The Magic Hairbrush and Other Tales

Once upon a time a fair young maiden received a package in the mail. It had lots of special stamps on it and it came all the way across the water from merry old England. The fair maiden was so excited as she unwrapped that packaging.

Nestled inside was a hairbrush. Beautifully made of wood, this hairbrush had her name painted on it in pink.

Karoline

Karoline looked upon the brush with wonder. And not a little trepidation. This young maiden distrusted hairbrushes mightily. In her vast experience, they hurt. Those fair, fine curls tangled upon each other when she slept and created such a muddled mess that hairbrushes were feared more than dragons in the maiden's household.

But look at this hairbrush! It came all the way from England! And upon it is inscribed:

BY APPOINTMENT TO HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN

Oh my! Be still small heart! And she shouts, "Katie, the Queen of England sent me a magic hairbrush!"

We brushed. It was, indeed, a quite remarkable hairbrush. And it did make the dreaded chore  more pleasant. But soon it was resolved that perhaps taking a few inches off the long and lovely mane of hair would help keep it from tangling so.

And we did.

Very carefully, following all the Curly Girl rules.

We trimmed.

It looked lovely really.

The fair maiden was quite pleased.

The wee littlest maiden thought that she, too, would like a wee haircut. Her Mama put her in the chair and made scissors sounds close to her ear. But nary a snip fell.

No, the Mama was not yet ready to part with the baby wisps.

She thought ahead to the enchanted tea party planned. She wanted a picture of this littlest dear with that littlest dear, two darling heads with hair that looked like the gnomes were making mischief in there while they slept. No, the haircut should wait. "After the tea party,"  she told the curly maiden, "we'll give the Wee One a proper trim."

Alas, the young maiden with golden curls fell ill on the day of the enchanted tea party. There was much weeping. And there were no photos.

There was no haircut.

Three days later, the fair maiden was overcome with horror at the sight of Wee One's tangles. Her Mama was wrapping packages nearby. Fair child quietly came up behind her and took the shiny scissors from the table.

"Shhh, " she said to Wee One, "Be very quiet. I will give you curly hair."

The Wee One very much wanted curly hair.

Fair Maiden then cut off every single tangle. And every bit of bang. And then she swept all those golden wisps into the trash.

The Mama gasped.

And laughed.

And cried.

And then she dearly wished that the hairbrush from merry England were indeed, magic.

If only.

Small Steps Together: Simplicity



I've noticed a trend lately, as I sit in waiting rooms of various medical offices with various children. There is a quest out there for simplicity. According to magazine covers, we want simple meals and simply cleaned homes. We want no stress and plenty of simple fun. And the rallying cry for simplicity reaches a fever pitch as the school year begins. I've stopped questing after simple.

My life is not simple. And I am not simple. My life is complex. I am responsible for the care and nurturing of 10 other people. They live under my roof. I feed them and clothe them and counsel them and pray for them. I educate them (well, one of them — my husband — I don't educate, but I do explore new ideas with him). When they are sick, I nurse them back to health. Ten people. There is no way that can be simple. People are complex. All the people here are individuals. They all have individual needs and individual wants and individual personalities.

turtle beneath the ice

Running a household of this size is not simple — it's complex. I can try to make it simple. I can try to pin down that elusive system that forces everything to march in a perfectly orderly manner so that it all looks as sleek and uncluttered as an Amish kitchen, but sooner than later I will be frustrated to learn yet again that there is no simple system that will work here. Even if each component is simple, the big picture is a complex tapestry. Life happens. In a family this size, life happens constantly and it's never simple.

Sometimes, particularly when I'm tired, I wish it were simple. But then, I usually quickly recognize that I'm wishing away the very life for which I prayed. I begged God for the fascinating, complex man who is my husband. I begged God for every single one of these children. I begged God for the means to buy them the clothes that necessitate nearly perpetual sorting, washing, folding and putting away.

I begged God for the good job my husband holds, which provides ample food that requires extensive planning, shopping, cooking and serving (and also means an erratic work schedule and frequent travel). I begged God for this house, for the things in it, which He has so graciously provided and which I must clean and maintain. And I heard God when He begged me to educate my children at home — each one according to his individual needs and abilities. None of it is simple. Not a single bit of it.

 

This is my mission field, my apostolate. I am reminded of the woman who struggles to raise three small children while being a missionary in a Third World country. The life seems simple enough. The house is humble; the furnishings are sparse; the meals are plain. But I am assured it's actually quite complicated. Washing clothes requires transportation and time and the cooperation of nature. Health care can be sporadic and inadequate. Personal safety is not guaranteed.

My mission is in suburban USA. My challenges, like the challenges of the foreign missionary, are often the challenges of the culture in which I find myself. But our missions are the same: to make believers of all nations, to bring the Word of God to the culture. My mission begins at home, on a cul-de-sac in Virginia, where the days are very full indeed. In a world that is increasingly complex. There is no doubt I am called to do it.

The only simple part is how I do it. I am called to do it diligently. I am called to do it wholeheartedly. I am called to devote my entire life to working hard for the glory of God in this complex household. I am called to do it — no matter how intricate and complicated "it" is — with love. Mothers love with all their hearts, minds and souls. It's a pure love that God wants us to give to our families. Many, many times, this love looks like plain old hard work, work that requires heroic discipline and almost incessant busyness. Work that is softened by grace falling like rain, rain that sounds like music. It's not a simple tune. It's a symphony conducted by the Lord Himself. And in every family the song is different, each according to the score written by the Creator.

Mother Teresa lived a life of seeming simplicity. But was it really simple? She founded an order, traveled the globe, feed millions, saved lives, dined with heads of state, worked for the kingdom of God. This was a rich and complex woman. This was a deeply spiritual woman. And, I think, what made it all seem like a simple life was her agenda. At the root of it all, all she wanted was to love. She wrote:

There is always the danger that we may just do the work for the sake of the work. This is where the respect and the love and the devotion come in — that we do it to God, to Christ, and that's why we try to do it as beautifully as possible.

We mothers are like that. We work. We work hard. And often, our work schedules are very complicated. But we can have the peace of simplicity that emanated from the tiny nun if we work those schedules the way she did: with love, and respect and devotion. With the simple purpose of creating something beautiful for God.

And now I'm off, to spend the day in an increasingly familiar circuit of orthopedist and physical therapist, grocery store and post office. I'll come home to cooking and cleaning and laundry and maybe a little bit of writing. I sat last night and mapped it all out — I had to in order to be sure that I did the work that is mine for the day. It all looks a bit messy on my handwritten list. It looks absolutely nothing like I thought it would at week's beginning.

And I know the list does not include all the things that I will do which will make me "Mama" to small people. Those go without saying. They are my very being. They are the simple part of me. And all the rest, all the chores, all the scheduling, those I plan as best I can. Now I give it all to Him — the simple part and the overwhelming part. I tell Him I will do the very best I can and I trust Him to show me what's important, to make His will clear and to conduct the rich and joyful symphony that is my not-so-simple life.

{reposted from the archives of the Arlington Catholic Herald}

Did you take small steps towards simplicity this week? How has Small Steps blessed, challenged you, encouraged you on your journey? Would you share your thoughts with us, let us find you and walk with you? I'd be so grateful and so honored to have you as a companion.

Daybook just before February

Outside My Window

There is a blanket of snow everywhere. A quick check of the weather tells me that there may be more snow in the immediate future followed by lots of cold rain midweek. Not much good to say about cold rain...

I am Listening to

quiet

I am Wearing

Yoga pants and a sweathsirt. I slept in these. I do plan to dress for the day.

I am so Grateful for

~a safe trip home for Mike (only three hours) on a snowy night when many people spent up to ten hours in their cars. 

~a safe flight out early the next morning so that my sweet Mary Beth could surprise Patrick with a real life visit--meet his friends, see his school, take him some Valentine dots in person. My husband is a travel genius and we are blessed by his expertise.

~a warm gym on a bitter Saturday morning.

~making a quick exit from said gym before my two-year-old threw up. Getting outside was a huge blessing. to a lot of people, no doubt.

~a trip for Mary Beth and Mike to see Patrick in Florida

~black tea with mint and coconut milk

~long talks with Linda about all things theological

~Mary Chris' knitting lesson when every other plan for fun last week failed

~Katie's enthusiastic love of all things yarn

~a hot pink lighted Kindle case

~hours in bed on Sunday recovering and reading

~snow

~a new deacon at the mission

~bedtime talks with Mike

~a good night's sleep

~cashmere socks

~hair bows

~newly organized school baskets

~the Charlotte Mason organizer

~Latin DVDs

~a solid school plan for the term

~a good dentist (if I can just drum up the courage to call her)

Mary Beth in the airport on the way home (note the sunburn--sign of fun in the sun)

I'm Pondering

“If a sudden jar can cause me to speak an impatient, unloving word, then I know nothing of Calvary love.
For a cup brimful of sweet water cannot spill even one drop of bitter water, however suddenly jolted.”
~ Amy Carmichael H/T Ann Voskamp 

I am Reading

One Thousand Gifts on Kindle

Catholic Controversies: Understanding Church Events and Teaching in History. I'm reading this one with Christian. He's a huge fan of National Geographic and the History Channel, but is driven crazy by occasional anti-Catholic. This book is very helpful in sorting fact from fiction. Edited by Stephen Gabriel, different topics are written by different authors, all experts in their fields who share their knowledge in this one comprehensive volume. All of the authors are well-respected writers, editors, historians, scientists, or theologians and they bring their strengths to the project, making it an exceptionally credible resource. The resulting collection is both impressive and exceedingly useful. Complex and commonly misunderstood doctrines and historical events of the Catholic Church including evolution, Galileo, the Crusades, the Inquisition, the Reformation, the role of women, natural law,  and contraception are addressed in solid, readable essays. I think this go-to guide is going to be ready at my fingertips as one teenager after another asks tough questions in this household over the next couple of decades.

I am Thinking

about how grateful I am for the sacrament of marriage. There's a lot of grace there.

I am Creating

endless knitting projects. In my head. Because really, I'm no at all sure I can sit still long enough to bring any of them to fruition.

 

Patrick's dorm

On my iPod

same old, same old. But I did install the Divine Office Mac app on my computer. Bliss. Really, it's amazing. I love it. It's clean and beautiful and I love that it's its own button on my toolbar and not dependent on browser. Love.

St. Stephen's, where Paddy goes to school

Towards a Real Education

We cleaned out all the individual school baskets and got all caught up on CM Organizer. Ordered a few new things for children who have whipped through previously planned curriculum. Nicky and Katie have blasted through math this year. Kindle has been such a blessing to Mary Beth, who is still struggling with an eye injury from last spring. We're getting there, though. making steady progress.

Karoline loves the geography studies especially and she's becoming our resident map expert. She was teaching Sarah all the countries in South America last night. Too cute for words. "This is Bolivia, but you can call it Olivia if you want betuz that's what I called it when I was little and I didn't know better." Like last week?

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

Time to get back to the "put the computer away" rhythm. I've gotten sucked in to having it open all day and then I get sidetracked. I wish there were an iPod app for the CM Organizer. Then, I wouldn't need to be online with my laptop. It's too tedious to just acces the Organizer online for iPod--it's just not configured for that small screen. Perhaps a little self discipline is in order, yes? Anyway, I need to finish up here this morning and close all window but the Organizer. And focus.

We're having a Kind Conversation about

gosh, I don't know. I haven't been there in several days. Must check in today. 

dorm room

To Live the Liturgy

 Candlemas is this week.

Today's the Feast of St. John Bosco.

I am Hoping and Praying

for Elizabeth deHority. She is constantly on my heart and in my prayers. She needs you now. Please, please pray with me.

Around the House

It appears that I'm going to have to do a clothing switch in the middle of winter. Sarah has suddenly decided to grow. She had been wearing last winter's clothing (the 6-12  months size), but all of a sudden, she needs something bigger. Down to the storage room today, to unearth the clothing Karoline wore the winter she was two. I think those might be too big. And then, I'll be stuck because a quick look around Target the other day let me know that bathing suits are already ready and available for purchase. Ironic, since I was there to look for snow pants.

headquarters of US Soccer Men's U17 National Team, where team meetings happen

From the Kitchen

I'm inspired by Andrea's post. I tend to make dietary changes for me, but hesitate to make them for all of us. At least, I haven't really put my foot down in the kitchen in a long, long time. I remember when Paddy had surgery on his hand on his second birthday and we stopped at Dunkin Donuts on the way home. He didn't even know what a donut was. My current two-year-old would happily live on chocolate chips, unless of course, M & Ms were available. We've loosened my formerly militant dietary rules way too much. It's time to clean up around here.

One of My Favorite Things

Snow days. I'm learning to embrace cold rain days this winter. Not so much.

Sarah Annie this week

She's sporting a new haircut. More on that later.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

Need to schedule a visit to the dentist.

Lots of basketball

Senior night for Christian. How is that possible? I always cry at Senior Nights...This one will be particularly tough. I wish so much for this child and life knocks him around more than a little.

Stephen's birthday

Candlemas

Tomorrow begins our Small Steps Together study of Simplicity.

Picture thoughts:

 

after the match on Saturday

Paddy and Mary Beth after his match on Saturday

 
These pictures are from Mike's and Mary Beth's recent trip to visit Patrick at the U17 US Soccer Men's National Team Residency program in Bradenton Florida. They were taken on Mike's Blackberry.    

{this moment}

{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.

Candlelight at the End of the Day

As light fades and blinds are drawn, as books are read and prayers are said, the home cries out for candlelight. Those moments when we are reading bedtime stories and saying bedtime prayers and tucking children in tight might seem like the perfect time to light a candle and rest in the soft glow. But not in my house.

I have fallen asleep myself while putting little ones to sleep far too many times to risk leaving a candle burning when I am in any bed at the end of the day.

Still, I like the idea of ending the day the way we began it: in the soft light of a candle. Bathtime is a big deal in my house. It's another one of those things, like dinner time, that I always assumed other families did, but I was surprised to find it sort of exceptional. Nearly every night, the routine includes a bath for little ones--often bubbles, bath toys, a good scrubbing, hair washing, and time to play and pour. I'm in there the whole time; it's definite focused attention. And we light a candle as the routine begins.

The candle quiets things a bit and it slows the pace a the end of the day. I put the candle on the bathroom counter; the happy coincidence of this placement is that the counter stays clean. It just seems odd to me to bother to light a pretty candle in the middle of a counter littered with toothpaste tubes, lipgloss, and contact lens solution. For now, Trish is still supplying our soap and our candles, so our candle scent matches our soap scent. I love those scents so much and I am sure that one day when I am a very old lady, if I am fortunate enough to smell Trish's St. Anne or St. Therese scent, it will bring back the happiest memories of freshly bathed babies, nursing to sleep.

After the bath, little girls are bundled up into a towel, patted dry and gently laid on a warm towel on the bathroom rug for a good rubbing. Ever since Christian was a little boy in desperate need of quiet evening rituals, we have given our children evening massages. We rub them with lavender oil or Burt's Bees lotion or Burt's Bees oil and we sing a song we made up all those many years ago

i rub, rub, rub you

'cause i love, love, love you

yes i do

oh, i do,

i really do!

Silly, goofy, and not at all polished, it works for us. And if we even think about skipping it, Sarah reminds us, "Need my rub, rub." She sings along. I am all too aware that our days of bubbles and rubbing are nearly at end, as most of my children have graduated to utilitarian showers all by themselves. But this ritual is so well loved, so very much a part of the rhythm of our days, I like the chances of candles, lavender oil,  and the "rub-rub song" surviving into the next generation.