The Visitation

The theme of the 2007 Respect Life Program is The Infant in My Womb Leaped for Joy.

[The angel Gabriel had just told Mary the extraordinary news of her immaculate conception.]

“’And behold, Elizabeth, your relative, has also conceived a son in her old age,
and this is the sixth month for her who was called barren;
for nothing will be impossible for God.’
Mary said, ‘Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord.
May it be done to me according to your word.’
Then the angel departed from her.

During those days Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah,
Where she entered the house of Zechariah and greeted Elizabeth.
When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the infant leaped in her womb, and Elizabeth, filled with the Holy Spirit,
Cried out in a loud voice and said, ‘Most blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb.
And how does this happen to me, that the mother of my Lord should come to me?
For at the moment the sound of your greeting reached my ears, the infant in my womb leaped for joy.
Blessed are you who believed that what was spoken to you by the Lord would be fulfilled.’

And Mary said:
‘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 promised to our fathers,
To Abraham and to his descendants forever.’

Mary remained with her about three months and then returned to her home.”

Luke 1:36-56

“Annunciation and Visitation”
Unknown master, Flemish, c. 1525
Oil on oak panel, 99 x 33 cm (each)
Groeninge Museum, Bruges

Like a Little Child

Over the past week, my 14 ½- month-old has experimented with standing up in the middle of the room and taking one small step. At first that step was barely discernible, and I could barely take my eyes off her for fear of missing something important. Today she took two steps, sat down, stood up, then took six steps towards me. The gleam in her eyes showed she knew she was doing something amazing. Gladly I had all her siblings home to witness it. Later we tried to get her to do it for her father, but she refused to cooperate.

As proud she is to stand and take some steps, she is very happy crawling and does not hesitate to return to it. If she is standing and sees something she wants, she pauses, seeming to calculate the easiest way, then drops and crawls. Or, she might see that if she throws her body a bit in one direction, she can make it to the couch and thus avoid having to change her height status. If she has something she desires to carry along with her, she will do a sort of step-crawl, sitting on her rear and using one foot to get ahead.

The children have a ball when they all get down on their hands and knees and crawl around the downstairs in a circle – a central wall divides the three main rooms of the main level – gleefully she follows them around, squealing laughter as they carry on the “crawling races”.

That she does not discern her “lowliness” as a crawler from her altered stature as a walker represents the unselfconscious humility that God desires of us. Yes, He desires that we grow and mature in His Ways, but we are to retain a certain childlike quality while doing so. It is not as simple to do as it sounds.

“Just then the disciples came up to Jesus with the question,
‘Who is of greatest importance in the kingdom of God?’
He called a little child over and stood him in their midst and said:
‘I assure you, unless you change and become like little children,
you will not enter the kingdom of God.
Whoever makes himself lowly,
Becoming like this child,
Is of greatest importance in that heavenly reign.
Whoever welcomes one such child for my sake welcomes me.
On the other hand,
It would be better for anyone who leads astray one of these little ones who believe in me,
To be drowned by a millstone around his neck,
In the depths of the sea.”
Matthew 18:1-6

I have received a prayer request for someone who is putting her unborn baby in the position of utmost importance:

Dear Elizabeth,

Late last night, a friend called me with an urgent
prayer request.

As he described the situation, I realized how the young
mother's love profoundly demonstrates the spirit of 40
Days for Life.

While flying to Minneapolis/St. Paul, Minnesota this
afternoon, I felt compelled to share this, so you could
fervently pray for this family now, and during the rest
of 40 Days for Life...

Urgent prayers are requested for the health and
development of Baby John, unborn son of Stacey and Joe
Persichetti, as well as for health and strength of his
parents, and the wisdom of his doctors.

Stacey, the mother, was diagnosed with serious brain
cancer last fall and, during the course of chemo and
radiation treatment, discovered that she is pregnant.

Due to her treatment, the baby has been exposed to the
chemicals from day one.

She has been informed by her baby-related doctors that
the chemo is very strong and particularly attacks DNA
growth in cells and therefore the baby. The doctors
feel that there will be neurological damage to the
child, although the ultrasounds have thus far showed
relatively normal growth.

Additionally, her cancer-related doctors have told her
that they do not want her to stop treatment because her
cancer is so aggressive. They said that if she carries
the baby to 40 weeks gestation, she probably won't live
to deliver the child.

Rather than resort to the world's suggested "solution"
of an abortion, Stacey is taking a 10 week break from
her treatment to allow the baby to reach 28 weeks
gestation, when the doctors can deliver via C-section.

The bottom line: Stacey is risking her own life to give
her baby a chance to live, even though her child may
have complications resulting from the cancer treatment.

Scripture tells us, "There is no greater love than to
lay down one's life for one's friends." (John 15:13)

Stacey's selfless faith during this difficult time is
showing us -- and the whole world -- this greatest form
of love.

Let's dedicate our 40 Days for Life prayers and efforts
today in honor of Stacey, her husband Joe, and Baby
John, and let's show the world that same kind of love
as we selflessly work to protect all innocent children
in the womb and their mothers and fathers.

For Stacey, Joe, and Baby John,

David Bereit, National Campaign Director, 40 Days for
Life

P.S.- The Persichetti family would be deeply touched to
know that you are praying for their family. Please take
a moment to leave a reply with your prayers for them at
the bottom of today's blog posting.

Watercolor painting above:
Christ Teaching His Disciples and Holding a Child.
Thomas Stothard, c 1780. Tate Gallery.

Strawberries and Cream

The baby was in her high chair having strawberries and a bowlful of plain vanilla yogurt. The bus stopped in front of our house and she turned excitedly, knowing her siblings were due to come in the door.

“Ooh! Strawberries and cream!” exclaimed my ten-year-old daughter. “Can we have some?”

So they all sat down with a bowlful of strawberries and “cream”.

Feeding herself, alternating between fingers and spoon, the baby managed to eat quite a bit, but needed a bath afterward.

The kids love to participate in her bath time, rinsing her hair, sudsing her up, brushing her hair, and encouraging her to splash and play. The bathroom can get a bit crowded this way, so I have to ask them to take turns.

While I was dressing her, the other kids played downstairs on-and-off with doing homework. Three times they came to me, tattling. This one poked that one, and that one pinched this one. “Go back downstairs and I’ll talk to you about this in a minute,” I answered.

How was I going to deal with this, this time?

An answer quickly came to me.

I went to my eight-year-old’s room and grabbed her Precious Moments Bible.

“All of you sit down on the couch, right now,” I commanded.

They did so, and I opened up the Bible to I Corinthians 13.

“Who knows what I Corinthians 13 is about?”

“Love,” answered both my 8- and 10- year old daughters. My 6-year-old son was silent.

“Good,” I responded, and read aloud the entire chapter, stressing the verses that especially pertained to the behavior that was expected among them.

Here and there, they requested that I define a word, such as "provoked".

“And who are we supposed to love?” I asked.

“Everyone,” came the correct answer.

“And where are we supposed to start?”

No answer.

“Our family. This is where it all starts. You have to learn to love your own family before you can love all of the human family. Now hug and kiss each other.”

Genuine hugs and kisses went around.

If I had scolded them, there would have been a stiff hug and a muttered, begrudging “Sorry”.

I am looking in my concordance, preparing another passage for tomorrow.

Apple Picking for President

This Columbus Day was the perfect day for apple picking. So I packed up my kids, an apple crate, and our good old red Radio Flyer wagon, and headed east.

The baby sat in back of the wagon, and the apple crate fit perfectly in the front half. I asked the lady at the weighing station where the best apples are. “What kind are you looking for?” she asked.

“What do you have?”

She answered red and golden delicious – and I said we wanted both. She told me to go down several rows and head deep into the field.

We did that, walking through row after row of empty trees, red and golden apples piled on the ground. Some people were picking through the ones that had dropped. We kept on walking.

Finally, we struck gold – or rather, red. There was not a single golden delicious apple to be seen ready for picking. But there was a nice section of lovely trees simply weighed down with perfect red apples. Within fifteen minutes we had our crate filled – about fifty pounds’ worth. The baby had her first real apple and just loved it. We had to stop her when she got to the core.

We found a shortcut to head back home; next time I will know how to avoid the fruit-picking traffic.

I was absolutely exhausted tonight and took an hour to watch Dr. Dobson speak on Fox News’ Hannity and Colmes.

Apparently the Republican party is having trouble finding a good conservative, pro-life candidate. I find it appalling that they would settle for less than we deserve. But even worse is that we would accept that. Many would choose the “better of the worse” candidates, afraid that to vote for a third-party candidate is to lose the election for one’s party.

Hypothetically, say the Republicans fail to find a good candidate, and a large part of the Rebublican constituency votes for a third-candidate on principle, and Hillary Clinton wins. Is Hillary Clinton the worst thing that could possibly happen to America?

Dobson had a wonderful point. Should Hillary Clinton be elected (God forbid), there will be a mobilization of the conservative movement. Should the likes of Rudy Giuliani be elected, the pro-life movement will be dead.

Didn’t something similar happen during the Bill Clinton Presidency? Rush Limbaugh reached the height of popularity and conservative talk radio made the mainstream media take pause.

Let us not pick up the rotten apples for lack of nothing better. Let us keep walking and searching for the choice fruits America deserves.

Painting Above by Vitali Komarov
Flowered Meadow in the Garden, Oil on Canvas, 2007

My First Pro-Life Picket

"Praise to God for His salvation and Judgment. Praise
the Lord! Sing to the Lord a new song, and His praise
in the assembly of saints." -- Psalm 149:1

Stand Up For Life was held for the first time in Eastern Long Island, in Manorville, while our Nassau County counterparts rallied at the more established route in Huntington. Over 100 men, women, and children (about a dozen) were present. Most held signs with a picture of a mother and baby that read “LOVE THEM BOTH”; some held the same sign in Spanish; and others held signs that said “Abortion Kills Children”.

My daughters and I were the first to set up on a grassy corner. Thinking nervously of my car accident last year, I made sure we were up on a knoll, about six feet higher than the street level. I was joined by a lovely woman, who told me she was number eleven of twelve children. “I was the same age as your daughters when my mom first started taking us to these things. It really stuck to me.”

A car slowed down as a woman in the passenger seat rolled down her window to say loudly, “I’m on my way to get an abortion, right now!” I’m sure she was trying to rile us up, but what bothered me was that she had a young girl in her back seat. My daughters were standing several feet back and did not hear her. I burst into tears. “This is my first time doing something like this,” I explained after the lady had driven away. I hoped we were not in for more of the same – thankfully, we were not.

The other lady’s nieces and nephews soon showed up, and they moved to the other side of the street. Three other families from my children’s school joined us. My daughters were heartened and held their signs up high.

My dear friend and esteemed fellow blogger Leticia Velasquez joined us with her teenage daughter. They had just come from the Latin Mass, she said. She boldly stepped up to the street and held up her sign. She counted the friendly beeps. “I think it’s about ten to one in favor,” she guessed. Some bikers passed by with a thumbs up. A few held out a different finger but, perhaps in deference to the children present, held their tongues. Whenever a woman passed by with a sad or angry look, she said a Hail Mary for them. She spoke of the looks on young women’s faces as they came out of the abortion clinics.

I pray for the angels who are able to stand vigil at such places. I think it must take nerves of steel. Having been gracefully protected from any great evil or suffering in my life, first under the wings of my parents and then those of my husband, it is very difficult for me to see it in others.

A police officer stopped by briefly. “I have no problem what you’re doing here,” he said, “Just make sure to keep out of the street and not traffic.” He continued on his way.

Before long, it was 3:30, the established time to leave. The woman who had first stood next to me came to make sure I was doing okay, after my original emotional outburst. Leticia didn’t seem to want to leave her post, but we dragged her away.

"Oh, sing to the Lord a new song! Sing to the Lord, all
the earth. Sing to the Lord, bless His name. Proclaim
the good news of His salvation from day to day." --
Psalm 96:1-2.

Above: Adoration Of The Magi (central panel of the altarpiece of the Patron Saints of Cologne) Oil on canvas, 1435-1440

Stand Up For Life!

At fourteen months, my youngest daughter is just now starting to bring herself to a stand in the middle of the room. As we have all been holding our breaths for this moment, she takes in the attention gleefully. Eyes shining, smile wide, she looks around the room as we clap for her. She claps for herself and says, “Yay!” as my son counts the number of seconds she is able to stand.

As much as we are happy to see her developmental progress, neither are we in a rush to see her leave babyhood behind.

Today, after my eldest daughter’s cross-country meet, it was so hot out that we went down to the beach area. “Only up to your knees,” I warned the children, knowing what was bound to happen anyway. As I held the baby in up to her knees, my eight-year-old “accidentally” fell in. It was all over after that. My children and all the cross-country teammates were soon ALL in, clothes and all. We got a great picture to send to our coach.

Tomorrow we will take part in the Eastern Long Island “Stand Up For Life” prayerful vigil, as well as the “Baby Bottle Campaign”. My daughters will be giving out baby bottles after church, to collect for needy moms-to-be. Later we will be standing, along with schoolmates and other pro-lifers from across Long Island, with placards in hand. Lots of apple-pickers will be stuck in traffic taking in our message to respect the life of the innocent unborn. This will be my first real pro-life event I’ve taken part in. I will be sure to report back all my observations!

From 40 Days for Life:
The United States Conference of Catholic Bishops
(USCCB) recognizes Sunday, October 7, as "Respect Life
Sunday" and has many resources for that day, as well as
the rest of Respect Life month. Get more info here.

Sunday, October 7, is the 20th nationwide Life
Chain, a peaceful and prayerful witness of Americans
standing for one hour praying for our nation. These
wonderful events will be held in hundreds of cities
across America and many 40 Days for Life locations are
participating in Life Chain as part of their efforts.
The founder and president of Life Chain, Royce Dunn,
has been one of the most vocal supporters of 40 Days
for Life and he is an amazing man of faith! Learn more.

Painting above by Stefan Lochner (born 1442 - died 1451)
“Madonna Of The Rose Bush”, 1450, Oil on canvas

Apple Crisp

My good friend called me yesterday to confirm coffee at her house this morning. The two of us have been so busy that it was all we could do to find one hour in which to meet – from exactly 10:15 to 11:15. From there I was going to pick up my children from their half-day at school, then go on to pumpkin picking.

“Have you been fasting?” she asked me on the telephone.

I have to admit I thought this was a test, because she had been the first one to send me the information about the 40 Days for Life call for fasting and prayer.

“I have to admit,” I nervously replied, “I was going to do a modified fast [because I am nursing], but I failed.”

“That’s okay,” she said lightheartedly, “The reason I asked was because I went apple picking and was thinking of making something. I didn’t want to put it in front of you if you were fasting.”

It turns out she had also not been successful in avoiding snacks between meals on Monday, Wednesday, and Fridays, as had been called for in the Diocese of Rockville Center. Like me, she had decided to make non-food-related sacrifices. How thoughtful it was of her to desire not to act as a “stumbling block” for me.

I informed her that, even if I had been fasting, the Catholic Fasting Rules allow us to accept food from our hostesses if it would be rude not to do so.

Those who are excused from fast or abstinence:
Besides those outside the age limits, those of unsound mind, the sick, the frail, pregnant or nursing women according to need for meat or nourishment, manual laborers according to need, guests at a meal who cannot excuse themselves without giving great offense or causing enmity and other situations of moral or physical impossibility to observe the penitential discipline.

You can read about the 40 Days for Life as well as the complete Catholic Fasting Rules here.


We had a wonderful homemade apple crisp. I can’t remember the last time I had baked apple goods that actually came from freshly picked apples. What a treat!

For the recipe that goes with the photo above go here.

Just for Fun (?)

I received this meme from my dear friend Leticia over at Cause of Our Joy, Causa Nostrae Laetitiae, The Dr.Jerome Lejeune Society , and The True Meaning of Christmas.
Here's a fun quiz made up especially for bloggers. The rules are easy. Just post the quiz on your blog and answer the questions, then pass it on to five other bloggers, and link to them in your post. Be sure to link back to the one who sent it to you.

1. Do you attend the Traditional Latin Mass or the Novus Ordo?
Novus Ordo, because that is what is held in our parish. They also have a Spanish Mass, which perhaps is linguistically closer to Latin, but I don’t think that counts.
2. If you attend the TLM, how far do you drive to get there?
The nearest TLM is about 45 minutes away. We all get up at 10:00 on Sundays, so they would have to have a very late mass in order for us to get there on time.
3. If you had to apply a Catholic label to yourself, what would it be? How about Devout Roman Catholic?
We were made for the glorification of God. Therefore I believe in living one’s life as a prayer. Every single one of our thoughts and actions are to be guided by our Maker. If we know the Word, and live by it, there should be no question about what to do or say in a given situation. I look to Christ implicitly in every second of my day. I believe Christ founded one Holy Catholic Apostolic Church; its doctrine is carefully founded upon His Word; therefore I do consider myself a Devout Roman Catholic.
4. Are you a comment junkie? I love getting comments and try to leave comments whenever I read something that truly touches me.
5. Do you go back to read the comments on the blogs you’ve commented on?
Occasionally, if it was a comment that stood out in my memory as something that might draw another comment.
6. Have you ever left an anonymous comment on another blog? My very first comment was listed as “anonymous” but I listed my name. A minute later I became a blogger.
7. Which blogroll would you most like to be on?
I am too new to this to answer this one intelligently.
8. Which blog is the first one you check? causa nostrae laetitiae
9. Have you met any other bloggers in person? I know Leticia Velasquez at Causa Nostrae Laetitiae and my sister, Joanna Gerold, at Part of Something. I hope to meet some more of my fellow Catholic Long Island Blogger Moms at a Stand Up for Life Walk this Sunday.
10. What are you reading? Currently on my night table are “Feminism: The Essential Historical Writings”, “The Gentle Art of Communicating with Kids”, Jane Austen’s “Sanditon and Other Stories”, and “A Visit to Highbury: Another View of Emma”, by Joan Austen-Leigh; and, of course, my Bible and Concordance.
Bonus Question! Has your site been banned by Spirit of Vatican II? No, but I am actively trying to get myself banned. Apparently, it is a "good" thing to be banned. I thought that banning went out with Capernicus and Galileo. I am afraid I do not have a very good sense of humour.
If it has, who do you think Father Tim really is? I do not know.

Picture Above:
Blind Man's Buff
by Auguste Joseph Trupheme, 1836-1898

October is Respect Life Month!

I believe it is no coincidence that Long Island’s Newsday chose this week to run a five-part series on the Katie Trebing Story, reported by Beth Whitehouse. The Trebings used preimplantation genetic diagnosis (PGD) and in vitro fertilization to create the “perfect sibling” for the purpose of a bone marrow transplant to hopefully cure their daughter Katie’s Diamond Blackfan anemia. In the process, a total of 37 embryos were created. Only three were considered “good candidates” for implantation; the result was one successful pregnancy. The story is available at www.newsday.com/thematch. Whitehouse will be available for a live chat at the web site this Tues. and Wed. at 12:30 p.m. Stacy and Steve Trebing will be in the chat room on Thurs. at 12:30 p.m. Perhaps some of you can log in to make your voices heard.

Fun at Shea

“Meet the Mets,
Meet the Mets,
Step right up and greet the Mets;
Bring the kiddies,
Bring your wife,
Guaranteed to have the time of your life!”

It was a gorgeous day, and a fabulous day for Mets fans. In a crucial game, the Mets beat out the Marlins 13-0, scoring in every inning but the fourth, with an almost-no-hitter spoiled for John Maines by Hoover in the 8th inning. Other unusual events included an all-out-brawl on the field in the fifth inning, and Jose Reyes refusing to run on his hit in the third. (We just watched the game again on the Mets Network, to get a better understanding of what happened with the fight, which was precipitated by Garcia’s aggressive pitching.)

The scene was full of excitement for all the children, especially the baby. In order to get to our seats in the top row of the upper mezzanine, we had to go up several escalators. The height was dizzying, and we all felt a little giddy from our partial fright. Looking through the metal grid behind us, we could see the skyline of New York and the busy streets below.

Above us were perched pigeons, which kept the baby quite entertained. (“They get to see all the games without buying a ticket,” commented my eight-year-old.) At eye level in front of us, my son counted thirty-four planes landing. Also in the background was the site of the new Mets Stadium, which you can see being constructed in my picture above.

All the clapping, “w-a-v-ing”, chanting, and standing ovations were a thrill to participate in. The kids are excited about sharing their experience with their friends. And I knew my husband would be in a good mood, at least as long as their current success keeps up through the play-offs.

Today is Day Four in the 40 Days for Life Campaign.

A Child is Born

In print for four decades, A Child is Born, by Lennart Nilsson, is a work of science, art, and beauty. Using pioneering techniques in microphotography, Nilsson was able to show the world what life looked like from conception to birth.

His images have since been widely used by anti-abortion activists.
The 4th edition, coauthored by Lars Hamberger, includes additional photographs with new-and-improved ability to see inside the womb . I used this edition to show my daughters how their little sister was developing. The extremely detailed text allowed me to go into as much or as little detail as they desired.

Also from Nilsson is the 1983 documentary Miracle of Life, which WGBH calls the "most popular NOVA of all time." You could, of course, watch the sequel, 2001 Life's Greatest Miracle, online for free. You can also read a NOVA interview with Nilsson on his techniques and other projects.

Today is Day Three of the Forty Days for Life Campaign.

Fathers’ Rights, Then and Now

In 1854, Elizabeth Cady Stanton addressed the New York State Legislature.
“. . . .4th. Look at the position of woman as mother. . . . The father may apprentice his child, bind him out to a trade, without the mother’s consent – yea, in direct opposition to her most earnest entreaties, prayers and tears. . . . Moreover, the father, about to die, may bind out all his children wherever and to whomsoever he may see fit, and thus, in fact, will away the guardianship of all his children from the mother. . . . Thus, by your laws, the child is the absolute property of the father, wholly at his disposal in life or at death. . . .”

The 1854 women’s property measure was defeated, and again Stanton addressed the New York State Legislature in 1860, on the very eve of the Civil War. She compared the plight of women to that of the slaves in the South.
“. . . .Cuffy has no right to his children; they can be sold from him at any time. Mrs. Roe has no right to her children; they may be bound out to cancel a father’s debts of honor. The unborn child, even, by the last will of the father, may be placed under the guardianship of a stranger and a foreigner. . . .”

Finally, the New York State Married Women’s Property Act of 1860 became law. The above wrongs were set aright with the following clause:
“. . . .9. Every married woman is hereby constituted and declared to be the joint guardian of her children, with her husband, with equal powers, rights, and duties in regard to them, with the husband.”

[These documents appear in History of Woman Suffrage, Volume I., by Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, and Matilda Joslyn Gage (Rochester, NY, 1881). The six volume were reissued (Arno Press, NY, 1969).]

That was then; this is now. As the saying goes, “You’ve come a long way, baby.”

I offer the poem below as a reminder to pray for all the voiceless fathers who have lost their children to abortion.

The Would-Be Father
By Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold-Miller

He knocked
at the door
of her parents’ home
and asked to see his beloved.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea” –
her father refused.
“But she’s carrying my baby” –
the young man protested.
“Not if I can help it” –
the older man replied.
“But I love her –
I want to marry her –
We can make this work!”
cried the lad.
“You’re poor
and uneducated
with no prospects –
you’re a loser,”
said the father,
and slammed the door.
And he was that,
but not by choice.
For there was nothing he could do
to save his unborn child.
They tore it from him
before he could ever know
the child that was his.
His soul filled with sorrow
and left a hole
that could never be filled.
He looked at fathers
playing football with sons
or walking with their daughters
hand-in-hand.
Decades later,
married with children,
and grandchildren even,
he would still wonder
what could have been.
“Precious baby,
he prayed,
Angel in Heaven,
I never meant it to be so.
One day,
we will be united.
Until then,
you pray for me,
and help me to forgive.”

Today is Day One of the 40 Days For Life campaign.

40 Days for Life

89 cities in 33 states across the nation will unite in a fast called 40 Days for Life from September 26 - November 4. Check with your diocese to see its recommendations for upholding the fast.

In the Diocese of Rockville Centre, Bishop Murphy asks that during those days we not eat between meals on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. He also asks that we abstain from entertainment on Friday and Saturday nights and use that time to read scripture and pray for the restoration of respect for life.

There is also a beautiful prayer by Pope John Paul II that the Bishop asks us to recite during these 40 days after Holy Communion on Sundays and at all other Masses you attend during Respect Life Month:

O Mary,
bright dawn of the new world,
Mother of the living,
to you do we entrust the cause of life
Look Down, O Mother,
upon the vast numbers
of babies not allowed to be born,
of the poor whose lives are made difficult,
of men and women
who are victims of brutal violence,
of the elderly and the sick killed
by indifference or out of misguided mercy.

Grant that all who believe in your Son
may proclaim the Gospel of life
with honesty and love
to the people of our time.

Obtain for them the grace
to accept that Gospel
as a gift ever new,
the joy of celebrating it with gratitude
throughout their lives
and the courage to bear witness to it
resolutely, in order to build,
together with all people of good will,
the civilization of truth and love,
to the praise and glory of God,
the Creator and lover of life.

Amen

*************************************************
A NOTE ON FASTING FOR PREGNANT OR NURSING MOTHERS
*************************************************
I will be following a modified fast because I am a nursing mother. Please read on for the Catholic rules of fasting. (Emphasis added by me.)

"Fasting The law of fasting requires a Catholic from the 18th Birthday [Canon 97] to the 59th Birthday [i.e. the beginning of the 60th year, a year which will be completed on the 60th birthday] to reduce the amount of food eaten from normal. The Church defines this as one meal a day, and two smaller meals which if added together would not exceed the main meal in quantity. Such fasting is obligatory on Ash Wednesday and Good Friday. The fast is broken by eating between meals and by drinks which could be considered food (milk shakes, but not milk). Alcoholic beverages do not break the fast; however, they seem to be contrary to the spirit of doing penance.

Those who are excused from fast or abstinence Besides those outside the age limits, those of unsound mind, the sick, the frail, pregnant or nursing women according to need for meat or nourishment, manual laborers according to need, guests at a meal who cannot excuse themselves without giving great offense or causing enmity and other situations of moral or physical impossibility to observe the penitential discipline.

Aside from these minimum penitential requirements Catholics are encouraged to impose some personal penance on themselves at other times. It could be modeled after abstinence and fasting. A person could, for example, multiply the number of days they abstain. Some people give up meat entirely for religious motives (as opposed to those who give it up for health or other motives). Some religious orders, as a penance, never eat meat. Similarly, one could multiply the number of days that one fasted. The early Church had a practice of a Wednesday and Saturday fast. This fast could be the same as the Church's law (one main meal and two smaller ones) or stricter, even bread and water. Such freely chosen fasting could also consist in giving up something one enjoys - candy, soft drinks, smoking, that cocktail before supper, and so on. This is left to the individual.

One final consideration. Before all else we are obliged to perform the duties of our state in life. Any deprivation that would seriously hinder us in carrying out our work, as students, employees or parents would be contrary to the will of God."

---- Colin B. Donovan, STL

How Pro-Life are you?

Elitism and hypocrisy are alive and well in America.

There is a topic I have avoided since the start of writing this blog, although it is quite close to my heart. Indeed, the novel I have been slaving over has to do with this very subject. I wanted my blog to be uplifting to all mothers and focus on the positives.

I pray daily for the victims of abortion: the children, the mothers, the fathers, the grandparents, and society in general. With a conservative estimate of one-third of today’s women having at least one abortion, whether you like it or not, the reality is that out of your three best friends, one of them probably has had one. These women will have a life-long need of healing from the consequences of this choice.

I heard something today that truly incensed me. That is the ugly truth that young girls in our Catholic High Schools are being taken by their parents to commit abortions. In my head echoed a homily spoken a few years ago in my parish. The deacon challenged his listeners: How pro-Life are you, really? What would you do if you found out your teenage daughter was pregnant? Would you put your money where your mouth is?

Do these parents know that they are putting on their daughters a life sentence of guilt, as well as the physical consequences to their still-developing reproductive systems? If they think the child is too young to take care of a child, what about the emotional and spiritual weight of the act of voiding an innocent life?

This completely relates to the elitism that has long bothered me: first in the homeschooling world, then in the circle of Catholic School parents. It is the us-them mentality. The idea that our precious children would be corrupted by interacting with public schooled children.

I have known homeschooling parents who refused to allow their children to socialize with non-homeschoolers; now I have heard many Catholic School parents say that the public school children in their neighborhood would have a bad influence on their children. No wonder the public school parents seem to think of both homeschooling and private school parents, “What, the public school isn’t good enough for their children?” They think we think that way, because many of us do.

The primary reason I homeschooled first, and now send my children to Catholic school, has to do with the Culture in the classroom. I want my children to be in an atmosphere in which God permeates every subject. When not spoken of explicitly, there is the implicit assumption that God is present. In Science, He comes in as the Creator of the beautiful laws of the universe. In History, He is the one who has always been and always will be; who guides men’s hearts and actions. In Mathematics, He is the Ultimate Rule of Logic. In English, He is The Word.

There is a danger in assuming that our children will be shielded from bad behavior because the parents of the other children are willing to shell out $x to send them to the same school. I wonder now, what is worse: a high school in which pregnant teens proudly waddle down the halls, or one in which we pretend at innocence while hiding ugly truths?

No matter what schools our children attend, the responsibility for teaching the Theology of the Body lies with us, the parents. From the moment of birth, they learn that you value the bond of motherhood as God’s Divine Gift. It starts there, and “The Conversation” is not just one talk about “the birds and the bees”, but many, as you gently respond to their questions, letting them know they are encouraged to ask, begging them to come back for more. Movies, books, television, events in the life of their friends all can act as prompts for a continuation of this dialogue.

Please click on the advertisement of “Bella”, a pro-life movie that promises to be one you can take your daughter to and explore this topic together.

Northanger Abbey

Northanger Abbey, by Jane Austen, is not a difficult read. It is filled with humour and tongue-in-cheek commentaries on the art of writing novels.

Catherine Morland, undistinguished in any talents but raised with goodness and integrity, in a family of ten children, accompanies the childless Mr. and Mrs. Allen to Bath in the hopes of finding a suitable mate. She meets the witty and good Henry Tilney, and it is love at first sight. Unfortunately, she falls in with the Thorpes; she becomes best friends with the guileful Isabella and is courted by the odious John, “her friend’s brother and her brother’s friend. Isabella attaches herself to Catherine’s brother, only to break his heart with flirting with Henry’s older brother, Captain Tilney.

Eleonor Tilney, on the other hand, is a true friend, and Catherine enjoys a long vacation getting to know her better at the Tilney’s home at Northanger Abbey. Here she expects to find mystery and romance typical of her favorite horror novels; but her hopes are dashed as she finds the furnishings and peoples of the Abbey are quite modern and normal. She comes away with a better understanding of friendship, and learns to appreciate the beauty of a simple, uncomplicated life. There are few surprises in this story: the typical difficulties of obtaining parental consent to an engagement ensue, with a happy marriage at the end of the novel.

Although published posthumously, Northanger Abbey was actually written in 1797-8 under the title of Susan (not to be confused with Lady Susan, written in 1793-4), revised and sold in 1803 to a publisher who failed to publish it, reconsidered in 1816, and finally published a year later (but dated 1818) together with her true last novel, Persuasion.

In my reading of the text, there seemed to be subtle indications that Austen knew she was in the midst of writing her last novel. I was surprised to find how early in her career she actually began its writing. This leads me to believe that further revisions were made in her final year. (Modern physicians believe she may have suffered from Addison’s disease, the symptoms of which started in 1816.)

The contemporary view of writing, perhaps brought on by the simplicity of Hemingway, seems to be that short and simple is best. I love Austen’s long, complex sentences, in which one phrase builds upon another to make her point. Perhaps she could convey her meaning in fewer words; but if there be beauty in those words, I say we should keep them. To pare down into the fewest words certainly makes things easier for the reader. But some of us who are in love with the English language enjoy the work of getting through a half-page sentence. If we have to re-read it to understand its meaning, the fault lies not in the writer. We come away with an appreciation of her ability to describe most fully a landscape, an emotion, or the cause of someone’s behavior.

In Chapter 5, Austen inserts her strong opinion for a full page-and-a-half, explaining why she allows her heroine to enjoy the reading of novels. “For I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom, so common with novel-writers, of degrading, by their contemptuous censure, the very performances to the number of which they are themselves adding, joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust.”

Austen obviously held her own profession in the highest esteem. According to her, the well-written novel is a “work in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed, in which the most thorough knowledge of human nature, the happiest delineation of its varieties, the liveliest effusions of wit and humour, are conveyed to the world in the best-chosen language.” Novelists must support one another, she says. Nevertheless, there are several uncomplimentary references to the works of Ann Radcliffe and Fanny Burney, some of the popular writers of that period. Perhaps she felt that novels would be seen in a better light if more of them were written in her own style.

See my post on Austen's Times.

The Rock

“And so I say to you, you are Peter,
and upon this rock I will build my church,
and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.
I will give you the keys to the kingdom of heaven.
Whatever you bind on earth shall be bound in heaven;
and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven.”

Matthew 16:18-19

John Constable landscape masterpiece, English Romantic Painter, 1776-1837
Salisbury Cathedral from the Bishop's Grounds.
1823. Oil on canvas.
Victoria and Albert Museum, London

Painting the Rosary

My current project is not a very exciting one. I am staining the rails of the deck that comes off my kitchen. It is a job that needs to be done about every five years. With six sides to every spindle, working during the baby’s nap time, it typically takes me a few weeks to complete.

Putting on a new color is always very exciting. Even white-on-white can be a thrill, if the old white has gotten quite dingy. Brown-on-brown is quite dull. No one but me will ever notice the job has been done. However, once I get started, it is a job that I thoroughly enjoy.

People ask me why I don’t just spray-on or use a painting mitt. My answers are: (1) a brush always gives the best coverage on wood; (2) a brush offers more control; and (3) I enjoy using a brush. There is a fourth reason, as well. It brings back childhood memories.

When I was around ten years old, my father let me help him to build a deck. We bought the wood and a new router. He showed me how to route the edges of each slat to give it a sharper look. We designed the way the slats would go around the deck, and the way we wanted the tops to look. I believe we used cedar, but we went for a semi-transparent redwood stain. Every two years I would help him to stain the deck again.

The house was stained a brown cedar color – I would choose a similar shade in staining my own cedar shakes many years later. Dad explained why stain was better for wood than paint. The oils seep into the wood, preserving its moisture; paint sits on top of the wood and allows it to dry out.

Whether I am using stain or paint, the act of brushing either on offers me an opportunity for contemplation and prayer. I can use each thin slat of wood as a rosary bead, focusing on one intent per rail, until I come to a main rail, which I use as an Our Father bead.

I hope that all my family and friends felt blessed today, as you were each interceded for.

“Pray without ceasing.” I Thessalonians 5:17

Piero della Francesca (1420-92)
Adoration of the Holy Wood and the Meeting of Solomon and Queen of Sheba
c.1452; Fresco, San Francesco, Arezzo

Last Minute’s Notice

The phone rang at 8:20 on Monday morning.

I looked at the caller ID and my heart jumped a beat. When the children’s school is calling, the text might as well read, “EMERGENCY: YOUR CHILD”. I don’t know if this happens to other mothers. Being used to having my children ever in my care during my homeschooling years, I am still not completely at ease with entrusting them to others for an entire school day.

I picked up the phone. It was my daughter. “I have cross-country practice after school today,” she informed me. “The teacher said there was an email.”

“Okay honey,” I said, “I’ll be there after school. Have a nice day.”

I hung up the phone and sighed. I had looked for a notice from the team on Friday afternoon and, there being none, assumed I had another week before the season started.

Sundays during track season are very busy, and I often take a day off from the computer. We wake up early for a big pancake breakfast, go to church, drop Baby and Daddy home, and then head to the track for a four-hour meet. We end the afternoon with a backyard barbecue and the usual bedtime routine.

Nothing drives me crazier than last-minute schedule changes. I try not to schedule too much in one day, and then I work my way backwards from the day’s big event to sort out the rest of the day. Now my day’s plans had to be completely rearranged.

In order to be at the school at dismissal, I would have to put the baby down for a nap an hour earlier. That meant she would have to get some outdoor activity and a good breakfast in order to be tired-out enough to sleep. We also would have to fit in a morning trip to the drug store to pick up shock-absorbing athletic inserts for my long-distance runner’s sneakers.

For me, naptime would be taken up by getting together things needed for the other children: a change of clothes, snacks, and pencils to complete their homework. I also had to fetch the cross-country email from my computer, download the attached athletic permission form, and fax it to the school.

I always used to think that things like this only happened to mothers who failed to plan ahead. Mothers had to be on top of things. Those school notices buried on the bottom of the child’s school bag would never happen to me; or so I thought. No sooner than they walk in the door than I am looking in their folders. I even messed that up once this year.

Two Fridays ago, I neglected to look in my son’s folder when he walked in the door. I was on the telephone, and he had a headache. I hung up to tend to his headache, and completely forgot to check for homework. I would discover it at exactly 8:00 Sunday evening, as he kissed me goodnight and I looked in his backpack for his lunch bag. There were some other unpleasantries awaiting me there, including an apple core and empty juice box.

Most of our days our filled with little mundane details such as these. Whenever a wrench is thrown in the works, I have to offer it up to God. Although it is important to plan ahead, the unforeseeables still have to be dealt with. Every time this happens, I have to remember that He is in control.

“The sum of a man’s days is great
If it reaches a hundred years:
Like a drop of sea water,
Like a grain of sand,
So are these few years
Among the days of eternity.
That is why the Lord is patient with men
And showers upon them his mercy.”

Sirach 18:7-9

Pictured above: Haystacks at Giverny, Claude Monet, 1891
This painting is supposedly an impressionistic view of Time.

Joyfully Run Your Course

Our family has been involved in track-and-field and cross-country for a few years now. The season, which started last week, is marked by a feeling of exuberance in mind, spirit, and body. Everyone comes home feeling tired and sore, but happy.

I can see several parallels between running and the Christian walk. In running, if you finish the race you are always a winner. If you did your “personal best”, you have won first place in your own way. The sport is one in which a win for the individual is a win for the entire team.

Everything you do – on each and every day, not just race day - influences how you do in the race. The runner must watch everything he puts into his mouth. She must be early to bed and early to rise. It is a life of temperance. What is good for the mind, spirit, and body, is good for running. So too, the discipline and strength that is built by running will help a person not only in other sports but in many other spiritual, intellectual, and social aspects of life.

Christianity, too, is a way of life. It is marked not just by walking into the Church on Holy Days. Everything we say, think, see, hear, and feel feeds the soul and affects our relationships with God and others. God has given us a Book to let us know what is good for us. If we read this Book and absorb it into our hearts, it becomes a way of life that can only yield good.

“The heavens declare the glory of God;;
The sky proclaims its builder’s craft.
One day to the next conveys that message;
One night to the next imparts that knowledge.
There is no word or sound;
No voice is heard;
Yet their report goes forth through all the earth,
Their message, to the ends of the world.
God has pitched there a tent for the sun;
It comes forth like a bridegroom from his chamber,
And like an athlete joyfully runs its course.
From one end of the heavens it comes forth;
Its course runs through to the other;
Nothing escapes its heat.”

Psalms 19:1-7

Pictured above: "Runner and Spring Lupines", by Phil Dynan

School’s No Vacation for this Mom!

The last two nights were spent at open school nights: one for the middle school, and one for the elementary grades. Getting to these mandatory meetings is quite an ordeal for our family. The teachers still give out homework, which must be done earlier than usual; dinner finished and cleaned up; the children all set for bed. My self-employed husband must brave the “rush hour” to get home “early” at 7:00. I kiss the children goodbye and, as soon as his car pulls in the driveway, I am out the door.

The first night I was fifteen minutes late. The baby was fussing and giving me trouble about going to bed at 6:55. I finally had her asleep and was able to leave at 7:15. It takes a half hour to get to the school, park the car, and walk to the auditorium.

When I opened the door, it was clear I was the latest one, and they were in the middle of the opening prayer. Mortified, I closed the door behind me as quietly as I could. I imagined several people giving me dirty looks. (Imagined or not, given a choice between several hundred parents staring at me and leaving the house with the baby crying, I’ll choose the former every time.)

The second night I left just five minutes earlier, but the traffic lights worked with me and, if I had not gotten stuck waiting for a long train, I would have made it on time. Still, at 7:35, people had not yet sat themselves down, so I was okay. I made polite chit-cat with a school board member. “This must be like a vacation for you,” she commented, referring to my days with the kids in school.

“Believe it or not,” I told her, “I had more free time when all the kids were home for the summer!”

How quickly we all forget how much attention a baby needs the first few years of life. The active ones cannot be left alone for a second! I myself am guilty of forgetting this, as I have sometimes wondered why friends neglected to call for long periods of time after having a baby.

I go through my day logistically mapping every step in front of me. In the morning, I ask myself what chores I can accomplish with the baby with me. Today we ate breakfast together and went food shopping.

Because I cannot fit all our family’s food in one cart, I go through the store once, load up the car with the non-perishables; then go to the dairy and meats for a second run. The cashiers who are unfamiliar with me always make a funny comment when seeing me on their line for the second time. “Forget a few things?” When the baby fusses on the cashier line, I give her my cell phone and she happily pretends to talk to her daddy.

When we got back, I had to repeatedly place her in the farthest part of the living room away from the front door, then run to my car to get a few bags before she could get to the front door. A few times, she beat me to it, and I had to coax her away from the screen door so I could open it. After repeating this several times, I finally had the groceries loaded onto the kitchen table. I put her in the high chair with a banana while I quickly put the groceries away. Several times I had to stop what I was doing to rinse off the banana, which she kept throwing on the floor. Then I sat with her for my own lunch.

Finally, nap time. I am religious with our 12 to 2 nap time. I nurse her, put her down, and she is out. I think God made babies need naps because he knew mommies needed them to. This is the only time I have to myself until midnight.

Now I think to myself: what chores need to be done that I absolutely cannot accomplish with her with me? Sweeping or mopping the kitchen floor is always first on the list. Then bringing down the laundry. Today, for my major task I decided to clip the hedges in the front yard. I also chopped up the broccoli for dinner. I had a few moments to check my email and put up a post that I had already prepared ahead of time. I try to have most of the housework and errands completed before the kids get home from school. This way I can give them my full attention for the duration of the day.

The baby wakes up, we have a snack, and go out in the yard. At 3:20, we go out front and wait for the school bus. Although slightly fearful of the large yellow vehicle, her face lights up because she knows her siblings are home to play with her.

No homework this weekend – yay! We weeded and planted some bulbs together. We took the bunny for a walk around the yard. The kids played wiffle ball, until all the balls had landed in the pool. The baby played in the dirt, happy to get dirty and happier still to have a bath afterwards. It was another happy, productive, day in the life of this mom. I will sleep well tonight!

Pictured above: "The Menagerie" by Franz Sonderland

Our Lady of America

“Our Lady again appeared to me while I was at prayer. She held the world in her hands. From her eyes tears were flowing upon it, as though she longed to cleanse it from its guilt. It was then that I heard these words filled with sorrow and longing: "Behold, O my children, the tears of your Mother! Shall I weep in vain? Assuage the sorrow of my Heart over the ingratitude of sinful men by the love and chasteness of your lives. Will you do this for me, beloved children, or will you allow your Mother to weep in vain? I come to you, O children of America, as a last resort. I plead with you to listen to my voice. Cleanse your souls in the Precious Blood of My Son. Live in His Heart, and take me in that I may teach you to live in great purity of heart which is so pleasing to God. Be my army of chaste soldiers, ready to fight to the death to preserve the purity of your souls. I am the Immaculate One, Patroness of your land. Be my faithful children as I have been your faithful Mother. These are my words, O my daughter. Make them known to my children. I desire to make the whole of America my shrine by making every heart accessible to the love of my Son." "

Learn more about Our Lady of America.

"Old People No Good"

I was at St. Charles Hospital today for a blood lead test, now required in New York State for all infants. I was told to go to the waiting room. Seeing an elderly woman there, I guessed that she would enjoy looking at the baby. I situated myself in her line of vision. She asked me how old the baby was. She told me she was 83 and had three great-grandsons ages 9 months, 5 years, and 7 years. She had three daughters, and her husband had wanted a son. Now he had them in his progeny.

She then went on to tell me how her grandchildren, now in their thirties, had often been in touch in their childhood and teenage years. “When I was young and healthy, I would go to Macy’s and Sears and buy things for them. I was useful and they would call me all the time. Then I had a bypass operation a few years ago and I can’t get around so well. So they don’t call me anymore.”

In her thick Polish accent, she groaned, “Old people no good. . .You understand?. . .Old people no good.”

I hardly knew what to say, but I listened. Within a few minutes, I was called. I told her, “God bless you,” and she was gone from my life. But I wished I could tell her grandchildren, “Don’t you know what you are missing?”

I can’t reach them but I can tell whoever else may be listening.

“Cast me not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth. Now also when I am old and greyheaded, O God, forsake me not; until I have shewed thy strength unto this generation, and thy power to every one that is to come.”
Psalm 71:9

The Voyage of Life: Old Age
Thomas Cole, 1801-1848
Oil on Canvas

Steel the Moment

“Steel the Moment”: a phrase, coined by me, to describe:
1. The act of capturing a serene moment for later use;
2. The act of calling upon said memory when strength is needed.

As I came out of the pool today, I heard a rustling in the woods. I watched as the white tails of two deer disappeared further into the trees. One remained, staring at me without flinching. I kept still, maintaining eye contact, until he lost interest and turned to join his family.

Last week was a real challenge. With half-days of school, it seemed the children had just left when all-of-a-sudden they were back again. We did lots of talking about the kids and teachers. We made decisions about what extra-curricular activities we would participate in. We packed in as much fun as we could in the latter half of the day. It was exhausting.

Today was the first full day back to school, and my to-do list was long. Yet I was able to steal a few minutes to do a few laps in the pool, and feel all the better for it. As I walked back to the house after my interaction with the deer, I thought to myself, “Steel this moment.”

Last spring, when we were in the midst of baseball/softball season, my Nanna wrote me, asking if I could please telephone her when I could “steel a moment”. That typo was the serendipitous event that led to my coining of the phrase with a different meaning. I thought to myself, “Next time I feel frazzled I need to STEEL the moment.”

The coming weeks will be packed full of activity: meetings, sports, homework, and adjustment to new classes. It is imperative not only that we steal a few moments for ourselves, but that as we discover a moment of serenity we need to capture, freeze-frame, or “steel” that scene into our memory. In the near future when I am caught up in the non-stop running-around of autumn, I can call upon my reserve of serene moments and claim them for the strengthening I need at that point in time.

“But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness.’ I will rather boast most gladly of my weaknesses, in order that the power of Christ may dwell with me.”
2 Corinthians 12:9

“Fall – Whitetail Deer”, by Michael Sieve

Fifty-Seven Happy Years Together

Happy 57th Wedding Anniversary to my “Nanna and Poppop”, Mr. And Mrs. John S. Nagy! Dale is a registered nurse and John is a retired detective of the New York City Police Department. Nanna and Poppop enjoy golfing, dancing, bicycling, and spending time with their grandchildren.

“Set me as a seal on your heart,
As a seal on your arm;
For stern as death is love,
Relentless as the nether world is devotion;
Its flames are a blazing fire.
Deep waters cannot quench love,
Nor floods sweep it away.
Were one to offer all he owns to purchase love,
He would be roundly mocked.”
Song of Songs 8:6-7

Picture of Mr. and Mrs. John S. Nagy at picnic, October 2006

The Legacy of Conversation

“NEVER did I ever imagine that the genes in our bodies would take you into my brain and that of Pop's. As I get older, I see the specific genes at work in my children...and as my children age they are becoming aware that the forwardness of our genes are determined to "show-up" as they are called upon. This is true in not only thoughts and physicality but in the issues we defend or deplore. It is a wonder if we allow our minds to be open to the truth of how we feel, think, and look at the human spirit within us it shines through.”

These were the thoughts recently written by Dale Nagy, my grandmother (belovedly called “Nanna”), in reaction to my blog.

I was not surprised that my Nanna would see her own thoughts reflected in my writings. Ours was a family that never ceased talking. The television – there was only one in the house, down in the basement – was rarely on. We were busy doing things together, reading, and/or talking. Family stories were repeated over and over again until they felt like they were part of our own experiences. “Tell me again about the time when you and my aunt ran into the bee’s nest,” I would ask. I can really see that scene play out in my head, although it happened long before I was born.

Although I was not homeschooled and my parents were not involved in the school parent-teacher association, they truly were a part of my education. When I got home from school, they would ask me questions about my day. Not just general questions like “How was your day?”, but specific ones. “What did you learn new today? Tell me about your teacher. What are your friends’ names? What about the other kids?” When a problem arose, they would role-play with me so I could be better prepared with dealing with that situation on my own.

“Don’t they give you a summer reading list?” my father complained, “When I was in school I was learning Latin and reading great books like The Old Man and the Sea and Moby Dick…” He made those classics seem so important to a child’s development that I made sure to read them. Many years later we would compile a list of must-read-books for the good of my teenage brother. And I am still trying to learn a bit of Latin and Greek roots, along with the kids.

During the summer I would often spend a week or two with my Nanna and Poppop. I would take long walk with Poppop and his little hotdog-dog, Penny. “You’re funny,” I would tell him, and he would say, “No, you are.” Nanna would bake with me and play games with me. The whole time was spent sharing stories.

When parents and older relatives share their experiences with young ones, they might sometimes wonder if the kids are listening. Even if they tune out some of them, you can be sure most of it is getting through. Through a repetition of themes and values, the stories become a lesson on how things are in the world, how one can deal with problems that arise, the constancy of morals and how following them ultimately works out for the good.

The good of talking can also make possible that your values are infiltrating their thinking and actions, even when you are not there. Even if you must work long hours, do not volunteer at the school, or are only able to visit the grandchildren once a year, you can have a long-lasting influence on those who truly need it.

"Raise up a child in the way he should go;
And when is old, he will not depart from it.”
Proverbs 22:6

Picture of me with Nanna at my first daughter's First Communion in May 2005.

The Ocean

The Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End, the Shallow and the Deep, the Transparent and the Opaque. One thousand aspects of God, apparent paradoxes yet co-existing in scientific beauty, can be seen reflected in the Sea. One day it is calm and soothing; another day gentle yet playful; and yet another wild, turbulent, frightening. Unpredictable and untamed, He shows himself in the way he knows He is needed at the moment.

Autumn is the perfect time to visit the ocean. The crowds have long gone home, the sand is clean, and shells sit pristinely ready for the picking. If you have the opportunity to visit the sea, take it, and see what God has to tell you about His Nature.

“The waters of the sea were gathered as in a bowl;
in cellars the deep was confined.”
Psalm 33:7

Photograph taken by me at Smith Point Beach, Long Island, New York, yesterday.

Back to School Shopping

Yesterday morning the newspaper had an article about all the last minute shoppers. Good thing I had thought ahead, I thought smugly! I had all my supplies early – really I did. Yet I am drafting this blog in my trustee memo pad with a felt pen, whilst standing on a line after 9 PM the night before school starts.

Just this weekend I had told the cashier at the food store that I was thankful my kids wore uniforms and I was spared a big clothes shopping trip. “Just new shoes I guess?” she assumed. Uh oh. I hadn’t thought of that. I pushed it to the back of my mind.

After a day at the beach, I asked the kids to try on their uniforms. My eldest found her shoes under the bed and started coloring in the scuff marks with a black permanent marker. I had a flashback to a scene from the movie “Bridge to Terabithia”. She needed new shoes, and it was too late to take them all out. I waited until my husband got home, saw that they were tucked in bed at 8 PM, and took off for the store.

So here I am, just like everyone else. While in the store I realized that my son required a belt for first grade. I see young children in the store, rubbing their eyes. Shouldn’t they be home in bed? But I shouldn’t judge. Who knows why, like me, they were called out at the last minute, and had no one to leave the kids with. The loudspeaker is announcing the time is 9:15 and the store closes in 45 minutes. Hopefully I’ll be checked out by then (sigh).

Humility

“My son, conduct your affairs with humility,
And you will be loved more than a giver of gifts.
Humble yourself the more, the greater you are,
And you will find favor with God.
For great is the power of God;
By the humble he is glorified.”
Sirach 3:17-19

Today’s readings touched me on several levels. (The Gospel spoke of giving up the head-of-the-table seat to someone more important.)

I. The Humility of Motherhood

On this Earth, there is no job more humbling and more elevating than that of Mother. I think of the ten days last April when my older three children took turns with a four-day stomach virus. I was up day and night cleaning up vomit, consoling them, and giving the baby extra breastmilk to boost her immunity. On the opposite side of the spectrum, there was the day my firstborn read me her first book – and I knew I had taught it to her. Or, more recently, the day she confided in me her hopes and fears for the future. Tonight we finished reading aloud a wonderful book to all the children, and I knew I had planted fascinating seeds for thought. (As I write, I just got handed a tooth. Looks like I'll be playing the tooth fairy tonight.)

We honour Mary not for one specific thing she did, but for who she is – the Mother of the Son of God. She humbled herself to receive the gift of motherhood, and for that she is elevated. Everyday we can look to Mary as the ultimate model for who we should be as mothers. We can remember that it is not the great earthly things we do that matter, but that we just be spiritually present to our children.

II. The Humility of Writing

Writers are of an interesting breed, full of subtle ironies. Most of us tend toward introspection. Yet we seek publication, to set our mark on the world. The Christian writer may earnestly work toward getting an important message out to the world. Yet he must ultimately self-promote in order to further that end.

In the movie, “The Singing Nun”, a sister with a guitar, the only vestige left of her family, becomes famous for her beautiful hymns. In the end, realizing that vanity has caught hold of her and kept her from her true ministry, she gives up her guitar completely.

For us, the battle with humility will likely be a lifelong one. We are called upon to use our gifts to help others, yet must be sure the glory goes to our Maker, not ourselves.

III. The Humility of Volunteerism

I have taken a hiatus from volunteering in both church and school, while caring for an infant. I remember those who said, “Volunteering is a thankless job,” and seemed to be put-out by all their efforts. We are called to “do all that we do with a cheerful countenance”. While recognizing that our job is important, we must not feel self-important.

Heavenly Father,
Help me to give of my gifts
Cheerfully,
Humbly,
And in a manner that will always glorify you.
Amen.

Pictured above: “Vanity”, by John George Brown

What's in a Name?

If I had been a boy, my name would have been Nevada. My Mom is eternally grateful that I was a girl. She named me Elizabeth, which means “consecrated to God”. She says that is what she did when she found out I had been conceived. My Dad was afraid people would sully my beautiful name by shortening it to Liz, Beth, or Betsy. So he called me Lisa, which is a derivative of Elizabeth. He explained this to all my teachers, and I grew up being called Lisa. (Once he teased that he would call me "Lee" and take me to work at his construction site - I thought this would be fun, but he was just kidding.)

My middle name, Kathryn, means "pure".

Gerold is my maiden name, and Miller is my married name.

In real life, I do not hyphenate my name. The reason I do so on my blog is basically to "hedge my bets".

In high school I remember someone saying, "Elizabeth Kathryn Gerold is such a literary-sounding name!" I actually kept my maiden name for a full five years because I felt it was part of my identity. Then I had it changed to Miller.

So far, I have submitted all of my works in the name of Miller. However, I had always thought I would publish my novels in the name of Gerold. I also thought about Elizabeth Gerold Miller, except that would remove my beloved middle name.

I would love to hear what my readers think.

Thirty-Five

“You formed my inmost being;
You knit me in my mother’s womb.
I praise you, so wonderfully you made me;
Wonderful are your works!
My very self you knew;
My bones were not hidden from you,
When I was being made in secret,
Fashioned as in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes foresaw my actions;
In your book all are written down;
My days were shaped, before one came to be.”
Psalm 139:13-16

I never had difficulty with an upcoming birthday before this year. At 30, I felt I had accomplished much and was looking forward to what the next decade held for me. But as this summer approached, 35 seemed to loom over me like a grey cloud threatening a thunderstorm. I started seeing furrows in my forehead and wrinkles around my eyes.

A close friend, age 41, said she also felt like 25 and 35 were big turns of age. It was like she was mentally rounding up to the next decade. So at 35 it felt like she was nearing 40 for a whole five years. By the time she was 40 it was no big deal; she had had five years to get used to the idea.

I reread “The Golden Key”, by George MacDonald, in perfect time for this milestone. The fairytale made me see aging in a whole new light, as a journey to the afterlife, with both wisdom and beauty increasing with age. I started noticing more ads for Botox, fillers, and plastic surgery. I was disgusted at the shallow, empty promises of a false face hiding one’s true self that should emerge with the passing of each decade.

Sitting at the beach this evening, I thought of the joy that accompanies the wisdom of age. For in youth there is a confusion and uncertainty, hidden by nonstop activity and endless energy. With age we become more certain of what we treasure; if that be truly valuable in God’s sense and not the world’s, the security of what we hold brings serenity.

As we realize we are indeed aging, certain new fears may emerge – such as fears of heights that never existed before; and the fear of death, nonpresent in our youth (“We’re only immortal for a limited time,” sings RUSH) makes us appreciate the life that we have. As our parents grow older we come to appreciate them even more.

And so I do believe that as we grow older our capacity for true happiness actually increases.

I very much would like to hear what my readers have to say on the subject!

A Thank You to my Readers

“But you must understand that no one ever gives anything to another properly and really without keeping it… Of one thing you may be sure, that while you hold it, I hold it too.”

These are the words spoken by Princess Irene’s great-great-grandmother in “The Princess and the Goblin”, by George MacDonald, when she gifts her a ring that holds one end of a magical string, the ball of which the old lady keeps within her own cabinet.

On this the eve of my 35th birthday, I am honored to accept an award from my friend Leticia. She has nominated me for the Nice Matters Bloggers Award.

“This award is for those bloggers who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are a positive influence on our blogging world. Once you’ve been awarded please pass on to seven others whom you feel are deserving of this award”.

I in turn would like to nominate the following bloggers who have both inspired and encouraged me:

1. Leticia Velasquez, my dear friend, at Cause of Our Joy

2. Joanna Gerold, my sister, at Part of Something

3. Chris Cummings, her fiancé, at Inside Out

4. Angie, who also hosts Catholic Mothers Online, at Many Little Blessings

5. Alice Gunther, at Cottage Blessings, whom I originally knew as host of Immaculate Holy Mother Homeschool Yahoo Group.

6. Natalie, one of my new readers from British Columbia, Canada, hosts a blog called Bigger Families; Faces from the Past, where she features old photos of bigger families. She is looking for contributions from other family archives.

7. Michelle Harmon at Downblogger for her beautiful poem, "No Greater Love than to Lay Down Your Life".

What is a writer? Or, more correctly, who is a writer?

If you have a child, you are a mother. Noone asks, “Have I heard of your child? Is he famous? How many children have you had? What do the critics think of your children? Are you a good mother?” to qualify you as worthy of the title Mother.

For many years I have shied away from calling myself a writer. I knew I was one, for a writer is one who writes, but I was embarrassed. I did not want to be perceived as a “wannabe”. I had not done much publishing since my college years, when I wrote for the student paper and published a thesis. So I was afraid of the polite questions people ask when you pronounce yourself a writer.

I longed to tell the world, “I am a writer! I am a writer!” I yearned to talk about what I was writing, yet was afraid it would interfere with the “creative process”. And so I kept it secret, confiding my dreams to only a select few friends.

When I declared my intentions to stop homeschooling, people started asking me what I planned to do with my “spare time”. Never mind that I had a new baby coming – I still felt I had to explain away my time. For Mothers are not seen as productive – we just are who we are.

And so I “came out”, in a gradual way. I told people I would be working on my unfinished novels. On the children’s school applications, I put down my occupation as “Freelance Writer”.

How much writing did I really do during the last school year? Not much - other than keeping my daily journal. I have written in earlier posts about the difficulties I had to battle this year. When one is tired from a baby who refuses to sleep all night, and in chronic pain from recovery from a car accident, it is hard to be be creative with your words, and physically difficult to sit at a computer for long periods of time.

As June approached, I realized with horror that I had not mailed out any proposals all year. In that last week before school let out, the fire got into my belly. I turned out five items and sent them out – hoping a little in their success, but mostly just proud that I had produced them and put them out there.

Then I took out every library book that could be had on marketing. By the time I got through those, I had had enough of reading about writing. I was ready to just write.

And then I heard about the blogosphere, through my friend Leticia. It took just five minutes to set up my own account, and I was thrust into a new phase of my writing career. Frankly, I was surprised at the amount of writing I was able to do with all of the kids home. Yet I would write in my head all day and the moment the kids were in bed I would turn on my computer. And I would be doing what I loved. (One of these days someone will come up with a thought recorder that you can attach to your head. Then you could write with ease while cooking, swimming, and playing with your kids.)

In just over a month of blogging, I have received much more than the public recognition I had long hoped for. I feel I have been liberated in such a fundamental way. My readers and I have both given and received encouragement and inspiration to and from each other. And so I thank you, my readers, for without you this would not have been possible.

“Edify one another.” – St. Paul