Where I'm From: Dad

 We had Dad's birthday party almost a month ago. I decorated the Fellowship Hall of their church in green oak leaves and acorns. I purchased a beautiful print of an oak, based on a watercolor painting by a young man named Antony based in Kiev. Bill and I matted and framed it; after the party was over I gave it to Dad as a gift. I also wrote a poem for him. Ages ago a meme of sorts went around social media of free-form poetry titled "Where I'm From...". Earlier in my blog I wrote where I am from; two poems, each representing one side of my family. Here is the one I wrote for Dad:

I'm from Somerset, Kentucky and Columbus, Indiana. From the big house on Chestnut, from which I couldn't leave on my own.

I'm from a mule-riding sheriff and my maternal aunt also my paternal grandma.

I'm from an uncle for whom I was named, who died from a Kamikaze pilot.

I'm from a Dad who walked to the hospital to have a brain tumor removed; and from the miracle that removed the tumor first.

I'm from bluegrass and big noses and a near-replay of a family feud.

From iron skillets, outhouses,and a home bursting at the seams from my parents' generosity.

I'm from beans and cornbread, cherry pie, and a full table.

I'm from big gardens and garter snakes - wrapped around the doorknob for Mom's "pleasure".

I'm from drowned baby ducks, and a little brother who also drowned.

From a one-room school and skipping a grade, and putting one over on my physics teacher.

I'm from a pink Chrysler and dyeing my clothes to match; and a hayride where I met my future wife.

I'm from forgetting my dress shoes on my hotter-than-Hades wedding day.

From faith and hymns and singing in a quartet.

I'm from tending chickens and teaching my children not to be chicken.

From near-misses and miracles and the miraculous journey of life.

And now I'm from teaching my great-grandchildren about the miracles of the journey,just as I taught their parents, and their parents before them.

The blessing That is My Parents

Last week my self-loathing reached a high again. Again I was overwhelmed with everything there was to do and only me doing it. So, of course, the necessary changes around the house and yard come too slowly. I felt inadequate, insufficient, invalid. And angry. So angry! Until my rages were affecting my children. Until I was saying hateful, hurtful things. Until I couldn't function anymore. So, in tears, I called my Mom and asked if I could come to them. Was I worried I would treat them the same way? Of course. I also know they have thicker skin than my young adults.

So I've been at my parents' place. It hasn't all been sweetness and light. They bicker. Almost constantly. When I'm in a good place I can remind myself they've made this dynamic work for them for 60 years. When I'm not (and I'm not) I slide into my from-childhood attempts at peace-making. It's exhausting, unnecessary, and ineffective. Yesterday we were in my hometown. None of us has been there for about 25 years and we no longer know it well. It was easy to get turned around and wind up where you didn't wish to be. This frustrated my Dad, who got angry and loud; which in turn frustrated my Mom, who'd castigate him and give suggestions of how to get where we wanted to be in the same breath. I cringed in the back, occasionally putting in my opinion and wishing the noise would stop.

And texted Bill when I got in: "I should have just gone to hospital. There's no shelter from the storm here - there's just more storm."

Nonsense! Firstly, I never want to be in the psychiatric hospital again! Never. Secondly, since I've been an adult Mom and Dad have always been a safe haven for me. They just say, "Come ahead", and begrudge me nothing. I always leave with more than what I had when I arrived. They love me.

These are my parents. In two days, they'll celebrate their 60th wedding anniversary. In a week is my Dad's 80th birthday. (He's three years older than Mom.) We're having an 80th birthday party for him on Saturday; kids, grandkids, and the great-grandbaby. Then a drop-in time for his sisters and brother, and his church family. 

I won't be here for Dad's actual birthday; I was here for Father's Day, though. I wanted to get a picture of us in our Sunday-go-to-meeting clothes (we looked good!), and Mom's blood sugar dropped. She's an insulin-dependent, type 2 diabetic who didn't eat quite enough for breakfast. In our concern for her our picture was forgotten. There will be other opportunities, God willing.

Always a safe space. Everyone should have one.

What I wore

 

Tuesday, May 28, I was able to get cortisone shots in my poor, painful SI joints. Something comfortable and loose was in order. This outfit, given to me by my Mom, feel like pajamas. It's a bit big, even more of a plus for this occasion.

Normally, nautical/tropical/seashore is not my thing. And this is a very matchy-matchy garment (probably bought from QVC, knowing my mother). Yet it's comfortable; it will work wel as a bathing suit cover-up both at the gym and at the beach.

Mom felt it was too tight on her legs, which is why I ended up with it. I get other outfits for the same reason. Why doesn't she dress the body she has, rather than the one she used to have? You get used to buying a certain size and it becomes your default: you still see yourself in the mirror that younger size: hope springs eternal. What ever the reason, me and my girls are the lucky recipients of her hand-me-downs, 

I wore this to my therapist's appointment May 30th. It's actually a sleeveless, mock-wrap dress (wrap dresses are usually quite flattering on me, though this picture doesn't really reveal that).

I didn't feel in a good place at all that day; I dressed up hoping to improve my mood. You know, when you feel pretty, you're a little more confident, a little more loquacious, more inclined to smile. That day it was necessary.

The dress was purchased at Willow Tree Thrift Store in Monticello. All the proceeds from there go to their Domestic Violence Shelter. I believe the sweater came from ThredUp; an online consignment store. Fabulous site!

I've made a conscious decision, in the pursuit of frugality and sustainability, to ONLY buy pre-loved clothes. Helps our wallet - helps our planet ... win-win!

My husband once saw our daughter Monica in a lightweight, beige, swing-y skirt. She had paired it with a sky-blue, slim-fit tee and a pair of wedge sandals. Bill fell in love with the concept of that outfit. We've both been looking for pieces for me to make that look for over a year now.

The sandals came from Willow Tree; the tank from Goodwill. I don't shop at Goodwill often...more of their money goes to their CEO than to anything else. Sad. Yet sometimes between appointments I'll slink in there. It's been hard, though, to find a light-weight skirt with a twirl. Finally, ThredUp posted this beauty. I snapped it up.

The 6th of June I had an appointment with my bariatric nutritionist in Decatur followed by a date with Bill. Hence, "his" outfit for the first time. He approved.

There have, of course, been other outings. I'm still getting used to being in front of a camera. I don't do well either taking pictures or having my picture taken...and that leaves my children with no pictures of me. I'll be gone someday and a picture is all they'll have. They may as well actually have one, yes? May you leave a memory when you're gone.

New Year, New Goals

The beginning of a new year. I used Jen Fulwiler's  Saint Generator, and was chosen by St. Paul the first Hermit. His patronage is of the clothing industry and weavers. Fascinating, as  I hope to include sewing and woven jewelry into my projects this year.

I also used Jen's Word of the Year Generator. My word is PURPOSE. I love it! I know my purpose is to get my family to Heaven and my chief commitment is to family and home. I pray daily that my kids...anyone...may only see Christ when they look at me. And now that I'm healthy and have energy I can bring order and peace to our home.

My purpose is also to be a fitting helpmeet to my husband. I feel a great urge to pray with him daily and to do more to help with expenses. I hope to make a boatload of sellable crafts and set up a booth at craft fairs, bazaars, etc. As I get more proficient with more complex items I may set up on Etsy - but that will be a few years down the road. I'll need to start small and build up. I'd like to recruit some of the kids to work with me and perhaps pay them with the proceeds. That too will take some time. We'll see how it goes.

I also chose a Focus Word: LEAN. Since gastric bypass surgery I've lost about 80 pounds. I continue to lose weight and am determined to reach my goal of 135 pounds by April 13th (one year out from surgery). About 30 pounds to go - it is doable. I wish to exercise daily; core exercises every other day with other targeted areas on the off days. A walk daily with Bill and the therapy pool as often as possible. My body will get toned and lean; I'll be strong enough to answer any call of God and will be taking care of my temple.

LEAN has other meanings as well. I plan to lean into our Father, relying on His Strength and Providence. To do this I need to speak with Him daily, get to Mass regularly, try to add a daily Mass or two to my schedule, Lectio Divina, continue my Adoration hour (it's SO fruitful!), volunteer when needed, practice hospitality. Add these in a little at a time so there's no overwhelm. Make good habits.

It's obvious I need some kind of schedule. There's always appointments to get to, Monica has school, meals and prep time need to be added...it may be challenging but it will be doable.

I also want to blog this journey. Sunday is a good day to do that: one day a week is a good starting goal.

Whew! Exciting plans! I'm a turtle, though, not a hare. Slow and steady wins the race. One goal at a time will be implemented. That way all will be accomplished well. I'll refer to my list of goals often, I think. Otherwise I'll forget my motivation and lose my way. It's a "long and winding road" that leads to God's door, but I'm on the way. One foot in front of the other and I'll finish the course. Walk with me.

Unexpectedly Caught Up...And Yet,,,

I am one month and one week ot from gastric bypass surgery. That first week, I lost about twenty pounds of excess weight. What?! The next week I lost two pounds. What?? Did I do something wrong? 

From then on, it's been two-four pounds weekly. I know this rate of loss is much healthier. I can't expect the pounds to just melt off, twenty pounds a week, until I'm at that impossible-seeming goal; the proper BMI for someone my height. I was unexpectedly caught up in the numbers on the scale.

I did this for my health. The weight loss was secondary - I wasn't interested in that. A nice bonus, but not part of my health goal. And yet...it is. The more weight I lose, the less my knee hurts (I currently have a disability tag in my car in order to park in handicapped spaces because the knee pain and instability were so bad. I had to use a cane, and scooters in the store.) The more weight I lose, the less my SI joints hurts (four injections over a year; none helped for long.) The more weight I lose, the less stress on my heart, my blood vessels, my legs and feet...the less inflammation in my body. That means even less pain; possibly an end to migraines, less arthritis pain, less fibromyalgia.... Since this journey began, I've had one day of overall pain...I felt as though I'd been beat. Everything hurt. The day before, though, I had WAY overdid it. Not even cleared for exercise, and my Beloved and I wandered around Allerton a long while the day before. By the next day, after the pain day, I was fine. Once I had a headache. Just an ordinary, run-of-the-mill headache. Don't know when that last happened. Before, all headaches slipped into migraines almost before I could register them. Incontinence even seems to be gone. I have no idea what the mechanism behind that is, but I will take it!

So. I did this for my health, thinking the weight loss was just a happy benefit. And almost despaired when I realized I was so shallow as to get caught up in how many pounds I'd lost. Vain. Fitting right in with society; pervading, invasive American culture. I wanted my mind on HEALTH, not weight loss. And yet, weight loss is health.

I have lost 24% of excess body fat. I have lost 5 BMI points. No longer considered morbidly obese, just obese. I'm on my way to health through weight loss. Please pray for me.

Freedom from...is this a sin?

"He does not ration his gift of the Spirit."       --John 3:34

"Thou hast multiplied, O Lord my God, thy wondrous deeds and thy thoughts toward us; none can compare with thee! Were I to proclaim and tell all of them, they would be more than can be numbered."       --Ps 40:5

I never thought my eating habits were a problem. When I cooked for the family (which, admittedly, was rarely) we had a meat, a starch, and a non-starchy vegetable. Since I often was nearly bedridden, my husband or , again rarely, one or more of my daughters cooked; the servings of starch went up and the vegetables pretty much... disappeared. Now I really can't complain, right? He's doing this wonderful service for me, which shows he loves me, because most of the time he's wiped out too. Brain work, requiring concentration and attention to details, many times is more taxing than physical work. So we'd end up in a "carb coma" for a short time, needing a nap, and wake ready to nosh. Eating much more than intended, and much more than necessary, on a particular day. Is this a sin?

I was/am? also an emotional eater. Angry with one of the kids? Stuff that emotion down with some chips. Frustrated with Bill? Push it in with some cheese and crackers, A LOT of cheese and crackers. Simply bored? Popcorn, nicely buttered, is always a panacea. The list goes on: grieving, exhausted, sad, happy, energetic, lonely, need a reward...all were "satisfied" with unhealthy, in nature or in portion size, food. Is that a sin?

Yes. They both are sins. The first: "Do you not know that you are God's temple and that God's Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy him. For God's temple is holy, and you are that temple." (1 Cor 3:16-17) 

The second is a sin because I'm not relying on the Lord, I'm trying to fill a God-sized hole with food; it doesn't work. "For those who live according to the flesh set their minds on the things of the flesh, but those who live according to the Spirit set their minds on the things of the Spirit... ." (Rom 8:5)

Our family is quite fond of the Aubrey/Maturin series of books written by Patrick O'Brien. In _Blue at the Mizzen, before telling Captain Jack Aubrey about a naval attack on Valparaiso, Chile, the naturalist, spy, and ship's doctor, Stephen Maturin says, "I tell you most solemnly that I must be fed." "Well, if your god is your belly, I suppose you must worship it," said Jacob.

Our god has been our belly. We are to "abstain from every form of evil." (1 Thess 5:22) "I appeal to you, therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship." (Rom 12:1)

"Nevertheless,He did not come to abolish all evils here below, but to free men from the greatest slavery, sin, which causes all forms of human bondage. (CCC #549)

Health and Mercy

"The last degree of love is when He gave Himself to be our Food; because He gave Himself to be united with us in every way."                                         ---St. Bernardine of Sienna

On April 13th I had Roux-en-Y Gastric Bypass surgery. I chose to do this in order to gain some form of health; type 2 diabetes, high blood pressure, high cholesterol, constant pain from fibromyalgia, arthritis, migraines, back issues (my SI joints were getting routine corticosteroid injections) ... lingering pain from knee replacement surgery done in 2008 and mildly damaged in 2015. I had no energy, no stamina, virtually no hope. I mourned the person I used to be: capable and strong. I no longer canoed, or hiked, or camped, or socialized, or just about anything. I didn't have the spoons. If I did have a good day, inevitably I did too much, and would have to spend the next few days in bed doing nothing. When does invalid become in-valid? For that's how I felt: isolated, useless, forgotten. And there was unrelenting pain.

After some research, I realized this surgery would help more of my conditions than anything else. I had accepted the fact that my body's set point for weight was around 250 lbs., a lot to carry on a 5' 4" frame, but there you have it. I took this option for HEALTH. The weight loss was just lagniappe.

So. Surgery the 13th. I followed all the rules preparing for the surgery - a highly motivated candidate. My last blood sugar pre-op was 197: the first post-op was 115. Half of my medications are gone: my body can no longer absorb them properly. Others have lesser dosages. My way of eating is forever changed, of course, and exercise must become my good friend. it's worth the cost...I've had more energy the last week than I've had in years! My family has to keep reminding me to take a break. There has been no pain other than the incision sites. Not a headache, let alone a migraine. I have stamina. BP readings are on the low side of normal. I've lost 9 lbs. (as of Wed. I only weigh once a week.)  I'm 11 days out from surgery. If it can make a difference that quickly, just imagine the possibilities! Oh, I've been. 

This surgery has been a Blessing: a Mercy.

Today is Divine Mercy Sunday on the Church calendar. In Dives in Misericordia, Pope Saint John Paul II tells us that Divine Mercy is the ultimate manifestation of God's love in a history injured by sin. John 3:16 declares "God so loved the world that He gave His only Son." In the Easter vigil we proclaim, "To redeem the slave He has sacrificed the Son." Our own despicable situation, caused by sin, is placed by God into the loving heart of Jesus, faithful to the Will of the Father and Food for our souls. That's Mercy.

In today's second reading we find, "I, John, your brother, who share with you the distress, the Kingdom, and the endurance we have in Jesus..." We are all distressed. The sin in our life strangles, maims, leaves us spiritually bedridden. Then Christ appears; makes us valid through the Sacraments, shows us the Kingdom as long as we endure in His Way.

"Let those who fear the LORD say, 'His mercy endures forever."       ---Ps. 118:4

Book Girl

"A woman who reads is a woman who taps into the fundamental reality that she was created to learn, made to question, primed to grow by her interaction with words. A book girl is one who has grasped the wondrous fact that she has a mind of her own, a gift from her Creator, meant to be filled and stretched, challenged and satisfied by learning for all the days of her life. A woman who reads is one who takes ownership of herself, aware that words give her the holy power to seek, to grow, to question, and to discern. She knows that to read is to begin an adventure of self-formation in partnership with the Holy Spirit that will shape the choices she makes, the dreams she bears, the legacy she leaves in the great tale of the world."

Sarah Clarkson Book Girl p 34

I have always been a book  girl. I don't remember a time when I could not read. My parents are both readers and I probably picked it up by osmosis, following their fingers across the page as they read to me. I was given the impression that this reading business was fun; but not only that, it was important. What child doesn't want to do important things?

I distinctly remember my first days in kindergarten. I was excited; I'd been told I'd learn new things! We learned the Pledge of Allegiance (to this day I distinguish my left and my right from how I stood facing the flag in that classroom). We had a game, song-time, then we settled down to work. On the alphabet. I was baffled - this wasn't new! I did it for the first week, until I felt safe enough with Miss Gibbs (the gentlest of souls but I was a wary child) to admit to her that I already knew my alphabet. I already knew how to read. I said this with some trepidation as I didn't want to get kicked out of kindergarten because I knew more than the other kids.

I grew up in a rural Indiana community with about 0.1 percent diversity of any kind. Miss Gibbs was my first exposure to an African-American. She was beautiful, with a well-modulated voice, quiet and warm, and with infinite patience. I loved her dearly. Didn't even mind when she married over Christmas break and became Mrs. Whalen (though it was hard to remember the change). Knowing the alphabet already was certainly possible but she was, understandably, a little skeptical that I could turn all those letters into reading.

She sat on one of the little chairs, pulled me close to her side, and asked me to read a book to her. She chose, I read. After three books, she was convinced. From then on, at alphabet time, I was given worksheets to practice printing, or math worksheets, or sometimes coloring pages. I wasn't kicked out of kindergarten and I did learn new things!

I devoured words. I've read, through my life, anything I could get my hands on. Cereal boxes, of course. Dad's Andre Norton, Mom's current fiction. They didn't curtail my reading. If I had questions, we could discuss. I think I read Valley of the Dolls when I was 10. That was shortly followed by Flowers in the Attic and Salem's Lot. Yuck. That was when I realized that just because it was a book didn't mean I had to pick it up. I stay away from horror, movies and books. The books are more detrimental to me; I put my own images to the words which is much more realistic than the gore pictured on the screen. I read Mom's romance novels throughout my teens, until I was glutted. Then I had a realization. I was growing increasingly restless, not only with those books but also with my life. I wasn't catching a stranger's eye across my algebra classroom. Nor was any handsome rogue eager to rip my dress away from my heaving bosom. And I had a sneaking suspicion that if one tried it, I would knee him in the groin and run away. 

I came to the realization that I was dissatisfied with my life because of the words I was stuffing into my head. They were giving me unrealistic expectations. My ordinary life didn't measure up. I'm so glad the Holy Spirit led me to that realization. Otherwise I would have kept up my steady diet of the stuff of unreality as a means of "escaping" my ordinary life. This is the siren call of soap operas and porn magazines; any addiction really. Unrealistic expectations.

So I cut out romance as a genre of interest (recently I've let it back in, a book here or there, if highly recommended by a trustworthy source). Discernment. Knowing what suits your life, your season and circumstances, your available time...it all matters in the reading life. I can't go willy-nilly through the library stacks pulling out random titles. I have to have a plan. I have a to-be-read list as tall as I am and getting bigger by the day (I put asterisks by titles I really want to read before I die). Then I choose my books to look for by what I want to get out of them in the next month. Am I having trouble praying? I'll choose reading to address that need. Just a bit of fluff? A mystery to read in waiting rooms. I usually have several books going at once, a practice I learned from my husband. And I've learned (though I still feel a little...guilty) to abandon a book if it's going nowhere for me. I once read The Catcher in the Rye for "fun" : I loathed it. And I thought, but this is a classic; I must have missed something. And I read it again! Nope, hadn't missed anything, still hated it. There's no more of that. I've tried 3 times to get through War and Peace; the last time I was more than half-way through. I cannot do it. If I've abandoned a book 3 times at 3 different seasons of my life it's time to throw in the towel.  Some people can do this innately; I had to teach myself, to give myself permission to put a book down without finishing it. I have a page at the back of my book journal that simply says DNF (did not finish). I put the title there with a line or two of why the book wasn't for me. 

Through the years I fed many interests and learned much with words. From all the poetry as a girl, confidence-building as a teen, college degree in Bible, other cultures while single, marriage and family, child-rearing and homeshooling, different abilities and love languages. I read my way into the Catholic Church. Books have shaped my life. Let them shape yours.

     "Ah, how good it is to be among people who are reading."

                            Rainer Maria Rilke Letters to a Young Poet

Catholic Writers Guild

I was privileged to attend the live conference of the Catholic Writers Guild this year. It is held in tandem with the Catholic Marketing Network and this year was in Lancaster, PA. I am currently working on a memoir of my child -bearing years; over the course of 6 pregnancies I spent 1 1/2 years on bedrest! I also converted to Catholicism, and received 2 medical diagnoses that could have been devastating. The book will tell how we managed and, I hope, be a tool for women put on bedrest in their own pregnancies.

I learned much at the conference. I signed up for a non-fiction critique group July 31, and really scrambled to get 10 pages of my manuscript ready to go. Arriving at the group, the leaders had no idea who I was, and had not received my manuscript! We agreed O could audit the session. It was God's hand! As I listened to the conversation and took notes, I realized, my work is not ready to be critiqued. It needs real reworking. I intend to join the Guild, join the online non-fiction critique group, and submit my manuscript a piece at a time then.

The first day of the conference was informative and interesting. I may have found a niche for myself. I wish we could have stayed longer. We took it as a girl's trip, with my mom, two daughters (we celebrate each girl starting her period by including her on a trip: one more daughter to go), and myself. My eldest daughter and I attended the conference; she is a poet. There was a poetry critique group scheduled, however, my daughter was the only signee. She was rewarded with an hour of one-on-one time with the leader, an established poet. An excellent confidence builder for my girl! But my mom had to be home for another obligation, so we  had to leave the second day of the conference. And, although there is ample opportunity for Mass, we didn't get to attend this time. We had a lovely time anyway.

I am now in a fibromyalgia flare because we drove from IN to PA in one day. I can't get my mom to understand my limitations. We did break up the trip back; after 8 hours we found a motel. We were heading to IL and 12 hours driving was a little more than mom could do. So I am in pain and fatigued. Apparently, the conference has been in Schaumburg, IL in the past. Perhaps it will be moved back. Lancaster was difficult to negotiate, we found. Still, a good time.

Quiet Kids

Help Your Introverted Child Succeed in an Extroverted World by Christine Fonseca. This book provides specific strategies to teach introverted children how to thrive in a world that may not understand them, that seems designed for their extroverted peers. The book shows how to develop resiliency, self-confidence, and enhance the positive qualities of being an introvert. It addresses academic performance, bullying, and social anxiety. I had high hopes for this book, because all but one of our large family are introverted (the remaining child is an ambivert). However, I had an extremely hard time getting through it. It includes self-reflection guides, tip sheets, checklists, workbook  - style tasks, overviews, q & a sections... What text there was seemed dry to me. The tip sheets were helpful, but the rest of the book just didn't hit me where I am. Too bad.

With Every Letter

This is a historical novel by Sarah Sundin, the first of the Wings of the Nightingale series. Set in WW II, Lieutenant Mellie Blake is training as a flight evacuation nurse. Lieutenant Tom MacGilliver is an engineer stationed in North Africa. They participate in a morale boosting program, writing to each other anonymously. They both have reasons to keep their identities secret, but they both need real friends. Through the letter writing campaign a friendship develops. Could it be more? Should they meet? Then they're both stationed in Algeria. Will their friendship bloom once they meet or will their fears of the past keep them from meeting? This book really resonated with me, as writing letters is how I got to know my husband in the days before computers were ubiquitous. Living in two different states we were "set up" by my college roommate, his colleague. I gave her permission to give him my address but not my phone number. And so we began. By the time we met, months later, we knew each other quite well. It's a system I would recommend.

Not at this time

I have several health conditions; pain conditions, that keep my activities in check. These conditions have gotten markedly worse in the last few months. So much so that I'm considering withdrawing from Boy Scouts, which is my only volunteer position at the moment, takes the most out of me when I participate fully, and is one of my biggest joys.

The local theater group is auditioning for a production of Twelve Angry Women this week; and I thought it would be fun to audition. I would love to get involved in something that maybe wouldn't take so much of my energy, where I could meet potential friends. However, if I were to get a part, the rehearsals, I'm sure, would be at night. I can no longer drive at night (I can, but vision issues make me feel unsafe), so Bill would have to drive me. The actual performances will be held at a busy time for our family; we have other obligations. So. Not at this time.

I will have to keep thinking it through. Whether to quit Boy Scouts. To add something new if my pain and energy level can handle it. At the moment, that's a NO. Though I desperately want to. I cry thinking about giving up things that bring me joy. Becoming bedridden. I really don't want to offer it up; I want to keep going!

Father God, help me accept my situation as it is. Help me offer my suffering in accord with your will. Oh, help me be holy! Amen

Be gentle with yourself

I was having a conversation this evening with Secunda and Quatorze... Secunda getting more and more passive aggressive and, finally, a bit vicious in what she said. I gathered my things up to leave as Quatorze fled the room in tears. Then my beautiful teen apologized and cried. We were able to speak calmly about what was going on and find some solutions.
 
At one point, I said to her, "You are so hard on yourself! And I don't know where that comes from." She looked at me as though I'd sprouted two heads. Then, quietly let me know she just acts like me. My heart broke!!! I made a pact with her that we would both try to be gentle with ourselves.

I tried. I tried to keep my mental illness, my self deprecation, my own loathing away from my children. I don't want any of them to be my age and have to look back on such a life. Don't get me wrong: my life is lovely now. But by the time it became that way I had such an ingrained habit of looking at myself negatively... I am having trouble breaking that habit. And now one of my vital, amazing children has seen and internalized that nasty habit. I tried to teach them that they were loved by God, important simply because they were made in His image and likeness. Unfortunately, my actions have spoken louder than my words. Father God, help me with damage control. Because this negative self image and harsh self treatment is damaging! Give me the words for each of these precision souls. I love these people you have entrusted to me. And I'm learning to love myself. May we be gentle.

The Shepherd of the Hills

This lovely work by Harold Bell Wright is my mother's favorite book. So when my Reader's Challenge included "A book published before you were born" I knew what it had to be. I had actually read it once before, in my teens, and hadn't seen what all the fuss was about (it was one of my grandmother's favorites, as well). Now that I'm an adult, with children and a relationship with God, I get it. It's a gentle tale of second chances, forgiveness, and the love we bear through the generations.

Daniel Howitt comes into the Ozark mountain community of Mutton Hollow from the City - the world outside. For reasons of his own, he takes his place among the simple backwoods people as a shepherd for Grant Matthews and his family. He teaches young Sammy Lane how to be a real lady, since her intended has gone to the City. He fills in for the preacher. He finds a home and, eventually, peace for his heart. There are secrets revealed, and pride broken down, and hearts eased. It's a lovely book. Highly recommended.

My Stubborn Heart

Can't think why I had a Christian romance novel by Becky Wade on my to-be-read list. Any kind of romance novel. I determined long, long ago I could not read romances; they left me dissatisfied with my life as it was and I just couldn't handle that irritation. Now that I'm married, actually, now that my identity comes from God rather than from my husband or our relationship, I find I can read romances again. The Christian romance is often quite saccharine, setting my teeth on edge (and there seem few Catholic Christian writers in this genre). 

This book avoids the too-sweet pitfall. It's well written, with real interior struggles between main characters and the Maker included. Kate, disillusioned by both her work and dating, agrees to accompany her grandmother to Redbud, Pennsylvania to restore her childhood home. Their contractor is Matt Jarreau, handsome, clearly wounded. What in his past could cause this rift between him and others, God, himself? Kate sets herself the task of finding out.

The Forgetting Time

I didn't like this debut novel by Sharon Guskin. I don't agree with the subject matter, reincarnation, and actually should have stopped reading when I realized that was what the book was about. However, by that time I was invested. And, it is against my nature to stop reading a book mid-stream.

Janie is a single mother of a "difficult" son. Four-year-old Noah is terrified of water and won't take a bath. He has horrifying nightmares. He cries inconsolably, asking when he's going home and where his other mother is. Then Janie gets a pivotal call from Noah's preschool and help for him becomes crucial. Jerome Anderson was once a preeminent scientist, but his research led in a laughable direction. Now, he may be Janie and Noah's last hope, and, after a devastating diagnosis, they are definitely his last case.

John of the Cross: Selected Writings

From the Classics of Western Spirituality series, edited by Kieran Kavanaugh, O.C.D. I have long been interested in Carmelite spirituality and picked this up for my morning devotions. John of the Cross wrote beautiful, mystical prose and poetry, but I had not familiarized myself with his work. Taking pieces of this book in the morning would be just the ticket, I thought. No. Maybe it was the fact that these were just selections... maybe it was the translation used... maybe it was simply not the right time for me to tackle this Saint. The Ascent of Mount Carmel was difficult: The Dark Night well nigh impossible! The Spiritual Canticle easier: The Living Flame of Love most available, understandable, and my favorite offering in this book. Knowing his two most important works left me scratching my head is a little depressing. I have farther to go on the spiritual path than my arrogance(?) was thinking, and look how far I've come! With God's grace, I'll get there.

The Birth Order Book

Why You Are The Way You Are, by Dr. Kevin Leman. Dr. Leman takes the four positions in the family; first born, middle child, baby, and only child, and tells how that position helps shape your personality and influences your interests and career choices. He gives the typical strengths for each birth order to nurture and the usual weaknesses to be overcome. He includes relationship information of all types. I enjoy personality theory books; this one is more anecdotal than evidence based, though he does include notes referencing scientific studies on occasion. I have had the pleasure to hear Dr. Leman speak at a Hearts at Home Conference; he is a delightful man. This is an enjoyable book. It helped explain some things I'd wondered about in my family of origin for many years. Big plus!

Trixie Belden and the Marshland Mystery

By Kathryn Kenny. This series was one of my favorites growing up; and when I came across this one at a Friends of the Library sale recently I couldn't remember reading it. My children have not been drawn in by Trixie and her friends as I was, though I think some of the books have been read by some of them out of curiosity. I wanted to belong as a young person, and had an empathic soul that wasn't really nurtured. Reading about the Bob-Whites, the altruistic club Trixie forms with her friends, satisfied some of that longing in me. My children have each other for friends and we try to volunteer as a family. I was drawn to mysteries; my kids not so much. They like science fiction or fantasy more. I don't mind, although those are my least favorite genres, because they are reading. They also expand into non-fiction on occasion. A steady diet of one type of food is not only boring, but leaves you malnourished. In the Marshland Mystery, the Bob-Whites try to keep an elderly woman from being forced into the Home by the City Council. A rainstorm foils their plans, but as luck would have it, another way opens up. A child prodigy complicates matters, but of course that situation is resolved nicely as well.  That may be another reason I liked these books; nothing is left messy. All the ends are tied up in the best possible way. Not like my life at all. Pure escapism.

The Most Dangerous Place on Earth

The debut novel by Lindsey Lee Johnson seems spot on; and I am so extraordinarily grateful to have escaped high school before the days of ubiquitous social media! My own high school experience was extremely negative as it is; if I had the ills of seeing the cruelty of my peers in my own home through a gadget I held in my hand... I may not have made it. This novel is about the real people under the typical high school stereotypes and how decisions made affect everyone. How cyber bullying works and it's effects. The difference a teacher can have, both positive and negative, on a student's life. And the feedback a teacher may get from his/her peers. A sorry book. Some elegant writing, just the wrong vehicle for me.