Tag: life

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Holding on to Childhood by a Thread

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#20 Lenten Reflections

I wrote this years ago -I hope you enjoy it.

Since my son, Dexter was 16 months old, he loved laying his head on anything to rest. One day he raced over to where I was feeding his baby brother, Zavier. Dexter did the quick toddler stop and rested his head on my lap. At the moment, I had a burp cloth ready for after the feeding, but when I reached down to use it, my sweet Dexter’s head was resting on top of it, eyes drowsily shutting. He looked perfectly comfortable. So, as all good mothers do, I used my shirt to burp his brother. After that day and for years following, Dexter slept with, traveled, and kept it by his pillow every day.

The duck-printed cloth had been transformed into something special. Dexter’s “Burp”. That’s what we named his buddy. Luckily, when these particular burp cloths were given as a gift — it was a two-pack. So, thinking ahead, I squirreled away the “Back Up Burp” (another named piece of material), just in case “Burp” was lost. (Yes, I saw the movie “Mr. Mom” and knew we should ween him from a security blanket-type appendage. But, we can all agree that despite all the teasing from Lucy, Linus seemed to be just fine with his blue blanket in tow.)

Throughout the years, Burp got lost in the covers, and we’d hunt and shake blankets and pillows, always to find it tucked on the side of the bed, tossed to the floor, or swaddling his stuffed lamb. He found comfort in that little cloth. And quiet. And calm.

Dexter is bright. As a kid, he was the guy that would take apart the engine, and reassemble it flawlessly; find wood, whittle it down, and make whatever was on his mind. He would ask over and over for things his friends had, and finally, just made them himself. Like the trailer for his bike, lacrosse shaft, bow, arrow, quiver, rubber band bracelet loom, paracord bracelets, phyton-type necklace, bike ramp, small car, tent, longboard, holster, a belt fashioned from a bike tire, and, fidgets made from bike chains.

You see like most people, Dexter gets antsy. Call him a kinetic learner, busy, jumpy, or just a fun kid –or you can cram him into the nearly 12% bunch of 12–18-year-old boys who are diagnosed with ADHD. Whatever it is, he’s Dexter. Smart, amazing, and so cognizant of his need to strategize, move, and find comfort in who he is, that “burp” just became a part of him, and us.

As the years passed, Dexter got bigger, and Burp began to get thinner and more waif-like than a potato chip, so I decided I should swap out the old for the new. I was sure most parents and childhood experts would advise against it, perhaps saying I was encouraging a rare “cotton cloth co-dependent behavior.” Despite my thoughts, I reached into my “everything in my pockets at the end of the day” top drawer — pushed aside special rocks, matchbox cars, doll parts, and legos, and in the waaaay back, I pulled out a bright white cloth with yellow ducks ready for their turn in the pond. In its place, I tucked the now fowl-less cloth in the drawer. Truth be told, it was his ninth birthday. Yes, nine. Not months, years.

Fast forward three years — and after prayers one night Dexter holds out what looks like one of my dad’s handkerchiefs I used to iron — and asks, “Mama, will you please fix this?” I looked at Burp, looked back at Dexter, and said, “Of course I will.” After unknotting the frayed edges, soaking, and drying it, I began to sew. I was slowly piecing together each strand, noticing how much smaller it was and thinking about how much bigger Dexter was at the time. I finished and held it up as if it were a priceless quilt. I thought about the many memories in one piece of fabric, so much security, and love. I knew for a boy like Dexter who had been pining to grow up fast, buy the dreaded motorcycle, and play by adult rules, clinging to his childhood was just as important to him. So I thought, — I’ll mend, sew, stitch, and hold together as much of his boyhood as I can, for as long as possible. “Dexter, Burp is ready!” He came in quickly, said thank you, and zoomed out rubbing it on his face.

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

Windy Days & Baseball

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#15 Lenten Reflections

Last week (and tonight) it was a crazy windy day at the Lake Pointe Baseball Complex in Emerson, GA. As I sat watching our son’s games, my hair whipped all over the place. No hair tie. Which is rare for me, like most girls or women with ponytail-ready hair, my wrist dons at least one hair tie. But that morning during class, I had a 4-year-old student who found it comforting and perhaps delicious to suck on the ends of her hair. So I helped put her damp, yet shiny hair in a very high ponytail so she could sing along to our Spanish songs.

Anyway, as I watched pitchers struggle and fly balls change direction like the wind in a sail, I wondered how these gales affected the game. So I did some research and discovered a guy named John Farley, the Chief Technology Officer for Weather Applied Metrics (see this link for an information video). The company measures weather impacts on baseball (and sports in general) using Computational Fluid Dynamics (CFD) modeling, standard trajectory physics, and other meteorological analysis. In short, they study sports and wind.

According to Farley,

“If the wind is blowing hard, that’s the most significant impact. A headwind, combined with a downdraft, can shorten a fly ball hit to the wall by as much as 60 feet. A tailwind, combined with an updraft can lengthen it by as much as 45 feet.”

He went on to say since baseballs absorb moisture from the air “the difference in distance between very dry air and very wet air is roughly 50 feet. That’s because a wet ball is slightly heavier and spongier, so it doesn’t come off the bat as fast. On a hotter day, the air is less dense and so a ball can travel as much as 30 feet farther, compared to a cold day.”

I got kind of lost in the technical jargon, but if I had to play in the wind, I’d prefer a tailwind on a hot day.

Windy at Wrigley Field

I found an example of a windy day at Wrigley Field in Chicago.

Apparently, when the wind is blowing the field is considered a “pitcher’s park”. The better the pitchers, the lower the score. When the wind is blowing out, especially if it is a brisk wind, Wrigley Field becomes a launching pad.

According to The Philidelphia Tale blog, one of the wildest games ever was played in 1979 between the Cubs and the Phillies. The Phillies staked starter Randy Lerch to a seven-run lead in the top of the first inning. He never made it through the bottom of the first. Long fly balls turned into home runs. Short fly balls approached or reached the warning track. Flares flew over the infield and landed well short of outfielders playing near the warning track.

A parade of pitchers from both teams got shelled and watched ERAs soar. The Phillies finally won the game 23–22.

Players take on the wind: Look at the Flag for guidance

Larry Bowa, Phillies shortstop: “I remember the flag was stiff. After I left (Philadelphia) and played there (1982-85), I never saw the flag there ever blow like that. It was nonstop. Usually late in the game, it would stop a little bit.”

Ray Burris, Cubs relief pitcher: “When I would drive into the ballpark on Addison Ave., there was a business that had a United States flag on it. I would always check that flag to see which way that wind was blowing. When it was blowing straight toward the expressway, that was good (for pitchers). That meant the wind was blowing straight in from center field to home plate. Now it was going to take a cannon to get that ball out of there, but if it was blowing toward Lake Michigan, oh my goodness. It was unbelievable. That was just the elements you had to deal with.”

Mike Schmidt, Phillies third baseman: “There were days you played at Wrigley Field you couldn’t even think about a home run, wind would be blowing straight in. You could kill a ball and it would barely make the warning track and it’d have no chance. I’ve seen home run balls get caught at shortstop before. That’s what is unique and fun about Wrigley Field. When you get up in the morning and you’re downtown, you know which way the wind is going to blow from the flags on the buildings.”

What I learned:

It’s been one week since the last windy game and here I sit again on the third base line at Field 9. Rain is coming down, the flag is flying straight out and it’s about 38 degrees. The wind is whipping everything in site, the boys are on the field warming up and you would think it was a sunny day the way they are jogging around and yelling, “We love the cold!” I say a silent prayer that the one thing the wind (and coaches) can’t whip away is Zavier’s confidence.

I couldn’t be more grateful to have a destination. To be lucky enough to come and see my son play his last season of high school baseball. All I can do now is pray he plays, plays well, and when (yes, I said when) he hits the ball, I hope the wind is on his side.

Thanks for joining me, I am so grateful to you all-

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Mi Madrina – Leap-Day Baby 1936

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

Lenten Reflections #13

On February 29, 1936, my Madrina (Godmother), Eddie Laura was born.

Last leap day, February 29, 2020, I called her up on her landline to wish her a happy Leap Year Birthday. She had just turned 84 and she told me she loved her morning walks, going to mass, and her cozy home by the mountains.

One month later, her daughter called me and told me she passed away. It wasn’t COVID nor was she ailing.

She fell. She was alone. I was heartbroken.

As a tribute to her, I revised a piece I wrote in 2020 about her undying love for family, faith, friends, and well, poker.

IMG_1288.jpeg
This is my baby book given to me by my Godparents.

In Leap Year math terms, my Godmother had 21 true birthdays. So Leap Day was especially busy for her. Let’s just say if an angel got their wings every time her phone rang on her true birthday, the halo business would be booming. I was among her callers who sang the traditional Happy Birthday and a few lines of Las Mañanitas, her favorite birthday song.

When I spoke to her last, I updated her on the kids and our treks from swim meets to tennis matches, and then baseball games. In lockstep, she reminded me to enjoy every moment of their childhood, because it goes too fast. “What are their ages?” she asked. When I said, 17, 15, and 14, she jumped in and as if reading from a mom script, said,  “Oh college is coming up, that’s expensive.” She continued, “It’s when they go away that’s hard.” I knew she was referring to the outrageous cost attached to college tuition, but I also knew from our previous conversations that her statement meant more. She was always very candid about being a mom and college approaching meant empty beds, smaller meals to cook, and homes that were way too quiet.

When we would chat, her sing-songy, NM accent reminded me of home and I mirrored it. My kids always say when I come back from Albuquerque I have a strong accent. I tell them it’s just English and Spanish finding their harmony. The beautiful words of Spanglish bring solidarity and trust to our New Mexican culture.

I listened to how Eddie Laura recalled life as a mom…stirring red chili on the stove, flipping tortillas on the comal, sewing, quilting, dancing, and caring for her four children. As she spoke, I could hear how quickly life’s pages turn. One moment, instead of going to baseball games or PTA meetings, you’re headed to airports to pick up your kids who are “just visiting”. I can’t help but think of how she felt that first Sunday morning at church when she didn’t have to look for a large section on a church pew, but instead, was able to slip in at the end of a row because she was alone.

She told me she prays for me every night and every morning. When she said it, I always felt my body relax. Somehow simply knowing that someone who leads with faith was putting in a good word with God for me – made me feel cloaked in love. To me, Eddie Laura was like one of those saints Catholics pray to for everything from gallstones to lost glasses. We know they have our backs. That was my Godmother. I knew her prayers for me were deep, no-nonsense, and true.

When cleaning out her home, my sister and her daughter found lots of little treasures around her home. Chief among them were poker winnings stashed inside a box of quilt pieces. Her daughter told us she always asked her mom how she did at the casino and Eddie Laura would reply, “I’ll never tell.” My Madrina knew what she held close, whether it was cash from playing Blackjack, memories from marrying her high school sweetheart, or the priceless days of raising her children. I was so blessed to have such a loving Godmother.

Feliz Cumpleaños Madrina may you be at peace up in heaven, perhaps dealing a hand of 7-card-stud on that massive Last Supper table. God Bless.

What I learned:

Chances of being born on a leap day are about one in 1,461, according to the BBC. In fact, some astrologers say leap-year babies may possess special talents and luck. I agree. When I look at the picture of the day I was baptized, I think about all my Godmother has taught me…

Cherish time with my family – knowing they will eventually live under different roofs; keep faith at the forefront; and hope our kids will thrive with credence, compassion, and kindness (and always find their way home — I added that one).

Gracias, Madrina.

Thank you for joining me and Happy Leap Day,

❤️Lucretia

Posted in Family, Faith and Fitness

Connecting with Mom and Dad

Posted on by Lucretia Cahill

#3 Lenten Reflections

Tonight I dialed my parent’s cell phone to check in. As the youngest and furthest away from them I have few tasks other than feeling guilty that I am so far away. So tonight it was my job to make sure they ate their dinner. My sister had sent a picture of the roast, potatoes, and carrots she had left and all I had to do was remind them to eat. The first attempt to call ended with a lot of ringing and no response. Then I called the land line knowing out of nostalgia and habit, they usually pick this one up. Dad with a cheery, “Hola!” or “Howdy!” hoping whoever is calling has a lot of time to chat, or Mom with a stern “Hello” – an edge in her voice that says – I may be older, but don’t you dare try to scam me into giving you any personal information or money!

“¡Hola!” dad bellowed. “Luc-did you just call Mom’s little iPad? She was playing Solitaire and we heard it ringing.”

“I did!” I said loudly, joining Dad’s energetic banter.

“Can you call it again?” Dad asked. “Sure thing Dad”. “Thanks!” He said. I called again and there they were – well all I could see was the top of Mom’s freshly permed white hair and half of Dad’s face. But I loved it.

Dad started in, “Wow! Look at that picture! Nice and big! How did you call the iPad? Luc, can I pick up the cell phone and use that for the call too?” Dad was curious, always trying to figure out how things worked, and loving the fact that they could see a big picture. “It’s all connected” I explained. “All the devices will respond when someone calls if you’re using them.” He seemed satisfied with my not-so-technical answer and continued, “So what’s going on there? How’s your weather?”

I caught them up on the kids – the boys popped into the room to say hi to them and they commented on Zavier’s curly hair. Mom said, “You used to have hair like that Dad!” Dad chimed in, “When I HAD hair!” Then I pointed out Dexter’s new mustache. “He’s already shaving?” asked Dad. “He’s 19,” I told him. “Hmm, was I shaving at 19?” He asked himself.

We went back and forth for a bit and I asked if they ate. “Did we eat, Dad?” Mom asked. “We ate a late lunch.” He confirmed. “And you know mom, she eats 5,000 bowls of cereal in the morning. Then we eat a big lunch and snack for dinner.” Mom confirmed. “Yes, Lucretia, I guess we already ate.”

“Okay, well I’m in charge of reminding you to eat dinner. I have a picture of what you have to eat.” Dad jumped in, “What is it?” I pulled up the picture – “looks like roast, potatoes, and carrots…yum!”

“Okay,” Dad said, “Just tell the girls we ate. Maybe we’ll have some Cheerios.” Mom jumped in, “Yes! Dad just discovered he loves the Honey Nut Cheerios so now I have to share.” They went on to tell a story about a bent-up box of Cheerios they got at the Commissary for $2.00. My hubby Justin suggested they might want to “bend” some other boxes and try and get them at a discount also. Dad said he was thinking the same thing. Mom interjected saying, “Well we were planning on going to heaven, but I’m not sure about it if we will now.” We all chuckled and Mom said her stomach would be sore from all the laughing.

Always melancholy at the end of our conversations, I said – “Alright, don’t forget to eat! And Dad, take your medicine. (Dad tends to put all the medicine in his shirt pocket and carry them around all day, considering this his way of “taking them”.)

You need your multivitamin, your eye stuff, and the baby Aspirin. Always the jokester Dad said, “I can’t hear her anymore, can you Mom?”

“Daaaad! You stinker!” I said laughing.

We signed off, “Love you mija, time to light the fireplace.” Dad said.

“Love you, say hi to everyone,” Mom said calmly.

“Bye guys, I love you.” – I blew a kiss and made a loud kissing sound hoping somehow they felt my love for them coming through that little iPad that not only can be used for Solitaire but also talking to us. I’ll remind them again the next time they answer my call on it, as I always do. I sat back on the couch praying there would be many more calls ahead. Because every day is better after talking to them.

What I learned:

I share this story because this is my takeaway from the day. This conversation. Yes, out of the 1,440 minutes in one day, the 30 minutes on the phone with Mom and Dad will keep me optimistic and give me comfort knowing I have these two people still out there rooting for me, laughing with me, and even though they are forgetting to drink their Pedialyte and can’t remember their neighbor’s name, they still know who I am, their youngest gal. What a blessing they are.

It is so worth it to take the time to talk, listen, and share with people. Especially the ones who make you feel loved.

Also, take the time to pray. For yourself. For everyone. Pray for the family who just lost their son to a freak accident on the football field, pray for the second grader who just found out her little sister has leukemia, pray for the single mom who just lost her job and is starting from scratch, pray for the guy driving the Camaro who cut you off this morning, pray for those who appear to be happy but you just know that somewhere in their heart they are ailing.

Remember to take at least 30 minutes today (out of 1440) and exercise, pray, and connect.

Thank you for joining me,

~Lucretia