needle & thREAD

Not much more to report here. Above, you can see the sum total of all the progress I've made on those flannel nightgowns. This Butterick pattern is marked "very easy." I cannot understand the directions. Cari came to my rescue and stepped me through the first few steps. Even she said those directions were hard to understand. I so, so wish that Oliver + S had a nightgown pattern. I'm seriously considering making these pjs for the other two girls. But I love granny gowns...

A few weeks ago, two different people from two completely different circles of my life suggested I read Brene Brown. I checked out her blog and read reviews on Amazon and then I downloaded the audio versions of the Gifts of Imperfection and Daring Greatly to my iPhone. I started with Gifts of Imperfection. I only listen when I'm at the gym. It's like a mini-retreat several times a week.

I really, really like Gifts of Imperfection. The slim volume is full of insight for people pursuing a "wholehearted" (the author's word) life. Some of her anecdotes were so spot-on it was eerie. And the Audible version is very well read. The problem with listening while working out is that I do get distracted. I start paying attention to heartrates and exertion levels and the lady two rows in front and three columns over who is running about 10 times harder and faster than I am. I'm definitely going to listen to it again. But... like so many books on Audible, I got the print version, too. I know that I want to highlight quotes and copy some of them into my journal. I just can't do that with the auditory version, especially while exercising. I really like auditory books; but I like to read them, too. Bad, I know.

What are you sewing and reading this week? I really do want to hear all about it!

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The Best Wine

As I was going into Mass Sunday morning, I saw a young mom struggling with a preschooler, a toddler, and a bulky, heavy infant seat. I helped her with the door and pushed away a now familiar pang. I know it is a struggle; that stage of parenting is super hard. But I liked it. No, I really, really loved it. Revelled in it. I miss it.

Last September, Mike and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with a trip to northern California. It was Mike's idea--completely, totally, and 100% Mike's idea. He's been many times for business and he was certain I'd love it there. I was certain that I have a fear of airplanes and earthquakes and being very far from my children. I was certain that Sarah Annie was not going to be thrilled about weaning (despite the fact that she was absolutely old enough).  I was certain it was imprudent to plan any sort of trip out of town during the first week of the school year. He was gently insistent.

I was nervous, too. We'd never been away from our children for a whole week. Come to think of it, we'd never really spent a week together without him working since 1996. And that was the one vacation we'd taken in all our married life.  What if we got bored with each other? I knew that this season--the one begun when Michael's engagement coincided with the obvious fact that our baby days are over--was not the season I'd always lived in my dreams. That was the season just ending. What if I hated this season?

He wanted to start in Napa, in wine country. I didn't drink wine. What in the world was he thinking? I am the child who saw alcoholism up close and personal. Wine sets off buzzers and beepers and PTSD. Wine? Seriously?  He was thinking that I love agriculture, that I throw myself headlong into the land and I want to see it and smell it and touch it and taste it and... well, frankly winemaking is the total package. I was dubious.

But I said yes. One morning, under a deadline, I emailed him this column to proofread. And at the very end, I wrote "Let's go to San Francisco. I trust you."

So we did.

I know he worried as we drove away from the San Francisco airport. I tried to look cheerful, but my heart sunk. It was pretty ugly. But then, as we drew near to Sausalito,the cloud lifted and my soul soared. From that moment on, the trip was absolutely everything he'd hoped and so much more than I imagined. 

First, the whole wine thing was a huge success. I loved Napa valley. Just absolutely loved it. And, now, I kind of like wine, too. It's a hobby we share. From there, the trip just kept surprising me with joy. 

One night, in Monterey, after I'd skipped down Cannery Row (yes, really, skipped), and flitted through a Ghirardelli shop, and inhaled the beach at sunset (the first time I'd ever seen the sun set over the water), we had dinner outdoors. Actually, we ate outdoors almost every night, but on this night, I remember revelling in the idea that no matter how empty our house became, the "us"--Mike and me together--would be so full. And I think I was a little surprised.

So, last Sunday at Mass, when that familiar wave of want washed over me, I remembered sharing wine and conversation on the water in Monterey. I remembered that we did this, but I had a growing sense that there is true renewal in this season of life. The end of childbearing isn't the end; it's the beginning of something even deeper.

I nearly cried when Father began his homily by saying that the wine in the wedding at Cana is a symbol of joy and the wedding is analagous to marriage itself. He went on to explain that everyone expects the good wine at the beginning and so, too, everyone focuses on the giddy joy of the newly married years. For us, those were good years. And "giddy" is an excellent word for them. We worked super hard. We also giggled. A lot. 

Father went on to say that the bridal couple doesn't even notice as the joy begins to run out. It's the Blessed Mother who watches over the pair and it's she who points to the solution to the problem of lack. Do whatever he tells you. And then, everyone is surprised by the abundant excellent wine later in the wedding celebration. Later in marriage. There is this growing sense of forever joy. Forever.

Joy.

Fine, miraculous, consecrated, holy. Joy. 

We can drink deep and give thanks.

Gathering my Thoughts

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I find myself:

::noticing God's glory

I definitely have shoots of tulips coming up. It's going to be super cold tomorrow. I hope all will be well.

::listening to 

Nothing. Very nice. 

::clothing myself in 

Layers. Many, many layers. Even indoors. It's cold, my friends. And tomorrow will be colder.

::talking with my children about these books

Misty of Chincoteague. Katie has requested "horse read alouds." We can do that.

::thinking and thinking

About staying warm and keeping children warm. We have no heat and probably won't until the end of the week, depending on how long it takes to receive the part. I'm being very intentional about what we do, where we do it, what we wear, how we cook, and what we eat. It's all about warm.

::pondering prayerfully

Be still and know that I am God.

Psalm 46:10

Aimee pointed out the the NAS version is Cease striving and know that I am God. Seems the perfect verse for someone who just spent six months making list after list and getting to nearly everything on them and trying mightily not to let anyone down. Perhaps it is time to cease striving?

To that, I've added Isaiah 43:1

But now, thus says the LORD,

who created you, Jacob, and formed you, Israel:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;

I have called you by name: you are mine.

Much more on this thought at the end of the week.

::carefully cultivating rhythm

We're getting there! Tweaks here and there to last week's schedule are going to render this week's nearly perfect, I think. Until the sports schedule shifts again;-). I've been working on our daytime learning schedule because it definitely needed some thought. Think I have that one nailed down now. My greatest challenge has been to figure out where to put our gym time. It's about two hours round trip to get there, work out, shower, and get  home. Some of those trips, I want to do with the children and some will be alone. I'm still working out the work out schedule.

::creating by hand

Flannel cozies. Katie and I sat in the warm, sunshiney window of the sewing room on Saturday afternoon and made eleven new flannel "pillows" filled with feed corn. When popped heated (the corn doesn't pop) in the microwave for three minutes, these become wonderful personal heaters. We filled a basket to overflowing on Saturay afternoon. They were fully utlized during football Sunday. Last night, I slipped a warm one beneath the covers of everyone's bed. Toasty. I'm sure those warmers will be busy all day. This project is a great one to do with children just learning to sew--nothing but straight seams, but some turning, corner practice, and a little filling challenge make for a satisfactory sewing afternoon. Then, when the cozies are so much appreciated, there is a bit of deserved afterglow. Detailed directions here.

::learning lessons in

 renewal. More later this week. 

::encouraging learning 

I have to amend a statement I made years ago. I said I'd never use IEW for a child under ten. Still true. For us, I don't think the Structure and Style Program is a good idea that young--I've had 7 children that age now and none of them would have benefitted at that age.  But now, the folks at Institute for Excellence in Writing have two (fairly) new programs written for beginning readers and writers. We're going to give them a try. I have lots of MP3s to download and listen to this week in order to learn the system. A teacher inservice to wedge into the regular schedule, if you will

::begging prayers

for Elizabeth DeHority and Kelly Davignon and Jen Fulwiler. And for all the folks who have asked for prayers this week.

::keeping house

We've vaccumed air filters and cleaned creosote from the fireplace. 

::crafting in the kitchen 

There is confusion in the kitchen. I registered for Heather Bruggeman's Whole Food Kitchen Online Workshop, which is supposed to start in February. I had hesitated and hesitated. Honestly, I'm a sucker for good visuals and everything Heather does is a good visual. I was feeling rather alone in my kitchen. It seems like every nutritious cooking endeavor is met with grumpiness, no matter how tasty. Somebody always has something negative to say. I figured the class would give me backup, because I have every intention of requiring it of my kids. 

After I registered, a friend loaned me her notebook from last year's class. Honestly, by the time I'd read the essays from every week, I was in tears. I didn't learn anything new. It was a beautiful presentation of the kitchen lifestyle I've long embraced. Until recently.

It's the grain-based, low meat kitchen that, quite honestly, doesn't work for me. Oh, but I can subsitute! I am assured that Heather's workshop could be totally gluten- and dairy- free. It can. I can completely avoid gluten and cook the alternate grains and potatoes for my family. But I can't eat them. I experimented last week with starches other than wheat. Not good. My entire system reacted violently. As in seven pounds of visible inflammation over night. The reality is that this way of cooking appeals to me. It's beautiful to me. But it makes me miserable. And sick.

But. But. But. An all paleo diet for a family this size would be very expensive and perhaps, needlessly restrictive.

I was feeling really, really despondent, perhaps unreasonably so. Food is such a relational thing for me. (Thanks for joining the conversation there. The giveaway is still open.) I felt like the people who live in this house couldn't care less about the value of the food. I think it and think it and think it. Perhaps I overthink it, you think?

Not so with the people who live here. They want to eat whatever they want, with little or no thought given to what nourishes them. And if I can't eat it? Oh, well. They'll eat without me. Furthermore, they'd be just as happy--happier, even--eating junk. Someone, who shall remain nameless, made oatmeal chocolate chip cookies four times last week. Um, yeah. I inhaled those cookies. Literally. Just breathed them in and tried to avoid the kitchen until they were gone.

By Sunday morning, I was sick and tired of thinking about food. I was also pretty miserable due to the experimentation with grains after trying some of Heather's recipes. Kristin came over for football and made Moroccan zucchini boats--no grains, dairy, beans, sugar, or potatoes. Oh my goodness! They were delicious. I was so hungy! And so grateful! 

Today is a new day. Kitchen adventures continue.

::loving the moments

When we are all home on Sunday evenings. Our friend Molly was home from college this weekend and joined us Sunday afternoon and evening. Patrick was missed; maybe he'll wander this way for the Super Bowl. Seems like he should be here to watch a classic showdown of highly intense, competitive, athletic brothers;-). Michael and Kristin have come over every Sunday since the wedding. We've gathered. I really, really love gathering. I know that, as soccer season begins, these Sundays might not be so cozy and easy to to pull off, but for now, I'm really loving it.

::giving thanks 

Oh, goodness! Am I giving thanks for guardian angels. On Tuesday, I took Mary Beth to the gym. I thought the steam room would do her good. She's been sick since before Christmas--first with the flu and then with pneumonia. She'd been feeling some better and she wanted a try to do something a little more physical than the half mile walk she'd been taking every morning. She got on the treadmill, and well, treaded. I finished working out, and headed downstairs to to check out the class schedules. She followed a few minutes later, down 26 stone steps to stand with me at a granite countertop. And then she passed out, falling against me so that I could cradle her head as we both dropped to the hard floor. I'm sure the EMTs had been called before we hit the floor. I'm so grateful she didn't hit her head. I'm grateful for the care on the spot and the continuing care. And I'm so, so grateful that she was right next to me when it all "went down." (She never did get to the steam room.)

Then...on Friday, a heating technician waded his way through the mess in Christian's room to the closet that holds our heating unit in order to do a routine maintenance check. He discovered two cracks in the heat exchanger. Two cracks that leak carbon monoxide. He turned off the gas immediately and explained what would have happened when the cracks grew. Yeah. Scary. Ridiculously scary. Christian is fine and happy to have a reason for the headaches and other weird things he was feeling. We're over-the-moon grateful those cracks had not yet expanded. Crazy grateful. I'm also ridiculously grateful my husband was wise enough to provide for those routine checks.

living the liturgy

We are preparing for Candlemas. Candles. I do love what they do for our home.

::planning for the week ahead

If the heating guy isn't scheduled for Friday, I think we'll go downtown for the March for Life. Mike is due to head out of town for a few days sometime this week or next. I have lots of sewing and knitting to do. I'm contemplating watching the first season of  Downton Abbey. Or maybe Call the Midwife. Yes, it's true. I've seen none of either. So, which one? Or none?

 Photo credits: Various children took the camera to record Sunday afternoon warmth yesterday.

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.

Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.

How about this idea? What if I pop in here every weekend, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?

{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.} 

Gospel

John 2:1-11

There was a wedding at Cana in Galilee,
and the mother of Jesus was there.
Jesus and his disciples were also invited to the wedding.
When the wine ran short,
the mother of Jesus said to him,
“They have no wine.”
And Jesus said to her,
“Woman, how does your concern affect me?
My hour has not yet come.”
His mother said to the servers,
“Do whatever he tells you.”
Now there were six stone water jars there for Jewish ceremonial washings,
each holding twenty to thirty gallons.
Jesus told the them,
“Fill the jars with water.”
So they filled them to the brim.
Then he told them,
“Draw some out now and take it to the headwaiter.”
So they took it. 
And when the headwaiter tasted the water that had become wine,
without knowing where it came from
— although the servers who had drawn the water knew —,
the headwaiter called the bridegroom and said to him,
“Everyone serves good wine first,
and then when people have drunk freely, an inferior one;
but you have kept the good wine until now.”
Jesus did this as the beginning of his signs at Cana in Galilee
and so revealed his glory,
and his disciples began to believe in him.

Think

Many conversions, many decisions to give oneself to the service of God have been preceded by an encounter with Mary. Our Lady has encouraged us to look for God, to desire to change, to lead a new life. And so the “Do whatever he tells you” has turned into real self-giving, into a Christian vocation, which from then on enlightens all our personal life. ~St. Josemarie Escriva

Pray 

Dear Lord, Help me to hear you and hasten to obey you. Let me be open to your miracles in my every day life.

Act

Do whatever He tells you;-)

Photo credit: Nick Foss

Joy

Joy. Pink, sparkly letters glint the word from my mantel.They’ve been there since Gaudete Sunday and they will remain there through January. Joy. That Christmas morning joy. I want to hold it, keep it, live it  well past the last few notes of “We Three Kings.”

 

Christmas is exhausting. Who’s with me here? Moms? There’s so much heart and soul and effort and energy poured into the tastes and treasures and traditions of the holiday. Sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of the soul-gift we are  given.  But when the afternoon light is bouncing off the ornaments and bits of paper and ribbon remain in the corner beneath the tree and I have a moment to sit and be still in the quiet giddiness that comes after Christmas morning, I know joy. I hold it close, examine it carefully, tell myself not to forget.

And then, there is the after-Christmas. This year, in our family, the days after Christmas were filled with even more joy. Our first child was married and the weekend was filled with light, song, and utter delight at the blooming of God’s love. To be married in the octave of Christmas, on the Feast of the Holy Family-- of course that is joy.

 

The happy couple got away for a few days and then returned home to establish their new family in a new household. Meanwhile, back in my household, we prepared to take Patrick to college for the first time. He went a semester early and his leaving caught us a bit by surprise.  He’s bursting with enthusiasm for the adventure. I’m watching bedrooms empty in my home with astonishing speed and helping the children left behind to understand that love in not bound by time or space.

And then there’s the flu. It came to visit, too. Virginia, it’s not Christmas any more.

If it’s genuine joy though, can it be lost? In the tired and the cold and the mundane of the post-holiday days, do we really lose joy?

St. Francis of Assisi wrote “When spiritual joy fills hearts, the Serpent throws off his deadly poison in vain. The devils cannot harm the servant of Christ when they see he is filled with holy joy.” When Christmas fills us, when the Baby truly enters us and stays there, even January is joy.

Mothers, especially, are guardians of joy. Whether we intend to or not, we set the tone in our households. I watch my children carefully and I see the serpents circling. What to do? How to fill their hearts with spiritual joy and banish the serpents from my home? Blessed Mother Teresa gently reminds me that “Joy is infectious; therefore, always be full of joy.” Later, she says, “Joy is a net of love by which you can catch souls. A joyful heart is the inevitable result of a heart burning with love. “ It begins with me. I must fill myself with joy so that it spills into every crevice of my home.

Joy is the Small Steps virtue for January. This January, I'm resolved to teach it, to share, to live it together.

New year’s resolution? To fill heart and soul to overflowing with Jesus so that joy is contagious. To listen to Him daily in the Word. To thank Him always, affirming that He is the font of all blessings and that He is even God over adversity. To trust in His sovereignty and willfully make Him lord of all. To worship Him daily in the Mass. To gratefully take Him into myself in Communion. And to remain in constant conversation. Contagious Christmas Joy. All year ‘round.

Part one here.