Wildflowers

Where you'd least expect them,

.

"Look and you will find it. What is unsought will go undetected."

~ Sophocles

 "The Earth Laughs in Flowers."

-  Ralph Waldo Emerson

 "Flowers are the sweetest things God ever made and forgot to put a soul into."   

-  Henry Ward Beecher

"If seeds in the black earth can turn into such beautiful roses, what might not the heart of man become in its long journey toward the stars?"  

-  G.K. Chesterton 

These wildflowers we found a couple weeks ago, some almost hidden, nestled in the sage of the high desert -- others (mostly the purples) growing bold and brazen and thick on the roadsides of the higher mountain passes.

Mountain Adventures, pt.1

One hot June day a couple weeks ago before Br. Philip left to go back to the seminary, we decided to to on a drive and look for a cool, shady place -- preferably with some running water nearby -- where we could spend the afternoon playing, splashing, and exploring.  Everyone here knows the drill:  get into play clothes, pack snacks and bottled water, cram into the minivan and turn up the tunes.  We decided to head south to hunt this time and, approaching the Billy Creek wildlife refuge, we spied a dirt road, zig-zagging up the mountains in the distance. Knowing that there are a lot of creeks and reservoirs in that vicinity, we turned southeast and followed and followed and followed, up and up and up...

And this is what we saw when we got to the top:

See the sawtooth range jutting up over there?  That, I believe, is the backdrop for John Wayne's famous "reins in his teeth" scene in True Grit -- though a ridge and a valley over from where we took this picture.

Check it out.  Isn't it something? No water or place to play, but, just... Wow.  Most of us were glad we'd made the drive.

It was an incredible drive to an incredible view!

But not everyone was happy with the process of discovery. This is how William felt about getting there:

"Seriously, William?  Have I ever driven off a mountain that you know of?"

Muffled voice from under the beach towel: "I don't want to think about it!"

We tried to cheer him up, distract him...

"Smile, William!"

But he wouldn't smile and didn't trust his siblings when they told him it was safe to look.  A fellow knows when not to trust his puckish brothers and sisters.... (And his mother thinks he was probably wise not to.)

When we got to the top, we pulled over, and after a little cajoling, he finally took the towel off his head and agreed to get out for a picture, so long as he was standing next to Br. Philip, whom he could trust not to throw him over the edge....

This is the formal, rather abnormal shot:

Top to bottom, left to right: Theresa, Dominic, Cathy, Michelle, Br. Philip; Anna, Gabe, William

This one is more true-to-life:

In the end, I'm happy to report, nobody was thrown off the cliff.  Br. Philip kept his hand safely on William the whole time Mommy took pictures...  Then William got back in the car and covered his head again until his mother assured him that we really were back at the bottom of the mountain.

It was all good, despite William's worst predictions.  Everyone lived.

*Coming soon:  More of what we saw and found and did that day -- wildflowers, snowballs, and Llamas!  Too many pictures for one post. Stay tuned!

Our Life, Our Sweetness, and Our Hope

On the Feast of Our Lady of Perpetual Help

little me -- kindygarten

The image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help has special meaning for me.  My very first personally-
owned picture of the Blessed Mother, I remember taking it from where I kept it propped on the windowsill near our bunks at bed time.  I was maybe five years old, kindergarten age -- and personal property had special meaning to a child who already had four siblings and very little that was 'specially her very own.  Climbing with it up onto the top bunk (my sister, Linda on the bottom bunk snoring away), I'd trace my fingers around the white plastic, lace-looking frame.  I loved how Jesus' little hands were wrapped around his mother's, but I wondered what He'd done to kick loose his sandal, and wondered that His Mother hadn't noticed it yet and fastened it back on.  I guessed she was distracted by looking at me. There was gold foil on my little picture and I would tilt it back and forth to see the shine of of the gold foil background.  I wished Mary and Jesus would smile; they both seemed so serious.  I don't think I noticed that Jesus seemed to be looking over at the cross, or I may have figured that out.  But I was very little and had more experience with homely things than heavenly things.  I did wonder about the letters that weren't really letters. Being in kindergarten, that was a primary focus of my existence at the time: noticing, forming, and sounding out letters.  The ones on this picture made no sense, though and when I asked, my Mom just shrugged and said she didn't know either.  My mother had only been Catholic a few years at the time, so I understand now how it is she didn't know.

I expect many people, cradle Catholics and converts, pass right by this image without realizing how meaningful it is. I didn't know for years and years.  It wasn't until I had children of my own, that I learned how the image of Our Lady of Perpetual Help is practically an encyclopedia of faith; every nuance has purpose. Every color, every tilt of a head, every letter has meaning.   How cool is that?  My own special little Blessed Mother, without saying a word teaches the whole world.  

Check out the share below, and in the following links to learn all about it.

  

Shared from the official website of the shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help, here is the meaning of the iconography:

1. The Virgin
2. The Child Jesus
3. The Archangels with the instruments of the Passion
4. Greek Abbreviations MP OY = Mater Theou:       Mother of God
OAPM = O Arkanguelos Mikael: The Archangel Michael
OAPG = O Arkanguelos Gabriel: The Archangel Gabriel
ICXC = Iesus Xristos:   Jesus Christ

The Face of Mary:   A Portrait of the Mother of God The type of image used corresponds to portraits of the Mother of God. It refers to the Theotokos of the Council of Nicea (325), Ephesus (431), Chalcedon (451). It also refers to the Virgin Mother of God of fundamental themes of Marian iconography.

The Eyes of the Mother of Perpetual Help:
The eyes of the Mother look towards us with compassion and love.

The Star on the Virgin’s Forehead THE EIGHT-POINTED STAR

In ancient christian iconography it means the ray of light, the hand of the Father who blesses from on high or the dove that descends bathed in light.
Signify the coming incarnation of Christ as announced by a prophet. It also appears in the nativity.
In pagan iconography it is a symbol of Divine presence.
Mary is the star that guides the faithful as once guided the Magi.

The gilded background  and the circular halos invite us to contemplate the great mystery of redemption - the incarnation, the “elevation” of Christ on the cross and his “ascent” into heaven on the day of the Resurrection.  This is  is why the archangels appear to repeat the following words: “ We bow before the Cross and glorify your Resurrection”.

The eyes of the child look resolutely and calmly towards  the instrument of salvation, the cross

The sandals falls from the child’s foot,  signifies the child’s knowledge -- and fright and is also a symbol of redemption (cf Ruth 4:7)

The Great Hands of the Mother of God: Mary’s hands have a highly symbolic significance.

In her right hand she holds the hand of He who holds the universe in his hand.
Her right hand is the Hodegetria hand, the hand of she who shows the path to Christ, who is the Way the Truth and the Life. She appears to say to us, “Do whatever he tells you.” (Jn 2:5)

The Instruments of the Glorious Passion of Christ

The instruments of the passion do not appear as signs of Christ’s execution but as a memorial to his glorious Passion.

~+ - + - + - + - + - + ~

* For an even more in-depth explanation and discussion of everything from the meaning behind the colors chosen for this image, to the specifics of the looks on their faces, another great site is Mary's Touch.

* Source of the above abbreviated, illustrated explanation: The National Shrine of Our Lady of Perpetual Help  A history of the image can also be found at this site!

Prayer to Our Lady of Perpetual Help

O Mother of Perpetual Help

Imploring aid we come to Thee

Look down on us from far and near

Thy Mother's care will calm all fear

Perpetual Help, we beg of thee

Our souls from sin and sorrow free

Thou fairest flower of heavenly grace

O turn to earth Thy sinless face.

Novena to Our Lady of Perpetual Help

Oh Mother of Perpetual Help, grant that I may ever invoke your powerful name, the protection of the living and the salvation of the dying. Purest Mary, let your name henceforth be ever on my lips. Delay not, Blessed Lady, to rescue me whenever I call on you. In my temptations, in my needs, I will never cease to call on you, ever repeating your sacred name, Mary, Mary. What a consolation, what sweetness, what confidence fills my soul when I utter your sacred name or even only think of you! I thank the Lord for having given you so sweet, so powerful, so lovely a name. But I will not be content with merely uttering your name. Let my love for you prompt me ever to hail you Mother of Perpetual Help. Mother of Perpetual Help, pray for me and grant me the favor I confidently ask of you.
(Then say three Hail Marys).

* Our Prayers today on this feast of Our Lady for all our friends and family who have asked for our help storming heaven; for pregnancies, for sick children and other family members, for jobs and financial situations, for the success of our schools, for the conversion of loved one, and most especially for a world that seems to have gone mad.  In reparation for sins committed against the Immaculate Heart and the Sacred Heart of Jesus, particularly in reparation for the sin of sodomy -- and for God's mercy on our troubled country and our declining civilization: Mother of Perpetual Help, we turn to you with confidence!

My Mom's Birthday -- And Thee Chocolate Cake Recipe

The Birthday Girl

My Mom, Susan, when she was about twelve years old.
(Can you tell she was -- and is -- just a cupcake?)

This shot is from her 73rd birthday, which we celebrated with the whole family
on her actual birthday, June 11th...

And this is the birthday cake we made yesterday at our house when we celebrated with Mom/Grandmom again.
(You can't have too many birthdays, right!?)

If you're a chocolate lover, like my mother is, this is Thee Cake!

It is the thickest, richest, chocolatiest cake imaginable.  My Mom's had a lot of chocolate cake in her day and she proclaimed this the best she's ever eaten.   For a birthday, bake sale, Sunday dinner treat, breakfast, or whatever... this one is the best!  (We all attest to it at our house, anyway!)

 Tunnel of Fudge Cake

(From Scratch)

Ingredients

1 3/4 c. butter, softened

1 3/4 c. granulated sugar

6 eggs

2 c. powdered sugar

2 1/4 c. all-purpose flour

3/4 c. cocoa

2 c. chopped walnuts

Beat butter and granulated sugar in large bowl until light and fluffy.  Add eggs, one at a time, beating well after each addition.  Gradually add powdered sugar, blending well.  By hand, stir in flour, cocoa and walnuts until well blended.  Batter will be quite thick.

Spoon batter into greased and floured 12 cup Bundt pan or  10 inch angel food tube pan and smooth out evenly.  Bake at 350 degrees for 58 - 62 minutes.  Cool upright in pan on cooling rack, 1 hour.  Invert onto serving plate.  Cool completely.  Spoon glaze over top of cake, allowing some to run down sides.  yields 16 servings.

Note.  Nuts are essential for success of this recipe.  Because cake has soft tunnel of fudge, ordinary doneness tests cannot be used.  Accurte oven temp and baking time are critical.. In altitudes above 3500 feet, increase flour to 2 1/4 cups plus 3 tablespoons.

Glaze:

3/4 c. powdered sugar

1/4 c. cocoa powder

1 1/2 - 2 tsp. milk

Combine sugar, cocoa and milk in small bowl and whisk until well blended. Adjust to thick pouring consistency. Store tightly covered.

* We had used our last ounce of cocoa on the cake and didn't have enough left for the glaze, so, as you can do with any glaze like this, we improvised.  Instead of milk, we used strong coffee and a dash of caramel syrup.  It was yummy.

Diamonds In The Rough

It was ten years into our life together that Dan and I bought the farm.

(Heehee!)

 I mean, we actually purchased a farm.  Because we had a meager surplus of funds after selling our first

Not quite "before."  More like "during."

house, we couldn't afford the already-finished working farm of our dreams, but all things considered, after seeing everything out there, we thought we got a good deal.  Just the thing for raising our four little boys and brand new baby girl.  Forty miles outside the city limits, it was a forty acre property, with a plethora of outbuildings, an old cottage-style house -- and lots of promise.  We could see it plainly.  Behind the bad windows and half-rotten doors, under the red shag carpeting and beyond the dead lawn and litter-scattered yard, there was a dream oasis.   

We were young, full of energy, and starry-eyed with optimism, so when a friend of ours saw the place for the first time and was unable to disguise her distaste, we were highly offended.  Sheesh!  How could someone

"After" -- but before the perennials came up that spring...

not see the possibilities?  Sure it was a diamond in the rough; that was obvious. Like, duh!  Didn't she realize that we hadn't had the time to fix it up yet? We showed her around and pointed out the changes we would make, but she was dubious at best, and either unable or unwilling to join in our enthusiasm.   "Hmph! Just wait," we told each other after she'd left, " We'll show her!" And we thumbed our noses in her general direction.  Charitably, mind you (winkwink).

A couple of years later after a heck of a lot of time, money, and sweat equity, we hosted a lawn party, eager to show off the finished product.  Naturally, we invited our friend, and bless the girl, she "oohed and ahed" appropriately at the changes.  And we hooked our thumbs in our suspenders and grinned like fools.  We'd worked so hard for our little country paradise and it was everything we knew it could be. We always knew it had the potential, even if others couldn't see it; it just needed lots of love to bring it out. 

Fast forward a few years and zoom in:

We have a little son named William, our last child most likely. He's seven years

old and he's a flawed little person.  It's true; I love him so much, but it's true.  He's got a sneaky streak a mile wide, and given the chance to work or play computer games all day he wouldn't pause for a second to seat himself at the computer desk.  He's forgetful and has a cocky assurance that can easily be misinterpreted as sassiness.  And he's terribly terribly untidy.

But, you know what?  Man, has he got potential!  His older siblings get irritated when they see that he's snuck away to play in a hidden corner when they're washing the car; they roll their eyes (as do I) when he's supposed to put away the clean silverware from the dishwasher and all he does is open the drawer and dump them all in a heap.  The big kids think he's spoiled, bordering on disrespectful -- especially to them. And, no kidding, he can be a real pain in the neck to all the people he lives with sometimes.  

But he is such a beautiful diamond in the rough.  His Dad and I have always seen the potential in him, just like we've seen it in each of his nine siblings.  Just as we saw it in the old farm.  Little William still needs time and love to bring it out, but he's full of wonderful potential.  We have to love him enough to help him along and he has to love his own self -- and us -- and most especially God enough to perfect himself.  But you have to be blind to not see how special this kid is.

Moving in even closer:

I am so irritated with myself lately.  I made a list of objectives for myself a while

back -- on the order of things ranging from improving my daily habits to bettering my overall life attitude, and as of this moment I haven't been able to check a single thing off as accomplished.  I'm still the airhead that I've always been, I haven't improved my prayer life at all, and I haven't gotten even the least smidgen of a tan yet this summer. =sigh=  Especially when I'm tired or hungry or lying awake with insomnia, I ponder this and cant help but  find myself the worst kind of loser. (When I'm well fed and wide awake I still know it's true; it's just easier to ignore.)

Still, as pathetic as I am, I can't shade myself from God's goodness.  There's no hiding from it.. Even with the unavoidable fact of my ineptitude and weakness looming over everything, I can't help but feel the warmth of it.  The eyes of my soul are drawn heavenward; I peek through my fingers and catch a glimpse of God looking down on me, a ragged and weedy prospect, a flawed child, wayward and uncooperative -- but to Him (and I gasp at the unlikelihood and the enormity of it) full of promise. And the light of that hope is dazzling.  Humbling.

But it's not as if it makes no sense, relatively speaking.  If, with all her weakness, lazy stupid Lisa can look at an old weedy farm and see an oasis; if her whining seven-year-old stirs her foolish heart with love and promise, how much more must our Heavenly Father hope for from the wreck before Him now, typing on this keyboard.  He knows what's possible. Even from me!

How much He must see possible in the whole world!  In each person. Always. No matter what the circumstances.

And all I need, all we need is love enough to help God help us along.

We're all diamonds in the rough.

He knows that even when we don't.

  

Love itself starts with the desire for something good. Without this desire, there can be no love of any kind. Through love, every heart seeks to acquire the perfection or the good that it lacks, or to express the perfection it already has. This goodness is not always moral goodness; it can be physical or it can be utilitarian. But there is not one single area of life that is not affected in some way by love.

~ Servant of Christ, Fulton J. Sheen 

Seven

(Sorta) Guilty Admissions

Yep.  Even dress up to
go hiking.  

1) I have a vanity issue to confess.  I'm not a big makeup wearer; I mean insomuch as I don't actually apply gobs of makeup. Honest. I try very hard to not look like a clown or a goth or a mime or something...  But, I don't ever leave my room in the morning without my hair fixed, my outfit and jewelry carefully chosen -- and my makeup on.  I'm not sure if it's insecurity or personal dignity at work -- or possibly that I feel like I can't move properly into the day, feeling ready and in charge without putting my best face forward, literally...  But, yeah.  If you catch me without makeup and jewelry on and my hair combed, I'm sick.  Like, really sick.  Too sick to be vain.  So be really nice to me, ok?
on

2)   I'm a total sucker for religious art of any kind and will spend way too much to rescue found treasures.  I can barely even dicker someone down over them; it seems somehow disloyal to the sancta in the image not to just give whatever is asked.  (Weird, I know, especially since I'm usually an obnoxious bargainer...) Anyway, I'm not saying how much I spent for this rustic beauty on our antiquing trek last weekend...  But don't ya love it?

Needs some touching up, but there's a place for a votive candle and holy water,
and a little slot for a crucifix behind the holy water.  I'm gonna have to see if
Dominic will carve me a crucifix...

3)  I like to go up and down the aisles of the dollar store, looking for treasures, and the ladies at the thrift stores nearby know me by name.  It doesn't bother me at all that this is sort of "ghetto," as some of my children put it -- and I can honestly say that if we ever struck it rich, I still would never ever shop at Neiman Marcus or Saks 5th Ave.  For one thing, I would just feel terribly out of place.  But, more so: I would feel like I was being robbed.  You see, being a thrifter my whole life, I'd always know, that with enough hunting around I could find the exact same (or a very similar) skirt, or purse, or lamp, or whatever at a thrift store somewhere for a tiny fraction of the price.  And the thrill of the hunt would be so much more satisfying.  So, I guess, along with the fact that I'm a beer drinker (as I get into below), this revelation scoots me down from solidly middle class to hangin' onto the bottom of the middle class rung of the ladder... I have a little guilt that this places my children in a certain socio-economic strata by default.  But it's just a little guilt.  Seeing as we've never yet struck it rich, thrift stores are what's kept them from going around nekkid all these years.

4)  Even though I have been homeschooling my children for more than twenty years and have taught Math up to the point where they hit Algebra, I'm not actually sure I could get a long division problem right without looking at the answers in the teachers' edition.  Sad, yes, but true.   

5)  I take advantage of every opportunity not to cook. The culinary love has completely deserted my heart,

Chef Anna and Chef Cathy

I tell you.  Not that I've ever been a foodie particularly, but nowadays, I'm not even an "eatie."  My diet is so stinking restricted (a modified Paleo diet for a variety of health reasons), that nothing yummy this way comes -- ever.  And I just can't sacrifice whatever it is that needs sacrificing to cook delectables for the children that I can't eat.  I know I'd be the better person (and super-woman, I think) if I could do it.  But, alas!  It's a good thing my children are such excellent cooks.  They really are, too.  And getting better all the time.  We have a rotating schedule of  chefs, with a different child (over ten) planning the menu and cooking every night of the week, except for weekends, which Dan and I cover.  Thank the good Lord the kid-chefs enjoy it, too.  In fact, a couple weeks ago, Cathy (12 and perhaps my best cook) asked if they could keep the kid-cooking rotation going even if I didn't have to be on my lousy diet any more.

You know what I said, right?

6)   I'm a closet slob.  No, I mean, actually a *closet* slob.  I keep my room clean; I do my level best to keep my house clean, in general; I even try to keep the yard and porch presentable.  But my closet?  It's a mess!  I don't know why I have this problem with hanging things up...  I expect there's some deep psychological meaning behind it.  Or not.  I'm debating right now, in fact, having brought this up, whether I should be cleaning up my closet or blogging.  Guess which idea is winning?

7)   I love beer.  The darker and stronger the better.  I expect most folks know that about me by now.  Guinness and I are particularly fond friends -- though we only meet every once in a blue moon. I've come to terms with the notion that this is not a particularly cultured or ladylike taste preference... but, I have to tell ya (and here's the guilty admission)  it was a freeing moment for me -- spiritually -- (No, really!) to accept that I could never be a wine connoisseur, that my tastes are not refined, that I am a plain ole' middle-class, run of the mill beer drinker.  It was a moment of divine humility to realize it -- and when I finally did realize it, I declare the restricting chains of high falutin' expectations for myself clattered down around me -- and I lifted my (figurative) arms to the heavens in a happy dance of freedom.

For better or worse, it seems to be a genetic thing...

Thank God in Heaven I was free at last!

I could jubilantly admit that I like -- no, I love -- coffee and beer, not tea and wine!  No upper crust libations for this girl!  Hallelujah!  And no worries about it at all!  The truth is I find I have more in common with the beer drinking folks usually, anyway; we laugh at the same jokes and put our feet up on coffee tables, God help us.  And I'm smiling as I type out the fact of it.  I'd rather be a joyful beer drinker than an unhappy wine sipper. Someday, when my spiritual shadow darkens the threshold of the pearly gates (I'm hoping!), I will happily join the saints in the corner singing Irish drinking songs -- with my feet up on the coffee table.  And I will toast y'all heavenly wine sippers at the tea table in middle of the room.

Run over to Jennifer's blog, Conversion Diary, for lots of links to lots of Quick Takes!

So, uh....

Was I just saying something about trying to get on here and write more??

Wasn't that about fifteen minutes ago?

More like two weeks?

==sigh==

Time.  Do I need to say it?  Well, it does pass...

Holy cow; look at us.  We were all babies...
(But look at our cute little Pauliwog...)

Quicker than my memory disappears between one room and the next...

Quicker than the little boys forgetting I told them to clean something up...

Quicker than the nano-second that passed between my first glimpse of our first-born's golden brown eyes to the dewiness in my husband's golden brown eyes as he saw his little son for the first time.... and then meeting our first-born grandson twenty-odd years later with those same beautiful brown eyes.

The world is born in nano-seconds. And it passes just as quickly.  Years become like nano-seconds.

So, you can see how a couple of weeks can be lost, right?

But, it's been a busy two weeks.  Ridiculously so.  I'm sitting here now trying to mentally pin down the details of it and they're flying by so quickly and in such a blur, that I'm not sure it's possible to get it all down.  Forget trying to get it on a timeline properly.

In a nutshell, though, I have been to Omaha and back, returning Brother Philip (Diddle-diddle dumpling, formerly my son, Jon) and it was a lovely good long driving visit with him (gosh, I love that young man!), but a fast turn-around back to Denver....  Where I stayed for a week with my sister, Nina, catching up with

Known affectionately around here as
"BroPhi"...
Not to disprespect his vocation,
but because it just takes so stinkin
long to spit out "Brother Philip."

family.  I got to see my Mom and catch up on extended family news, spent some time with my Dad on Fathers' Day, helped unpack and organize my sister's new condo, and got to go antiquing in the quaint little antiquing mecca of Florence, Colorado over the weekend. Then, this past Monday, back to our valley on the western slope -- and home to my own wonderful, lovely, comfortable bed...

And no children!

Dan.  This guy here.  (I think this is him, anyway...)

While I was gone, Dan made an executive decision and kidnapped the kids, taking them to stay with his parents for a week at their timeshare on the beach.  Harumph!  But, I'm not complaining. Not really.  Beach visits really aren't as much fun for Moms as they are for kids.  I know.  But it's true.  A whole other topic for another day...

But, wow. It is strangely quiet here at the house without them.  Quiet-- and perfectly lovely...

Me.  Having "fun" at the beach.

Don't get me wrong, I love my children and am dying to see my husband again (It's been forever since I've seen that guy!), but this is a rare opportunity, being here in the house (almost) alone. Our good friend, Brian, is here, but he toodles around on his own and requires no attention from me.  In fact...  other than the cats and the bird and the chickens, nobody requires attention from me right now...

 Moms.  Think of it.  I know you know what I mean. (Kids and Dad-types, you can try to imagine, but you just won't get it like us Moms...) It is its own kind of little paradise for me right now.  I hope you'll indulge me while I brag on it just a little...

 Since Monday:

* I haven't had to do anyone's laundry but my own

* I've gotten to sleep in as long as I want (!)

* I make my bed in the morning and take care of my own dishes, but other than that, the house stays clean

* I can get up and go when I want, where I want, and stay as long as I want -- no questions asked

* I can eat what I want and don't have to keep tabs on anyone else's menu or eating habits

* I can make a pot of coffee and drink the whole thing if I want to!

* I can go to the bathroom without William standing outside the door trying to talk to me

* No loud, unexplained noises to have to get to the bottom of

* No whining

Though, my little William: he's so cute when he whines...

* I can hear myself think

* I don't have to think if I don't want to

Ahhhhhh......  It's lovely.  

The life of a slug.
 Don't think for a minute I couldn't get used to this.

Except for the fact that in my real life I'm totally spoiled by: 

* waking up to William's snuggling in with me first thing sharing  his crazy, random observations

* Theresa making coffee for everyone in the morning

Anna, who chooses ice cream to match
her outfit...

* Anna, being her own, inimitable, crazy, random, thought-provoking self

*  Gabe going around in full camouflage, making sure everything's taken care of (according to his eight-year wisdom)


* Dominic and Theresa providing the piano soundtrack for the day


* with Michelle accompanying on the violin








* Snuggles, hugs and backrubs from my husband





* the tantalizing aromas of Cathy's merciless Baking (dang my diet...)

* Being compelled to move outside my own selfish, lazy inclinations toward something better and bigger -- with beautiful rewards that transcend time and place -- but are also in the minutia and nano-seconds of this time and place.

It's good to have time right now to reflect, to realize that, though I lose track of nano-seconds, and days, and weeks, and years at times, God doesn't.  It's good that He holds me accountable, or think of how truly wasteful I'd be!  Though I don't focus purposefully enough on the fact of it, I'm truly thankful for every moment He's given me, and the purpose and accountability of each of those moments.  I'm grateful for the gift of this resting time; for the gift of the hectic times; for the gift of time itself.

God's always good to us, when we're paying attention and when we're not. Lord, help me be better about paying attention!  Help me not to miss a single moment.

And help me to be patient and mild when the crowd comes stampeding through the front door tomorrow afternoon!

Us, Now

In the last few weeks, we've had the opportunity to meet up with most of my extended family.  Our good friend Claire, it happens, married our good friend Eric (Kevvy's BFF) and everyone in the world had to be there.  It was awesome.  Epic.  Even my baby brother, David showed up -- and I haven't seen his face since Paul got married -- how many years ago was that, Dave?  

Anyway.  Here are a few pictures taken during a couple of very hectic weeks at the end of May. 

 This is us.

Almost our *whole* family (my side): My parents, my brothers Steve, Daniel, and Dave (Greg's missing); my sisters Donna and Linda, my nieces and nephew Paula, Wendy and Marc (Steve's kids), and Wendy's beau, Wes; and all ten of mine, plus Paul's wife Nicole and Grandbaby Gavin

Smile, children! Stop eating. Smile for the camera!
Aw, Mom!  Really?
 Ice cream from Coldstone or Jamba Juce smoothies (conveniently across the street from each other). L-R: My baby brother, Dave, William (7), Gabe (8), Anna (10- what you can see of her), Cathy (12), Theresa (14), Michelle (17 & 9/10s), Dominic (20), Br. Philip (21), Kevin(23).  Missing Paul, Nicole, and Gavin in this one, doggonit.

L-R, Top: Cathy, Paul,Theresa, Kevin, Dominic, Br. Philip, Gavin, Michelle
Bottom: William, Gabe, Anna

Climbing Back into the Swing of It

Anna (10), who is on page 27 of her book, Selena, advises me that, in order to get back into the swing of writing, I have to actually sit down and write.   It gets easier once you get going again, she says.  And she should know. After a long springtime hiatus, Anna's back in the thick of story writing again; Selena has to get up off of her sleeping novel behind and face the world according to Anna.. 

And, let me tell you: if Selena can get up and go again after all the tragedy and drama in her world, I can get up and go, too. So here I am, getting going again.

Is anyone out there?

Let me know if you're there?  And tell me what I should write about, OK?  I need a little push to get me started before I can get pumping my feet on this swing.

  

Maxfield Parrish, Reverie

Begin Novena to St. Anthony Today

My favorite portrait of St. Anthony.  By Charles Bosseron Chambers.

Novena to St. Anthony of Padua

As for all novena's pray once a day for nine days, beginning on 4 June and ending on June 12th.  The Feast of St. Anthony is June 13th . Or, begin on June 5th to end on the feast day. Some pray a Novena to St. Anthony on thirteen consecutive Tuesdays, per the instructions of Pope Leo XIII, or on all Tuesdays.

Also by Chambers.

O White lily of purity, sublime example of poverty, true mirror of humility, resplendent star of sanctity. O glorious St Anthony, who didst enjoy the sweet privilege of receiving into thy arms the Infant Jesus, I beseech thee to take me under they powerful protection. Thou in whom the power of working miracles shines forth among the other gifts of God, have pity upon me and come to my aid in this my great need.

(Mention your intentions here)

Cleanse my heart from every disorderly affection, obtain for me a true contrition for my sins and a great love of God and of my neighbour that serving God faithfully in this life, I may come to praise, enjoy and bless Him eternally with thee in Paradise.
Amen

Recite one Our Father, one Hail Mary, and one Glory Be.