Thoughts at the End of a Busy Day

*Did all the children who got braces put on their teeth yesterday wake their mothers up at 6 a.m., complaining of bad dreams about alligators?

Did all the mothers click their teeth at their children, telling them they merely have their own choppers too much on their minds? Did they all enjoy snuggling up with said children and getting one more hour of sleep?


* I love my doctor. He delivered all of my babies, saw me through my many miscarriages, is pro-life, doesn't prescribe things a good Catholic shouldn't prescribe, and lets me sit there and ask my questions at a leisurely pace, as if no other patient in the world is waiting for him anywhere. He lets me talk and question and wonder before I have to don the lovely paper garments, when I'm still wearing my normal, dignified mom clothes. I so like that.

And, guess what else? As I'm lying on a table today, having my first bone density test, and thinking that I'm so very blessed to have this doctor, I glance over at the wall, and what do I see? A framed picture of the Blessed Mother. That is just too perfect.

*You know when they say "Some Assembly Required"? Why don't they just skip the Big Lie and say, "This thing will require so much assembly that you would rather be trussed up and tossed in the river than go through this torture. You will thrice swear that panel D does not belong anywhere on this thing, and that the way we've shown you to insert it has to be wrong, and that those dowels are decidedly in the wrong place. You will despise us. You will wonder why any company could find it morally acceptable to print instructions that consist of pictures and arrows instead of words. And, as you stifle mean and nasty thoughts about us, you and your husband will promise each other that you will never, ever, ever again buy a piece of 'assembly required' furniture. But, we know you will. Until we meet again .... "

*Ramona really, truly, oh-so-very-much needs the "five minute warning" before being told it's time to leave a friend's house. "Five minute warning" is my secret weapon and it often leads to happy and compliant children.

Today, I forgot my secret weapon. Moms ... take heed. Learn from my failures. Don't forget your secret weapons.

Which Byzantine Ruler Are You?

You’re St. Theodora!

Theodora was the wife of the ninth-century emperor Theophilus and mother of the future emperor Michael III. Theodora ruled the lands after her iconoclastic husband died. She labored to overturn his heretical policies, chiefly by summoning a council that upheld the veneration of images of Christ and the saints. For this, she is herself honored as a saint by the Orthodox Church. Her feast day is February 11.

Find out which Byzantine ruler you are at The Way of the Fathers!

H/T: Bookworm

The Hungry Hummingbird

Ramona and I have been enjoying this book, The Hungry Hummingbird, by April Pulley Sayre.

The author is new to us, but I'll be looking for more of her books. The illustrations in this one are just lovely.

And, after a quick visit to the library website, I see that our library is loaded with her stuff. Can't wait for our next library day!

Roma Whitefish, the Yankees, Caravaggio and Pizza

We headed down to Kansas City the other day, to visit some family.

While there, we relished my sister-in-law's fantastic cooking (how is it that my kids have so many aunts and family friends who are great cooks? I have some catching up to do. That fish was simple but simply delicious.)

We also went here,

to Kauffman Stadium, where Atticus received his birthday present: watching his beloved Yankees play the KC Royals. (The best gift would've been watching the Yankees play in Yankee Stadium, but that's not in our birthday budget at present. And, sadly, A-Rod did not add to the festivities by hitting his 500th home run that night. Still, it was the Yankees ....)

Perhaps the real gift was that I sat with my husband through this game, in extremely hot weather, with the sun blazing in our faces for the first two hours or so, and I did not complain. Hey, now ... that may not sound like much of a gift to most of you. It may seem like nothing more than what any good wife would do. Well, yeah. But what you are not aware of is my deepest, innermost feelings about the heat. So, my cheerfulness was, in reality, a true gift (if I do say so myself. )

The next day, it was my turn. We visited the Nelson-Atkins Museum of Art. Here are all the kids at the entrance:


Although Ramona couldn't fully appreciate it ("This is a Mommy Day, when Mommy gets everything she wants," she whined), it was quite a treat. Especially when Atticus's sweet sister (an accomplished Mommy herself, and a keen discerner of near-meltdown in five-year-olds) very kindly offered to take Ramona to the fountain, where she could toss pennies to her heart's content, while Atticus and I meandered through the sublime and the beautiful. Thank you, dear sister-in-law. That, too, was a gift.

I was especially thrilled to see this amazing Caravaggio, Saint John the Baptist in the Wilderness:



We topped the day off with Uno's pizza and hot fudge sundaes, and Ramona was no longer complaining.

Good food, good company, and a nephew who inspired Betsy with his talent for climbing the walls like Spiderman ... could you ask for more from a trip to Kansas City?

Well, maybe just one thing ... baseball in the fall. Without the July sun.

Not that I'm complaining.

News on the Georgia Martyrs

Via Paul Thigpen:

"A new article on the Georgia Martyrs appears in the current issue of This Rock magazine."

The article can be found at this link at Catholic Culture.

Pray for the success of the cause of these martyrs for the sanctity of marriage. You can learn more about them here and here.

Kansas City, Kansas City, There We Went

And now we're home.

Updates soon.

In the meantime, here's a snippet from today's Gospel.

Isn't God a good dad?

“And I tell you, ask and you will receive;
seek and you will find;
knock and the door will be opened to you.
For everyone who asks, receives;
and the one who seeks, finds;
and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. "

~~ Luke 11: 9-10

Ramona on Justice

(backstory: Betsy is currently wearing spacers, in preparation for her soon-to-be-installed braces.)

Ramona: "Mommy, can I have some gum? "

Me: "Yes, you may."

Ramona: "Unle-e-e-e-ss ... you think that wouldn't be fair to Betsy. Because she doesn't get to have any?"

Me: "Oh, honey, that is so sweet that you would think of that! But, you may go ahead and have some gum. Betsy will understand. You are so sweet."

Ramona (sweetly, of course) : "I try to be."

As she skipped over to the cupboard, she added, "I try to be fair, too."

Want something for nothing?

Thanks to the generosity of many in the blogosphere, free stuff is all over the place, just waiting to be given away.

Via Lissa at The Lilting House, I saw that Shannon, at Rocks in My Dryer, is hosting the Dog Days of Summer Bloggy Giveaway.

Lissa is giving away a copy of Amo Amas Amat & More. And, the list of other giveaways is ginormous (which counts as an actual word now, you know) and can be found at this Rocks in My Dryer post.

Enjoy!

Blogger's Lament

You know how it is when
your life is really busy
and you don't have time to blog
yet you feel compelled to blog,
but you feel guilty if you sit down to blog,
because you don't really have time to blog this week,
but you feel bad that you don't have time to blog,
and, oh, my gracious, you really want to blog,
but blogging has to take a back seat to everything else,
because you're really a very good and realistic mommy
and you hope to teach your children
not to put things like blogging
before family and duties and chores
and other writing that is higher on the writing food chain,
and essentials,
for heaven's sake,
but, ohmigosh, you so wish you had time to sit down
and compose those meaty posts that are brewing
in your blog-deprived brain,
and so you go to Google Reader, hoping to at least
link to some other bloggers --
you know what I mean, the really good ones who never make excuses like this --
and at least throw together a lovely, linky post of other people's writing
but you keep getting the message:
"Problem loading page" ...

You know those days?

You're looking at one.

You know you're raising a Catholic when ...

... she has the cat do the sign of the Cross and say a prayer before she lets him eat his cat food.

Of course, Betsy didn't really "have" the cat do the sign of the Cross. She moved his poor paw up and down and back and forth. And, he didn't really "say" a prayer (unless you count that growl.) She did that part for him.

Still.

It was such a sweet little thing.

Dangerous, yes.

But sweet. Definitely sweet.

Ramona reflects on aging

"Mommy, I wish I were still four."

"You do? Why?"

"Because ... I was better at being four."

Please keep praying for this young man

Donna-Marie has requested prayers for this young man, and asks that we keep them up.

The initial post can be found here, and another one here.

Ramona is five years old

On her birthday, I put her to bed and whispered, "By the way .... "

"What?" she whispered back, eager to be in on the conspiracy.

"Happy birthday, one more time," I whispered.

She smiled and kissed me -- a big, smacky kiss on the cheek -- and said, "And, to seal it? A hug!" She threw her arms around me and we laughed, and she settled back in to her bed.

Looking up at me, she said, "Mommy, you're lucky to have such a daughter."

I roared.

I'll teach her humility when she's older.

For now? All I can say is "Yes, Ramona, you are so right. I am lucky to have such a daughter."

An update

Thanks so much to all who prayed for my father-in-law.

Things are looking up, and we feel quite relieved. Thank you!

Another prayer request

Please pray for my father-in-law, and I'll post updates when possible.

Thank you so much ....

Meme: 8 Things about my husband

Elaine at "A Wink and a Smile" tagged me for this one, and although I wonder if you're all tired of hearing factoids about Atticus and me, I'll tackle it anyway.

1. Atticus comes from a family of twelve children. His mother adored babies. Clearly. He has a huge family, relatives we don't even know about.

I, on the other hand, grew up in a family of three children, and each of my parents was an only child. Therefore, I grew up without aunts, uncles or cousins. I can count my entire family on two hands.

2. Atticus didn't used to eat much candy, but then I introduced him to the joys of chocolate with coffee. He still doesn't eat a lot, but he can appreciate a good combo when he tastes it.

He introduced me to the best homemade spaghetti sauce ever, his mother's recipe. He still makes it, and I still love it.

3. He's the gardener. It's thanks to Atticus that we have flowers on the front porch and tomatoes in the back yard. It is only thanks to Atticus that I even know what a Mexican sunflower looks like, that four o'clocks attract hummingbirds (and hummingbird moths,) and that Amaranthus is a plant, not a drink.

I've been known not to garden.

4. Atticus loves to run. Miles at a time.

I, on the other hand, decidedly do not love to run. I've tried it, but the distracting popping sounds from my knee whisper, "Go home ... sit down ... read a good book ... chocolate ... coffee ... " Once settled in with said good book, the voices begin to say things like, "You could really stand to lose a few pounds."

I blame him for the voices.

5. Atticus was a Marine. I grew up as an Air Force brat. However, neither of us is currently in the military.

6. Atticus's favorite poet is Wallace Stevens. Mine is Emily Dickinson. We both liked e.e. cummings, when we met, but Atticus never went through the affected-schoolgirl-phase of writing everything without capital letters in homage to e.e.

i did.

7. Atticus knows everything. Seriously. Ask him a question. Name an obscure figure from history. He's on it. He already knows and can tell you more than Wikipedia will ever dream of knowing, without stammering, "Umm ... yeah ... I've heard of that guy ...." Just try to get through a round of Trivial Pursuit with him without stomping away in disgust at the uneven playing field. His students think he's a genius. He is.

I'm not.

8. Atticus and I are astonishingly different. We made an unlikely couple. People thought it would never last, for reasons that would take seventeen memes to detail.

It lasted. And we're so happy it did.

If you're married, you're tagged.

Random quotations

"The great thing about getting older is that you don't lose all the other ages you've been. "

~~ Madeleine L'Engle

*****

"I wouldn't change one bit of it ... And besides, I like to cry. After I cry hard it's like it's morning again and I'm starting the day over .... A good night's sleep, or a ten-minute bawl, or a pint of chocolate ice cream, or all three together, is good medicine."

~~ Ray Bradbury, Dandelion Wine

*****

"You've heard of calling in sick, but have you ever called in well? It'd go something like this: you'd get the boss on the line and say, 'Listen, I've been sick ever since I started working there, but today I'm well and I won't be in anymore.'"

~~ Tom Robbins, Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

*****

"If youth did not matter so much to itself, it would never have the heart to go on."

~~ Willa Cather, Song of the Lark

*****

"Did you take this class in Existentialism by choice?"

~~ an actual dean of an actual university actually asked me this question

It's not easy being Ramona

Decked out in an old dress of mine -- something from the 80s, no doubt -- Ramona trudged into the kitchen and sighed.

"What's the matter?" I asked.

Another sigh.

"You," she said accusingly, "don't know what it's like to have to spend every day going to a robot convention and wearing shoulder pads."

She turned around and left the room.

Well, now.

She's got me pegged. I don't have a clue.

Ramona takes note of my skills and talents

"Mommy," she said, "you're the queen of plant killers."

Don't.
Ask.

Things not to do ...

... when you've been away for the weekend and have laundry, chores and errands to catch up on:

~ Blog surf. Spend too much time listening to Van Morrison.

~ Look around your living room and despair. When will you get a chance to paint it? (If you lived Life According to Jennifer, you should just dive in and do it this very minute.) Don't look at your bedroom, the kitchen, or the laundry room either. Redecorating projects haunt you from every corner, so do try to avoid them.

~ Weigh yourself.

~ Knit those socks for Atticus that you've been working on. Mistakes can happen when you're tired, you know.

~ Listen to "The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore" because, after all, you finally got it out of your head, and wasn't that a shame? Better start over.

~ Take the older kids to see the new Harry Potter movie (quick review coming soon) and let them eat so much popcorn and drink so much soda that one of them gets you up at 4 a.m. complaining of a stomachache.

~ Head out at 8 p.m. to do the errands that you should have done sooner, and take two children with you, and still expect it to be "a quick trip."

Things to do when you've been away for the weekend and have laundry, chores and errands to catch up on:

~ Laundry

~ Chores

~ Errands

We're back!

You didn't even know I was gone, did you?

We headed south (not far south: we were still in Nebraska, and no one had an accent) and visited some dear friends named -- uh, oh ... I haven't given them blog names. Hmmm. I think I'll call them Clive and Joy (can you guess the reason?)

Anyway, Clive and Joy are hosts beyond compare. They treat us like kings and queens (or, given that Atticus is the only male in the family, like a king and his queen and little princesses.) Anne-with-an-e noted, "Aunt Joy is a great cook. I can't wait to see what she'll make for us!"

I always have that same joyful anticipation, though not just for the food. It's true that Joy knows that feeding = loving. (I know it, too, but I'm just not as good at it. I sometimes tend to love by proxy, letting someone else do the cooking, such as, say, a pizza delivery place. That doesn't mean I love any less, just that I'm less talented than some of my dear friends.) But, Joy and Clive also know that nothing beats open-ended, unstructured time with good friends. Add some good conversation, a dash of wine, a favorite beer, happy children, water fights, s'mores and lots of shared memories, and you have a recipe for a great weekend.

Thank you, Clive and Joy, for fifteen years of friendship and for your always superb and gracious entertaining.

And now, because we were gone all weekend, I'm off to love my family in a different way:

I'm headed to the laundry room.

Poetry Friday

Thinking about Ramona and reading has me thinking about the best way to teach reading:

Read.

And so, in honor of reading, today's poem is "Read to Me" by Jane Yolen.

Read To Me

by Jane Yolen

Read to me riddles and read to me rhymes,
Read to me stories of magical times.
Read to me tales about castles and kings.
Read to me stories of fabulous things.
Read to me pirates and read to me knights,
Read to me dragons and dragon-book fights.
Read to me spaceships and cowboys and then,
When you are finished -- please read them again.


Today's Poetry Friday Round-up can be found here, at Chicken Spaghetti. Thanks, Susan, for hosting, and, as always, thanks, Kelly at Big A little a for Poetry Friday.

We have lots of plans coming up, so I'll be playing instead of blogging. I'll see you on Monday, and have a great weekend.

Happy Soap

Or, "How Reading Lessons Proceed at Our House."

Yesterday during bathtime, Ramona pondered the baby soap bottle. She looked at me and said, "Happy Soap."

I glanced at the bottle and said, "Oh, well, yes, I guess it is happy. The teddy bear on the label looks pretty happy, doesn't he?"

She said, "No." And, pointing to the words on the label, she said, "Ha-a-a-ppy. Right?"

I looked at it. Hypoallergenic, it said.

"Oh! Yes!" I said to Ramona, excited to see what was at play. "I can see why you thought that word was 'happy.' Look -- here's the h and an a and there's a p and a y. Those letters are all in 'happy', which is h-a-p-p-y. Happy."

She beamed.

Happily.

She has her principles

Yesterday, as we left the grocery store, Ramona was told that, no, she couldn't ride the mechanical horse. This, of course, was ruining her day, and so Betsy suggested that as Ramona climbed into her carseat she could pretend it was a horse. Becoming more animated, Betsy demonstrated that as Ramona pulled her carseat straps over her head, she could imagine that the straps were the reins, and she could bounce up and down, and in this way she could still have the fun of a pretend-horse ride.

Ramona slumped in disappointment, and said, "I can't do that."

And then, throwing her hands in the air, she said, "People will see me riding my carseat and I'll be humiliated!"

My Broken Rosary

I've been talking about plans, and in doing so, I was reminded of this piece that I wrote several years ago for New Covenant magazine. This was after our fifth miscarriage, and before we had Ramona (the four-year old mentioned here is Betsy.) It's a piece about dashed plans and a broken dream. But, it is also about renewed hope and strengthened faith, and I offer it today to anyone who has ever lost a baby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My Broken Rosary

It was November, just before Thanksgiving and I was at the doctor’s office. I was pregnant, and cautiously hoping I would carry this baby to term. Though we have two beautiful children, after multiple miscarriages I take nothing for granted. The image on the ultrasound screen was not what it should have been.

“I’m concerned it may be ectopic,” said my obstetrician, “but this early, an ultrasound can fool us.” He told me to come back in five days, as “a few days can make a huge difference in what we see.” He did his best to assure me that all would be well.

I left the office feeling frightened and terribly sad. I was seven weeks along. We should have seen a heartbeat. The possibility that "all was well" seemed remote. I prayed. I hoped. But I feared.

Five days later, the picture did look different. There was no sign of trouble in the fallopian tube, and the baby was indeed in the womb. Still, we could not detect a heartbeat. My doctor wanted to try one more ultrasound in a few more days -- couldn’t we have miscalculated the date of conception, he wondered? Not likely, I said, for a couple who knows the finer points of Natural Family Planning as well as we do. And, given my history, I feared the worst.

I reported the news to my closest friends with great sadness. “No heartbeat,” was all I could manage to say. My friends offered me prayers, comfort and shoulders to cry on.

But I had one friend who remained upbeat. “Hang on until the next ultrasound,” she urged. “We have no idea what God has in store for your little one. Pray to Our Lady of Guadalupe, the protector of the unborn.”

Of course! Our Lady of Guadalupe! And so began the rosaries, asking for her intercession. A few days later, out of the blue, I received a beautiful rosary in the mail -- it was a gift from a pro-life organization to which we had donated, and it bore the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe. My heart jumped, and I dared to hope this was a sign of an impending miracle.

The next day, on our way out of the house to go to the doctor’s office, my four year old begged to hold the pretty rosary. I handed it to her, and we drove to the home of a friend who'd offered to watch the kids while I went to the doctor. When we arrived at my friend’s house, the rosary was in pieces. “I’m sorry, Mama,” my little girl said with sad eyes. “It broke.” Indeed, beads and links were scattered everywhere.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “Things break. You didn’t mean to.”

But inside, I feared that my “sign” had broken too. I had been hoping and trusting in my prayers to Our Lady of Guadalupe and now the rosary, that unexpected gift that prompted me to hope for a miracle, was in pieces.

Later, at the doctor’s office, the final news came. No growth... no heartbeat... no sign of life. Blood tests over the next week confirmed that my levels of pregnancy hormone had dropped; the baby had died.

In my grief, I forgot for a time about my broken rosary, but then a strange thing happened.

Though I mourned our lost child, circumstances surrounding the miscarriage led to amazing resolution regarding an old and painful emotional wound. In other words, had I not miscarried, I would not have been healed of this old wound. What an amazing grace, I thought, and I thanked God for what He had done for me through the short life and the death of my child.

It was then that I remembered the rosary. As I pieced it back together, I saw that I had nearly all of it. One decade was missing two beads, and my tinkering with the links left it looking a bit crooked here and there, but it was repaired.

Gazing at it, I was struck by the incongruity. This once-perfect thing was now bent, crooked and imperfect, yet still beautiful. It was like us -- like our lives. Though we were made in the perfect image of God, we are bent and crooked with original sin; even after baptism we are still crippled by its after-effects. We stumble through this life tarnishing the perfect image while our Lord repeatedly tinkers with us, repairs us, and heals us.

I remembered the sinking feeling I got when I saw that the rosary had been broken, how I felt all my hopes instantly dashed. I had imagined that the gift of the rosary meant that I would receive the gift of my baby. What I received instead -- the healing I received -- was a great gift that I could not have predicted.

I couldn’t have known how beautifully the Lord would use my child to heal me; I couldn’t have known how this unexpected rosary would become the symbol of God’s work in a broken part of my life. Now, when I pray with my broken rosary, I think of my baby and I know that my friend was right -- we had no idea what God had in store for my little one.

He is always, ineffably, and so unexpectedly, making crooked ways straight.

(This post also appears on the Catholic Exchange blog.)

A special prayer request

I don't often post personal prayer requests. But tonight, I'm asking for prayers for a couple very dear to us. The husband, a reservist, will soon be deployed to Kosovo for a year. Their children are young .... please pray for all of them.

Donna-marie is having a contest!

Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle is having a contest. She's giving away a copy of her Prayer Book for Mothers, which is a really lovely, user-friendly, carry-with-you sort of book.

See this post at Embracing Motherhood for details.

I'm off to nominate three moms!

Ramona says ...

... that I'm invited. To what? "The picnic of your life, Mommy!"

Who could resist?

**************

While climbing on me, and attempting to turn my arm into a trapeze, Ramona said, "Hey, this is a great exercise utensil!"

Getting back to that five-year plan ....

Or, "What's Rick Blaine doing now?"

A few days back, in this post, I talked about being cornered one day in the office in which I worked in another life, and being asked, "What's your five-year plan?" I didn't have a five-year plan, and I couldn't even begin to imagine one. And it turns out that my Blaine-ish ways weren't really so off the mark, because even if I'd drafted, proposed and attempted to execute a perfectly constructed five-year plan, it would have looked nothing like the way things eventually unfolded for me.

I ended the post with:

My point is that I can make all the plans my organized little heart desires, but God (as I now call Him) can force me into flexibility at a moment's notice.

So, given that reality, should we stop making plans altogether?

Then, in the comments, Willa beautifully summed up what I was leading up to. She said:

My thought is that you keep planning, but that like with everything else, you hold on to the plans loosely and keep in mind what the plans are for.

I always think of St Francis of Assisi, who planned to be a soldier, and planned to build a church. It wasn't that his plans became a joke, or irrelevant, it was that they were fulfilled -- consummated? -- in a unique way.

Karen, like your life, mine has been so full of unexpected, grace-filled twists and turns that I can relate to everything you say.

Yes! That's it!

I was thinking, too, of St. Therese of Lisieux, who wanted to be a missionary. As I wrote in the essay mentioned here (which I called "The Little Way of a Little Family"), St. Therese's dream was also fulfilled in a unique way. I wrote:

St. Therese had big dreams. She wanted to be a missionary, evangelizing the whole world. Instead, she was given a short, hidden life, full of mundane little tasks in the convent, tasks she learned to do with great love. And now, this Doctor of the Church is evangelizing the whole world through her intercession from heaven.

Most of the time, we don't have a clue, do we? God is too big, too cunning and crafty for us to outguess Him, dodge Him, or stay one step ahead of Him. Oh, sure, occasionally He lets us coast along, thinking we're in control, but it's usually a set-up. A grand one, I'll grant you, and a really well thought out one, too. And one with great results, because He's -- you know -- God. He's good like that. But it's still a set-up, because suddenly - bam! - we can't help but think, "Whoosh ... never saw that one coming."

And, so back to the question I asked myself: "Does that mean we should stop making plans altogether?"

If the answer were "yes" I'd have to get pretty irritated with God. After all, He's the one who gave me this affection for planning. To never be able to use it? That would be a cruel joke. Having left Rick Blaine in the dust, I do now plan beyond next week.

I plan ahead for a school year. I look vaguely ahead, two or three years, down the academic roads I expect us to travel. We plan for the kids' college and for our retirement (oooh, wait ... we may have to pick one or the other ... Sorry, kids.)

So, I plan. For things big and little, I plan.

But, what I strive not to do is to worry about the plans. Because, if God chooses to change them, or to allow them to change, I know -- I believe it down to my core -- that it will be for my good.

So, I happily plan away. And, I think God nods his wise head, full of affection for my silly attempts at control; I think He feels the same rush of love that I feel for my daughters when they do something that is immensely cute but utterly useless or destined to fail, something that I find so incredibly endearing that it makes me want to squash them with a hug. I don't love them any less for doing those things. I actually love them more, and I like to think that God loves us more, too, in the same way.

I picture God the Father nudging Jesus and the Holy Spirit, and saying, "Look! Aren't they cute, those little people We made? They're using all the faculties We gave them. Well, bless their little hearts. And prudence! Hey, they're actually putting it to use. Now, that's something a Father can be proud of. Huh. Sure will be hard to crush them when this plan falls apart [much nodding of Divine Heads at this] but, oh, well ... A God's gotta do what a God's gotta do, eh?"

And then, the Trinity shares a good laugh at my expense.

But, that's okay. It's a laugh that shakes me to the core and then somehow, every time, rebuilds me from the inside out.

Because that's what God is all about. Making me new.

"Behold, I make all things new." -- Revelation 21:5

And that includes my plans.

So ... what's my five year plan?

To keep planning, to keep letting go when I must, and to keep allowing God to make me new.

'Cause He's good like that.

Smart. Funny.

I like her.

She's The Philosopher Mom.

H/T: Genevieve

It's raining memes

And, here are the ones I've been tagged for (and thanks to everyone who tagged me. From the bottom of the heart of a girl who was always chosen last for softball, thank you, she said, remembering how she used to stand in the outfield and pray -- even before she believed in God -- for the ball to end up anywhere but near her.)

Matilda tagged me as a rockin' girl blogger, and I'm rocked to the core.


In turn, I'm tagging these rockin' bloggers:

Sister Julie, at A Nun's Life.

Melanie, at The Wine-Dark Sea.

Kelly, at Big A little a.

Leonie, at Living Without School (check out the green boots).

Ruth, especially for taking the time to compile the Meezes (and, yes, I'm finally getting to mine ....) of lots of mommies.

*****

Nutmeg tagged me with "A Picture of Now, Between Past and Future" and here are my answers:

1.a. Describe your outfit.

Black capris and a white t-shirt

b. What associations does the main color invoke?

The opposite colors make me think of the conflicting (can you say "schizophrenic"?) parts of me. I remember taking a personality inventory at work, years ago, and I was told they'd never seen an odder combination of traits. Hmmm ....

c. Is there a memory associated with this outfit (or part of it)?

Not a memory, just the overall impression of my wardrobe: scaled down and simple.


2.a. Are you listening to music?

No.

b. Was this intentional?

No.

c. What does the music make you remember?

The absence of it makes me remember that, as Nutmeg's tag line says, "It's not that easy, 'cause my time is often decided for me."


3.a. Describe the objects within arms' reach.

My coffee cup, a postcard from Belgium, the family wall calendar, a Willow Tree figurine holding a book, pages from Faith and Family offering ideas for July and August, my glasses, headphones, a stack of library receipts.


b. Choose one object and tell where you acquired it.

I bought the coffee cup for Atticus. It was on sale for $2, and I liked the shape of it -- the simple white cup, with the word "coffee" climbing up the side -- and thought he would think it was perfect. But, it's a little too feminine for his taste. (We once had a similar conversation about a water bottle. A water bottle, people.)


c. On the whole, are the objects new (memory blanks) or old (memory filled)?

Hmmmm ... these things are all part of my current life, or fairly recently given to me. Although, I have worn glasses since I was ten years old. Not the same pair continuously, mind you. I don't think pink cat-eyeswould become me now.


4.a. What room are you in?

The kitchen. We're experimenting with moving the computer in here. I like it.


b. To what extent is it yours?

Half-and half. I organize it, maintain it (mostly) and turn it into Learning Central. But, Atticus-the-Great handles the weekend and summer cooking, and I don't know if I've ever cleaned an oven in my life. Don't you love him?


c. What kind of memories will you have in the future of this room?

Great, great, great. Read-alouds, family meals, laughter ... it's all here.


5. What were you doing before starting this post, and what would you like to do next?

I was drinking coffee, reading some blogs, and thinking about how I shouldn't have chocolate for breakfast.

What I'd like to do next is drink coffee, read some blogs, and have breakfast.

*****

And, finally, Renaissance Mom Kristen, at Small Treasures, tagged me to "play dress-up" with Meez. And, I came up with a really cute mom with a coffee cup (of course) and a snuggly room with a fire, but I can't get the Meezy thing to work. Arrgghh.

I'll try again soon, and then will be on the lookout for the next shower of memes!

Update: I got the Meez to export ... here I am, ready to settle in with a cup of coffee and a good book ....

Carnivals, Parties and Fairs, oh, my!

So many blog carnivals and fairs to visit:

Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle's Catholic Carnival, with a "Summer Mothering" theme, is here.

Elizabeth Foss has a list of the upcoming Summer Loveliness Fairs here.

The Carnival of Homeschooling, Week 80, is here, at Why Homeschool.

The July edition of the Carnival of Children's Literature will be hosted by Saints and Spinners (see this post for more info) and the last edition can be found here, at A Year of Reading.

It's never too late to eat

... even if I am too late to contribute to the Loveliness of Summer Food Fair, hosted by the lovely Sarah of Plainsong.

And, today's her wedding anniversary, so be sure to wish her a happy day.

And, here's my belated food contribution:

This Curried Cranberry Chicken Salad is one of my favorites.

Help for Gabriel

Please visit this post at Heidi Hess-Saxton's blog, for details about little three-year-old Gabriel Sullivan, who has leukemia, and is in need of help.

Sum-sum-summertime

Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle is hosting her Summer Mothering Carnival tomorrow, so get your submissions to her today!

A snippet of Donna's idea for the carnival:

Do you vacation or stay home and take day trips? Do you do crafts with the kids, any summer studies, or just chilling out? Do you do anything special to keep prayer in your summer?

All the details are here, at her Embracing Motherhood blog.

St. Maria's Messenger

My daughters have been enjoying this sweet little magazine, St. Maria's Messenger, put together by two homeschooled, Catholic teens, Bernadette and Rebekah Fox.

Some details about the magazine are here. As noted on their blog here, subscription rates will soon rise, so I renewed now, while the price is still just $12 for six issues.

I've been happy to support this effort with our subscription, and wish the girls much continued success with their publishing ventures.

Minnesota Mom, me, God, babies ....

It's all in the pages of the latest issue of Family Foundations, the magazine of the Couple to Couple League.

Minnesota Mom, our own dear Margaret, is a regular writer for this publication, and I recently had the privilege of joining her on the pages of the July/August issue, in which we each have an essay on family size. I'm also honored to share these pages with Mum2Twelve, who takes my breath away with her large, gorgeous family.

So, subscribe, support, donate and dig in to a great publication and a great organization.

And, thank you, CCLI, for the chance to be a tiny part of your great work.

The feeling is mutual

"Mommy," Ramona said, "I've grown quite attached to you."

Poetry Friday

from one of my favorites today ... Emily Dickinson:

The murmur of a bee
A witchcraft yieldeth me.
If any ask me why,
'Twere easier to die
Than tell.

The red upon the hill
Taketh away my will;
If anybody sneer,
Take care, for God is here,
That's all.

The breaking of the day
Addeth to my degree;
If any ask me how,
Artist, who drew me so,
Must tell!

Today's Poetry Friday round-up can be found Farm School. Thank you, Becky, and thanks, as always, to Kelly at Big A little a for launching Poetry Friday. (Don't forget to stop by and offer your condolences to Kelly on the passing of her laptop, which, while tragic, has resulted in a delightful poem.)

Ratatouille + Drive-in movie =

Happy family.

Read more about Ratatouille at Steven Greydanus's great review site, Decent Films Guide. His full review is here, and I agree with it completely.

So do Ramona, Betsy and Anne-with-an-e.

Oh, and they give the drive-in experience three thumbs up (especially the free popcorn on Bargain Night, and the getting-home-after-midnight part.)

Submit to the Summer Mothering Carnival

Donna-Marie Cooper O'Boyle is hosting a Summer Mothering Carnival on July 10, so get your submissions to her right away.

A snippet of Donna's idea for the carnival:

Do you vacation or stay home and take day trips? Do you do crafts with the kids, any summer studies, or just chilling out? Do you do anything special to keep prayer in your summer?

All the details are here, at her Embracing Motherhood blog.

What's Your Five Year Plan?

In this post, I mentioned that I wanted to get back to the subject of planning, being flexible, and changing direction.

Cliches crop up for a reason, and clearly the the cliche about telling God our plans resonates with most of us. We've all had carefully laid plans mercilessly dashed.

Of course, ultimately it's mercy-full, but we often cannot see that at the time.

When I was a young atheist, working in the business world (hmmm ... sounds like the title of something: "Young Atheism!") I already knew that God enjoyed dashing plans. Of course, I didn't call Him "God" back then. I called Him "fate" or "destiny" or "the forces at work in the universe" or "luck" or "karma" or "my crummy life."

I had never planned to work in the business world, you see, and yet that's where I'd ended up.

Backing up a bit, I hadn't planned to go to college, either, until my senior year of high school. But, since I didn't know what else to do, and I wanted to be an actress, I decided to go major in theater for awhile. Then I added on an English major and a philosophy minor. I stayed as far away from the business people as I could (no offense to you, Business People ... I was a bigoted thing back then.)

So, how did a Theater-English-Philosophy girl end up donning suits, working in business, traveling to New York, and visiting clients, all the while feeling she was an imposter playing dress-up?

I had to eat. And pay bills. And the acting jobs in Omaha, Nebraska weren't exactly rolling in. Neither were the novel-writing or philosophizing jobs.

And, so the fact that I enjoyed not starving forced me to take the first job that came along, and because I had nothing better to do than work hard (okay, my obsessive-compulsive tendencies were also at play, making me ultra-organized) I got promoted and ended up going on those business trips, marveling at things like seeing the Waldorf-Astoria from the inside.

And, while I was working and being promoted and going on business trips, I was asked by a colleague, "What's your five-year plan?"

I almost spat coffee all over my desk because the question sent me into a fit of laughter.

"My five-year plan?" I asked, recovering from the near choking. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, where do you see yourself in five years? Do you plan on working on an MBA? Do you still want to be here?"

Still laughing, I said, "I don't even know where I see myself next week. I certainly didn't plan, five years ago, to be doing this with my life. I can't imagine knowing where I'll be five years from now." And, because I regularly quoted lines from Casablanca, I added, "I never make plans that far ahead."

And, in a way, I still live by Rick Blaine's philosophy. When my colleague asked me where I'd be in five years, I would never have guessed that the answer would be, "In a small town, living the life of a newly baptized Christian."

Or, that five years after that, my answer would be, "I'm Catholic."

Five years after that? "I'm homeschooling now. And -- oh, get this! -- my husband is now Catholic, too."

Nope. Wouldn't have guessed a bit of that when I was sitting in my room at the Waldorf (that was only once, by the way ... business accommodations were usually a bit more humble) enjoying a drink from the fully stocked fridge.

My point is that I can make all the plans my organized little heart desires, but God (as I now call Him) can force me into flexibility at a moment's notice.

So, given that reality, should we stop making plans altogether?

To be continued ....

(ETA: The follow up post is here.) 

Dear Mr. Spam Person:

If you really think I'm going to open an email with the subject heading, "Soporific punish" you are quite mistaken about my gullibility.

I may be gullible when it comes to an announcement about the newest and most delicious chocolate in the world, or an advertisement for a perpetually-brewing coffeemaker, but "soporific punish" will get you nowhere.

In the future, please be more interesting, creative and grammatically correct. Your subject headings are, perhaps, soporific punishment, but they are not making me double-click.

Yours sincerely,

Mrs. Terrific SpamGuard

Procrastination 101

I'm supposed to be working on some writing that could potentially pay a bill or two, so of course, I'm blog-surfing.

But, I must stop. So, I'll let you pick up where I left off.

Go and read the wonderful Jen, at "Et tu?" I could direct you to a specific post or two, but I think I'll just send you to the whole, entire, terrific blog.

Because I need to stay away from it this morning.

I need to go pay a bill.

A fun writing contest

The Answers.com Creative Writing Challenge sounds like a fun little contest that includes the challenge of using a list of ten words they've provided. (Granted, you have to go through the linky-ness of linking to those words on Answers.com, but most contests are promos of some kind, so that doesn't bother me.) I'm going to run this one past Anne and Betsy, and see if they have any interest.

(Note: the contest appears to be open to all ages, as "children under the age of 18 may have their parents or legal guardians submit entries on their behalf.")

H/T: Hope C. Clark's Funds for Writers newsletter.

And where he goes I'll follow

Atticus keeps surprising me with big, beautiful bunches of day lilies on the table:

I love him, I love him, I love him.