Big Change Starts Small

This summer is a scorcher and it’s not just isolated to my little corner of New England, which has seen more than it’s fair share of hazy, hot and humid days punctuated by downpours so intense the front lawn turns into a temporary moat. Across America, across the globe, the temperatures have grown unbearable. Unless you have access to air conditioning, the world feels outright inhospitable. 

This weather is remarkable but it shouldn’t just be something to discuss casually in the checkout line at the supermarket or around the water cooler at the office. The droughts, wildfires and excessive heat waves are a call to action; a rallying cry that we need to do something, and quickly, to preserve our environment so that it can sustain us and our future generations just as it has our past generations. Banking on a future without undertaking substantial change is a gamble that’s proving more and more foolhardy. The earth cannot sustain the current model and yet we persist with our mindset of convenience over conservation and economy over ecology. 

Pope Francis accurately labeled us the throwaway culture - prioritizing our immediate wants over the needs of others to the lasting detriment of others. I am deserving of this label as is most of my fellow humans within industrialized society. We consume at an alarming rate and for naught more than ease and image. We view consumption not for the sake of survival but as a measure of self-worth. The more we can afford to consume, the higher our worth or so it goes.  Very few people need 3 or more pairs of jeans, to heat and cool a 2500 square foot house or to upgrade a cellphone yearly. But need very rarely enters the equation these days. We are so focused on our exteriors, on what the world sees when it looks at us, that we have tossed restraint to the wind. We want what is newest, shiniest and most-attention-seeking so that we feel validated. We want to be someone worth noticing. 

And so our economic models have followed suit, constantly putting forth new trends and upgraded models that we, the consumer, are told we must possess. And the cycle of wastefulness perpetuates to the point where we are today, on the brink of environmental collapse. Our planet cannot sustain exponential growth. Resources are finite. And when (not if) we reach those limits, I only pray that I an those I love are not around to witness the fallout. 

Change starts small. It starts with individuals. It starts with me. It starts with you. Only when the voice of the people bubbles up to the level of local, state and national government does change become institutionalized and the effects more widespread. We are not there yet. Not enough individuals believe that they play a role in shaping the world. Many are of the attitude that if others are doing something, it must be ok that they do it too. Or perhaps they want to make a change but think that the impact of their efforts weighed against the cumulative effects of everyone who maintains the status quo will amount to nothing. There is a Chinese proverb: “Be not afraid of growing slowly, be afraid only of standing still.” Change starts small and gains momentum. Where one can change, many can change. And where many change, we will begin to see impact.

I recently stood on the shore of my favorite beach and as the waves broke against my ankles, hundreds of pieces of plastic washed in and out around my feet. The temperatures inland were well over 90 degrees. And all around me families unpacked picnics of foods wrapped in plastic, which often blew away into the sea. My kids played nearby, running in and out of the surf with joyfulness. But I felt such a pang of anxiety that perhaps this experience wouldn’t be here for their children the way it has always been here for past generations. What a heartbreaking prospect.

We all need to make some very drastic changes starting today. We will likely have to sacrifice the convenience of unsustainable practices for longterm betterment. A series of small changes paves the way for larger changes. Willingness to go first and set the example also shows others that change is doable and worthwhile. In that spirit, I am committing to the following earth-prioritizing and sustainability-focused changes:

1. No new clothes for the next 12 months. I have enough in my closet to probably last me three years but I’m starting with a year since I am so used to retail therapy and keeping up with seasonal trends. I will diligently care for my clothing to improve it’s longevity. I will pursue alternative means to relieve stress and increase self-esteem. 
2. We will limit consumption of food and food products packaged in plastic. I will make bread, cookies, granola bars, etc. from scratch. 
3. We will use only reusable food and beverage storage at home and for school/work lunches. 
4. We will eat lower down the food chain. Less meat from larger animals. More beans. More veg. 
5. We will better adhere to seasonal eating. Just because you can get an apple in New England in summer doesn’t mean you should.
6. No more single purpose trips in the car. Errands will be condensed into one, multi-stop trip. 
7. No new makeup until I finish EVERY thing I have currently. Then I will buy a sustainable, earth-friendly brand. 
8. Walk and bike ride, when possible. We live close to the center of town. There’s no good excuse most days to drive to school, the library, the grocery store or the pool. Plus, using the power of your own body is great exercise. 
9. If we lose or ruin something, we will not replace it. We will learn to live with less. 
10. Gifts will be handmade, experiences or necessities. We will not buy what we or others do not need. 

These are small potatoes. The world needs so much more than the cumulative effects of these 10 actions. But if another person also followed these? Or an entire neighborhood? Or a town? Imagine the impact. Change starts small, with as little as a few followers. But with the right messaging and support, look at what could grow. 

Jesus the Environmentalist

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It's hot out there. Unbearable, really. So much so that I willingly hauled up the window AC units from the basement, lodged them in my windows and have let them run for the past four days almost unrelentingly. Anyone who knows me and my hatred for those cursed window units, with their droning hum, will understand how hot it must be for me to resort to their regular usage. 

There's a huge debate raging whether extreme weather and other natural disasters are linked to global warming. I don't want to add to that debate because we're in an age where people believe what they believe and that's the end of the story. My voice in the argument will change nothing. What I do hope to influence is the responsibility we share as Catholics and Christians to address our throwaway society, as Pope Francis has labeled us, and better embrace our role as stewards of the earth. God gave us dominion over the land, the sea and all His animals but I do not believe this constitutes a free pass to do whatever we want for our comfort and convenience, especially at the sake of others. 

Jesus Christ is our exemplary leader when it comes to how we treat one another, how we love God, how we persevere and have faith in times of trouble or temptation. He lived modestly and while his life left a monumental imprint on both history and humanity, it could be argued that his physical footprint on this earth - what he took and what he used - was minimal. The same cannot be said for many of us.

We eat whatever we want, from plastic packaging that we toss into the trash, whenever we want it. We buy more clothing than we need simply because we can and then discard it when the fashion is no longer relevant; it's relatively inexpensive and we feel we deserve it. We drive almost everywhere in cars that are often much bigger than what we need for our everyday activities. We buy homes far more spacious than necessary, either to convey status or house a dearth of accumulated items. I am equally guilty of many transgressions on this list. I have been careless with the resources God has given and contributed to the jeopardization of future generations' safety and health. This is not a comfortable feeling when I stop and think about it. 

Jesus lived modesty and we should, too. The impact we leave on this earth should be in the hearts and mind of others and not in the finite resources this planet has to offer. When we pray in The Lord's Prayer to "lead us not into temptation" we must ask for steerage away from the temptations of convenience and excess, because these almost alway come at an expense. We need very little. Shelter. Food and Water. Love. The rest is wants. And it is our uncontrolled wants that lead to a throwaway society, as wants are transient and change all the time. 

Christians are called to be environmentalists, even if not so explicitly labeled. By living out Christ's teachings in an age of excess, individualism, convenience and expected gratification, we are asked to be different. We cannot pick and choose which teachings apply and which do not. We must live them all. We must live simply. Take no more than we need. Act with best intentions for all. And bypass all that is extraneous. Remember, Jesus was a great king, born in a lowly manger: humble and unassuming throughout his life. If we truly embraced this way of living, think of the good that could be accomplished. Think of how much less there would be to throwaway. We'd be so bound up in His love and kindness that we'd want for nothing physical and strive for no earthly status. 

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The Connection Between Being in Good Shape and Being a Good Catholic

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As I lay in bed, repeatedly slapping the snooze button on my alarm, I felt guilty. The alarm was telling me “Time to get up and exercise” and I was telling the alarm “I have a different priority this morning…sleep.” The guilt came from the fact that this was probably the 4th or 5th day in a row where I deprioritized my morning exercise routine for no real reason other than that I didn’t feel like doing it. It’s a fantastic show of self-love to cut yourself a break when you need one, to listen to your body and know not to push yourself, but I will fully admit that lately I’ve just been lazy. I want to look good and feel good, but I don’t want to put in the work.

Lying in bed, knowing that I should get up and choosing to ignore that inner voice, I recognized that my commitment is what allows me the ability to say I am in relatively good shape (there’s ALWAYS room for improvement). If I the commitment, I’ll quickly lose all the benefits I’ve worked so hard to enjoy. The sad statistic is that it takes us at least 6 weeks of dedicated effort to see positive effects from exercise and only two weeks for those effects to decline.  Unfortunately, mulling this over didn’t motivate me to get up and get moving; however, it did lead me to ponder other areas of life that require routine and dedicated work. I couldn’t help but think about faith.

I’ve had the phrase “you’re a good Catholic” said to me a few times over the years, usually in response to making Mass on a Holy Day of Obligation after a long day at work or teaching religious education between cantoring the 8am Mass and singing with the choir at the 11am Mass. It’s supposed to be a compliment and I take it as such, but I sometimes want to say as a reminder “We can all be good Catholics.”

The amount of our goodness is directly proportional to the amount of time, effort and energy we invest in our beliefs. If I am a good Catholic (and there are days I feel a long way away from every giving myself that label), it is only because I prioritize Mass, feast days, prayer and devotion over other choices within my life. It is not because I am chosen or somehow specially selected. It is not because I am perfect and sinless. I am far from it and working daily to be a better version of myself. We all have the opportunity to be good when we make the choices that align with what our faith teaches, just as we all have the opportunity to be in better shape when we elect to prioritize exercise and wellness.

We long to be in control in a world where so much feels beyond our grasp. There’s actually a lot more we can control than we might at first admit. We can never control God, but the amount of control we have over our relationship and our commitment to Him is quite powerful.

While I didn’t manage to get up and grab my weights that morning, I certainly felt the motivation kick back in the next morning when my alarm went off. I dragged myself down to the basement for my planned 30 minutes and when it was all over, I felt proud.   

In life, outcome is proportional to effort. I can work harder. I can be better. Especially when it comes to my faith.  

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Living in Society and Living for God

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I have found nothing better than books and music to accurately articulate the nuances of human emotion. There is both power and comfort in words perfectly strung together.

Earlier this year I finished Matthew Thomas’ We Are Not Ourselves, which follows the fate of one family as they navigate a life that is far from what they planned. While it wasn’t my favorite read, Thomas’ precise use of language to convey his characters’ thoughts and emotions made an impression and I recommend the book for those gems he has tucked throughout the prose.

“She could buy used and save for the future, or she could make a statement about where she thought her life was heading, and shape the perceptions of others about that trajectory, and maybe sway the future by courting it.”  

“Eileen Leary”, We Are Not Ourselves

As a Catholic, I know that a life of modesty – both personal and financial – leads to a righter relationship with God. When we shed all of life’s distractions, we can step closer to God’s plan for our life. But like Eileen Leary, the main character in the novel (who also is coincidently Catholic), I experience this tug between prudence and extravagance, heavenly pursuits and earthly desires.

We live in a society that affirms for us daily that image matters. Who we are as people, our brains and our hearts, is secondary to what is seen. We are evaluated on what we look like. Are we fat, thin, blond, brunette, greying, muscular, flabby, tanned, pale, wrinkled, smooth-skinned? People notice what we are wearing. Are our clothes ironed, matching, stained, formal, informal, designer, trendy, classic? Where do we live? An apartment, a condo, a house, a big house, a small house, an old house, a new house, in a good part of town? What car are we driving? Sedan, coupe, SUV, clunker, old, new, luxury, budget. Society affirms value in beauty, physical fitness and wealth. Just watch a movie or pick up a magazine. They are filled with rich, beautiful people.

Those of us who know Jesus understand that he loves us regardless of whether we sit at the top of the social ladder or barely cling to the bottom rung. I know I should not expend an ounce of my earthly time pursuing things that have no bearing on my life everlasting with God. But knowing and acting on that knowledge are two different animals.

Like Eileen Leary, I have a mental picture about where I think my life is headed. In exchange for years of hard work in a tough, corporate environment, I have plans and expectations. And like Eileen Leary, I find myself looking to material objects as affirmations that the plan is or is not on schedule.        

I thought that by this point in our lives, we’d be able to redo our kitchen. Replace my husband’s clunker car. Go on regular vacations. Financially, we’re nowhere near where I planned to be (however, I must admit we are much farther in our spiritual formation than I ever imagined!). But instead of trusting God as the architect of my life, I see all the occasions where I have reached out to grab some material object – a piece of clothing, decoration for the house, pair of shoes – to try and convince myself that despite the deviation from where I thought we’d be, everything is OK. The relief is fleeting and in the end, I feel foolish, like I am play acting in a drama where everyone knows I’ve been horribly miscast and I flounder aimlessly in a role that is too big for my meager talent.

I cannot court the future. I cannot architect a life of ease, security, or a sensation of alignment with societal expectations. As God plainly states in the Book of Jeremiah “I know the plans I have for you.” (Jer, 29:11) They are His plans and not mine. Society tells us one narrative. Christianity tells us another. I struggle as I fight the temptation to align my life with an image that contradicts the teachings of Christ. It is not easy - or glamorous, or popular, or fashionable - to live our faith in this world. Poverty, meekness, humility and service are at odds with wealth, egoism, ambition and ease.

The easy answer would be to renounce my existing life, quit my job and go live a life of quiet service. If I rubbed up less against society, then in theory I would be less tempted by its callings. The harder answer is to stay within my current life but live differently. This is what Jesus did. He came amongst the people, amidst those who believed very differently than he believed, and he lived focused on his Father’s purpose. He was greatly unpopular. He did not fit in. Yet he persevered until the moment of his death. I will never be like Jesus, but I want to cast aside my ties to things that do not promote my faith. With courage and God’s help, I too wish to persevere.

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Confessions of a Recovering Judgmental Mother

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Confession: I have been a judgmental mother, standing in silent condemnation of the choices other women make regarding their children. I didn’t set out to be this way and could certainly never claim a self-righteous superiority that would allow me this position. There is no pedestal of perfection on which I sit. But still, I judged.

“That’s a lot of junk food in that shopping cart.”

“Her kids get sick too much.”

“She’s not going back to work? Her child is not going to be as well-adjusted as a kid who goes to daycare.”

As I write these, all of which have crossed my mind at one point or another, I recognize how snitty, shallow and self-serving they sound.

The truth is, I don’t know if I am doing this whole mom thing “right”. I have nagging doubts about myself and the life I am providing the two people I am responsible for raising. Who I am as a mother feels much more the product of circumstances than the result of deliberate choices, and my response has been to deflect my uncertainty by scrutinizing others instead of myself. I feel angry. I feel powerless. Instead of acknowledging my feelings and dealing with them, I have justified my existence by critiquing the situation of others and trying to position my circumstances as superior.

“It’s great that I have to work; I’m setting a great example for my kids. Moms who stay home aren’t.”

“Daycare is fantastic for social development. Kids who don’t go to daycare are missing out.”

“Organic, homemade food is so much better and my kids are healthier.”

In an attempt to talk myself into my own life, I needed to dismantle the world around me. I thought I could somehow appreciate my situation if I convinced myself it was better than other alternatives. And my means of a pep talk was to paint my world as better. Except that the world is not this black and white. I know no mother who deliberately makes bad choices for her child. We all want to do right by our children and we are doing our best under our own very unique circumstances.

One day, I felt what it was like to sit in the seat of undeserved condemnation. A coworker made a judgmental comment on a decision I made for one of my children. I was stung, but more than that, I wanted to justify myself. I swallowed the knee-jerk decision to say, “You don’t know what my life is like. If you were in my shoes, you’d do the same thing.”

It’s never a fun moment to realize your ugliness. To stand before yourself and not like what you see reflecting back. I found myself in this position. Stressed out and unhappy; no matter how many judgments I passed, I couldn’t understand why I still felt so lost.

But there it was. The moment I realized that no one is doing it best; that we’re all just trying to do our best. My parenting decisions are the result of my complex life and all the mothers I felt the need to judge were simply living out the complexity of their lives. We cannot walk a mile in another shoes. But we can learn to appreciate that those shoes are likely as heavy as our own.

Motherhood is hard. I think all mothers understand that. We all understand the crushing frustration that goes with a role that doesn’t have one formula for success. There is trial and error. There is a lot of making the best out of a bad situation. There are humbling mistakes. And judgment makes nothing better, to that I can testify.

Now, when I catch myself reverting to passing judgment on a situation I know nothing about, I try to instead ask myself “I wonder what she’s going through?” Because we’re all going through something. What we all deserve as mothers is to receive validation that we’re doing the best we can and our best is all we can do. And it’s enough. 

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We're Going Public

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After much discussion and prayer, we’ve decided to send our children to public school.

We are Catholic and we love our faith. The Catholic teachings are the guideposts by which we work to live our lives each day. And in the current world, with the messages our society is preaching (individualism, secularism, materialism, hedonism, etc.), it is harder than ever to live our faith and feel a safe space for practicing what we believe in our day-to-day.

When we first had children, I automatically assumed we’d send our kids to public school. Both my husband and I are the product of public education. For what it’s worth, I think we turned out ok. But then things changed. We changed. Our faith strengthened. And in turn, we recognized the value of living our faith.

My husband took a job teaching at a Catholic school and we sent our youngest along with him to attend Prekindergarten while his father taught math and science to middle schoolers. I absolutely adored the experience. I loved the little faith-filled projects that came home in the backpack, the required school-wide monthly Mass, morning prayer and the general reinforcement of the Liturgical calendar throughout the schoolyear. Catholic School integrates education and faith in a way that other education models, outside of homeschooling, do not allow. I loved that our values were reinforced daily as part of the curriculum. It made my job as a Catholic mama a piece of cake and I turned my efforts to convincing my daughter to switch from public school to a Catholic school.

The downside to my husband’s school is that it is 40 minutes from our home. To get there on time, we were waking our son before 6:30am and then they were on the road by 6:50am to fight the traffic. That’s an early morning and a long day for a little boy.

And then there was the argument from both kids that they wanted neighborhood friends and all that comes with those friendships – invites to birthday parties and impromptu street hockey games. I can’t say I blame them. I am not the most outgoing mom. The reclusiveness goes along with my bookish and intellectual tendencies. It means no one is flocking to me to shoot the breeze or catch upon town gossip. If the kids want to make friends, they know not to come through me. Also, attending a school 40 minutes away wasn’t facilitating the formation of lasting friendships. The kids were craving community and we couldn’t make ourselves a fixture within the school’s community from such a distance and with our existing schedules.

Since I loved our experience and wanted to extend it, I explored Catholic school options closer to our home town. We actually have a school less than a mile from the house. We could literally roll down the hill on which our house sits and be there. What could be more perfect? The downside was that my husband’s school offered significant tuition assistance and the school in town does not. While I agree with the general statement that “you can’t put a price on good education,” I couldn’t justify paying more than we currently pay and jeopardizing college and retirement savings, never mind the inevitable upcoming car purchase. I’m sorry to say that the final straw in my decision was something as base as money, but there, I said it. It’s money.

And so, we’re going public!

Some argue that public school is too impersonal. That the education isn’t tailored for the needs of the students. That the teachers are burned out and under-supported by administrators. That, overall, public education is inferior. There may be elements of truth to these statements, but I try to avoid extremes. I am of the opinion that what you get is the sum of what you invest. Am I going to have to work harder than ever to lift our Catholic values to the height they deserve in general society? You bet.

Philippians 4:13 tells me “I can do all this through him who give me strength.” And so I have a plan for retaining all I loved about Catholic school as we fully immerse ourselves in the public school system.  Here goes:

1)    Set a good example of living our Catholic values.

Sure, Catholic school may reinforce what we believe but parents are the first, and best teachers. We cannot tell our kids that we want them to be kind, charitable, loving and forgiving when we are huffing and puffing at the driver who cut us off trying to get into the drive-through lane at Starbucks. The kids are going to notice the discrepancy and will emulate our actions, not our words. If we want children who live like Christ, we must do our very best to behave like Christ ourselves.

2)    Prioritize family over friends.

This can be hard, especially as kids grow and we parents inevitably become uncool. Friends are certainly important but family time is sacred and must be treated as such. The family is a holy unit within God’s Church and it deserves uncompromised devotion to grow and thrive. Spend time together as a family. Make it a regular occurrence. Kids who feel loved and accountable to their families make better decisions and more confidently navigate the swamp that is peer pressure. And this accountability does not develop overnight - it takes years of careful cultivation.

3)    Attend Mass faithfully. No exceptions.

This goes back to setting a good example. Attendance at weekly Mass and on all Holy Days of Obligation clearly communicates priorities and values. Yes, schedules are busy. Yes, we all have too much going on. But we much unfailingly pick the Lord over soccer or ballet or the PTO school carnival. Just as eating dinner together as a family strengthens our familial bonds, sharing the Eucharistic meal together further unites us.

4)    Celebrate Feast Days and other events in the liturgical calendar.

One of the things I loved most about Catholic School was my son’s awareness of what was going on in the Church at any given time. He learned about various saints. He knew the details of Advent, Christmas, Lent and Easter. He brought home little projects and activities that reflected what they’d learned and we hung them up in the house. Make similar activities regular part of your life! For example, honor Advent with an advent wreath and light the candles and say the weekly prayers together before dinner. Learn the Regina Coeli to say together during the Easter season. Either use a namesake saint or pick a favorite saint and celebrate his or her feast day. These practices help a family keep time with the liturgical calendar.

5)    Prayer and praise – say it loud, say it proud.

Father Patrick Peyton said “The family that prays together stays together.” There is truth to this. I’d also add that the family in which parents regularly voice their personal prayers of praise and supplication are families where children more easily learn to integrate prayer into their own lives. So don’t just pray together before meals. Let your kids see you thank the Lord aloud for a blessing. Or call upon the Lord in a moment of distress. Show them the relationship you want them to have with our Father using a voice they are familiar with.

6)    Supplement curriculum where you see a deficit.

I am the first to admit that public education cannot be everything for everyone. It’s just not possible. If there are areas where a child is struggling or areas where a kid is bored to death and needs more challenge, it is our duty as parents to fill the holes. There are tons of online resources. Amazon has countless workbooks. The public library has a litany of books that can supplement what’s going on the classroom. As parents, we need to feel comfortable grabbing the bull by the horns when something’s not working, and that doesn’t mean writing a strongly worded email to the teacher asking him or her to fix it for us. It means sitting down with a kid who can’t spell and working through a weekly list of words. Or taking out books on coding from the library and experimenting together. Or staring a foreign language. It means really getting involved.

7)    Learn and share the wonder.

In Catholic schools, there is a dedicated religion class and elements of the faith are threaded throughout the main curriculum, too. That’s not going to be the case in public school and without careful attention, learning about our faith can become something that happens only at our Parish’s weekly Religious Education class. As parents, we also need to learn more about what we believe as Catholics so that we can communicate these facts in an accessible and appropriate manner. I majored in English not theology, so I feel duty bound to read and learn about Catholicism and then look for ways to pass what I learn along to the kids. We never stop gathering knowledge and growing when it comes to our relationship with God. Showing our children that the acquisition of “faith facts”, as I like to call them, is important and ongoing helps recreate that steady flow of religious education that is part of the everyday at Catholic school.

All of these pursuits require me to work harder than I am today. I don’t have oodles of extra time. I am already up way past my bedtime trying to finish this post, never mind making photocopies of math worksheets or researching a new saint to honor. But solidifying our beliefs is important and it’s worth the extra effort. We’re going public because I have faith I can make it work. That my kids will get a great education and grow up surrounded by our Catholic faith.

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Finding Gratefulness

There aren’t too many exciting things to do in the area I grew up. It’s rather boring, filled with suburbs that are heavy on their own virtue but rather anemic when it comes to exciting ways to fill a weekend. One of the few attractions is a hike on the Metacomet trail up to the former summer home of the Hublein family. The house, a unique tower structure at the mountain summit, is now a museum where you can look down over the entire valley.

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The combination of fresh air and few other options made this a hike our family completed often. My parents wanted nothing more than to get us out of the house and hopefully tire us to the point that our bickering might be quieted for the afternoon.

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The views from the mountain-top are breathtaking and you feel your smallness in the expanse of the world that unfurls in all directions above and below you. However, completing this same hike on repeat throughout my childhood, bug eaten, sweaty and pestered relentlessly by a younger brother who knew how to initiate the launch sequence of my anger, had all but rubbed the wonder away.  

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We often await a miracle in life that rolls in with thunderclaps and with pomp and circumstance. In reality, the Lord is at work with sublime subtly all the time, if we can shake away our expectations. Miracles are all around us.

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One afternoon, on yet another hike that portended to be like every other with the insects, sweat and annoying sibling, God waited on the mountaintop. Standing on the viewing platform at the top of the museum, which offers a 360˚ look at the valley below, was a man. He was completely blind. And as he stood there, he played the hymn “This Is My Father’s World” on a recorder.

This is my Father's world,

And to my listening ears

All nature sings, and round me rings

The music of the spheres.

This is my Father's world:

I rest me in the thought

Of rocks and trees, of skies and seas--

His hand the wonders wrought.

He couldn’t see, but still he gave praise.

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At the time, I was too hung up on the logistics to see the miracle. I wondered how he got to the top of the mountain. I was fascinated that he could play without seeing where his fingers needed to go. I noted the tune as one of my mother’s favorite hymns and I took in the scenery, mostly disinterested, as I had seen it so many times before. And I walked back down the mountain, more or less unchanged.

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Over the years, I have recalled the man on the mountaintop. He passed, fleetingly, through my mind at various moments but disappeared as quickly as he came. During one of my petulant phases, where I looked around and found fault with everything, he came and stayed in my heart. I harped on my money-pit house. My tedious job. The kids’ messy rooms. The fact that my bank account is not bottomless.  

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But in recounting all my grievances, I recalled that the man on the summit was thankful for all the world’s beauty; beauty he could not see. If he could give thanks for that which he never directly experienced, surely I could manage to be grateful for what was in plain sight before me. A roof over our heads. A job that provides our livelihood. Two beautiful blessings sent by God to be my earthly children. That I have even have savings to fret over.

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I have so much to give thanks for.

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I am disappointed that it took someone giving thanks for what he didn’t have for me to recognize my gratefulness for what I do have. I am disappointed that it took me over twenty years to hear this particular message from God. But now that I’ve heard it, what a gift to return to and endlessly draw upon.

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I am blessed. I am grateful. Amen. 

Ten Years Married

I often think back to our wedding day and with a grin, wonder “Who let those kids get married?”

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We were so young – 23 and 25 – but we felt so grown up and ready to tackle the world together. Neither of our families was overjoyed by the union, but that only strengthened us. We were in love and wanted to make a permanent declaration in front of God, our family and friends, affirming to all we would take one another, from that day forward, to have and hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer in sickness and in health until death do us part.

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Those vows, which are our shared, unbreakable bond in front of God, have been my stronghold. Because, as you well know, my dearest, we’ve certainly had our fair share of heartache in our ten year union. Unemployment. Financial instability. The home improvement house from hell. Death of a parent. A vengeful autoimmune disease. All these have darkened our doorstep.

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We’ve also had moments of overwhelming joy, but as we often joke, we hope God front-loaded the trials and we’re due for an extended period of smooth sailing. These ten years have been hard. I won’t sugarcoat it. But I’m surprisingly grateful for the struggle because the constant churning has polished us into who we are today.

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I like to think I’m better now than the young woman who walked down the aisle to meet you; that motherhood, staring down numerous challenges and all the shared experiences have improved me. But these could be the lies I tell myself. I know without doubt I am not the same woman you married. There are many more grey hairs. My body bears scars from the beautiful lives we have created. I’ve lost my innocence and grown a harder outer shell. But I see my strength and resilience. And through our journey, I forged a bond with God and found faith that we are all here to live out a plan that is bigger than what I can control.

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You’re not the same person, either. You’ve lost weight and hair. You regularly cook dinner for us. Reading is now a hobby. And you have demonstrated unrequited love that simply takes my breath away. If you were to leave this earth before me, I can safely say I will never be loved like this again.

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We both started at the same spot on the altar on April 12, 2008. But as these ten years have unwound, while we are aiming for the same destination on the horizon, we’ve walked our own path and pace. And that’s ok. Our faith in one another, which is drawn from our faith in God’s plan, keeps us focused on the goal and not the individual steps.

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If marriage and life are this hard for everyone, then I am fortunate to have you by my side as my partner. If only we are graced with such intense challenges to overcome, then I am blessed to have you to lift me up.

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I know we were brought together by God, for reasons that I cannot always claim to understand. But I am confident in His plan. I love and cherish you. Happy 10th Anniversary.

The Cross I Wear

I wear a cross most days. I wear it mostly for myself, to serve as the physical connection to what I believe and who I am.

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When I was in high school, I asked my mother for a cross necklace for an occasion I no longer remember; I recall making the request but none of the specifics surrounding it. She selected a silver cross with a heart at the center and gentle filigree designs from a silversmith in the neighboring town. It’s both unique and beautiful and I’ve always loved it. It started as an accessory. Today it is so much more.

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As I grew up and began to face more grown-up challenges – job interviews, health scares, journeys farther and farther from home – I began to associate the cross necklace with my mom and her maternal protection. If I felt scared or unsure, I’d rub the cross between my fingers for the tangible reminder that my mother loves me and would do anything to keep me safe and happy. When she could not be beside me to give the security I desired, her gift from my teenage years helped fill the void and I felt reassured. I’ve clutched it on airplanes. Worked it back and forth on its chain as I backed out of my driveway on an unfamiliar trip. Touched the engravings in gentle meditation while mulling a decision. Whenever I found myself confronting a situation I couldn’t face alone, I wore the cross as a sort of amulet.

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When I was pregnant with my second child, I was possessed with fear that I would either miscarry the baby or die in childbirth. The sense of dread almost poisoned the entire pregnancy as it took over my thoughts and stayed with me throughout the day. Wearing the cross daily lifted me from the darkness. With it around my neck, I prayed constantly for health – for both my baby and myself. Whenever my mind strayed, I used the necklace to invoke both God’s protection and my mother’s love. I felt instinctively that both would keep me safe. And I’ve remained grateful for the safety I’ve been afforded.

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Nearly 20 years have passed since I first received the necklace and I still view it as a protective force; however, my sense of its power has changed. My mother’s love is still deeply embedded, as it will always be. But I now recognize the cross is empowered with the Father’s love, as it was all along; I just wasn’t far enough on my journey with Christ to accept and bear the responsibility of all the symbol represents.

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The cross is no longer a simply necklace. It’s also no longer just a representation of my mother and how much she cares for me. The cross now fully embodies the Father’s protection, too. Wearing it makes me feel emblazoned with His love, although I need no external marker to bear such distinguishment. The small silver symbol provides me both an Earthly and Heavenly embrace. It’s a sign I am proud and privileged to wear. 

Traditions and the Blessing of the Easter Food

My mother rejects routine and tradition. She might deny this categorization, but throughout my life she has always been looking to alter, refresh and bring newness to whatever she touches. She loves to rearrange furniture to make a room look different. She hates to repeat a vacation destination. And she insists that holidays always feature a new culinary offering. No one can call her boring.