minutes, I realized I didn’t recognize anyone on the list UNTIL I saw Cora’s name float across the screen.

Uh Oh. It turns out I was inadvertently added to the APUSH study group text. What happened was this, back in middle school, when Cora was “the only one in the ENTIRE world” without a phone, her friends used my phone number to call her. So she was listed as: “Cora’s Mom” which of course was my phone number.

Cora told me as she was laughing about this with her friends at school, another long-time friend who used to call me “Cora’s Mom” said, “don’t delete that number, she’s a good resource!”

I love being “Cora’s Mom”.

About 30 seconds later I received a message:

You have been removed from the group. 

Well, I guess I was APUSHED out…good thing, that class is WAY too much work. 

 

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness, Parenting/Running/Pets

Cokie Roberts: a mom & legend

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

A few years ago, I was volunteering at 90.1 WABE, in Atlanta, during an NPR spring fundraiser. I glanced up from my seat and spotted Cokie Roberts leaving after an interview. Without hesitation, I quickly placed my phone on unavailable, pulled off my headset and dashed over to say hello.

She was absolutely lovely.

We spoke for a moment about Washington, DC, and the coincidence that we were both members of Blessed Sacrament Church off Chevy Chase Circle. In fact, Father D’Silva, a tender-hearted priest who married Justin and I also married her children.

As she picked up her bags to go, I asked an elderly gentleman who was exiting the building, to take our picture. His hand wiggled when he held my phone WAY out in front of him pointing it more toward the sky than at us, but somehow he managed to get a nice blurry photo.

I was elated. 

It’s been almost four months since Cokie Roberts died from breast cancer complications, but the legend of her spirit, her unwavering support of women and her passion for politics still grace the halls of the U.S. Capitol. Equally valued was her voice on being a mother and raising children.

In her book, We Are Our Mothers’ Daughters she says,

Caretaking–that’s the common thread that runs through these stories. No matter what else women are doing, we are also “mothering” –taking care of somebody or something, and, for the most part, doing it joyously. That’s what women have been doing from the beginning and, I believe, will continue to do. I think we’ve been doing it awfully well for a very long time.”

Cokie: a mom and a legend.

I keep her picture on the desktop of my computer to remind me what a true model of poise, integrity, and professionalism looks like.

It was an honor to meet such a stellar woman and as a mom and “writer” I value what she stood for and cherish that brief moment she took to chat with me.

IN THE WORDS OF COKIE ROBERTS:

A lot of women have come to understand that you can’t just show up and say I’m unhappy, you have to then go out and do something.