Happy Birthday Dandelionmom!!

Believing hear, what you deserve to hear:
Your birthday as my own to me is dear…
But yours gives most; for mine did only lend
Me to the world; yours gave to me a friend. ~ Martial ~

Happy birthday to my totally cool, incredibly funny and exceptionally wise friend!

Guess What I Did Last Saturday?

So, how many of my dear readers have heard of the Red Hat Society? Yes, yes…I know it’s a usually thought of as a club for ladies older than myself and, to be honest, I was the youngest gal at the meeting I attended on Saturday. But, let me tell you, that was one fun group of “older” (sorry Oma and Jan) ladies! We toured an historic home in the area, then had lunch at a restaurant that’s been around since 1950. What an interesting and nice group of woman! They even invited me to be the token “pink lady” of their group. You see, a girl has to be at least 50 years old to be able to wear a RED hat. That’s also the age at which one is allowed to wear the signature purple clothing. Younger women are welcome in the group, but are asked to wear pink hats and lavender clothing until they reach the age of…umm…well…until they reach the age of 50. Pink and lavender are fine, I guess. But they’re nothing compared to red and purple. Wouldn’t you agree, my friends? Yes, I’m looking forward to the day (which is still six and a half long years away) when I can don a cute red hat (I’m thinking one of those tiny cowboy hats you sometimes see at the birthday parties of very young children ) and join the ranks of the Red Hatters!

A Song for Ethan

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about my biggest boy, Ethan. In part that’s because another of my sons, Henry, has been so much on my mind these days, and in many ways the two brothers remind me of each other. But I’ve also been thinking about my eldest son for another reason. Because this man cub of mine chooses not to abide by the rules of the Shoe, it probably won’t be too long before he leaves this comfy nest of ours. But Ethan is no longer a child. He’s a young man now, an adult, with his own ideas, and hopes and dreams. He’s ready to set off on his own, to seek his fortune, to test those eager wings of his. And that is as it should be. Children are supposed to separate from their parents. But I still can’t help feeling a little sadness at how quickly the time has passed. I can’t help mourning the end of my first son’s childhood. I can’t help being concerned for his well-being. I can’t help wishing that he was still all mine.

I wrote the (not so great – even with the music) song below while I was grocery shopping one night when Ethan was around four or five years old. It will be quite obvious when you read it that I was shopping alone – sans kiddos. Otherwise the words wouldn’t have been so sweet. The funny thing is that the words I wrote that night, 13 or 14 years ago, are just as true today. Perhaps, in a way, they are more true. I wonder, mother friends of mine, if any of our dear children will ever know just how much we love them.

A Song for Ethan

Oh I don’t think you know how I love you
I hope that someday you will
understand why at night
when the whole house is quiet
I come to your room and I watch as you sleep.

And most times as I stand there in darkness
your soft sighs, like a song, fill the air.
Oh I say a prayer
and I ask God to hold you
and keep you safe in His loving embrace.

No, I don’t think you know how I love you
I hope that someday you will
understand why at night
when this old house is quiet
I come to your room and I watch as you sleep.

And sometimes I will lie down beside you
and I’ll kiss your sweet little boy brow
and long for the time
when I carried you safely inside of me.
When you were all mine.

Oh, I don’t think you know how I love you….

There’s No Place Like Home

In the commotion of the past couple of weeks I’ve neglected to announce an important and most exciting change in the Shoe household. Our Henry is no longer a public school kid. We withdrew him last Tuesday and have resumed educating him at home. I think we’re all going to be much happier this way.

Henry was doing well academically and his behavior (at school), while not the best, was definitely not the worst. But the poor boy was stressed beyond belief! And the stress manifested itself as pure naughtiness at home. He was becoming aggressive, disobedient, and more impulsive than ever. He was easily angered, whiney and cried about the smallest of things. And it took hours (sometimes days) to calm him back down once he’d worked himself into a tizzy – which was almost every school day. He wasn’t eating well either, and I think it showed in his physical appearance. He had dark circles under his eyes and his skin allergies were worse than they have ever been. So we did what any parent who knows that homeschooling is a perfectly acceptable option to traditional schooling (and who actually has that option) would do. We brought the little guy home!

I must say that we’ve already seen a HUGE improvement in Henry. He’s much, much nicer to be around. He’s eating better, sleeping better and behaving better. He’s whining much less and I don’t think he’s cried at all this past week. The dark circles are gone and, while his nasty skin rash remains, I do think it looks less severe than before. Henry told me that he likes being home because he can concentrate better and because he doesn’t have to worry about kids being mean to him on the playground. I like him being home because he’s safe and happy here. And because I love teaching kids to read!

For my sweet, artistic, sensitive Hankie there truly is no place like home. Perhaps one day that will change. For now things are fine just the way they are.

A Prayer Before I Go to Bed

May He support us all day long, till the shades lengthen and the evening comes, and the busy world is hushed, and the fever of life is over, and our work is done. Then in His mercy may He give us a safe lodging, and a holy rest and peace at last. Complete Thy work, O Lord, and as Thou hast loved me from the beginning so make me to love Thee unto the end. ~ Cardinal John Henry Newman

Does the beauty of that bring tears to the eyes of anyone besides me? Or is it, perhaps, that I’m just a tad hormonal?

Good night, my friends!

Simple Pleasures

Confession
Meeting my cyber-twin
Sharing grief
Laughter
Tears
My childrens’ happiness
Being with people
Connection
Serving others
Allowing others to serve me
The kindness of strangers
Good conversation
A book club meeting
Having something to say
Sacramental moments
Hugs
A haircut
Secrets shared
Hanging out with Mrs. Wiggins
Red Hat Society ladies
Making new friends
Old friends
Sharing lunch
Pie
Being asked to come again
Finding the bright side
Wisdom
Three cold beers in the fridge
Holding Mamie’s hand
Mass at the Cathedral
Pizza with Old Man
Beautiful music
Reading
A warm, sunny day
Chocolate
Looking ahead
Freshly bathed children
My husband’s whispered “I love you.”
Clara’s sweet songs
Knowing all is well
Grace
Love all around me

A Prayer for Right Living

I came across this prayer in the book (A Faith for Grown-Ups: A Midlife Conversation About What Really Matters by Robert Lockwood) that I mentioned in the post preceding this one. It’s “the awful grace of God” in other words, I think.

A Prayer for Right Living by an unknown Confederate soldier

I asked for strength that I might achieve; I was made weak that I might learn to humbly obey. I asked for health that I might do greater things; I was given infirmity that I might do better things. I asked for riches that I might be happy; I was given poverty that I might be wise. I asked for power that I might have the great praise of men; I was given weakness that I might feel the need of God. I asked for all things that I might enjoy life; I was given life that I might enjoy all things. I got nothing I had asked for, but everything that I had hoped for. Almost despite myself my unspoken prayers were answered; I am, among all men, richly blessed.

It’s a good one, huh?

The Awful Grace of God Revisited

He who learns must suffer. And even in our sleep pain that cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart, and in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. ~ Aeschylus

Several months ago I posted, somewhere on my blog, this quote by Aeschylus, who was an ancient Greek playwright often recognized as the father of tragedy. I’ve been thinking a lot about suffering lately. It started with a good wallow in my own grief over my recent miscarriages, which soon led to an examination of the suffering of others. I didn’t seek out the stories of the challenges and pain in the lives of the people around me. The stories found me. Stories of the untimely deaths of babies, and husbands and adult children. Stories of lost dreams, lost parents, lost fertility and lost opportunities. Sad stories, indeed. But the people telling them weren’t sad people. On the contrary. The people I’ve been talking to are happy, hopeful people – people aware of the blessings in their lives, people who know God’s grace when it kicks them in the stomach. We don’t usually think of suffering as a gift, do we? Pain as grace is an awfully strange idea. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t true.

I just finished reading a book called A Faith For Grown-Ups by Robert Lockwood. In it he quotes The Teaching of Christ, pages 328-329: “Every kind of gift by which God moves us toward knowing Him and sharing His life is grace. Devoted parents, faithful friends, good books, great music – indeed anything at all may be used by God to lead toward life.” Anything that moves us closer to God is grace. Anything. So we’re not just talking about the stuff that brings us happiness and joy – although grace can be, and certainly is, found in those things. It just seems that, for many people, suffering accomplishes a task at which joy often fails. Yes, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom to us by the awful grace of God. And the best thing about wisdom is that it increases our chances of attaining holiness. Perhaps that is why those friends of mine – the ones who had such sad tales to tell – seem to be so happy and hopeful, so grateful and content. Perhaps it’s why I’m able to thank God for taking my little ones to be with Him so soon. In our own despair, against our will we’ve been set on the right path – and we know it. We’ve all been given the opportunity for sanctity through the awful grace of God.

Sadness in the Shoe

It is with great sorrow that I announce that the baby we were expecting in August has passed away. The little one, who had a good strong heartbeat 2 weeks ago, did not have one yesterday. According to ultrasound measurements it appears that the baby died 7 – 10 days ago. I’m scheduled for a D&C tomorrow evening. Until last October I had never had a miscarriage. Now I’ve had two in a mere three and a half month period. My heart is heavy with grief, and yet I’m more aware than ever of the warmth and comfort of Our Father’s loving embrace. Again, my friends, I humbly ask for your prayers during this sorrowful time. And I pray that God is with with each and every one of you.

Edited to say:
My children are completely unaware of my most recent pregnancy and miscarriage. I’d like it to remain that way – for the time being, anyway. So if anyone reading this knows my kids I ask that you please refrain from mentioning to them what you’ve read in this post. Thank you so much.

Old Woman

Saint Jude, Pray for Us: Desperate Times Call for Desperate Measures

I’ve been Catholic for almost 13 years now and I’ve never prayed a novena. I don’t know why that is exactly. I mean, I do know that the idea seemed a little strange to me – not bad strange, just unfamiliar, a little foreign. Still, I don’t think that was what was holding me back. I’m starting to think that, until now, I’ve simply never felt desperate enough to request a saint’s intercession in such a formal way. I have, in the course of my life, also rarely asked for the prayers of my earthly friends. I know it’s silly, but it has always felt a little uncomfortable – even embarrassing – to me. But desperate times really do call for desperate measures, and I am now humbly asking for your prayers, my friends. Please pray for the Shoe family’s financial situation – specifically that Old Man’s insurance sales job soon begins to provide an adequate income for us. If you feel so inclined, please join my family and my dear friend, Oma, in the novena to St. Jude (patron of seemingly hopeless causes) that we started yesterday. We’ll pray it each day for nine days, which means we’ve still got eight days to go. I doubt St. Jude would mind if some of the prayer group finished a day or so behind us, so please join in if you feel called to do so.

Novena to Saint Jude

Most holy Apostle, St. Jude, faithful servant and friend of Jesus, the Church honors and invokes you universally, as the patron of difficult cases, of things almost despaired of, Pray for me, I am so helpless and alone.
Intercede with God for me that He bring visible and speedy help where help is almost despaired of. Come to my assistance in this great need that I may receive the consolation and help of heaven in all my necessities, tribulations, and sufferings, particularly that Old Man’s insurance sales job quickly begins to provide an adequate income for our family, and that I may praise God with you and all the saints forever. I promise, O Blessed St. Jude, to be ever mindful of this great favor granted me by God and to always honor you as my special and powerful patron, and to gratefully encourage devotion to you.

Amen

PRAYER

May the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus be adored, and loved in all the tabernacles until the end of time. Amen.

May the most Sacred Heart of Jesus be praised and glorified now and forever. Amen

St. Jude pray for us and hear our prayers. Amen.

Blessed be the Sacred Heart of Jesus
Blessed be the Immaculate Heart of Mary
Blessed be St. Jude Thaddeus, in all the world and for all Eternity. Amen

Finish with these prayers.

Our Father
Hail Mary
Prayer to St. Michael
Glory Be