{this moment} - A Friday ritual. A single 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.
The most interesting thing has happened over the course of the last few weeks. Some events in my very real, up-close life have conspired to completely reverse my opinions on social networking. (You can stop laughing, Dallas.) Maybe someday, I'll tell the story on these pages. For now, though, I'm uniquely grateful for the blessings born here on this blog and in the community of blogging women. I'm seeing the genuine joy a blog can be for the first time in a long time.
This morning, my dear friend Ann gave voice to a balm for the painful wounds of saddened friendships. It was a privilege and a joy to hear her dear voice across the miles as she uttered these sweet words:
"I promise I will never speak an unkind word to or about you. I will never be jealous of you. I will never compete with you. I will never abandon or betray you. I will love you. I will pray for you. I will do all I can to help you go far and wide in the Kingdom.
I will accept you as you are, always. I will be loyal to you. Before our loving God of grace, you have my words and my heart in friendship for this life and forever with Him.”
A gift. An amazing gift of true charity. Do listen to her whole message. This afternoon, I was privileged to join a another dear friend across the miles. There is no wound so painful, no hurt so raw as a mother's heart just after she sends her firstborn to college. I know. Three years ago, I was there. And on the way home, I pulled over and called Dallas. (How funny, all these things keep ending up in Dallas. Huh. I'll have to think on that one day.) Anyway, I called Dallas. And the voice on the end of the phone told me to go buy a tablecloth. I can't remember why. But I remember the tablecloth. More than that, I remember the gift of love that was her voice. She was a woman "met" in the blogosphere, reaching across the miles with genuine charity. Today, I talked with Lisa Hendey just moments after she watched her elder son take flight, bound for Harvard, three thousand miles from home. Sweet Rachel Balducci joined us--nothing like a southern accent and a warm shoulder to ease the pain and share the burden. Looking back, I still can't believe we put these moments on record and shared them. But I think they'll bless you. I know that conversation genuinely blessed me. Please listen. And offer a prayer for Lisa. Because it really does hurt in a way that only God can heal.
Gracie is an early bird, often ready for the day to begin an hour or more before the other girls awaken. Nicholas is often up, too, but he wants his quiet and his sports headlines and he isn't a very good early morning companion. Just so happens that Gracie doesn't really need to talk to anyone in the morning; she's happiest with a bottle of glue, some markers and popsicle sticks. Crazy, ridiculous happy.
So, this summer, I called to mind my own happy mornings at a preschool in Charlottesville, where we'd take a few moments the night before to prepare a table for arriving children the following morning. Usually, we'd leave out the makings of a very simple craft or drawing activity. The assumption is that teachers might be busy greeting children or talking with parents, so these should be activities that required little or no instruction or supervision. Honestly, though, I loved it when I could pull up an undersized chair and work right alongside them.
This summer, the "school" table in the sunroom has been a perpetual craft table. I tidy it at night and try to leave something inspiring there for Gracie and whoever shakes off sleep and joins her there.
My very favorite activity at that long-ago preschool was making "stained glass pictures." (I've even shared it with you previously.) We'd cut tissue paper into squares and leave them in a basket for the children. Then, we'd water down some liquid starch and provide soft paintbrushes and plain white copy paper (this doesn't work as well with construction paper). The children would place the dry squares on the white paper and then paint over them with starch, overlapping at will. Can't quite capture it, but there's something infinitely relaxing and rewarding about this process. Really, you must try it.
This summer, we took the basic idea and tried it with glass jars, after I saw something similar on a blog I've now forgotten. [Please email me if this was you--I'm happy to link:-)]
Instead of starch, I used diluted white glue. I gathered jars of all sorts. My favorite shape is a Dijon mustard jar.
The children "painted" on the squares, being careful not to leave any edges dry.
It was a rewarding process and they were surprised to see how different each person's jar was, though they'd all begun with the same materials.
The finished product is both beautiful and useful.
While they make lovely flower vases, do be careful. They don't take kindly to water drips and filling and emptying is most definitely a mom job.
They make lovely votive candle holders, though.
And my absolute favorite pencil holder ever.
Beautiful, useful crafts that even the littlest hands can successfully complete.
Happy summer morning!
I heard this song for the first time on our drive back from the beach. I caught Mary Beth's eye in the rearview mirror and we mutually understood a slideshow was on the way. Bailey and Mary Beth were up way too late last night, editing. You've got our prayers, buddy. Here's our wish.
St. Monica is commemorated on August 27. A holy woman who spent a great deal of her life on her knees in tears, she was the wife of a cruel, pagan husband and a wayward son. She prayed unceasingly for them. At the end of his life, her husband did convert to Christianity. Her son, after gallivanting about and leading a life of sin, was baptized in Christ and became the great St. Augustine.
In the past few days, I have heard from so many tearful mothers. They are sending sons and daughters out into the world. Some of them are letting go just a little bit--a bus ride to kindergarten, a bike ride alone, a week away at grandparents. Others are sending their children hundreds or thousands of miles away to live apart from them. These kids aren't, for the most part, wayward young Augustines. Yet, mothers everywhere understand the tearful imploring of St. Monica for God's protection and provision for her child. I've promised the mothers who have written that I will pray for them and for their children and I've asked them to pray for me and mine.
Isn't it a beautiful thing that the Church draws our attention to St. Monica at this time of year? Just as I can pray for you and you can pray for me, St. Monica, eternal soul in heaven with the Father, can pray for us both.
Exemplary Mother of the Great Augustine,
You perseveringly pursued your wayward son Not with wild threats But with prayerful cries to heaven.
Intercede for all mothers in our day
So that they may learn To draw their children to God.
Teach them how to remain
Close to their children, Even the prodigal sons and daughters Who have sadly gone astray.
Dear St Monica, troubled wife and mother,
Many sorrows pierced your heart During your lifetime. Yet you never despaired or lost faith. With confidence, persistence and profound faith, You prayed daily for the conversion Of your beloved husband, Patricius And your beloved son, Augustine.
Grant me that same fortitude,
Patience and trust in the Lord. Intercede for me, dear St. Monica, That God may favorably hear my plea For
(mention your petition here)
And grant me the grace
To accept his will in all things, Through Jesus Christ, our Lord, In the unity of the Holy Spirit, One God forever and ever. Amen.
Right now, I have no grand plans for this Feast. We'll pray the novena, light a candle. celebrate Mass, and have a nice tea time. St. Monica, pray for us!
This icon is by the hand of Nicholas Papas.
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.
Like what you see here? Support this space by treating yourself to some of these good things.
Powered by Squarespace.
