Of Chuck Taylor and a Can of Worms

I woke up in the middle of the night on Friday thinking..."where are those Chuck Taylors?" You see, when Noah was little, I bought him a pair of vintage Chucks on Ebay. It was my attempt at being mathcy-matchy with my kid...when your mom/son...sneakers are as matchy-matchy as you can get. Noah didn't like the way they felt. When they fit Peter, HE didn't like the way they felt. Hoping they would last, I packed them away knowing 8 years down the road they'd fit somebody.

Saturday morning, poured a cup of coffee, and set off to find them...somewhere...in the attic. I opened the door, and immediately wanted to shut it and pretend that I didn't see that huge mess. As luck would have it, I immediately saw a box labeled "boys size 7 pants, size large dress shirts, size 1 boots, size medium sweatshirts, and...CHUCK TAYLORS SIZE 1. Evidently, THAT box was packed in one of those OCD moments, which are rare...oh, shut up...yes they are! Anyway it was taped up like Fort Knox, I got it open, grabbed the chucks and searched for Oliver like the he was Cinderella or something. Please God...let him "like" the way they feel, I prayed. You see, Steven and I both love Chucks (we're both in need of new ones) and if we don't have at least ONE kid that loves them too...well, theirs always adoption!

HE LIKES THEM...HE LIKES THEM...HEY MIKEY!!!!
Um....now we have to teach him how to tie his shoes, because in this world of velcro and slip-ons, I'm afraid we've neglected to do that.




Back to the attic to re-stack the boxes, and despite every instinct to turn and walk away from the mess...I couldn't. Darn...cleaning the attic was NOT on my list of things to do, but I just couldn't help myself.

Before I tell you what I found, let me tell you that I had just...and I mean JUST told Steven that Oliver needed 2 more pair of school pants (trying to make it through a week with 3 wasn't happening), and at least 1 more pair of play pants. Linus needed all new winter clothes, underwear, and PJ's.

Fast-forward 3 hours later, I had found an entire winter wardrobe for Linus, and a whole other box of spring/summer for next year. 10 pair of Linus-size underwear, more PJ's than I can fit in his drawer including 6 footed sleepers. That's gold to me...I hate bying PJ's...it PAINS me to spend money on PJ's. Then...get this...I found 2 pairs of Oliver-sized khaki pants, and a nice pair of Hannah Andersson play pants.

I also managed to fill 2 boxes with baby clothes for a friend, a huge bag of 3T stuff for another friend, put away and labeled all the heirloom/family/handmade things that I'm saving for, ahem, grandchildren...not that I'm old enough or anything, but it doesn't hurt to plan, and 2 bags of maternity clothes for Goodwill. All of this because I wanted to find a pair of shoes! See how God works? He knew that attic needed to be cleaned...he knew my kids needed clothes...now several people get to benefit from the little middle-of-the-night obesession about finding those sneakers.

Now...about the bathrooms that didn't get cleaned because I was putzing around in the attic all day....

Playing Catch-Up

Oh it's been a while...how many times have I said that? So much happening, so many changes, so many tests of faith...patience...the whole kit and kaboodle.

I've been doing some more sewing for my own kids. I'm determined to have them in more handmade this summer than store-bought. I started with these alien outfits. Took my board shorts pattern from last summer, and mixed it up a bit. Oliver designed the alien.





I made these pants last year, and was about to list them in the store when I noticed the back had a few splatters of something resembling yellow paint. The green linen is from a recycled table cloth, so it could be just about anything. Happily, I upcycled a tee with a few appliques, and now it's one of Linus' favorites.



Easter was spent in Rockford with family. We had 1 or 2 days of nice weather and took advantage of visiting our favorite park.









While in Rockford my cousin Eileen was diagnosed with colon cancer. She has since had surgery to remove the tumor and will soon start chemo for 6 months. As a wife and mother of 6, anything other than a complete, cancer-free recovery is not an option. Please keep her, and her family in your prayers. Her complete abandon to the will of God is a testament to the strength of her faith. I can't say that I would show the same strength. Anyway, all I can do (aside from pray) is offer to make some hats...so that's what I'm doing.



This one I made because my cousin Steffie, who's a CRNA asked me to make some scrub caps to wear in the OR. But not only is Eileen going to get a couple of these, but I think I may make some for myself. This one matches a skirt I just made for myself (needs tweaking so no pics yet), and the best part is that I can fit ALL of my hair in there. Looks a bit "rasta" too, doesn't it?




So as if all of that isn't enough...there's a move on the horizon. But that's a post for another day. Just pray that our house sells.

Thought Provoking Email

I receive lots of emails with moving stories, a prayer at the end, and then the command to sent to 100 people or God will think I don't love him. Hrumph! Anyway, I received an email today with a lovely story, that I've read before, and whether that story specifically is true or not, I do not know, and do not care. I'm sure that there are "Kevins" out there.

My own brother was born with his own set of challenges, but his life was no more or less valuable than any others.

Our pregnancies (especially when you're my age)are riddled with warnings, and we're berated with recommendations for testing to determine if our baby has any defects. If he or she is less than perfect (according to medical and societal standards), there is the obvious "out". Abort.

Now I can't pretend to know what it is like to think you're having a perfectly healthy baby, and find out that is not the case, be it at birth or during pregnancy. My heart aches for the women who know their babies are going to be born with a fatal defect and won't live more than a few hours, yet carry that baby lovingly as they would any other. Singing to her, talking to her waiting for the day she is born and only to have to give her right back to God. Certainly, they are a testament to true faith with utter abandon.

Those women, their families, their friends, are changed because of those few minutes with that baby, or the couple of years, or even a very long life with a Down's Syndrome child.

I digress...read the story below. EVERY person is beautiful, perfect, and serves a purpose. How long will it take for the world to realize that?


GOD LIVES UNDER THE BED

I envy Kevin. My brother, Kevin, thinks God lives under his bed. At least that's what I heard him say one night.

He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped to listen, 'Are you there, God?' he said. 'Where are you? Oh, I see. Under the bed...'

I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room. Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement. But that night something else lingered long after the humor. I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.

He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor. Apart from his size (he's 6-foot-2), there are few ways in which he is an adult.

He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7-year-old, and he always will. He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them.

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different. Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?

Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, return to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed.

The only variation in the entire scheme is laundry, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child.

He does not seem dissatisfied.

He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05, eager for a day of simple work.
He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.

And Saturdays - oh, the bliss of Saturdays! That's the day my Dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside. 'That one's goin' to Chi-car-go! ' Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.

His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.
And so goes his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.

He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.

His life is simple.

He will never know the entanglements of wealth of power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats. His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be.

His hands are diligent. Kevin is never so happy as when he is working. When he unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.

He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished. But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.

He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others. His heart is pure.

He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.

Free from pride and unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry. He is always transparent, always sincere. And he trusts God.

Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child. Kevin seems to know God - to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an 'educated' person to grasp. God seems like his closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.

It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions..

It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap. I am. My obligations, my fear, my pride, my circumstances - they all become disabilities when I do not trust them to God's care.

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn? After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of God.

And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed.

Kevin won't be surprised at all!

Big Families...The New "Green"

Found this wonderful article on the Trinity Acres blog and just had to share!
Thank you Mary Ellen Barrett for saying so beautifully what most have no understanding of. We only have 4, but if I'm out with all of them...I get "the look", and the occasional..."wow...4 boys?".

Very Important Prayer Request

This message came from a friend of mine in Rockford. Please pray for Christine, her family, and for baby Marita.

As many of you already know there have been some concerns over the
baby I am carrying--I am about 25 weeks along. 4 weeks ago I had an
ultrasound done that showed that the baby had only one functioning
kidney and had a 1 in 13 chance of Downs syndrome. Well, yesterday we
had another ultrasound done and it didn't look good. The kidney has
swollen and is blocked. This is causing the other organs to be pushed
out of place, the heart to work harder and the lungs will not be able
to fully develop. The doctor can go in and try to drain the kidney
but feels that it would just fill right back up and there is a high
danger of killing the baby if this procedure is done. By not doing
anything it is possible the baby will die in utero or be born with
serious medical complications and may not survive long. But also, by
not doing something it is possible the kidney swelling could go down.
The doctor just doesn't know--it is not possible to know what could/
will happen. Any prayers or sacrifices you could offer for the baby
and us--we named her Marita (Mary and St. Rita combined) would be
greatly appreciated. We are being scheduled for a second opinion from
another doctor soon. If you belong to other prayer chains and could
pass this intention along, that would be great. We are praying for a
miracle but more importantly the strength to accept God's will.
Christine

Christmas 2009

christmas morning 2009
Originally uploaded by sunshine0216

As Steven and I wrapped gifts on Christmas Eve we talked about how magical Christmas was for us as children. We shared stories about what our most memorable gifts and moments were.

I am always amazed when I think back to what my parents did. There were no signs (decorative-wise) of Christmas in our home before Christmas day. When we went to bed on Christmas Eve...my mom and dad got to work...all night long. They put up the tree and decorated it, put decorations around the house, wrapped gifts, putting together bicycles and other toys that needed assembly. It's just remarkable to think about it. I can remember the absolute awe I felt on Christmas morning, walking into the living room and seeing the tree, the lights, and the gifts.

As amazing as it was, I couldn't imagine doing that myself. It took everything I had to stay up and wrap gifts until 11:30 or so.

On Christmas Eve we went to visit Steven's grandmother who is in a convalescent home recovering from surgery and awaiting another one. We stayed for about an hour, and to my delight, the children were very well behaved. It helped that she has a roommate that's a pistol, and just gushed over Linus. Of course, it didn't hurt that Grandpa had homemade cookies for them.



The rest of the day I spent in the kitchen preparing Christmas Eve dinner, and a cake to take to my mother in laws on Christmas. I was attempting to roast a cut of meat I had never worked with before, and failed miserably. It was tough and dry...uck! It was the first time I cooked something that couldn't be hidden or masked some way with a sauce or great side dishes...it was just a compelte wash.

After dinner I decided to whip up a batch of bannana muffins for the morning. Realizing I had no eggs left, I sent Steven out. While he was doing that, and the kids were occupied with Grandpa, I took the opportunity to start packing for the weekend at my in-laws. Steven returned with the eggs and I continued my muffins, but heard a strange dripping noise behind me.
Aside...I have to say here that half of our ceiling in the kitchen is missing from a bathroom re-do 2 years ago, so there are exposed pipes etc.
Turning around, I discovered water dripping into the kitchen from the bathroom above. Linus, I thought....where's Linus?

Well, Linus had taken all 10 rolls of toilet paper and shoved them in the toilet. All the flushing was creating a waterfall effect, and he was really enjoying it. Ugh! What a mess...and no toilet paper left to boot!

Christmas morning the angels were working overtime, because the children were all relatively good at Mass. Linus only asked to nurse once (I think he's finally getting that we won't be nursing in church anymore :o ), and there was no yelling "Jesus is coming" during the consecration. Yay! Steven and I are waiting anxiously for the day when the children are all old enough that we can re-join the choir.



The children got a Wii this year with the help of grandparents, and pretty much played all weekend. Steven and I are a bit anti-video game. I just think that there are far too many electronic devices around these days that are de-humanizing us, and keeping us from face to face interaction...but that's another post for another day. Anyhoo...we agreed that a Wii would be a great family oriented game. I'm excited that something has come along that we can all do together, and doesn't involve one child sitting solitarily huddled over a 3 inch screen. With Noah and Peter out of town for the rest of the week, I'm enjoying playing it with the younger kids. Oliver is already a pro, and Linus is thoroghly frustrated.

Oliver Has a Bad Dream

Oliver was awake for over an hour in the middle of the night over a bad dream. When I asked him about it this morning, he said that he was alone in the woods, and that he heard a loud noise that was St. Michael. He spoke about it on and off all day, and kept questioning why St. Michael would make such a loud noise. At one point he asked me, "Does St. Michael kill the devil before he casts him into hell?"

Out of the mouths of babes! Ultimately, he told me he wasn't so much scared as he was startled by the noise. When I asked why he thought it was St. Michael, he didn't know why...just knew it was. I explained that he was there as a protector, and that if he sees him again, to say hi, and ask him to be more quiet.

After all that, I thought for sure he may have a hard time going to sleep tonight. He didn't want to seem to be alone in his room after his shower, and made me close his closet door. We had a long snuggle, and I left, but he asked me to leave the light on which we haven't had to do in over a month.

Goodnight my sweet boy.

Comfort In the the Words of Al Kresta

I have been so disturbed and upset by the murder of abortionist George Tiller and the subsequent backlash on the pro-life community. A short while ago I received this email and want to share.

Leading Abortionist Murdered
May 31, 2009
Al Kresta

Years ago, I debated the defrocked and excommunicated Presbyterian pastor Paul Hill (1954-2003) over the question of whether or not killing abortionists was justifiable homicide. In short, I argued “Absolutely not.” He argued that he was obligated to protect the unborn by killing their murderers and thus preventing further abortions.

Paul Hill wasn’t insane or even “mean.” Rather he was in the grip of an abbreviated logic. He reasoned that since abortionists kill children then by killing abortionists we will save children.

As a moral theologian and pastor, Hill was wrong and convinced almost nobody. When it was clear that pro-life people dismissed his argument as grossly inconsistent with the moral law, he went out and killed an abortionist and his escort and wounded the abortionist’s wife. Paul Hill was arrested, convicted and, in September 2003, executed for their murder. He never publicly repented and perished in his folly imagining himself a martyr and leader: “While most Christians firmly profess the duty to defend born children with force…most of these professors have neglected the duty to similarly defend the unborn…I was certain that if I took my stand at this point, others would join with me, and the Lord would eventually bring about a great victory.” As an activist and prophet, he was also dead wrong.

He failed to see two obvious truths:
- There are many non-violent ways to stop abortions.
- Every act of abortion has multiple accomplices. Each accomplice bears differing degrees of culpability. Why should Hill’s logic stop at the abortionist and not with others who make his work possible including local law enforcement that protects clinics?

How about the one person most obviously standing between the abortionist and the preborn: the mother. Mothers call for abortions. Tiller provided them a service for a fee. As long as mothers want to get rid of a pregnancy, there will be abortions. As long as men want sex without relationships, there will be prostitutes. Both advocates for abortion and prostitution are willing to take the cash and call it empowerment for women. This doesn’t mean the law should permit either abortion or prostitution. It does recognize that we won’t get rid of depersonalized sex by killing prostitutes and we won’t end abortion by eliminating abortionists.

Absurdity as well as tragedy stain his position. Yes, abortion is a form of child-murder. But it is murder carried out with the consent of the mother uninformed as she may be. Hill, to be consistent, should have advocated the use of proportionate force to stop abortions. Following his twisted logic, he should have forcibly stopped mothers from entering clinics and, when persuasion finally failed, anesthetized her and removed the innocent child by C-section. After all, isn’t this a more justifiable use of force? Nobody gets killed. Of course, this is morally repulsive.

Killing abortionists doesn’t save lives. It takes lives. It is murder. It usurps the authority of the state by pretending to mete out justice to evildoers. It is vigilantism and diminishes respect for the rule of law.

If the moral arguments aren’t clear then the public relations argument should be. While the law needn’t permit mothers to kill their children, neither is the law enough to make mothers want to avoid abortion. For that, it is necessary to turn the heart of the mother toward her child. Paul Hill turned hearts in the wrong direction. He created unnecessary sympathy for the pro-abortion regime.

In all likelihood Tiller’s killer has not prevented the death of children. More likely, he has further hardened America ’s heart against the unborn (who people can’t see) by generating sympathy for abortionists (who people can see). His act distorts the truth because it shows blood on the wrong hands. Good heavens, he was shot to death ushering in his church. Absurd.

As Fr. Pavone has written: “At this point, we do not know the motives of this act, or who is behind it, whether an angry post- abortive man or woman, or a misguided activist, or an enemy within the abortion industry, or a political enemy frustrated with the way Tiller has escaped prosecution. We should not jump to conclusions or rush to judgment.” I agree. Regardless of motive, however, Tiller’s death is an unjustifiable act of murder. His widow is bereft. His soul needs our prayers for the mercy he thought he was showing mothers but denying to their children. Tiller had mugs inscribed with the motto: “Trust women.” As an active churchgoer, it should have been “Trust God.”

Thoughtful Children

I ran out to Joanne's to pick up a few things to finish a gift I'm making for someone. Noah was being particularly helpful while I was browsing through the pattern books. Just moments before, he saw me drooling over this book about embellishing. Turning it over and seeing the price, I returned it to the shelf, made a mental note to see if the library has it, and kept moving. At first I wasn't at all curious about the questions about my favorite kinds of foods. My first answer which was "steak" wasn't what he was looking for so he started fishing (no pun intended) for an answer like, Italian, Mexican etc. I sat there for quite a while browsing while Noah pushed Linus around, and kept an eye on Oliver (not an easy task).

~Aside~ I'm almost afraid to go into Joanne's anymore because I feel like I spend the entire time scolding him for hanging from the ceiling...only a slight exaggeration.

Remarkably, everytime I called Oliver, he answered....immediately!!! Only Steven can appreciate just how FRIGGIN' unusual that is. He'd say "right here mom", and pop his head around the aisle. Once he was a few isles away and said "coming...I'm walking up the aisle....now I'm coming around the corner....now I'm coming around the other corner....almost there....Ugh! He cracks me up. Anyway, Noah asked if he and Oliver can "look around" while I'm in line, and could they meet me outside. I rounded up my few purchases and told Noah I was going to check out, and pull the car around. The line was very long, so by the time I was 5th from the register, I heard Oliver approaching the front of the store...he was singing Jingle Bells (well his version to which I'll post the lyrics later).

My eyes welled up with tears (just as they are now) thinking of my kids buying me a Christmas gift. I didn't turn around, and I didn't acknowledge them...I didn't want to spoil their surprise. I could hear quiet comments about the boy and his little brother buying their mom a gift. Ok...no more welling...we've got a veritable downpour (now, not in the store).

I couldn't help but think about the Christmases when we were little. My dad would give us each a little money (a dollar, maybe two), and drive us into town to do our "shopping". It would always be in the evening, and seeing the decorations and the lights was magical. Windows were beautifully decorated, Christmas music was playing...I loved it. We would almost always do all our shopping at Woolworth's where I would spend what seemed to be hours picking out just the right pair of earrings for my mother. I remember one year they were big gold hoop wires with pink stones. Now that I'm a mother, I realize that her the tears she cried when seeing them had nothing to do with their...ahem...beauty. But had everything to do with the excitement she could see in my face waiting for her to open the package, knowing that I took that dollar my dad gave me, and put my heart into picking something out for her that would rival anything I saw the movie stars wearing.
Well, I've done it now...I'm soaked and the kids want to know why I'm crying.
I wonder what every happened to those gold earrings with the pink stones.

Lots Going On

I have started and stopped posts for weeks now. Not feeling much like writing, or just busy? Interruption after interrupion...if someone wakes up and starts cring I'll just scream!
Thanksgiving has come and gone, and was quite lovely...my favorite was Julie's spinach and artichoke dip! I made my pumpkin cheesecake which was my best yet, and whoopie pies. I thought they were delicious. There would have been more, but in a moment of stupidity I put them on the back porch for a few minutes to accelerate cooling and a squrrell helped himself to a few. AND had the nerve to sit there and eat them in front of me!!!

thief, originally uploaded by sunshine0216.

Steven and Bill said they smelled like fish....what???? The kids made a gingerbread house which as you can see became home for a monkey...no surprise there.

thanksgiving 08, originally uploaded by sunshine0216.

The drive home from Milford, well it was a memorable one. Oliver started crying the minute we got in the car. "Hungry! My body is hungry!" Linus chimed in, and we had crying "in stereo". That went on for 15 minutes while Steven and I tried to say our Rosary. 30 seconds after they quited down and fell asleep, FLAT TIRE...yep, that's what I said. Poor Steven had to put the spare on in the freezing cold, no gloves, and 2 screaming toddlers in the backround...he's a saint.

I'll have to add more later. The battery is running low and I'm too lazy to go plug in.

Our 5th Wedding Anniversary

I can't believe it's been 5 years. Yet in some ways, I can't believe it's only been 5 years. I thought for the occassion, I'd share a bit of our story.
Steven and I met online ~ yes a match made in cyberland ~ actually on Ave Maria Singles. I had been a member for some time, had a pretty serious relationship with someone else that I met on the site, but changed my membership to inactive when we broke-up. 6 months later, I visited the site just to scan new members. Steven's profile was the first to come up in my search. He was younger, and lived too far away to date, but we seemed to have so much in common, I thought it would be fun to correspond. On Friday I changed my membership status to active,(required in order to contact any member), and planned on sending a note over the weekend. When I logged on to do just that, there was a message waiting for me from him. Evidently after I changed my status, my profile came up in his search, and he too thought we had a lot in common. After a week of emails we switched to phone calls....very long phone calls. 6 weeks later, on Valentines Day, we met for the first time. On June 15th (I think) we were engaged, and on October 11th married.
Our wedding was beautiful. We had a Solemn High Mass in the Tridentine Rite presided over by my dear friend Fr. Bovee. The reception was a simple dinner attended by lots of family and friends. Noah's teacher gave us the best gift....she brought Bionicles for the boys to assemble during the reception. They look so little...Noah and Peter, not the Bionicle.



Now, 5 years and 6 children later(2 were miscarriages, and of course, Peter came with Steven) ...here we are! We knew that there would be challenges, and boy was that first year a doozie (sp?). Now ~ we have the ups and downs that any loving family has, and we roll with the punches. I love Steven more and more every day, and our children are blessings beyond belief. Noah and Peter had a great deal of adjusting to do, but have grown to be fabulous friends and loving brothers.

I can't wait to see what God has planned for us!

On the Subject of Blood

Oliver: The blood cells are the bones, which means the blood cells inside your body are attached. Did you know that?
Me: No, and what else?
Oliver: That's it...that's it of my story.

He talks about these kinds of things often lately, and likes to read this book.



This morning in church I heard him "reading" the missal. I couldn't hear every word, but I'd hear things like..."and St. John said that Jesus' blood died on the cross, and now it's in the tagernagle

Inspiration Beyond Belief

I was given (well, lent) this book by a friend over a year ago. She had seen the author speak at a local event, and was so moved by her appearance and the book that she insist I read it. The plan was to read it during my maternity leave, as this happened days before I had Linus. Well, I started it twice, and just never got farther than the 10th page or so. I believe that the internet is to blame for my now lazy style of reading; scanning quickly to find the bits and pieces of information that I'm seeking.
For whatever reason, I put it in my bag as we left to go spend 5 days at my in-laws, and managed to get 50 or 60 pages in during the drive. I found I had to re-train myself to read properly. At about page 40, I finally realized that I was skimming, and missing vital details. I consciously slowed down, and realized that this story deserved my full attention.
Over a year after being given this book, I believe that God inspired me to finally pick it up and read it. 2 days after finishing the book, I was laid off from a job that I've had for almost 5 years. It was a job that I enjoyed, and one that was vital to the economic well-being of our family.
I believe that reading Imaculee's story has altered the way that I'm handling this obstacle, and actually, not seeing so much as an obstacle, but rather a blessing...an open door...an opportunity...a slap on the face. Call it what you will, my heart and mind is open...speak to me Lord.

Peas and Carrots

I have to laugh because I had a drama teacher in high school ~Susan Daley, what ever happened to you?~, anyway when we were onstage and had to be in the background giving the appearance of being in a conversation with someone (a silent one) she would say, don't REALLY talk, just move your mouths like your saying "peas and carrots, peas and carrots" over and over. I'm sure it looked ridiculous.
Anyway, this post is about another of my new favorite blogs. Visit Jessica, you won't regret it. She makes the most delicious bags, and has a fabric stash that makes me drool! AND as if that isn't fabulous enough, click on "giving back", and you'll see that she is a supporter of Option Ultrasound
I'm going back to look some more...

Oops

I had to post an amendment to my previous post as I found out that St. Pio, although somewhat preserved, does indeed have a silicone mask on due to some decay. Click on the "Oops" to read the article.

Padre Pio

I just got an email and had to post these pictures...they're just amazing. Padre Pio has been dead for 40 years, and he appears to be merely asleep. I read a book (the name escapes me right now) about him a few years ago. He is one of those people who completely facinates me...Mother Teresa is another.



Eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul and all the souls of the faithful departed rest in peace. Amen.