Easter People

  Did you know there are 40 days in Lent but 50 days of Easter?  Alleluia- the time for somber reflection and sacrifice gives way to the JOY of the Resurrection!  During the Easter Vigil our Pastor, Fr. Larry Richards, reminded us of the importance of being a Resurrection people.  Though we will go through trials and sacrifice- that's not where our minds are to rest.  We are loved- that's what Easter is all about.

  On Good Friday, I was struggling with my son having a scheduled game, when I wanted him at the service with me.  I'm well aware there will be thoughts on both sides of this struggle.  I'll just say that a quick comment, "let go of the guilt!," from a supportive friend, was a balm that primed my heart for the message delivered during the Easter Vigil, "Live like you are loved!"  We were even encouraged to keep a log for 50 days revealing how we are loved: (i.e. Day 1: Today God showed His love for me by....)


  It's true that it's easy to have a self focus.  Easier yet, to let that focus fall on all we are doing wrong.  What if...it's not about us?  A novel idea, I know.  What a freeing, beautiful thought- that we are loved simply for being us...not for what we do.  Time to rest in the glory of His Love for us- and to turn to those around us and shower that love on them...just because they exist.
  
But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us. (Romans 5:8) NAB

Pass it on <3

Creative Spaces

  Up here in my little wooden room I have a view on the "goings on" in my yard.  It might not be the hustle and bustle of a New York City street that parades under my window but I'm very much at peace with that.

  This was a hard earned view.  When we first moved in to our house eight years ago, this room was "my space."  I was thrilled to be able to set up a creative haven in the very room I used to sleep in while visiting my grandparents as a young girl.  The whole full-circle thing added a cool vibe to the room that was already unique in design.  And better yet...it was to be mine...all mine.  This lasted until sibling rivalry, cramped quarters, and a son's desires for a space to be "his...all his" moved me to the open landing at the top of the stairs.  Beautiful white vases chock full of paint brushes, artist pads, and sharpie markers that once were confined behind a coded lock now beckoned the creativity of all who passed by...probably even the visiting neighborhood kids.  It appeared no-one could resist the call.  It was only a matter of time until a play room was needed for the kids and I headed for the first floor to share an office space with my husband, which was wonderful in theory not so much in reality.  That freshly painted, eclectically decorated space was to exist as an artists den for a nano-second anyway.  The son who needed his own space apparently needed more than a hallway to separate him from the clattering of youngsters and headed to the first floor to kick off his teenage independence from early bedtimes, night-time stories, and little kid stuff.  So, I was back to the second floor and life in full swing.  I don't even think I unpacked fully, just kind of kept dumping more on the surfaces until the coolest thing upstairs was the obstacle course comprised of Mom's junk, bins of Lego's, flowy dress-up costumes, Nerf swords, and boxes of papers that found a home there each time company was coming.

  When we decided it was time to actually finish the drywall upstairs I was like a restless nomad, wandering until, against better judgement, I moved my beloved articles to the laundry room in the basement.  Yes, these inspirational novels, paints, sketchpads, journals, and pictures which once whispered creative sweet-nothings to me now rebelled in silence covered in one layer of dust, a hint of cobwebs and a fine sheen of dryer lint.

  Funny how life brings out a simple truth that less is best.  I learned to create at the kitchen table and journal in bed before falling asleep, or scrawl in whichever half-used spiral notebook was closest at hand .  My Grandmother, who lived in this very house had a saying that brings it all home, "It is what it is."  True that.  I learned this truth in time to witness my oldest son grow up and follow his heart to yet another space that would be his...all his; an apartment in a neighboring town.  I'm glad we could give him the space he needed while it was needed.  My love of stringing words together doesn't need it's own space -- though it's GREATLY appreciated.  And truth be told, I can doodle on a t.v. tray if need be. 

  The night our eldest moved out, his first-floor room was occupied by the second eldest who had been rooming in this wooden space I am writing from.  Though I had to kick his roommates out to get this space I am BACK!!  I'm now allowing those roomies; two stuffed bears, a glassy eyed buck, a turkey in full flight, a fluffy fox-squirrel, and a beady-eyed black squirrel wander like nomads.  And here's some good news- I've only developed a SLIGHT eye twitch since the eldest daughter casually sized up my space and dropped several non-subtle hints about the unfairness in which her brothers had been able to have their own rooms and she was sharing with two sisters. 

twitch...twitch...twitch 

Gonna Be A GOOD Day

  Thank You God, for another day.  Yes, it's cold.  Yes, there is yet again another 2 hour school delay for these seven children.  And yet, it is a new day. 

  A new day is a chance to see things through a new perspective.  It's not necessary to view THIS day as "same ol'...same ol'."  A fresh outlook began brewing as I lay under the blankets listening to the trickling water from the aquarium outside my door.  The whirring of warm air blowing from the floor radiator a foot from the edge of my bed began to stir my consciousness awake.  I had TIME.  Time to be mindful of YOU and to welcome You into the day- come what may.  I then rolled out of bed onto my knees to offer back that which has been given in this day and there on the wall was a tiny rainbow refracted from my window. 

Thank you.

Gonna be a GOOD day.

 

Peanuts In The Pews...

  This past Sunday I was standing for the closing song of Mass with my three youngest children.  As "Hark the Herald Angels Sing " was piped from the organ and the congregation sang its farewell to the Christmas season I was surprised by the verve with which my eight-year-old son joined in with "GLORY tooo the newborn King."  I was further amazed when my four-year-old joined in with equal gusto, "Peace on Earrrrth and mercy mild."   My heart swelled as I thought, "Finally, they're getting it!"  I could not believe they were singing...let alone getting the words correct without even seeing the verses in front of them!  Before I could fully process my joy in the moment my mouth went slack with glee or perhaps absolute astonishment when my ten-year-old leaned his head in to join his siblings as they all bellowed "God and sinner reconciiiiiled."  My amazement morphed into an exasperated yet irrepressible amusement as the congregation paused to breathe before the next verse and my four-year-old daughter, Evie, shouted "Merry Christmas Charlie Brown!"

  Well...that certainly explains a lot...My children had been fascinated with the Charlie Brown Christmas book their Bushia (Polish for Grandma) had bought them.  It came complete with interactive sound buttons throughout...Including the verses, picture of the scrawny, little Charlie Brown Christmas tree in the back, and the button to push that had the Peanuts gang singing this very song.  

  All these years of encouraging interaction and participation in the Mass...and Charlie Brown could accomplish that?  Hey...Joyful, all ye nations rise!  This is fantastic.  Join the triumph of the skies!  My kids were singing and with angelic host they proclaimed..."Christ is born in Bethlehem!"

   It's all good.  Mr. Charles M. Schulz, you were one wise man!

Holidays bring Strength...without attending gym

  A beautiful Merry Christmas Season to you all!  We are in the phase of this holiday that brings a reminiscent picture to the mind of all that we had thought the festivity of this time of year might bring and are rounding the corner into a look forward at the New Year...

  This year I am reveling in the fact that we are rounding the corner...  Not gonna lie, the home run stretch of this calendar year has been grueling for my family.  My husband, Steve, hurt his back right around the time the scent of sharpened pencils filled the air and big yellow school buses were making a re-appearance after a long summer.  We went through a terrible crisis of not knowing if this injury was THE injury that would not only be the straw that broke the camel's back but might disable my husband's as well.  Time would reveal that his injury was acute and not permanent but his doctor would dictate it was time to find something less stressful on Steve's frame than construction company he spent thirteen years building.  Now, I don't want to focus on the fact that this was supposed to be MY year.  After seventeen years of rearing seven children my youngest was making her scholastic debut by beginning pre-school.  My family and friends had all asked, "Suz, what will you do with your time?" often enough that I had filled my mind with trips to the beach with easel and watercolors in tote, envisioned the toned physique that a free four-hour block five times a week could bring... if I hit the gym.  The possibilities were endless. 

  However, my life-experience should have prepared me for the tough road being paved over my field of dreams.  Don't get nervous-- I'm not going to have a pity party or throw a rant...I've already done that in private...buried under my covers...with a box of tissues....many times.  Yes, while my poor aching hubby's back rested on the couch while healing and his work truck was laid to rest until our eldest could devote his teen angst-driven energy to making it road-worthy I was chauffeur to all, nurse to hubby, and had become the go-to gal for whatever needed answered, mended, cooked, fixed, etc.  I have profound respect for the duties done by single parents.  In the meantime, our faithful Big Blue Chariot decided to pitch a fit and resign from it's duty of carting up to 15 passengers.  As a matter of fact, it flat out resigned without a moments notice and refused to carry even one passenger- which I felt was rude and insensitive.

  With the healing and career change research underway the pressure was mounting and I began to borrow some of the worry that had plagued my husband with sleepless nights.  Decisions needed to be made...life-changing, course-altering choices.  Perhaps that didn't appear to bring us to our knees so our beautiful children thought they could help with that and decided to act their ages...in this profoundly entitled culture.  Honestly, I can't even begin to share some of the "discussions" that I was subjected to...not necessarily involved in.  They did not get the "no rant memo."  I am pleasantly surprised I still have hair and the wrinkles that have been added to my face this year are deepened by loss of elasticity when one loses weight...that is a good thing right?  Lie to me.

  Anyway, interestingly enough...time does have a way of passing and bringing changes- like it or not.  You can be grateful I didn't drag you through the painful details on a daily basis but can announce that Steve did get a job with the City.  He's a few weeks into it so the awkward pangs of change are beginning to subside and he is chipper on most days when I pick him up in my NEW (to me) five passenger car!  I know right?  Dropping 10 passenger seats makes me feel like I'm slimming down in many areas of life. 

  I've learned first-hand and through real-life practicality that the season of Advent, which is the four weeks leading up to Christmas are a time of preparation and not a time to leap headfirst into the Christmas carols, and store ads.  An income-halting injury followed by a jobs lag in pay tends to "help" one focus on patience and preparation.  In retrospect, I can acknowledge these were GIFTS.  Admittedly- these dips and valleys in our journey are not phases we would CHOOSE... yet, as a wise priest said, "I think when you are elderly- you will look back on this time and be grateful for all that came out of these difficulties...it will take some time- probably when you are old and gray."  I appreciated that he acknowledged these WERE difficult times... as well as his assumption I would still have hair when I am old.  The adage seems to prove true: That which doesn't kill us makes us stronger. With all this "resistance training" that has naturally occurred, perhaps having free time to spend in a gym is overrated after all ;)

Scare with a Silver Lining

  "Sus, there's no silver lining in this!"  These were the words delivered by my husband after the police officer left our house on Saturday evening. 

  My oldest son was the victim of a scam perpetrated by a drifter coming to our house while my eldest was home alone.  This stranger first craftily discovered that we weren't home then wove a tale depicting himself as a contractor who had recently spoken with my husband, who is a contractor by trade and had his truck with his logo parked out front.  He proceeded to paint the hard-luck picture that he had been towed through no fault of his own and needed $34 to get his truck back.  With the belief  this man was an acquaintance of his Dad and would return the borrowed money plus extra for inconvenience, my son decided to help this man.  He allowed the stranger in his car and drove him to the bank where he was further swindled into "just in case of taxes" money equaling a total of $50 of my son's hard-earned wages.  Out of the goodness of his heart my son then offered to drive this man to get his non-existent truck.  Thankfully, he declined with declarations of gratitude and "you've helped me out so much, man." 

  You can imagine that my jaw dropped incrementally with each frightening detail  until it hovered just above my kneecaps.

   After the police had been summoned (and recognized- turned out our officer was a relative of a relative...small world), reports taken of this 6'1", very well mannered man with a beard the drifter was located.  Of course he lied again- saying he'd return the money in the morning once his parents wired him funds.  Sad to say there was no resolution.  Legally there was nothing the police could do.  Our son had "willingly" handed money to this man.

  My son was angered at the thought of his lost funds.  My husband was horrified that this man had the audacity to come on our property and approach our child.  I couldn't stop the trailer of horrific "could-have happened" video from playing through my mind.  This scammer was in a car...alone...with my son- who drove him to a bank and used his debit card to withdraw money and hand it over.

  I hate that my son's trusting acceptance has been tarnished if not obliterated.  However, if he had to be swindled, at least it was in a non-violent manner that could perhaps stop him from being so gullible and hurt in the future.  The silver lining was in the golden cast of our son's Guardian Angel that answered the door with him and wrapped those wings around him on the drive to the bank and nudged that man on his way instead of accepting a ride elsewhere.  I am grateful this lesson on the hard-knocks of life cost  mere dollars, anger, frustration, and lost trust...and not the stuff of headlines that could have ruined us with tears for life.

  I share this with you to remind you to cover those you love with prayers for protection each and every day...and of course, to have those safety discussions that might prevent dangerous situations.  If there must be tough lessons learned...would that they be learned from "nice" bad guys.

Just Right...or Just WRITE!

  But what if I have nothing to say?  Write anyway.

  But...what if my writing is awful?  You will make others feel really comfortable in their abilities.

  Ok- I can dig those responses to the voice that continues to plague my creative urge.  Plagued or not- I'm NOT stopping.  I WILL write until the words are no more... then..I.. will..squeak...out..a..few...more...syllables. 

Why?  Because I can.  And because it is a responsibility- a joyful one at that!

There is a certain freedom in realizing that perfection is overrated and just putting a thought out into the starry universe might actually encourage someone to leap their latest hurdle or perhaps put words to that haunting melody that won't loosen it's grip on free memory space- not even at 3 a.m.

  What are we waiting for?  Time to live our BEST lives now.

  I was looking at the fraying curtains hanging in my living room today and instantly thought of the crisp white linens I had been saving for summer- sadly, still packed in the storage bin in my attic.  Why are they packed away in my attic at the start of September?  Because I was imagining them hung when my walls are freshly painted and carpet is laid.  Such a silly thought- they weren't even brand new when I bought them.  Why not hang them and have crisp white curtains that freshen the room? 

  What good is waiting to WRITE until the wordsmithing genie grants that illustrious sentence which oozes chic and humorous undertones to the intelligent, deep, and thought-provoking wisdom we'd like to share with the world?  What if we wait to journal until the children have given us memorable events that we can pass on to their children's children?  What if we let minutes, hours, days, months, and years go by without recording a simple sentence that made us smile.  What if we forget that it's ok to JUST WRITE- especially when no one else will read it?  We will end up with blank pages and fuzzy memories of a distant day that held no importance to the grand scheme of life- except to that child that asks "Mommy, what did I used to do that made you laugh?"  One of my favorite journal entries is a simple recording of what I was doing in that very moment- Laying in bed at the close of day with my husband softly breathing beside me and my newborn son snuggled up close to my heartbeat.  I then sketched that moment (to the best of my sketchy ability) so I wouldn't forget the tenderness within those very minutes.  How grateful I am to have that memory, from ten years ago, to pull out.

  Perfection is a plague...the cure is simply- put pen to paper, paintbrush to canvas...heck..paper is fine too!  Lend your voice to the wind, let your feet leap about, share a thought with another soul, photograph your favorite scene, plant a seed and watch the miracle that unfolds, pick up that hammer and hang that picture you are storing on your spare room floor...will a bit of crookedness rob it of the initial surge of beauty that stirred your soul?  There's a reason the logo "Just Do It" was so grandly applauded-- our thoughts can stop what is meant to be enjoyed, shared, and lived out.  Perhaps still the thoughts and trust your instincts- have fun and Just WRITE!

  

Happy Birth-ing Day Mom!

It's my birthday...Yay to the past 43 years I've been on this Earth! 

It's my BIRTH day... an ode to the mother who pushed through the contractions, pain, and terrific storm that blew into the Cleveland area during the hours of my arrival to greet, kiss, and welcome her fifth born child.

  Mom...Mommy...Mother...Mama... you have the gift of Joy that enables you to see Faith when others see failure.  You are the mother of twelve children and you cherished us as greater than any physical wealth that could have lined your pockets, adorned your neck, ears, or fingers with costly jewels.  You valued LIFE above all the stress that could come with adding another to your table, home, or already packed station wagon... For this,  I thank you. You offered me my breath in order that I may fill my lungs with the hope of eternal life.  You fashioned my legs, hands, and feet that I may travel through this life bringing a bit of joy, sustenance, and comfort to others that I will interact with throughout my own existence.  You could have easily stopped being open to life after the first, second, third, or fourth child...and even after my own birth...yet you allowed twelve children to grow within your heart and home always knowing there was a greater plan than the thought of your own comfort.  You even gifted us with three more souls in Heaven that would pray for us to be able to one day meet them since they were to only see your womb before being called home.  How does one give thanks for something so grand as the opportunity to gaze upon stars, learn from the hardships and hilarities of a huge family, swim in oceans, lakes, and ponds, meet thousands of people from around the globe, drink in glorious sunsets, marvel at the moonlight, slink through misty gardens, dance across a flower-laden field...revel in life-changing relationships, and ultimately offer new life to this world through my own gift of motherhood.

Mom, I don't know that I can ever properly fashion the correct words to let you know I am so very grateful for your willingness to generously offer the gift of life to your fifth-born child. As your fourth daughter I know that there has always been a press on you for your time- I am in awe of your talents to bring fun to every day as I face my day-to-day mothering of my own seven children.  Thank you for the gift of my life.  Thank you for the gift of Faith.  Thank you for loving me into my adult life.  I love you Mom.  Happy Birth-ing day!    

I See Skies of Blue...

Summer is here!  Yes, HERE...as in "x marks the spot"!  Who would have thought that whilst we were still shoveling out the great-white North, the seedlings buried underground were busy doing their seedling business.

  And now, as temperatures soar and the skies turn a brilliant blue there is a hazy buzzing that fills the air somewhat sweetly (if you don't think about the fuzzy wood bees that are making that particular music).

 "All good things come to those who wait."  "Patience is a virtue." "To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven."   "Turn, turn, turn."...and so on...

  Basically, I'm saying...it IS summer...officially SUMMER.  The summer solstice happened three days ago...soooo-- no take backs! 

  Cool ideas- not original...but fun:  ride bikes, swim in the lake or ocean (if desperate- puddles do count) , catch fireflies, roast marshmallows, build s'mores, go camping, tube a river, lay on the grass and point out bunnies and angels in the clouds (if desperate- anything can look like a rhino), eat a popsicle, have a campfire, teach a child a campfire song, catch a bull-frog or hand that task to a teen-age boy or brave four-year old girl, roll down a grassy hill, star gaze, find beach glass, go fishing, [insert your ideas here].

  Whatever you do to celebrate summer- do it with GUSTO and relish the moment!

  For...   “It was June, and the world smelled of roses. The sunshine was like powdered gold over the grassy hillside.” ― Maud Hart Lovelace, “Some of the best memories are made in flip flops.” ― Kellie Elmore,  “And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald


 

 

Silent Night...sort of

"Giiiiirls," I want to roar to my daughters and niece loudly giggling upstairs, "go to SLEEP!"  But I don't.  I just sit here on the couch, tucked under my new Christmas gift- a heated fleece blanket, and listen to the symphony of gently competitive snores composed by my husband and chocolate lab pup.  I watch what was once a roaring fire simmer down to winking embers and cast a lazy glance at the frozen screen on my t.v.  Why, I wonder, would anyone want to watch the next episode of Shark Week on Netflix?  Especially during the Christmas octave...what happened to all the sweet Holiday movies which accompanied the wee hours filled with wrapping and baking a mere week ago?  I will keep this question to myself and allow my tired husband to peacefully snooze away lest he defend why he chose this as night time viewing pleasure to begin with.
 However, on this particular night...at 11:45 p.m. when all is finally reaching a near state of calm in our home which houses 9 of us (plus said niece for the night) I prefer to sit and take in the sound of the furnace softly whirring, hear the water that runs as our soon to be 17 year-old brushes his teeth.  I look over at the dangling foot of our ten-year old curled up, fast- asleep on the recliner (hey, it's vacation...and three of his siblings were allowed to fall asleep in our bed), and I am grateful for the ordinary moments.

  This has been a holiday of the glorious mundane.  I did not go out much.  I did a gazillion loads of laundry and loaded the dishwasher countless times.  I made several pots of hot chocolate to warm fingers that were numbed in soaked mittens now littering every inch of heater vent on the first floor...maybe the second floor as well.  I picked up dozens of candy wrappers from now-flattened stockings and swept up more than a few broken ornaments- and I am Peaceful.  I am content.  I do not feel short-changed by viewing smiling faces from the Bahamas on Facebook and I can not even claim to feel ashamed that I did not get out family photos in Christmas cards...well, hope springs eternal...I still have a bit of time.  I AM thankful for every card and photo that arrived in our mail- they put a smile on my face as I walked to the washing machine for the umpteenth time.  I am happy to "just be" these days.
  I am simply grateful that in my life, which feels precarious right now with my oldest sister fighting for her life against an incredibly progressed state of cancer and a brother-in-law battling to breathe due to cancer...I can have these rare moments that feel normal and PEACE-full.  I know tomorrow is a new day with new beauties and different challenges...but THIS moment...this quiet time...is for reveling in.  Even the giggling upstairs has mellowed to an occasional muffled "sshhh" above me.
 Well, hello...what's this?  My eldest son, done brushing his teeth pokes his head around the corner "Good night Mom."  "Good night son, I love you."  "So," he asks, "Have you given any thought to my birthday request?" Uuuum, I feel a bit like a deer in the headlights as I honestly cast around in my weary memory-bank but come up empty-handed.  "Sorry honey, I'm drawing a blank here." He casts a glance toward his sleeping father and bravely reminds me, "about the tattoo? Ok...good night then, I'd like to talk with you and Dad together...soon."  Siiigh...I was wise to revel in the Peace while I could.  Well, perhaps I'm to realize in the scope of issues out there...this is small.  And if he is the first of seven children...this will one day feel mundane.  One day.
  My faded fire has found it's second wind...the heater has kicked on again.  I figure I must have strength and composure stored up in me somewhere.  I'm sure my sister would give anything for a son's tattoo to to be the most dramatic thing she could imagine as opposed to her markers being "off the charts."  I'd be willing to bet my heated fleece that my other sister would gladly tattoo "Alleluia" across her forehead if her husband could heal from this dreaded disease.
  It is quiet again.  Silent Night.
 I am Peaceful. Holy Night. 
I am grateful for the many blessings of this moment and for every grace I've been given to help me slow down and appreciate these very moments...where at present...All is Calm.

     

TRIumph is launched and NOW AVAILABLE!

  An amazing...and surreal evening- one week ago tonight.  My family was introduced and the mic was turned over ... with expectant eyes falling upon me while they awaited "the story". 

  It had been four years and some months since my husband and I discovered the seventh child we were expecting was diagnosed with Trisomy 18 while in the womb.  Briefly- and it's ok if you don't know what this genetic condition is because we surely didn't until we faced it- Trisomy18 is a chromosomal defect which deemed our son "incompatible with life."  When we asked how long would we have with our son we were told, "Most children with this condition, who survive birth, will not live to see their first birthday."

  We lived through the exasperating unknowns and were blessed to give birth to John Michael and hold our son for 48 hours before he was to go home- to heaven. 

  Seems so strange to be able to write that so simply...never without emotion...always with a full heart. 

  I have written the full story of this experience and am excited to share that the book launch was a wonderful, dreamy success and the book is now available and offered with the HOPE that the insights, LOVE, and understanding we gained along the way might give solace to all as they face their own dark period of difficulty.  The book is called TRIumph: A Story of Finding Hope In A Love That Knows No Bounds.  You can learn more, and if desired, purchase TRIumph at www.triumph-story.com

  Thank you so much for your support, love, and prayers over the years.

  **My son, I know you came to this earth- and our family for a short time and with a specific purpose. Already I have witnessed the large impact you made on our family and community- what an honor that has been. As your story begins to take flight...it shall be with fond remembrance of your heart beating under my own...that I thrill to the reality that others will have the chance to "meet you" and learn of Love that comes with the Peace of a surrendered will . ** ~Mommy to son   

Inspiration Strikes When Memory is Jogged..Now I must Jog...

  Surround yourself with like-minded people...I have heard this phrase way more than once...yet, it now calls to me from the site of another blogger. 

  Last week, while scrolling Facebook, I stumbled upon the writings of a former high school classmate.  I was immediately drawn in by the photos she had posted and the street names she wrote of which jogged my memory and tugged my heartstrings.  The grape vineyards she described let me know she had made her home in the vicinity of my own upbringing--Harborcreek, Pennsylvania.  I can't explain the feelings that surged as I read through the events which comprised her day...and though now a "West-sider," reminded me of my own.

  The surprise came as I viewed her captions and photos describing tough workouts found in reconnecting with nature and the friendships born of meeting others during the journey she had embarked on--the challenge of meeting and surpassing her own limits.  In an odd, distant, whispered way I heard a kindred voice calling my name.  At first it was a novelty as I tried to mesh the memory of my sweet-natured school friend with the physically fit, determined, inspirational young woman encouraging those, such as myself, who wandered into her world through snapshots of her life, to reject our own limited vision of ourselves and strive for strength.  But it has since become a louder invitation, in the voice that remains sweet- yet wizened with experience and well...life.  I have embraced this vision that I just may have some physical strength waiting to be set free from the aging mindset I had handcuffed myself to.  Granted, I have begun on the path to healthy eating several months ago...but to purposely join a group dedicated to sucking the marrow of life from a frigid night's offer to push your limits in 7 degree weather...I concede this thought never occurred to me...yet strangely holds appeal!  I have marinated this type of challenge that appeared heinous and grueling at first then gradually receded into awe before  blossoming into possibility this very morning.  My baby steps in this direction included a jaunt to the local middle school to sled-ride with five of my seven children.  I returned home soaking wet, chilled to the bone..and EXHILARATED with the fact that I DID IT!  It's been a couple years since I went down a hill on a sled for fear of damaging my lower back...not only did I sled ride down the hill...I hiked back up carrying a toddler on my hip!  (Full disclosure-regular doctor check-ups and losing the 25 pounds in the last five months was a huge bonus!).

  I am sure I will visit her blog often, find joys as she shares them and perhaps rekindle a friendship over time.  I admit I am looking toward my own future with a breath of fresh air as I reminisce the robust rural scenes my friend had photographed through her viewfinder utilizing her unique interpretation of life.  I have been blessed to see that although I feel at odds with the world due to my life circumstances of a large family, a house under construction, and children that are thoroughly loved yet not always fully understood, I am not alone in this journey of life.  We all have our own preconceived ideas of what life will be like- it takes a brave soul to write about the reality of the life that is lived out day in and day out.  No two journeys will ever be a mirror image of each other- but in the differences- beauty and wonder can be discovered and shared- experience gained through the eyes of another.  Thank you dear, brave, blogging soul for offering a candid snapshot of your life.  In a way, I felt as though I had come home as I wandered into your post.  Thanks for lighting your Lamp and extending the welcome!  I wish you well as you continue on your journey and hope we can one day soon lift a toast to all we have lived through and our futures yet to come!



 

Prepare the Way (by guest blogger Diane Gallagher)

A girlfriend recently texted me to ask for ideas for family prayer as she felt her routine with her kids had become stale and humdrum.  My reply was “what family prayer?”  As we giggled about my response the next time I saw her, I admitted that I was not kidding.  We pray before meals, when we hear an ambulance (thanks to my 3 year old’s reminders) and before bed with the little ones as we tuck them in, but we have lost our commitment to designated family prayer time beyond these moments.  Oh, the aspirations and ideas I used to have! I could have compiled a book with all of my creative concoctions for celebrating the saints or acknowledging important feast days in the Church.  Unfortunately, I put very few into action.  Life gets so busy.  The evenings are chock full of homework, lessons, practices, dinner, baths, and packing lunches.  Prayers are muttered here and there, but often are sadly not prioritized.  There are two times of the year that we actually do a decent job of special family prayer:  Advent and Lent.  We just bought a beautiful new Advent wreath (50% off at Michael’s!) that I was excited to set up in the center of our kitchen table last weekend.  One of our favorite Advent traditions (thanks, Steph!) is to put an empty manger in the middle of our wreath.  Every night after we light our candles and sing “O Come, O Come Emmanuel,” each child shares a good deed they performed that day and puts a piece of yarn or cotton into the crib to make it more comfortable for Jesus after He is born.  I have toyed with the idea of removing a piece for every bad deed they do but decided that Advent is a good time to stay positive.  Sometimes my kids are excited to highlight a plethora of good deeds that they have done that day -- or even better, that they witnessed their siblings doing.  Other times, they struggle to even identify one.  “Did you help anyone today?” “No.” Have a good attitude?” “No.” “Share with anyone?” “No.” “Ok, did you have a nice thought about someone?”  Once in a while, they simply do not get to add to the “mattress pad” for Jesus.  I felt badly on Sunday when one of my children would not contribute a good deed because he did not feel he had done anything worthy of it.  I also was glad to see that he had a conscience and took it seriously.  Fortunately, they all usually have something to add or this exercise would get a little depressing.  Needless to say, it has become a helpful daily reminder for all of us. In fact, it is really something we should be doing all year.  It might even be beneficial if we only identified good deeds done with a positive attitude.  I admit, I don’t usually have a shortage of good deeds.  That is what most of my day consists of – doing acts of service for my family.  But I often don’t perform them with a cheerful heart.  This year, as we await the celebration of the birth of Emmanuel, hopefully we can fill our manger with an abundance of comfy cotton.  Even better?  That as the Christmas season fades into Ordinary Time, we keep that Advent Spirit alive – good deeds, focused prayer time and all.  

HUG (by Diane Ghallager)

 (Guest Blogger Wednesday :)   My 1 yr old’s favorite book right now (thank you Aunt Chris!) is titled “Hug” – and that is the only word in the entire book.  It is an endearing story told mostly through illustrations about a little monkey named Bobo who watches the other jungle babies hugging their Mommies but can’t find his.  You can imagine his joy when he is reunited with his mother at the end.  A very simple yet real message.  We all need hugs and affection, probably more than lots of words.  I am not a big hugger by nature.  I have deep feelings for people but am not always comfortable expressing it externally.  That coupled with the craziness of life sometimes inhibits me from reaching out to my husband, children, family and friends in this physical display of affection.  Fortunately, my kids take after their Dad and are big snugglers.  I am so often in business mode and focus more on logistics when I am interacting with people instead of physically reaching out.  This may sound completely pathetic to some of you more touchy/feely types, but I have to sometimes mentally remind myself to hug my older children before I run out the door or stop my dinner prep to go greet my husband.  I will admit, my hugs come more naturally with my little ones who are so cuddly.  Though it is not my strong suit, I do believe in the importance of hugs and think they can often be the best medicine… and worth a thousand words.  After a recent Diocesan football championship game (we lost by 1 pt!), there was a poignant moment when the starting quarterback for our team walked over to his mother on the sidelines and simply hugged her.  I don’t know if words were exchanged, but they didn’t need to be.  He was deflated, and she comforted him with the best remedy a mother can offer… a hug. 

I wonder if this is why some people can find it more challenging to develop a more personal relationship with Jesus.  We like to hug flesh and blood which we cannot do with God in the ways we humans know and appreciate best.  Yes, we know He loves us.  He sends us signs and answers our prayers.  He speaks to us through others, and we receive Him in the Eucharist, but we can’t literally hug Him like we can those among us on earth.  My pastor encourages us after we receive communion to close our eyes and allow Jesus to hug us.  He does this at every Mass.  As a result, I try to do this with my kids – I ask them to sit and close their eyes and imagine Jesus hugging them.  With my 3 yr old, I will even take her upon my lap and suggest that she pretend I am Jesus who is hugging her…to help make it real and tangible and comforting.  I need to be able to hug Jesus, not talk at Him or complain or ask or thank.  Just hug.  And I need to allow Jesus to hug others through me, not just my 3 yr old sitting on my lap after communion.  Big, tough football players need hugs and little monkeys like the one in Elly’s favorite book do too.  Simple act and simple message with big results.  Just hug. :)

"HOLLAAA" FOR MOMS IN PICTURES!

  Susan is back!

  Hollaaa!  --slang for Holler...which is slang for "That's what I'm talkin bout!" ...which is the old "I know, right?  All of these statements represent the whole idea of a SHOUT OUT!  And for those of you who are still utilizing your ninth grade grammar books to comprise your English vocabulary...I don't know if I can help you...(now you're thinkin' WHATEV....which used to be Whatever!  See, I'm trying to be compassionate here.) 

  In the words of my two-year-old, "Mama, I was cryin' for you!"  And in similar words of my five-year-old "Where have you been, Mama?" 

  My answer---I honestly don't know.  I think somewhere between baby number one and baby number seven I spread myself too thin but refused to let go--Thank the good Lord!  These sentiments are coming from last nights experience of looking at past photos with my ten-year-old, eight-year-old, and five-year-old.  Of course their stall tactics of happening upon their manila folders of themselves worked.  How could I possibly resist the crooning of "Oh, look how chubby I was"?  It was much more darling coming from my son viewing himself as a baby than if I were reflecting on my ample figure after giving birth to said baby.  Laughing to myself at the innocent pleasure of viewing his roly-poly arms and dimpled smiles, I began to notice how few photos held my image.  I knew full-well the lack of my full-bodied existence was intentional--on my prideful part.  But as my son held up one professional picture wherein I was lifting him up and smiling an open-mouthed grin of selfless joy while I peered into his baby face he giggled and uttered, "Aaaaaaw!" 

  That said it all.

  He was seeing his Mama hold and love him.  He did not see the roundish arms that I could clearly recall being self-conscious about during the photographic sitting.  My eight-year old's eyes scanned the photo and his grin was evidence that he was taking in every single detail as his five-year-old brother was pouting aloud, "where are my baby pictures like that?"  That's a whole other story...

  I just read another mother's article about "staying in the picture" and tears rolled down my cheeks as I related to her words and emotions about embarrassment over unkempt hair and drooled on shirts that led to a desire to stay out of pictures in favor of letting the "cuter subjects" be photographed.  How ironic to look at these photos last evening and then have this mother, unknown to me,  reach across cyber space to affirm the importance of allowing our Love to be photographed throughout the years.

  Like slang, which has the ability to morph overnight, our bodies, as mothers,  can dramatically shape-shift over the years-- perhaps this is our superhero "gift".  Superman flew, Spiderman shot web and slung himself from towering heights, and  Batman--well, he had a cool car and an awesome toolbelt (Wham!).  A mother's body can stretch to accomodate a new human life and "pillow" that young life with a soft and curvy comfort to soothe away hunger, scrapes, and hurt feelings.  I know there are other female superheros out there...though currentlyt I can only envision Wonder Woman in her tight corset and high-heeled boots..."WHATEV.."!  I didn't have a cape on in the photo when I held up my son and smiled my love into his sweetie, kissy, lubby baby face...but I did have my Mama heart pinned on my sleeve...and all was good in his world as he viewed that seven-years later.  His mama loved him then, loves him still.  I think I'll go find my daughter and kiss her in front of the camera in all my mismatched sock, frizzy-haired glory--I know, right?!?

You Can't Always Get What You Want (by Diane Gallagher)

 (Guest Blogger Wednesday :) I want to get a massage.  I need to get my hair cut.  Both require money (in varying amounts), babysitting arrangements and planning (pitiful to say that it takes planning for me to get my haircut, but that is my reality) but the former is something I can live without while the latter is a necessity for me. These are obvious examples, but sometimes it can be a little trickier to distinguish between a want and a need.  I remember a friend of mine from years gone by who used to challenge me if I would use the word “need” incorrectly. “I NEED to go shopping for a new bathing suit.”  He would reply, “You NEED a new bathing suit?  Or do you WANT one?”  Needless to say, that would annoy the heck out of me sometimes, but it did make me stop and think.  I would like to do a better job for myself and my children in distinguishing between the two on a daily basis … And maybe only fulfilling the wants when it is peaceful, financially and physically.  If we refer to the tried and true “Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs,” we all know what it is we really need:  food, shelter, security, love.  Not a ski club membership, splash lagoon birthday party, or an ipod touch.  It is a wonderful perk when we can give our children something that they want beyond what they need, but it can actually be a helpful tool in growing up to be told “no” and learn how to accept it gracefully.  I detest saying “no” to my kids when it is something I know they really want. Not a strong suit of mine.  I will admit, however, that when I do find I have to deny them, you may hear me singing the refrain to “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” while they are whining about the unfairness of life or how depressed they are.  Like I have reiterated in past blogs, the best I can do is try to pray that God will help me to know when prudence and denial are the answer or when a “want” can be fulfilled.  My husband has a tendency to respond with a quick “no” while I swing to the other side of the pendulum with a hearty “yes”… and then we find the right answer (I hope) somewhere in between.

As I mentioned above, I sometimes have a similar struggle in determining my personal wants and needs, not just those of my children.   What do I need each day and what do I want?  The other afternoon, I had an hour before children came home from school and my two “babies” at home were sleeping.  AWWWW …. What to do during this time of peace and quiet?  I could play “Words with Friends”, exercise, do laundry,  start calling room parents (one of my new PTO duties) OR make dinner.  Bummer.  I have to make dinner.  That is what absolutely has to happen right now.  That fulfills a need for my family.  It is not fun.  I can even get irritated that this is how I have to spend my quiet time when there are so many alternatives.  But by doing this mundane task now, I will be better prepared to enter into homework, football preparation, and taxiing my children around this evening, knowing we have a substantial meal at home (that they can scarf down and complain about) in between.  God is so good at meeting my needs as well, but not always my wants.  My youngest was napping and I was making meatballs (a different scenario from aforementioned one).  I muttered under my breath that I hoped Elly slept until I was done because my hands were covered in raw hamburger, and I wanted to get the meatballs cooking. As soon as I finished, I began the arduous task of cleaning up the kitchen when I heard the baby begin to cry.  One of my sons was in the kitchen with me.  When I sighed and said, “I wanted to get these dishes washed before she woke,” he smirked and said “Mom, you can’t always get what you want.  But you got what you needed.”  He was right.  Dinner was cooking on the stove.  Yes, the kitchen was not cleaned but it didn’t need to be…. yet.  All in good time.  All in God’s time.  I do believe He cares about the little things.  I am not saying He reaches down and makes my baby sleep longer or wake up early just to test me (though He can)… He does allow nature to take its course.  But I believe He might nudge me to make a choice or perform a task that He knows would be most peaceful for my family and myself if I allow Him to be part of my daily life.  And I definitely believe that He gives me just what I need whether it is a sleeping baby or the grace to accept disruptions.  The Israelites got manna in the desert though they probably would have preferred a gourmet lamb. My kids want a trip to Disney but just might have to accept a week of camping in Cook Forest.  No, we can’t always get what we want.  Thank goodness. 

TRIUMPH (The book formerly known as Great Is Thy Faithfulness)

  Wanted to address the name change of my book.  The title: formerly, Great Is Thy Faithfulness, is now Triumph (play on the Tri from Trisomy 18). 

  What an amazing journey this writing and publishing process has been.  I feel I've metamorphosed from a woman viewing the world from my broken hearted perch...waaay up in the trees somewhere to a woman fully engaged in getting the story right while interacting with humanity again.  I am not only desiring the transition from my place of brokenness to the healed heart offering learned insights,  I am actively involved---holding a blazing torch these days.  My goal is to ignite an understanding that HOPE can be found in the seemingly darkest moments if there is a will to seek a greater meaning...and there is much to be gained from the pain that was formerly paralyzing.

 The update on this whole process:  I've met, fell in love with, and accepted the cover design!!  So excited for the big reveal (stay tuned)!  The guts of the book are in the very capable hands of the page-layout designer.  She had been waiting very patiently while amazing folk were at work editing and re-editing, and re-editing, and then re-editi..on and on---the good news is the FINAL edit has been received and accepted.  This is PROGRESS, people!  Totally rejoicing over here..invite you to do the same.  I will let you know the status of TRIUMPH as further progress is made!

Thanks for all the prayers---Please keep 'em coming! 

Football and Family (by Diane Gallagher)

(Guest Blogger Wednesday:) In the Gallagher house, Fall means football (participating, watching and Fantasy leagues), closing the pool, a return to homework, raking leaves, picking apples, Octoberfest at St. Joseph’s, cross country and Halloween.  As we near summer’s official end and prepare for one of my favorite seasons, I look at my calendar and shudder…not just from the cooler temperatures.  Our schedule is insane (I know many of you can relate).  Even though we only allow the kids to be in one organized event at a time, we still have 7 children.  Take my word for it – it adds up to many games, practices, rehearsals, lessons and functions.  I have heard experienced parents express that they feel like a taxi or bus, but I can officially declare the same sentiment for the first time.  My husband and I can truly be like ships passing in the night.  Where are we supposed to find family time in the midst of all this craziness?  In our house, it demands a lot of give and take AND a little creativity.

My boys and husband are big football fans.  As a result, a couple of years ago they all participated in a fantasy football league which has now expanded into a lively group composed of good friends and even myself!  I was hesitant to take a team, but my husband encouraged me to, and I have been pleasantly surprised.   It has become a bonding experience with my boys as we conduct the draft together (they give their uneducated mother some helpful hints) and then have to set our teams each week.  More often than not, one of my boys is sitting at the computer asking me who I want to put into the lineup each week while I wash dishes or sweep the kitchen floor.  Prior to my participation in Fantasy Football, I would not have surmised that this activity would be in my future, but I am glad I was willing to put aside my own ideas of how I would like to spend family time and be open to new adventures.  My girls, on the other hand, are not interested in football in the least bit unless it involves attending a game where they can play with friends and dine at the concession stand.  To foster their excitement in the sport, we planned a little party for just our family on Sunday.  The girls helped me prepare a smorgasbord of processed, unhealthy appetizers for the afternoon that they then served to the “men” who were glued to the TV screen.  Once all appetites were satiated, the girls’ excitement wore off and we had to resort to a game of Life until the end of the Brown’s game… but it was a nice family moment until then.  I admit that we have not been faithful to conducting family nights on a weekly or even biweekly basis….and our monthly events are not on any set schedule.  We can sometimes feel like failures in this area when we witness those families who are more disciplined.  But we do attempt to have dinner as a family whenever possible, attend Sunday Mass as a unit and try to find some events that all members enjoy on various levels like our Fantasy Football League and football party.  The boys will make their compromise when we all (sans the little ones) attend Les Miserables at the Playhouse in a couple weeks or when we go apple picking and can our apple sauce sometime in October.   Believe me, they will complain and say they do not want to participate, but I assert with 90% certainty that they will enjoy it and be grateful for these memories in the years to come.  When we are willing to compromise and be creative as a family, all sorts of new possibilities arise -- through football or the French Revolution. :)   

It Takes A Village (by Diane Gallagher)

(Guest Blogger Wednesday :)  In writing these reflections each week,  I take you with me on my journey of life which largely focuses on family and parenting these days. Today, I could not resist following up on a story from a previous blog. If you recall, I shared about my desire for my eldest son to develop an interest in Christian music.  I had scoured iTunes with him, sent him with my husband to a Christian music festival called Creation, and purchased some CDs all to wet his appetite.  Unfortunately, for as much as he enjoyed the festival and attempted to be open, he was not discovering a group or style that satisfied his musical tastes.  You can imagine my delight when he came home from school yesterday and excitedly told me to come to the computer with him.  He logged into YouTube and played a song for me called “God is Enough” by Lecrae.  He admitted that he was even considering downloading the song to his iPod.  I actually got choked up as I listened ... not because the song moved me to that extent but because God had reached out to my son in His own way and time.  And He did this through someone other than my husband or myself.  Ok, this might sound a bit extreme.  After all, it was just one song.  I am not saying Joseph went through a major conversion or anything that dramatic, but it was a good reminder for me that Joe is not just my son, but that he is even more importantly God’s son.  While I think that I have to be the one to influence my children in every area, I realized (once again) that it takes a village to raise a child.  Yes, my husband and I are going to play a big part in that, but God will use different people and situations as well to feed and form their souls.  I am so grateful to my son’s religion teacher who shared this song in class, and I am going to be sure to let her know that. 

Another reminder of this village concept occurred last week when my second oldest quoted something that his youth minister had said at a gathering the week before.  Not only did this assure me that he was listening but that he would actually apply what was said.   I can also remember times my children have mentioned the homily from their school Mass, a lesson from Vacation Bible School or a little gem they heard from their Grandparents.  This can be scary if our children are under the wrong influence, but when we are putting them in good hands, it is reassuring to know that we are not in this alone.  It is actually a great comfort for me as I continue to battle my inadequacies as a parent and recognize my limits and humanness.  As I have said before, I am more aware of my sinfulness now, as a parent, than ever before (that is if you overlook that period of time in high school and college when I went a little astray:) It is so good to be reminded that my children’s future is not just in my hands.  What a relief!  I do not mean to let parents off the hook here, but merely to provide some encouragement.  Whether it is through a religion teacher, a coach, a song or an experience, God will reach out to our children in His time.  The one thing I have been successful at in my parenting is continuing to pray for my children.  I might not do it as much as I want, but I attempt to lift each one of them up to God every day… praying for a litany of things including their teachers, their friends and anyone they encounter.   And always, always asking the Lord to have mercy on me when I fail in my parenting, and to make up (whatever I am not giving them that they need) where I lack.  I must be diligent in paying attention to whom my children are encountering on a daily basis, but then I pray and allow God to complete the mighty work He is doing in each of them, which will continue until the day they die.  A heartfelt thanks goes out to each of you reading this who have contributed to my children’s formation… by your words, your example and your interactions with them.  Be assured that I will do my best to “raise” your children as well.  Thank you, my village!

Dust Bunnies??? You Got Nothin' on Me...

My husband is a contractor.  We gutted our current house WHILE we moved into it (still shuddering).  This was five years ago and we are still under construction.  Therefore it shouldn't surprise anyone that a dumpster appeared in our driveway six days ago and our kitchen disappeared from our home two days ago.  Well, most of it...there IS still a bit of ceiling and lathe and horsehair plaster waiting patiently to make their swan-dive into said dumpster.

  While my cupboards are gone and my dishes have been relocated to the dining room buffet...my dining room table is GROANING, "Why me???"  Because this poor, piled piece of furniture has taken the brunt of kitchen utensil refugees needing to be re-settled.  I feel like defending the state of my home by asking "Doesn't everybody have to step over a toaster oven on the way to the bathroom?" but that's just silly...I do really think the Tupperware shoved into the black soup pot does kind of make the desk "POP." Brings out the lustrous shine of oak patina...maybe I'm on to something...or not.

  Yesterday,our hometown's humidity was heavy enough to make even the anti-winter die-hards pray for a blizzard.  Stress doesn't begin to label the "irritable, grouchy, heavy-sweating, over-crowded dining and living rooms, no kitchen, can't find the stupid toaster-oven" mood that had covered our "haven."  My husband, Steve, and I had just finished an uncharacteristic "snarky" loud exchange (in front of kids...I know-so ashamed) before I walked out on the porch to escape with my morning breakfast of oatmeal, coffee, and a book.  I crossed to the patio table thankful to have a fenced in yard so I didn't have to do an army-man-crawl to avoid the neighbors catching glimpse of my pink nightie at 11a.m.  Everyone that knows me well, knows that I do not operate well in extreme heat.  Add humidity to the heat and we have an emotional "Perfect Storm."  I was grumbling about Steve going dove hunting with the boys while we were surrounded by demolition fall-out so I didn't hear the first high-pitched "Hellllllooooooo" that accompanied an unfamiliar silver car pulling in the driveway.  I was the epitome of the deer in headlights.  I know I've mentioned our 15 passenger blue van in previous posts...well, I wanted to hug or dive for cover behind it for the dignity it would save while the silver car did a turn around then kept moving.  I prayed this friendly lost soul would just need directions for a destination unknown.  I was caught...I was a glistening, red-faced, jammie cladden woman escaping a war zone.  I had been spotted...but I could still justify throwing my oatmeal and scurrying back inside to get Steve to deal with this.  With my hand on the door handle I heard the unmistakable voice of my mother..."Helllooooooo Suuusie!  Do you have tea?"  Uh..I stammered.  We..my..ther... "Mom, is that you?" was all I could manage to the woman hanging with waving arms out of the passenger door.  Kids appeared from the lathe and plaster destruction inside to yell, "Gramma's here!"

  I disappeared inside for a moment then returned with a feeble hello and an explanation we had just ripped our kitchen out...so our house wasn't exactly presentable.  I instantly felt bad that my mother and her friend from church looked uncomfortable...though maybe the look was about my paisley green and blue robe I had ran for while kids circled Gramma.  There was a bit of chit chat while they suggested I stand in the shade from the large van.  Hmmm, was my glistening forehead that apparent...or maybe it was the scent of an overheated woman about to go over the edge??  She's gonna blooow....like a hot potato that hasn't been pierced with a fork to let the steam out.  My mother and her friend were wonderfully kind in their desire to put me at ease and after all, they had no idea what space I had been in.

  Either way...they didn't stay long...and I managed to eat my oatmeal without grossing myself out to much worrying about if a fly had landed on it. As I ate my "brunch" I thought of how Mother Teresa had visited a woman's hut of a home.  The woman was all smiles as she welcomed her guest into her dirt floored abode.  Mother Teresa learned from that and shared that we never have to apologize for our house..it is our home!  I can't imagine what I would have done if Mother Teresa had pulled in my driveway yesterday morning (besides for obvious reasons) but my own mother arriving unannounced with a guest was enough of a challenge.  I suppose it's a lesson for me to remember it's all about the smile that welcomes...not the house. I went back in the house and joined the social media avenue of apologizing to Steve- via texts- kinda fun without the emotional drama...we were able to be silly with each other (smiley faces can work magic). 

  Today, I'm sitting in my home..not a whole lot has changed...humidity still has me sweating...but there is a Peace, that might have a little to do with six children being in school, but mostly due to accepting that this too shall pass...and double bonus: I get to make you feel VERY GOOD about the state of your own home!!