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.

     

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. :)

****

Rib Sauce Recipe ( for 4 lbs spareribs)

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!

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.

"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!

Assuming...

  On an Ash Wednesday, years ago I walked into the personnel dept. on the Navy base in Spain, where I was stationed.  The service man who came to the counter to assist me commented, "I don't understand why Catholics wear ashes to remind themselves of a dead God."  I could only deduce he had seen the ash smudged in the shape of a cross on my forehead.  "What?," I said taken a little by surprise.  "That's not why we wear these ashes."  "Look," he countered, "I'm a Catholic and I never got the whole ash thing or why you pray to statues."  "Well," I began, "the ashes aren't representing God... dead or alive.  They are to remind you, a human, of your own frail existance.  This world isn't forever- it's not our home.  There is a better world waiting and that's why the Priest says the words "man you are dust and to dust you shall return." while he places the ashes on our forehead."  "Oh...well I guess that makes more sense," said the man.  Then he followed with, "So, why do you pray to statues?"  I looked at him and shook my head..."I wouldn't want to be Catholic either if that's what I believed.  We don't pray to statues, they are reminders of those who have gone before us and can 1. Pray for us and 2. Help us get to heaven by the example they set."  I continued on to let him know these Saints are part of our family... the family we are all part of even here on earth (the Communion of Saints)  I bet you have a picture of some family members around your house- they are reminders of your relationship with them.  I then warned him, "If you go around telling other people this is what Catholics believe it not only hurts or stunts your own growth it will further division by turning other people away from the Truths Christ Himself gave us to help us get to Heaven."  I urged this guy to read up on what his faith ACTUALLY teaches and not to rely on what his understanding or memory passes down to him. For myself this was a good reminder to also learn more a about why I believe what I believe.
  AND NOW:  For anyone reading this who has ever been harmed, mislead, emotionally hurt or turned off by a friend, teacher, nun, priest, or even bystander who professes to be Catholic or gives any teaching expressed from the private view of one who is misguided by their own perception of what the Catholic Church teaches...please accept this humble apology from a member of the Catholic church, on behalf of the Real Love that seeks to be known, understood, and embraced as Truth within the Catholic faith.  We are but humans trying to evangelize using Truths passed down from our Creator.  Sometimes those Truths get jumbled in the same way when humans play the game "telephone" and start with one message to be whispered around the circle.  By the time that message gets back to the starting source it is often a mixed up, far-fetched version- sometimes not even close to the original words.  Please understand, when humans are involved, the occasion to error is great.  Do not let those errors deter you on your quest to find TRUTH.