The Best Stuff

I interrupt this regularly scheduled void to make an important announcement:

One of my dearest friends of the heart received the most amazing blessing this weekend. You probably already know but go back over there anyway and gush over that beautiful baby a little more. Isn't he gorgeous? Just like his mama.

We've all been waiting and praying for you for a very long time, little guy. Welcome Home!

She Could Have Danced All Night

On Friday night, for the first time in a long time, I wished that I were back in high school.

My beautiful Elena attended her first dance ever, and I had the privilege of accompanying her as a chaperone. We both had a ball. :) She, because she was able to get all dressed up and spend the evening dancing and laughing with her friends, and I, because I was able to watch her get all dressed up and spend the evening dancing and laughing with her friends, in exactly the way it should be done.

I told Elena's teacher, the founder of Dominion Academy, that it was this dance that sold me on her school last spring. When I heard about the way they run their annual Senior Honors Ball, I knew that it was a place I would feel comfortable sending my daughter to classes. Since last fall, she has been taking English and history there three mornings a week, and we have quickly grown to love the family-like community at this small classical Christian school.

Only seniors are allowed to bring a date to the Ball, and this encourages the underclassmen to come in groups of friends instead, relieving much pressure and making the event a whole lot more fun. Elena and one of her best friends, Rosa, spent the day getting ready together at our house. After an entire afternoon with the curling iron, hairspray, and make-up, we still ended up leaving an hour late. In the car, one of them remarked, "Imagine if our dates had been waiting at the door!" and I just had to respond, "See? One more reason not to date during high school." The eyes rolled, but I know deep down they agree. They just don't know it yet. :)

The Ball was an elegant affair, held at the officer's club of the local Air Force base. When we arrived, the girls found dance cards at their assigned seats for the formal dinner. The school uses a computer program to randomly match couples for most of the dances. The gentlemen don't have to worry about whom to ask, and every young lady gets to dance. As each song begins, the young men approach their seated partners and escort them to the dance floor. When the song ends, they escort them back to their seats and thank them. It is all accomplished with such grace and decorum, beautiful to observe.

To prepare for this special night, most of the students take a ballroom dance class offered by the school. Throughout the evening, they waltz, they swing, they cha cha, they foxtrot, they mambo, and they merengue. And they have fun! So much fun. What a far cry from the dances I attended in high school and college. Many of the chaperones brought their spouses and joined in the dancing. I hope to drag Jim along next year, but we will definitely have to take the class first. Maybe a really good instructor can teach old dogs new tricks.

In between some of the formal dances listed on their cards, there are a few open numbers with more modern dancing. During these, the kids flood the floor in groups of guys and girls. I probably don't need to tell you that they enjoy these as much as the formal ones.

They danced the Electric Slide, the Cha Cha Slide (pictured below...how low can you go?), and, of course, the infamous YMCA song, which seems to be a mandatory, timeless crowd pleaser for no explainable reason.

I am so very proud of the young woman my Elena has become, beautiful both inside and out, and I am extremely grateful for the virtuous friends and the wholesome, holy opportunities God has given her. Wouldn't the world be far better if all kids could have this? We are so very blessed.

It Wasn't All Bad

Since I wrote a bit about how difficult Mother's Day was on the inside, I think it's only fair to show you how wonderful it was on the outside. I awoke to find this beautiful display in my kitchen, having been only slightly tipped off by Mei Mei's incessant questioning, "Have you been downstairs yet?"

Here's a close-up of that thoughtful bouquet of Sprees. My sweetheart knows me well. While I always appreciate chocolate, I LOVE Sprees. Odd, I know. Unfortunately, this photo was taken after Elena, Valya, and Jacinta had already been consumed. In my defense, I did share, and at 12 shared Sprees a pop (2X6), the rolls don't last long.

My favorite wildflowers! Aren't they beautiful? After Mass, I asked Jim to take a picture of me with my babies, the ones who give me the honor of being a mom. Yes, Valya is really that tall, and no, Elena is not. :) I have no idea what Mariana thought was so funny, but obviously Charlie and Jacinta did not agree. Elena says they remind her of the couple in American Gothic, minus the pitchfork, of course.

In the middle of the day, I gave myself a gift. I snuck out to a local sewing shop that is going out of business. Gorgeous, gorgeous fabrics, all 30% off. After over an hour of agonizing decision making, I walked out with 30 different patterns, mostly quarters. I bought some I plan to use for Maggie's quilt block; some I hope will work for Chere Mere's square; some yellows, pinks, and greens I want to use to make a quilted runner for my little girls' dresser; a couple of cute Western prints I intend to include in a cowboy quilt for Charlie eventually (sooner rather than later if he has his way...why did I ever tell him my plans for them?); a few florals to make sweet birthday surprises for my quilting gang; and some simply because I thought they were pretty. I even bought a yard and a half of that black and red batik butterfly to sew a skirt for myself this summer. Or some summer. Yes, I am a sucker and a dreamer when it comes to fabric. And an economic peril in a sewing shop that is going out of business.

All in all, an awesome day. Thank you, Jim, Elena, Valya, Nastia, Mariana, Jacinta, and Charlie. You rock my world and make my life so very precious. I am blessed beyond measure.

Put Every Day to Good Use for Eternity...and the Time to Begin That Is Now

The Catholic faith is not simply a collection of doctrines and ideas, or a body of knowledge, or even a system of beliefs, although all those things are important. At its root, Christianity is an experience: a life-changing, personal experience of the risen Jesus Christ. Everything else in the writings of St. Paul, and everything else in our life as Catholics, flows from that personal encounter with Jesus Christ. If we truly seek him, then we will always find him. But when we find him, we need to be ready for the consequences, because nothing about our lives can be the same. (emphasis mine)

Read the rest of this challenging message from Archbishop Chaput here...

Wildflowers

I chronicled the story of my motherhood in just fifteen minutes last night.

Funny. It sure seemed a whole lot longer as I was living it.

A few months ago my dear husband volunteered for us to share our story with an adoption class at a local hospital. Somehow I ended up the one standing there alone in front of thirty-some prospective parents. I hadn't prepared anything, planning instead to share from the heart. I do know the story quite well, after all. The coordinator left me a thirty minute slot, and I was worried about running over. Fifteen minutes later, I had run out. Of words. And intelligible thoughts. And unintelligible thoughts.

Well, what can I say? I'm a writer, not a talker. Obviously I should have prepared something more than to rely on my heart. Live and learn. At least, I didn't keep them sitting there forever, blabbing on and on, right? Short and sweet and to the point.

I hope I had a point.

Anyway, I know Someone had a point last night. Someone knew that the last few days would be really pretty rotten for me. Someone knew that I would need to reflect and remember and recognize my life for what it is. To witness the blessedness of it all and wonder in awe at the gorgeous tapestry He is creating, in spite of my crooked ways. Even for just fifteen minutes.

Mother's Day is a tough one for me. And not because my husband doesn't do his darnedest to make it special. He does. I'm telling you, you will never go wrong marrying a man whose language of love is service. You may feel woefully inadequate at times, but you will always be pampered. And not just on Mother's Day.

I thought about writing a post about why this day is not my favorite, and then I remembered that I wrote it last year. The feelings and struggles are still there, much the same. That little girl of mine is on a path toward healing and ever so much better than she was a year ago, thanks be to God. But Mother's Day hits her hard too. It's virtually impossible not to get mad about a day that tells you to celebrate one mother half a world away who neglected and abandoned you and another mother here who still feels foreign after almost seven years. The heartache spews out like venom. I can't say that I blame her. Not at all.

So, God gave me this tremendous, uncomfortable opportunity to stand before a room of strangers and tell them of the wonders of His love. Because He knew how much I needed to hear it. To be reminded that this is a journey, my journey, and no matter how badly I may wander and feel lost and alone, He is there, guiding me, sometimes gently by the hand, sometimes yanking my arm almost out of the socket, making sure I stay on that path, strewing wildflowers in my way and hoping I notice them before they are trampled underfoot.

May I see the beauty and smell the sweetness of those wildflowers, every single one.

Penny Wise, Pound Heavier

If the Easter candy is marked 75% off,

but you spend $20 on chocolate eggs and bunnies a week after the baskets have been put away,

is it still such a good deal?


Wait a minute...we're Catholic! We've still got five more weeks of Easter left! Hallelujah!


(Maybe I'd better go back and get a few more bags...)

Be Still, My Heart

I admit it. I am completely infatuated with Sir Piers Rudde, a noble Englishman of the thirteenth century, a virtuous knight who pledged his life and his heart to Countess Theodora of Aquino, the vivacious, unattainable sister of St Thomas Aquinas.

Interestingly, I discovered why I am so smitten as I serendipitously/providentially listened to EWTN Live this evening while I was cleaning, two things I rarely do. In describing his understanding of marital relationships, Dr. Philip Mango told Fr. Mitch that every woman longs for her husband to be a knight, to be a strong and valiant man who will protect her from all danger.

So, that explains it. But that's not what this post is about.

My daughter Elena has been begging me to read The Quiet Light: A Novel about St Thomas Aquinas by Louis de Wohl ever since she finished it last spring. It's taken me this long to acquiesce. I am so grateful that I finally did. I love this book. Not only is it the only place I could ever encounter Sir Piers (making my heart go pitty-pat), but its rich, beautiful writing weaves a moving story set in a fascinating period of Church history. St Thomas is the humble, gentle giant of a saint who emerges out of this story.

But that's not what this post is about either.

Today, I was unusually struck by a particular passage, a dialogue between Sir Piers and Mother Maria of Gethsemani, the oldest sister of St Thomas. I read it a few times over, and I thought of it later when I read this post by my dear friend, a sister pilgrim who struggles against many of the same demons I battle.

"My brother Thomas taught me to be content only with the supreme Good. With nothing less than that."

"Mother Maria," said Piers with a twinkle,"where is your humility, pray?"

"Just that is humility," said the nun simply.

He shook his head. "I don't understand."

"Think then...what does it mean to be content only with the supreme Good? In other words, to want God, God Himself, nothing less? It means that you must recognize first that you are in need, in a great and dire and terrible need of Him, so much so that nothing else matters. Then that in this need of yours you cannot help yourself at all...that you need the help of Another, of God. Then, that you have no claim on such help...none, none whatever. And worse still, that you are unworthy of that help. Domine, non sum dignus. And thus, you empty yourself until nothing is left, no desire, no wish, no hope, except for Him alone. You die to the world; there is nothing left in you but that which awaits Him; you are a vessel to be filled but with Him. Our Lord himself...as Man...emptied Himself in such a way, obedient...even He...unto death. His was the supreme humility, and Him we must imitate. But there can be no true humility unless you aspire to the supreme Good." [emphasis mine]

Later she tells Sir Piers,

"You are a most honorable man, Sir Piers, and God must love you very dearly. Most likely your life is itself the answer to your question of how a layman could follow the way I was talking about. What humility demands is the renunciation of the self and also a readiness to serve. And surely you are fulfilling both demands."

I'm not sure I can put into words exactly how this passage relates to the struggles of my friend Margaret or myself, except to say that surely we are striving to fulfill both demands. We can have the best plans and ideas in the world, and then we can beat ourselves up for not achieving them, but if they are not His plans, then what does it matter? He is present and calling us to Himself in our weakness, in our sadness, in our selfishness, and in our pain. He is holding us, molding us, shouldering us in our darkest moments. If only we could remember to turn our face to His.

To reiterate Mother Maria's words above, we must empty ourselves until nothing is left, no desire, no wish, no hope, except for Him alone. We must die to the world, until there is nothing left in us but that which awaits Him; we are vessels to be filled but with Him.

I'm praying for you.