I still remember it vividly. They seemed the perfect family: one girl, one boy, both darling. Mom and Dad were together at swim meets and ballgames. They lived in a lovely house. Their children went to great schools. And then, the day after the younger graduated high school, her mom up and left. Walked out. At least that’s the way it looked to those of us watching from a distance. Just like that: marriage over; family dissolved. Read the rest here, please?
I think it was about three weeks before Easter that he mentioned it again.
"You should come with me to Miami." I'm pretty sure I rolled my eyes. This crazy idea was a clear illustration of the disconnect. This man has no concept of what the three weeks before a major holiday hold for mothers. He doesn't understand that we were going to throw Bluebell Week in there a month early, that soccer season began the day we were to leave, that we were going to move most of the contents of two bedrooms right after Easter. He was suggesting that I just take a week off and leave everything. Go in an airplane. For four nights away from my toddler who still nursed herself to sleep.
But just as my eye rolling ceased I saw for a brief moment the look on his face.
I didn't say anything. Instead, I sulked and thought to myself that he was adding something pretty huge to an already crammed to-do list. I needed to finish spring cleaning before Easter. I needed to cook and bake and get ready to host his extended family for the holiday. And besides all that, who takes a vacation at the beginning of Holy Week? The whole idea grated on my liturgical sensibility.
The next day, I dashed off a whiny email about my predicament to a very dear friend--the kind of friend who would read my ungrateful rant and say not a word until much later, when I'd come to my senses. And even then, she would not remind, she would just smile broadly at my note telling her how wonderful this whole idea was. My initial complaint was blown away with a puff of loving grace.
Shortly after my haughty email, I called my father. Would he, could he, could they, please watch six of my children for four nights so I could go to Miami? Of course they could, came the ready reply. And then he handed the phone to my stepmother. She listened to my litany of ifs, ands and buts. And she wholeheartedly encouraged me to go. She was happy to have them, happy to give us this chance to get away.
The three big boys would remain at home so that they could go to school and to work. I drew up a long list of chores that required manual labor so that they wouldn't kill each other would have a positive outlet for all that energy.
I knew that Mike would be at work all day while I was there. So, I set some intense writing goals. I prepared three embroidery projects. I downloaded two new books to my Kindle. And then, after a conversation about something entirely different with my friend Becca, on a complete and total whim, I ordered this book. I described it a little to you last week. Here's what I said:
I spent Holy Week reading Consoling the Heart of Jesus. There are a small handful of books in my life where I remember exactly where and when I read them because those times and places are turning points. This book is one of those. It is easily at the top of that list. This incredibly readable volume makes some of the most beautiful truths and devotions of the Catholic faith understandable (at last) and accessible (even to busy mothers of large families). Fr. Gaitley brings together fine threads of several spiritual traditions and weaves them into a beautiful and exceedingly useful tapestry of a do-it-yourself retreat. It is Ignatian spirituality made accessible. It is the Little Way of St. Therese for all of us. It is consecration to Mary and devotion to Divine Mercy explained in plain language and made clear to little souls. Mostly, it is a rich volume of Merciful Words that brings Merciful Love to its readers. You don't have to have a weekend to make the retreat. You can just read a little each day until you are finished. If it's your heart's desire to get to know and understand Jesus better, tell Him. He'll help you find the time. I heartily recommend that you hurry and get yourself a copy of this book--what a beautiful way to spend the Easter sason.
I started reading on the plane. By the time we landed, I knew that this Holy Week was set apart for me by God Himself, in His infinite mercy. This time would be a time of retreat. I would fill my days with God and spend my evenings with my husband. No interruptions. No distractions. Just the three of us.
I kept to my general prayer program.
I started my days there at the gym. The hotel bike is considerably newer than my 13-year-old one. The voices from divineoffice.org joining me in prayer were familiar, even far from home. Mike and I had leisurely breakfasts at an Argentinian market. We walked hand-in-hand back to the hotel and he went off to work in his office right next door. I returned to the room and to my retreat. At ten o'clock, I went back out for another walk, soaking up the gorgeous sunshine and drinking deep of the lovely town that is Coral Gables. I stopped at a sushi restaurant and ordered a salad to go to bring back to my room. Back to my retreat. When I got there, the bed had been made, the room straightened and it all smelled like a tropical breeze. It's amazing how clearly one can think in the absence of clutter and a to-do list.
At three o'clock, I walked again. One day, I looked see where the closest church was. I walked three miles to The Church of the Little Flower. I wish I had pictures for you. There's a tour here; you can even see the street I walked. It's actually only two miles, but I got lost on the way there. Then I walked back to the hotel, stopping at a cafe for iced tea to bring back to the room. I sat in the courtyard and read some more. After a day or so of filling this way--of relishing much needed silence--words came back. I found myself drawn to keyboard, fingers flying and thoughts tumbling from my hands. The time I spent at my computer wan't much at all, but it was rich.
The embroidery went untouched. I didn't have my camera, so the very few pictures I have were taken with Mike's cell phone from our table outside at dinner one evening on South Beach. But the images in my head? All art created by Him.
Mike and I enjoyed wonderful evenings. We had all the time in the world to finish conversations, to think deep thoughts together. His workday was pretty intense and he was not on vacation at all, but he was so genuinely happy to have me there. We ate great food and we took in the sights and sounds of the unique culture that is south Florida. I saw through his eyes and my own the places and people he spends so much time with. It was all good.
I returned to my home and my children early Holy Thursday afternoon, in plenty of time to make a seder dinner and go to Mass together. Mike did not join us until Easter Sunday.
Despite all my reluctances, I know I spent those days right in the middle of God's will. I am so grateful that my husband saw much better than I did how much I needed to get away. I'm grateful to my father and stepmother for sacrificing their own quiet and rest for my rowdy, energetic crew. And I'm grateful to a merciful Jesus for the gift of graces he showered on me.
I am so glad I said Yes!
Joining the ladies at Suscipio this week for Moments of Grace.
Your children will see that– in spite of imperfections in their parents– joyful obedience to God is still the standard. That obedience is all the more fruitful when difficult temperaments and real life challenges are involved. Your children will learn that you can’t change someone else. But you can love them.
I'm sharing an old post at Suscipio this morning, the notes from long ago conversations with wise women. Thoughts on love and marriage. Please join me there?
Way back when I started blogging, I was very shy about writing about marriage. It's a tricky topic and, though I venture there a wee bit more these days, I'm still hesitant. But I got bold one day way back when. I think I was bothered by somehting I read. (Isn't anger a great motivator to write? On second thought, don't answer that.) I wrote about how openness to life made us better--better spouses, better friends, better Christians. That piece has been republished today at Suscipio. Won't you join me there?
Thank you for all your kind words and your prayers yesterday. The secret was a huge success! I had envisioned slipping in and standing next to him as we watched the show, but I knew there could be production glitches that would call the whole thing off. Last week, I enlisted the help of our dear family friend, Frankie, who works in Mike's office. I shared the idea and asked him if he thought it too crazy. He was enthused and thought it might work, given a tidy production day. We both acknowledged that sometimes first days aren't all that tidy. The plan was to check in with Frankie around 2:00. If all was good, I'd hit the road. It's a bit more than an hour into the city from our house.
At 11:46, my phone rang. It was Mike. I knew that they were shooting at noon. My stomach dropped and my heart leapt. I was sure something was terribly wrong. Why in the world would he call so close to "action" time? Because that's the time we exchanged our vows. He just wanted to say, "I still do."
We chatted for just a few minutes and I hung up very pleased that I was still keeping the secret.
At 2:00, I checked in with Frankie and he said there were some glitches but to come on. Patrick and I drove into the city and Paddy dropped me off at Mike's office at 3:30. Frankie met me in the lobby and helped me clear security. He explained that the glitch was pretty big and he was going to sit me in Mike's office until it was a good time to tell him I was there. I was a little bummed that I wouldn't see him, but really glad I'd enlisted Frankie's help. The last thing I wanted was to be in the way and I knew Frankie would keep me from doing that.
I sat at Mike's desk and doodled little notes and pictures on a notepad. I'm sure he'll smile when he goes to jot things today. I left yesterday's blog post up on his computer. And then, I started to get a little concerned. It was 10 minutes to air and I couldn't figure out how to work the TV on his office wall. How ironic would it be if I came all this way and missed the show? I texted home. My teenagers always help me with TV issues. No luck. So I stuck my head out the door and 'fessed up to all those TV guys that I couldn't even turn it on. After getting all tuned in, I settled in to watch the show. In his office. By myself.
But it was fine. I was pleasantly surprised by how much I liked the show (I'd had my doubts). Frankie checked in a couple times to tell me that the glitch was unglitching, but that Mike was crucial to making sure it all went well. At the end of the show, a huge cheer went up in the ESPN wing of the ABC building. And I think I heard an audbile collective sigh of relief. It was way fun to be there for that.
After the show was over, Frankie insisted Mike come upstairs to his office. I'm pretty sure Mike was annoyed with Frankie;-). He opened the office door, saw me sitting there, and literally did a double take. A smile slowly spread all over his face and he said, "You're here. Wow. You're here." I explained the rest of the plan, shared that we had reservations at 7 and that he had plenty of time to do all the things he had to do. If we needed to go a little later, we could do that, too. Then I curled up in the corner with my Kindle and let him do his thing.
When he was satisfied that all was well with his corner of the television world., we walked to this restaurant, a block or so from the White House. On the way, Mike said he really couldn't believe I'd done this whole thing, that I'd appeared on this day. I was quiet and he went on to elaborate. You have fear of cities (um, yeah, that whole agorophobia thing). Today was the first day of full ballet and soccer driving--everybody has something. HOW did you manage that? (With fine-tuned precision and a lot of help). You were afraid that because the 10th anniversary of 9/11 was a Sunday, the new attack would come on the next day. (You knew that? I never said that! How did you know that? But, yeah, that was the big obstacle. And then I remembered that you flew the first day planes went up ten years ago and you have said ever since then that the terrorists win if we let them make our plans for us. So I did this for you. Because you're brave. I am not.)
Fear is a thief. I've allowed it to rob me far too many times.
After dinner, we walked in front of the White House and across Lafayette Square. I noted that there is an American Craft exhibit at the Renwick Gallery and promised myself to come back soon. Mike and I chatted about art, craft, and creativity. I'm grateful for a life that allows us both to do things we genuinely love to do. We went back to the studio and turned off all the lights. We gathered up the leftovers of the Georgetown Cupcakes emblazoned with the new show's logo and took them back to our kids.
A perfect ending to a very sweet day.
I'm Elizabeth. I'm a happy wife and the mother of nine children. I grab grace with both hands and write to encourage myself and others to seize and nurture the joy of every day. I blog here with my daughter, Mary Beth, a wholehearted young lady on the brink of adulthood.
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