The World is too Slow for Me

Girls in a garden

Being involved in a sports organization is so exciting when I can contribute my ideas to help make it run better for my children. However, being just one wheel on the train I have to wait for all those other wheels to turn along with me! For me to do my job I have to wait for people to return my calls or emails and get me the information I need.

Patience is not a virtue I was born with. Like I teach my girls in Little Flowers, the virtues must be perfected by practicing them. If you don’t feel cheerful, start with an outward smile, and you are on your way to perfecting the virtue of Cheerfulness. So every day I pray for the patience I need for dealing with all the challenges of motherhood. Even when I feel impatient, I try to act patient; at the very least I give the outward appearance of calm, which is contagious to those around me.

As the week progressed, I was feeling rather dubious about presenting the virtue of Piety to my Little Flowers group. With all my pent-up feelings of impatience, I felt like I was the last person to be representing this virtue.

On Friday morning I brought a softball flyer down to Staples to be copied. It sounds like a simple task but I was surprised at all the complications: (1) getting approval from the school district to distribute it in the classrooms; (2) finding out how to pay for the copies through the treasury; (3) about 20 minute questions from the photocopying manager before she could get me a quote on the cost. I brought the flyer down and thought I was done. Then she asked me if I want plain white or the league color (green)?

I had to agree that my flyer looked lovely in green. But I didn’t know what the rules were for handing out flyers in the school; would a colored background be acceptable? My cell phone had lost its charge. So I told her to hold the order until I could get confirmation from my supervisor. I went home and emailed him the question.

An hour went by and I became increasingly impatient. Staples had enough collators that morning to get the job done before a big snowstorm came in; and I was planning on taking my kids ice skating when they got home from their half day at school. “He’s probably busy at work and doesn’t want to be pestered with this stupid question about green or white”, I thought. So I put in a call to the school district and found out that background color is fine.

I emailed him again saying, “School district says color is fine. I’m going with green unless you tell me otherwise”, waited five minutes, and called the lady to say we had decided on green. “That’s great,” she said, and I hung up.

Then I got the reply to my first email, “White”.

So I called her again. “I’m really sorry, but I just got the reply from my supervisor. We will have to go with white.”

“Don’t worry about it – I didn’t start yet,” she said.

Then I got a reply to my second email, “Green is great.”

We finally confirmed the decision through a telephone conversation. “Green would be nice, but if you don’t want to call her again I understand,” he said.

But I really liked the idea of the green flyer, so I called the lady one more time. “I promise you I’m not crazy,” I pleaded, “But I just got permission from the district that I can use green. I promise you I won’t change my mind again.”

“Well, we’ll see about that,” she replied, but with a good-natured tone.

With an hour to go before the kids got home, I sat down to go over my lesson plans for Little Flowers. I opened up the book and was pleasantly surprised…

I started my lesson by asking all the girls what they thought piety was, or how a pious person should act. The picture they all seemed to have was of a really serious, straight-faced person who prays and talks about religion all the time. Then I told them that that was what I thought too, and that I had thought I was the last person who should be presenting this lesson. I shared with them the green-or-white story. Then I told them what piety really is.

From “The Catholic Girl’s Guide”, edited by Fr. Francis X. Lasance:

“The genuine flower of piety is no mere sentimentalism and does not consist in a multitude of pious practices. If you would be truly pious, do everything you have to do as a service done to God. We see true piety to be an interior frame of mind or disposition, a love which comes from within and gives life to everything which is without. Or it is the active love of God which makes men eschew evil, do good, and endure suffering. An unmistakable mark of true piety is that it makes its possessor cheerful and merry. How indeed could it be otherwise? Who has more reason to be cheerful than a truly pious young girl? Who can look up to heaven with more confidence?”

I said that because I was acting out of devotion to my children, which springs from the love of God, my actions of the week could be seen as actions of piety. Whatever they are called to do on a given day, if they do it out of the sincerity of their hearts and through love of God and neighbor, they are practicing the virtue of piety.

I got home to an email from Staples. She had gotten the order done in half the time she had estimated – either she was nervous about the snowstorm or she didn’t want to give me a chance to change my mind again!

High Demand

As the kids continue to grow older and more independent, I have had more time to spend on other projects. While I avoided volunteer work during the newborn stage, I started last year to start saying “yes” to more things, and to sometimes even throw my hat in the ring just because I knew my kind of talent was needed. I always make sure I am putting my time into an interest that will also benefit my children – teaching their religion class, coaching their sport, or putting my organizational skills to work in their sports organization.

For the first time, I allowed my children to take part in winter sports this year, and I am still wondering if that was a good idea. I always liked to take a little time off from all that running around; to enjoy Advent, and my daughter’s birthday, which falls around Christmas. I usually read a nice long book in January, and then do some serious writing. This year I have not had the leisure to either read or write at any great length.

Although we have quite a busy schedule, when we are all together in the house sometimes it feels like I am no longer needed by them in a direct manner. Then suddenly one of them comes to me for help and I am very pleased. The only problem is that this always seems to happen to all the kids at the very same time.

Today my eldest daughter, who practically taught herself while we were homeschooling and catches on to math skills quite easily, came to me for help with her algebraic inequalities. It took about an hour to explain things to her. During this hour, my three-year old daughter continually came asking for me to play a game for her; my eight-year-old son kept asking for advice on a picture he was working on; and my eleven-year-old started crying for no apparent reason.

Done with the primary task at hand, I went on to my second daughter, asking yes or no questions to try to get at the cause of her crying. I finally got at it – she had come home with a C on a test about primes and composites and was afraid to tell me. Note that this is the same teacher who had not properly explained things to my older daughter. So I explained to her that if she didn’t get the math concept it wasn’t her fault, and we worked on understanding the test together.

My son didn’t really need my help; he was just responding to the high needs of everyone else around him and demanding his own piece of me. My three-year-old gets more than her fair share of my attention and needs to learn to wait her turn.

During this time, somebody ate all of my husband’s oatmeal cookies and all of the apples that were supposed to go with the lunches for tomorrow. My husband arrived home, ate the dinner plate I had prepared for him, and asked how I could allow that to happen!

“I don’t know. It’s my writing night,” I replied, and took my laptop upstairs to write this little piece.

Psalms
Chapter 131
1
A song of ascents. Of David. LORD, my heart is not proud; nor are my eyes haughty. I do not busy myself with great matters, with things too sublime for me.
2
Rather, I have stilled my soul, hushed it like a weaned child. Like a weaned child on its mother's lap, so is my soul within me.
3
Israel, hope in the LORD, now and forever.

Painting above: “Lotte (Werther’s Leiden)” by Wilhelm Von Kaulbach

Grace Under Pressure

I woke up this morning to a migraine headache, something I get a few times a year, usually when a cold front is coming through and smashing up against a warm front. I was thankful that I had a few hours before I had to go pick up the kids from school and drive them way out east for a basketball game.

I managed to consume a banana and a cup of tea so I wouldn’t have to take analgesics on an empty stomach. Then I snuggled up with my toddler on the couch and watched a Thomas the Tank Engine video.

She roused me at the end of the video and I realized it was time to go. I felt absolutely nauseous and was not sure how I could possibly drive. “Go get your hairbrush,” I told her.

She was on her way up the stairs, when she complained, “I think there’s something stuck in my nose.”

Thinking it was a “boogie”, I stuck my finger in her nostril to see if I could clear whatever was bothering her. I didn’t feel anything.

“There’s nothing in there,” I said.

“There’s something stuck in there!” she insisted.

So I placed her on the couch and looked up her nose. She was right. There was a miniature jingle bell stuck up her nose. I hadn’t seen this happen since my eldest was two and had stuck a bead up her nose; it had required a visit to the pediatrician to remove it.

I looked up at the clock nervously. If I couldn’t get it out, maybe the school nurse would remove it for me. I picked up a tweezer and a toothpick, random items left on top of the microwave.

The toothpick fit perfectly into the hole in the jingle bell, and it came smoothly out. She seemed to suffer no discomfort. “Phew!” Suddenly my nausea was gone. That fight-or-flight hormone adrenaline had kicked it out of my system. Thank God.

As we drove, I felt the pain in my right eye gradually dull, fading into my sinuses. We stopped at a light and the sun peaked out of the clouds at me. I found myself thanking the Lord for the headache, which had reminded me that I always need to ask for His Grace to get through a busy day of being a mom.

It was a long drive. When we arrived, the coach went into the gym and came out to tell us that, due to a drama rehearsal, the game was being delayed for a half hour. We were welcome to hang out in the snow-covered parking lot in the meantime. I realized we had forgotten to bring water. We took our extra time to go to McDonald’s for some nuggets and shakes. At least dinner was out of the way for the night.

The game started with the other team ahead. Finally, a close game, one worth watching, I thought. We had been undefeated, and none of the other teams had given us much of a challenge. I soon realized that the other team was composed of experienced eighth graders, towering over our mixed team of sixth, seventh, and eighth graders. By half-time it became apparent that we might be in for our first loss.

Our poor girls really suffered at the hands of the opposing team. There was scratching, slapping, kicking, elbowing…not a girl escaped without a mark to her face or body. Sure, they had fouls issued, but the damage was already done.

So we walked away from our first loss, bruised in body and ego, but knowing we had played by the rules and done our best. Kudos to the coaches as well, for giving all the sixth graders some playing time even when we were behind. I am sure every parent drove home giving their children lessons to be learned about sportsmanship even in the face of the lack of the same from the other team.

Some days just aren’t that great…but we can still glean some great thoughts from them. Like when you get a gift that is hard to appreciate at Christmas, but then you still remember it’s a gift. Every day in this walk is a gift, and with our children in them they are all golden.

Picture above is from a game played in Dec. 2009 - both teams displayed good sportsmanship in that game.

A Review of “Poet”: Forty Poems by Paul Gerard Dextraze

Paul Gerard Dextraze has self-published a book of his forty poems. Originally the purpose of his book was to preserve them as a legacy for his grandchildren and great-grandchildren. However, as he began to share his writing with his friends he was encouraged to publish his work for the enjoyment of others. He sought out beautiful photographs to complement the subjects of his poems, obtained permission from the photographers to share them, and printed up his book. The purpose of the book was to share his gift with others as a blessing.

Paul’s poems follow the traditional rhyme with rhythm. Most of the poems are in quadrants, either with rhyming couplets or with every other line rhyming with each other. I found this to be a refreshing change from the often confusing ramble of non-traditional poetry. There is even a poem on “Modern Poetry” that discusses this pet-peeve of classic poets.

The poems are on a multitude of topics that hit the high and low notes of every emotion. The humourous poems made me laugh out loud. The sad poems bring tears to the eye but, unlike the poems of Robert Frost, they still have an undercurrent of joy.

Section I, entitled “Humour”, discusses the writing of poetry, animals, aliens, and chastity (in a play of words entitled “Unchased Virgin”). The last of these is followed up by a cartoon in the back of the book in which a reader, puzzled, asks, “Doesn’t he know how to spell ‘Unchaste’? Oh wait - I get it!”

Section II, “Nature”, is a collection of lovely poems about various animals, accompanied by colorful photographs. Even my three-year-old was delighted by them. With the author’s permission, I quote the shortest of them…

A Northern Cardinal Visits a Fool (By Paul Gerard Dextraze)

December rose, I dare to ask
The reason why you wear a mask –
To shield your eyes when snows are bright?
Chip! He says, and takes to flight.

Section III, “Sorrow”, delves into Christ’s life and death, and personal pain. Section IV, “Grief” is composed of some tear-wrenching poems about the loss of a child. Section V, “God’s Love”, shares the omnipresence of God throughout our trials. Section VI, “Rejoicing”, celebrates autumn and Christ’s sacrifice. Section VII, “ Romantic Love”, brings to mind Shakespearean love poetry; it includes a chaste look at marital love. Section VIII, “Love of Child”, covers both the joy of a parent in his or her child and the sorrow of a child who has passed on. Section IX, “In Defense of Babies”, has both an anti-abortion poem and a poem rejoicing in pregnancy.

Anyone interested in this quality book of poetry may email Paul at callmedex@comcast.net for the free pdf. A limited number of free hard-copies of his book are available for serious poetry fans.

The picture above is taken from the cover of the poetry book. This picture was taken by Fred Walsh and is copyrighted to him. The link for this picture of the northern male cardinal is http://fredwalshphotos.blogspot.com/2009/03/northern-cardinal-male.html

For more of Fred Walsh’s beautiful photographs of birds, please visit his picture blog at http://fredwalshphotos.blogspot.com/

The Apple of my Eye

A Mother And Child In An Interior

Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings – Psalms 17:2

One of my very favorite things about being a stay-at-home mom is that mornings are so laid-back. The school-aged children know how to get themselves ready, and the bus stop is right at the end of my driveway. They kiss me and my husband goodbye and we go back to sleep, cozy and warm, until we are good and ready to start our day.

My three-year-old, now nap-free, goes to sleep at the same time as the older children and sleeps until around 9 a.m. She comes into our room and climbs between us, where we snuggle as our brains come to life.

On my husband’s side of the bed I have set up his favorite mementos: some Star Trek stuff, and a picture of our three older kids in front of the old Shea Stadium, circa 2005. Every time I dust, I think of replacing it with one that includes all the children, but I just can’t bring myself to put his beloved Shea away in a box.

This morning after my husband rolls out of bed she studies his personal belongings and declares, “Mommy, I not in there!”

I think about the significance of her statement.

He comes back over and I say, “Tell Daddy what you said about the picture.”

“Daddy, I not in there!”

“You weren’t born yet,” he explains.

“But - why I not in there?”

We are at a loss for words and answer by giving her some more morning snuggles.

An old saying comes back to me. Old friends of my parents used to say to me, “I knew you when you were the apple in your mother’s (or father’s) eye.” That statement puzzled me as a child. Then I learned in General Psychology that the pupils dilate when one is in the early stages of romantic attraction, and the saying became clear.

Although I always had the number four in my head for the number of children I would have, as a couple we have taken things one kid at a time. We never knew how many we would have – we still don’t know – but God always knew.

So in a larger sense, this little three-year-old was there in that picture. She was the apple in my eye, and in her father’s eye, and a plan in God’s eye. They always were, and always will be.

No heat in the middle of winter?

After our main heating unit broke down twice within three of the coldest days on Long Island this winter, I wondered what a family would do if they did not have a backup heating source, or a close friend or family member with whom to spend the night. Today's Examiner article tells the whole story of what happened to us, what we did, and what I suggest families do to have some kind of an emergency heat disaster plan.

My fears of freezing to death really were worse than the actual cold, and I was left feeling more sympathetic than ever toward those in the plight of having no shelter whatsoever in this weather.

Visions went through my head of the people who must have suffered in the camps at Krakow, Poland. I visited there when I was 18 and I can still remember the small, bare hovels. My imagination peopled those rooms with women and children, no meat on their bones, struggling to keep each other warm as snow came in the poor shelters.

We have so many comforts in our modern life, with much to be thankful for. If you are reading this on a computer, you are probably in a well-heated environment right now, with clean tap water within reach and something good to eat if you desire it. Say a pray of thanks.

Visit at a friend’s house

Sun and Moon Flowers

I park in front of my friend’s historic house and get my things together. My three-year-old is all excited to go to “Sissy’s” house. I’ve broken the rules of social engagements by inviting myself over, but my friend never minds. She lives right around the block from my children’s school, which is a half hour from my house. So whenever I am at the school volunteering, I give her a call and invite myself over. This time I am serving snack from 12 to 1, and have to be back again at 2:30 for a basketball game.

She usually puts out something nice for lunch, but I don’t want her to fuss, so we bring our own sandwiches and eat them in the car. When I arrive, I am glad that I did that, because she is still trying to get five minutes to eat her microwaved birthday dinner leftovers, as her two- and four- year-olds vie for her attention.

My three-year-old instantly makes herself at home, trying on Disney Princess dresses with Sissy and sipping “tea” while watching Little Bear. Every corner is a delightful discovery. In one corner is a writer’s desk, clear but for a laptop and a notebook. In another is a quaint table with antique tea cups – which kids are still allowed to use. On one wall you find an unused mantle where a life-sized china cat keeps watch over some dried flowers. Nearby on a Victorian-style couch lays a huge, long-haired, real white cat.

We alternate between sitting and getting up, as my friend attempts to eat something while her two-year-old, no longer restrained by gates, roams to far corners of the house asking for her help. The conversation doesn’t stop for anything – we have too much to cover in the course of an hour. Writing goals, personal dreams, childhood sicknesses, and housekeeping rants all need to be shared.

For an hour, I feel like a person with no required functions. I am just me, and my friend appreciates all that I have to offer without expecting me to actually do anything. Except listen.

It is over too fast, and it is heart-wrenching to have to force my three-year-old out of her Princess dress, leave her friends, and go out into the cold to go back to the school. For the next three days, she repeatedly pesters me, “Mommy, I want to be a Princess at Sissy’s house again.”

“Me too,” I reply.

Snow: A Lesson in Temporal Beauty

“Where’s my Frosty ?!?” I heard my three-year-old exclaim on Sunday morning, as she went downstairs for breakfast and looked out the back door.

We had had a blizzard the previous weekend, which left behind a record 26.3 inches of snow here on Long Island. The first day it was too dry to make a snowman and the older kids had spent much of the day making trails in the snow for her to walk through. By the third day, there was enough moisture for them to make large snowmen and even a snow bunny. My three-year-old had proudly put the finishing touches on the bunny, adding a purple scarf for it to stay “warm”.

After one week of white beauty, it rained – and rained – and rained – enough for most of all that snow to be washed away. All that was left of the snow creatures were sad little piles of hats and scarves; a carrot; and caps for dishwashing liquid that had served as green “eyes”.

The kids explained to her that Frosty had melted but that it would snow again soon and he would “come back to life someday”.

“IT’S…NOT…FAIR!” she screeched, so that I could hear her from the opposite end of the house upstairs.

When I came back downstairs, I tried again to explain it to her. “The things of this world fade away,” I quoted to the older children, which of course went over her head.

It’s a lesson that children quickly learn; one that can leave them feeling disenchanted, depending on how their parents handle it.

[Here my eleven-year-old hops on my computer and inserts what she thinks my thoughts must be. I leave it because I find it extremely amusing.] I think that it should snow when I want it to snow so I can be happy and have my children not messing the house around so it would be clean and peaceful. Until they come in the house again ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh it is messy again!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Here my twelve-year-old takes a hold of my keyboard and, like her younger sister, comes frighteningly close to the truth of how I feel.] Although the kids mess up the house when they come in from the snow, the peacefulness that I experience when they are out of the house is beyond amazing. Therefore I wish that it would snow anytime I wanted it to. I think that it should be impossible for the snow to come in the house, and then this world would be perfect! Oh yes, and one more addition. That the snow “creations” never melt so that I won’t have to ever hear that snow melting is not fair ever again!!!!!! [Children’s insertions end here.]

Knowing that the world is imperfect, we can find beauty in nature and admire its Creator, knowing that what He has planned for us in everlasting life is way beyond the glimpse He offers us here. We can show our children this, by praising the beauty given us, and letting them know that, although it does not last here on earth, there is a greater beauty beyond our imagination that will go on and on. Snow that does not melt and yet does not make us cold. Leaves that change color and yet do not die and fall to the ground. Greenery that does not make us sneeze and our eyes water.

The stability of the family the child grows up in is yet another glimpse for them into the security of God’s love. As parents we cannot be the perfect Father that God is, but we can give them our unconditional love; the comfort they need as they discover the pain that is inevitable in this world; and the nurturing of their childlike wonder that we should try our best to emulate.

Revolutionary Road: A Review with Spoilers

I find it impossible to review this movie without spoiling the ending for my readers. I have read numerous reviews on Christian sites, which seem to be afraid to talk about the main focus of the movie. Yet the topic of the movie – abortion – is something that the viewer will have wished he or she knew before going into it.

The star-crossed lovers of Titanic have reunited on the set, but their relationship is nothing to be admired. In the story based on the 1961 novel by Richard Yates and directed by Sam Mendes, Kate Winslet and Leonard DiCaprio play a husband and wife who have reached the stage of boredom in their 1950s upper-class suburban home in Connecticut. Two children float in and out of the picture, having no real roles but that of accessories, like the bland but elegant furniture in the large house in which they live on Revolutionary Road.

After starting his birthday with a marital argument with his wife April, Frank Wheeler seduces a young secretary at work. When he arrives home, there are tears in his eyes as his wife and children surprise him with a cake. Later, April convinces him that the way out of their unhappy situation is to sell all they own and move to Paris. There, she can take a good-paying job and he can find his purpose in life.

Setting a date for September, she purchases steamer tickets and puts the house up for sale. With some hope on the horizon, the couple seems happy that summer until two things happen that put their decision in jeopardy: she becomes pregnant and he is offered a job promotion.

“Don’t worry, Millie tells me as long as I take care of it before 12 weeks it will be okay,” she consoles him, and he says nothing. When he finds a piece of tubing in the bathroom closet, he knows she is seriously thinking of aborting. The tension grows and she becomes more and more emotionally distant. She frequently smokes and consumes alcohol. While she appears to be in control, there are times where privately she totally “loses” it, including when she gets drunk and cheats on her husband with the next door neighbor.

The night on which her pregnancy is dated at 12 weeks, they have a really awful fight, during which they both admit to hating each other, and he says he wished they had gotten rid of “it”. He later says he didn’t mean it, but he has already triggered a chain of thoughts in her mind that has set her resolve.

The last morning, there is a chilling scene during which she plays the perfect wife, making him a nice breakfast. She has placed the children in her friend Millie’s care, and you know what she is going to do as soon as he leaves the house.

Wearing perfectly starched linens, she carries the necessary instruments to the bathroom and closes the door. When she walks down the stairs, she stands at the window and smiles. She starts bleeding and calls for help. She dies in the hospital.

The movie ends with Wheeler sitting on a park bench, watching his children on the swings and obviously grieving over what he has lost.

I do not recommend watching this movie for fun. I would absolutely not recommend it for minors. I do think the movie tells some important truths, including the facts that: (1) abortion has been around for a very long time; (2) more often than society likes to admit, abortions happen even in upper-class marriages, just because the baby is not convenient; (3) abortion is a life-or-death decision for both the baby and the mother.

This post has also been published on Catholic Media Review.

The Art of Motherhood

In certain occupations, such as baking, medicine, and architecture, perfection is of utmost importance. Motherhood is not one of them.

One of the hardest lessons I have had to learn, as a born perfectionist, is that, like cooking and painting, motherhood is an art, with more room for creativity and imagination than we usually take; it can be stymied by trying too hard to adhere to a certain worldly model – that “perfect mother” that many of us have built up in our brains, composed of pieces of motherly characters from books, movies, and real life.

I don’t think I contradict myself to say we should strive to be like Mary. I think she would not have tried to do things perfectly by our modern standard. Everything we know about her motherhood came about the “wrong way” for her time. She conceived a baby out of wedlock, gave birth in a stable, lived as a poor wife of a simple carpenter, lost her son in the temple, and had to watch her son die a cruel death.

When we view motherhood as a gift, we don’t have to pay God back by being perfect mothers. He knows we can’t, and He doesn’t expect it of us. All He asks is we give them Love. Treasuring a child means putting him or her as our first priority and doing our best for them, given whatever circumstances we are in.

A good friend recently reminded me that to think we could do things perfectly on our own is a sin of pride. Let us offer up our weaknesses then, to God, and ask Him for the grace we need to help bring these young ones up to glorify Him.

Luke 1: 46-55 (NAB)

And Mary said: 16 "My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord;

my spirit rejoices in God my savior.

For he has looked upon his handmaid's lowliness; behold, from now on will all ages call me blessed.

The Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.

His mercy is from age to age to those who fear him.

He has shown might with his arm, dispersed the arrogant of mind and heart.

He has thrown down the rulers from their thrones but lifted up the lowly.

The hungry he has filled with good things; the rich he has sent away empty.

He has helped Israel his servant, remembering his mercy,

according to his promise to our fathers, to Abraham and to his descendants forever."


Painting: “The Madonna of Humility” by Robert Campin, Netherlandish, circa 1450-70

How to take a cake from crumbled disaster to fabulous

My most recent semi-disaster-turned-to-life-lesson came in the form of a cake. After baking a quintuplet batch of banana bread, I forgot to flour my pans when making my daughter's birthday cake. It was a crumbled mess. Rather than let it go to waste, I got a little creative. My daughter was delighted wth the result. I chronicle the steps I took from start to finish in today's article on Examiner: "How to take a cake from disaster to fabulous".

A Gingerbread House Making Birthday Party

My daughter's eleventh birthday party was a success! Although we were expecting a blizzard tonight and the snow was just starting to fall as the party started, most of the girls who live close by still came. They had a great time assembling their own mini-heroes, gingerbread houses, and cupcakes, while singing to Christmas and radio music. Then they all bundled up and went out to play in the snow. Please go to my Examiner article for pictures and instructions on how to bake the gingerbread house pieces and set up for a housemaking party.

"Your shipment has been intercepted" and other gifting disasters

Under The Mistletoe

I looked in horror at the tracking information on my computer. “Shipment has been intercepted.”

A few weeks ago I decided to buy Rebecca Reuben, the newest American Girl doll, for my daughter’s eleventh birthday. Why not see if it was going for cheaper on ebay? I went over and found it for about $20 cheaper than the company’s price. With about 11 seconds left to the bidding, I placed a bid and won. I was thrilled!

Eleven days passed. A serviceman at my door mentioned that I had no numbers on my house. I remembered that I had removed the numbers when painting my mailbox over the summer and, having broken some, had neglected to purchase new ones. I wondered if the UPS man was having a problem finding my house. I went to Home Depot, purchased the needed digits, and went out in the 30-degree chill to nail them onto the post.

I checked the tracking information. It had been returned to the shipper! Was it because of the lack of numbers on my house? Looking back a little farther, I found that the doll had arrived at the UPS center two towns away from me two days after I had placed the order. At that point, the shipper had requested an “intercept” of the package and turned it around. Further exploration showed me that the shipper was no longer a “registered user” on ebay. My paypal payment had gone through successfully.

I burst into tears. Maybe this was not an appropriate reaction. At that moment, it seemed to be a total disaster that my daughter was not going to get this doll in time for her birthday.

“Why don’t you tell her about the problem?” suggested my very reasonable 12-year-old daughter, who was busy baking gingerbread cookies in the kitchen.

“Because then it won’t be a surprise,” I said.

But then I realized that that was the best course of action. If I was going to go through the trouble of re-ordering the doll with priority shipping, I should see if this was really something she wanted in the first place.

So I went to my still-10-year-old and explained to her the problem. She was totally nonplussed. She said that she really would like to have Rebecca and that if it did not come on time for her birthday it would still be okay, as long as she knew it was coming.

Her sweet and calm reaction showed me that my own had been just a little over-the-top. I ordered the doll directly from American Girl (serves me right for having ordered from an unauthorized dealer), paying extra for two-day shipping; opened a complaint with E-bay; and wrote a courteous email to the seller giving him one day to reply regarding a refund before I filed a complaint with Paypal.

I realized that I had been temporarily overwhelmed by the responsibilities of organizing a Little Flower group on Friday night, Confirmation Class Saturday morning, and birthday party Saturday afternoon, with a whole lot of Christmas planning thrown into the mix.

Sometimes the things we think are of utmost importance for our children aren’t really that important to them. And when you put them into perspective of the grand scheme of the universe, there is no cause to be upset over tiny details such as finding the perfect gift on time.

Why moms should ignore all the dieting articles and enjoy their Christmas cookies

Today's Examiner column is a re-run of a rant I went on last Advent about women's magazines that tell us we can lose five pounds by Christmas. I claim that this is the very worst thing you can do for yourself. We should enjoy our Christmas cookies and start working out in January. Use a little moderation and common sense here. A good friend of mine gained five pounds after following my advice and blaimed it on my article. Please click here to read it.

The Ultimate Wait

It seems I have spent the better part of this month waiting. ..

Waiting for my turn at parent-teacher conferences…

Waiting for my camcorder tape to transcribe to the computer and then write to DVD (15 hours). ..

Waiting for my computer to install Microsoft Office 2007 (4 hours)…

Waiting for the cesspool company to arrive (6 hours)…

Waiting for the cable company to fix a cable cut by road construction so I could recovery my telephone and internet service (4 hours)…

Waiting for General Electric to come repair my oven (3 hours and counting as I write this)…

Waiting for slow-moving cars and people to get out of my way…

Like most humans, I am impatient when my time is in the hands of others. If I don’t get my mind on something else and try to make the best use of my waiting time, it can be truly maddening and I wind up with a big headache. Yet whatever is at the end of my wait – even if it is just getting home or having something work again - is greatly rewarding.

Thinking about my recent frustrations, I realized it is quite fitting that I would be spending so much time waiting this month. After all, it is Advent, and we are waiting for Christmas. A few minutes or hours here or there are just a drop in the bucket compared to the two thousand years we have been waiting for the second coming of Jesus.

The book of Acts tells us about the disciples as they stood watching Jesus be lifted up into the clouds before them. He had told them, “The exact time it is not yours to know. The Father has reserved that to himself.” (Acts 1:7) They kept staring until some angels asked them why they were still standing there. Then they got to work establishing churches throughout the world. They might have thought they would have to wait a few days, weeks, or maybe years. Here we are still waiting, and working for the Lord in the meantime.

Children are just as impatient as us, and their behavior this month can be extremely frustrating. Their actions simply mirror ours, and we can use this time to teach them some lessons about eternity. The four weeks of Advent waiting for Christmas can be treated as a microcosm of the wait for Jesus to return to take his Bride, the Church, home to Heaven forever. As the tale of the seven bridesmaids tells us, we are always to be ready and waiting. How we use this time on earth is of utmost importance.

Making this month a joyful and prayerful time can help keep the children – as well as ourselves - focused on Jesus.

Some activities that can help include:

Making Christmas cookies or chocolates

Keeping a Jesse Tree and reading the daily Advent scriptures for each symbols

Other Advent Calendars with daily activities or stories

All Christmas books

Lighting an Advent wreath

Putting beads for good deeds in an Advent bead box

Letting St. Nicholas come and put small treats in their stockings from Dec. 6 through Dec. 24; if they are naughty the Krumpus comes and leaves a potato instead.

Painting: 38 Scenes from the Life of Christ: 22. Ascension
1304-06 Fresco by Cappella Scrovegni (Arena Chapel), Padua

Tips for saying sane during Advent

It should be the most joyful time of the year. Yet many of we busy moms are so intent on "doing it right" that we miss out on the "Merry" part of Christmas. The "KISS" (Keep it Simple Stupid) principle will help you to feel blessed in these final days of Advent. Please click here for my article that includes 10 tips for saying sane during this wonderful season.

How to make a Jesse Tree and ornaments for Advent

If you are looking for a new and meaningful tradition to add to your Advent repertoire, you will love making a Jesse Tree. My Examiner article tells you what a Jesse Tree is and lists all of the 28 symbols, along with the complete scriptures from the Revised Standard Version.

Community outreach activities for families during Advent

My sister Joanna Cummings, a youth and children's minister, has guest posted a column for me on community outreach activities that would be great for families to participate in during Advent.

The Night’s Dark Shade: A Novel of the Cathars by Elena Maria Vidal

I had the pleasure of reading Elena Maria Vidals’ new historical romance, “The Night’s Dark Shade: A Novel of the Cathars”, released by Mayapple Press in November, 2009.

The Night’s Dark Shade tells the story of a young heiress, Lady Raphaelle, who is caught up in the turmoil of the Albigensian Crusade in thirteenth century France. En route to meet her betrothed in the castle in the Pyrenees that is hers by right, she is rescued from an ambush by the brave and alluring Sir Martin.

The sparks between the two are flying from the very beginning, while the readers learns of the history of the crusade as well as the mysterious Cathars, a polytheistic sect which claimed to be Christian. In the first chapter the setting, plot, and all the main characters are all well-established. The second chapter instructs us on some history as told by the sweet-smelling knight as he carries her on horseback to her castle. The novel moves on, mixing history and drama, at a good pace. Raphaelle is caught up in several major dilemmas; we can truly sympathize with what she is going through.

Raphaelle is a strong character who insists on doing what is right for her people. All that she does, including following through on her betrothal to a man she does not love, is seen as her duty to them. Even so, she is torn by the feelings she has for another man. She also chooses to harbor an evil object which results in dire consequences. Vidal shows us how even the very best of us can struggle with sin.

The book addresses some surprising delicate moral issues of the time that are seldom brought up in a Christian novel. The Cathars were against marriage because it regularized procreation, and they thought children were evil. The religious midwives used herbs to prevent conception or to abort, even killing live babies if they were not deemed fit to survive. They promoted homosexuality because it did not result in children. People were encouraged to live together without marriage because they were more likely to contracept.

These topics are intertwined through the plot; the immoral acts are alluded to but never described explicited. The historical research is well documented, and moral deductions drawn by the author are all consistent with Catholic doctrine.

The more you read about history, the more you realize that there is truly nothing new under the sun. What is going on in modern society is a rerun of what was happening in the Middle Ages. If you haven’t heard about the “dark side of being green”, many environmental groups have been saying that children are “emitters” and the best thing we can do for the environment is to stop having children! Planned Parenthood is supported by so many large and well-reputed organizations that it is hard to go shopping, go to a movie, or go to a theme park without purchasing a product that will go toward their “cause”.

I was pleasantly surprised by the ending. I was up until 3 AM reading the suspenseful ending! Justice is served (medieval style!) to the protagonists. The main characters all make turn-arounds for the better and there is forgiveness all around. The choice Raphaelle makes in the end is completely satisfying.

Elena Maria Vidal sent me a copy of the newly released book in exchange for my honest review of her book. The author studied the Cathars at SUNY Albany before receiving her Master’s Degree in European History. She also authored Trianon and Madame Royale. You can follow her blog at http://teaattriannon.blogspot.com

The book is available from Lulu.com and will be available from Amazon in a few weeks.

Signed copies can also be bought directly from the author at her blog

This review also appears as a guest post at Catholic Media Review.

First Sunday of Advent

I was filled with such great joy this morning when I woke up this morning. It is the First Sunday of Advent! Last night I put out some new Advent Bead Boxes for the children, each with one bead to start them off. The beads represent good deeds. On Christmas Eve they will place their boxes under the Christmas Tree as their gift to the Christ Child. Please read my column today, in which I tell about some great Austrian Advent traditions I learned from Maria Augusta Trapp's "The Story of the Trapp Family Singers".

Happy Thanksgiving!

These chocolates were made by my children today. They are girl and boy pilgrims, bats with baseballs, and turkeys. I am so thankful for them, for America, and for my readers. Happy Thanksgiving!

For flowers that bloom about our feet;
For tender grass, so fresh, so sweet;
For song of bird, and hum of bee;
For all things fair we hear or see,
Father in heaven, we thank Thee!
~Ralph Waldo Emerson

When Mommies Make Mistakes

The school yard

Things could be worse. Suppose your errors were counted and published every day, like those of a baseball player. ~Author Unknown

I thought I was having a really great Mommy weekend. I managed to spend individual one-on-one time with each of my children. My 3-year-old and I planted some bulbs. I took my 8- and 10-year olds on separate library trips. I played a full-court, no-foul, no-boundaries, no-time-outs, one-on-one basketball game with my twelve-year-old and let her beat me 22-0. We all went out to Friendly’s for dinner and ice cream.

Sunday night I took my two older girls out to buy Thanksgiving outfits. We aren’t big clothes hogs in this house, but for special holidays I like to make sure everyone has something beautiful to wear. They each picked out something gorgeous and I was trying on a flattering red blouse with scarf.

“Maybe I’ll wear this to my son’s Thanksgiving play,” I thought to myself, “When is that again? Friday? Wait, we have off this Friday, which means..it..must..have..been..this..past..Friday…OMG…OMG…OMG…”

I got home and ran to my son before my daughters could open their big mouths. He was playing Battleship with my husband. “Did you already have your Thanksgiving play?” I burst out. “Yeah,” he said, nonchalantly. The look of horror on my face told all to my husband. I ran upstairs to have a good cry.

I pride myself on keeping our complicated schedules in order. I have my little book in my pocketbook, which gets written on a large dry erase calendar in the laundry room. Around that are corkboards where the important flyers hang. But something went wrong with my system in this one particular case, and I was never going get back the chance to attend my son’s Thanksgiving play.

I emailed an apology to the teacher, asking if she knew of any parents who had videotaped the play. She wrote me back a nice note saying not to beat myself up over it and gave me a name. I emailed the person, who sent me a nice picture and promised to copy the video for me. So I will eventually get the chance to sit and watch the play with my son. In the meantime, I will be taking him out for lots and lots of ice cream.

I woke up still feeling bad, and was glad to find this quote by Henry David Thoreau : “One cannot too soon forget his errors and misdemeanors; for to dwell upon them is to add to the offense.”

I also liked Sophia Loren’s “Mistakes are part of the dues one pays for a full life.” And how about F. Wikzek’s “If you don't make mistakes, you're not working on hard enough problems. And that's a big mistake.”

I was thinking that I couldn’t go on writing this blog when I couldn’t do something really basic like attend a school play. Then I read Niels Bohr’s quote, “An expert is a man who has made all the mistakes which can be made in a very narrow field.”

And finally, from Alexander Pope, in Swift, Miscellanies, “A man should never be ashamed to own he has been in the wrong, which is but saying... that he is wiser today than he was yesterday.”

We are responsible for so much as mothers, and when we mess up the best thing to do is say “I’m sorry”, take a look at our priority list, and move forward.

Everlasting Summer

An August Afternoon (Restrike Etching)

“Nature gives to every time and season some beauties of its own; and from morning to night, as from the cradle to the grave, it is but a succession of changes so gentle and easy that we can scarcely mark their progress.” - Charles Dickens

Reluctantly, my three-year-old and I pulled out the faded marigolds that have lined my driveway since August. She and I deadheaded the plants, putting the seeds away for safe-keeping until the spring. I was sad to see the color go, but happy to see the clean look of the driveway once the leaves and dead flowers were gone.

Usually, the seasons don’t come and go without warning. They ease in and out, and with relatively predictable timing. Still you hear people exclaiming their shock at the “sudden change” in weather.

Children and the elderly are like that too. People are always telling me it seemed like “yesterday” that their children were little. They say it happens when you “blink”.

When the kids went back to school in the fall, the school nurse remarked about how many inches my eldest daughter had shot up over the summer. I measured her and realized that she is taller than me. When did that happen?

An older friend or relative, after suffering through an illness for several months, passes away “suddenly”. From the outside, this is easy to see. From the inside, it is harder to be objective about the time as it passes.

I think of the seasons translating to human development as spring for birth, summer for young to middle-aged adult, fall for the elderly, and winter for death. There is no birth or dying in Heaven. Everyone will have new, perfect bodies and be in the prime of their development. When the universe is renewed at the time of Jesus’ coming, it will be like a one-time spring that turns into an everlasting summer.

Flowers will bloom and never fade! Leaves will bud and never fall off! There will be no weeding, for no plant will be deemed undesirable. We will walk around the garden of life praising God for ever for His Glory.

We will not be sad to watch our little ones grow up, or to watch our elderly die. We will not hesitate to form human bonds, for friendship will never die and neither will our friends.

In the section of the Catechism of the Catholic Church entitled “The Hope of the New Heaven and the New Earth” (section 1042), drawing on sacred scripture, we read:

“At the end of time, the Kingdom of God will come in its fullness. After the universal judgment, the righteous will reign for ever with Christ, glorified in body and soul. The universe itself will be renewed:
The Church…will receive her perfection only in the flory of heaven, when will come the time of the renewal of all things. At that time, together with the human race, the universe itself, which is so closely related to man and which attains its destiny through him, will be perfectly re-established in Christ.”

Send your old Christmas cards to St. Jude's Ranch for Children

Every year I take out the Christmas decorations the day after Thanksgiving. Tucked neatly into one of the boxes I will find last year's Christmas cards, tied neatly with satin ribbon. I don't know what to do with them, but I am too sentimental to throw them out. So I put them in a box full of cards from previous years, and place the box back in the garage, along with old, broken, homemade ornaments that I still hold onto.

I always knew I would find a good use for them one day, and now I have...

For the rest of this article published on Examiner.com please click here.

Igneous Rocks, Farmville, and the Horses of Death

“So, what’s new in the virtual world?” my husband asks on Saturday evening, kissing me hello.

“Nothing much. What’s new in the real world?”

Dinner has been ready but I have been keeping the meatballs warm in the oven for the past half hour. I take them out and mumble an apology.

“They look like igneous rocks,” he comments.

“You’ll just have to use my sauce then,” I say, “It’s been simmering for the past three hours.” To prove that, the house is filled with the glorious smell of olive oil, garlic, onions, tomato, and basil, with just a touch of White Zinfandel.

The kids come to the table and answer his original question with an explanation of all the new developments in Farmville. My children have never spent much time on the computer, but since they were introduced to online games and it has been raining quite a bit lately, this online game has become a household obsession.

After dinner, I tell them that I want them to stay off the computer on Sunday because it is going to be a nice day.

“But Mom, I just planted $15,000 worth of watermelon seeds! If I don’t harvest them when they ripen, they will wither and die.”

“Don’t worry about your virtual plants, honey. I’ll check on them from my computer and make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“No Farmville for you, either,” my husband teases me.

On Sunday morning we were treated to a reading about the end times. The deacon tells us that this really is about the present times. We are always to be ready, for no man knows the hour at which Christ will come. I think to myself: Would I want to be caught playing Farmville when Jesus returns?

On the way home, I am chastising them for their treatment of each other. During the Lord‘s Prayer my two middle children had been squirming around and not letting the other hold hands. “If Jesus came back right now, would you want Him to catch you mistreating each other?

I am still working my way through The Catechism of the Catholic Church, from front to back, one section at a time. After lunch I pick it up and read:

“Every action of yours, every thought, should be those of one who expects to die before the day is out. Death would have no great terrors for you if you had a quiet conscience…Then why not keep clear of sin instead of running away form death? If you aren’t fit to face death today, it’s very unlikely you will be tomorrow…”

[quoted in section 1014 in The Catechism; from The Imitation of Christ, 1, 23, 1]

I thought again of the Horses of Death in the recent version of A Christmas Carol. My ten-year-old had wanted to know what they represented. I had explained then that we should have no fear of death if we are in a State of Grace. Scrooge was afraid because he was not.

We went out to set up a new pitching net and spent the afternoon raking leaves and working on softball skills. It was time well spent. Dinner was a hodgepodge of leftovers from the previous three nights. Then we turned on our computers to check on our farms.

Painting by William Blake: “Death on a Pale Horse”

"Messenger: The Legacy of Mattie J.T. Stepanek and Heartsongs" by Jeni Stepanek

"Messenger: The Legacy of Mattie J.T. Stepanek and Heartsongs”, is written by Jeni Stepanek, mother of the hero of the book, with Larry Lindner. It includes a foreword by Maya Angelou. It was released on November 3, 2009, by Dutton, a division of Penguin Books.

Mattie J.T. Stepanek was this amazing kid who just happened to suffer from a rare disorder that later came to be known as Dysautonomic Mitochondrial Myopathy. His three siblings all died by the age of four of the same disorder, and his mother was diagnosed with the adult onset form after having given birth to them. They are the only five people ever diagnosed with this particular form of the disorder.

Told from the first person, Jeni is one of the main characters of the book, as the mother who cared for her son and supported his efforts, yet Mattie is the focus. She sees him as a gift from God and is thankful for the time she was able to share with him and her other children on this earth.

From the beginning you know that he is going to die at the age of thirteen, and the suspense of the reader in seeing how he is going to live his life in between crises, and when he is going to die, is a faint echo of what you know Jeni and Mattie lived through in real life time. Jeni is very descriptive of all that they went through, but the book is much larger than that.

From an early age, Mattie defied the doctors’ predictions, so that eventually they gave up saying there was no hope and just let him go the course. He taught himself to read and write, and was so far ahead of his age peers in school that homeschooling became the best option for him. By middle school he was attending a local college for his coursework.

By the age of three he was writing poetry, and became a bestselling author. He published six collections of Heartsongs poetry and one collection of peace essays. “Heartsong” is a word he coined for a person’s essence. He believed that everyone should share their heartsongs with each other to make the world a better place. His poetry and his life work were all for the purpose of spreading the message of peace and hope.

He was the National Goodwill Ambassador for Jerry Lewis’s Muscular Dystrophy Association for three years in a row, traveling along with his all his life support equipment to give inspirational talks to large audiences and appear on television programs such as Larry King Live and Oprah Winfrey. His final project was assisting Jimmy Carter in the writing of the book “Just Peace”.

The book features never-before-published essays and poems from Mattie’s journals, as well as e-mail exchanges between him and one of his best friends, Oprah Winfrey.

I had a few reservations about the book that I feel I must disclose to the Catholic reading audience. Jeni, herself a Catholic, chose to leave an abusive marriage; divorce is mentioned but not an annulment. Mattie’s best friends are also some of the more liberal celebrities. If you are not a fan of Oprah, you might get tired of reading all of her supportive emails to Mattie. You may not agree with the choices of books and movies Mattie enjoys.

There is one story on p. 203 that gave me pause. Someone asks Mattie if they can put a “Celebrate Diversity” sticker on the back of his wheelchair. When a nurse and close friend explains to him and Jeni that it is a “gay pride” sticker and that people might think he is gay, he chooses to leave it because “God’s love includes all people”. I understand his point of view, but Jeni goes further in stating in the book, “So many people who are antigay point to the Bible to support the opinion that homosexuality is a sin. But Mattie understood that the Bible had to be read with an eye toward historical and cultural context.”

Other than that, the book is profoundly pro-life. The doctors all begged her to get an abortion; she would not. They told her to put Mattie in an institution; she chose to be his mother. She chose to let him live his life as much as he could, and went to great lengths to allow him to see his vision through. When it came to the end of his life, she allowed him the dignity to take part in the decisions about heroic life-saving measures. She and others made sure that all of his wishes were carried out when he was buried. They honored his life through continuing to carry on his message to the world.

Dutton sent me a preview copy of the book in exchange for my honest review. I have to admit that, when I read the description, I was not too excited about it. It sounded like a depressing topic, and I usually like to read to escape reality for a while. But I took the assignment and was glad I did. Other than the reservations I have mentioned, I recommend this book as a tribute to a great young soul with a message of hope and peace.

This article appears as a guest post at Catholic Mothers Online.

For more about Mattie and his life see his tribute website.

For ordering information see Dutton Publishing at Penguin Books.

Disney's "A Christmas Carol"

If you are wondering whether A Christmas Carol is too scary for your child, please read my review over at my Examiner column.
Leticia Velasquez also has an excellent review at MercatorNet.

Teaching kids historical perspective through the movies

On Friday I took the kids to see the new Disney’s Christmas Carol. It was amazing technically, and filled with real Christian messages. Musical selections included “Hark the Herald Angels Sing” and “Joy to the World”. The message front and center was that you gain happiness by helping others.

After the movie, my ten-year-old was filled with questions. Why were the horses of death chasing him? Why was the Ghost of Christmas Present keeping two children called Want and Ignorance under his skirts? Did people really have to go to jail because they were poor? I was so glad that I had been able to take them to a quality movie that offered the opportunity to discuss such deep questions.

On Saturday my twelve-year-old surprised me by requesting that we watch Gone With the Wind. This is my favorite movie of all time. Why the sudden interest? She has been studying the Civil War in school and they have been watching Glory, which is told from the Northern perspective.

So we sat and watched the whole thing. We paused the movie many times so I could explain what was going on culturally. The difficulties of those times made me so thankful for the modern conveniences we take for granted. What was chloroform and why did they have to cut off solidiers’ legs without it? Why did they have to boil the soldiers’ clothing?

There were also some tricky moral questions. Why was Belle Watkins considered a bad woman? Why were Scarlett and Ashley kissing when they were married to other people? Why was Scarlett marrying her sisters’ beaus?

I also got to give them a little movie history. I recited for them the names of the actors, the awards the movie and the book had reaped, and why the sunset kiss between Scarlett and Rhett was controversial for its time.

Not only do true classics never go out of style; they offer great opportunities to share your knowledge and make it relevant to the world that your children are familiar with.

10 steps to planting bulbs with your kids in the fall

Planting bulbs is such a great activity to do with your kids, and they are fully capable of performing all of the steps from the age of 2. Please click here to see my article on 10 steps to planting bulbs in the fall with your kids.

10 reasons to get your kids to rake leaves

If you have kids, and you have leaves, it should be obvious you should put them together and make both disappear for a while. For those who need some convincing, I have written 10 reasons to get your kids to rake leaves in today's Examiner column.

Where’s the water? It’s in the fax machine.

Gondolas in Venice

“We’re going to vote,” I told my three-year-old as we walked out the door.

We drove the mile to the nearest school and parked.

“Where’s the water?” she asked me.

“I don’t have any water,” I said.

“But where’s the water? There’s no boat.”

“No, not boat. VOTE. You’ll see.”

We went in and voted.

Next stop was Staples, a long overdue trip.

Last summer, while dusting some shelves, I knocked a small water globe onto our fax machine. This is one of the necessary pieces of office equipment for my husband’s process serving business.

While the perfumy smell of the water fill the room, I tried to rescue the machine from the ravages of the water and broken glass.

It was still able to send, but not receive or copy.

Due to a combination of my dislike of shopping and not wanting to spend the money on a new machine, we have gone for months receiving PDF files from clients via email in lieu of faxes. The problem with this is that my husband does not know how to use the computer. So every time he needs to retrieve a file, I need to be home, download the file, and print it out. Sometimes clients use a program that is incompatible with my computer, causing more frustration.

We also have a weird combination of programs that work on one computer and not another, and printer problems, which result in my having to email files from one computer to another in order to print out a simple document.

The other problem with faxing, which was present before the actual machine broke, was that I had to be home in order to manually switch the line to receive a fax.

All my problems related to faxing were solved today!

I found a display unit on clearance, as well as a machine that automatically switches to receive a fax, without requiring a second line.

Ah, freedom! Freedom from having to retrieve documents online, freedom from having to pick up business calls during the day, freedom from picking up the phone to hear the annoying BEEP BEEP BEEP of a fax machine.

It is so amazing what a simple piece of technology can do to change your life.