Statistics: Who Needs Them ?

"A passion for statistics is the earmark of a literate people." - Paul Fisher

My newest project is that of calculating statistics for the softball league and posting them to the sports website. When I got the first batch of numbers, I had to ask my husband what they all meant and he happily brought me our huge hardcopy of John Thorn’s “Total Baseball: The Official Encyclopedia of Major League Baseball” so that I could fully understand and appreciate the history behind the stats tables.

I got the first table up and went outside, hoping I had gotten it right. I’m one of those people who can’t sleep if a little detail is wrong. “What’s the big deal – it’s just a little girl’s game, right?” I imagined what someone might say if they knew how worked up I had gotten about getting it right. Then I remembered back to the statistics courses I had taken, and eventually student-taught, as part of my psychology degree. “Why do we have to know all this? Of what use are all these calculations?” students would constantly moan.

One of the basic calculations is that of the average. Average can statistically mean one of several things, and if you don’t know that you will walk through life letting the newspapers report to you whichever of those fits the news they want you to believe. It can mean “mode”, or the most recurring number or other value, as in: The average person has brown hair. It can mean “median”, or the number that falls right in the middle, as in: The average person lives in a $200,000 house. The only type of average that mathematically means anything is that of “mean”, which is the sum divided by the number of values, usually resulting in a decimal, as in: The average person has 2.2 kids and half a dog.

Statistics can be as accurate as you want them to be. My professor used to tease me because I always liked to carry my calculations to the third decimal. The decimals can go on and on as far as you want to take them.

Statistics are used to objectify information that is used for decision-making. How do we know who is the best teacher, best student, or best ball player? By their statistics. This takes out the human factor so that everyone can see a rational justification for someone being appointed for a position or an award. Statistics make things fair.

Statistics are used by scientists to study the world. Every experiment is analyzed by statistics to come up with scientific conclusions. Lots of experiments are repeated and meta-analyzed to further generalize a theory. Statistics help us to discover and understand about God’s creation.

Little kids playing baseball or softball can look at their numbers and know that they can improve them through practice. As they see their decimals increase in value they can have the satisfaction that comes with improving their game, just as a runner strives to decrease the time it takes to run a mile.

Statistics speak the truth and enlighten us towards wisdom – and all that testifies to the light comes from God.

Proverbs
Chapter 8 (NAB)
1
Does not Wisdom call, and Understanding raise her voice?
2
On the top of the heights along the road, at the crossroads she takes her stand;
3
By the gates at the approaches of the city, in the entryways she cries aloud:
4
"To you, O men, I call; my appeal is to the children of men.
5
You simple ones, gain resource, you fools, gain sense.
6
"Give heed! for noble things I speak; honesty opens my lips.
7
Yes, the truth my mouth recounts, but the wickedness my lips abhor.
8
Sincere are all the words of my mouth, no one of them is wily or crooked;
9
All of them are plain to the man of intelligence, and right to those who attain knowledge.
10
Receive my instruction in preference to silver, and knowledge rather than choice gold.
11
(For Wisdom is better than corals, and no choice possessions can compare with her.)
12
"I, Wisdom, dwell with experience, and judicious knowledge I attain.
13
(The fear of the LORD is to hate evil;) Pride, arrogance, the evil way, and the perverse mouth I hate.
14
Mine are counsel and advice; Mine is strength; I am understanding.
15
By me kings reign, and lawgivers establish justice;
16
By me princes govern, and nobles; all the rulers of earth.
17
"Those who love me I also love, and those who seek me find me.
18
With me are riches and honor, enduring wealth and prosperity.
19
My fruit is better than gold, yes, than pure gold, and my revenue than choice silver.
20
On the way of duty I walk, along the paths of justice,
21
Granting wealth to those who love me, and filling their treasuries.
22
"The LORD begot me, the first-born of his ways, the forerunner of his prodigies of long ago;
23
From of old I was poured forth, at the first, before the earth.
24
When there were no depths I was brought forth, when there were no fountains or springs of water;
25
Before the mountains were settled into place, before the hills, I was brought forth;
26
While as yet the earth and the fields were not made, nor the first clods of the world.
27
"When he established the heavens I was there, when he marked out the vault over the face of the deep;
28
When he made firm the skies above, when he fixed fast the foundations of the earth;
29
When he set for the sea its limit, so that the waters should not transgress his command;
30
Then was I beside him as his craftsman, and I was his delight day by day, Playing before him all the while,
31
playing on the surface of his earth; and I found delight in the sons of men.
32
"So now, O children, listen to me;
33
instruction and wisdom do not reject! Happy the man who obeys me, and happy those who keep my ways,
34
Happy the man watching daily at my gates, waiting at my doorposts;
35
For he who finds me finds life, and wins favor from the LORD;
36
But he who misses me harms himself; all who hate me love death."

Picture: Audrey at bat at a travel game Columbus Day Weekend 2009.

Run/Walk for the Unborn Memorial Day Anywhere

This is a shadow event to raise money for the prolife cause. Register at the website and then organize your own walk or run anywhere at 9 AM on Memorial Day. I will be organizing one on Eastern Long Island. If you are interested please email me at ekgeroldmiller@gmail.com

Being the Underdog

“If you can accept losing, you can't win.” – Vince Lombardi

When watching a sports game in which none of our favorite teams are playing, Kevin always likes to root for the underdog. It is just great to see a small name team come out on top and surprise everyone. This takes on a whole new dimension when the underdog is your own child. Last year I wrote about how my daughter’s in-house softball team came back from a 0-16 season and beat the 16-0 team in the playoff game. Little did we know what a year we would be in for with travel ball.

Last summer our town league started its first travel softball team. The manager warned us that it would be a tough first season, with a new team playing against much more experienced girls. It was harder than any of us imagined, with our girls playing their hearts out and still losing with scores like 28-2, night after night and week after week.

I had to convince myself that I didn’t care about winning – I just wanted to watch my girls play their best and improve their skills. “Hope deferred maketh the heart sick” it says in Proverbs – so I just stopped hoping we would win and got used to losing.

By the end of the season, many of our girls had improved so much that they tried out for other more established teams and were picked up. We were left with a core group of loyal girls – girls that could have made it onto Division I teams but wanted to stay with their coaches – and parents who wanted to stay local and pay local prices. These girls and their coaches worked hard all through the winter.

The managers worked hard to organize a spring travel season – on top of in-house – putting on an optimistic air externally but secretly fearing another losing streak. These underdogs played their first double-header set of travel games on Sunday.

The pitcher in the first game was the same girl who helped us win that playoff game I wrote about last year. By the third inning we were so far ahead that we were sure we would “mercy” them by the fifth inning. (If a team is 12 runs ahead after the fourth inning, they win by the “mercy rule”.) But in the fourth inning our girls got sloppy and allowed the other team several runs. We thought our coach was going to have a heart attack. We caught up our runs and won 22-17.

The pitcher in the second game was my daughter Audrey. She shut them out from scoring any runs the first three innings. By the fourth inning she was tired and a few runs were allowed. We won 16-5.

What a thrill it was for all of us.

We don’t do our kids any favors if we make things too easy for them. The parents who stuck by the underdog team allowed their children the sweet taste of victory that is even sweeter when gotten the hard way.

Competition is a great way to teach important lessons about adversity in life and the strength we gain every time we put up a good fight.

Sirach
Chapter 2
1
My son, when you come to serve the LORD, prepare yourself for trials.
2
Be sincere of heart and steadfast, undisturbed in time of adversity.
3
Cling to him, forsake him not; thus will your future be great.
4
Accept whatever befalls you, in crushing misfortune be patient;
5
For in fire gold is tested, and worthy men in the crucible of humiliation.
6
Trust God and he will help you; make straight your ways and hope in him.
7
You who fear the LORD, wait for his mercy, turn not away lest you fall.
8
You who fear the LORD, trust him, and your reward will not be lost.
9
You who fear the LORD, hope for good things, for lasting joy and mercy.
10
Study the generations long past and understand; has anyone hoped in the LORD and been disappointed? Has anyone persevered in his fear and been forsaken? has anyone called upon him and been rebuffed?

A Natural Woman

This is a guest post from Kimberly Zook, editor-in-chief at The Motherhood Muse. One commenter will receive a free subscription (see below).

In the first issue of The Motherhood Muse literary magazine, we published an essay titled “The Natural Mother onus,” written by Caroline Poser. This essay came from her book, MotherMorphosis, and after reading the essay and book I began to ask myself “How is a natural mother different from a natural woman?”

My first introduction to the idea of a ‘natural mother’ came well before when we were living in Canada. My husband and I arrived at our prenatal class reunion with our 1-month-old baby. The nine other moms and I were first shuffled onto a patio deck with our little ones to get a group photo. Every mom stood there beaming holding happy, quiet babies while I stood there smiling with uncertainty as I held on to my screaming, colicky baby. As we moved indoors to the next room our daughter’s cries drew curious, confused and concerned looks from all the newbie parents. My husband and I did not know any different as our daughter had been crying from colic since the day she was born. We left soon after arriving to calm our baby. On our drive home I looked at the photos in our digital camera, and that’s when it hit me: the other moms looked like naturals. I, on the other hand, looked like I was barely hanging on.

I still see moms at the playground who have it all together: polite kids in clean, matching clothes, a stroller packed with snacks and sippy cups, a humorous comment about last night’s date with her husband to another mom, abundant energy to chase the children, coordination to speak in coherent sentences while changing a diaper and keeping an eye on the other children, a body resembling pre-pregnancy, a face glowing of health, and an overall aura of togetherness. A natural mother.

I usually sigh, tuck my disheveled hair back behind my ears, avoid eye contact with the spit-up stain on my shoulder and bend over to continue digging in the sandbox with my two daughters. I’m lucky if I get a shower every three days, find matching socks for my daughters, remember to pack clean diapers before leaving the house, get my older daughter to eat any of the snacks I brought and recall what my husband and I talked about the night before. Motherhood is a work-in-progress for me.

I should be honest that parts of it have felt natural for me. Like nursing, cuddling, protecting and loving. But I struggle with everything else.

After reading “The Natural Mother onus” by Caroline Poser I decided to create the feature in The Motherhood Muse literary magazine called “A Natural Woman.” I created this feature for all moms who struggle with motherhood and feel unnatural at it.

I decided to call this feature “A Natural Woman,” because in the moments when I am feeling stressed, tired, or frustrated as a mom I often seek that deep, often lost and forgotten part of me that is just me. Me before children. Me as a woman. Who was I? Who am I now?

It is nature who helps me reconnect to that hidden, former part of myself.

After a day of tantrums, unfinished laundry, unanswered emails, crumbs stuck to the soles of my socks, no naps, a frozen dinner, and too much chocolate, I find the only way I can calm down is to open the front door and stand outside in the night air. Sometimes I only get the time and space to only think about nature, but in so doing it centers me. Nature still nurtures me, me as a woman. In the peace that it brings my mind and heart, nature gives me the chance to think about who I am.

The goal of The Motherhood Muse is to help mothers reconnect with nature for many reasons, one being for ourselves. The literature published in our magazine aims to do so by connecting readers to experiences of parenting and nature. Readers, however, may not always put themselves in the shoes of the author, which may not bridge a personal connection to nature. To do so, readers will find the feature “A Natural Woman” helps them to question how nature nurtures who they are and how being a mother influences their relationship with nature. I hope this feature will help every mother find a way to feel the natural connection we have with our environment.

“The Natural Woman” feature is open to anyone who wishes to write about themselves or interview another individual. If you are interested in being featured in this piece in our magazine or know of someone who might be, please email me at editor@themotherhoodmuse.com

Thank you for joining us here today and we look forward to your comments! One winner will receive a free subscription to the 2010 issues! To continue on this blog tour with us, please visit themotherhoodmuse.com for our blog tour schedule.

Under the Boards

“If you don’t behave,” my Dad said to me sternly but half-jokingly, “We are going to cut your hair short, dress you like a boy, and have you come build houses for me. We’ll call you Lee.”

“Really?” I answered, thinking that would be great fun.

I was eight years old. I wouldn’t have a sibling until I was eleven, so my parents each imparted to me what skills they had, regardless of traditional gender roles. Mom taught me to sew; Dad taught me to cut wood with an electric saw. Mom taught me to be a lady; Dad taught me to think like a business man.

When I found out my first baby was going to be a girl, I decided she was not going to be a girly-girl. The woman who sold me a gallon of blue paint looked at my third-trimester tummy and knowingly commented, “You’re having a boy?”

“No, a girl. I like blue,” I said, defiantly.

Almost thirteen years later, I sat today watching my lovely young lady at the basketball awards party. She is two inches taller than me and absolutely beautiful. She carries herself with confidence. She is smart and athletic and knows it; yet she is too friendly for anyone to think she is conceited.

The coach introduced his award for Most Improved. “This player never played basketball before, and learned it fast. She took a beating under the boards, especially defending against those Southampton girls…” I knew he was going to say Audrey Miller.

I thought back to those big game moments that might have made a mother tremble with worry, or anger, or both; when she fought as if for her life under the basket to get the ball back to whoever on her team could get it down to the other end; when she was elbowed, scratched, and knocked to the ground, hard; and she retrieved that ball, held onto it as long as necessary, and expertly passed it off.

I was never worried because I knew she could take it; and I was proud of her for taking it; and I knew that every time she did this she would become stronger, both as a player and as a person.

I think of all the times people have told me that God gives us trials to make us stronger, and only gives us what He knows we can handle. Suddenly I realize that I have understood this along; that this is how I have been raising my kids because instinctively I knew this to be true.

James 1:2-4 (NAB) says: “Consider it all joy, my brothers, when you encounter various trials, for you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. And let perseverance be perfect, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”

Let us all take those beatings under the boards with strength and grace. The ball is in our court.

Picture above is of the girls' basketball team captains: Audrey is the first on the left.

No Turning Back: A Witness to Mercy (A Book Review)

Father Donald H. Calloway, MIC, has written an autobiographical book about his conversion from a drug-addicted teenager with a criminal record to a well-spoken priest responsible for helping to form young men for the priesthood. He now travels quite extensively bringing the moving and inspiring story of “No Turning Back: A Witness to Mercy” far and wide.

This book has an important message for a wide audience, both worldly and religious, but I will tell about reading it from a mother’s perspective. Father Calloway and I don’t have much in common except for being born in 1972 and loving the beach. I don’t as a general rule read autobiographies, books by priests, or conversion stories, and yet this narrative had me from page one.

Father Calloway introduces himself as a priest with an important testimony about the Divine Mercy and the radical changes it has brought into his own life. Then he dives into the midst of his teenage drama as he is being caught by the military police in Japan. He is a migrant military-child-brat who loves surfing, girls, and drugs; he will steal without compunction to get what he wants. The story is unbelievably captivating. As I read this I was thinking to myself that here is this now-very-educated, spiritual, and well-spoken man telling this story, relating the thoughts of his younger self that was so ignorant, worldly, and unsocial; and I was wondering how on earth this was possible.

As he relates the details of his upbringing, it is obvious that the constant uprooting from place to place and step-father to step-father has a great deal to do with his rebellion from his parents. Yet he never blames his mother for the hard decisions she had to make, and gives her credit for always taking him back with open loving arms, and patiently waiting for him to come back both to her and to God. He compares her to Saint Monica, who prayed endlessly for her son Augustine; he was a great sinner who eventually became one of the most esteemed of the Church’s scholarly saints. His mother’s present husband he compares to Joseph, who quietly and loyally supported Mary and Jesus.

About three-fifths through, after reading how he went from one rock bottom to another and wondering how low he has to go before he changes, the reader is hit by the same “Divine two-by-four” that hit Father Calloway in the head. One night he stays in his parents’ home alone and reads a book about Mary that they had in their bookshelves. He reads all night and then in the morning tells his mother he needs to speak to a Catholic priest. Seeing the extraordinary event that has happened to him, she tells him to RUN to the military priest. When he goes to Mass he miraculously understands the mystery of the Eucharist and that day is converted.

When I read this part, I was sitting on the beach watching my three-year-old play on the playground, surrounded by other moms and children. The way his conversion happens is so beautiful and amazing it was all I could do to not freak everybody out by crying right there. He makes it clear how a Catholic conversion through Mary and Jesus is fundamentally different from what is understood as the Evangelical-defined “born-again” experience. From that point, Father Calloway details the journey from his calling to the priesthood to where he is now.

The whole story was so compelling and insightful. I would recommend it to any teen or adult.

For more information see the author's website at http://www.fathercalloway.com/books/ntbbk.php

Father Calloway sent me this book in exchange for my honest review.

The Young People's Book of Saints

The Young People’s Book of Saints by Hugh Ross Williamson is a compilation of 63 saints of the Western Church from the first through the twentieth century. Originally published in 1960 by Hawthorne Books, it is now available as an ARKive Edition from Sophia Institute Press.

Starting at the year 58 A.D. with St. James the Greater and ending with St. Frances Xavier Cabrini in 1850, Williamson strings the stories along in chronological order, traveling from country to country and from the houses of kings to those of servants. He tells the essentials of their lives, not sparing the sorrowful details of their deaths, but in a matter-of-fact way that respects the way children can absorb this information. Many details and higher concepts are included that often are left out in more modern texts; the author realizes that children indeed are capable of understanding. The illustrations by Sheila Connelly are appealing to children and display the individual traits of each of the saints quite well.

I have taken my time in writing this review because I wanted to read it for myself, as well as present the material to children in different forums to see how they reacted to the stories within. I was pleased with the organization of its content, the selection of saints, and the way their stories were told. I used several of the stories in my Little Flowers group, which is a Catholic girls’ group composed of girls ages 5 through 12, in teaching about the saints and their virtues. I also had my eight-year-old son read some of the stories for his Blue Knights group, a Catholic boys’ group that also learns about saints and their virtues. The children both understood and enjoyed the stories.

Each chapter can be read on its own, as I did with my groups of children. When read from pages 1 through 239, however, this could be used as part of a Church History or World History course in a homeschool. The book would also make the perfect gift for a birthday, First Communion, or special achievement for a special child in your life.

This review was written as part of the Catholic book Reviewer program from The Catholic Company. The company sent me the book in exchange for my honest review. Visit The Catholic Company to find more information on The Young People’s Book of Saints.

What I Gave up for Lent: "Feeling Aggravated"

Kids pulling on both ends of an elephant

I gave up “feeling aggravated” for Lent.

I had not made up my mind what I was going to do until after we had been to church on Ash Wednesday. Giving up a physical thing seemed to be meaningless. Giving of one’s time/material goods are things that should be done year-round. A true sacrifice that also meant acquiring a virtue seemed to be what I needed to do.

Some days I seem to breeze on through, feeling grateful for my beautiful family, nature, and all else God has given me. Other days I feel besieged by children who refuse to cooperate, incompetent clerks, people who have problems communicating clearly, and people who bounce checks.

Normally my blood pressure runs about 110/70, a very healthy number, but when I start to get aggravated I can literally feel my blood boil. I actually registered at 130/80 (“prehypertensive”) one morning when I was feeling like this. I know this is not a healthy state either physically or spiritually. I also wonder how I could allow external circumstances to alter my internal state of peace.

St. Therese of Liseaux wrote in “The Story of a Soul” of her frustrations dealing with the sisters she lived with. They would torture her in all the little ways they could, taking away what little comforts she could possibly have in her monastic lifestyle. She would respond by praying for them, and by trying to learn how to love them better. She actually had to avoid one sister for a while, for fear of saying or doing the wrong thing; but she eventually got so good at loving the good in her that the sister thought she was one of Therese’s favored ones.

Did Therese actually feel aggravated? Probably – she also wrote that it wasn’t wrong to feel a certain way except for how it makes you respond. Some days I think that if I didn’t have to deal with any people I would never get aggravated. That wouldn’t be too practical though.

One day I went ice skating alone with my three-year-old; another day we fell asleep on an early spring day in the sun. “Isn’t life wonderful,” I would think, and vow to hold onto that feeling when times got tough. Playing ball with my kids I also forget all that is bothering me – there is no sound but the cracking of the bat in my brain. Running also clears my mind, and leaves me with a sense of well-being for much of the day. “Maybe I should just stick to these activities that make me feel peaceful,” I think. Or I could live in the real world.

One morning I was doing fairly well. My kids came home from a half day and I had to lean on them to get them to finish their education fair projects. Within a half hour I was yelling, feeling at the end of my rope with one of them. I thought of my resolution. “Does EXASPERATED count?” I thought. I lost it about ten times that day.

In casual conversation, I have been mentioning my resolution with other moms. They usually think I’m joking. “Good luck with that,” they say.

One of my Facebook friends,Br. Cassian Sama, commented:
"Don't worry my friend! Struggling with impatience is God's way of telling you that he wants to bless you in that virtue. If you don't give up and continue to strive for it, then you can easily attain the rest of the virtues that will make you the holy wife, mother, and woman God has destined you to be. For Patience is the engine and force that gives life to all virtues."

Today I received a rejection letter for my book proposal. It was a “good” letter because it said some nice things about the merits of my book – but it still is kind of like winning the silver medal in the Olympic hockey game. Close, but no cigar. This scripture speaks to me on my handling of both “aggravation” and disappointment.

Romans
Chapter 5
1 Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ,
2 through whom we have gained access (by faith) to this grace in which we stand, and we boast in hope of the glory of God.
3 Not only that, but we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance,
4 and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope,
5 and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

17 Again: A Movie Review

[Spoiler alert.]

In "17 Again", Zac Efron plays Mike O’Donnell, the once-college-bound athlete with promises of a “free ride” scholarship, who later thinks that he threw it all away to marry his pregnant girlfriend Scarlett. At the age of 17 his girlfriend tells him of her pregnancy right before the biggest game of his life. With the scouts watching and his girlfriend walking away, he walks off the court to chase after her and ask her to marry him.

Flash forward to middle-age, wherein Mike (now played by Michael Perry) has a nowhere job and does nothing but complain about his family life. His wife (Scarlett, played by Leslie Mann) throws him out and he is forced to move in with his wealthy software genius nerd and best friend Ned Freedman (Thomas Lennon). He walks to the high school to reminisce. There a mysterious janitor apparently casts a spell on him and he meets with an accident that transforms himself into his 17-year-old self. He is still, however, in his own time.

After he convinces Ned that he is himself, Ned enrolls him in the high school, thinking he is meant to live out the basketball-college-star-dream he was once on track for. However, Mike soon realizes that his true path is to help his own children, who are also presently enrolled in the same school. His daughter is dating a boy who is pressuring her to have sex, and his son is a talented basketball player who just needs a confidence boost to get himself on the team and make some friends. Mike is able to befriend his children in a way he would not have been able to in the state of their previous father-child relationship.

Meanwhile, Scarlett is starting to date, while forced to remember the good old days because of the haunting presence of this young man who looks exactly like her husband did when he was 17. Things escalate to the point of divorce proceedings before all is made right. The kids’ problems are solved, Scarlett and Mike fall back in love, and Mike is transformed back into his normal aged body – with no regrets.

This movie is a great conversation-starter for parents and kids. The messages are pro-life, pro-abstinence, and pro-marriage. I recommend this film for teens; and for pre-teens with parental guidance. It can also be used as part of an abstinence program in any youth program.

Presently playing on HBO.

How to build a raised garden bed

Yesterday I was so excited to pass by the baseball fields and see green grass. Today the snow is falling again! As much as we have enjoyed the snow this winter, we are all looking forward to getting out and playing some ball - and gardening. Those of you who have been following my blog for a while have already read about my raised garden beds that I built with my children last March. We were really pleased with the crops we produced. I have written up my step-by-step instructions on my Examiner column. This is a fun, easy, and inexpensive project that reaps great rewards. You can read my article here

A Touch of Heaven to Hold Onto

On Monday morning the three older children returned to school and I took my three-year-old ice skating at our favorite outdoor rink.

The outdoor rink at Port Jefferson Harbor Park is built next to an old boathouse, which was converted into a community center, a few hundred yards away from the actual harbor. I much prefer the outdoor rink to an indoor one, with its cold, stale air and lack of scenery. While we skate, we can take in the endless view, occasionally disrupted by the departure of the huge, white ferry, which we occasionally board to visit the cousins in Massachussetts.

Last week, during winter break, I had let the children all stay up every night until midnight watching the Olympics. My three-year-old attempted the figure skating moves on the living room rug, often blocking our view of the routines. She wants to be an ice dancer like one of her favorite literary characters, Angelina Ballerina.

She has been skating on the sandbox-turned-ice rink in our backyard on a regular basis, and when I can take them all to the rink she is able to skate independently. So we really enjoy our time together on the ice.

When we arrived, there was one couple with a girl her age; they soon tired of the effort and left. That left us two and an elderly gentleman, who quietly skated around and around the perimeter.

Although she knows she can do it, she always starts off by clinging to me. Then I hold her hands and skate backwards with her, until she decides to let go and skate towards me. Then she starts to mimic my moves. As the ice gets more and more scuffed-up, her confidence increases. During this session, probably the last of the year, she learned to skate backwards as well as in circles. I promised her a cup of hot cocoa if she would smile for a few pictures.

They let us stay on the ice longer, because there were no more customers for the next session. We just kept going and going until we were both utterly exhausted. We put a dollar in the beverage machine for a hot cocoa and another in the snack machine for a bag of Goldfish.

We brought all our stuff out onto a bench at the harbor’s edge and just sat there, sipping our hot cocoa and snacking on Goldfish, and watching the stillness and beauty of the cold, quiet water, glistening on this sunny, forty-degree day. It was truly a touch of heaven to hold onto.

Sirach
Chapter 18
1
The Eternal is the judge of all things without exception; the LORD alone is just.
2
Whom has he made equal to describing his works, and who can probe his mighty deeds?
3
Who can measure his majestic power, or exhaust the tale of his mercies?
4
One cannot lessen, nor increase, nor penetrate the wonders of the LORD.
5
When a man ends he is only beginning, and when he stops he is still bewildered.
6
What is man, of what worth is he? the good, the evil in him, what are these?
7
The sum of a man's days is great if it reaches a hundred years:
8
Like a drop of sea water, like a grain of sand, so are these few years among the days of eternity.
9
That is why the LORD is patient with men and showers upon them his mercy.
10
He sees and understands that their death is grievous, and so he forgives them all the more.
11
Man may be merciful to his fellow man, but the LORD'S mercy reaches all flesh,
12
Reproving, admonishing, teaching, as a shepherd guides his flock;
13
Merciful to those who accept his guidance, who are diligent in his precepts.

After Midnight

St Cecelia

The kids are convinced that they scheduled the Olympics to coincide with President’s Week winter break, or visa versa, to allow children everywhere to stay up late and watch the games. I have been allowing them to stay up until midnight so that we can enjoy the figure skating competitions together. Although the routines are taped, the television station chooses to torture us by stretching it out from 8:00 PM through midnight.

We are used to having the kids to bed between 8:00 and 9:00. They all go to bed at the same time, with the occasional exception of my eldest if she has a big school assignment to work on. Then my husband and I have the evening to ourselves.

I dislike it when he allows them to stay up for a ballgame, so I have to see his point of view when he complains about my letting them stay up this late for figure skating. He’ll go upstairs to watch High Stakes Poker, and occasionally come down to laugh when a skater falls.

Last night my son fell asleep in a chair around 11:55. I put our three-year-old to bed and flopped on top of my own. My two preteen girls somehow found their way to my bed and we wound up lying there, chatting and laughing, for another half hour.

We talked about school, and funny things that teachers and other kids said. We talked about their friends. We talked about Lent, and why we are supposed to give up meat and other things. And we talked about softball.

Over the weekend we were approached by our coaches with the option of splitting the girls onto separate teams. Last year they were in different age divisions but this year they are back in the same division and I had been looking forward to simplifying my schedule by having them on the same team.

However, it has recently become apparent that having to compete with an older sister is not necessarily good for the younger one’s self-esteem and development as a ball player. I had been wrestling all winter with how to deal with this. When I found out the coaches had come to this same conclusion on their own, I was very encouraged. My husband was in agreement and the girls suddenly became very excited about facing off against each other on the field.

I did this to myself, and some may think I’m insane; I also have to fit my son’s baseball games in there. But the truth is that I love being on the field everyday (even though I am allergic to pollen and rely on my Claritin or Zyrtec to survive), and love watching my kids do what they love to do best.

People are always telling me that they are sad to watch their children grow up. Maybe I don’t feel that way because I still have a little one at home. But God gave each child a purpose for being and a gift to be fulfilled. So when I see my children blossoming and coming into their own, it fills me with great joy.

Sirach has some wise words on disciplining children so that they may bring joy to the parents when they grow up…

Sirach
Chapter 30
1
He who loves his son chastises him often, that he may be his joy when he grows up.
2
He who disciplines his son will benefit from him, and boast of him among his intimates.
3
He who educates his son makes his enemy jealous, and shows his delight in him among his friends.
4
At the father's death, he will seem not dead, since he leaves after him one like himself,
5
Whom he looks upon through life with joy, and even in death, without regret:
6
The avenger he leaves against his foes, and the one to repay his friends with kindness.
7
He who spoils his son will have wounds to bandage, and will quake inwardly at every outcry.
8
A colt untamed turns out stubborn; a son left to himself grows up unruly.
9
Pamper your child and he will be a terror for you, indulge him and he will bring you grief.
10
Share not in his frivolity lest you share in his sorrow, when finally your teeth are clenched in remorse.
11
Give him not his own way in his youth, and close not your eyes to his follies.
12
Bend him to the yoke when he is young, thrash his sides while he is still small, Lest he become stubborn, disobey you, and leave you disconsolate.
13
Discipline your son, make heavy his yoke, lest his folly humiliate you.

Review of Sarah Palin’s “Going Rogue: An American Life”

As one would expect, Sarah Palin’s book “Going Rogue: An American Life” is political in nature – and yet, regardless of your politics, I think any woman with American Judeo-Christian morals would enjoy this book immensely, especially if she is a mom. Men will also enjoy her messages of ethics over politics; dealing with the political machine; and balancing family with work.

Sarah Palin wrote this book to clear the air on a number of issues. She writes about how the media turned around her actions and words to portray her badly; the GOP campaign advisors did nearly as much damage; and the people of Alaska and her own family wound up suffering as a result. This book clears her family name where it was smeared; outlines the non-basis of ethical charges leveled at her and her office; and explains why she felt it was in the public’s best interest for her to step down from her position as Governor of Alaska.

The book tells quite a great deal about Sarah Palin’s life and character. She is driven to serve the public. She is amazingly balanced. She is a mom first at heart and loves America.

Sarah’s description of her family life is awe-inspiring. As a mom who is busy with her own volunteer work as well as children in travel sports, reading about all she does makes me think, “If Sarah can do all this and also serve in public office, surely I can do this!” She has a great relationship with her husband; although his work keeps him away from home for weeks at a time, they are able to coordinate their complicated schedules so that the children are always taken care of. She is very involved with all aspects of her kids’ lives, acting as a high school girls’ basketball coach and traveling the wide reaches of Alaska to get her children to their various sporting events.

As a public servant, her ethics are unaffected by party affiliation. She personally keeps down her living and travel expenses that are paid by the public. She is not afraid to stand up to the establishment to get her job done properly. Her honesty in answering questions during the McCain campaign is what inspired the title of the book: her “handlers” were complaining that in going off-script she was “going rogue”.

Early in the book, Sarah bares to all her feelings as she discovered she was pregnant with her fifth child; then again, as she received the news that he would be born with Down syndrome. Not wanting the news to affect her job in any way, she kept the pregnancy quiet until her seventh month; she never got the chance to prepare her family properly for the special challenges they would face. Later in the book, she will talk about her “grizzly bear mama” feelings as her children, including the youngest and most innocent, are unfairly attacked by the media.

As a person, Sarah is very “real”. She does not care about high fashion; she hunts; she runs; she personally handles fish guts. Sarah pays due respect to mothers everywhere, whether they are full-time stay-at-home moms, working moms, work-at-home moms, or professional volunteer moms. Whatever your call in life, she believes you should listen to your conscience and follow it.

Some notes on where Sarah stands on some issues, which will affect how some read her book. Sarah was baptized Catholic but is a practicing Evangelical Christian. She is pro-life in all circumstances. She believes in contraception, which has put her at odds with some pro-life groups. She believes in free competition, small government, and stream-lined budgets. She admires the Republican Party of the Reagan years but does not align herself completely with either political party.

I have heard people say that they thought this book was “ghost-written”, but I could hear Sarah’s voice telling her story throughout. In the Acknowledgements section she thanks Lynn Vincent and a number of assistants for helping to get her words on paper. While she evidently did not personally write every word, it is apparent that the meanings of the words are hers and that she was involved in the book process from beginning to end.

Sarah loves Facebook, which puts information in the hands of the people. You can find her fan page here.

Follow her on Twitter here.

Find her website "Sarah Palin for America" here.

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