Acts of Love

Am I the only one who finds cooking for others therapeutic? I cooked up a big batch of butternut squash soup for my Mom today. It was ready at lunch so I gave my 4 favourite taste testers a bowl (and saved some for my lovely husband because,  well, I love him and he loves soup). It was a big hit. Baby girl gobbled every bite down without a complaint.  A nice lift for me considering how fussy she can be. Adding shredded cheese makes everything amazing I guess. I was able to bring a few days worth of the soup for my Mom when we visited today so Dad could go to some appointments.

We stayed with her for 4 hours today. Mostly she slept, but the kids and I hung out in her bedroom and watched random Netflix while she faded in and out. She has hospital bed in their bedroom, plus a nice love seat for visitors and their big king sized bed facing her hospital bed. Even though she was too tired to chat like old times, she watched joyfully as the big kids bounced on the big bed across from her and baby boy played in his exersaucer. Once she fell asleep we just stayed with her. The kids didn't want to leave her room. I caught their eyes watching her rest, and they were happy.  They have been asking to visit her, just to be around her. As we got ready to leave they all got their cuddles. I cooked, they cuddled.

Dad sent me home with the ingredients for beef barley soup my Mom never got around to making. I can't do much,  but I can do this for them. Cancer can work its quiet evil, but the kids will give their love and I'll give my time and love, a little thank you for 30 years of motherhood. This time in the form of food and company.  It's funny this feeling of wanting to do something.  We all get it. We can't control the situation or take away the pain, so we do what we can. We do small tasks to take a little pressure off for others. We move our pebbles, praying for the strength to move mountains. We hope our little acts will be seen for what they are, love and gratitude.

Family Ties

I come from a crazy sort of family. Don't we all? We have our inside stories, our tall tales (that everyone remembers differently), our larger than life characters, and a healthy dose of food and fighting. Over the years we've grown together and apart in many ways, both geographically and emotionally. The 5 of us have been through thick and thin, and while there have been times each of us has been tempted to hang up the phone and never call back, we keep coming back because, in the end, family is family. No one else has such an important part in our story as our family, be it the one we're given as a child or the one we build in a lifetime of vows, knotting us together. I say knot instead of weave because you can easily cut something woven so it frays and falls apart, but with a knot you can cut all around it and still the knot will remain, fighting attempts to untie it.

In that way, I'm a knot tied into my parents' lives, like a Hail Mary on one of my Mom's favourite rope rosaries, part of a circle of knots, leading up to the Cross. They chose to make the knot that is my life, against the better judgements of doctors. They chose to keep the knot of my life, holding it fast as it nearly untied several times. They did the same with both of my brothers. As the world pulled against us, each knot got tighter, stronger, and harder to untie. Our parents fought for us, protected us, and rejoice to let us stand alone when we were ready.

Now here I am with my own husband, tying our own chain of knots, each a little Hail Mary, their own decade in a litany of answered prayers. As our whole family takes our turn coming to the Cross, we are united and clinging fast to each other.  We are not coming unravelled, but each growing stronger as the tension tries and fails to untie our chain of knots. We hold fast to our family ties. Our lives become a prayer of trust and devotion, so ordinary and extraordinary that we get lost in rhythm. One knot after another. One day after another. Each life, each moment precious.

Life in the Dog House

I know we're only a few days in,  but I am honestly surprised at how well things are going with our new pup. We've been waking up earlier as a family to make sure she has a good routine for walks. It's been tough crawling out of bed for me, but the kids love it. We're using those extra hours in the morning to do more school work on full tummies. When big girl gets frustrated or tired, we can stop and know she can start up again later. I'm already seeing improvements in her spelling and sentence structure from her early morning composition practice.

We've always built in some special bonding time with the kids because of our pooch. My husband is doing all her walks, and he's taking a different kid for her pre supper walk each day. The kids are over the moon about their turn to walk with Sadie and Daddy. They're completely in love with her, but are also giving her the space she needs. When she comes to them, they beam with pride that Sadie loves them. She is truly adored by them and, because she's such a sweet lazy bum, she's not adding to my work load at all. Hubby is the boss of walks and feeding.  The kids and I are the ones who get to enjoy watching her nap and give her treats.

When we adopted our gal, we were warned there would be an adjustment period. She might not eat, she might have (to be polite) digestive problems, she might be jittery with the kids, etc. I can say in all honesty the only problem we have had was a little whimpering in her crate at night because she was lonely. Even that was cleared up with some firm words from upstairs. Just enough to know we were there and she was safe.

I know things won't always be this easy, but I am convinced our Sadie is a perfect fit for our family.  This morning when she playfully nuzzled up to me, tail wagging and ears flopping, I got the sense she feels the same way too.

Grade 1: First Day of School

As is our tradition we spent our first day of school on a field trip. My husband took the day off and we headed to the zoo. It was also Big Girl's 6th birthday so it was nice to celebrate as a family. Because there had been a storm the day before the animals were anxious to dry out and stretch their legs, so we got to see all of them. The highlights included seeing a lion very close up (for my husband and I), petting the llamas (baby girl), the koi pond (middle boy), the white monkeys and tigers (big girl) and the meerkats (biggest boy). Big girl made her first school project journaling about her trip. She drew some great pictures (I shared two of them below) and wrote about her experience.  It was a nice way to see what she really thought of the day. All in all it was a great start to the year.

Puppy Love

The pictures essentially speak for themselves. We finally took the plunge and adopted a dog. This 2 year old gal is Sadie and she's a retired racing greyhound from Florida. We were fortunate to be placed with her by the good folks at the Greyhound Pets of Atlantic Canada. They have a extensive adoption process to make sure the right dog is placed with the right family. I am pleased to say our Sadie is a perfect fit. She's very calm and is very sweet with the kids. It's not every dog that can handle the noise and activity of five small children.

So, welcome home Sadie!

Good News in Bad Times

This month my family received some bad news. After months of watching my mother's health deteriorate without a clear reason, she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma, an incurable form of blood cancer. We don't have a prognosis for her yet, and we won't until after she sees a haematologist. In the mean time, we're all doing our best to stay positive, and stay away from google. There are lots of new and innovative treatments that can give patients who respond well many years of symptom-free living. With that in mind there's still a lot of hope in these dark days.

One of the things I've realized in all of this is how lucky we are to have our faith. I have found myself turning to God for strength and as always He outdoes me in generosity. I haven't felt moved to the anger I would have expected considering the circumstances. I know I could easily get angry, shout at God, or get dragged down in thoughts of "why my family???". When I first heard the diagnosis I had one moment of sadness, a taste of the abiding grief that comes with losing a loved one. And then I took a deep breath and layed my sorrows in God's hands with complete trust. I realize that God didn't make my Mom sick. That's not how these things work. I know that if it is God's will my Mom will be healed. I also know that if He allows her to follow the more painful road of suffering, it won't be because He doesn't love her. I know God loves my mother immensely. I have witnessed first hand how precious she is to Him. Over the years, God has carried her through so many struggles (not the least of which was raising us three crazy kids). She has always found a way to put her suffering aside to find room for love, charity, and joy. If you knew my mother's whole story, you wouldn't believe that she should be as cheerful as she is. By the world's standards, she should be bitter, especially now as yet another struggle comes to her. But she's not. If my mother has taught me nothing else, she has taught me that nothing is too big (or too small) to lay in God's hands. I have watched her time and again choose love and forgiveness instead of anger and bitterness. When we say the prayer "forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us", she is one of the few people I know who can stand in good measure as always forgiving as much as she can and then some. How many of us hold on to grudges over the silliest things? I have seen her forgive those little things, but also hurts of such incredible magnitude. She has been wounded, but she is not wounded. She trusts in God. This is her greatest lesson. Although I wish more of her craftiness and creativity had rubbed off on me, I can't deny how blessed I have been by her example of child-like faith. Just like my kids trust that my kisses can fix their boo-boos, she trusts that there is not hurt God's love can't take the sting out of.

Regardless of what happens, I want to be that example of faith to my children. If my Mom is healed, we'll all throw the biggest part this world has seen since Pentecost. If that's not in God's plan, we'll stand together and lean on Him, and make the most of however much time she is given with us. Whether it be a year or twenty years, whenever she makes her journey to Heaven, I hope we can find a little more of her faith and joy to bide us through our days. God willing that won't be for a good long time.

Vocations

It is my firm belief that God has a plan for every person, and that His plan for each of us includes a vocation. For each of us, that vocation is as unique as we are. Discovering what are vocation is, and therefore our place in God's plan, is the key to our happiness in this life. Life is never perfect, and we are all faced with challenges and struggles, but within the context of our vocation we can still thrive and find peace. In my own life, my journey to discover my particular vocation has led me all the way to Rome and back, through years of discernment and prayer. So long as I followed the call of God in my life, I have found deep reward and consolation, even in my trials. Those times when I let my eyes turn from God, I have come so close to losing myself all I could see was darkness.

God has led me along a path that has felt so winding and long, but in the end, was always aiming me towards my final goal of Heaven. He led me to World Youth Day, where I went for essentially a cool trip, and I found Jesus for the first time. While there I met the man (then not even a priest) who would one day become the Superior of the Franciscans in my city. I also met a young priest who first planted the seed that a vocation to the religious would be an incredible way to give my heart to this Jesus I had just met. Later on when a new order of Franciscans started in my city, I was still discerning religious life, so that same young priest recommend me to the Superior, who invited me to join the community. I gave myself wholeheartedly to the task of learning the Franciscan life, and, against my own will and plan, fell in love with a man as I fell even more in love with Jesus. I had been so convinced of my vocation as a sister, I had a hard time seeing the truth in front of me. I was so afraid that this was my great temptation and I was being led away from my true vocation. The more I prayed the more clear it became. I had seen the hand of the devil at work in my life over the years, and this wasn't it. This was pure and from God. The timing wasn't exactly perfect in the eyes of the world (Why couldn't we have met at World Youth Day? We had both been there together with the same group. I even met his brother!), but God knew what he was doing. He knew we had things we needed to learn. He knew that for the life He had planned for us, we would need years of spiritual training, and a taste for the spiritual beauty of trusting in Providence. Our time with the Franciscans has also given us a spiritual support network we have needed so dearly over our years together. While we may not be a Brother and Sister anymore, in our hearts that community will always be our spiritual home and they will always be our family. (And don't tell the good Father, but I find myself hard pressed to forget my promise of obedience to him, haha)

I know our children are still so young, but when I look back and see what a long road it took to find my vocation, it reminds me to teach them to follow God's voice in their heart. I want to teach them that He knows the best, and to always give of themselves without fear. Just like the Gospel from a few weeks ago, He won't give them a scorpion, but bread, the Bread of Life. I would be incredibly proud if one, two or even all of our children find their vocations in religious life and the priesthood. I would be equally proud if they all get married and find Jesus in the heart of another person. I try not to press them, but to encourage them in whatever their heart is leading them to right now. There is nothing sweeter than my biggest boy playing Mass (with his actual chalice and ciborium gifted to him by his Godfather), telling me about how he's going to be a priest when he's "a man". He may not end up a priest, but I hope he always wants to give his heart and life to Jesus. I will never promise him life will be easy, but that Christ will always be with him, and that there is a plan for him.