Christmas Merry-Making Mishaps Series #5 Giving Gifts

One of the most hilarious gifts I’ve ever received (that wasn’t meant to be a joke) appeared neatly wrapped underneath the tree.  After hearing me remark how cute a matching magenta sweatshirt and sweatpants with Tweety on them looked on my youngest sister (who at the time was 6), my dad purchased one for me.  

I have no idea why he took my compliment to mean that at the sensitive age of 17 I would also be interested in sporting such attire.  I'm certainly no fashionista, but I'm fairly certain I stopped wearing cartoon-clad gear outside of the house by middle school.  

A friend and I couldn’t resist trying this cute-for-a-first-grader-but-not-for-a-teenager gift that got exchanged at the store faster than a certain wittle tiny bird could say “I tawt I taw a putty tat.”

I've tried to locate the photos with the intention of posting one while covering up said friend's face to save her from any embarrassment, but I can't find them in with the other Christmas pictures I took with my camera that particular year.  

Don't worry, yours isn't the only family who didn't have anything close to a Hallmark holiday Christmas Merry-Making Mishaps Series #1 Caroling, #2 Decorating Cookies,  #3 Trees,  #4 Nativity Set holiday.

O the Gift of Just One Life

Why We Aren't Quite Merrily Rejoicing This Third Week of Advent

I took this photo the year my good friend since
high school, who is a practicing Jew, wanted to get
photos of Christmas lights in Richmond.
We had a blast taking pics and identifying
the songs she knew a fraction of the lyrics for!

Lord, I need You to help us out.  The Scripture readings for Mass for the third Sunday of Advent are all about how we are to rejoice and be glad in all circumstances.  My husband and I are both struggling a lot with that right now.

I’ve been sick with an energy-zapping, congestion producing, sinus-filling, sore-throat-inducing upper respiratory virus, infection, plague, whatever for over a month now.  Each time I think I’m finally starting to get better, my body lets me know in no uncertain terms is the battle o’er.  Coughing fits in the middle of the night and trouble sleeping are my newest addition of symptoms. I’ve missed Sunday Mass, our Spiritual Direction class, the work Holiday Party, and several opportunities to spend time with friends and family. 

Kevin works in the sixth ring of retail hell (aka the Short Pump area) and has since last year at this crazy busy time.  Most days he comes home feeling very sore and/or barely able to move after walking 10+ miles around the store and moving heavy appliances such as TVs, refrigerators, and such off the truck, around the warehouse, and onto the sales floor.  On top of that, last week he began taking three courses a week for his drafting and design degree.  This means he’s in class three nights instead of only two, has homework for three courses, and this will be the case throughout the rest of the time it takes him to complete his 21-month program. 

My Godfather Richard Vivacqua (nicknamed Stitch by my dad) passed away on Tuesday, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception and the beginning of the Year of Mercy.  The card I’d started writing to him is sitting unfinished on our coffee table reminding me of opportunities gone by.  He was my dad’s best friend since college, so his sickness and death have brought back memories of being there when my father was in hospice care and passed away.  They live in Buffalo, so my mom was the only one able to make it up there for the funeral Monday, December 14.   

Three of my Christ Renews His Parish Sisters have had surgery scheduled for December.  Friends of ours infant grandson has had a major surgery as well.  So far, all the reports have been good, but I’ve been feeling guilty for not being better about sending them cards, calling, and such.  I have kept all of them in prayer, though, as promised.   

Another good friend’s father is now in hospice care.  This has been quite a shock to our friend and his family.  I wish Kevin and I were able to be more present for them right now.

I was hoping to sell my Prints of Grace photo art cards at the Celebrate Virginia store at Regency Square Mall, but I haven’t heard back from the woman in charge of the displays who told me to give her a call and figure out a time I could meet with her.  (Incidentally, if you want to place an order or see a selection of cards available, please call, text, or e-mail me.) 

I’ve still got photo cards, framed pictures, gift bags, and stuff sitting out from the craft show I did in the beginning of November.  If I have the energy, I might organize those things and put them away so we can pull out our Christmas decorations.    

A dishwasher hasn’t magically appeared in our kitchen, 
so the dishes are stacked

on the counter with care

in hopes that someone

who’s not-quite-so-exhausted

will soon be there

perhaps a perky person

with some energy to spare.  

The closest washer and dryer is four floors down in the basement and requires several quarters.  The elevator only works a fraction of the time, so I do whatever I possibly can to avoid getting stuck in it.  Basically, I never ever get in the thing.  This means I schlep all of our laundry, groceries, and such up and down three or four flights of stairs. 

I know things could be far worse and certainly have been in the past.  I know we have a lot for whom and for which to be grateful, but the rejoicing part is a bit of a stretch at present. 

I had to laugh when Kevin suggested that maybe we should volunteer.  I reminded him that over the past couple months we’ve been hard-pressed to get the normal household chores and errands done, much less be well enough we can both make it to Mass on Saturday or Sunday, so adding anything else at this point would be rather ridiculous.    

I’m sure it hasn’t helped that our movie choices for this week have included two from The Hunger Games series.  Hardly cheerful holiday flicks.  

My Prayer for Returning to a Spirit of Rejoicing: Lord, there are so many who are struggling in body, mind, and spirit right now.  Please help us be tender and compassionate with them and ourselves as we face some tough challenges.  Keep us mindful that everyone we meet has some burden they are caring that we can't see and may never know is there in the same way that many people don't know even half of what we're going through.  Open our eyes to the joy that exists in and around us. Amen.   

One Winter Concert, Twelve Pertinent Props, and Six Suave Sombreros (None of Which Were in a Pear Tree With or Without a Partridge)

By the time I was to lead our last practice (out of a whopping three) for the Winter Concert at work, I had almost completely lost my voice.  

I’ve been sick with an energy-zapping, congestion-producing, sinus-filling, sore-throat-inducing upper respiratory virus, infection, plague, whatever for over a month now.  

Each time I think I’m finally starting to get better, my body lets me know in no uncertain terms is the battle o’er.  Coughing fits in the middle of the night and trouble sleeping are my newest addition of symptoms.

Fortunately, a co-worker had made posters of each of “The 12 Days of Christmas,” so the kids could hold them up when we got to their number.  We made do with me acting out many of the days while the kids held up posters facing out so parents would feel encouraged to join in.   

We sang “The 12 Days of Christmas” acapella.  Considering, we’d never all been together for a single practice, including the mini-rehearsal in the basement of the church right before the show, it went well.  Unless someone got it on video, most people probably couldn’t pick out the person who skipped every practice then was asked to hand-out programs, thereby missing every opportunity to practice the song lyrics and see the props.  Without the posters as guides and audience participation to cover up that fact, it could have easily been a train wreck, albeit an endearing one. 

The other song chosen for us to sing was “Feliz Navidad.”  For this one, we sang along to the music and had a dance party of sorts.  A co-worker brought in several sombreros she had at home.  The reasons why she had multiple sombreros at her residence were never clearly explained.  (I may look into that mystery further next week.)  I located the additional hats purchased earlier that day, but unfortunately, I could not find the original ones supplied for us. When it was time to load the bus and go over to the church for the concert, I'd looked high and low but never located the missing Mexican hats. 

A co-worker tells me she thinks someone who was upset they had to stay and close down the building, thereby missing the Winter Concert, had hidden them in passive-aggressive retaliation.  I’m not sure if this is accurate or not, but only some of the kids had sombreros for the song. The others stood there looking dejected because they did not.  I'm of the opinion that any co-worker who would stoop so low should have to handwrite a letter of apology to each of the children scarred for life because they were without festive headgear for their performance.   

I had planned on changing from my sneakers into boots, putting on some make-up, and looking halfway decent for the performance since this would be my first public appearance in front of most of the parents, but that never happened.  Instead, I made my grand debut in gray pants, a somewhat nice pink top with a gray button down cardigan over it bearing the company’s embroidered insignia, and my well-worn black and gray walking shoes.  At least, I had on a gray and black print scarf and a little lipstick.

I’m not much one for fashion or makeup usually, but I’d hoped to look a little better before the throng of parents, grandparents, co-workers, and administration, some of whom were pretty gussied up for the occasion. 

After pleading with the audience to sing along with us, I sat on the floor near the aisle with my back to the crowd so as to be as inconspicuous as possible.  I did the motions to remind them of the words for the Twelve Days and sang along (since my voice had come back).  I wasn’t blocking any parents from the show nor was I blatantly identifiable as the only adult responsible for what was happening on the altar, so I’d say it was a win-win.     

Actually, the kids did great.  They skipped right over the four calling birds because the girl doing the Five Golden Rings was so eager to do her part and jumped in a verse early.  Aside from there not being enough sombreros for each person, the kids did a good job singing and dancing to that song as well.  I received compliments on the performance, but I have no fear anyone will be knocking at my door to put together a Spring Sing.  Again, it’s all good. 

The Feast of the Immaculate Conception as Kick-off for the Year of Mercy

Contrary to popular misconception, the Feast of the Immaculate Conception (always on December 8) is the celebration of the Blessed Mother Mary being conceived without sin.  It is considered a holy day of obligation, a day in which Catholics are invited and encouraged to participate in the sacrifice of the Mass as part of the solemnity. 

This morning I went to 9:00 Mass at St. Bridget Church along with some 450 children who attend the parish school there.  Hearing the voices of children singing the songs warmed my heart.  Seeing all of them there in uniform with their teachers made me think of the days when I used to attend St. Mary School many years ago.  I smiled, thinking of how wonderful it is to be at Mass with the three silly sisters singing right beside me. 

Monsignor Carr stood before the statue of the Blessed Mother to one side of the altar to begin his homily.  He pointed out Mary’s position in life and in Heaven as one that welcomes us in, offers us solace.  When gazing at the statue, I felt Mary beckoning “come to me.”  Her hands are outstretched and open, ready to receive us.  She’s ready to hold our hand, draw us into her arms, listen attentively, and comfort us. 

Mary is the best example I know (besides Christ, of course) who said yes to God, though she knew right away that it would completely change her life, require some huge risks, and major adjustments. 

Today begins the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy announced by Pope Francis.  The Solemnity of the Immaculate Conception is a fitting kick-off, because it illustrates how God has loved us and longed for us to be reconciled with Him.

He made Mary without sin from the moment she was conceived in her mother’s womb to be a stainless tabernacle for the Son of God.  This didn’t mean she had to say yes and be open to God’s grace, but it certainly helped her to accept the grace the Lord had already given her to do what He would ask.  What to her was an unplanned pregnancy to the rest of humanity was the redemption and salvation of all humanity.

It’s far too easy for me to fall into thinking that my yes to God doesn’t really mean that much or make that big of a difference.  To some extent, it makes sense God won’t ask something as monumental of me as He asked of Mary.  Or will He?  Each one of us is asked to submit all that we are, were, and will be in mind, body, and spirit to the Lord. 

In my life, there have certainly been times when it takes every ounce of strength, grace, and energy in me to do what God has asked of me.  Long before I understand the how or why, He asks me to move forward in faith.  He doesn’t force me or give me an ultimatum.  God invites me to trust Him more.  He waits more patiently than I do when I’m not ready, yet. 

Questions for Reflection and/or Discussion:

Do we realize that our faith, hope, love, inspiration, joy, peace, prayerfulness, kindness, generosity, and gentleness can have a significant influence on those around us?  

How can we be more open to the Holy Spirit in big and small ways each day?  

What is one way the Lord has brought you closer by working in and through someone else?   

My Prayer: 

Lord, thank You for the gift of Our Blessed Mother Mary who by her openness to Your Will shows us the power, honor, glory, and humility of saying yes to whatever You ask of us.  Please give us the courage to turn to You in our doubts, questions, fears, and weakness to listen for Your still small voice guiding us ever closer to Christ.  Amen.

Whose Line Is It Anyway? Popular Songs, Catchy Tunes, and Questionable Lyrics

This is an original piece of artwork I did when
I was on my colored pencil and stencil kick.

Don’t tell me you haven’t done it. I won’t believe you!  

For years there’ve been countless popular, really catchy songs that upon closer examination have weird lyrics, mixed messages, some challenging grammar, special syntax, and the propensity to be seriously screwed up by adults and children alike. 

I might share some of the favorites my husband and I have in another post, but in this one, I'll stick to songs many people have heard on the radio many times.

(Just an fyi, there are some PG-13 words, topics, and humor in the following links to music videos.)  

This is the most hilarious video I have seen thus far of a comedian talking about lyrics he’s misheard.  What’s even funnier is that once you hear Peter Kay's version of these lyrics, you will likely be amused, appalled, and wish this bit lasted another hour or two.

Chanting Preschoolers "Uptown Funk" by Mark Ronson and featuring Bruno Mars

Sometimes, you don’t even need to mess up the lyrics to make people do a double-take.  I found it impossible to keep a straight face when a group of three-year-olds burst out singing “Up-town funk you up! Uptown funk you up!” over and over again.  

No music was playing.  They started chanting this anthem on their own apropos of nothing I could figure out.  One of the boys wasn’t articulating as clearly as he could have been which made the experience even more surreal in a no-you-didn’t-just-say-that sort of way.

Not-so-High-Fidelity  "Honey, I'm Good" by Andy Grammer

This is a watercolor piece I
accentuated with Sharpie markers.

“Oh, no. Honey, I’m good.  I could have another, but I probably shouldn’t.  I’ve got somebody at home, and if I stay, I might not leave alone.” 

Yes, I’ve seen the music video on Youtube of one couple after another holding up how many months, years, even decades they’ve been together, but if you just listen to the lyrics, then there seems sufficient reason for concern. 

Now, I don’t know about you, but I’d just as soon my significant other didn’t go around calling other fine-looking women “honey.”  I’m just sayin’.  And is this the bartender asking this guy if he wants another drink? or someone propositioning him? or both? 

“I’ve got somebody at home” doesn’t sound like much of a long-term commitment of love and fidelity to me.  Then, you’re undermining any argument you might have had for good judgment by stating that remaining in the same bar/club for longer could persuade you to leave with someone else (who isn’t the ‘somebody’ at home). 

Locked Up Leads to a Love Lockdown "Locked Away" Rock City featuring Adam Levine

  

“If I got locked up today, and they took it all away. Tell me honestly, would you still love me the same?”

This I made using hearts
and paper scraps left over
from my other projects.

Um, yeah no.  I’m not sure what you did that they locked you up, but I can tell you right now that whatever it was, I’m not going to express my love to you in the same way while you’re behind bars as I might if you hadn’t resorted to criminal activity and landed in the slammer. 

We'll Both Be Numb? "Can't Feel My Face" by The Weeknd

“I can’t feel my face when I’m with you, but I love it.”  Okay, I watched the music video for this one, and I’m any not closer to understanding what he means.  I don’t drink, smoke, or do drugs, and maybe that’s what it would take for me to comprehend what he’s referring to in this song.  I’m not willing to experiment with these substances, but if you do and/or for some other reason have a clue about why he can’t feel his face when he’s with someone, pray tell. 

Napkin Notes: Creating a Daily Connection with Those You Love by Garth Callaghan

I put off reading Napkin Notes until I felt the time was right. I knew Garth Callaghan’s story would resonate powerfully with me after losing my dad when he was still fairly young.  (I mentioned my hesitancy to tackle this international bestselling book in a recent post: Handwritten Notes, Simple Prayers, and Redemptive Suffering.)

Reading Napkin Notes reminded me of the book The Last Lecture in which Randy Pausch, who was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer, gives suggestions, encouragement, and inspiration to his children about how to live a meaningful life.  Some of the messages about being yourself, making good choices, and living in such a way that others are uplifted by your life are covered in both books.  

My dad died just 16 days after he turned 54.  He didn’t live long enough to see my youngest sister graduate from high school or meet his first grandchild.

In some ways, my dad’s life and Garth Callaghan’s have been similar.  Both hailed from upstate New York, were raised Roman Catholic, and served as altar boys back in the day.  Each of them became successful businessmen known for their can-do attitude and perseverance.  A fondness for alcohol, willingness to travel for work and an innate desire to provide financial security and stability for their families drove them to keep going long after others would have quit physically, emotionally, and/or spiritually.    

While still in his 40s, Garth had been diagnosed with kidney cancer twice, prostate cancer once, and told he has an 8 percent chance of living past five years.  He and his wife Lissa have one child, a daughter named Emma, who he feared he might not be alive to see graduate from high school. 

Suddenly, a daily practice he started while Emma was still a little girl became even more meaningful to both the writer and the recipient of these little lunchtime notes.  Garth decided that he would write enough napkin notes that even if he doesn’t live to or through her senior year of high school, Emma will still have a napkin note from her dad for each day of school she has from now through graduation.  He did the math and determined he would need to complete 826 napkin notes in order to reach his goal. 

The written word is powerful, especially in the digital age, where most people would sooner send a text, post a message on a Facebook wall, or shoot someone an e-mail than sit down and handwrite a note, card, or letter to a loved one.   

What a gift that Emma has a father who desires so much to be there for and with her as she goes through life.  What a blessing that Garth Callaghan has been inspired to do something each day to reach out in love to his daughter.  And what good fortune that the message about the importance of connecting daily with loved ones has been spread far and wide.

I highly recommend Napkin Notes, the book and the concept of reaching out now, even in the simplest ways, to let your loved ones know how much you care about them.  Click here to read more about Garth Callaghan, Napkin Notes, watch one of his many TV interviews, and/or to meet the man behind the napkins.   

Four Important Things I’ve Learned about Hospice Care (from experience with my dad, grandma, and both of my in-laws)

This is an original piece of artwork
done some years back by my youngest sister.

Sometimes we are able to get used to the fact someone we love won’t be with us on Earth for much longer, but that still doesn’t necessarily make their passing easy for them or for us.  Other times, death comes suddenly, and is a jarring shock to all involved. 

The truth is we don’t know how long we have left here.  I’ve found honesty and a willingness to be vulnerable go a long way towards connecting with others on a deeper level.  When my dad was in a great deal of pain physically or was struggling in mind or spirit, I wanted him to feel safe enough to tell me that. 

I remember assuring him time and again I’d rather know the truth than have him expend extra energy pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.  There were days when he was hurting too much to pretend, though he wanted to.  It was difficult seeing my dad so weak and fragile. 

The anguish he experienced pierced my heart as well, because, although I wanted very much to alleviate his suffering, there was only so much I could do.  I took courage in knowing the whole time that my family and I weren’t alone in all of this.  In addition to his doctors and medical professionals, we now had additional experts who were there for my dad as well as our family. 

Fortunately, my dad didn’t lose his sense of humor throughout the whole ordeal.  He referred to his nebulizer as his “peace pipe,” and joked about getting a wig with dreadlocks for when his brothers came to visit. 

He really freaked out the social worker on his hospice team when he asked how much it would cost for him to be cremated.  Given the estimated expense, which if my memory serves me correctly was somewhere in the $1000+ range, my dad suggested we just put him on a huge barbecue spit/grill sort of thing outside of his place once he died and have the Eagles (one of his favorite bands) playing in the background. 

His hospice nurse knew my dad’s twisted sense of humor after just a couple of her weekly visits, but the poor social worker was stopping in to see him for the first time.  She was rather unprepared for such a gruesome proposal.  Alarmed and unsure if she should take him seriously, she had to go back to the office and write a very in-depth report.

My direct experience with hospice care has thus far included each of Kevin’s parents, my father, and maternal grandmother.   These are some helpful things I’ve learned along the way.

1. Ask questions, express concerns, and feel whatever you’re feeling in front of these health care professionals.  This group of people can handle whatever comes up and has probably been through at least some of it before. 

2. If you as a hospice patient or the family member of someone in hospice care are worried that you might no longer qualify for hospice services, talk with your team about these concerns right away.  Under no circumstances should you start rationing your medicine for fear that you will be kicked out of hospice care.  This includes breathing treatments as well as pain medication.  It is too hard on the individual as a patient, the hospice team as well as the family. 

There are many organizations and resources for help with medical costs, including prescriptions.  Part of what the hospice team is helping to do is ensure your comfort and quality of life.  Don’t undermine your health and doctor’s orders by not following the prescribed regimen.   

3. Is it possible to be “kicked out” of hospice care? Yes, sort of.  My maternal grandmother got well enough that she was out of her room playing cards and visiting with people several times in a row when the hospice nurses came to see her, so they figured she probably no longer needed their services.  My grandma, mom, and the nursing staff at Little Sisters of the Poor all agreed on this.  (If you’re going to stop qualifying for hospice care, this is a great way to get out of it in my opinion.)

4. Talk with your family about your impending death.  Caregivers should feel free to ask hospice what signs to look for to know that the end is imminent and near at hand.  Discuss funeral arrangements and burial preferences honestly, openly, and (preferably without unnecessarily flipping out your assigned hospice care social worker and causing them to fill out a whole lot of extra paperwork).

Handwritten Notes, Simple Prayers, and Redemptive Suffering

How Could That Be?! 

I stared in shock at the handwriting on the envelope.  Had someone held onto this all these years and just now mailed it to me?  The cursive writing looked so very much like my dad’s: large uppercase letters with smaller, tight lowercase ones, slightly disconnected from them. What was the significance of mid-November 2015 for this to arrive in our mailbox? 

False alarm.  The card was actually from one of my Christ Renews His Parish sisters who has moved to Colorado, but the jolt got me thinking. What would a letter from my dad say at this point, after he’s been gone from this life for 6 years, 3 months, and 12 days?  I think it would be simple, honest, loving, sincere, devoid of all attempts to prove his importance, brag about his accomplishments, or call attention to himself. 

What if my life is, in part, one major chunk of what my dad’s letter would be? The mere thought that’s the case brings tears to my eyes and a sense of being completely overwhelmed and underqualified, undeserving and incapable of living out such a legacy.

The Dad Connection & the Napkin Notes book

Thursday night I began reading Napkin Notes by Garth Callaghan.  I’d put off reading it until I felt like I was ready to tackle this book by and about a father who writes short notes to his daughter Emma and puts them in her school lunches so she’ll be reminded each day of his love and also have something to remember him by.

When I recently requested a review copy of this book from Garth Callaghan, who is actually a member of our parish, I had no idea how famous this homespun concept of connecting with your loved ones daily through brief handwritten notes had become. 

In light of my own father passing away when he was still pretty young, I wanted to pick the right time to read it.  I figured this week was as good as any to read Napkin Notes. Unfortunately, the timing couldn’t have been more fitting.   

Handwritten Notes & Simple Prayers

Friday afternoon, while on my lunch break at work, I learned that my Godfather/my dad’s best friend from college, who has been battling an aggressive type of cancer for many years, has decided, based on what his doctors have recently told him, that it’s time to add hospice to his team of caregivers.  

This doesn’t seem fair or believable that this is happening now, just a couple weeks after his mother-in-law passed away and while his wife has also been undergoing treatment for cancer.  

How can this be?  What do I say, write, or do for this family at this time?  The only thing that seems like it will make any difference is to pray for them right now.  Beating myself up over not being better about writing them and staying in touch regularly isn’t going to help. 

I’m feeling exhausted, sick, and worn out myself, so my prayers are stripped down to the bare minimum at present.  Sometimes, all I can manage is: God and a loved one’s name.  Please be with them, help them discern Your will, and take care of them are all implied.  

It reminds me how my dad used to pray the Rosary sometimes.  Instead of praying the usual prayers, he would name a different person for each bead of the Rosary and pray for that individual.  I now have the blue Rosary my dad used for such simple, bare minimum prayers. I trust those and mine are made powerful because they are united with the perfect sacrifice of Christ’s Passion and death on the Cross. 

Redemptive Suffering 

There are times when we have reached our threshold for pain and suffering, but even then, or especially then, we can still offer whatever we are going through to God to use for the salvation of souls in time and eternity. 

Writings from the saints on redemptive suffering remind us of how offering our hurt to Christ in conjunction with the anguish He endured as expiation for our sins, makes everything from the smallest discomfort to the deepest sorrow powerful, meaningful, and of eternal value.

This family and all of those who are entering the holiday season with a loved one in hospice could really use our prayers and support right now.  Will you please join me in lifting them up?

Note to readers: I will continue sharing my thoughts, reflections, and prayers on the topics: terminal illness, parent/child relationships, losing a parent, hospice care, leaving a legacy, and Napkin Notes in subsequent posts.  Please subscribe to receive new posts and/or check back soon to read more.  Thanks and God bless.

Vive la France! A Prayer for True Liberté, Égalité, Fraternité

Lord God, who are Love and Mercy itself, help us reach out to those who are suffering in mind, body, and spirit.  Let us be a listening, compassionate presence to those who have experienced tremendous loss and are grieving.  Let there be peace on Earth, and let it begin in each of our hearts and homes.  May it spread far and wide, reaching well beyond borders, languages, religions, and political ideologies in the name of humanity, healing, and hope.  Amen.

Flashbacks of my time in France

In light of the recent terrorist attacks in Paris, I’ve been thinking about what it felt like to be overseas when brought to my knees with the shock of the terrorist attacks that took place in the US on 9/11.

Less than two weeks before, Kevin had driven me up to JFK with my huge bags and kissed me goodbye as I set off to spend my junior year in Paris, France. Kevin and I had seen the Twin Towers from a distance, of course, not knowing that the New York skyline would be altered forever in a matter of days.

Increased security and fear were more apparent even over in France after the terrorist attacks took place. We were advised to tell anyone who asked where we were from that we were Canadian or Australian, just to be on the safe side.

    

In the months to come, I got a bitter taste of the devastation felt in NYC and around the country. It wasn’t the graphic footage or the heart-wrenching stories, but visiting the areas in France that had been bombed during WWII that brought it all crashing home. Some of the churches and structures we saw had never been renovated after the attacks. The ruins, the museums, the photos and videos of places we had walked by just hours before shot through the history books, lectures, dates, and distant places.

For the first time, I got a sense of how horrifying it would be to live in a place where armies were invading, bombs were being dropped, soldiers were coming in tanks…it really scared me.  I would never claim to know how awful war is, but I’m sure that’s when I came the closest to feeling and seeing how terrifying it could be.

My thoughts and prayers are with those in Paris and around the world who are suffering at the hands of cold, heartless people led astray by a legion of lies.  

A Few Photos of My Booth and Supportive Peeps at the Craft Fair TodayI

Kevin helped me laminate Spiritual Diva bookmarks for me to give out,
and he helped me get everything out to and back to our vehicle.
He also was kind enough to bring us some sustenance from Chipotle.

I was tremendously grateful when my mom said that she would be
happy to come and help me sell my photo art cards at the
St. Edward's Craft Fair on November 7, 2015.

These are just a few of the new line of notecards I unveiled at this art show.

Due to rainy weather and other events happening this morning in our area, there wasn't as big a turn out at the Craft Fair today. I'm still glad I did it. It was wonderful to have the love and support of my mom, Kevin Potter, as well as several of my CRHP sisters and Cursillo friends. I got to see the following lovely ladies at my booth: Eileen, Arline,Leslie, Barb, Julieta, among others.

I still have a great selection of card sets perfect for gifts. E-mail, call, or text me. If you're in town, we can set up a time for you to come over or for me to come to you so you can select the designs and types you'd like in person. If you're not nearby, I can e-mail you catalog and notecard options, an order form, etc. Don't worry! This wasn't your only chance to get some Prints of Grace frame photo art cards or newly designed notecards.

Would I Be a Good Mom?

It has been one of my biggest fears for quite some time that I wouldn’t make a good mom. I know full well that the high level of care I strive to provide for other people's children isn't something I could keep up 24/7.    

Even without children of our own for whom we are biologically or legally responsible, nannying for 10-11 hour days when my husband or other immediate family members have been sick, recovering from surgery, and/or in hospice care has pushed me to and sometimes beyond my limits physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

I have been reminded in many ways recently that I am the only person who has thought I would need to be perfect in any role. God doesn't expect or ask for perfection. He asks us to trust Him and love others. I still need to get way better at both of those, but He knows I'm at least trying. Lord, help me be open to Your will in all areas of our lives. You are all we really have, and You give us all we really need.

When I had my week back with the three silly sisters, Rainbow Dash asked me more than once when I was taking care of them if we have any children at home, though she knows the answer is no.  When she asked me again on that Friday, I told her that she knows the answer to that question already: we don’t have any babies at our place.  Her response: “but you have us!”  Yes, we do.  And for that, Kevin and I are truly blessed and grateful!

A co-worker asked me one day what Kevin and I think about having children.  Yes, I remember writing this blog post not too long ago:  Top Six Things Never to Say to Couples, Parents, or Caregivers, but this was a genuine inquiry with intent to listen, so we had a discussion about it. 

There was a butterfly flying around the playground while we were talking about foster care and the adoption option.  I couldn’t help but think of a dear Cursillo friend who adopted her daughter from China after a long, arduous journey.  Throughout the stacks of paperwork and years of waiting, the butterfly was a symbol of hope and promise for her.  It was a sign from heaven that her dream and deepest desire to be a mom would eventually come true.    

The idea of being foster parents scares me, because it would absolutely break my heart if we took care of a child then it was decided he or she would return to a bad situation.  I know that’s not what’s supposed to happen, but that too often, it still does. 

I experienced such a sense of loss after I stopped nannying for “my two little guys” that I had a significant period of mourning.  I can’t imagine how profound that would be after having a child live with us for any length of time. 

I’m apprehensive about adoption for a few different reasons.  One of them being that if it’s a local adoption, there’s a chance the parents could change their mind and want to raise the child themselves, which would be heart-wrenching.  Several friends who have adopted have had a very long, strenuous, expensive journeys (ones they know have been worth every second and every penny) to bring home their children.   

Kevin and I have talked about foster care and adoption, and we’re open to both.  Either one would be something God would have to put on our hearts and make us absolutely certain that’s what He is calling us to do.  Right now, we’re doing the best we can to get by and take care of each other while loving and nurturing the children God’s placed in our lives. 

 

God has brought about some major transformation over the past year (to read more about one aspect of this, see How and Why I Broke My Addiction to Sugar), so anything is possible as He continues to work in and through us.  In some ways, it’s been a relief that we don’t have kids when we’ve dealt with major health complications, the deaths of our parents and other family members, financial worries, car issues, etc.  

Working with kids and other adults who see how I am with children, I am frequently asked the questions: Do you have any children? (or when young kids ask): Are you a mommy?  The reflection I wrote called A Mother's Heart has given me some comforting aspects of mothering to think about and pray over.

Lord, lead us to be who You have called us to be and open our hearts to anything You call us to do that will bring You greater glory in time and eternity while helping others to experience the tenderness and compassion of your unconditional love. Amen. 

Please keep us and all couples who love kids but for whatever reason don't have any of their own at this point in your prayers. Thanks!