And Then This Thing Called LIFE Got In The Way...

So, yes. I am about to eat humble pie. I'm finding the taste to be quite palatable. Especially when it's become such a staple.

:S


That last post? With all the I'm going to make my kids remember the Saints and their feast days with lots of crafts and baking spiel?

It didn't happen.

First of all, I had quite a few discussions with wonderful friends, the first of whom e-mailed me and talked me down from the ledge. I need to find what is best for our family, she tells me.

Well, duh, I thought.

But then I realized that I was neglecting to do just that. I was seeing what others were doing and comparing. Bad. Very bad. And I've railed against that beast before. What the heck was I doing?

Secondly, I simply did not have time. And why? Because our family activities got in the way. Now, how ironic of a statement is that?

Saturday evening we went to a beautiful First Communion ceremony for the son of new (and becoming very close) friends of ours here in town. Then we had way too much fun at their house, sharing dinner with them and the pastor of their church. (Who we know... since he had been the pastor of our old parish way back when) My kids had an awesome time with their kids, and we didn't get home until after 10pm. I wouldn't have changed a thing.

Sunday was lovely, with made-from-scratch pancakes, tree decorating, and our Nativity Play potluck dinner with 4 other families. No buns or St. Lucy bread. Little Dear corralled the girls and made the crowns all on her own (so! proud! of her!) while I made a cake and put together a vegetable tray for the dinner. The fire was crackling in the fireplace and Christmas songs (both the obnoxious and the bearable) crooned throughout the house.

The story sheets of St. Juan Diego and Our Lady of Guadalupe were spread around the house as the various kids picked them up and read them. A few coloring pages were completed. The St. Lucy crowns were assembled and worn. All while some very old, established, Nut House family traditions were fostered.

While I know that my children need to be closer to the saints, and I am determined to find a way, I understand now that that way will be unique to us. Every family is different. Different temperaments and talents. I need to do some more thinking. And breathing. Because, you know? Breathing is good.

:)

Living and Loving Life

Today is a day for joy here at the Nut House.

My second younger sister has given birth to a beautiful baby boy, giving me the status of "Auntie" for the first time on my side of the family.

The pictures she sent were of a beautiful, peace-filled home birth. The fortitude and strength of husband and wife laboring together were awe-inspiring and makes me long even more for one more chance to work that hard with my husband to bring such joy into this troubled world.

Our love and prayers are with them especially today as they enjoy their first full day with our little nephew...

:)

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Last night I received a phone call from a local friend.

She is a new friend, having just moved here from the east coast, so her husband could pursue a graduate degree at the local Catholic university. She is a kindred spirit, with 5 peanuts of her own, in the same gender order as mine, and a home schooler to boot.

We get along wonderfully.

She has a tough story to tell. Her mother has recently died, and being newly pregnant and living in a strange town among people she does not know, makes it a lonely time for her.

And now God has thrown her a curve ball.

Her littlest child growing inside her has died. And now she is struggling through yet another time of grief in much the same way that I did so long ago. As she waits for nature to take it's course, I know too well her feeling of limbo and pain. Even though it was 5 years ago, it still feels like yesterday, as evidenced by my breaking down on the phone while talking with her husband. The pain is still so fresh, just below the surface. The loss is still so painfully real.

And the beauty and the pain of it all just sears my heart and the tears come pouring down.

And I have to let them.

Today... (or is it 5 months from now?)

...is my feast day.

My name is a Welsh derivative of Margaret.

And since the Church has an abundance of Saint Margarets, I was able to do some research and choose my name-saint.


I chose Margaret Clitherow for two reasons. The first is because I was an insufferable teenager and wanted to assert my own identity by finding a saint that no-one knew about.

:)

The second was that I felt drawn to her story of heroic motherhood and eventual martyrdom.

And today, it is a story I need to hear. I need to be heroic, and prayerful and full of purpose and joy.

Have a blessed day!

:)

ETA: ooops. CE had it as the "saint for today" and so I assumed it meant the saint's "feast day." When, in actuality, Margaret Clitherow's feast day is March 26th. (See, Lisa, there was a reason I thought it was in the Spring!) Ah well. Either way, I need those extra graces today....

Thank God for saints!