Over the last few days I've been hitting the social media stuff pretty hard. Facebook, e-mail, and...(I'm embarrassed to admit I don't know if the phone is considered social media or just outdated)...texting probably counts so I'll throw that in here too since I've done a lot.. hbu?
All this input has caused me to ... well, freak out a bit. Please understand I have been living the "unseen life" of mothering for a decade and a half now and this sudden exposure of my life is a bit like walking into neon-bright sunshine after having been nestled in the shaded forest for eons. I suppose my urge to "shut down" and hide today is a bit like the reaction of pupils contracting when a flashlight is pointed directly in the eye (as in a concussion test). Eventually, the contracted pupil, as well as my flagging confidence, will expand to let more light in once it does not perceive itself as threatened.
But for today, nerves on edge and wanting to flee to anonymity I headed to my favorite destination to walk: the nearby cemetery. Strangely, this place holds no morbid fascination nor fear for me. Instead, I appreciate the silence that soothes like a balm to my frenzied pace. It's also hard to miss the fact that the stone markers I pass each lend quiet testimony to a life once lived -- but no longer. They also serve as a reminder that "this too, shall pass." There are no intrusive voices, perhaps an occasional muted tone discussing which lot to mow next or where to plant the flowers. There's an air of reverence and a gentle breeze that lifts my spirit and reminds me to press on and remember that I am not laid to rest yet. I make eye contact with my beautiful blue-eyed daughter who's been riding along in her stroller and together we smile as a goose flies overhead honking for it's flight mates to wait up. And just like that I am centered once again -- reminded to recognize the beauty that is right in front of me instead of training my eyes to the future.
I will be back out to "play" with all my new friends soon, but for today I will soak up the silent comfort of the golden sunbeam drenching my shoulders in warmth and feel the paved road with each firm step I take leading me back home. I will hold onto this golden silence as long as I'm able. And ... I will imagine the day we've been told of -- when we shall meet more than Facebook friends...but all folks who have walked the face of the earth. Can you imagine the fantastic stories we'll hear...of heroism and heartbreak. We will have FOREVER to hear the intricate details from the perspective of legends and we'll discover the unsung tales of the quiet souls who helped shape eternal history...
But, again, what is in front of me instead of what is to come...Kids just got home from school;)
Friday, March 30, 2012
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Meatloaf Massacre (by Diane Gallagher)
It's Wednesday ... guest bolgger day. :) Diane Gallagher ... take it away ...
"Meatloaf Massacre" ... that is what my husband called it (only after I gave him "permission" by saying that I did not like this latest recipe myself). It was Rachael Ray's concoction, and I love her style and cuisine so how could I go wrong? My 12 year old son asked if I could try a different meatloaf recipe, and this one was jazzed up with some barbecue sauce and was scooped into muffin tins instead of formed into a traditional loaf. It was supposed to be tangier and quicker to bake, but it was mushy and sort of gross looking. Not one of my shining moments as a chef. The downside: a disappointing meal. The upside: a greater appreciation for the tried and true recipe my mother has made since I was a tot.
It is easy in these moments to focus on the negatives --- being discouraged that I made the effort to try something new while not bearing much fruit. I realized, though, that life is a balance of sometimes doing what you know is going to work and other times being willing to expand your horizons and try something new. I will stick with my Mom's meatloaf recipe in the future, but I have also discovered some new family favorites by testing some recipes: a spicy cheeseburger soup; a melt-in-your-mouth barbecue rib sauce; rich, scrumptious brownies; and an apple pie my Grandma would be proud of. To be perfectly honest though, I tend to stick with the familiar. I like the comfort of knowing that what I am doing or making is going to be a success. I do not like to fail. But I have come to learn that it is only through having a willingness to fail that I can grow and live life to the fullest.
Writing this blog is a good example for me. I was so excited when Susan first asked me to be a guest blogger until the reality of writing a weekly post sank in. Then, silly as this may sound, some panic set in: What was I going to write about? Who would read it? Who was I to be sharing my ideas and thoughts when I still have so much to learn? It was so tempting to call Susan and decline, yet I believed that this was something I truly wanted to do and God was blessing it. Yes, it's calling me out of my comfort zone and does create a little pressure for me each week as the deadline approaches. Would it have been easier for me to say no? Absolutely. There are times we need to say "no", but there are also times we need to say "yes" and go into uncharted territory with God in the driver's seat. So we pray, we talk with our spouses, and we hope we can be in touch with God's will as we make our daily choices. Then we act, hoping for success but prepared for failure too. After all, the only way we can create the most mouth watering ribs this side of the Mississippi (a little exaggeration for dramatic effect) is if we are willing to "live through" the meatloaf massacres.
Living It: "What uncharted territory might God be calling you into that you've been afraid to go?"
- Feel free to post your comments to open up a discussion or share your own "Meatloaf Massacre" story. :)
****
1/2 cup cider vinigar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 cup ketchup
1/4 cup chili sauce
1/4 cup Worcestershire
2 tbsp chopped onion
1 tbsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp dry mustard
1 minced garlic clove
dash cayenne pepper
* I double or triple the recipe because my husband likes to lather it on!
Bon Appetit!
Sunday, March 25, 2012
KEEPIN' IT REAL...with WATERMELON EYES...
Okay... It's time to get real! My 15 year old son has tried to enlighten me as to the error of my ways...that error being too Lofty, TOO Religious, too BORING! "Mom," Isaac said, "I'm only trying to help you. No one is going to read that stuff. It's a total turn off." "Well, I asked, slightly...ok, very defensively, "Have you even read it?" He responded with, "I saw the bible stuff (teenager speak for scripture reference), and knew it's just like all those other sites out there. You're too formal when you write Mom- too hard core. I've lived with you long enough to know that's not you. If you were to be in a room with strangers and they read this (he's talking about my post Drowning in muck...and Scones - which, incidentally has ONE scripture reference (adult/formal talk for bible stuff) they wouldn't get a clear picture of who you are. "It's called writing to your audience, son," I countered, then kind of slumped from his room, which is boldly decorated with a teen's idea of cool, ie. one of his first hunting kills: a stuffed and mounted turkey- strewn with Christmas lights ...yes, it's March, hanging on the wall.
Fume, second guess, self doubt...repeat...
Alrighty, Isaac...you want real...here we go...** READER- PLEASE REFER TO EARLIER POST TITLED: BAGS PACKED AND READY TO GO. Perhaps a bit lofty...included deeper meaning. I shall now share with you the REAL LIFE that was unfolding all around me as I wrote that "pie in the sky" piece.
Earlier that morning God had placed the idea of the story in my mind- what He didn't give me was the immediate time to write it. A good friend once told me, "God will open a window of opportunity and you must grab it then." Now, I am known to be a bit...uuum...distractable. So, it shouldn't be a surprise that at 7:30 p.m., while climbing steps to get my daughter's jammies, I noticed the family was occupied and a window seemed to have suddenly opened and called my name! Of course it made sense to me to toss the p.j's over the landing and holler to the nearest child to snag them while I fired up my trusty laptop and dove through that open window.
It didn't even bother me when my second eldest son heard me yell about the jammies and took it as an invitation to join Mom upstairs. Within minutes I had Stevie, Sam, and Jamie playing their e-game, Dinosaur Hunting, a mere three feet away from me as I typed away. My daughter Susie decided Mom looked lonely sitting at her desk and decided it was time for a hair make-over. Envision if you will, me- lost in thought staring at the computer screen while my fingers are tapping out the latest blog, meant to inspire readers to start their day with God, while my nine year old has removed my pony-tail holder and is trying to tame my naturally tight curls into flowing locks with the help of a vent brush. "Does that hurt Mom?" she asks as my head jerks back and my eyes tighten into slits with the pulls of the brushing. "No, hon, it feels good," I respond not missing a beat in my typing. I'm not lying either. At this point in my life being pummeled by a hale storm kinda feels like a massage. Around this time Lily, my ten year old joins the party and exclaims, "I get to do the make-up!" Susie yells, "Grab the flat iron- and don't let Dad upstairs til we're done!" while Lily descends the stairs to raid my makeup drawer. Now I'm switching screens on my computer to look up a bible verse while the kids are trying to decided if the scary voice on their dinosaur hunting game is really saying,"Giiive meee yooour sooul!" "What the..Gimme your WHAT?" I demand. "What are you playing, Stevie? Jamie, get off your sister! Ouch, Sus, that one kind of hurt... No, I don't think the dinosaur wants your soul...turn it down though, I can't think."
Okay, breathe..type, type type...God, holiness, type... "Mom?" Lily asks, "what's your favorite fruit?" She's returned with my eyeshadow pallet and her hand is hovering over various colors. "Fruit?" I ask, "well, I like blueberries." "Oh," she sounds a little disappointed, "do you like watermelon?" I smile as I notice her hand poised above a bright pink and say, "Sure, Lil, I love watermelon." Then I continue on trying to wrap up my inspirational thoughts while the flurry of activity around me escalates into a blur of hair straightening, face beautifying, t-rex slaying frenzy.
Suddenly Susie shrieks, "Daaad! You can't see her 'til she's done!" I can hear his voice climbing the steps as he's not about to take no for an answer. "It's late, Hon," he says, "and we should've been getting the kids to bed an hour ago. "But there was a window," I silently think...
"Ok," the girls call, "You can come up! What do you think?" I know I'm in trouble by the glazed look that always accompanies my husband Steve's efforts to cover up a laugh... he manages to croak out, "Wow!" By this time I've seen a cell phone picture of my hair that Susie took after she pulled back my bangs with the largest, shiniest, silver daisy clip I've ever seen. What I didn't know was that Lily had turned my eyelids not into a lovely shade of watermelon...but into a likeness of the seeded fruit itself! I believe there was even a green rind. Steve can't take his eyes off me as he is led to the black rocking chair with flowered cushions and Susie immediately appoints herself as his beautician and begins to gel his receding hairline into a magnificent
mohawk while I launch into reading my future blog about the wise man and poor villagers. We continue on amidst the tracking and shooting of various prehistoric beasts until Isaac, our 15 year old and only family member who was not congregated within four feet of my "window of my opportunity" came upstairs and took one look at Mrs. Watermelon eyes and said.."WAIT...Mom, you can't be serious." "What?" I responded, "I'm reading the blog to Dad. Now quiet." Isaac said, "Mom, that would be like me trying to read you something serious while wearing a Darth Vader costume." Taking his words as inspiration I continued on.."So, the wise man," pause for *SOUND EFFECT* Darth Vader heavy breathing through cupped hands, "says to the young man..*MORE ELECTRONIC HEAVY BREATHING... until Isaac, shaking his head, disgustedly stomped back downstairs. Somehow I finished reading to my husband amidst the chaos, only to have him respond, "Well, it's kinda long."
AND THAT, DEAR READERS, IS THE BACKGROUND WHILE MY KEYBOARD AND I MAKE MAGIC HAPPEN...(tongue in cheek).
You should know, every word of that is true. As is the fact that while I've been writing this Stevie has asked me about 100x if I'm ready to take him fishing. I've doled out at least seven chores and watched my five year old do a "leprechaun dance". Sammy has stomped upstairs and slunk back down after being scolded for his echoing volume while Evie, our 22 mos. old, is napping in the next room. Lily brought me salsa chicken and reminded me to count my Weight Watcher points. I had just downed a box of Mike-n-Ikes so shamefully asked Lily to wrap up the chicken to avoid going over my Points (siiiigh). And now the sun is out...so I will hit the road to take Stevie fishing and let the others go crazy on the playground. This is real life-my life anyway... As for being too "hard core," in the words of my 15 yr. old, I will continue viewing life through eyes trained on the goal of Heaven but will attempt to be more open in letting my imperfections and surrounding chaos show too... Certainly not perfect here...definitely human. Isn't that how humans connect? By relating to what is common in life. I know not everyone will find their eyes decorated with a fruit theme or hair frizzed out a mile wide...but then, maybe it will open a window for you into my life. Maybe it will spark some sort of connection somewhere down the road. I hope so.
Fume, second guess, self doubt...repeat...
Alrighty, Isaac...you want real...here we go...** READER- PLEASE REFER TO EARLIER POST TITLED: BAGS PACKED AND READY TO GO. Perhaps a bit lofty...included deeper meaning. I shall now share with you the REAL LIFE that was unfolding all around me as I wrote that "pie in the sky" piece.
Earlier that morning God had placed the idea of the story in my mind- what He didn't give me was the immediate time to write it. A good friend once told me, "God will open a window of opportunity and you must grab it then." Now, I am known to be a bit...uuum...distractable. So, it shouldn't be a surprise that at 7:30 p.m., while climbing steps to get my daughter's jammies, I noticed the family was occupied and a window seemed to have suddenly opened and called my name! Of course it made sense to me to toss the p.j's over the landing and holler to the nearest child to snag them while I fired up my trusty laptop and dove through that open window.
It didn't even bother me when my second eldest son heard me yell about the jammies and took it as an invitation to join Mom upstairs. Within minutes I had Stevie, Sam, and Jamie playing their e-game, Dinosaur Hunting, a mere three feet away from me as I typed away. My daughter Susie decided Mom looked lonely sitting at her desk and decided it was time for a hair make-over. Envision if you will, me- lost in thought staring at the computer screen while my fingers are tapping out the latest blog, meant to inspire readers to start their day with God, while my nine year old has removed my pony-tail holder and is trying to tame my naturally tight curls into flowing locks with the help of a vent brush. "Does that hurt Mom?" she asks as my head jerks back and my eyes tighten into slits with the pulls of the brushing. "No, hon, it feels good," I respond not missing a beat in my typing. I'm not lying either. At this point in my life being pummeled by a hale storm kinda feels like a massage. Around this time Lily, my ten year old joins the party and exclaims, "I get to do the make-up!" Susie yells, "Grab the flat iron- and don't let Dad upstairs til we're done!" while Lily descends the stairs to raid my makeup drawer. Now I'm switching screens on my computer to look up a bible verse while the kids are trying to decided if the scary voice on their dinosaur hunting game is really saying,"Giiive meee yooour sooul!" "What the..Gimme your WHAT?" I demand. "What are you playing, Stevie? Jamie, get off your sister! Ouch, Sus, that one kind of hurt... No, I don't think the dinosaur wants your soul...turn it down though, I can't think."
Okay, breathe..type, type type...God, holiness, type... "Mom?" Lily asks, "what's your favorite fruit?" She's returned with my eyeshadow pallet and her hand is hovering over various colors. "Fruit?" I ask, "well, I like blueberries." "Oh," she sounds a little disappointed, "do you like watermelon?" I smile as I notice her hand poised above a bright pink and say, "Sure, Lil, I love watermelon." Then I continue on trying to wrap up my inspirational thoughts while the flurry of activity around me escalates into a blur of hair straightening, face beautifying, t-rex slaying frenzy.
Suddenly Susie shrieks, "Daaad! You can't see her 'til she's done!" I can hear his voice climbing the steps as he's not about to take no for an answer. "It's late, Hon," he says, "and we should've been getting the kids to bed an hour ago. "But there was a window," I silently think...
"Ok," the girls call, "You can come up! What do you think?" I know I'm in trouble by the glazed look that always accompanies my husband Steve's efforts to cover up a laugh... he manages to croak out, "Wow!" By this time I've seen a cell phone picture of my hair that Susie took after she pulled back my bangs with the largest, shiniest, silver daisy clip I've ever seen. What I didn't know was that Lily had turned my eyelids not into a lovely shade of watermelon...but into a likeness of the seeded fruit itself! I believe there was even a green rind. Steve can't take his eyes off me as he is led to the black rocking chair with flowered cushions and Susie immediately appoints herself as his beautician and begins to gel his receding hairline into a magnificent
mohawk while I launch into reading my future blog about the wise man and poor villagers. We continue on amidst the tracking and shooting of various prehistoric beasts until Isaac, our 15 year old and only family member who was not congregated within four feet of my "window of my opportunity" came upstairs and took one look at Mrs. Watermelon eyes and said.."WAIT...Mom, you can't be serious." "What?" I responded, "I'm reading the blog to Dad. Now quiet." Isaac said, "Mom, that would be like me trying to read you something serious while wearing a Darth Vader costume." Taking his words as inspiration I continued on.."So, the wise man," pause for *SOUND EFFECT* Darth Vader heavy breathing through cupped hands, "says to the young man..*MORE ELECTRONIC HEAVY BREATHING... until Isaac, shaking his head, disgustedly stomped back downstairs. Somehow I finished reading to my husband amidst the chaos, only to have him respond, "Well, it's kinda long."
AND THAT, DEAR READERS, IS THE BACKGROUND WHILE MY KEYBOARD AND I MAKE MAGIC HAPPEN...(tongue in cheek).
You should know, every word of that is true. As is the fact that while I've been writing this Stevie has asked me about 100x if I'm ready to take him fishing. I've doled out at least seven chores and watched my five year old do a "leprechaun dance". Sammy has stomped upstairs and slunk back down after being scolded for his echoing volume while Evie, our 22 mos. old, is napping in the next room. Lily brought me salsa chicken and reminded me to count my Weight Watcher points. I had just downed a box of Mike-n-Ikes so shamefully asked Lily to wrap up the chicken to avoid going over my Points (siiiigh). And now the sun is out...so I will hit the road to take Stevie fishing and let the others go crazy on the playground. This is real life-my life anyway... As for being too "hard core," in the words of my 15 yr. old, I will continue viewing life through eyes trained on the goal of Heaven but will attempt to be more open in letting my imperfections and surrounding chaos show too... Certainly not perfect here...definitely human. Isn't that how humans connect? By relating to what is common in life. I know not everyone will find their eyes decorated with a fruit theme or hair frizzed out a mile wide...but then, maybe it will open a window for you into my life. Maybe it will spark some sort of connection somewhere down the road. I hope so.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
"Cleaning House" ... Literally and Spiritually (by Diane Gallagher)
It's Wednesday ... guest blogger day. :) Take it away Diane ...
***
Ahhh … the sweet smell of newly budding grass and flowers, a different array of birds at our feeder, glorious sunlight hours stretching longer into the day..Spring is here! The physical and spiritual worlds unite in a special way this time of the year. The dead of winter makes way for the new life of spring just as the death to self that occurs during Lent creates room for the new life of Easter that buds in our souls. This is a great time for some spring cleaning and what better way to start than with de-cluttering ... our homes and our souls! I know I always feel so much better after I have done a good purging in our house! A couple times a year, I like to get rid of as much unnecessary "stuff" as I can ... clothes, DVDs, games, toys.
We have all heard the rule of thumb that you should get rid of anything you have not used/opened/put on in a year. We might as well let someone else use it ... " your trash might be someone else's treasure." Take advantage of a neighborhood garage sale or even better ... donate the things to a charity that is hosting a garage sale. Our parish holds one every year, and we are happy to contribute annually as it is mutually beneficial!
Last Fall, I even held a mini-garage sale at my home ... but it was free for friends and family. I figured that people have been soooo generous to us through the years, that it only seemed right to share the bounty with others. Whatever works best for your style, spring is a great time to take advantage of the burst of sunshine and energy associated with the season while helping your family be freed from all the "stuff" that can bog them down.
As Spring is just beginning, we are now about halfway through the Church season of Lent. This is a perfect time to conduct some spiritual de-cluttering as well. Recommitting to our Lenten fasts might be a helpful step this week as your will power may start to wane. (It’s amazing how many feast days I can suddenly be compelled to celebrate as I look for excuses to break my fastsJ) You might also want to ask yourself what is cluttering your spiritual life and thus preventing you from having room for God. Busy schedules, email, facebook, errands and housework are not bad things, but if we do not keep our priorities and choices under God's watchful guidance, they can "clutter" our days and prevent us from living each day as He would have us. I love the image of our souls being like a vase. God's grace is the water that fills it. He can only fill as much as we give Him. If we are jamming as many flowers in the vase as physically possible, there will be less room for the water. While the flowers in and of themselves may be beautiful, they lose their attractiveness if they are smashed between many others.
This image begs two questions: How big of a vase do we give God? A bud vase with room for just one flower and little water (grace) -OR- a large container that can hold a big, beautiful bouquet and requires lots of water? Secondly, what are we filling it with? Carefully chosen flowers with room for movement or as many random flowers off the side of the road that we can stuff in? For the remainder of Lent, maybe we could try to fast from things that are cluttering our "vases" and be more selective in what we put in them so we have more room for the Creator and His Grace.
Happy Spring!
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Drowning in muck...and Scones!
Warm weather...soft breeze...peaceful and lilting Jazz tune (Earl Klugh) drifting in through my thoughts and dreams. Can it get any better than this? YES!
How do I know...because this morning's news show told of murder, child abuse, war, lawsuits, and oh yeah- nice weather, "So, have a pleasant day!" Admittedly, I have been absent from my postings because I have allowed myself to become enmeshed in the tragedies and heaviness of everyday life. I have walked through this last week with the melancholy weight of the world on my shoulders (and I don't mean the excess fluff derived from my latest carb addiction: Panera's Strawberries and Cream Scones oooooh la la.. Actually, I have tried to tame this craving~ Day 4 on Weight Watchers and going strong! Yay yay yay...yes, I know I'm in the honeymoon phase of the ww program so I'm begging for any prayers or positive comments to encourage me- seriously!).
Anyway...where was I? Oh yes, scones- no! Weight...I've gained a lot...Weight of the world- yep- me trudging around feeling as though I must somehow fix myself, my kids, my ongoing renovation in and out of the house, the war, the upcoming election, the laundry pile that never goes away, the van that now squeals every time the brakes protest, the friends I haven't been getting back to, the dinner that still needs to be made, the gray that's showing on my right temple (no offense Georgina~ it's probably grown in the last week since I visited your salon...it's coming on at an alarming rate these days:/), and I will add only one more thing to the platter of "Everything going wrong," with a side of "I have no energy (probably from the sugary scones!)," that I carried around like an overworked waitress balancing a huge tray upon my shoulder. That one thing is my distorted priorities. "Wooop.. there, I hefted it up onto the tray". Just like you, I've hunched over with eyes squeezed shut waiting for the inevitable CRAAASH...waaiting...still waiting...huh, nothin'.
Wait a minute, what's that? A soft breeze? Really? Aaah yes, it feels so good, gently lifting my hair away from my face- almost a caress. Let me throw some coffee down my throat to give me the clarity I need to make sure there's no thunderous clattering about to fall around me...No, hmmm, just a sunbeam filtering in through the open window drawing my eyes to the tree full of birds singing their hearts out across the street. Enter in the soft Jazz music and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of fresh perspective. And what's this? A plate of egg whites mixed with sauteed onions and fat free American cheese with half of a Panera Strawberries and cream scone...like Heaven on Earth- sort of- that soft breeze cooled the eggs while the birds sang to me- but I can deal with that while I enjoy my scone- in moderation.
I get it now...I sat down in my "illustrious studio" (I'll explain in a later post:) oh it's swanky!) to write~ but FIRST took the time to just sit. It was in that moment of stillness that God sent a breeze as an offer to notice the beauty right in front of me. He then caught my attention with song to lift my heart as He lifted the burdens from my shoulders and reminded me He never intended me to carry them. "Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28 Ignatius Bible RSV). I realized that our Creator didn't say "you will never be weary or burdened," but He reminded me to come to Him when I am. This isn't the first time I will make a determination to start my day with Him... but it is with renewed courage and hope that I do so. My whole outlook on today already feels different.
For clarification I will say that music choice and scone flavor are up to your discretion...but Jazz is smooth and strawberries and cream rock...just sayin'.
How do I know...because this morning's news show told of murder, child abuse, war, lawsuits, and oh yeah- nice weather, "So, have a pleasant day!" Admittedly, I have been absent from my postings because I have allowed myself to become enmeshed in the tragedies and heaviness of everyday life. I have walked through this last week with the melancholy weight of the world on my shoulders (and I don't mean the excess fluff derived from my latest carb addiction: Panera's Strawberries and Cream Scones oooooh la la.. Actually, I have tried to tame this craving~ Day 4 on Weight Watchers and going strong! Yay yay yay...yes, I know I'm in the honeymoon phase of the ww program so I'm begging for any prayers or positive comments to encourage me- seriously!).
Anyway...where was I? Oh yes, scones- no! Weight...I've gained a lot...Weight of the world- yep- me trudging around feeling as though I must somehow fix myself, my kids, my ongoing renovation in and out of the house, the war, the upcoming election, the laundry pile that never goes away, the van that now squeals every time the brakes protest, the friends I haven't been getting back to, the dinner that still needs to be made, the gray that's showing on my right temple (no offense Georgina~ it's probably grown in the last week since I visited your salon...it's coming on at an alarming rate these days:/), and I will add only one more thing to the platter of "Everything going wrong," with a side of "I have no energy (probably from the sugary scones!)," that I carried around like an overworked waitress balancing a huge tray upon my shoulder. That one thing is my distorted priorities. "Wooop.. there, I hefted it up onto the tray". Just like you, I've hunched over with eyes squeezed shut waiting for the inevitable CRAAASH...waaiting...still waiting...huh, nothin'.
Wait a minute, what's that? A soft breeze? Really? Aaah yes, it feels so good, gently lifting my hair away from my face- almost a caress. Let me throw some coffee down my throat to give me the clarity I need to make sure there's no thunderous clattering about to fall around me...No, hmmm, just a sunbeam filtering in through the open window drawing my eyes to the tree full of birds singing their hearts out across the street. Enter in the soft Jazz music and I feel like I'm floating on a cloud of fresh perspective. And what's this? A plate of egg whites mixed with sauteed onions and fat free American cheese with half of a Panera Strawberries and cream scone...like Heaven on Earth- sort of- that soft breeze cooled the eggs while the birds sang to me- but I can deal with that while I enjoy my scone- in moderation.
I get it now...I sat down in my "illustrious studio" (I'll explain in a later post:) oh it's swanky!) to write~ but FIRST took the time to just sit. It was in that moment of stillness that God sent a breeze as an offer to notice the beauty right in front of me. He then caught my attention with song to lift my heart as He lifted the burdens from my shoulders and reminded me He never intended me to carry them. "Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." (Matthew 11:28 Ignatius Bible RSV). I realized that our Creator didn't say "you will never be weary or burdened," but He reminded me to come to Him when I am. This isn't the first time I will make a determination to start my day with Him... but it is with renewed courage and hope that I do so. My whole outlook on today already feels different.
For clarification I will say that music choice and scone flavor are up to your discretion...but Jazz is smooth and strawberries and cream rock...just sayin'.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Drum roll please...
I am SOOO excited to introduce you to the wisdom, humor, and authentic goodness of a very dear friend of mine (and soon to be yours), Diane Gallagher. She, too, is a mother of seven ... hey, didn't you know we travel in packs?
“Diane, may I introduce you to the internet’s most savvy and brilliant blog followers?”
(Pleasantries exchanged)
(Pleasantries exchanged)
“And now, dear Harborlily Creative Readers, hold onto your hats...or at least take cover as you gain an insider’s view into a lively household of seven, mostly redheaded, cute as they come, Irish/Polish kiddos.”
Diane will be joining us here every Wednesday come heck or high water … or kids with fevers over 104 degrees. She’s a woman who'd like to share her insights as she strives to live a life committed to God's Will for her marriage and family. Join us as Diane shares her joys, hopes, and her secret on how to make the perfect peanut butter with honey sandwich in our new blogger series.
After reading Diane’s post, please be so kind as to COMMENT with topics you'd like discussed. Subjects as vague as "How to pray with kids," or as specific as, "I need help removing a stain on my child's altar serving garment that was soiled when the smell of incense caused my offspring to grow woozy and vomit before hitting his head whilst he collapsed from heat exhaustion on the altar." In which case, it may be time for us to start a Prayer Intercessory column. ;)
Without further rambling ... I present to you our very first guest writer MRS. DIANE GALLAGHER!
~ ~ ~ ~
It's been said that raising children is like building a cathedral: it takes years of hard work, but you may never see the results. "Cathedrals," you say? I'm building cathedrals? That is both a relief and a little scary. My name is Diane Gallagher, and I am extremely busy these days building seven cathedrals. No wonder I am so exhausted! Before I got into "construction", let me tell you a little bit more about me.
I was a high school teacher, youth minister, retreat leader and chastity program
coordinator. I met my husband while serving on NET ministries, an evangelization program that sends teams across the United States to put on retreats for high school teens. I have to believe that through the past 13 years of construction, God has taught us some valuable lessons both through our failures and our successes about guilt-free parenting, marriage, sacrifice, peace and much, much more. We are learning more every day (whether we want to or not. :)
I am excited to be writing a guest blog on Harborlily Creative. Since High school, I have enjoyed writing, journaling and creating ideas, but have not had much opportunity to tap into this lately. Thanks to the gentle nudging of my dear friend, Susan Yurkewicz, I am finally exercising these muscles again and will be posting a weekly reflection. My goal is to offer encouragement and support by sharing my own experiences as a Catholic wife and mother in a sincere and honest manner. I want to relate the Gospel message to our own daily walks as parents. If one thing I share can validate, reassure, or relieve a fellow parent, then my mission here is complete.
coordinator. I met my husband while serving on NET ministries, an evangelization program that sends teams across the United States to put on retreats for high school teens. I have to believe that through the past 13 years of construction, God has taught us some valuable lessons both through our failures and our successes about guilt-free parenting, marriage, sacrifice, peace and much, much more. We are learning more every day (whether we want to or not. :)
I am excited to be writing a guest blog on Harborlily Creative. Since High school, I have enjoyed writing, journaling and creating ideas, but have not had much opportunity to tap into this lately. Thanks to the gentle nudging of my dear friend, Susan Yurkewicz, I am finally exercising these muscles again and will be posting a weekly reflection. My goal is to offer encouragement and support by sharing my own experiences as a Catholic wife and mother in a sincere and honest manner. I want to relate the Gospel message to our own daily walks as parents. If one thing I share can validate, reassure, or relieve a fellow parent, then my mission here is complete.
In the next month I am hoping to write about "celebrating" Holy Week with your family, spring cleaning (your house and your soul), and applying Christ's passion to our role as parents. As Susan mentioned in her kind introduction, I welcome suggestions for future posts. I do hope you will return!
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Bags packed and ready to go!!...Are you sure?
A renowned wise old man needed help delivering an important package to a nearby village. A young man, eager to find favor with one so wise, readily offered his service. He was so excited to do the bidding of the wise man that he left with an empty backpack before giving the wise man a chance to pack it.
Realizing his error and fearful of being chastised for his haste, he decided to fill the pack with useful and beautiful items he found along his way. ""Perhaps he will praise my ingenuity and careful choices," he thought. First, he picked a bouquet of exquisite, delicate blossoms which bloomed high on a hillside. He reasoned their difficulty to posses gave them value sure to be appreciated. Next, he gathered nuts that had fallen from a tree onto a soft, shaded piece of land- certain their innards were fully intact and were therefore fresh and nutritious. Finally, he was ecstatic to find a perfect golden nugget tucked beneath a rock in the stream. Quite satisfied with his array of gifts and confident that the wise man would praise his finds, he hurried to the town to bestow his choice bounty upon the needy.
His arrival was greeted by a bent over, old woman whose gap-toothed smile expressed her excitement and anticipation of the package he was to deliver. The young man triumphantly held up his backpack with an air of importance and began to withdraw the items one by one. The woman's smile faded to a look of confusion and mistrust. "Are you sure this was sent by the wise man from the next town over?" she hesitantly asked. The young man adamantly pointed to the flowers and described the sheer height he ad been conquered to pick them. He gestured to the fine array of nuts that had been gathered and vowed they were of the finest quality for miles around. His final attempt to convince this seemingly ungrateful woman was to display the golden nugget in such a way as to let the sun glint off the precious mineral and dazzle the woman into being impressed. Surely messages of admiration and immense gratitude would filter back to the wise man and thereby reveal his own cleverness.
By now, the woman's smile had been replaced by an air of disappointment, but she nonetheless motioned for the young man to follow her so that he could deliver the package to the townsman for whom it had been intended. Slowly following the woman's hobbled gait he finally reached the door of a pitifully small, decrepit dwelling. His chest puffed with pride as he envisioned the gratitude from these poor people. He fully intended to let the wise man have all credit believing his own reward would be the sage's praise for representing him with such beauty and riches. The woman opened the door, revealing a dank and dark single room with a bed in the center. As the young man's eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the form a frail man lying in the bed lifting a withered hand to beckon his visitor closer. "Sir," the old woman addressed the young man, "please bend to my husband's ear for he is blind and can not see." Then she spoke loudly to her husband to describe the blossoms his eyes would never see, the nuts that his long ago lost teeth would never crunch as he could only take in liquid these days. She held the gold that had excited the young man with it's promise of status and wealth against her husband's gnarled fingers while she feebly described it as a yellow rock hoping her husband would find some joy or understanding in these odd gifts selected by the wise man. The dying old man drew in, what was evidently, one of his last few breaths in order to acknowledge the gifts his wife had valiantly tried to describe with enthusiasm.
The old woman bid their guest goodbye with a sad smile as her husband labored to breathe behind her.
The young man journeyed home and his thoughts were a jumble of confusion. Feeling he had failed his mission miserably he sought the wise man upon his return. "Please," he implored the wise man, "tell me what you would have sent to this man who could neither see nor eat. What could have made a difference to this couple? Was the package supposed to be medicine or perhaps money for a new house? Why were they disappointed with what I provided? Please, I must know." The wise man slowly reached into his pocket and held out a simple piece of paper upon which these words were written:
"Peace is coming- don't lose hope. You shall be in Paradise soon. You shall have no more tears, no more pain. You are not alone and you are loved very much."
The young man thought back to his time with the dying man and his crippled wife and was flooded with embarrassment as he realized how utterly useless his choice of gifts had been. He was saddened to think he had robbed this needy couple of the comfort they surely desired and would have found is those wise words during their most difficult hour.
At a loss for words of his own, the young man, who had sought to impress the wise man with his own brand of wisdom, realized his folly... he had chosen gifts to be given in another's name based on his own perspective and priorities.
Lord, help us to seek You in the beginning of each new day so that we can receive all You have intended for this day's journey (GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD). May we humbly seek Your wisdom so we may honestly offer Your gifts instead of our beliefs of what is needed. Dear Creator, You made all- You know all! Help us to trust Your choice of people we encounter, hardships we are to endure, gifts we are to share. Thank you for allowing us to be your hands and feet. Give us courage and strength for our daily journey~ to go where You know souls await hope. ~Amen+
Realizing his error and fearful of being chastised for his haste, he decided to fill the pack with useful and beautiful items he found along his way. ""Perhaps he will praise my ingenuity and careful choices," he thought. First, he picked a bouquet of exquisite, delicate blossoms which bloomed high on a hillside. He reasoned their difficulty to posses gave them value sure to be appreciated. Next, he gathered nuts that had fallen from a tree onto a soft, shaded piece of land- certain their innards were fully intact and were therefore fresh and nutritious. Finally, he was ecstatic to find a perfect golden nugget tucked beneath a rock in the stream. Quite satisfied with his array of gifts and confident that the wise man would praise his finds, he hurried to the town to bestow his choice bounty upon the needy.
His arrival was greeted by a bent over, old woman whose gap-toothed smile expressed her excitement and anticipation of the package he was to deliver. The young man triumphantly held up his backpack with an air of importance and began to withdraw the items one by one. The woman's smile faded to a look of confusion and mistrust. "Are you sure this was sent by the wise man from the next town over?" she hesitantly asked. The young man adamantly pointed to the flowers and described the sheer height he ad been conquered to pick them. He gestured to the fine array of nuts that had been gathered and vowed they were of the finest quality for miles around. His final attempt to convince this seemingly ungrateful woman was to display the golden nugget in such a way as to let the sun glint off the precious mineral and dazzle the woman into being impressed. Surely messages of admiration and immense gratitude would filter back to the wise man and thereby reveal his own cleverness.
By now, the woman's smile had been replaced by an air of disappointment, but she nonetheless motioned for the young man to follow her so that he could deliver the package to the townsman for whom it had been intended. Slowly following the woman's hobbled gait he finally reached the door of a pitifully small, decrepit dwelling. His chest puffed with pride as he envisioned the gratitude from these poor people. He fully intended to let the wise man have all credit believing his own reward would be the sage's praise for representing him with such beauty and riches. The woman opened the door, revealing a dank and dark single room with a bed in the center. As the young man's eyes adjusted to the darkness he noticed the form a frail man lying in the bed lifting a withered hand to beckon his visitor closer. "Sir," the old woman addressed the young man, "please bend to my husband's ear for he is blind and can not see." Then she spoke loudly to her husband to describe the blossoms his eyes would never see, the nuts that his long ago lost teeth would never crunch as he could only take in liquid these days. She held the gold that had excited the young man with it's promise of status and wealth against her husband's gnarled fingers while she feebly described it as a yellow rock hoping her husband would find some joy or understanding in these odd gifts selected by the wise man. The dying old man drew in, what was evidently, one of his last few breaths in order to acknowledge the gifts his wife had valiantly tried to describe with enthusiasm.
The old woman bid their guest goodbye with a sad smile as her husband labored to breathe behind her.
The young man journeyed home and his thoughts were a jumble of confusion. Feeling he had failed his mission miserably he sought the wise man upon his return. "Please," he implored the wise man, "tell me what you would have sent to this man who could neither see nor eat. What could have made a difference to this couple? Was the package supposed to be medicine or perhaps money for a new house? Why were they disappointed with what I provided? Please, I must know." The wise man slowly reached into his pocket and held out a simple piece of paper upon which these words were written:
"Peace is coming- don't lose hope. You shall be in Paradise soon. You shall have no more tears, no more pain. You are not alone and you are loved very much."
The young man thought back to his time with the dying man and his crippled wife and was flooded with embarrassment as he realized how utterly useless his choice of gifts had been. He was saddened to think he had robbed this needy couple of the comfort they surely desired and would have found is those wise words during their most difficult hour.
At a loss for words of his own, the young man, who had sought to impress the wise man with his own brand of wisdom, realized his folly... he had chosen gifts to be given in another's name based on his own perspective and priorities.
Lord, help us to seek You in the beginning of each new day so that we can receive all You have intended for this day's journey (GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY BREAD). May we humbly seek Your wisdom so we may honestly offer Your gifts instead of our beliefs of what is needed. Dear Creator, You made all- You know all! Help us to trust Your choice of people we encounter, hardships we are to endure, gifts we are to share. Thank you for allowing us to be your hands and feet. Give us courage and strength for our daily journey~ to go where You know souls await hope. ~Amen+
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