You know you're getting old when ...

... your husband sends you an email with "John Cleese" as the subject line and your first thought is, "He's dead."

P.S.
He's not.

Worth Sharing

Some linkage for you:

Listen this morning to Suzie Andres and Terri Aquilina on The Catholic Channel as they talk with Greg and Jennifer Willits on The Catholics Next Door. The interview is at  9:20 a.m. (central daylight time.)

I contributed a chapter to Suzie's latest book on Catholic unschooling, and the book is shipping now. It's available from Hillside Education and it's full of inspiration for the homeschooling journey.

*****

The American Chesterton Society is offering one of their new MP3 downloads for free (until Friday of this week) to raise awareness that they now have MP3s in their online store. 

Get Joseph Pearce’s talk Small is Beautiful: The Resurrection of Chestertonian Economics at the link above.

*****

Not free, but just a couple of dollars! Go order my friend Sarah Reinhard's new book, Welcome Baby Jesus. Ordering an Advent book in the middle of Lent is a great idea -- just think about how prepared you'll be when December rolls around. My copy is already pre-ordered.

*****

Momentarily Liturgically Confused Again

Remember the last time I was momentarily liturgically confused?

It happened again -- the lovely, fluffy spring snows that have fallen off and on since Saturday have had me discombobulated:

Of a friend's preschooler's approaching birthday, I said: "Wait -- was he a winter baby? When was he born?"

Anne-with-an-e: "Mom. It's almost April."

Oh, yeah.

And, for Betsy's Confirmation this past weekend, we got to stand outside and shiver in the cold and flurries before the procession into the Church. (But I'm not complaining. Well, yes, I am, and I need to cut it out.)

Coming soon:

An end to my discombobulation, an end to my complaining, and an update on all things Lent.

Quotes for a Tuesday

All from George MacDonald:

"As the world must be redeemed in a few men to begin with, so the soul is redeemed in a few of its thoughts, and works, and ways to begin with: it takes a long time to finish the new creation of this redemption."

"All things are possible with God, but all things are not easy."

"Man finds it hard to get what he wants, because he does not want the best; God finds it hard to give, because He would give the best, and man will not take it."

Go Enter Jenn's Giveaway!

Jennifer is hosting a giveaway "to encourage people to donate to some of the aid organizations helping with the aftermath of the earthquake in Japan."

You could win a signed copy of Across the Puddingstone Dam by Melissa Wiley. Or, if you're a knitter, or know one, you can win some beautiful yarn.

Find out more here, at As Cozy as Spring.

Poetry Friday: Mark Jarman's Prayer for Our Daughters

I'm not sure there's a word strong enough for how much I love this poem. But then, there isn't a word strong enough for how much I love my daughters, either.

So.

Prayer for Our Daughters
by Mark Jarman

May they never be lonely at parties
Or wait for mail from people they haven't written
Or still in middle age ask God for favors
Or forbid their children things they were never forbidden.

May hatred be like a habit they never developed
And can't see the point of,

(Read the rest here, at The Writer's Almanac.)

~~~~~

You'll find the roundup today at A Year of Reading.

The Solemnity of the Annunciation

The Annunciation, Henry Ossawa Tanner, 1859-1937

Help me, Lord, to say "yes" to You today, in the remaining days of Lent, and always. 

~~~~~

And, because today is a Solemnity, say yes to a big celebration -- bring on the burger! Have some wine! Is there a cake in the house? Mary said yes! Jesus is worth celebrating! I need some deep, dark chocolate.

Note: Sometimes Catholics don't believe this Solemnity-on-a-Friday-lifts-the-Lenten-obligation stuff. "Meat? On a Friday in Lent?" they may ask, with narrowed eyes. "Are you sure?"

I'm sure.

Not that you have to eat meat. Personally, I don't care that much about meat -- there are plenty of other things that are tougher sacrifices for me. And plenty that are greater symbols of feasting and celebration. The point is Jesus. Always Jesus. However you celebrate.

Here's a fun collection of links about today's Solemnity at Catholic Culture.

Book talk with Anne-with-an-e

Anne and Betsy recently read Doomsday Book by Connie Willis for a teen book group (caveat: not necessarily a typical teen pick and definitely not a breezy read. Plenty of graphic descriptions of the Black Death in the middle ages. Cheery, no? On the other hand, they both loved the portrait of a noble priest and a number of other elements in the book; they're now pressing the book on me.)

I haven't read Doomsday Book yet, but I am currently reading Blackout by the same author. There are a number of things I enjoy about it, but as I told Anne, I'm getting a little impatient with some repetition. The plot revolves around time-traveling historians -- in this case, back to World War II. Things are wonky with both the travel destinations and the future's retrieval system, but I want Willis to get to the point.  To repeatedly read, "She went to her drop and it wasn't open," and "Why hadn't the retrieval team arrived?" is getting tiresome.

"It's all so urgent," I told Anne, "because you know they need to get this stuff figured out. But because it's been repeated so much, it's not that compelling to read about it again and again."

"Well," replied Anne, "real life is like that -- urgent, but not compelling."

She's so right. I love that observation. Life too often feels urgent but not compelling.

On the other hand, I want my fiction to be better than my life, not just as stuttering. Still, I want to plow through, as I'm really enjoying all the historical details. I'll keep you posted.

One of those memes

One of those random "Half Dozen"memes:


Six things I can reach from where I'm sitting

A coffee cup
A pile of books
A dvd that I need to review
My kitchen Madonna

My planner
A stack of library receipts

Six songs on my current iTunes play list

We're Going to Be Friends (Jack Johnson)
Whole Wide World (Wreckless Eric)
Alive Again (Matt Maher)
My Jesus (Todd Agnew)
The Sun Ain't Gonna Shine Anymore (Walker Brothers)
If You Say Go (Bob Pegritz)


Six TV series I have been watching

There are only two that I can think of:

Reruns of The Office
Brideshead Revisited 


Six things I have eaten in the last 24 hours

Takeout chicken
Special K
lemon yogurt
a banana
carrots and hummus
a Milano cookie



Six things I have bought this week

A Confirmation gift for the sweet girl I'm sponsoring
Chicken soup
Crackers
Paper cups
Cough medicine
A Suzuki violin book and cd

Six things that have made me laugh recently

Anne

Betsy

Ramona

Atticus

Reruns of The Office

My friend's observation that if I were to throw up on the Archbishop (Confirmation is approaching + we've been sick here = I don't want to do the math if Atticus has stomach flu) I could write a different kind of book. 

My arms and God's

When Betsy was younger, before we had her asthma figured out, there were some long and terrible nights. She coughed. Miserably.  I felt helpless. Sleep wouldn't come although we had given her each and every medication that the doctor had approved. There was water on the nightstand, available for sipping. A cushy, cozy bed. Extra pillows that propped her troubled head and eased the air flow to her lungs.

Still she coughed.

And so I turned to the last weapon in my arsenal. I'd snuggle up beside her and she'd rest against me. I held her close, stroked her hair. Sometimes I sang. I was simply there. And she rested. It startled me every time, that my mere maternal presence eased her breathing, relaxed her limbs, opened a clenched fist, left her small mouth slack in sleep. A sweet reprieve it was, for both of us.

Sometimes I am like my daughter.  I have followed my prescription and everything is in its place. Bits and pieces of life have been comfortably settled, readied to deal with any situation that may arise. The water glass, the cool pillow ... we have done our best.

But my restlessness can be calmed by only one thing -- it is the presence of my Father that I need. I do not need any "thing" that He can grant me. I need only to rest in His arms, and that is my consolation. That is the sweet reprieve I need to wake up tomorrow and rise to another day.

On the radio

I'll be on Relevant Radio's Morning Air Monday morning (today, March 21) at 7:30 a.m. central time.

The link to tune in and listen live online is here.

Quote for the Second Sunday in Lent

"God gives His gifts where finds the vessel empty enough to receive them."

~~ C.S. Lewis

Quotes for a Sick Day

Poor Ramona -- a fever of 104 yesterday!

Poor Betsy -- Coughing so much she couldn't sleep!

Poor Anne-with-an-e -- Achy legs! Sore throat!

Poor me -- Woke in the night feeling as if I were floating! Eek! And I'm using too many exclamation points!

Poor Atticus -- He has to live with us!

Quotes for a Sick Day! Now!

“It is not good for all our wishes to be filled; through sickness we recognize the value of health; through evil, the value of good; through hunger, the value of food; through exertion, the value of rest.”
 ~~ Dorothy Canfield Fisher

“Illness is the most heeded of doctors: to goodness and wisdom we only make promises; pain we obey.” ~~ Marcel Proust

"I love you, Atticus. You're such a good daddy, going out for Milanos at nine o'clock at night for your eight-year-old."
~ Me (and of course, she was already falling asleep and didn't want them by the time he returned.)

We Former Atheists Are Now Shipping

I contributed a chapter to this terrific book, edited by Rebecca Vitz Cherico. 

Find it through the publisher (Servant Books, where you can read see the table of contents and read the first chapter) or at at Amazon, Barnes and Noble or your favorite Catholic bookseller. 

Poetry Friday: An Atticus Hibernian Pick

Because I was too busy yesterday to get a second St. Patrick's day post up using Atticus' pick of the day, I'm using it now. Thus, a multi-tasking poem from Marianne Moore. It works for St. Patrick's Day, for Poetry Friday, for wit, aching irony, and the bit of genetic memory that I feel for all things North Atlantic.

Some of my favorite stanzas are below, and you can find the entire poem here, at Poets.org.


Spenser's Ireland
by Marianne Moore

has not altered; --
a place as kind as it is green,
the greenest place I've never seen.

... Outwitting
the fairies, befriending the furies,
whoever again
and again says, "I'll never give in," never sees

that you're not free
until you've been made captive by
supreme belief,

... like the purple-coral fuchsia-tree's. Eire--
the guillemot
so neat and the hen
of the heath and the
linnet spinet-sweet-bespeak relentlessness? Then

they are to me
like enchanted Earl Gerald who
changed himself into a stag, to
a great green-eyed cat of
the mountain. Discommodity makes
them invisible; they've dis-
appeared. The Irish say your trouble is their
trouble and your
joy their joy? I wish
I could believe it;
I am troubled, I'm dissatisfied, I'm Irish.

~~~~~

The Poetry Friday round up is at A Wrung Sponge.

Ramona's Version of "A Place for Everything"

"Ramona," I said, "Why is this cardboard box in your room? Can't we just throw this away?"

"No, Mommy! Look at the label! I'm using it for my pajamas!"

How can I argue with that level of organization? I'm calling Mission: Organization. They've been missing an entirely new use for empty Amazon boxes.

Quote for a Thursday

"Like (Mary), great are the graces we have received. Like her, let us always accept the cross in whatever way it comes. Like her, let us with grace and delicacy touch the lonely and unwanted. Like her, let us not be ashamed or slow to do humble works." 

~ Blessed Teresa of Calcutta 

The Mother of God washed dishes, changed diapers, and swept floors; my daily work is often as mundane. And as holy.

(from Through the Year With Mary: 365 Reflections) 

Prayer: Progress Doesn't Happen Overnight

Tonight a friend mentioned that at the recent mission at our parish (which we missed, mainly due to Atticus and Betsy feeling miserable with colds or allergies), our pastor discussed the wonderful A-R-R-R prayer. Since I'm being so green today, I thought I'd recycle an old post about the pirate prayer which is, I think, quite apt for Lent.

~~~~~~~~~~

I really need to be accountable. That's why I have Atticus. And children. And a cat. And a scale. And a best friend. And a spiritual director.

This weekend, I got to see my best friend and my spiritual director. I saw Atticus, the children and the cat, too, of course, but you hear about them every day, so let's move on. The best friend and the director live in Omaha, so I don't see them as often. Saturday, I had the chance to see them both, so it was a good day for accountability.

You don't really need to know, and you probably don't care, about the things I was struggling with. Like most of us, I have the same things arise again and again. My spiritual director compares God's work on these issues -- anyone's issues -- to an onion. God peels away a layer or two at a time, helping us to get closer to the core.  My best friend has always compared it to an upward spiral: our struggles keep coming up, repeating themselves, which can be discouraging. But we are being pulled upward.

Both analogies work on the same level: we're making progress, but it's slow. Sometimes painful. Sometimes we don't feel as if we've gotten very far.

When I was an atheist, I assumed that people who had conversions were all like St. Paul: instantly different in every way.  What I've learned, as a Christian, is that some things are instantly different (let's face it, to become a Catholic is to adopt some rather dramatic changes in one's life) but other things are lifelong learning experiences. Core sins or ways of being take time to change.  Most likely, though the substance of the struggles is the same, the accidents, or the way in which those struggles manifest, is very different when we are 30 or 40 or 50 than it was when we were 15 or 20 years old.

I like to take the spiral analogy and visualize it even further. I picture the spiral as something very tightly, painfully wound at the bottom -- wound so tightly it can barely be moved or untwisted. But, as God' work begins, the spring begins to loosen. And as it is unwound, the spiral opens, and widens, and moves ever upward, widening our perspective of it as well.  So, as we move upward on this spiraling, expanding path, we get a better view, a clearer and wider sense of the things we're untangling and dealing with.

I share this because if you are ever discouraged by the fact that you seem to revisit the same sins or the same patterns of behavior repeatedly, I hope you won't despair. Compare yourself to where you were five years ago with the same sin. What about ten years ago?  Do you handle it differently?  If you're striving to seriously live your faith life, my guess is that you do handle it differently. A particular temptation or inclination might still be there, but you're probably approaching it in new and better ways all the time.

Does an alcoholic stop wanting to drink? Usually not. Does a recovering alcoholic stay away from alcohol? Yes. It's the same thing with all of our sins and temptations. We're still the same people, but the ways in which we live and behave do change, with God's grace. Sometimes we even stop wanting the drink, the sin, the temptation. God can transform us that completely.

Having said all that, I'm rerunning something that I need to revisit regularly and so I'm assuming you do, too. It's what my director called the "A-R-R-R" method of prayer, and what I then dubbed pirate prayer. All you have to remember is "ARRR" (but you don't have to add "Matey" or do anything that makes you feel really foolish. You can even eschew my silly pirate label and call it something respectable, such as "a method of prayer for those of us who enjoy acronyms.") 

ARRR stands for:

Acknowledge
Relate
Receive
Respond

These steps in prayer are especially helpful to me when I'm responding to something with a great deal of emotion. At times, I find (or my spiritual director oh-so-gently points out) that I'veintellectually sifted through a problem, but I'm still reacting strongly to the situation. Intellect is not enough. It's time to take it to God in prayer, and "ARRR" helps me in this way:

Acknowledge

Acknowledge what I'm feeling -- what I'm really feeling, not what I think I should feel, what I wish I could feel, what I think God wants me to feel. Acknowledge -- to myself -- my true feelings. No matter how irrational, unjustifiable or unpleasant they may be.

Relate 

Hand those feelings over to God. Tell Him everything -- tell Him what I've honestly recognized in myself. Lay it down at His feet. Give it utterly and completely to Him.

Receive

Receive what God has to offer me in return. Is He calling me to forgiveness? To healing? To action? To grieving? Be open to what He offers. (This may not come right away. Be patient.)

Respond

This is self-explanatory. What did I receive from God, and how will I put that into practice, into action?

These steps don't always occur as neatly as I've spelled them out. The "Acknowledge and Relate" stages may stretch out over many moments or sessions of prayer. Sometimes I find that I have to acknowledge over and over again what I'm reallyfeeling about something before I'm ready to move on. So, the "Acknowledge and Relate" stages may include tears or times of simply pouring my heart out to our loving God. Because I have to empty myself of my self before I'm ready to receive anything from the Lord.

But, I also have to remember that I can't get stuck in the "Acknowledge and Relate" stages. Reminding myself that I'm in the middle of a process is so helpful. When I've really and truly given up to God all that I've been holding on to, He will pour out new graces that I'll then be ready to receive. Knowing that I'm only two steps into a process wards off despair and nurtures hope. And it keeps me from stagnating in self pity or sadness.

I know that there will be gifts to receive, and that He will give me the strength to respond to them.

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." (Phil. 4:13)

St. Patrick's Day

Because it's St. Patrick's Day, I'm being green -- I'm recycling old posts.

I usually post St. Patrick's Breastplate (so go reread it.)

Or, Atticus does a guest post. Or another guest post. (Let's repurpose them today.)

Or, I talk about green milk. (I'm afraid the milk cannot be reused. Alas. It's green, but not green.)

Or, I confess that talking vegetables enlighten us. (This post is so old that no one will realize it's a rerun! The best kind of recycling!)

Re-Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Quote for a Wednesday

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassion, kindness, lowliness, meekness, and patience,

forbearing one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive.

And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.

And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in the one body. And be thankful."

~~ Colossians 3:12-15

Things We're Reading

Anne-with-an-e is reading (at this very moment, actually) Doomsday Book (which Betsy finished last week) by Connie Willis. She's also reading The Great Gatsby, Mark Shea's By What Authority: An Evangelical Discovers Catholic Tradition and The Cartoon Guide to Chemistry by Larry Gonick.

Betsy is reading To Kill a Mockingbird (rereading, actually), just finished the Hahns'  Rome, Sweet Home (and has decided she loves conversion stories so she moved on to  Surprised by Truth), and recently finished everything in the Betsy-Tacy series.

Ramona is thoroughly enjoying having me read Anne of Green Gables aloud. She has the fun of another ongoing read-aloud right now as our Anne-with-an-e reads her the Molly series (American Girl books.) Ramona is also reading Beverly Cleary's Ribsy (a great vintage copy snagged today at the library book sale.)

I'm reading Connie Willis' Blackout, which so far I like very much.  I also read French Women Don't Get Fat, which has convinced me that I'm completely correct in loving dark chocolate and red wine. And a friend just passed on a copy of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother and -- it's just a guess at this point -- I don't think Amy Chua and I have the same parenting style.

Saying Yes, Saying No, and Jennifer's Our Father Series

Why do mothers feel so guilty about being "only" mothers?  Why do we sometimes think that if our vocation and our work is "just at home" that we should be willing to also take on all kinds of other projects?

Isn't "Home and Family" a worthwhile project?

I think so. But I'd be willing to bet that most stay-at-home moms have felt guilty about saying no to volunteering, committees, and so on, even though we know that Overcommitted = Cranky.

I'm sure we've all heard the spot-on wisdom that we must sometimes say "no" to good things in order to properly serve the people and things we've said "yes" to.

And isn't the best example of that the Blessed Mother?

When Mary said "yes" to God, she was saying "no" to a lot of other objective goods, such as an ordinary marriage and family. But the Lord didn't call her to the ordinary -- He called her to the extraordinary. She said yes.

On the other hand, He has called many of us to the ordinary, and we must say no to the extraordinary (such as being, or trying to be, Superwoman.)  It's okay to say "No, I cannot be Superwoman", no to the many demands on our time that can distract us from handling that one big "Yes" that we signed on for.

Jennifer at Conversion Diary had a great post on this very subject recently.  Visit her post for the tips, definitely, but almost as good is the graphic she threw in.

~~~~~

And, speaking of Jennifer, she's doing a terrific series right now on The Our Father, Word by Word.  She's reflecting on the each word of the prayer, and has invited some guest bloggers to weigh in, too.

My turn will be coming up soon -- I'm delighted to be part of it, and I'll keep you posted.

In the meantime, check out Jennifer's first installment : "Our."  And her first guest blogger, Marcel LeJeune is here, on "Father."

And, just to be clear on the whole Yes/No issue:

If, instead of throwing in a guest post Jennifer had asked me to join a year-long committee to investigate the feasibility of doing a series of posts on the Our Father, and needed me to make 110 phone calls to see which bloggers might be free, and if she wondered aloud if I might also have time to bake ten dozen chocolate chip cookies for the first meeting and also line up the babysitting, rest assured I would have said no to all of those goods in order to say yes to the best: writing a blog post.

Poetry Friday on Saturday

I missed Poetry Friday 

but if you want to catch up with the round-up, 

visit Liz in Ink. 

The Glad Game of Lent

It wasn't until late Tuesday afternoon, when I wrote my last post, that I realized this is indeed another year in which I need to give up complaining (as opposed to simply sharing with you all that I've done that in the past.)

There are other sacrifices happening, yes. I won't talk about those just yet, or maybe not at all. But the complaining. Yes. It must go.

I have to thank a dear friend for bringing the C word up early Tuesday.

It was one of those days wherein I probably would have burst into tears if anyone had called and said, "But how are you really?"

Not for any particular reason that I could pinpoint. You know those days? Not because my children had done anything weepy-making. It was just one of those days. One of those times in motherhood (and one of those times when Lent is approaching) during which I was petulantly thinking, "I don't want to give anything up. I give myself up every day, day in and day out, and I've been doing it for years and I'm worn out and there's nothing left to give up. I want a vacation."

But, later, after my friend's email, and as I thought and prayed and worked on a blog post, I realized a couple of things. One is that I've certainly felt this way before. I remembered a blog post from last year in which I also sounded like a little girl stomping her feet and shrieking about her woeful life.

I wondered -- do I always feel this way in early March? Well, no. Last year, I felt this way in early February. The common denominator is that both of these times Lent was also just around the corner. (Draw your own conclusions. For Drama, Press 1: "Spiritual Attack." For banality, Press 2: "Winter Needs to End Soon.")

Two important thoughts came out of this realization. One is that I've felt this way before, I will feel this way again, and it will pass. Every time. I will not (so don't fret, daughters) pull a Joanna Kramer and walk out the door to go find myself.  I might need nothing more than a walk, and some sun, or a couple of hours with friends, but I'll be back.

But secondly, I hadn't been seeing the light. I'd been feeling the weight of the dark and I let it catch up with me -- focusing on what's negative, hard, tiring, overwhelming, wrong with the world, etc., instead of focusing on what's positive, a gift, worth the fatigue, easy, and what's right with the world.

And there's so much that is right.

And the minute I said to myself, "It's time for Pollyanna's Glad Game," (the Faith Edition) the cloud lifted. Telling myself I must change my attitude changed my attitude. I felt consoled, motivated, thankful.

For every time I ask Jesus, "Why do You allow ....?" He can and does answer, "This is why, and here's what you can thank Me for in the moment."  Or, if He doesn't make the "why" clear, He still says, "Say thank you anyway. It's what an obedient child does."

My Lenten plans fell into place. Getting rid of complaining is the beginning. There will be more -- prayer, alms, fasting.

Ash Wednesday was a great day of fasting.

I went to bed feeling so hungry for food and so full of God's promises.

Ummm ... How Did I Forget That I Had This Letter from Madeleine L'Engle?

Today, for a current writing project of mine, I was digging through some ancient papers. I found an old journal of mine from late 1989. Taped into the front cover was a letter.

Apparently I had written what could only be called a fan letter to Madeleine L'Engle. I was in my twenties and I thought that maybe --  perhaps, possibly, who-knows, someday -- I might write something that someone would publish. I must have shared that thought with her.

And I received this in return:

What a kind and gracious soul to take the time to respond to a (gushing, I'm sure) young woman who wrote to share her admiration and aspirations.

Forgotten for twenty-two years.

Rediscovered today.

Treasured for all time.

Poetry Friday: Courtesy of Atticus

An Atticus Pick this week, and I heartily approve.

Poetry
by Marianne Moore

I, too, dislike it: there are things that are important beyond
all this fiddle.
Reading it, however, with a perfect contempt for it, one
discovers in
it after all, a place for the genuine.
Hands that can grasp, eyes
that can dilate, hair that can rise
if it must, these things are important not because a

high-sounding interpretation can be put upon them but because
they are
useful. When they become so derivative as to become
unintelligible,
the same thing may be said for all of us, that we
do not admire what
we cannot understand: the bat
holding on upside down or in quest of something to

eat, elephants pushing, a wild horse taking a roll, a tireless
wolf under
a tree, the immovable critic twitching his skin like a horse
that feels a flea, the base-
ball fan, the statistician--
nor is it valid
to discriminate against "business documents and

school-books"; all these phenomena are important. One must make
a distinction
however: when dragged into prominence by half poets, the
result is not poetry,
nor till the poets among us can be
"literalists of
the imagination"--above
insolence and triviality and can present

for inspection, "imaginary gardens with real toads in them,"
shall we have
it. In the meantime, if you demand on the one hand,
the raw material of poetry in
all its rawness and
that which is on the other hand
genuine, you are interested in poetry.

The round up today is at The Small Nouns.

On the Radio Thursday Morning

I'll be on Relevant Radio's Morning Air show Thursday morning (tomorrow), March 3, at 8 a.m. (central time.)

We'll be talking All Things Lent.

You can listen online here (or visit that same page to find a station in your area.)