These Moments: Homecoming

Not quite playing along with Amanda this week. (By the way, both Amanda and Ginny have life's most extraordinary moments to share.)

I have several photos on my camera begging to be shared in this space right now, so we're going for the multiple moments of coming home and finding out what has been --err-- unwinding in one's absence.

I cried on the way to the airport. All those trips back and forth--the sendoff, the awesome  visit, the too-short Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, the sister trip, the Nicky trip, Spain, Brazil, Holland,--all of it played as a montage in my mind. And I was just so glad that this ticket home was a one-way ticket. At least for now.

Sometime in the middle of February or so, I sent Paddy a picture text when we were at Rita's Italian Ice. He'd been telling me about Rita's for years, having had the experience in distant towns. We have one locally now and I wanted to tell him how heartily I agreed with his assessment that it is awesome. The text made him sad. I was instantly sorry I had shared where we were and what we were doing without him. So, I promised we'd go the minute he came home. We went to Rita's directly from the airport.

Pick Up Happiness.

Pretty sure I just did.

At home, Patrick sized up the swift that has taken up nearly permanent residence on the kitchen table. He wanted a demo.

After Gracie got home, we settled into our customary knitting time. Patrick wandered in and didn't know quite what to do with himself. So he did what came naturally--the habit that has a long and storied history. He opened the yarn cabinet and took out a "ball." And he juggled it. With his feet. Declared it not round enough.

 {bonus: You can see the laundry that came home with him. We washed quickly because the whole house was overcome with the stink.}

Took out another.

No! I hastened to put an end to that. It's Malabrigo. you can't play with it.

He picked up another ball. Declared it the most superior for juggling purposes. He asked what kind it was.

Silk Merino.

You know, chimed in Nicholas helpfully, like Dan Marino.

Indeed. Just like that.

Grateful and then some.

Tuesdays are my gratitude days. Lately, I've tried to post my grateful list on Tuesdays, after posting a Daybook on Mondays. My life has spun in such a dizzy whirl since Friday that all I can muster this morning is, "um, what day is it?"

It's Tuesday, so I must be grateful.

Let me take you back, mostly without pictures because I've forgotten my camera pretty much all weekend. As my extended family sends me pictures, perhaps I'll add them here. In the meantime, my graduation pictures of my own son are  blurry beyond recognition. I've got a good one of my friend, Ruthie. She glows joy. But it would be sort of odd to put her up here and leave Michael out. Besides, she's on the trip of a lifetime in Europe right now, so I can't even ask if she'd like to be my token graduation picture, beautiful as that would be...

Friday, we celebrated Michael's graduation. Michael has six grandparents--Mike's mom and dad, my mom and stepfather, and my dad and stepmother. They were all there to watch him graduate. How amazing is that? I will admit to goosebumps when Pomp and Circumstance was played, but I didn't cry (everyone around me did). I attribute that to the fact that he really graduated in December and we've already processed it. At the end of graduation, I got a text. As much as I hate people who are tied to their phones, I had left several sick children at home and encouraged Mary Beth to text and let me know how things were. I plead guilty to texting with Michael during graduation, also. It kept things interesting while 1700 names were called. 

The text made me cry. It was Paddy.

Patrick is coming home. The Big Adventure has come to a close. And that long year is over. Really, I'm still processing. And I don't know how much I'll share here. He's healthy (except for a broken foot); he's whole; he's grown in so many ways. And in 4 hours and 13 minutes, he will be home. This was a burst of emotion for which I was not prepared on a weekend that I knew was going to be filled with emotion.

Michael talked to Paddy on our way from graduation to the party and so did I. Mike had insisted several weeks ago that we do the graduation party somehwere that wasn't home. This is definitely a departure from the  usual around here and I was a bit bothered by it, but when we hit upon the idea of having it at the local sushi restaurant, I knew we had a winner. Those good people were nearly excited about Michael's graduation as we were and they were genuinely honored to celebrate it with us. Lunch was awesome; the company wonderful and all was well.

Saturday afternoon, we celebrated my youngest nephew's first communion. It was the most beautiful First Communion I have ever been blessed to witness. Just perfect. After, we returned to my sister-in-law's house for a cookout. It's always a genuine party when the cousins are together. Mike and I scooted out early in order to go home, change clothes and drive across the river to Maryland to celebrate my oldest nephew's Bar Mitvah.

His was a huge party at Congressional Country Club. My sets of parents were there, and my aunts, and a couple hundred other people. My sister is, by far, the most amazing party planner in the world. Sh'ed been working on this one for eighteen months and every moment of that labor showed. She did a beautiful job and Mike and I really enjoyed a rare date night. We went home, slept fast, and then awoke to the regular Sunday activities, plus a seventieth birthday party for my mother.

I do wish I had pictures of that one. My sister's house looked so lovely. Huge and many bouquets of spring's finest flowers stood in the centers of poolside tables clothed in hot pink. Brunch was delicious; the cake--a lovely square confection of chocolate draped with white fondant and wrapped in a huge pink fondant bow--was too pretty to eat. But I hear it tasted as good as it looked. I consoled my wheat-free self with several cup of coffees with whipped cream floating on top, stirred with cinnamon sticks. The kids swam. Mike and I thoroughly enjoyed catching up with favorite friends who were neighbors when I was in high school. And, I dearly love my aunts, so it was nice to have a chance to talk away from the loud band of the previous night. Just before we left, my niece, who is graduating this spring, gifted Mary Beth with an entire high school career's worth of formal dresses--beautiful gowns that have just begun to dance. My mother was very happy and the weekend ended on a good note.

I spent yesterday cleaning--going to my sister's impeccably kept and beautifully decorated house does that to me;-). We thought Patrick would be home at the end of the week. I have this thing about children coming home to clean and orderly homes that look like they are ready for most important guests. i figured we'd take the week to get ready. Around dinnertime, though, he called and casually asked if I'd be available to meet him at the airport this morning. Would I?! I'll bring the gang with me. Pretty sure I'll remember the camera, too.

And then, the rest of the week will be devoted to settling everyone in for the summer. For the first time ever--ever--all nine of them are living at home for the foreseeable future. I think I just heard the upstairs bathroom groan. And I'm sure I heard the dining room table sigh a happy, happy sigh.

A place for everyone, and everyone in his place.

No better friend than a brother...

Gifts. We count them, one by one, the birds and the flowers and the sunsets. And they sing to us of the greatest of God, of His gracious blessing of abundant beauty. 

Even more precious are the days when we can stop and truly appreciate the gift of relationship. Nicholas was stoic, but sad, when Patrick left home last fall. Caught between being completely thrilled as any nine-year-old soccer player would be at the mere mention of the National Team and being acutely aware that his hero and buddy was  plucked from his daily life, he has struggled through the year. He is Patrick's biggest fan, but really, he just wants him to come home and play with him. In these last few weeks before the grand adventure comes to a close, Mike made a superhuman effort and got Nicky down to Florida to visit Patrick. So, this week, we count the gifts of brothers, together in the sunshine.

 ~a sporty red rental car to toodle around on the gulf coast~

~a hug (or two or three)~

~a chance to see where Patrick has been living and training, up close~

~up-close view of  Saturday morning training session~

~a tour of the dorms. What's this? Patrick's "count down to home" calendar. Since the date to come home keeps changing though, we suspect the calendar is more about the picture than the numbers.~

 
    ~A much-needed haircut. Nicky only lets Patrick cut his hair.. Haircuts have been few and far between this year.~ 
 

~a tour of the school~

~A romp in the Gulf of Mexico. Sort of funny to look at these pictures since neither of them are big fans of swimming in the sea.~

~Perfect Sunday seaside~

It has been said that the greatest gift you give your children is a sibling. 

All true.

Are you crazy-busy, busy-crazy?

Me too!

I paused (briefly) last week to talk with Lisa Hendey and Rebecca Teti  about how busy this time of year can be and how we can endeavor to make sure that all the special times are truly special. We also talked about some ways to pray together as a couple and how to pray with other women. You can hear us here.

And, I hit the crazy-busy thing again (big theme in my life this week?) at the Arlington Catholic Herald. You can read that column here. Please? And thank you:-)

{Miracle Moment: Nineteen Years Ago Today}

{this moment} - A Friday ritual.  Photo - no words - capturing a moment from the week.  A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember. If you're inspired to do the same, visit Soulemama to leave a link to your 'moment' in the comments for all to find and see.