Good-bye, My Brother

We awoke to frost on the fields on September 14, 2013, and a chilly 34 degrees (that's Fahrenheit), which was a bit of a shock after temps topping the 90s just a few days earlier.

My brother had passed away the afternoon before, on September 13. It was a rather sudden death and the reality of it was only beginning to sink in, so life was moving in slow motion for me on the following morning, despite the fact that I rose early. The world seemed changed in many ways, and yet remained so constant and sure.

On that morning, I peered into the slowly rising mist that obscured the distant landscapes, and I thought I may have just caught a glimmer of him there, peering back at me. Such a thin veil separates us. 

The low light of the early rising sun turned the dewy field grasses at my feet into shimmery chandeliers. There was no breeze.  A lone sand crane flew overhead and disappeared into the distant sky. I stood in that quiet space and just stared… those small lights at my feet, reminding me that His word is a lamp to my feet, a light to be trusted. 

And then surprisingly quickly, the mist rose up and was gone, and it was just blue skies.

We, all of us, cope and grieve in various ways. That morning, and those fields spoke to me. I am so blessed to live where the play of weather in nature can speak, and I can hear so many lessons there, and find comfort in that quiet space. I take photos to remind me of the very goodness that surrounds me. My God lovingly speaks to me in language I understand.  He uses so many ways to reveal Himself to me...  not always the same ways, but always the same loving God.

This morning, on September 14, 2013, He was speaking clearly and my grieving heart was comforted just a little. 

We live, we love, we pass on. Our Faith sustains us.

May it be well with you today.

Broken Home

At Mass this past Sunday we heard someone share about a good deed done for some children who came from "broken homes". While the remainder of the message about sharing and doing good to others without expecting to receive thanks in return may have had its merits, I was personally distracted by the expression "broken home". I leaned over to my beautiful grown daughter and whispered, "That's probably not a good term to use in church." She replied, "But what other term is there?" I said, "By his reckoning, you are from a broken home." Hmm. I'm not sure she had thought of it that way. I suggested, "Divorced, impoverished, underprivileged?" How about just describing the particular needs of the ones being helped? To me, the term was the equivalent of the 1950s term "crippled". Let's not condemn people to being broken forever.

While it's true, my beautiful children had the misfortune to be born to a father and mother who became divorced, I hardly thought of our family as broken. But it seems many others did, and perhaps still do. I will likely go to my grave defending the choices I've made as a well intentioned but imperfect mother. It's a difficult job and it seems despite my resolve, I was less than terrific. But it was not made easier by those who saw us as broken. We had different challenges, to be sure. But I never thought of my children as from a broken home. Their dad and I still loved them, still cared for them. My children still had many benefits, including a safe environment to live, opportunities for education, and extended family that cared about them. We celebrated birthdays and holidays, sang and read books in our home. There was heat in the winter and chances to cool off in the summer. We had winter coats and mittens and beds to sleep in. There were friends and events we shared with others. There was laughter and there were tears. There were vacations. There was love in our home.

So what do we mean when we say a home is broken?

Sometimes divorce is not the breaking of something. Sometimes it is the fixing of something. I would never call it an easy fix. Never, ever. But please, isn't there another term you could use that wouldn't label so many people as broken? Some term that wouldn't sting us again and again. Really.

Rend Your Hearts, Not Your Garments, and Return to Me

Ash Wednesday marks the beginning of Lent today, Feb 17, 2010.

This is a flower pic, taken a couple years ago, which I've converted to this black and white image. Just as I have stripped away the color from this image, during this season of Lent, we now strip away ourselves to find more of the genuine, and less of the facades. We quiet those external noises that drown out the voice of our Creator. We gladly make sacrifices because we find our truer selves in so doing. And we turn our hearts toward God and others. This is the way we were meant to be. This is how we were designed.

We are not perfect, but there is beauty in our imperfection. We are not whole, but He can make up what is lacking.

Like the tulip above, we are open, and ready.

"Here I am, Lord. Your servant is listening."

As I woke today, I thought of St. Paul. He had many reasons to feel secure in his relationship with God. Born a Jew, circumcised on the eighth day, years of zealous (overzealous?) service within his tradition... But his worldly standing did not grant him access to the One he desired. All that effort to be good and holy... fell short. Paul tells us that knowing Jesus was worth more than all of his public position and standing. Paul's relationship with Jesus was the thing he valued most. St. Paul is a credible witness. Knowing all that he knows, he tells the Philippians (3:8-10), "I have suffered the loss of all things, and count them as refuse, in order that I may gain Christ...being found in him, not having a righteousness of my own, based on law, but that which is through faith in Christ...that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that if possible, I may attain the resurrection form the dead."

We fast during Lent because it gives us great joy to be joined with Jesus in his own selflessness. While it may cause us temporary pain or difficulty, our eyes are looking toward the prize, the goal. That is, we are looking toward Jesus, himself. Our faith sustains us when He seems quiet. This is why, as Catholics, we are pleased to embrace small (or great) sufferings for we know that they are good teachers. We are not afraid of hardship. Our sacrifices teach us to be patient, and to wait in faith.

One more thing about St. Paul is that he leaves the outcome of his soul with Jesus. "...that if possible, I may attain the resurrection from the dead." He doesn't boast that it is his. If he boasts at all, he boasts only in his trust, in his relationship, in his faith in Jesus.

So many times it is difficult to trust. When He seems quiet, or we feel distant. That is when we must call on the virtue of patience, and rely on His timing. God is not a genie to be called forth from some shiny lamp. He is God. We must be his patient servants.

God bless any of you who stop to read these words. Those of you who observe Lent and those of you who do not. We are all His creatures.

Refrigerator Door

The photo above of my refrigerator was taken on February 12, 2006. My children were all born in the 1980s, so even in 2006 you can see that these pictures were a bit outdated. In fact, at the time, my kids were all out of high school. But a mother's heart can be slow to let go of the early years when her children hung close and she could open their minds and hearts to the world around them and still bask in their affection! Those years were good years for us. Life was simple. Tasks were clear. I thought I had it all figured out, and everything would be just fine if I did my part.

Somewhere along the way, our perspectives grew and our insights grew with them. Life seemed more complex and the answers not always so simple.

Now, I look back on these years and think, life is actually quite simple indeed. Love those you're given and never stop loving them. Everything else is gravy. Everything, everything is grace.

My Daughters' Weddings

Being a mother has been full of wonderful surprises and so much growth. I've learned so much about so much. I have 3 terrific children, all very different, all very loved.

In the past six months, two of my three children have married. My oldest daughter, Ann, married in October 2008, and my youngest daughter, Beth, in April 2009. It's a momentous thing for them and for this mother, whose heart was full of emotion. I was honored that I was asked, along with their father, to make a toast, to share a bit about them. Here, then, are the toasts I made:

First, for my daughter, Ann, and her new husband:

So many of us have traveled a good distance to be here today. I know how much it means to Ann and Gabriel, and it means a lot to me that you are here. Thank you so much.

Ann was my first child, my first daughter. From the get go she was a very inquisitive child and into everything. And she was very creative. She looked at things as they were but saw other possibilities. She is an innovative thinker, who often simultaneously displays enormous independence and a childlike need for connection. I love her fiercely.

That said, Gabriel, I feel you should know that as a little girl, Ann liked to make murals with crayons, and drew on walls and doors a lot! But being creative, she was able to improvise when crayons weren’t available. She spent one short nap time coloring with her cherry flavored chapstick on her bedroom screens, and filled in all the outlet screws, and another naptime shampooing her baby brother’s head with Vaseline. You’ll want to keep a scrub brush handy, and, well, for the Vaseline, I’m not sure what advice to give you.

She can be disorganized at times, and extremely organized at others. Take a look around you to see how well she can organize an event! But in high school and college she was notorious for leaving the home to go somewhere only to return minutes later for something she forgot, which earned her my favorite nickname: “Ann-who-leaves-twice”.

When Ann first met Gabriel, she called me to tell me about this really great guy who was smart, and handsome and driven. Living so far away as she did in D.C., I didn’t have a chance to meet him as soon as I would have liked. I was, however, in the peculiar situation of being able to see him on a reality TV show, Rebel Billionaire. Not given to watching TV on that night, you can be certain that I missed no episodes, hoping to get some insight into this young man to whom my daughter had taken a fancy. So if the challenges of the TV show were as effortless for Gabriel as they appeared, he was also being evaluated by Ann’s family long distance-style, which could have been more formidable. (You may be interested to know that Gabriel is listed in Wikipedia for this distinction.) Gabriel seemed cool and calm and level headed, on the show, and it hardly did him justice. When he visited our family at Christmas 2006, he was warm and kind and bright. After that, I only cared that Ann truly loved him. And love him she does!

This toast is to Ann and Gabriel. May the vows you spoke today guide you in the future. May you have many years together and many children, and may you love them even half as much as I have loved mine. As I love you!

photo by Tamara Lackey

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For my daughter, Beth, and her new husband:

We’re delighted to see so many here today to celebrate with Beth and Kevin. Clearly, they have a wonderful network of friends and family to support them as they begin their life as a married couple! Your presence here is not unimportant, for a network of friends and family is what we all need.

Beth and Kevin were initially friends at St. Thomas, where they were involved in some of the same ministries and worked side by side to encourage other college-aged adults to understand and grow in their Catholic faith. Their romance did not come until they had established a sound friendship. What a great formula for success!

There are some things Kevin should know about his new bride:
Beth is my youngest daughter, and will always be my baby. But she was never a shrinking violet, never overshadowed by her older brother and sister. And that is saying a lot, because they are all outgoing, all active, all creative! But inside, she is a sensitive creature who may cry at sad movies, the bleat of a baby goat, and those little disappointments that we experience each day. She is to be handled with care.

Beth has God-given qualities that her father and I had nothing to do with. She was born strong-willed and secure in herself. She was born confident and brave and undaunted by adventure. She was born with an aptitude for science and math. And she was born with a tremendous wit. While we exposed her to our values, she adopted and made her faith her own. She has learned to be giving and kind and to put others before herself. These attributes guided her when she left for Turkey to do evangelism the summer before her senior year in college, and later to spend 9 months in Calcutta, India working with the Sisters of Charity, the order Mother Theresa founded, in an orphanage with needy children. Beth does not shrink from a challenge, and when she makes a decision, she is not easily dissuaded.

I knew early on she would be a handful. She was intent on keeping up with her older siblings and consequently learned to climb out of her crib when she had only just learned to stand. She walked when she was 10 months old. She read people well and would play tricks on us just to tease us. I still remember her standing at the top of the stairs when she could barely walk and she jumped up and down, looking at me to see my reaction. As a little girl, her confidence and bravery sometimes pushed her older siblings to meet their goals. She would have been the first to jump off the high dive, but her resolve was just enough to give the last bit of needed courage to her siblings to jump just before her! She was unafraid of almost anything. The three together made a great team. Ann would mastermind a plan, and knew how to use a phone. Greg was strong and ready for anything that sounded fun or required a masculine effort. But Beth was the one they would send downstairs to investigate a scary noise. They were the three Musketeers, into everything and making everything fun.

We spend a lot of time when they are young teaching our children everything from how to button a shirt, how to think for themselves, and how to treat others. And along the way they teach us over and over again about who we are and how we can be better individuals. I believe we are in this journey together, that these souls, who were entrusted to us, are also meant to lead us at times. There is no accident that I have been graced with the children I have. It is all part of His perfect plan.

As a mother, the most basic thing I want for my children is that they be happy. But the secret to happiness is knowing where to find it. It’s not in the things we acquire, or the accolades of others, although those are nice. It’s not in external appearances or in doing everything right, for we will certainly make many mistakes and fail often. We find happiness in our humble connections with others. Successful people know that happiness comes when we put others first.

We are here today to celebrate love. Kevin’s love for Beth, and Beth’s love for Kevin. Central to this, is the Father’s love for each of us. Our love is imperfect and the fact that we get it right sometimes is a miracle of a certain kind. But when we fail each other, and forgive each other, as husbands and wives must do daily, it illustrates how deeply we are loved. All by the grace of God, whether acknowledged or not.

We've heard a lot today about Polish traditions. We are Irish, and in honor of our ancestry, an Irish toast:

Please raise your glasses and your hearts:
May you always have work for your hands to do.

May your pockets hold always a coin or two.

May the sun shine bright on your windowpane.

May the rainbow be certain to follow each rain.

May the hand of a friend always be near you.

And may God fill your heart with gladness to cheer you.

Missing You

I miss you. I don't understand myself sometimes, and I think that you would. You might be able to shed light on why I feel sad, why I feel lonely. There is a hole where you once were, where I felt known. Who knew it would still be there 33 years later? But here it is. At times I feel so needy, which isn't like me because I really am quite independent. But I always come back to you, to needing you. And then I feel badly that I didn't have more time, and that I didn't know what it must have been like for you. Now I can understand a little better, but then?... then I was still full of my own thoughts and while I thought I understood, I probably didn't understand at all. I'm sorry that I wasn't more help to you. I'm sorry that I was so wrapped up in my own life and friends and that I probably didn't say the things you wanted to hear from me at the time. I know I wish I could talk to you now. I wish I could hear you speak to me, and I wonder what you would say. I really wish I could have known what you think of me. I guess it's a good thing that I paid attention to how you did things. I probably didn't know why you did them, but at least I know some of the things you thought were important to do. Can you send me a little "hello" from somewhere, if you get a chance? Could you pop me a little post card to let me know that you're ok? That I'm ok?

It's cold outside, and dark because it's December. I miss you in December. You did a good job of making December a great time of year. I don't do nearly as well as you at making things special. In fact, I sometimes find it hard to move at all at this time of year. You'd think that because you set a good example for me, I'd be able to throw myself into this time of year with zeal. It's harder than you might think. But I don't want to make excuses. I don't know if a bowl of pine cones on the mantle would make my kids feel any better, but somehow it made me feel good when I was young.

Well, I have work to do here. But I miss you and really wish I could have talked to you today. I wonder sometimes if you ever felt like this. I suspect you must have, but you seemed to do ok.

Remember how I used to like to take pictures when I was young and dad would take my film to the store to be developed?? Well, I take pictures, now, too. These digital cameras are great! Anyway, this is a picture of an icy Queen Anne's Lace bloom. There's a field behind our home and I took this on a really cold day last winter. It sort of captures how I feel today. Maybe you know what I mean.

Thinking of you...

Happy Anniversary!

Today is our anniversary. Five years, plus the several that we knew each other beforehand. It's nice to be known; it's nice to be loved. It's nice to feel stability and peace in your relationship. It isn't like a romance novel, but it is often better; and deeper. It's nice to have someone at your side, even when you are not at your best. We help each other; he encourages me. We broaden each other's horizons. He is a good man. I am so thankful.

The picture is from Hawaii, where we spent a vacation.