ZIGZAG

A few days ago, I was teaching an eight year old, helping to prepare her for the time she will tell a priest when she has been a bit naughty. We met in our living room, sipping peppermint tea as we chatted, feet curled up under us. In the midst of our dialogue about living the way God wants us to, she abruptly jumped off the couch. With excitement, she declared she had a way to show me how God wants us to behave. Walking across the living room, she held her arms down, keeping a 'straight line' as she walked. She told me that was the right path to take. On the way back to the couch, her arms were flying every which way, as were her feet, zigzagging across the room. She called out that this was the wrong path, taking her all the places which weren't right. At times, it is an innocent child who can give us the biggest lesson!

Love and a Phone Call

I have my candle lit and soothing music on.  It is music which seems to affect my spirit and my Spirit. My frame of mind is one which is calling out to God, thanking Him for this peaceful moment.  I often try to set the mood for my prayer and meditation time by having my candle and music close by. It will shut off the rest of the world, giving time only to myself and my God.
Today, my three children, ages 23, 21 and 17 have called me frequently. Some days, I may not hear from the two older ones, who live away from home.  I do not want to interfere with their lives, having 'Mom' check on them.  They know this and appreciate this. When I do get a call, it might a quick one to just say they are thinking of their Dad and I and that they love us.  Other times, like today, they need advice, suggestions, and of course, money! My 17 year old is also out there today, doing errands with friends, calling to ask for an address or where should they look for this item or that. I am pleased they feel comfortable to call, telling or asking me anything and everything.
At the end of each call, we always say "I love you." Never to we fail. It doesn't matter how simple the call is, it still ends in "I love you."
This is how it is with God and me. I can talk to him about anything and everything. I can ask Him for advice and for directions on how to get back on the right path. At the end of our conversation, I always say "I love you!" to Him. I know He smiling back at me, telling me He loves me too!

FIRST THOUGHTS

The first thoughts I have every morning is to say a hello to God, thanking Him for another day. I know I cannot carry out another day without Him. I then pray to Him, asking him to guide me through the present day. My day may consist of personal health issues, taking care of my 94 year old mother and what is bothering her, a phone call from one of our children because they are happy or sad about something, preparing a session for one of my groups at the Church, or deciding what to fix for dinner. Behind every step I take, I must feel the spirituality within me, in what I say and in what I do.  I also tend to pray for others who are angry or tend to be making immoral decisions.  I cannot change them, but ask God to please help them feel His presence, so they may feel at peace. It may take years for them to feel this peacefulness, but daily prayer can help them have a happier, spiritual life.  Never, ever, out of my mind is how Christ died on the cross, to ease my suffering, as well as others, giving all of us a graceful life.  It is always there; it is up to us to open our eyes and acknowledge this.

[1-10-2010 10:51 AM]

M

AGING PARENTS

A special cousin, a good friend, and I have been having discussions on taking care of an aging parent.  It can lead to bitterness, to love, to anger, to laughter.  It can lead to role reversal, with the parent being more of a the child, and the child/caretaker being the parent. There are problems with siblings helping or not helping, or over who should be doing what.  There are parents who are terrific patients and those who are terrible ones. My sweet relative reminded me how hard it is for the parent to realize a good, long life is about over. My friend said  we won't regret all that we did when we could.  Yes, those who help will not feel the guilt that others may feel. Though at times it seems we cannot possibly make it through the hard times, we must take a deep breath, feeling the strength and love of the Holy Spirit. It will help us get through all the trials, tribulations and love of another day. Our patience for the patient will remain, feeling God's unconditional love for both parent and child.

They Made It!

I started out today wanting to write about the Magi reaching Bethlehem to visit the Christ child, bearing their gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. To me, it is an overlooked feast day in our country, yet it is such a magnificent moment.  However, while doing my daily water exercises, using the time to reflect and pray, I began to wonder about the journey itself. What was the terrain like? What kind of climate did they endure during their sojourn? How far did they walk and how many people were with them? It was time for me to do some research when I got home from the pool!

I found out that if the journey began in Jerusalem, Bethlehem was six miles away.  It was a desert climate. Humidity for this area on today’s weather page shows it at 60%, with 70% of its rainfall falling this time of year. The terrain was rocky, with many steep hills. There was likely a large group following the Magi, as they travailed through to see the newborn King. God was always there, through the light of the bright eastern star. We, too, must feel the light of God, always under our feet, no matter what obstacles we face!

PUTTING AWAY

I took down the Christmas tree today, with its withered branches and dried needles collecting on the floor.  It is always hard to take it down, so full of memories. I see  play dough ornaments and Popsicle stick stars made by the children years ago.  I look at the small, carved hummingbird we bought on our first date, and others given to us as wedding presents.  I admire the lovely trinkets presented to us through the years from dear friends and decorations passed on from generations before us. Each child has his or her own list of meaningful ornaments, so they may take those special ones to their own homes one day, ready to start their own family’s tree. It is a bittersweet moment, as I place decorations into their own boxes.  I remember why each was a unique adornment for this child, from the time their tiny hands were holding it up in wonder.. Generations will pass away, but the stories, the laughter, the tears of excitement and the love of tradition will never end. Faces will continue to light up as memories are brought alive, just as the Spirit lights up our souls with His radiance every Christmas.

CHARLES DICKENS AND THE LORD

CHARLES DICKENS AND THE LORD

While browsing through the used bookstore today, I found a book by Charles Dickens, The Life of Our Lord. It was a letter written in 1849, for his own children, to leave a permanent record of his thoughts.  Eighty-five years later, we also became privy to his thoughts. What makes this book so special is its simplicity, written from the heart. There is an occasional error on a few of his thoughts, but the significance of the book is intact. We read how important the Lord is in our lives and what He has done for man. His effortless use of words captures the interest of the young and old alike, yearning for more. This is good advice for all of us.  Speak simply and gently from the heart, leaving a long-lasting memory. Dickens’ book needs to sit by every bed stand, reading peaceful thoughts to the self or the young, before drifting off to dreams of our Lord. My 23-cent book purchase today will now gently feed the minds of many.

ONLY A CHILD

While walking around a bitterly cold and muddy playground one day during recess duty, a little girl about seven came up to me.  She showed me how her thin bare pants had beens splashed by other kids, jumping into a mud puddle to get her wet. My heart was broken twice at that moment; first by her having on such thin, summer pants in the midst of winter, and second by the bullies who did this to her. As the recess bell rang, I told her classmates to tell the teacher I was getting her changed into warm clothes, stashed in my closet for days like these.

I had a classroom of all boys that year. Though they filled they typical wild life of a boy that age, I had also taught them to have respect for anyone and anything. They did not laugh when they saw the soaking wet and muddy child, seeing me reach into the cupboard for a change of clothes.  I handed them to her, saying to bring me the dirty ones back to me after she changed in the restroom, saying I would wash them. She nodded her head no, asking me to make the change her clothes.  I turned to the boys, telling them to put their forehead on the forearm and not look up until I gave the cue to do so. How wonderful they were, turning into silence, not making a peep, never even attempting a peek as we stood as well as we could behind the partially open cupboard door. As I took off her pants, she had on no underwear. Her soaking wet boots had no socks underneath. Her shirt was sleeveless under her threadbare coat. Though I had no underwear to give, I did have socks, a warm pair of pants that fit and a smug turtleneck to get her warm. She returned to class in her new attire, feeling much cozier. My sweet group of boys were allowed to raise their heads, not once talking about what just happened.

 At lunch, I asked the school counselor if she had underwear stored in her room.  She said no, she never bothered to buy any, though had been given funds for such a thing. I proceeded to buy her several pairs of underwear and socks, rushing to a store close by during that lunch period. I found her on the playground and took her into the restroom so she could put on the underwear. We visited a little at this time, telling me she has a brother in sister and the same school, who also don't have socks, underwear or warm clothes. As it was Friday, I told her I would return on Monday with bags of warm clothes for her and the siblings. My idea was to comb our neighborhood, filled with children, asking for donations.  She told me no, none of them would be there on Monday.  I asked her why.  She said her mom was running away from her abusive dad and they had just gotten warning he found out where they were hiding. They had to leave that night for the next women's shelter, found through a hotline the shelters have, telling where there is space.

I was awakened into a whole new world that day. While my children had a safe and sound home, these little things had nothing to call home.  They didn't eveb have anything to properly wear for the season. Likely, they had run out of the house with what clothes they could grab the first, perhaps in the middle of the night. There was a woman's battered women's shelter across the street from our school, no signs indicating it was there among the neighborhood. Just as they had registered they had hoped would be a stay at the school didn't even last 24 hours.

Leaving a life of fright during their plight is a situation none of us want to experience. But, we must help those who do live a miserable life on the road, often in the middle of the night while you and I are sleeping. I have added a few cleaned,stuffed animals to my collection of coats,hats and gloves I carry in the car, to give to those children we seeing standing at intersections or standing helplessly in front of stores. This can give them something which is theres to keep, to cuddle and to love, no matter where they go. They now have a friend which can give them unconditional love. Fixing up backpacks to have their own school paper, ruler, a pen and a pencil,  and a granola bare are also nice to leave at shelters. As with the stuffed animal to hug, they will have a pack of their own, not being teased by others why they don't have one.

May they feel the unconditional love we can give them, through small gestures. Many more of those we may be quick to judge as bums may only have story behind them, such as this little girl. Let us feel the inspiration of the Holy Spirit to be there for God's children, no matter who or what they are. Let us also pray that those who think it is funny to taunt the helpless may feel the love of God, turning their lives around, becoming inspired by His Spirit to help the many in need.

CLIMBING TO ACHIEVEMENT

     CLIMBING TO ACHIEVEMENT

Happy New Year 2010!  It seems as if it was only yesterday we were wondering what would happen at the turn of the new century. The blackout never happened, and people quickly made the transition of writing '20' for the first two numbers of the year, saying goodbye to number 19. Conversations included how there would be positive changes in individual lifestyles. I wonder now how many people can remember what they said during the course of those conversations.  We can hardly remember what was to be a life changing decision for 2009!  

          Years ago, I decided to write down my own changes for the New Year, narrowing my list to five.  I decided not to call them resolutions, naming them 'goals.'  It would be much easier for me.  There was not a concern about breaking a resolution. I might briefly fall away from my goal, but I could get back up and resume my climb to achievement. I did obtain my goals. Gradually, they became a natural part of my life, which was one of my wishes. 

         My first goal that year was the most important, to become more spiritual. Those around me laughed, wondering how I could improve my already strong spirituality. I knew there was much more out there! I began to take classes, read religious works and volunteered often in religious instruction. I laughed to myself one day, realizing I was facilitating four classes a week. l enjoyed my audiences, ranging from age seven to those over 65 years old. I have loved those I have gotten to know, richly benefitting from their own spirituality.
        God continues to bless each and everyone one of us with His own Spirit. He has created us to be individuals, where the teaching and learning from one another never ends!

NICOLAS

NICOLAS

Have I told you about 17 year old Nicolas?  He was snowboarding, hit a slick part on the hill, slamming into a tree, head first.  Being in a coma for four days was a scary time for family and friends.  Coming to on the fifth day was most exciting. But, his battle is far from over.  Though he can walk and talk, his memory is scarce. A hospital visit brings recognition, but, he cannot remember so many things. He is an artist, with his work featured on Santa Fe's poster for the Winter Spanish Market.  Sadly, on the day of poster signing, he was in the hospital. The good news is that he will get to leave the hospital day after tomorrow, going home to sleep in his own bed!  But, he can't return to school yet.  He still has a lot of hard work ahead of him. His memory has to return. Though therapies will help, our prayers will help even more so. Please ask our Lord to let the Holy Spirit give more strength and love  to Nicolas, in multitude, so that he may live the life of a teenager once again!

SILENT NIGHT

As I heard my daughter sing "Silent Night" as a solo in Church tonight, it brought me back to her birth.  She was born eight weeks early.  I was told I would be flown to the nearest hospital having the facilities to help an infant not yet developed enough to be born. On the night of her birth, the doctor told me females are stronger than the males, from the moment of birth, she would have a chance to live.  What a journey it was!  I never knew from one hour to the next what her state of being was.  At times, it was quite precarious; other times, she was stable. The nurses and doctors in intensive care were fantastic, ever so patient and kind.
 Her little feet were black from all the blood transfusions. The IV was in her scalp, the easiest place to find a vein. I never, ever gave up hope.  I knew God was with her and me; that everything would be alright.  It was a long journey, seeing those shut eyes at birth, wondering when they would open, as if she was a kitten. What big, brown eyes they were on the day she looked at me!
She was in terrible pain; one time; once she cried for 19 hours in my arms, as we sat in our living room. The next day, her painful cries were silent, as her tiny voice had given out.
The journey continued for many years, not knowing what would happen next.  Now, she is this lovely young adult, a singing voice waking up everyone between here and heaven. She has no signs of an early birth. Recently, we were sharing her early birth with those who had been touched by her voice.  What a shock it was.  It is truly a miracle of God. He is now sharing one of His many miracles. She is alive and sharing the Spirit of God with many, through a first soprano voice which moves the young and old alike. One man in a wheelchair came up to her recently, saying he would follow her wherever she goes. At the same time, the teenager giving the most grief in a class came up to her to say how she affects him. Always share the gifts of God.  One never knows who will be touched!