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Reflections on Columbine

     It was a picture of a baby that made me cry.

     I was at the downtown library chaperoning a field trip for my daughter’s sixth grade class, when I saw an innocent picture of a baby.  And it made me cry.

     We had gone to the library to work on their research papers.  But there was something about this day that made everyone want to cry.

     This was the day after the hideous Columbine school killings and everyone was walking around just a little numb.

     I couldn’t help but look around me at the children busily working on the projects and realize that they were only a few years younger than those thirteen children who were murdered at school the day before.  But I also had to face the fact that they were only a few years younger than the two killers as well.

     When this happened,  I wanted so badly to label the murderers as monsters.  But the fact remains, the most important label we must recognize is that they, too, were children.

     How can ones so young be filled with hatred so strong that they are driven to do something so horrid in a place where we parents believed was a haven for learning?

     Again, the picture of the baby haunts me.

     Years ago, when I sent my oldest off to kindergarten for the first time I was scared.  I was scared about the real world finally touching the daughter I had been able to protect for five too short years. 

     But, truthfully, I was scared for the little hurts I feared my child would have to endure.  I was worried some child would not want to sit next to her on the bus.  I worried she would feel sad if chosen last for a team in gym class.  I worried she might get her feelings hurt by a classmate.

     I never thought to worry that another child might one day bring a gun to school a start shooting.

     Every day, we parents must trust that the bus drivers who daily transport our children are physically and mentally healthy.

     We have to assume that the teachers educating our children are academically and morally good.

     We believe that all the students who attend school with our children, are basically the same as ours.

     But not all are.

     And when children so dramatically fall through a societal crack as the ones did that frightening day, the whole world can hear the thud.

     Or bang.

     For this reason the picture of the baby made me cry.  To think that a child enters this world full of promise and purity and somehow makes such a wrong turn on the journey that is their life, is more than I can bear.

     I stare at the picture for the last time.  I see the small pouting lips attempting a smile.  I notice the soft, full head of dark hair.  I smile at the full, rosy checks.  And then I shut the book, trying hard not to notice the caption underneath the picture:

     Austria, 1889.  Adolf Hitler.”

       

Seaside Inspiration
 
Walking along the Florida beach while the waves wash gently at my feet, I pause to pick up a pretty scallop shell.  Turning my attention back to the beckoning ocean, I feel a sense of awe that mere prose cannot describe.  Words of praise and gratitude pour from my lips as I whisper a prayer that only God could hear above the roar of the ocean.

With my entire being filled with inspiration, I couldn’t help but come to a realization:

Why don’t I take time throughout my non vacation days to stop and marvel at God’s magnificence and praise Him like that?  Is His wonder any less wondrous in my own city –in my own house?  Are not the people in my life more magnificently marvelous creations than the shells on the beach and the pebbles of sand at my feet?

What if I started looking at the each and every person in my life as a precious gift given by God --- like the shells on the beach?

When we walk the beach, many shells wash up at our feet, giving us the possibility of too many to chose from.  Some shells are big and demand our attention.  Other are smaller and take more searching to discover.  Certain shells are broken, slowing us down along our way.  And occasionally, on those special days, we might find that one shell we immediately recognize as a gift.  It is more than worth the effort it will take to grasp it and claim it as our own.  We understand instantly that it is precious.  And we hold tightly onto it.

I never want to be without words of praise and thanksgiving to God when I walk along the magnificent ocean.  But more than that, I never want to be without praise for Him when I walk along this everyday journey of life.  I want to start praising Him daily for the treasured people – magnificent --- whole --- broken--- and beautiful ---that wash up to me throughout the tides of life on the suburban shores of home. 


Profiles in courage

When our community suffers a loss, talk of heroes abounds.  It somehow helps mend a broken heart, as if labeling the loss might give an explanation to the inexplicable. 

So it was this week, while our hometown was still trying to process the feared, but not anticipated news of Staff Sgt. Matt Maupin being confirmed dead by the military, that news began to spread like an errant flame that two of Colerain Township’s finest firefighters were killed in the line of duty on Friday morning. 

The day of the fire, I was teaching at Colerain High School, collecting a Poetry Notebook assignment the students were to have turned in.  Of course, I was also collecting excuses as to why some were not completed.  I heard a lot of “printer broken” or “computer issue” excuse-attempts at justifying the day’s missing assignment.  One student, however, looked different.  She came up to me with tears brimming in her eyes, swallowing hard as she began her explanation.  She explained that her mom was going to bring her Poetry Notebook to her that morning, but she instead got called to the fire station for a news conference.  It seems my student’s dad is a firefighter for Colerain Township, and she didn’t know if he was one of the two she had just heard had died in the fire.  She had no idea at that moment if her dad was dead or alive. 

I asked her if she wanted to go to the guidance office or if there was anything I could do, but she said she’d rather stay in class and wait.  So she did. I watched her as she attempted to read the book in front of her, trying not to stare as she dabbed her eyes, attempting to be strong. 

In her next class, she finally received a text message from her dad telling her he was okay.  Still, for one hour and half, this fifteen year old sat in my classroom, doing her work, not knowing if her life as she knew it was changed forever.

For me, that moment was a gentle reminder that we can’t ever fully know what is going on with someone else.

Just like understanding that a student who isn’t prepared for the assignment might actually be summoning up heroic strength trying to deal with things I can’t imagine, maybe the person driving too slowly in front of my always-late-for-something car is coming home from receiving life-altering news.  Perhaps the man who was rude to me in line at the grocery store is really just doing the best he can at that particular moment.  Maybe we could all be more understanding of our fellow humans if we looked at each other as potential heroes in the making. 

Yes, heroes are incredible, dedicated service men and women who daily risk their lives, often for little recognition or thanks.  They deserve our praise and prayers more than we can hope to offer.  But we need to use these times of tragedies when we pause our over-scheduled lives for just a moment and collect our collective breath, to recognize that each of us may not know what the next person we bump into (or who bumps into us) might be going through. 

Sometimes the hero among us might make the morning paper and evening newscast. But the hero among us might also come in unrecognizable forms, like the young teenager who sits in class for an hour, doing her work while waiting to hear if her dad was still alive.  In remembering this, perhaps we can all be a little more patient and understanding with each other.

I’m not saying we need to make a habit of expecting less from everyone else.  But perhaps it is time to expect a little more from ourselves.



 For Fr. Jim

Standing before the immenseness of the ocean as the sun’s rays dance upon the crest of thousands of rippling waves, I am not surprised to find myself thinking of God’s majestic ways.  And watching those waves begin beyond where my eyes can see, only to rhythmically be delivered at my feet, I am never without praise for my Maker.

I expect that reaction.

What I didn’t expect was to feel that same praiseworthy moment when I looked up on my Florida vacation and saw a parasailer.  But as soon as I caught sight of someone gracefully sailing above the water’s edge, being pulled by a speedboat, a smile came to my lips and praise for the Lord filled my heart.

Because that parasailer reminded me of a very dear friend and all he had been through.  The person sailing above the ocean reminded me of Fr. Jim Willig.

As many know, cancer claimed Fr. Jim at the age of 50, but only after a valiant fight that included writings, books, and recordings that are still with us today to inspire and teach us how to live.  What some may not know is that shortly before he died, in an uncharacteristic moment, Fr. Jim accepted an invitation from a fellow priest friend to go on a much needed Florida vacation.  And it was on this vacation that Fr. Jim and his friend went parasailing.  As his fellow priest tells it, as soon as the speedboat took off and the sailing priests began to rise above the body of water, while most would be catching their breath, Fr. Jim used his breath to burst into song.  It was one of his favorites, “Eagle’s Wings”, and he sang the chorus as he floated above the water:

And he will raise you up

On eagles’ wings

Bear you on the breath of dawn

Make you to shine like the sun

And hold you in the palm of his hand.

And that moment --- that song--- so perfectly describe how Fr. Jim Willig dealt with the incredible set backs and sufferings of his cancer.  He knew no matter how low he got with the pain and frustrations, the Lord would ultimately raise him up. By living this way, he was able to glorify God through his cancer journey, miraculously finding his strength in his very weakness. 

So I guess it’s actually understandable all these years later, that I would see the parasailer raised in the sky, think of Fr. Jim, start singing that song, and utter a heartfelt prayer of praise to God.

And today, home again from my Florida vacation, I find such peace as I glance at the calendar and recognize this day as Fr. Jim’s birthday. Because I understand that there is no more suffering for him, only God’s gracious glory. He too, is back home, and as promised, raised majestically high by our Lord, to be forever held in the palm of His hand. 

The Play

     Someone once said, “All the world’s a stage and most of us are simply stagehands”.

     Well, this last weekend, I was a stagemom.

     You see, my daughter was in a play at her school.

     Now, I have never been a believer in pushing my kids.  In fact, I often go to the other extreme.  At times, I can be heard saying these less than encouraging words: “Oh, I’m sure you don’t want to play soccer…be on the swim team…try out for the play…do you?”

     I say this not for lack of faith in my children, but simply for lack of energy in me.  Because I know that the more things my kids are involved in, the more things I will consequently be involved in.  But in spite of my lack of pushing, my kids have gotten overly involved in everything.        

            So when my daughter came home and announced she was going to try out for the musical, I may not have been the most enthusiastic mother.

     And when she told me she got a part in the play, my excitement for her was held in check with the realization of the commitment that had to be made by the actors and the actors’ families.

     There were rehearsals to attend, little jobs to volunteer for, and costumes to make.  And this didn’t even take into account the time spent helping to learn lines and songs and dance numbers.

     Now we were already shuffling schedules around for baseball practices, cheerleading practices and part-time jobs.  And does anyone remember that thing called homework?  At the rate we were going, we would be lucky to all sit down for dinner together sometime next July.

     So I admit, I was not the biggest dramatic supporter of the play.

     But then it was opening night.

     The curtain opened.    

     And the lights went up.

     Suddenly sitting there in the auditorium filled with my family and the families of all the other little middle school thespians, my heart began to race.  As the first scene began and the children sang, danced and acted their hearts out, I was filled with such pride watching my child and all the others demonstrate what all the shuffling of time and sacrificing of dinners had been for.  I think there is very little that can compare to the feeling parents have when they are watching their children do something they are good at, enjoy, and are learning from all at the same time.

         And as I sat, watching the last scene with tears in my eyes, I couldn’t help but marvel at how fast children grow up.  For now, I was watching these young teens who were now confidently saying their lines to a packed theater, but I was remembering them as a group of little eight year olds who once put on mini song and dance routines in my backyard.  

        I guess the world really is a stage.  And right now I am feeling very grateful for my roll of mom in this busy play we call life.  Every day is a new scene.  No one is exactly like the other.  Sometimes I am sure of my lines.  And other times I stammer for something to say.  And no matter how chaotic the play gets with all the scene changes and shifts in characters, I want to try to remember to applaud the wonder of this precious God-given production. 

     The worst thing that could happen, is to not appreciate this play until the curtain closes.


Hero

There’s  an old song that has the lyrics, “We need a hero/ We’re holding out for a hero ’til the end of our fight/ He’s gotta be pure/ And it’s gotta be soon/ And he’s gotta be larger than life”.

I find myself thinking of that when I read the newspapers, watch the news broadcasts.  Sometimes it gets so frightening, we all just want a hero.

For this same reason, our kids so frequently turn to public figures to find their heroes.  Sports figures, musicians, and movie stars all fill a void for our kids.  This type of admiration is not all bad, as long as it is balanced with a good base of faith.

I was thinking of this the other day after our last snowstorm. 

After a short delay in the school day, I could be found with my youngest trying to get out of the snow-covered driveway to take him to school.  Now, my driveway slants down from the street, which makes it a nice safe area for basketball playing –but a not-so-nice area to try to get a car out after a snowfall. 

My son and I had shoveled. 

We had salted.

We had rocked the car back and forth.

And back.

And forth.

Still, the vehicle was not budging from the lower level of the driveway. 
After 30 minutes of this auto-dance we were doing, my son became worried about his impending tardiness.  I suggested the obvious necessity of perhaps walking to school.  But he suggested we keep trying the rock and roll driveway dance.

Right before I was about to announce the futility of the situation, it occurred to me to say a prayer.

Pray about it. 

I always tell my kids that, so why wasn’t I showing them I do it too?

No sooner did the simple prayer for God’s help pass my lips, but we began to steadily pick up momentum for the first time that morning. 

Slowly and steadily we made it to the top of the driveway as if by a separate force other than the car.

I looked at my 12 year old next to me. 

The amazed grin on his face told me all I needed to know.

At that very moment, God was his hero. 

In a perfect moment of youth, my son had witnessed a plea for God’s help and an immediate answer. 

More powerful than a homerun-hitter, more famous than a rapper or movie star, God was his hero.

Think about it. 

Omniscient.

Omnipotent.

How much more of a hero could he be?

Now, any of us who are old enough to have kids, are old enough to have had prayers in our lives that are not only not answered immediately, but sometimes they devastatingly seem to not be answered at all.   

Sometimes the answer to our prayer seems so obvious to us, but it is not on God’s list of what He wants for us.  And this hurts.

But in spite of all the tests, trials, and tribulations we may have experienced in our lives, the important question to ask is, do we still believe that God is our hero? 

Do we still believe He can make it all better?

Do we still believe He alone knows all, sees all, hears all?

Are we still willing to believe?

“We need a hero/ We’re holding out for a hero ’till the end of our fight/ He’s gotta be pure/ And it’s gotta be soon/ And he’s gotta be larger than life”.

Sure sounds like God, doesn’t it?


 

Lessons from the snowfall 

Last week the call came at 5:30 in the morning.  School was cancelled due to the snow storm. 
The piercing squeal of delight woke the rest of the house. 
No --it wasn't from my children... it was from me. 

Yes, teachers enjoy the occasional freebie of a snow day as well. 

I could finally sleep in. 

Of course, once it's part of your routine to wake at a certain hour, it's hard to fall back to sleep even on those days when you really can.  So it was that I got up anyhow, had my coffee and ---of course ---listened to the Son-Rise Morning show. 

But as the 9:00 hour rolled around, I realized that the downside to the snow day was that there was ---well --- snow to deal with.  And since my husband has one of those jobs that doesn't give him the day off when it snows, I bundled up to face the crystal sheet of ice and snow that had blanketed my driveway overnight. 

"This shouldn't be too hard," I thought. 

I did, after all, have a  snow blower that we had spent way too much money on three years ago and had used about that many times. 

But as I moved the lawn mower, trashcans, and various bicycles around in the garage to uncover the hibernating snow blower, I also uncovered the fact that the key to the ignition was not in the ignition ---or anywhere else.  After somewhat of a needle-in-a haystack search throughout my garage for the missing key, I gave up and resorted to the less technically dependent and more physically laboring device: the old fashioned snow shovel. 
As I began my laborious task, I struggled with the right amount of snow to remove at one time.  I had thought I could get the job done faster by attempting to remove as much snow as possible with each scoop of the shovel.  This unfortunately made the shovel too heavy to lift.  Pacing myself with smaller amounts of snow, actually helped me pick up the pace of my task.

After over an hour of shoveling, my back began to hurt a bit.  I think my feet were soaked but I couldn't really tell because they had gone numb about 30 minutes earlier. 

Then an epiphany hit me like bolt of lightening in a snowstorm.

Didn't I give birth to four children somewhere in the past?  And weren't three of those 4 children snug and warm inside the very house where their mother was now in the driveway in danger of losing a toe to frostbite?

One simple request ---that might have sounded more like a mom mandate ---and I was back inside my arm home and my driveway was being shoveled by those more capable---or at least younger -- than I. 

And once my toes began to thaw out, I think I had another epiphany.   

My experience shoveling the snow reminded me of the way we sometimes face our burdens in life. 

We confidently think we are prepared for whatever may come. 

We are ready. 

But oftentimes when our problems do come our way, we soon realize we have to handle them in a more difficult, more basic way that like ---the missing key to the snow blower ---won't be as easy as we had hoped.

And when we do begin tackling the problem, don't we usually try to deal with too much at once?

 Like lessoning the weight of the snow on the shovel, we quickly realize we must pace ourselves in order to deal with the weight of our burdens.  

And finally, there is always a point where we realize we cannot ---we should not ---deal with the problem on our own. 

At last we ask for help. 

And this help can come from our family and friends, making us very grateful.

But the one we need to always remember to ask for help in our burdens is our heavenly Father.

Truth be told, that day, had I waited, the rain would have come to melt most of the heavy ice, making the shoveling much easier.  But as happens too often, I got too caught up in my timing that I forgot about God's perfect timing.

We need to ask God for help with our burdens both big and small. 

 In doing so, our worries may not simply melt away.  But remembering to ask Him for help, we will certainly be in a better position to face whatever falls our way in the storms of life.

That thing called love  

     Oliver Wendell Holmes once said, "Pretty much all honest truth-telling there is in the world is
done by children." 

It was with this in mind, a few years ago when I walked into my son's first grade classroom prepared
to face the truth.  I was armed with nothing more than a piece of paper, a pen and questions about that
thing called love.

     "Eww!"  many of Mrs. Moriarty's students exclaimed when I shared with them that I was writing
about love for Valentine's Day.  "This is so embarrassing!" was the second most heard comment. 
Once the giggles and guffaws subsided, the students in the sea of six-year-olds became more than
willing to answer these matters of the heart.

     My first question was very simple, as I asked, "What is love?"  The responses to this question
were, indeed, varied:  "Love is something you fall into," replied one.

 "It's something that happens when Cupid shoots you with an arrow," answered another. "Love is
kissing and hugging," (again, more squeals of disgust). 

And finally, "Love is when you just find somebody and marry them."

     Of course one little boy divulged he, in fact, knew what love was, but he wasn't allowed to tell me.

     "Will you get married one day?" I asked the six year olds next.

  Most of the kids agreed they would have a wedding in their future.  Some, quite realistically, predicted
they might even have more than one wedding.  They also shared they would most likely have anywhere
from one to one hundred children.  When asked how old one has to be to actually get married, the
following ages were given:  16, 18, 20, 21, 22, 30, 50 and 52. 

    The next first grade question was, "Do you have a girlfriend/boyfriend now?"  This question was
answered the most enthusiastically with a resounding, "No!" followed by deep sighs of relief.  There
were, however, two exceptions.  First of all, there was one little first grader who was not afraid to admit
he was in love with one of the little girls in that very class.  He loved everything about her.  Unfortunately
though, the young lover of this puppy love was barking up the wrong tree.  The little heartbreaker in
question only had eyes for her daddy. 

     Then, there was one other young man who admitted he did have a girlfriend, but he couldn't
remember her name.  It seems destiny had brought them together at a wedding a while back, and they
had a lot of fun.  He didn't even seem discouraged when someone reminded him the object of his
affection was, in actuality, his cousin.

     It was then time for my final question, "What is Valentines Day?"  The overwhelming response to
this question, was centered around cards, candy, and the classroom party.  But I found it heart-warming
that the prevailing theme throughout the whole first grade interview was family.  Each child kept
mentioning their mom, dad, brothers and sisters every time they spoke of that thing called love. 
Certainly, there were a few comments on siblings who were, at times, a challenge, but for the most part,
all had positive thoughts about the lessons of love that theyve learned in the classroom of their family.

     One student summed up the meaning of Valentine's Day by observing, "It's when you share love".

     Now that's a truth we would all do well to remember tomorrow... and everyday.

     It's pure and simple.

     You might even say. it's elementary.

Ash Wednesday 

Before my youngest was in preschool, he would sometimes accompany me to the Rosary at my old
parish.  One morning, I was half-way through the first decade when I noticed him looking tentatively
around at my fellow parishioners.  Anxiously, as if scared by something, he leaned into me with such
intention, he almost knocked me over from my kneeling position.  Finally, he could contain his comment
no more, as he whispered, "Mommy, these people sound like zombies."

Now, that made me think. 

First of all, it made me think he was watching too many Scooby Doo Mysteries. 

But secondly, it made me think of the way we so often pray and also the way we too often act in our
faith.

Because, I had to admit, he was right. 

The monotone rigidity of the speech of the holy people around me that day showed no emotion.  We
were proclaiming poetic praise in the wondrous words, "Hail, Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you,"
and yet our tone was as if we were randomly reading out loud from the middle of a medical dictionary.

I've noticed this during mass as well. 

So much of our mass is filled with prayers that have been passed down from generations of worshipers. 
These prayers are a sacred thread woven into the fabric of our faith, uniting us with the saints from years
 ago.  How precious are these words!

Unfortunately, we take these words for granted when we forget to actually hear what we are praying. 
The prayers have become so routine, we don't have to think about them anymore. 

So, we don't.

For that reason, too often the words seem to be coming from our mouths ---but not our hearts.  And the
 joy gets lost somewhere along the way.

With the beginning of the Lenten season, I'm afraid this will undoubtedly happen more and more. 

So much of our Lent is focused on the fasting, the sacrifices and the purification, that again, our mood
will be somber and our penitent prayers repetitive. I understand that this is an essential time where we
need to be serious and prepare the way for the Lord and His ultimate sacrifice for us. 

But still, I catch myself facing Lent with joy in my heart.  I want to rejoice in the fact that I know how
this season ends.  I have peeked at the last chapter and cannot pretend I dont know that it is filled
with hope and joy and life.  Knowing that, how can any of us be anything less than impassioned and
full of feeling when we are called to recite the prayers of this season?

I challenge all Catholics to ponder this as well.  Let's start this holy season off right. May this time of
Lent find the words of our faith pouring out of our hearts, not just falling out of our mouths.  May those
words be accented with hope, joy and thanksgiving.  And may there be no zombie voices in our
congregations, especially during this precious time leading up to the joyful shouts of praise for our risen
Lord.

 

GPS and G-O-D                                       

From the time I was little, I have understood that God creates each and every one of us to possess
certain gifts. As I have grown, from time to time, I have stumbled upon some of the ways He has
generously blessed me. 

Maturity has also helped me become acutely aware of some of the gifts I wasn't given at birth.  And one
of the gifts I was definitely not given on my birth-day, was a good sense of direction.

My mom once noted that if you spun me around a few times, I might not be able to find my way out
of my house.

Okay, mom, that might be exaggerating a bit --- but I have to confess I do get lost more than the a
verage driver.

As a matter of fact, I don't even think of it as getting lost anymore.  I simply consider it taking a detour. 

My kids know this about me.  At any point in our traveling, if I happen to turn into a gas station,
restaurant or convenience store, someone from the back seat inevitably asks, "Are we lost, again?"

And so it was a natural that this year for Christmas, someone who knew me well got me a Global
Positioning System --- otherwise known as a GPS for my car.  It is one of those devises that tells
you where to go and the best way to get there.

Truth be told, it is amazing I didn't get a few of these from loving family members. 

I have to admit, I love having this device in my van.  I have even named the female voice that guides me,
 Vanessa.  Vanessa gently tells me turn by turn where to go, giving me plenty of notice, nudging me along
the journey. 

For example, the other day, I had to pick my husband up at the airport.  Now, I have been to the airport
 several times.  I have even driven to the airport quite a few of those times.  Still, I thought I should take
Vanessa along for the ride as a bit of a security blanket.  Vanessa and I were going along just fine, when
I moved the GPS slightly.  I then passed my 75 South exit I had thought I would need.  But I trusted Vanessa who remained speechless, and I drove on. 

Soon however, this girl with no sense of direction suspected something was wrong.  I looked at my GPS
and realized when I had adjusted it a few minutes earlier, I had inadvertently  hit the mute button. 
Vanessa had been trying to tell me all along where to go, but I was not able to hear through my own
fault.  As soon as she was able, she gently guided me once again back on track, and I finally made it to
the airport.

Of course, that car ride made me stop and think:

Don't you suppose God wants to be the main GPS of our lives?

When we let him, He gently and perfectly guides us, turn by turn, telling us where to go. But too often,
through our own fault, we do something that keeps us from hearing Him.  Through our stubbornness,
and sometimes through our ignorance, we mute the voice of God within us.  But as soon as we are,
indeed, willing to listen again, He calmly welcomes us back, turns us around, and helps us find our way
to where we need to go.   

Indeed, I have not been blessed with a good sense of direction.  But if we can all remember that the
best GPS in life is actually spelled G-O-D, perhaps at the end of this big journey, we will end up in the
right place after all. 

 

Mommy fish

The other day, my seven-year-old son discovered something fishy.  He learned a certain law of nature
and it upset him.

It all started out innocently enough.

We were watching a television show aimed at kids.  At one point in the show, it was discovered that
a mother fish had had baby fish.  There must have been thirty new little fish in the tank.

Then the show mentioned that they needed to separate the mother fish from the babies for the protection
 of the new little fish.

My son couldn’t wait for the televised explanation of this.

“Why do they have to take the babies away from the mommy?”  my second grader asked about this
seemingly unnatural action.

Calling upon my knowledge of aquatic life, which basically consists of the phrase, “One fish, two fish,
red fish, blue fish”, I managed to retrieve a piece of information from my ever-dwindling memory banks. 

“Sometimes a mommy fish, if left in the same tank with her babies, will actually eat them,” I explained.

While I was pleased with my explanation, my son looked aghast at the new- found knowledge,  “That’s
disgusting!”  he managed to comment.  “Why would the mommy kill her own babies?”  he demanded to
know.

Realizing I would have to go deeper than Dr. Seuss for this one, I took a deep breath and offered, “It’s
just something in nature that makes that happen.  I really can’t explain it.”  

The distressed look in his eyes told me my vague answer had not satiated his quest for nautical
knowledge.

He continued, “Do any other animals do that?”

 I stammered out another obscure answer, “I think some other fish eat their young… maybe some insects
….maybe some other animals…I’m not completely sure.”

Suddenly I wished I had taken better notes in Biology class.

“What about dogs?”  my seven year old investigator continued, glancing apprehensively at his own pet,
concerned for his safety.  I assured him that his puppy was safe.  I then made a blanket statement
saying that the larger animals usually take care of their babies, not kill them. 

But that was not enough.  We then had to go through a list of all the animals in the zoo, as I assured
him that motherly love was not an endangered species.

 “What about people?”  came the inevitable question.

I finally promised him then that the natural instinct of human mommies is to love their babies, care for
them, feed them, and tickle them.   As I said that last part, I began to tickle my seven-year-old to get
him to smile again after such serious talk.

When the giggles had subsided, I turned the channel.

Unfortunately, what was on the next channel was the scariest nature show of all.  It was the news.

The lead story was about the abortion pill RU-486 and its use in the United States.

“What does that mean?”  my curious son asked immediately.

Remembering the promise I had just made on behalf of the law of human nature, I swiftly changed
both the subject and the channel.

I knew, without a doubt, that announcement would simply be too bitter a pill to swallow.


Brian vs. Olivia? 

I was trying to pray with Brian Patrick --- but Olivia Newton John kept butting in.

On my way to teach at Colerain High School each day, I look forward to the prayer
that Brian prays on the hour on the SonRise morning show.  But as we know too well,
 sometimes before the sun ---s-u-n ---actually rises--- the good news on the airwaves of
Sacred Heart radio gets mixed with the oldies from a Canadian station. 

And so it was on this morning as I turned to get on the freeway, Brian and the Our
Father were overtaken by Olivia Newton John singing "Let Me Be There".

Not wanting to miss out on this last dose of spirituality before I hit the less than
spiritual clientele of my classroom, I strained to hear Brian over Olivia.  But that was
not going to happen right then.

I began to feel the frustration rise within me.  All I was seeking was a bit of inspiration
 to start my day --- wouldnt God support such an admirable desire and allow it to
happen?  Still Olivia crooned interference over the Lords prayer.

Then it hit me.

Juxtaposed against one of our oldest prayers, the love song on the radio took on an
entirely different quality.

"Give us this day our daily bread," I could faintly hear Brian in the background reciting.

"Let me be there in your morning.  Let me be there in your night," blasted Ms.
Newton John. 

Something about the two together made me stop to think. Could that song actually
be my spirituality to start this day?  What if I looked at it as what Jesus wanted to
ask me right then?  Let me be there in your morning , let me be there in  your night. 
The song continued making it only better:

"Let me change whatevers wrong and make it right,"

Well, that certainly sounds like Jesus, doesn't it?  He wants to take whatever is wrong
in our lives and in our hearts --- He desires to do just that ---He wants to make
whatevers wrong, right.

The next line was about a great wonderland that we could share as it ended with:

"All I ask you....is let me be there."

As I pulled into Colerain High School that day, I had tears in my eyes. The reception
of Sacred Heart radio had come back on and I could now clearly hear Brian ending
his spiritual moment just as I was ending mine. 

And I felt such peace, reflecting on my perceived request from the Lord.

Isn't that just like God: taking a moment of bad reception and frustration and turning
it into a gift of reassurance --- an actual invitation to let Him into our lives? I had to
stop and wonder---how many other times in life has He done that for me but I was
too caught up in focusing on the irritation of what was wrong with the moment, that
I didn't see the gift of what was so beautifully right that He was offering me instead? 

All I ask you is let me be there. 
Isn't that the basic beauty of his request for each of us every precious day? 

Let Him be there.

Through good times or bad, he wants to be with us. 

And we can count on that because His is one reception that will never ever fade away. 

 

Dance 

Last week, I watched a little girl learning to dance the way so many little girls have learned to dance ---
stepping on her daddy's feet, going wherever his feet led her.  At first it was hard ---she fell off more
times than I could count.  She began to grow discouraged. But her daddy was patient.   He wanted his
little girl to dance ---and he knew she couldn't do it on her own.  Soon, she began to learn from his
movement.  She began to anticipate his steps.  Each action led to a giggle and then to another new step.  Soon it became more natural.  Before long, without knowing exactly when it happened, they were actually dancing.

And it was so right.                          

As one dance step leads to another, that one thought led me to another thought: 

Our Father wants us to dance.

How is it when we grow, we lose the natural rhythm of life we were born with?  We suppress the
childlike joy that literally led us to jump up and down in the wildest, most wonderful way.  We cover
 this suppressed desire with the label of "grown-up".  And soon we couldn't dance with that joy if our
lives depended on it.  And perhaps our lives really do depend on it.

Yet we've forgotten how.

But our Father wants us to dance.

Life is too short to sit still without rhythmic joy pulsating through our bodies. 

Some lucky ones seem to have never really forgotten.  They are dancing the dance that brings joy to
their life and life to their joy. 

But others are not as natural. 

Here's the greatest part, though:  Our Father wants to teach us to dance with this joy again.

So climb on His feet, following where He leads. 

It might be awkward at first.  You might even fall off more times than you can count.

But don't get discouraged.  Your Father is patient.

He wants you to dance. He knows you can't do it on your own. 

And soon, without knowing exactly when it happened, you will realize that you are going where He is
 leading---in His very footsteps.  It will be joy-filled and wonderful.

Because you will be dancing the dance your Father planned for you to dance.  

And it will be so right.

Your Father wants you to dance.

New Year's Celebration

While celebrating the tradition of Exchange Day, otherwise known as the
day after Christmas, at a local mall, I happened upon a display of beautiful
 garments intended to be worn for the ringing in of the new year.  There
were silver and gold sequined dresses with diamond studded spaghetti
straps, complete with fur lined velvet capes.  And as I stood gawking at
the evening wear in front of me, I had but one single thought: "What on
earth are these people thinking?"

Does anyone know anyone who actually goes somewhere on New Year's
Eve, garnering them the opportunity to ever wear an evening gown --- 
with or without sequins?

My guess is, most of us spent the dawn of the new year like we spend
most of our evenings: with our kids.  Now, maybe this is because the
going rate for a sitter for this major holiday event, would supposedly
necessitate our having to take out a second mortgage.  But I suspect it
is more likely because that is where we choose to be.

Personally, my family and I celebrated the new year at a party at a
friend's house.  Don't  get me wrong though .  I am not saying there
wasn't a lot of the traditional  New Year's  glitz going on.  You want
Holiday Hoopla?  How about this? 

Glitter.  Yes, there was lots of glitter.  No, most of it did not come from
sequins on the dresses of the women there.  Most of the glitter came
from tubes from the kids crafts that were going on in the basement.  So,
 technically, our night was filled with glitter.  And, yes, some of it even
ended up on our clothes as well.

Drinking.  There was much drinking, too.  The juice was absolutely flowing.
Some was red.  Some was white.  Most of it was in a container called a
juice box.

Dancing.  Yes, there was dancing at the New Year's Eve celebration, too. 
Most of it involved my kids dancing outside of the bathroom, while having
to wait their turn to go.  This would have to have been a direct result of
the free-flowing juice mentioned before.

Fine dining.  All of us parents in attendance would agree that it was,
indeed, a fine dining experience, since nothing was stained in the hostess
 house the entire night.  Actually each of us parents would think it was a
fine dining experience even if something were stained or spilled, as long
as it is not our child who stained or spilled it.     

Romance.   Yes, when the stroke of midnight rolled around and  I was
ready to greet the new year held tightly in the arms of my husband, there
was also a child or two in our arms as well.  And the first kisses I received
in the new year left chocolate stains on my cheek.  But somehow, the
whole thing left me with a feeling that the night was indeed a success.

For, a new year dawning definitely teaches me something and it has
nothing to do with what shoes to wear with a fur lined velvet cape. 
No, another new year simply reminds me that the years are flying by
a
little too quickly.  There should be many years ahead that could offer the
opportunity for wining, dining and dancing.

But for now, we choose to embrace the sweetness of the simple
things. 

Like glitter from a tube and juice from a box.

And a chocolate kiss at midnight.

    

Only One Christmas                               

Someone once stated, "There has been only one Christmas---the rest are
anniversaries."

For me that truly highlights the impact of the day---the realness of that
day.  One Christmas---so long ago.  Sometimes during this season, we
get so caught up in the hustle and bustle we forget that Christmas was
an actual day so many years ago.  We forget to completely look at what
happened that day. 

I have to confess when I was little and would think of that special day in
Bethlehem so very long ago---I would only think of baby Jesus.

"Away in a manger, no crib for a bed."

 For me it was a day about a special child coming into the world.  It was
Jesus's birthday.  And that thought carried with it the excitement of
celebration and presents that became symbols of the Christmas spirit
for me in my youth. 

Through the years, other symbols have played a part in my Yuletide
memories as well.  Angels, Wise Men, the star of Bethlehem..

"Hark the herolds, angels sing.  Glory to the newborn king."

 "We three kings of Orient are bearing gifts we travel so far."

 "Star of wonder, star of light, star with royal beauty bright.."

 This year, though, something specific has gotten my attention.  Yes,
I am still celebrating the birthday of Jesus.  And yes, the angels, Wise Men
 and Bethlehem star are still prominent in my Christmas carols as well as
my Nativity scene.  But lately, I have begun to wonder about another
person there that night---so long ago.  I have begun to wonder about
Mary---and all she was called to go through.  What could have possibly
been going through her head?  Yes, she was trusting and good and holy. 
But she was so young.  How did she do it?

I remember being so anxious when my first child was born---so very
frightened of the unknown.   And I was in a hospital!  I was surrounded by
 the latest and greatest inventions and machines that were standing by
ready to fulfill my every need.  And yet, still, I was scared.  How did our
Blessed Mother manage to deliver a baby---the son of God---in what
basically was a cave? 

And after the miraculous birth, what did she think?  What was Mary's
immediate thought when she held Jesus in her arms for the first time? 
When I first held my baby in my trembling arms, I remember thinking
that baby was the most magnificent child in the world.  That baby was
more than special to me.  How much more intense was that feeling for
Mother Mary?  Could she possibly have fully known what she was really
holding in her arms?  Was she at all thinking about the angels, the stars,
the Magi?  Or was she simply a mother holding and loving her newborn
babycounting fingers, counting toes?  When I think of the intense love
 and emotion that must have been there that night, I wish I, too, could
have been there.  I wish I could have helped Mary somehow.  I wish I
could have helped bring Jesus into this world.

But then I realize that is just what we are all being given the chance to
do today---bring Jesus into this world.  Furthermore, that is what we are
all being called to do this month and the next and the next

To truly remember that one Christmas so very long ago when a baby was
born.

Happy Anniversary, everyone.

Christmas Countdown

No sooner have we passed the potatoes across our Thanksgiving tables,
than we can be found clipping coupons that allow us an extra 20% off an
item ---any item ---if we get to a certain store before the break of dawn
 the very next day.  And we, as full-fledged competitive consumers, take
the bait, set the alarm and prepare to awake the next day to fulfill our
destinies.  And shop.

Now, I have been spotted in the mall before on the day after Thanksgiving,
but never at the crack of dawn, standing beside 200 of my new-found frozen
 friends, each of us waiting to knock the other down for a chance at a the
latest version of Elmo. 

I understand that the number of shopping days before Christmas has
officially begun.  And I understand that the National Retail Federation
is excitedly pronouncing that this Christmas season should bring in one
of the best gains ever, with sales expected to be upwards of $439.5 billion.
  But I cant understand consumers allowing their holidays to be consumed
by the retail industry. 

I started to think of all this while I was, indeed, in line the day after
Thanksgiving.  After battling traffic lights that were not working in the
shopping area, and computers that had gone off-line in one of the stores,
causing waits to check-out to not just move slowly, but to not move at all,
 the shoppers began to grow restless.  I practiced relaxation breathing and
tried to remember to smile when my turn to check-out came forty-five
minutes later.  And I also tried to remember to smile when I had to
return to one store after I got home that day when I realized one of my
purchases was not in my bag. 

But not everyone was smiling that day; or even trying to.  The Christmas
carols were happily playing, and the Christmas sweatshirts were
proclaiming joy once again.  But few people actually looked happy. 
And that bothered me.

Later that night, seeking the sanctuary of internet shopping, I was
looking for more gifting ideas on e-bay, when my youngest came into
the room.   "When can I start my shopping, Mommy?" he asked, obviously
buying into the pre-holiday frenzy. 

"I promise you have time," I assured him.

"But I need to go today," insisted the ten-year old consumer.  "and I dont
know what to get anyone. I dont know what to get even you."  Then,
studying me for a moment, he continued with a question he already knew
the answer to, "Do you like...um...cross necklaces?"

"I love cross necklaces," I answered, as I continued on with my e-bay
search for the perfect present. 

"Can I get on e-bay when you're done?" he persisted.

No sooner had I surrendered the computer to him than he began typing
 in his own e-bay search stopping only to ask, "How do you spell 'cross'?"

"You know how to spell it" I answered. 

"C-R-O-S-S?"

"Exactly," I assured him, as he typed away.

And that's when it hit me.  All the hustle and bustle to buy the best
presents at the cheapest price and to be done with it all first ---is not
all bad.  But somewhere along the line, all of us who wear the Christmas
sweaters, sing the Christmas songs, and yes, buy the Christmas presents,
 need to stop long enough to remember what its really all about. 

And for heaven's sake, smile.

Maybe we just need to stop long enough to ask ourselves the simple,
yet profound question, "How do I spell cross?"

 

 

Thanksgiving

            "If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other."

I couldn't help but to think of those words of Mother Teresa last week as I was hanging my flag for Veterans Day.    

And I couldn't help but to think of the sea of red, white and blue we have witnessed since the war began.  Never in my life have I seen such a display of patriotism.  Never has there been so much American pride.  Never have I seen so many signs proclaiming, "God bless America".

And that is good.  I love the thought---but I have to wonder, "Why stop there?" At a time when there is unrest in so many parts of the world both far and near to home---shouldnt we be praying for God's blessing on the whole world?  The great Spanish cellist, Pablo Casals, said this best when he observed, "The love of country is a splendid thing---but why should love stop at the border?"

Maybe Mother Teresa was right---we have simply forgotten that we belong to each other. 

We could learn so much from our little ones about this. 

Have you ever noticed very small children playing on a playground?  When two children who have never before met first arrive at a play area, there seem to be borders around them.  Each is hesitant to join in and play with the child they dont know.  But they watch each other---sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly.  And invariably, what happens is before too long, the two children who have never seen each

other before break through those borders and slowly gravitate together.  They will share a smile, a giggle, and then, perhaps even a toy.

How does this happen? 
Perhaps children have a natural understanding that we all belong to each other.

But, being the adults, we soon teach our children to fight this natural urge.  And this too, is done in both subtle ways as well as blatantly.  Strangers are bad.  People are different.   And if people are different from us, how could we possibly trust them, let alone love them?

At the beginning of the war,  as I hung my flag on the flagpole , I was praying prayers for peace on earth.  But my thoughts and prayers were centered on a far away land where there was unrest.  I could not even envision the human form hatred had taken. 

But this week, as I hang my flag on my flagpole, I reflect on the headlines that have been splashed across our newspapers over these last years.  Headlines that tell us sad stories of our world, our city, even our Church.  Perhaps such a lack of love is not as foreign as we would like to think. 

And today as we prepare for a day of Thanksgiving, as my flag billows in the breeze,  I again pray for peace on earth.  But this time it is not a faceless earth that I pray for.  It is an earth made up of the rainbow of faces of God's children.  And I pray that each of us may rediscover that pure heart of a child that we may have come to deny.

Maybe then we will once again remember that we belong to each other.

The Rock      

It has been said that you can learn a lot about someone by going through his trash and seeing what he has chosen to throw away.   I hold to the belief that the opposite is also true.  I think you can learn much about someone by seeing what he believes is important enough to save.

Of course, in my case, that would be just about everything.  Yes, I am a packrat.

I had to confront this reality the other day when a sock drawer in my bedroom would not close.  It was then I realized that drawer contained everything, but socks.

And so, in my orderly way of cleaning, I dumped all the contents of that drawer on the floor.  I was amazed at what the drawer had held.  Thus began my unexpected trip down memory lane. 

Some of my drawer discoveries were sweet.  I found little notes each of my kids had written displaying various stages of their penmanship.  I discovered photos, long believed lost.  I even found a few baby teeth that the tooth fairy must have dropped in my drawer on her way out the window.

Some findings were simply ridiculous.  There were tags off old outfits, receipts from groceries purchased four years earlier, and stale sticks of gum.

Still, some discoveries reminded me I was getting older.  I actually found a crumpled piece of paper with an au