Visitation

Visitation
Artist: Jim Janknegt

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Advent


I don't know if I have mentioned this before, but my daughter's favorite color is purple. She'll wear it if it's purple, or sparkly, or is a tutu. She tells me often that she wants a "purple car, purple scooter, and a purple flower umbrella!" for Christmas or her birthday or whatever it is that we're talking about at the time. Purple, purple, purple. Well let's just say that we had the BEST time at Mass last Sunday when we walked in and what was the entire church dressed in? PURPLE! Yet another reason I love Advent as I do.

One of my favorite Christmas traditions growing up was our family's practice of evening prayer as we gathered around the Advent wreath. I have vivid memories of my brother and I arguing over who got to hold the smoke tarnished silver angel-shaped candle snuffer at the end of our prayer time and snuff out those four cascading candles. And singing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel" was always a happy time for me as mom and dad belted it out in harmony. I thought we were so cool and liturgical and stuff (whatever that meant!). We were the cool protestant family incorporating old world Catholic traditions into our family prayer life. I loved it! I think I loved it most because every time we lit a new candle I knew Christmas was drawing nearer and nearer. 

I loved Christmas! I was the girl who had the lights up in her bedroom in October and Christmas music blaring as I hung them. I decorated my locker at school. I started Nutcracker rehearsals in September. I wore the red and green toe socks and reindeer antlers to school. I relished in the fact that Hobby Lobby always had Christmas decorations and craft supplies on shelves in July. I was the first person out of bed Christmas morning, and my family celebrated like no other. 

It was a morning long affair of morning prayer, stockings, breakfast of homemade sticky buns, and hours sitting around the tree enjoying watching each other open the beautifully wrapped gifts and getting that burst of delight when someone found another one with my name on it. And there was that time right after all the gifts were open when I felt a little disappointed it was all over, but still bursted with the remembrance of all there was still to discover in the packages that lay open at my feet. 

I'd think back in that moment to the same people, in the same room one, two, three, four weeks before and how I didn't know back then what I knew in that moment of what had been secretly waiting tied up under fancy wrapping paper or stashed in some still unknown hiding spot around the house. Or of how every year I had the same joy, the same feeling, the same sense of how everything was wonderful just the way it was in that room at that moment. That was the feeling of Christmas for me. And every Advent I waited  with much anticipation to light that next candle, knowing that the feeling would be there soon.

Now I'm not as eager to celebrate Christmas in the ways I did as a school kid. As John and I blended our family traditions and created our own, we chose to do Advent more simply and to wait to throw up those decorations until Christmas was here, or at least closer. And believe me it was hard. I love having a Christmas tree in the house early, with the lights telling me that these weeks were special and the stress of the ordinary days of school and activity weren't so bad. I longed for that distinction between the joyous and sacred times and the mundane time. And this for me was marked by the twinkling lights inside and outside in the dark, the garland on stair rail, and the train with its smoky plastic smell buzzing around the floor. I would sit and look at the tree and get lost in the Christmas wonder. 

I still do, just...later. And I still want the distinction of these four weeks before Christmas to be present and joyful in our home. I want the kids to have that same feeling that something is different, something exciting is happening, something wonderful is here in our home and family, but also that something even better is coming. So this is what we came up with, John and me, to help our family prepare for the coming of the Christ child, and to make our domestic church travel along in the season and song of the Church season:


I enjoy taking the kids to a local farm store to pick out our Advent wreath. As soon as you get out of the car you can smell the Christmas trees on the other side of the lot. Happiness. I loved the look of this wreath, and so did my daughter, but I do miss that evergreen smell...I guess I'll have to get a scented candle!
Our Advent sacrifices are silver and gold glitter foam stars that we're placing each night in a treasure chest to fill up and give to Jesus on his birthday. K's sacrifice yesterday was being a "good listening girl!", and today was to try not to push her brother. Our sacrifices are positive sacrifices for the most part, especially for the children. Obviously the concept is a little out of their reach and abilities right now, as it's hard for an almost three year old to remember to try to not push her brother all day, let alone for fifteen minutes. But the thought is that we are striving to live as Christ would want us to, and in this time of preparation for the big day, we should be more cognizant and direct with our striving. Having a tangible representation of this in filling the treasure chest with stars helps us remember why we do it, and, for the children, what it leads to. That box will be overflowing by Christmas, and I know K will be so excited to give it symbolically to Jesus as a gift.
The creche, another family tradition and staple in our home growing up. Since it isn't Jesus's birthday yet, he's not there. But each night we add another figure so that as we get closer to Christmas the people and animals that surround him during that time start to gather in and around the stable. This is day one. That sheep looks hungry. I'll post another picture soon of as the crowd starts to gather. Only trouble is, I think we're going to run out of figures in a week. And K doesn't forget a thing.

So that's what we do. What things do you do as a family or individual to get ready for Christmas and celebrate Advent? I'm always looking for more ideas!

Sunday, November 27, 2011

The end of ordinary

Well, ordinary time has come to an end. The every day, ordinary, busy, endless weeks of nothing special are over. Today is the beginning of a new season and a new liturgical year. And I'm making resolutions.

First, I'm going to learn the new translations of the responses, prayers, and creed that are now being used in the Mass. We've been practicing at Mass for the past couple of months, but I still can't remember some of the bits. And then I'm going to finally work up the courage to ask our parish pastor why he doesn't say that last bit right before communion, the Communion Rite. It's one of the most powerful moments in the Mass,  and my favorite part as I was on my conversion journey. To get the chance to say to God, "I'm not worthy!" and to have the humility and faith to ask for transformation.

Thew new translation more closely mirrors the scripture passage it is drawn from:

"Lord I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, but only say the word and my soul shall be healed!"

It's that last reminder of the unworthiness of our poor souls to receive the sacrifice of Christ and the realization that though we are unworthy He freely made the sacrifice anyway. And that makes the magnitude of Christ's gift of self even greater. We are unworthy, we don't deserve, and yet He gives it anyway. Taking this part away robs us of part of the gift of Christ.

End of rant, continuation of story...

The second resolution I'm making is to not let the ordinary time become so ordinary anymore. After the quiet anticipation of Advent is over, and the joy and celebration of Christmas has ceased, I'm going to do my best, by the grace of God, to make every day the altar is dressed in green a day worthy of that color. Full of life-giving energy, the kind of pulsating energy that gets us through the day with love and joy,  not stagnant drudgery.

It's been tough lately with the kids' new outbursts of independence and temperament display, and the continuing saga of John's overworking working schedule. And I'm sure there will be more days that I feel I just need to get through and can't wait until they're over, especially as John ramps up the studies for his professional exam. But through it my prayer will continue to be that I and our home can be a place of refuge, filled with grace and love, for my husband and our kids. Not always clean, hardly ever quiet, but still peaceful.

For now, it's Advent! The kids and I are going to set up our advent home shrine this afternoon. I can't wait to see how it develops!

Saturday, September 3, 2011

Toddler Dinner Party/Stepping Back

Toddler dinner parties are fun. Just had a spur of the moment one with a good friend and her two children who are each a little younger than my two. It hysterical. There were actually hysterical toddlers loose in my house (two of them were mine). The kids were laughing and running around, taking each other's toys, but generally having a great time. Toward the end of our visit both of our oldest children were wild and crazy, running and screaming from excitement. We tried to keep some semblance of peace, as it was dinner time. But they were playing off of each other's excitement, and nothing short of separating the two oldest seemed like it was going to work.

It was everything I could do not to lose my cool in front of my friend when trying to guide my little lady's rambunctious behavior into something a little more...calm. The normal paths of guidance weren't having an effect at all. I even threatened to put her straight to bed, and then acted on that threat, to no avail. So, I thought, I would just let it be. They're two, and excited, and this is different and new having to share your every toy and even your high chair to a smaller child. Since I'm sitting in a big seat I can stand! I can get down easily and play! I don't have to eat! I can run and scream and climb on the chairs and...

OK, so I did lose control of my little lady this evening. And all those reasons may not be an excuse to just let her run wild. I did try. And it didn't work. So for just this occasion, with all these new and different experiences, it was OK. And I had a blast.

What was surprising to me in all this, was that I didn't actually get frustrated with her. I got a little peeved that she wasn't heeding my instruction, but I wasn't the red-in-the-face frustrated as is the usual run of things. And if you've been reading my blog at all before this post you'll know it's something I've been struggling with the past few months. And, as an aside, I'm wondering--is this patience thing something all moms deal with or is it my own personal cross to bear?

My mom always says, "Don't lose sight of her joy! Don't let her lose her joy!" And I think this speaks to another bit of parenting advice that I have received along the way. That is when you start to get bogged down in all the many things toddlers do that are frustrating, against the rules, down right mean or messy, to take a step back and admire all the amazing aspects of the child God has created and given to you. This works in three ways for me.

First, it helps me to take stock of who my child is. What are his or her strengths, gifts, talents? What makes her happy? What brings out the best in her? It helps me learn who she is. By learning more about her I can love her better and help her learn more appropriate ways to express herself.

Second, it helps me put her behavior into perspective. Because I know she squeals loudly enough for the neighbor across the street to hear when she is excited, I can look more organically at her behavior. She's not squealing to make me mad. She's squealing because she is excited! Doesn't make the behavior OK, but it does help me to form a plan of action, to set new limits and show her different and equally fun ways of showing excitement. Like clapping or jumping or waving her hands. This is freeing for me as well. I don't have to keep saying, "Stop squealing!", or the ever ineffective, "Stop squealing or you're going to time out." Time out is over, nobody is happy, and she's still squealing two minutes later.

Third, it actually makes me appreciate and love her for who she is and what she can do. I love that she gets so excited about things. I love that she feels so happy she just can't keep it in any longer and has to let us all know, in no uncertain terms, that she is, in fact, that excited.

Is the squealing socially acceptable behavior? Probably not. Am I going to let her keep doing it? I'm hoping one of these techniques I'm coming up with works. But after taking a step back and looking at the situation with all of its many variable instead of getting bogged down in the action of squealing, I can better understand my daughter and the influences on her behavior. Knowing this helped my come up with a plan for next time. And now I get to implement it!

*******

I'm realizing that I'm writing more about my parenting struggles these days, and less about parenting as a part of growing a domestic church. Looking at it organically, it's all part of the big picture, but I would like to share some different anecdotes of life in our home in the coming posts. We've been off the wagon of celebrating Church holidays since Easter, but I hope to bring these back starting with Thursday's birth of Mary with a birthday party for the Blessed Mother. That's the plan at least...


Monday, August 15, 2011

Peace

I've escaped for a few days to my mom and dad's house, or as my daughter likes to call it, "Abeea's house!". Papatoes, apparently, just lives here. He only owns "Papatoes truck!" Oh two year olds!

It was a restorative weekend. I had loads of time to be a little more quiet, a little more prayerful. Mainly in the here and there thoughts that drifted into intentions of gratitude and thanksgiving, requests and penitence which where then whispered and relinquished to our God who is all knowing...with the faith that He is merciful and all good. It was an everyday retreat. I gave up on worrying about the things I was worrying about.  And not just for the weekend, I gave that worry up. These little details of starting a "business" would take care of themselves, in time. In time, I'd figure it out. But for now, just peace. Peace in my family, joy in my family. 

My children are delightful. I don't think I'd be able to fully describe to anyone just how amazing they are. I don't mean that in a boastful way, but rather in an awe-filled way. It's in the small things. The inflection in my daughter's voice as she rambles through more complex sentences or coaxes her brother into some mischief with her. Or the way my son follows her lead and the two of them get up to something--thick as thieves. He gets these sparkly then squinty eyes when he's trying something different that cracks me up. Today he started babbling something at dinner that he obviously thought was hilarious. After each "sentence" he'd stop babbling and laugh at his incredible wit. The best was Sunday morning at Mass. I looked down right as Mass began to see K making the sign of the cross with her dolly's hands and J singing along to the music. That, my dears, was happiness.

So today we're here visiting Abeea and Papatoes. It's the feast of the Assumption of Mary. The day we Catholics (and others) celebrate the end of Mary's earthly life and the beginning of her life and reign in heaven. My mom came up with this lovely activity for the kids to do today in honor of Mary's feast day.

K's favorite color is purple, in case you couldn't tell.
Baby J gets in on it, too.

Peace!

Friday, August 12, 2011

Drudging through the desert

In a drought, so to speak. It's dry, I'm making my way through the days, but I don't know where I'm going right now. Feeling disoriented with all the desert around.

This is what happens, I suppose, when things get busy. Busy...that little word that is almost dirty to some. People are too busy these days, we overextend ourselves, we miss out on the little things hurrying through life...that's what they're saying. And perhaps we're not so much busy as I am distracted. I'm distracted by all the paperwork, drudging through the paperwork to get something so small I would scarcely call it a business set up. It has consumed me for the past two weeks. I knew I was sinking in it, I knew I should just give it a rest, but I couldn't.

Confused by all the metaphors? Yeah, me too.

The drudging I'm doing is what is keeping me busy. Though I'm busy and drudging, I'm still able to find the joys in everything. The children and I are having a blast doing fun outings and playing together. We're silly and laughing and living up summer. They're still asleep after a big morning at the crowded zoo.

The drought I wrote of has more to do with this zing of life that seems to be missing. I'm not connected to the life source. "He leads me beside still waters, He restores my soul." I need that. I need to be led, I need to let myself be led. I need those life giving waters, not this dry land around me. I need to feel my soul restored and alive! I don't want to feel busy and disoriented and dry. Even though I'm enjoying life and my family, I want a river with grass to enjoy it in, not just an oasis.

So I'm taking the next few days off from worrying about small business tax rules and getting a website up.  I'm going on personal retreat. I'm going into prayer mode--a mode so fraught with vulnerability  and the possibility of unwelcome revelation I've been avoiding it lately.  Hopefully I'll have something better to write about when I return.

Thursday, July 7, 2011

Vocational Mothering

After my last two posts a dear woman close to me, who is also source of motherly wisdom for me, reminded me of something very important. She wrote to me and reminded me that:

 "...We should do all we can to give our children the best childhood possible, but because that is our vocation and road to sanctity as mothers, not because our children are so fragile." --Rebecca Ramsay

I reflected on this for a while. And as it soaked in a burden of fear lifted off me. All this guilt I carry around because I lose my temper and my patience, because I don't do everything perfectly for my children all the time began to subside. The fear that I'm going to ruin my children because for one instant out of the entire day I'm with them I do something I wish I hadn't started to crack under the realization that the onus of control lies not on the outcome of my children's lives, but on mine. It is my job, my vocation, my call to strive for everyday sanctity. In so doing my mothering, my interactions with my children, will bear the fruit of the sacrifice and prayer. And then I remembered I needed to pray.


What was supposed to be a splash time turns into a full body experience.


This message also reminded me of that paradoxical point of view that children crave routine, but are at the same time resilient. I do my best to ensure that my children eat well, sleep well, and play well, but life is life. Things happen. Patience is lost, or the routine goes out the window, or sometimes we even skip a snack [gasp!]. My kids still smile, and laugh and find joy in things. They aren't scared of me (as witnessed by the lack of listening going on with my little lady currently), they still come to me for comfort and support and help. So I haven't ruined them. I long to explore their world with them, to laugh with them, and to find joy in the sillies and stranges with them. So that's what I'll work on today. Being present, making sacrifices joyfully, and striving for everyday sanctity.


Monday, June 27, 2011

Feet Don't Fail Me Now

My children are currently squealing at each other from their beds when they're supposed to be napping. But that's OK. They'll fall asleep eventually. Or not. And then we'll go to the spray park and have a blast, and they'll pass out a little early tonight at bedtime.

It's funny how much has changed in the past year. A year ago, I may have had a complete meltdown if one or both of the kids was off the routine. Sleeping especially was something I was super wound up about. Now, my baby is going to be one in a couple of weeks, my big girl is acting, well, bigger every day. And things don't seem as catastrophic if they're out of place. In fact, I'm finding that things can sometimes be easier if I let loose the reigns and shake things up. It's nice having distraction from the everyday with visitors and trips, play dates and spontaneous picnics or tea parties. It keeps things from feeling stagnant and insular. 

I think I relied so heavily on that routine when I had two under two, and had all the stress that came along with that. Now that J has his feet under him, literally--he's walking now, I feel as though I have mine under me as well. Things that I wouldn't have thought possible a few months ago, are now suddenly possible again. I feel a sense of freedom in a way, like I can finally calm down and enjoy watching my children play together. I can more calmly (most of the time) help them learn to share, not hit, take turns, make music, and run around together. J is learning to communicate a lot more, and can certainly understand a lot more. His signing has blossomed over the past few weeks. It is amazing watching his personality unfold with all his new found abilities. 

There are certainly still times that my patience runs thin. And I'm sure there will be difficult patches as J begins pushing limits once he realizes that they are there. For now I'm optimistic. Slowly, step by step, I'm regaining my balance.


Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Breaking the silence

It's been a long time since my last post. Thing's haven't been busy, per se, but it feels like there has just been no time to write. I could say it was just the lack of time, but that wouldn't be the whole truth. I simply haven't felt the motivation, inclination, or inspiration to share what has been the goings on around here. The last few weeks have been filled with very high highs in family life as well as some fairly low lows (in my personal opinion) in my career as a mother.

A while ago a mommy friend of mine mentioned something about how the first two to three years of a child's life lay the foundation for the way they will interact with the world for the rest of their life. They are incredibly formative years. Now, this is something I have heard before, and what's to stop the next two to three or thirty years from forming the child into a person, but it struck me in a different way this time. No longer was this idea theoretical, something to read about, study, ponder, nod knowingly in self-awareness of my self-education and think that at some point in the future that information would silently seep its way into my daily mothering--that this information in my head would make me a good or better mother. No, when I heard this tidbit it hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly my oldest is two and my youngest will be one in a couple of months. The clock is ticking. What kind of foundation am I laying as mother? Spiritually? Socially? Practically? Emotionally? I heard this and it was as if the teacher announced the exam was actually going to be today instead and I hadn't done enough studying.

The more I thought about it, the more frustrated I became. Until every little thing my child did or said became my fault. And every way I reacted to the children became a failure to do what was best, in my head, and in more cases than I wish to admit, in practice.

I'm not the kind of person who plans well. Oh I plan, just not well. I plan to plan. I love lists. But then I can't get down to the nitty gritty because, well, I don't make decisions easily. So once I find a system or schedule that works, I stick to it tooth and nail. Thing is, children aren't that consistent. And they aren't objects, they're people who have changing needs, changing wants, wants to be changed whether or not it wakes the other child up in the process.

This drive to stick to my lists, to try to get my things accomplished each and every day, had driven me to a low point. Feelings of failure, frustration, exasperation with the terrible twos, exhaustion from trying to pull double weight around the home, a little loneliness from the project keeping John away, and the subconscious stress of planning and packing for a couple of weeks away put me in time out this afternoon. I was at a bottom, rock or not, it was some form of a floor. I lost sight of the significant things, and could only see the floor. And how dirty it was. And how much I wanted to clean it, but couldn't.

Then my daughter came in and gave me a hug. And a kiss. And a gentle pat. And said, "Blessed Mother and baby Jesus are right there!" pointing to the picture on the wall of our bedroom. She went about playing with her brother, and I started to talk to Them about all this. And I think I started to let go a little.

I think a lot about letting go. I feel the whole water off a duck's back picture is flawed. I think in order to really let some things go, you have to internalize them first. Accept the thing you have to let go of, and then let go of it. And as I let out all my frustrations and spoke them out loud to the best mother the world has ever seen, and to her God-son, I think I really began to let go of some of these things. It became clear once again that my children are my work, my children and my family. My home is the place my family dwells, but it is material, secondary to the needs of my family. All the other things going on are secondary.

I felt I needed to start tomorrow making sure that my children were fed emotionally and spiritually, not just bodily. They are more important than keeping the house clean or checking off the lists I've arbitrarily made once they're in bed. Someone will probably not nap. Someone else will definitely have a runny nose and stuffy attitude. But that will be my work. The things I can't predict or plan or make lists and schedules about. They are my work. They are my joy.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Recalibration

I've been having a lot of realizations recently. Maybe its all the time I've been spending on my own after the children are asleep, but lately the lightbulb has proverbially been going on in some areas of my life that have made the daily grind a bit less abrasive.

Mostly the realization that my expectations greatly influence the outcome of any given day or situation have come off the page and become real to me in the past weeks. I keep recalling a study we looked at in my interpersonal relationships course at UT. The study, called the PAIR project, conducted by my professor, Ted Huston, followed newlyweds in a longitudinal study, and among other things, rated their satisfaction at various times throughout their marriage. One finding I remember from the study was that a person's satisfaction in their marriage corresponded more to their own expectations of what their marriage was going to be like than anything else about their relationship. That struck me then, as an engaged senior in college, with little else on the brain but getting married and having a great marriage. I gleaned from these courses some tidbits to help me be a good wife, and shared them with my fiance here and there as hints for being a good husband.

But this one tidbit has come to mind a lot these days. And has not only applied to my marriage, but also to my long days parenting. I get most frustrated when the things I want to happen in a day don't, and I get frustrated with the children because they are making these certain things not happen. I want to get down my to-do list and get on with it, and I expect them to sit together peacefully playing so that I can. But I realized that they just won't sit down peacefully and play together, and it is unfair to them to have that expectation. It's unfair because when my expectations are not met, they feel the brunt of it. Plus I put my needs over theirs, which very rarely ends in anything positive.

So it has been a process the last couple of weeks, finding balance in my expectations for the days. I can expect that the baby will take a nap at some point, and my toddler and I will have our special time for a little while. Once her attention "cup" is filled, she's ok with me doing my thing for bit. My thing being housework. Sometimes she even helps me out with the dusting. I can expect not to cross everything off my list, and that sometimes I just need to get down on the floor and have some fun.

And though, for me, it is a sacrifice not getting to everything I need to, I've found this amazing sense of freedom and balance and joy in it the past few weeks. A couple of days have thrown curve balls and it's taken a lot to recalibrate my expectations. But through prayer but not always with thanksgiving I make my requests known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding has guarded my heart and mind in Christ Jesus. I've been putting a lot of pink flowers on the owie crown lately. Pink for the joyful sacrifices.
One week til Holy Week

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

The least of these

I shouldn't drink coffee in the evening. I don't usually. Yesterday, though, I felt so tired I thought it wouldn't even make a difference. Half past midnight and I was still awake when baby boy woke for his first night feeding. I was still awake when John got home around one. At some point I did pass out, just to re-awaken at three for the second feeding. Then at six again when John startled me awake to kiss my goodbye for the day. Then at 7:30, when I finally heard the shrill, "I sleeping to-ever!" from next door.

I got up. I pulled on some non-pj pants, threw on a sweater, tied up my hair, looked at the picture of the Blessed Mother holding Jesus and took a deep breath. The verse from Matthew popped into my head--

"Whatever you did for one of the least of these...you did for me." Matthew 25:40

So I played that line over and over in my head today. And regarding the obviously disastrous day I wrote about yesterday, I'd say it was the food my soul needed to be sustained through today. I found joy in imagining that the difficulties my children had today were the difficulties Christ may have had as an infant. How would Mary have responded Jesus? How does Jesus now regard the way I'm responding to my children. Do my children feel loved, respected, cared for? It made me constantly think of the best way to love instead of constantly doing damage control.

And though the day was similar to yesterday in the naplessness, the clutter, the whining and deliberate head-bangs and hits, there was somehow joy in it all. Not to say I did it right all the time. But there was a definite difference. And the children seemed happy going to bed. Which they did very, very early tonight.

I pray I can find that spiritual sustenance tomorrow and always. I pray it becomes the norm. Having one child taught me some selflessness. Having two is teaching me more about what self-giving love really is.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Patience is a...

Lot of work.

It's been a while since I've been able to post. Or rather, it has been a while since I've been inspired to write anything. I spent last week lounging with the kiddos at my mom's house while John was working long hours on an upcoming deadline. I had had thoughts to write down, but I couldn't heave myself off the comfy leather couch planted squarely in front of a television (something our house does not have) with all it's flickering lights and captivating sounds.

We're home now. The kids are finally in bed. Today was another tough day. I've been praying for patience lately, because even on the best of days I tend to loose said virtue toward the end of the day. I just want things to move along. After dinner it's clean up, bath, books, prayer, bed. Nothing else. No dawdling, nothing. Why don't you get it little two-year-old? I have to remember I'm not a drill sergeant and she's not a recruit. But at the end of the day, when I'm on my own still with the two kids, and I just need to get to everything that's been piling up around me all day (or to that tv show on hulu I've been waiting all day for), it's hard to stay patient.

So, I've been praying for patience. The only way to learn it, though, is through experience. The experiences often get more and more trying the more patience you need. So far, it's always been with the toddler that I've needed to learn patience. Now the little guy is throwing his best. We all have colds, which doesn't help. It's raining, which I'm sure doesn't help. The little guy just won't sleep. He took no naps today. None. Nada. Eight month olds are supposed to nap twice, get 14 hours of sleep. My little guy, didn't fall asleep until two minutes after I started writing this. No, wait, he did fall asleep. As we were pulling into our driveway. For two minutes.

This may not seem all that stressful. But when you've got a baby whom you know is fed, who has no fever, who has had his nose cleaned, medicine administered, and diaper changed, but who still won't fall asleep, something happens to your sanity. And when in the midst of all this you're trying to care for a sick toddler, a messy house, and sick self, there's no chance. But like I said, I've been praying for patience. And I can say today could have gone worse, so hopefully I'm learning something.

It's easy to remember while the house is quiet and I'm typing all these thoughts out, that I just need to breathe, and pray, and remember all this is temporary. But in the thick of it, it's not so easy. Perhaps it's time to really set up interiorly the things that matter, to really engrain where the priorities in life lie. First of all, that the things of this world pass away. That my job is to love God and then love the people He's created. My family are those people. My kids are those people. And how much more should I love them since I helped to create them. So I'll keep praying for help, for patience. And I'll keep centering on what's important. To love.

Monday, March 28, 2011

Breaking Even

This morning was fantastic. John got up with the kids, made pancakes and coffee (a treat for a Monday), stayed with us all morning until we could take him to work on our way to a playdate. The playdate was fantastic. A great time catching up with a friend I haven't seen in a while and her two little ones K's and J's age. We stayed through lunch and came home for naptime. It was going so, so well.

Then naptime didn't happen. My packing and housework subsequently didn't happen. I still had a grocery run to make and a few other errands to do and it was coming close to 4:30. I knew it was not going to go well taking the kids to the store that late in the afternoon, but I knew it had to be done. Let's just say I was just about in tears by the time we got home.

Toddlers will be toddlers and babies will be babies, and that is just the way it is. But food still needs to be procured, and laundry still needs to be done, and somewhere in all of that there has to be a way to teach the toddler not to push the baby off whatever toy he's on just because she wants it right then. But I couldn't figure it out today.

What do I take away from a day like today when I'm just breaking even--on a day I know God granted I get somethings so right, and at other times I know my human nature got it so wrong? I have to get better at letting go, at placing the flower on the owie crown. I think what I can take away is that I can remember how great the morning was. And I can try again tomorrow.

Wednesday, March 23, 2011

In the beauty of holiness...

Let me begin this post giving due credit and praise to the artist behind the painting that adorns this blog and our wall at home. The icon of the Visitation was painted by Jim Janknegt, a dear friend of our family's, and commissioned along with the icons of the Sacred Heart and Immaculate Heart for our wedding. Each day I am inspired by the message that Jim brilliantly articulated when painting these images, and each day I am awed by their beauty and presence in my home.  See more of Jim's amazing work at Brilliant Corners Artfarm.

Which brings me to something I've been stewing on for a few weeks now. I have been attending a scripture based mother's group in the area since the fall. It has been an enriching part of my life for the past few months, and I was sad today when we had our final session until the fall. But a few weeks ago the topic for that particular session was about forming a "Deuteronomy 6 lifestyle" and a "Christian" home. The speakers point was that our entire lives should radiate the love of God. She was focused on how this applies to our interpersonal familial relationships. We are to "drill into" our children the Lord's goodness to us and what He asks of us in return.

I don't know, maybe it's the visual learner in me, or the Catholic who is drawn to the richness of the beauty of the Church, not to mention the physical presence in the Eucharist, but I believe that a "Christian" home is made up of a lot more than just the words, emotions and interactions of the interpersonal relationships. I was struck by how she did not once mention anything about the actual home. I think the way we approach our physical beings and possessions, our surroundings and appearance teaches a lot about God's love for us as persons and how we should reflect that love to others.

What?! Slow down. Am I implying that a tidy home filled with pretty things and well-kept people but that is devoid of all affection, communication, and deep relationship is the way to bring up a family. Surely you know I do not. But I do believe that having a home decorated at least a little with things of beauty, like artwork, music, flowers, or simply dusted shelves (which I can never seem to get done!), is enriching to any one's soul and can be a launching pad for educational moments.

I think back to Valentines Day when my husband picked out a special little Gerber daisy for our daughter. She paraded down the busy town street with that flower and thought it was the greatest thing ever. She helped us put it in a vase on the homeshrine. For the next week every time she saw that flower she said, "Tata gave K a flower!" with a great big grin on her face. That was a moment where something beautiful, yet so simple, taught the little girl about a father's love, and hopefully laid the foundation for her further learning of the Father's love.

I do know that without love, all of that is mute. So we keep loving, and hope they're learning to love, too. And as for the beauty, we expose them to it where we can. And I am so grateful we have such a beautiful piece to share with our family, and with you!

Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Every Sacrifice

So I had "Heavenwards, Always", by Kathy Kanewske, playing in the background today as we were getting ready for nap time. My daughter and I were reading one of her stories, when she suddenly started whispering something rhythmically under her breath. I paused to listen.

"Every sacrifice and trial we face fills our treasury with your good grace."

Joy moment!

I tried singing along with her. She said, very emphatically, "No mommy can sing," and went right back on singing along. I just sat and listened to her for a few moments, completely in awe of how much she soaks in, and how much of what soaks in she is able to make her own.

And that one line, repeating over and over, brought back to my mind what has been floating around since Lent began, about sacrifice and how to teach love and service to our little ones. Even though she is not understanding every aspect of everything we say or do, I know these moments are somehow being etched into her person. She is being formed by what she sees and hears and participates in.

But developmentally things are tricky. We're smack dab in the middle of the "mine" stage and the "no" stage. Though these days those two words aren't heard as much, the stage shows in her actions. The baby brother, who is cruising now, often has his hands picked up and pushed off of whatever furniture he adheres himself to, resulting in the dampened thud of cloth diapered bum hitting wood floor. Or there is the "no J can touch this" accompanied by a swift shove, push, head butt, or really any effective form of two-year-old force. I'm realizing more and more that how I respond in these situations will also in some ways form who she becomes, and who the baby becomes. And I can tell you that however I react doesn't seem to be having the desired effect for anyone.

There is only so much separating one can do. Only so much distraction, so much reasoning. The time-outs are rule of law now, and the situation is escalating. It is such a struggle coming up with good solutions, communicating them effectively, and remaining consistent in the limits and consequences. And this seems like such a common parenting concern!

Phew! Parenting is tiring. But in a good way. Because one minute you're about to lose your cool (or do!), and the next their singing to you, or playing [gnawing on] ball with each other, or actually "good nice sharing." And every sacrifice and trial we face fills the treasury of grace.

Saturday, March 19, 2011

Feast Week

While our Lenten sacrifices usually take precedence over more celebratory days, two days this past week deserved a little more festivity than the rest.

Thursday was the Memorial of St. Patrick of Ireland. We celebrated in true Irish form...or as close as I, an American, could muster. I cured my own pork for a bacon boil with cabbage, and made a delicious brown bread and champ on the side. We started with a toast  of Irish Mist to St. Patrick and to Ireland, and finished with maybe a not so traditional dessert--shortbread shamrocks dipped in milk chocolate.


We got to the end of the evening, after the kids were in bed, and I realized I had done all these things to bring Ireland into our home, but had completely forgotten to come up with some prayers to commemorate the day! Dropped ball. I turned it somewhat secular even without the green beer and leprechauns! Next year. One step at a time!

And you may be wondering how I could have pulled all this off with two under two. I had lots of help. My dear sister-in-law was here and lent both hands, helping with the kids and with the preparations. Thanks Ciocia!

The other feast is today. It is the Solemnity of St. Joseph, husband of Mary. We're celebrating today in a scaled down version of the Sicilian-American celebration of New Orleans. Breads, cookies, wine, pasta, stuffed artichokes. It is going to be fun! 

I've set up an altar similar to those built in parishes and homes all around New Orleans. Normally they are extravagant altars, many tiers in height, with statues, icons, breads and cookies in shapes symbolizing St. Joseph and the Holy Family. Here is our attempt:


We have breads in the shape of a staff, cross, and monstrance. We have cookies and flowers, statues and vino, all to celebrate St. Joseph and his intercession for us.

Why such celebration? Well, the story goes that in the middle ages Sicily went through a tragic famine. The people prayed to St. Joseph, and the famine ceased. In thanksgiving they built these altars with food from the harvest. St. Joseph became the patron saint of Sicily. Emigrants brought these traditions with them to New Orleans, and though I am not aware of any kind of Italian or Mediterranean blood in my veins, as the daughter of a New Orleanian, I feel it is my duty to pass on this aspect of my culture and heritage. Our kids are going to be very confused by all these cultural traditions. That or very proud of their heritage.

And if I have confused my history, please comment with the correct one! 

I just wanted to share our celebrations with you! Pray a little prayer to St. Joseph today, for all the Josephs and fathers in your life!

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Spring has sprung!

A blessed St. Patrick's day to you all! We're celebrating in true form here with bacon and cabbage, soda bread and champ. I'll post pictures of our celebration tomorrow.

It is a gorgeous day here in New England. It's the first day the temperatures and barely kissed the 60's, the sun is out and there is just a hint of a cool breeze. As my kids napped, I sat in the backyard soaking in the sun and some caffeine chatting with my mom. Then I noticed the flowers.


Cue rushing sound of release. Release of the cloud that has been hovering over my head the last few days, release of the tension and disappointment that comes with long days followed by long nights. Release of the feelings of weariness from a long long winter. Spring! 

I've been having more "up" days since little ones started napping again. (Hence the blog). But the "down" ones still rear their ugly heads every now and then. I have trouble staying calm and patient with my little ones. I know I ought to let go of it, and give it to God, but the selfish part of me wants to hang onto these feelings of frustration in order to have something to control. 

Yesterday at the mother's group I attend the topic of the day was prayer, or as the study called it: "plugging into the power source". The speaker said something that resonated with me, that sometimes the prayers of a mother, especially one of very young children, are nothing more than, "HELP!". God hears that as a prayer. So yesterday and today as my patience dwindled walking down the sidewalk, getting into the car, and going down for naps my prayers were: "Help!", "HELP!", and "help."

And then I saw the flowers. It was the answer to my prayers.

Monday, March 14, 2011

"Animated with love"

Last night at night prayer we introduced our two-year-old to the crown of thorns. Two-year-olds amaze me. Two years ago our daughter was only six days old, and now, now she's worried about Jesus. John showed our daughter the paper crown of thorns and explained to her about the "owie crown" and told her that it scratched Jesus head. Then he took our crucifix off the wall to show her that Jesus was wearing the owie crown on the cross. He then showed her the heart stickers we had on hand to use until we procured the flowers. The little lady got a very concerned look on her face and said, "Put happy sticker on Jesus head." We tried to get her to put it on the paper crown, but she was determined. Jesus had an owie on his head, and she was going to make it better with a happy sticker (our term for band aid). John tenderly placed the heart sticker on the cross. This still wasn't enough for my empathetic little girl.

The cross on our wall is a unity cross. It depicts Mary at the foot of Jesus collecting blood from his spear-pierce side into a chalice. Little one apparently thought that Mary was hurt, too. I tried to explain to her that only Jesus had the owie crown on. Silly me, so task oriented these days. John says, "Well, Mary's heart hurts because her son's head hurts. So let's put this sticker on her heart."
Unity cross

Who is to know if this is what she understood when she asked to put the sticker on Mary. Or if she thought that the whole cross had an owie. But how profound the thought was. Made even more profound to me that I was reminded of it in a simple exercise by a two-year-old. As a mother I can now understand a little bit what Mary must have been going through that day.  Even more so because I want to believe that my daughter did think that Mary's heart hurt, too. And that made me glad.

Later I was reading from Pope John Paul II's Familiaris Consortio (pick it up and work through it if you haven't already) on education. Specifically the section on "The Right and Duty of Parents Regarding Education" stood out to me. John Paul II quotes from the Second Vatican Council that

"[S]ince parents have conferred life on their children, they have a most solemn obligation to educate their offspring. Hence, parents must be acknowledged as the first and foremost educators of their children. Their role as educators is so decisive that scarcely anything can compensate for their failure in it. [ouch!] For it devolves on parents to create a family atmosphere so animated with love and reverence for God and others that a well-rounded personal and social development will be fostered among the children."--Declaration on Christian Education, Gravissimum Educationis, n. 3.
First of all, dem's fightin' words..."scarcely anything can compensate for their failure in it"! Wow. It is up to us as parents to teach our children. But the amazing thing about this quotation and it's message is that even though the task is so "solemn", so daunting, it is at the same time so, well, fun! We have to create an atmosphere that is alive with love. Not staunch and hard, but alive!

So I'm hoping that our little exercise is alive, and that it exemplifies joy and life for our children. And I do hope that even if she doesn't get it now, she gets it later. Mary loved her son so much her heart was pierced also.

leap 4 joy

Sunday, March 13, 2011

Owie Crown

View of our Lenten homeshrine in progress.
"Then they put an owie crown on his head and it scratched his head..."

So the other day at breakfast John and I were discussing what we should "do" for Lent as a family. During Advent we decided to do a treasury of grace exercise. For those of you out there who may be reading this with no idea what that is, here is a little background. I was first introduced to the idea by a dear Schoenstatt sister they day I met her. I was protestant at the time and was having a terrible day. Casting lists had just gone up for my last year in the Nutcracker and I didn't get the part. I was devastated. This sister described this comforting idea of placing our disappointments, failures, joys and victories into the "treasury of grace", in essence offering them up to Mary so that they would be transformed into graces. We offer them as prayers to Jesus through Mary, and as prayers they become treasures. I spent the next few hours thinking about this spiritual offering and wondering if there was a physical representation of it somewhere on that land. Ha! Little did I know how full the Catholic faith was of physical representations! I thought that somewhere there must have a been a treasure chest full of sacrifices. What would those sacrifices look like?

So for Advent this past year, which is the "kinder, gentler Lent" (so says this sister), we placed a small treasure chest shaped box on our homeshrine with a pile of gold and silver glitter foam stars in a bowl next to it. Every night for night prayer my husband, 2-year-old daughter, and myself would each take a star and at the end of our usual prayers tell the Blessed Mother what we offered for her son and place the star in the box. I had every intention of creating a larger star out of the smaller ones to place on our tree or over the creche, but as my life goes, that didn't end up happening. Next year.

So this beautiful, kind, gentle treasury of grace exercise was perfect for a two year old, perfect for the beautiful season of Advent leading to the joys of Christmas. But what about Lent? What images of the extremely sacrificial nature Lent could we use in our family devotion?

I saw an example of one involving a crown of thorns. I love the idea. Each sacrifice is a paper flower placed on a thorn of the crown, portraying how Jesus's sacrifices blossom into graces for our salvation. While I would normally encourage even a toddler to be exposed to and use the real materials for nearly any activity, this particular example could be dangerous. Especially since she's at just the right height to reach up and pull down the crown of thorns onto her baby brother's head. So as we're sitting around the breakfast table trying to come up with ideas the discussion of the physical dangers of having a crown of thorns in the house turns into a discussion of the Way of the Cross for toddlers. Just how would you describe this to a two year old? Our version went something like this:

"They told Jesus he was going to die and put an owie crown on his head that scratched him, then they made him walk with his cross, then he fell down and saw his mom, Mary, then he got back up and Simon helped him, then he fell down again..."

Just didn't seem...um...how do you present such an important yet graphic aspect of our faith to innocent little lambs? Question for another time.

Our discussion turned back to the sacrifices for our night prayer and we finally settled on the image of the crown of thorns with flowers. For now we'll start educating our little ones with the images and practice of the exercise of sacrifice without the dangers of sharp thorns poking around the homeshrine. My talented husband made this version of a crown of thorns on Illustrator. We'll make purple flowers out of paper and paste them on the thorns with a glue stick.

John's work of art


The toddler's sacrifices will probably include using her words, saying please, and sharing with her baby brother. And for a two year old those are pretty tough.

leap for joy

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Here we go...

So I'm a mother of two young children, babies really. I'm a stay at home mom who wishes she liked the sound of "home manager" better than "homemaker", but just feels the title tries to put a pretension incongruous with the duty of a Catholic mom. I make a home. I cultivate a family, our persons, our physical dwelling and, hopefully, our spiritual growth through my life and work.

Why "The Second Joyful Mystery"? My husband and I were married on the feast of The Visitation, the day we celebrate and remember Mary's journey and meeting with her cousin Elizabeth. Both women pregnant, both in unusual circumstances to say the least, and both leaning with the greatest of faith into the grace and will of the Father, thus playing two of the most important roles in the continuously unfolding drama of salvific history.  Specifically, though, this event drew huge importance and meaning to us as we prepared for our marriage and began to grow our family. The themes of hospitality, life, family, joy, childlike faith, and joyful servanthood so pervasive in the images and story of the Visitation were ideals we wanted to see alive and fruitful in our lives and the lives of our children.

So as our young "domestic church" continues to grow and mature, I wanted to share some of the successes, joys, anecdotes, ideas, thoughts, failures, struggles and questions that make their way into this life and will hopefully carry us to the next.  I don't claim to be an expert on the Church, faith, theology, psychology or any such thing. So take me with a grain of salt. Ask me questions. Hopefully this blog with be thoughtful and thought-provoking. And hopefully I bring some of Jesus with me to you, the reader, and hopefully something in you leaps for joy when you see Him.

leap for joy

rebekah