How I'm getting things done these days

For the last few weeks, I've been checking more than usual off both my daily chores and my house project lists.  A big part of this, of course, is that Peter has a regular nap and bedtime routine that gives me some free evenings (and free hands during the day) and that we've gone almost two months without anyone needing antibiotics (!).  So there are certainly circumstantial reasons why the clean clothes are all currently folded and not in a heap on my bedroom floor.  

But even though it's easier to get things done, it still requires effort on my part.  I'm still prone to all my crazy reasons of procrastination (more here), but I've been repeating two mantras to myself, and those shifts in mindset have seemed to be a big help.

1) Don't wait until it can be completed perfectly to start.

This applies to both upkeep chores and renovation/crafty projects.  I was out in the backyard last week with the kids and felt annoyed that our back porch was still painted bright red, that the furniture was haphazardly placed there, and that it was so far from my mental (and Pinterest) image.  I knew there was a lot to be done, some of which probably won't be done this season.  But I finally decided to just trim the bush.  One tangible step towards the space being tamed and beautiful.  I immediately felt better about the whole area and more committed to making it more like my vision.

Within a few hours of my first clip, we were at Lowe's buying porch paint.  Credit for that trip to Anna, who caught wind of the project (and her mother's improvement enthusiasm) and asked to go to Lowe's "right now, mommy!"

Fast forward to the pretty pictures, and the porch is a much prettier, happier space.  I enjoy looking out my kitchen window.  We have had lovely mornings with our breakfast and library books out there.  Sure, there is more to be done.  But it was an important lesson in taking the first step towards a goal, and in recognizing that a space that is halfway towards what you want it is far more enjoyable than a space that is 0% of the way there.  

I'm trying to train myself to look at everything else this way.  We are planning to do a major kitchen renovation in a few years.  I used to resign myself to being dissatisfied with its form and function until then, but I've recently identified a few small things I can do to make it prettier and more operational.  I haven't even done these projects yet, but just knowing I can already makes me like my current kitchen more.

I've also tried to remember this rule in the typical day-to-day jobs, too.  I don't have to wait for a block of time sufficient to iron all the shirts to do one or two.  And, bite by bite, the elephant is eaten.

(reminiscent of the "use the moments" observation from this old post)

2) Obedience to the circumstances of my life.

We were listening to a Catholic radio broadcast in the car the other day, and the host was talking about obedience in daily life.  Many of us are familiar with the vows of priests and sisters, to poverty, chastity, and obedience.  This broadcast was talking about how these virtues are not exclusive to those in religious life, but rather are a calling for all Christians.  These virtues are, of course, manifest in different ways depending on ones state in life (celibacy for the religious and exclusivity for the married), but are not to be ignored by the laity.

I am not called to obedient to a bishop or superior in the same way that a priest or sister would be, but I am reminded of the story of St. Therese, who would drop her pencil mid-sentence (not even pausing to dot an i) when the bell chimed for prayer.  She was obedient to her obligations and responded promptly, even to the schedule.

The radio host was talking about the weather, and how we can be cheerfully obedient to whatever comes our way, accepting it without grumble.  I've extended this to my daily chores.  There is work to be done, and it is my responsibility to do it.  I'm working on silencing my inner grumble and doing whatever needs done promptly and cheerfully.  

As I was making my way through my copious ironing back-log today, I realized I would typically dig through the basket, looking for the things I enjoy doing to do first, leaving a pile of polo shirts at the end.  It became a bit of a game today, picking up what was on top and doing that immediately.  The whole process today was both quicker and happier.  This of course, is a simple and silly way of practicing obedience, but I'm hopeful that in emptying the training potty without interior complaint, I will learn to be obedient and accepting of actual challenge or suffering.

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I think there's a Nike "Just Do It" hidden in both of these mindsets, and in both cases, it's requiring me to focus on the process and the progress over the end result.  I read last night that for effective goal setting, one should focus on the activity rather than the accomplishment (e.g., I will exercise everyday instead of I will lose 10 pounds).  I think that my most recent copy of my resume describes me as "results-oriented," but perhaps the new "progress oriented" version of myself will get me happily closer to those results than ever before.

baby plants, baby people

Any posts I put together in the near future are very likely to revolve around my garden.  I've dubbed it my 4th baby for the summer (although maybe we should call it my 5th, because I always said that our Ithaca house was my first baby).

I never had a particularly green thumb before, although I think that was more for lack of attention (so many other projects!) and so there may have been some discussions in our house this spring as to whether or not I'd actually follow-through with weeding and watering and whatnot if we build the beds.

If anything kills my garden this year, it's not going to be neglect.  (Actually, the biggest problem I had so far was seeds that didn't sprout due to too much love, err, water).

The gardening season has coincided nicely with the development of Peter's reliable evening sleep habits, as well as with the girls new no-nap-early-bedtime schedule, and so I have a nice little chunk of time to spend outside.  It's incredibly peaceful to be able to do a task with painstaking attention and without interruption.

There are disappointments, of course, like the aforementioned packets of seeds that didn't materialize because I flooded them.  Or Tuesday evening when I discovered that our neighbor's cat(s) decided my fledgling zinnas patch was the best place to go to the bathroom.

But mostly I just wonder at the miracles God created (it's really amazing, isn't it - what grows from dirt?!) and breathe deeply and appreciate that I'm able to see relatively quick results at what love will grow.

Gardening isn't all that different from parenting, in the sense that "everything grows with love" (I saw a t-shirt with a cactus and that phrase before and thought it was brilliant and hilarious).  People (especially little ones) need someone to pay attention to how much water they've had to drink and whether or not they're overwhelmed by the sun or if someone is totally crowding out their space.  And grown-ups and kids alike thrive on love.

I am discovering that the behavior and mood of certain children of mine are particularly  PARTICULARLY sensitive to their sleeping and eating needs. (At which point I'm sure Justin would point out that apples don't fall far from mother tree...)  And yet sometimes, even when I think they've been pretty well rested and pretty well fed, there can still be an afternoon of tantrums.

I can only do so much, and it's an illusion that I could control every single factor to keep my (human and plant) babies growing perfectly.  My evenings of careful transplanting into straight little rows is balm for my soul after crazy days, but there's still the weather and the animals and the bugs and the mold to remind me that I'm not really in charge, and how much I depend on God to even open my eyes.  But He has given us the beautiful opportunity to cooperate with His grace, to nurture what He has given to us.

It's rewarding to see the results of love poured out in time and attention.  Less obviously in children, given that their seed-to-bloom time is a marathon and not a single summer.  But I'll keep digging away, day after day, watering, pruning, loving, appreciating.  What a wondrous gift we have to love things into bloom.

 
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I'm not sure that this reflection is entirely coherent, but it was on my mind as I gardened this evening.  One of my other musings (and potential next post) is about doing something towards a goal instead of waiting until it can be perfect, so I'm going to apply that to this blog and hit publish!  Thanks for your kind response thus far to this reintroduction, and please know that your comments are so very much appreciated and inspire me to keep writing.

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One last thought, I recently discovered the blog Better than Eden and was particularly moved by her post "When I'm hurting, draw me closer."  It's at least tangentially related to this post, or perhaps it's just on my mind because it's something I wish I had done better during the latest round of tantrums today, but I think it's worth a read!

Eyes on the prize

You know what makes my heart happy?

To look out my kitchen window and see this:

I often take laundry to hang out at the new house when we're working there all day since I don't have the luxury (or a normally functioning dryer...) here at the house-sitting house.  And when I look up from peeling wallpaper or sanding spackle or (finally!) rolling on paint, to see the laundry billowing in the breeze (and my family picnicking on the porch), I get such a sense of joy welling up inside of me, and a gratitude that so very soon the simple pleasures of life in this charming little house will be mine everyday. 

Despite having known since February that this will be our house, my heart is still catching up to my brain, and I've been increasingly finding myself sobbing tears of joy (totally unhelpful when I'm trying to paint something) at the realization that we're actually going to live at the new house, that we actually will have our dishes in the cupboards and clothes in the closets, and at the end of the day we don't have to turn out the lights and drive away.  

There's a palpable longing from all four of us to just be home.  

I don't want to sound ungrateful for the blessing it has been to house sit this year.  It was a wonderful situation for us having moved to a new area, and in retrospect, I'd still chose this again - but more in the way that you chose going to the dentist than you chose spending time with friends.  I've learned a lot and grown a lot, but I'll be completely honest and say that I'm very glad it's almost over.

There have been a lot of little (first world!) annoyances, like the aforementioned dryer that needs three cycles to dry anything, and the size of the house that makes it impossible to find anything the toddler has touched, and the dog hair.  Oh, the dog hair.  It's an amazing house (and dog), really, and perfect for the family who lives here normally.  We're just not that family, and learning our own wants and needs in our living space has been very instructive.  

Most of all, the challenge of this year has been feeling perpetually in transition.  I looked back in my blog archives tonight and realized that one year ago, I had already put a significant portion of my belongings in boxes (many of which are still in box purgatory in the basement).  It's weary-ing to think that we have a long month of renovations to juggle, another packing of the truck, another unloading of the truck.  And - *duh* moment - I realized today that nothing will magically get into drawers or closets once we arrive.

These days have been physically and emotionally and mentally tiring - I've been doing more physical labor than normal, plus juggling a whole lot of details about floor colors and prices and the latest plan for the family room ceiling, all while worrying that this (necessary) month of craziness will permanently ruin the girls, or at least their nap schedules.

I crave normal, routine, home.

It seems impossibly far, and yet delightfully close.

And isn't that the human condition, really?  Our hearts were built yearning for something more, restless always until they rest in Him.  We instinctively know and desire that there is something - some place - beyond this messy, imperfect world where we long to be home.

If there's anything that Justin and I have learned in this year, it's that longing for a place of comfort and familiarity - and the realization that it will never entirely be fulfilled in this life, no matter how perfect the paint colors or how plushy the carpet (and, believe me, it's plushy, we ordered it today!)  There will always be (metaphoric and literal) stink bugs and dog hair and annoying dryers because life isn't perfect and because we have lessons to learn as we muddle through.  But someday, someday God willing, the brilliant beauty of Heaven will fulfill us at last.

Eyes on the prize.  Eyes on the prize.

Renewing our "yes"

I have so many new house pictures to show you (as of last week, we are home  project owners again!!) but I thought I'd pop in today with a quick little reflection on what struck me while celebrating yesterday's solemnity.

As we celebrate the Annunciation, we can rejoice in Mary's yes, her fiat, for the sheer wonder of the Incarnation, of God made flesh in a virgin's womb.  As mothers, we can also rejoice in Mama Mary's example, renewing our yes despite the uncertainties and challenges and fears of bringing a child into an imperfect and messy world.

Mary gave God her yes that the Holy Spirit would come upon her and place Jesus in her womb - but in so doing, gave an open yes to all the years that would follow.

Her yes to cradling the sweet newborn Christ child,

to the joy of her beloved son,

and to the wonder of raising the child God.

But her yes also to the panic when Jesus was lost in the temple,

to her helplessness at the foot of the cross of her crucified Son,

and to the sword that would pierce her heart.

And so on the Annunciation, we have the opportunity to renew our yes to God in the children He has entrusted to our care.  Yes to the sleepless nights, the diaper blowouts, the toddler tantrums and the near constant messes.  Yes to an unknown future for children in a world that can be downright frightening, in bodies that could betray them with disease and wills that could lead them astray.

Mary is to the left.  Anna told me today "I fordot to dive Mary a head."

When staring at a second line on a pregnancy test or gazing into the eyes of a newborn for the first time, we give that child and his or her Creator a blank check of a yes - to love and to selflessly care - no matter what life will throw our way.

The lyrics aren't a perfect fit (nor is the context - I'm sure this is the first time Moulin Rouge and the Annunciation have been connected in any way), but the song "Come What May" from that film was running through my head yesterday.  Written, of course, for romantic love, but so fitting for a mother's ongoing love and constant fiat.

With God's grace and Mary's example:

And there's no mountain to high, no river too wide

Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side

Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide

But I love you, I love you

Until the end of time

Come what may, come what may

I will love you until my dying day.

More inspiration from Mama Mary: They Could Have Been the Stressful Mysteries

{pretty, happy, funny, real} volume 2

Dear cyber friends!  It turns out that I really do enjoy posting here on the ol' blog, and when things get crazy and I don't get time to write, I miss it!  But yes, I've been busy with other things (ahem, Christmas preparations...and laundry and sleep schedules that still aren't 100% back to routine after only 2 nights away for Thanksgiving.  Heaven help me after the 2 weeks of travel that are penciled into our upcoming calendar...)

The best way to recap the time since I've last written (excluding, perhaps, an extensive invoice from Amazon.com) is a photo montage to the theme of {p,h,f,r} (pretty/funny/happy/real).  Enjoy!

{pretty}

(note, we are in fact only on the 3rd week of Advent but all of our candles have been burned because they're still last year's model (frugality for the win!)

We set up our Advent wreath, a paper count-down chain, and our nativity (with empty crib!) on the first Sunday of Advent.  I love feeling the feeling of longing that comes with the season of Advent, and I love the beautiful simplicity of these items before all of the decor of Christmas.

{happy}

I feel strongly about observing Advent, and I love the spiritual depth of the beautiful Advent hymns - ones that I intentionally listen to on repeat before I break out the Joy to the World.  However, I've struggled with the practical aspects of waiting to do all of the preparations until Christmas Eve.  I thought THIS article ("Advent Guilt" on Catholic Icing) was a wonderful reflection and it really helped me to make peace with finding a balance - of celebrating Advent, but also of preparing for Christmas.  A gradual approach feels right this year, beginning with just simple Advent things and slowly adding Christmas decor.  We got our tree this weekend and decorated it tonight.

It's one of life's great joys for me to sit in a darkened room next to a lit tree (which I have the pleasure of doing now).  And I realized that this brings me a reflective peace that I maybe missed last year when our tree didn't go up until Christmas Eve.  It helps to build the anticipation and the excitement for the coming of the joyful holiday and of our Christ.

So: happy for the tree, happy for figuring out the balance that works for our family, happy for toddler squeals of joy, and the fact that we managed this operation without breaking any ornaments (yet) - although we did spill some hot cocoa in the process!

{funny}

It makes me smile to see all the places that the pieces from Anna's play nativity set have turned up :)  The camel watched over her breakfast, St. Joseph accompanied her at bath time the other night, and baby Jesus is tucked in snugly in her doll house.

Incidentally, we've spent so much time reading nativity board books (a few favorites HERE, HERE, and HERE) and talking about it getting ready for Jesus' birthday (a VERY exciting idea for a birthday loving toddler) that more than a few good-meaning strangers who have asked Anna while we're out and about if she's ready for Santa Claus have been meant by blank stares (although, today she did tell the pediatrician "not yet" in response).

{real}

I've shared only my favorite 7 of the more than 250 pictures in my December file, and so it seems fair to also show things that are a bit more...representative...of daily life around here:

(Behold, the power of cropped photos for making it appear that you have things put together!)

Spoiler alert, the Christmas card will not feature Christmas jammies, since that photo shoot produced only out-takes...including this one, which makes me laugh out loud every time I see Anna's face.

The {real} story is that despite trying to keep things simple, the addition of Christmas preparations has turned my day-to-day from being mostly under control to feeling a little crazy.  I've also found that this sentimental season has been rough for me emotionally as I think about my Grandpa and our first Christmas without him.  And I also have to say that although we're so thankful for the opportunity to house-sit this year, this season especially sends a little (or big!) twinge of homesickness for my sweet little house (and how much I loved to decorate it for the holidays!) and all of the places and people we left behind with this year's move (and the family and friends in our hometowns who are still too far away despite the move that we had hoped might bring us geographically closer).

A friend reassured me tonight that it's never too late to still claim postpartum hormones for the emotional roller-coaster of motherhood ;)  A little bittersweet in some ways, I suppose...but I'm glad for the chance to reflect on all the pretty, happy, funny that still weaves its way through the days.

Happy Advent, and a Merry Christmas in case I don't find my way back to the keyboard between now and then!

linking up with Like Mother Like Daughter for {p,h,f,r}

A Homemaker's Blessings {Guest Post by Mandy from This M Word}

I don't know about you, but I'm currently getting back into the swing of things after our Thanksgiving travels and playing that mental tug of war: "Ahh, so many projects to make/gifts to buy/things to do for Christmas!"  "Calm.  Advent.  Quiet.  Peaceful."  "Must. do. all. the. things." "Quiet.  Slow down."  And so while I wrestle with my to-do list (and my inability to do as many things as I dream), I have a lovely guest post to share with you today!

Joe & Mandy were good friends of ours in New York, and just as we were packing up to move, they too were preparing for a move - theirs across town to a new (to them) fixer-upper house.  Being the renovation-lover that I am, I was disappointed to not be there and able to see the transformation first-hand.  I asked her if she wanted to do a guest post (thinking perhaps that would be a way for me to see pictures of their newly completed - and amazing! - kitchen re-do), and she agreed.  However, instead of just before-and-after photos, she sent me this lovely post about the blessings in everyday life as a homemaker.  I hope you enjoy it!  Please visit her at her blog This M Word  (and you can see the kitchen pictures there...did I mention it's an incredible transformation?)

And so without further ado, here's Mandy:

I've found myself reflecting quite a bit since the renovations have died down and the everyday litany of things that make up a life start to be the focus in my world once again. Renovating a house built in the 1890's is for sure a nice distraction at times from laundry, cooking, cleaning, and teaching, but I have to admit I started to really miss taking care of my family. It is not something I'd recommend doing all the time, renovating an old home, but it puts into perspective the many many blessings that have been imparted on this family.

Early on in my journey as a mother I struggled to keep my household going, and keeping it to the standards that society has set down. In my mind, as a new mother, it was very important to establish a clean and functioning house with dinners at a specific time, laundry done, folded and put away, in a word, perfect. I drove myself a little crazy trying to do things a certain way, and ensuring all the chores were done by the end of the day for an evening of relaxing. To be sure, Joe must have thought I lost my mind, watching me move furniture, fold clothes a certain way and a myriad of other tasks I had set for myself. In retrospect, I realize all the lessons that were being taught to me in those moments. These little blessings in the mundane that I had hardly the time for and now, after two children, a diagnosis for my son and daily prayers I can see what these blessings are in my life and for this family.

For roughly a year I worked hard to create the perfect home, or what society showed us to be perfect. I had fallen into this trap, and willingly went along but never felt satisfied or complete. Something was missing and I couldn't put a finger on it so I started to pray. I prayed to God to speak to my heart, and I asked Mary to intercede on my behalf for wisdom and understanding. Another year passed and not much changed in my mind, and understanding did not come easily. It wasn't until we moved, and lived outside of our house in utter chaos, that finally in my prayers, understanding and awareness took place. Yep, you read that right, in the midst of chaos, kids going to bed as late as 11 pm or refusing to sleep at all, scattered or lost clothing, switching off nights to work on the house, meals from mcdonalds every day (sadly every day)....understanding and awareness took place.

It's hard to find blessings in the mundane. After all, the mundane is by definition dull, but this is where I found my biggest lessons from God and through those lessons, blessings. These mundane tasks range from doing laundry for the 5th time in a day, to scrubbing poop off of the wood floors, and taking the kids out on my husband's day off just so he can have some peace. These lessons have taught me service with a loving heart, and sacrifice. As I began the monumental task of righting our family's ship and setting a routine. Cleaning a cluttered and not fully completed home, cooking out of a bathroom with two little kids for over a month, while school started and renovations continued was no small feat. I prayed a lot to God in those moments and it eventually occurred to me that those moments were chances to choose right, a lovingly placed lesson by God to teach me and grow me into the human being I was meant to be. Chances to teach me to do these tasks gladly, because they helped my family, they taught my children love and responsibility and no where was there this expectation to be perfect. These were my blessings.

A Blessing: nevertheless, like a sacrament, a sacramental helps the faithful to sanctify each moment of life and to live in the paschal mystery of our Lord. 

As I began to realize these little moments for what they were, I started to wonder what Blessings were, by definition. I had never had such a rich and intellectually deep resource to search in before I became Catholic. So naturally I decided to see what the Church said on such matters. A fantastic explanation in full can be found here, but what truly stuck with me was this phrase "Nevertheless, like a sacrament, a sacramental helps the faithful to sanctify each moment of life and to live in the paschal mystery of our Lord." It called to me and said "Yes! See, even the mundane tasks can be filled with little blessings, little lessons and ways to live for God!"

Blessings come under the category of sacramentals. A sacramental is a special prayer, action or object which, through the prayers of the Church, prepares a person to receive grace and to better cooperate with it.

I have no doubt that these lessons I have become aware of are little blessings in my everyday tasks that have helped me to sanctify even the most mundane of moments, and in turn glorify God. I can't say I am perfect in this but I'm not supposed to be. Unlike society's imposing charade of perfection which weighed me down and proved me a failure, God's true perfection has elevated everyday tasks as a chance for sanctifying, loving and being simply human.

I can't say I would prefer it any different. Would you?

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Thanks, Mandy!

If you're a new visitor to my blog from Mandy's, welcome!  I write about the challenges and joys of making a home, the frustrations (and blessings!) of life as a young mother, and our efforts to reclaim good, old-fashioned traditions.  (Oh, and you can see our own kitchen renovation here!)

Julie's Catholic!

Praise to the Lord, O let all that is in me adore Him

All that hath life and breath

Come now with praises before Him

Let the 'amen' sound from His people again

Gladly for aye we adore Him

How wonderful it was to join in singing the opening hymn at today's Mass, with words expressing the joy that has been overflowing in my heart.

We had a wonderful weekend celebrating Julia's baptism, and I'm so thankful for the wonderful people who made long trips to be with us!

Fabulous God-parents

Fabulous family.

 Anna narrated most of the ceremony with "Doolia's Baptism!  Fodder pour water on the head!" (on repeat).  When we asked her after what the Deacon had done for Julia, she said "splashed her!"  Her enthusiasm, however, was spent well before it was time for any pictures:

Welcome to the Church, sweet girl!  As a friend wrote in your card: "It's a wonderful place to be!"  Amen, and Alleluia.

For Anna's Baptism photos and more about their gown (cut from the train of my wedding dress), see HERE.  (Note that the post is about celebrating her first Baptismal Anniversary; the second anniversary celebration definitely fell off the radar last month!)

We are all His

This post is a little heavier than my recent room-update, pregnancy-symptom chit-chat, but I feel compelled to share a little reflection of my thoughts today, as perhaps there's someone else who may need the same reminders as I.

You may remember that I wrote about my Grandpa back in April, and asked for prayers as he and my Grammy transitioned from life at home to an assisted living facility.  I guess I didn't tell the whole story back then, or share that the root reason for his health problems is cancer - a cancer he's fought longer and harder than anyone thought possible, but one that is now taking its toll.  When I talked to my mom this afternoon, I learned that he's experienced a pretty significant decline this week.  Thankfully, he's not in pain, but he's slowly slipping away, and we're all preparing ourselves that he might not have much time.

It's hard to see our loved ones sick, hard to see them beyond the abilities of modern medicine, hard to face the reality that none of us are guaranteed even one more minute on this Earth.

It hit me hard today to hear the news, in part because I've been blessed by a life where I've never lost someone close to me.  All four of my grandparents are still living.  I had a good relationship with one of my great-grandmothers (we would mail snippets of fabric from our recent sewing projects to share with one another) who died when I was in 8th grade, but even she was more removed than a grandparent who I saw at least once a week for most of my life.

It also hit me hard because of the timing of the circle of life.  His life is coming to a close as we prepare to welcome baby Julia.

And the whole thing, as I said, makes you think of your own mortality.  I am thankful for a healthy pregnancy and good doctors and facilities that make childbirth fairly safe these days, but I still can't help but be reminded that giving birth is among the more dangerous things I'll do this year.

It's hard to think of living without loved ones - those whose deaths we anticipate, and those whose loses are completely unexpected.  It's also hard to think of the lives of our loved ones if something were to happen to us.  I sometimes wonder if my sweet girl would know just how much I loved her if something were to happen to me.  Or I ponder how either Justin or I would make it alone, having built a life so mutually dependent on the other.

All of these thoughts were swirling through my head this evening, and an image came to mind - an image that brought me great comfort throughout my childhood.

My mom had a statue of a little child leaning into the palm of God's hand.  Whenever one of us was struggling with something in particular (like my long challenge with some serious anxiety as a child), she would bring it into our room and put it on our dresser to remind us that we weren't alone, that God was always holding us.

I've tried to remember throughout my parenting that Anna belongs to God, and that we are watching her and caring for her, but ultimately not nearly as much as he is watching, caring, and protecting her.  It's a good reminder at every stage of parenting - from the moment of conception until our children are old and gray themselves.  As much as we love them, God loves them more.  They will always be in the palm of His hand.  And us, too, in our frazzled, worried states, are held there just the same.

All of our loved ones, each and every one of us.  We might be frightened by the unbearable losses that we experience or anticipate, but our loved ones are held - in their life and in their death - just as we are.  God will not let us go, will not let them go.  We may feel alone, confused by His timing, unsure of His love, but He is there.  We are all His.

This is not the exact same statue that we had growing up, but it is the one that is currently on it's way to our house to sit on my nightstand, in hopes that I never forget that my girls (or I!) are so secure in the palm of God's hands. (source)

With gratitude

So after all the ice buckets, it seems like the next big thing on Facebook is to challenge friends to do a little "count your blessings" exercise, listing 3 things for which you're thankful everyday for 5 days.  When I was challenged, I felt a little awkward about posting it on Facebook, but it somehow feels different to do it here (you all knew this site was going to be very Emily-centric when you clicked on over, but you didn't necessarily bargain for that in your newsfeed).  I'm going to morph the rules a bit and write a gratitude post of 15 things, rather than 5 different Facebook updates.

Incidentally, I was having a rough morning when I decided that I should do this.  It was one of those days when I seemed to wake up with less energy than I went to sleep with, and I couldn't help but look down at my ticking time-bomb of a belly and wonder how in the world I'd ever get things settled before the baby makes her arrival.  (Side note, I was further progressed at my 36 week check-up yesterday than I was at 39 weeks with Anna.  This probably doesn't mean anything besides this isn't my first baby....but the knowledge that I'm already beginning to move towards delivery isn't exactly comforting when absolutely nothing is ready!)

Anyway, I thought about the challenge, and started to wonder if I would participate by listing my blessings.  This was before I decided to do a blog post, so it was mostly a thought experiment since I felt awkward about the whole Facebook thing.  I thought of a thing or two, and suddenly I had a flood of ideas.  And with the ideas, true gratitude and a brand-new wave of energy and enthusiasm.  It was such a cliche moment, but I started to realize that all of the things that were stressing me out were minor side effects to major blessings - blessings that many people would love to have.

We can all check the news and give a sort of superficial "oh, I'm so thankful for my nice life" but until you actually make yourself stop and think - but for the grace of God, there am I - it's hard to acknowledge that we COULD be the ones stranded on a mountain and being persecuted, or the ones dying of incurable diseases, or the ones struggling to decide between payments life-saving drugs or food for the family.

There are obviously so many more blessings in my life than could fit in a 15-point list.  Some of the things (ice cream, Emily, really?) are not nearly as important as others that I left out (not being persecuted, for one), but this isn't an exhaustive list, nor is the order particularly relevant.  But one thing's for sure - it's all things I'm very glad I have, and the big - and little - joys in life that, when I remember to keep them in perspective, really turn a bad day around.

(1)

That I have thus far been able to conceive, carry, and deliver healthy babies.  I know that the minor discomforts of pregnancy are nothing compared to the crosses of infertility and miscarriage, crosses that so many people have to carry.

(2) 

As I strive to create a comfortable and loving home, I recognize all the more what an incredible blessing it was to grow up in a home that was exactly that.  Unlike so many of our peers, my siblings and I never had to wonder if my parents loved each other or us.  And my parents are still amazing and will do things like drive 5 hours each way to spend the entire weekend running a carpet cleaner and carrying things up 2 flights of stairs.

(3)

This incredible man deserves a bullet point all of his own, but I also couldn't help but reflect on the amazing blessing of marriage in general.  Justin and I will often note how thankful we are - both that we don't have to go to the trouble of searching for someone, but also to have the security of each other's love and the knowledge that, come what may, we will be have someone by our side to weather those storms.  After discovering Marie Miller's song "6'2" in quick take posts last week, I can't stop listening to it.  It touches me with a haunting remembrance of the time of longing and of uncertainty, of wondering if my wonderful prince charming would ever come along.  (Spoiler alert, he did).

(4)

Justin often jokes that I'm solar-powered, and I am definitely very affected by the presence (or lack thereof) of sunlight.  I'm thankful for the glorious windows in this house, including a 2-story wall of windows in the living room, and this beautiful patch of sun where Anna and I get to eat lunch and watch our birdie friends dine outside.

(bonus picture - Justin would sometimes take me to the growth chamber in his lab at Cornell, which was basically a big, wonderful box of sunlight intended primarily for growing plants but also very effective for wife mood improvement on grumpy winter days)

(5)

This is one of my favorite pictures, ever.

Sometimes I just stop and reflect on how many amazing people who have come into our lives over the years.  We have some incredible family and friends, spanning childhood, high school, college, career, Ithaca, etc.  I've had the moments where I stop and think - "wow, these people really want to spend time with ME?!"  

(6)

It's hard to fathom the blessing that Jesus Christ is present - body, blood, soul, and divinity - to us in the Eucharist.  And, what a comfort to know that in every Catholic Church in the world, a little red candle burns, reminding us that there He waits in the Tabernacle.  Our new parish is right at the end of the road into our neighborhood, and so I pass it every time I drive anywhere, and I find just driving by Him to be a blessing.

(Photo from my incredible friend (see #5) Meg's site - go here to read her awesome reflections on the Eucharist, all of which have helped me to grow in my understanding and appreciation of this gift!)

(7)

Yesterday, both Anna and I had check-ups at the "dod-dors off-ice" and it reminded me how thankful I am that we have access to quality healthcare, and that we have been able to find pediatricians and OB-GYNs both here and in Ithaca that we really like.

(8)

It's been a joy to see Justin embark on a job that he loves and one where he absolutely excels.  (He'll tell you he's still just figuring out how this whole professor thing works, but I can tell that this is truly his vocation and that his gifts are perfectly aligned in this position.)  

Side note - he does not regularly drink champagne in the classroom, but this picture (from his PhD defense) is the only relevant picture I have.  Second side note / secondary benefit - I do not complain about how handsome he looks everyday all dressed up for work :)

(9)

ICE KEEM!!

My thoughts exactly, Anna.

(10)

(Of the thousands of hours I've logged, apparently this is the only photographic proof of me having ever used a computer)

It can be a distraction and a temptation to waste time, but more often than not I'm grateful for the Internet and all it does to keep me connected to family and friends - and even new friends.  Skype lessens the blow of Anna being hours away from her grandparents, and seeing even quick status updates from friends across the country makes it feel like they're not thousands of miles away.

(11)

Pictured here: my new Eucharistic devotion medal (#6) that I ordered from Etsy (#11) with the gift card that the lovely ladies  (#5) from our mom's group in Ithaca gave me as a going away present.

The ability to buy everything we need (and most of the things we want).  After a grocery trip, I'm amazed by the bounty of opening the refrigerator.  And with pregnancy + toddler + economically depressed town, I've become (more) dependent on online shopping - thank you, Amazon...and sorry, Mr. Postman.

(12)

It is so amazing to watch Anna learn and develop.  In the last month, her verbal abilities have just exploded, and having a window into her little brain has been so much fun.  She was SO excited about her second birthday this week, and it was fun to be able to celebrate with her and know that she understood what was happening (I still hear her wishing herself "Happy Birfday, Anna!" from her crib as she falls asleep at night).  Hearing her count to ten for the first time was an incredible moment.  I'm thankful both for her development, and for having a front-row seat to watch it all.

(13)

We might not have everything set-up yet, but we've already reaped a lot of benefits from the house where we're staying for this year (like this beautiful view from the front porch).  I feel like I'm living in the lap of luxury with a garage, a garbage disposal, and a master bathroom.  We might be spoiled after this year!

(14)

I have to admit that I'm easily annoyed (at least internally) by people who are (by choice rather than health) extremely picky eaters.  I'm thankful that - first of all - none of us have any food allergies, but also that Justin (and, for the most part, Anna) is an adventurous eater who honestly enjoys everything, including fish, vegetables, beans, meat, salad, etc.  It makes certainly makes cooking healthy meals a lot easier (and more fun).

(Back story about that photo - it was from the first time I made dinner (granted, it was just frozen chicken fillets and steamed broccoli with some reheated potato casserole that someone had generously brought to us) after Anna was born, and I absolutely felt on top of the world).

(15)

My creative hobbies - from sewing to home renovation - bring me a lot of enjoyment, have saved us money on things like curtains and decor (savings probably negated by my extensive stash of unfinished projects), and have resulted in a lot of neat finished products for ourselves and for gifts.  I'm grateful that my mom passed along the interest and the know-how of working with my hands.

Bonus gratitude: my awesome mother-in-law is currently visiting, so Anna will have grandma time tomorrow morning while exhausted mama and daddy sleep in and I don't have to feel guilty about how long this post took me to write and how late I (accidentally) just stayed up!

---

I guess part of this thing is that I'm also supposed to nominate some people to count their blessings.  It honestly was a really worthwhile use of my time and gave me a much needed "attitude adjustment."  So - I encourage everyone to take some time and do it.  Any one else want to write a post?  My blog-friends in similarly crazy stages in life (when - I know - it's easier to lose track of this big picture)?  Mandy?  Ellen?  Rosie?  Rachel?

P.S. Thanks, Maria, for the challenge :)

Alive and well

Hello, all!  I have a much longer post partially written in which I will give a full update about our transition, how we're settling in, etc, etc (hopefully coming sometime in the next few days!) but I've started to feel guilty about how long I've left you all hanging, especially with such a dramatic/tearful last post.

I won't go into details here (otherwise this post will end up in drafts with the other one), but the Cliff Notes version is that the move went very well and the transition continues to be easier than expected (except perhaps getting an Ohio driver's license, but we eventually conquered that as well).  There's aspects of Ithaca that we miss (most especially people) but by and large we've found ourselves feeling settled more quickly than I would have ever imagined.  I still cry if I look at pictures of the house, but on a day to day basis I don't think of it often or miss it specifically.

I posted these two pictures (from the day we bought our house, and the day we sold it) on Facebook right after we moved with the following caption:

4 years, 1 marriage, 2 sweet girls, 1 PhD, a revolving door of wonderful visitors, thousands of laughs, hugs, and tears, and hundreds of trips to Lowe's. Good-bye to the wonderful home that has held it all.

When we stood on that porch in June of 2010, we had no idea what was to come - the ups and downs of renovation, the incredible people who would come through the doors and into our lives, and the joys and trials of daily life.

Looking back and seeing all that those 4 years (and our beloved house) held is an encouraging thought as we stand here on the brink of a new life in Steubenville, our toes just over the edge into a new adventure.  Remembering how God's beautiful plans have played out gives me confidence and excitement to look ahead to each coming day as the next chapters begin to unfold.


p.s. updated "About This Blog" tab!  Check it out :)

They could have been the "stressful mysteries"

As I shared in one of my recent posts, I'm generally moving beyond the emotional-wreck stage and into the let's-get-this-party-started stage of moving.  However, I'm still a Type-A, hormonal pregnant lady who is experiencing a fairly substantial life change, and so....there are days.

But despite "those days" (sorry, Justin and/or any/everyone else), I'm finding moments of grace and inspiration that are strengthening me throughout this whole experience.

Take yesterday, when I sat in church praying a rosary before Mass began.  I started meditating on the Joyful mysteries (never mind that I realized later that I was supposed to do the Glorious, but given my reflection, I'm happy for my mistake).

The first mystery: The Annunciation.

I start my Hail Marys, and start thinking of the Angel appearing to Mary.  I'm suddenly struck by fear and the anxiousness that Mary must have felt at the arrival of an heavenly messenger.  I thought not only of the startling messenger, but his alarming message: she was to become pregnant out-of-wedlock and to bear the Son of God.  This is not exactly a Precious Moments cherub delivering happily-ever-after news, as I've been oft to think before, with the benefit of now knowing the whole story.

Hmm, I think, as I reach the Our Father bead and begin a new mystery.

The second mystery: The Visitation.

I'm suddenly struck, again, by a new image.  No longer is it just happy hugs and long, loving chats by two glowing cousins.  I realize that it's two women meddling through the discomforts of pregnancy, one having sustained a long journey, without our modern conveniences, and with the added anxiety of not completely understanding the great mysteries God has planned in each of the new lives in their wombs.

Yikes.  There's more stress in all of this than I ever previously noticed.

The third mystery: The Nativity.

Childbirth.  In a cave.  Surrounded by animals.  Far from home.  Young, and very likely scared.

As I pray, I think of the painting of Mary we have in our room.  I purchased it last fall, having seen it at the Catholic bookstore in our new town on our should-we-move-here trip.  I was struck by the image, one of the only times I've ever seen anything besides radiant joy in a nativity picture.

But how true, that single tear, representing the bewilderment of every new mother.  How, she wonders, could I ever be worthy of this new life, and how will I ever live up to my call in raising this gift?



Mass began, and I put my rosary aside, unable to shake my new understanding of these mysteries.  I came home and began telling Justin of my observations, and we talk about the 4th and 5th mysteries.

The fourth mystery: The Presentation.

"Well, that's not so bad," I said to Justin.  "Other than the whole prophets telling you a sword will pierce your heart part," he counters.  Oh.  Right.

The fifth mystery: The Finding in the Temple.

I can see the great joy here, but not without recognizing the immense pain, fear, and concern at having not only lost your own child...but misplaced THE SON OF GOD.



Throughout each mystery, I see the fear, the anxiety, and the pain that must have accompanied Mary at each of these moments.  They might have easily been named the "stressful mysteries."  However, we are taught to reflect on these moments with JOY.   The Church shows us these examples of Mary's grace, first in recognizing her beautiful fiat, her acceptance and trust in the Lord.  Mary, in her humanity - and perhaps even in her femininity - would have had the inclination for such a naturally anxious response to such stressful occurrences.  However, she chooses joy.  She chooses to follow God's plan for her life, and to hope in the good that is to come from the suffering.  Therein lies the second lesson of these mysteries: God's plan is bigger than the moment, larger than what our human understanding can comprehend within the limits of time and space.  With the lens of history, we can appreciate the joy in each of these Biblical moments: the announcement of the arrival of the Son of God, the wonder of John the Baptist leaping in his mother's womb, the birth of our Savior.  We know how the story ends, and this knowledge teaches us to accept all that had to happen for this Divine Plan to be instated.  But in that narrow space of each moment, Mary couldn't have known or understood all that was to come, yet she chose anyway to respond with joy.  In our own lives, we rarely understand how God's plan is at play.  Even in moments when we know - or have chosen - that our changes or plans will mean things being tough before they get better, we often focus on the stress, rather than the ultimate joy.

And so, this is my prayer: that in each moment, as we go through challenges, changes, and stress, that we learn from Mary's example - that no matter how overwhelming or stressful it might seem in the short term, we choose to accept God's plan and accept it, not with anxiety, but with ultimate joy.