What Happens When You Let Them Take Over the House

I've mentioned previously what a big deal the Olympics always are around here. I've told you about the map work, the "student newspapers", the timelines, the totally awesome lesson plans. 

But I may have never mentioned a few things, things mostly of Christian's creation, though Michael and Patrick certainly were creative consultants. There were endless games of hockey in our finished basement, boys fashioning pucks and sticks of masking tape and cardboard. There was "ski jumping" off my bed when I was too snowed under by all-day-and-night morning sickness to protest. And there was a luge contest using pillows down the back stairs. (You thought I didn't know about that one, didn't you, boys?)

There was something else. Night after night of family dinners that more often than not were like an evening in a comedy club. One boy after the other trying to one-up the previous joke. Dad leading the way...

Poor Nicholas was bereft yesterday. "This Olympics is no fun. There is no one to play basement hockey. Can I please try to sled down the front staircase? It used to be way more fun..."

He should have gone to work with Michael.

Are you burned out, boxed in, and beat up?

I have something for you!

If you are feeling weary, frayed around the edges, or even falling apart at the seams, let's make something beautiful together. If you go to bed exhausted and wake up tired and it all seems like to much to do, let's journey together to a place of rest and peace. If you are willing to dig deep, do some soul-work, and seize the abundant joy that is Easter, let's begin the restoration.

Click here to take the first step.

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

Even words can kill. Dangerous weapons, those lips. We will be held accountable for the things we say, particularly the things we say about each other. 

Gospel

“You have heard that it was said to your ancestors,
You shall not kill; and whoever kills will be liable to judgment.
But I say to you,
whoever is angry with his brother
will be liable to judgment;
and whoever says to his brother, ‘Raqa,’
will be answerable to the Sanhedrin;
and whoever says, ‘You fool,’
will be liable to fiery Gehenna.
Therefore, if you bring your gift to the altar,
and there recall that your brother
has anything against you,
leave your gift there at the altar,
go first and be reconciled with your brother,
and then come and offer your gift.
Settle with your opponent quickly while on the way to court.
Otherwise your opponent will hand you over to the judge,
and the judge will hand you over to the guard,
and you will be thrown into prison.
Amen, I say to you,
you will not be released until you have paid the last penny.

Matthew 5:21-26

Think

Pope Francis’ Sunday Angelus message emphasized the importance of avoiding all forms of slander in living a Christian life.

“It’s so rotten, gossip. At the beginning, it seems to be something enjoyable and fun, like a piece of candy.  But at the end, it fills the heart with bitterness and also poisons us,” Pope Francis said Feb. 16.

“I tell you the truth,” he preached to the crowds filling St. Peter’s Square. “I am convinced that if each one of us would purposely avoid gossip, at the end, we would become a saint! It’s a beautiful path!”

“Do we want to become saints? Yes or no?” he queried as the crowds replied, “yes!”

“Yes? Do we want to live attached to gossip as a habit?” Pope Francis continued, “Yes or no? No? Ok, so we are in agreement! No gossip!”

The Gospel reading at Sunday’s Mass contained the story of Jesus explaining to the disciples that he had come “not to abolish, but to fulfill the law” of the old covenant.

Jesus offers the example of the fifth commandment, “do not kill,” and goes on to add, “but I say to you, whoever is angry with his brother will be guilty before the court.”

“With this, Jesus reminds us that even words can kill!” explained the Pope. “When it is said that someone has the ‘tongue of a serpent,’ what does it mean? That his words kill.”

“Therefore, not only must one not make an attempt on the life of others, but one must not even pour on him the poison of anger and hit him with slander, nor speak ill of him. And here we arrive at gossip. Gossip can also kill, because it kills the reputation of the person,” stressed the Pontiff.

Jesus proposes another way to his followers, “the perfection of love: a love in which the only measure is not to measure, but to go beyond all calculating.”

This Christian path of loving one’s neighbor is “so fundamental that Jesus comes to say that our relationship with God can not be honest if we do not want to make peace with our neighbor.”

Source

Pray

Dear Lord, For all the times I've gossiped or slandered, I am truly sorry. Please forgive me. And give me the grace and the courage to reconcile with the people my words have hurt.

Act

Is the someone to whom you need to be reconciled because of the sins committed by your tongue? Go! Today.

*~*~*~*~*

How can I pray for you this week?

A Great, Big Valentine's Bouquet

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I used to hate Valentine's Day. All romantic notions and lofty daydreams wrapped in red satin bows, just waiting for disappointment and disillusionment. It never works out the way it does on the Hallmark channel. I tread carefully here, since I've had the same Valentine for over thirty years and I absolutely wouldn't have it any other way. He speaks a beautiful love language. But offerings of flowers and candlelight on a specific day in the middle of February isn't it.

Truth be told, I'm not the best gift-giver either. I try hard, but I can't always make the grand ideas in my head match what actually happens, especially on a deadline of someone else's making. Two years ago, I hated Valentine's Day the most. That was my first year of Instagram. Since I use Pinterest maybe 4 times a year and only when I'm specifically researching to find out how to do something, Instagram is my visual connection to the vast world out there. 

Instagram explodes with hearts and flowers and husbands and mothers who are just so very good at this whole Valentine thing.  Last year, I didn't even look there at all on February 14 because the year before it was so deflating. Not good enough. Not good enough. Not good enough.

It's a language problem, really. I see that now. Love speaks so many languages and sometimes, there is only one person in the world who can understand the language of another. And, if that is the case, then a picture posted for all the world to see probably isn't going to convey its meaning.

My friend Lisa-Jo is writing today about all the ways Love runs. She is putting words to the expressions of love that far exceed cards in red envelopes and out-of-season, not-local-at-all flowers. She's got an amazing, amazing act of love to tell you about, something we can all share. 

She asked about gardens and love. I laughed out loud, alone in my bed last night, when I read it. Gardens are sort of running joke around here. In my imagination, I have a lush, beautiful garden growing in my backyard. Something nearly big enough to sustain us. It's a ridiculous dream in a lot of ways. I can't do the labor to establish a garden of that size. Most of our backyard is a soccer field. And, really, do the math: do you know how much spinach I'd have to plant to keep a family this size in salad? It's crazy. My husband spends long days working and any "leisure time" caring for his children. He wasn't called to be a farmer, even of a little farm. He was called to be the dad on the sidelines all over the world.

So, I have a little vegetable garden and a full bed of roses along the side of the house. And I can't ever go out to tend those roses without remembering the words spoken by Blessed Teresa of Calcutta. "How can there be too many children? That's like saying there are too many flowers."

My husband has spent the last 26 years gathering the most amazing bouquet for me. He tends it ever so carefully. He shelters it in life's raging storms. He tenderly tucks warmth around it on cold nights and he offers it nourishment and refreshment on hot days. He blows gentle breezes onto its faces and smiles sunshine at how beautifully it blooms. 

Today, he'll try to do a little airline magic to get home after all flights were canceled yesterday. Likely, he'll have to drive to an airport other than the one he intended originally. He'll have to catch a plane that flies "home" to the airport in the city instead of the one ten minutes from our house. He'll have to drive home in the slippery, ugly aftermath of what used to be a beautiful snowstorm. And then, he will walk through the door and love will light the room. He'll gather tender rosebuds, and tall, woody reeds of gold. He'll tousle their heads and kiss their cheeks and take their handmade offerings and tell them how wonderful it all is. 

I will remember that this is my Valentine bouquet, grown in the garden of his heart and this man has sown seeds of love and made sure the finest blossoms grew. every. single. day. since he first promised he would on a dark Valentine's Eve 32 years ago. That's one dedicated gardener, there.

 

"There is no greater happiness for a man than approaching a door at the end of a day knowing someone on the other side of that door is waiting for the sound of his footsteps."

~ Ronald Reagan

My heart skips a beat just thinking about his footsteps on the front porch.

Psst: Go visit Lisa-Jo.

{This Moment}

(Photo credit: Zach, Patrick's roomate, who made me laugh until I cried yesterday. This is Patrick.

Worth a thousand words.)