Baby Steps

This is totally adorable. Just makes me smile in anticipation. Aquinas and More is having a Small Steps contest. Just send them sweet pictures of cute baby feet. I can't play. But since I happen to have a picture or two;-)

 

Seedlings

I gathered my girls in the morning, just after Morning Prayer. The day had dawned a brilliant, beautiful sunshiny blue. This is the day the Lord has made!

My mood did not match the day, nor did it reflect our stated mission. I was decidedly melancholy. And I was decidedly determined to shake the sadness. I considered my options. I could try to figure out why I was feeling the way I was or I could just determinedly push the feelings out of the way. I chose the latter, though I knew full well that strategy hadn't always worked in the past. The former, quite honestly, just seemed like too much work.

This was a much anticipated traditional trip to the nursery near our home. As I loaded four girls into the van, I remembered the first time I ever visited the nursery. Mary Beth was a baby. It was three boys who tagged along with us. I was so thrilled to be in a new house with room enough for a proper garden. I learned quickly that the farmers at this renowned nursery took their plants very seriously. Their gruffness caught me by surprise and I wondered if perhaps I should not have brought children. Now, thirteen years later, I wonder the same thing. Actually, I have wondered that every year, as the ownership has transferred from Tom deBaggio to his son, Francesco. But now, I have come to expect his manner and not to take it personally. I even giggle a little at the predictability. When, I wonder, will the words of other people roll so easily off my back. Ever?

When I returned home after my first outing here all those many years ago, I wrote about it for Faith and Family. Only it wasn't called Faith and Family back then and it wasn't in color. It wasn't even a magazine, but a newspaper, all in black and white. Come to think of it, I don't even think I filed the story via email...

What a long way we've come.

I push thoughts of the book from my mind and focus on the task, the joys, at hand. I read tomato descriptions with Mary Beth and let Karoline rub and smell every variety of basil (watching carefully for Mr. de Baggio out of the corner of my eye).

I say Yes when the girls ask to buy rose-scented soap, even though we have a generous stash of lovely soap at home. I carry Sarah from the back porch to the greenhouse to the pond to the store, pointing to this plant and that, trying not to notice that it is growing increasingly hot and she is growing increasingly heavy.

At the checkout, Francesco de Baggio offers his annual stern warning. "I don't want my peppers to see nights below 55 degrees, nor should the basil. And tomatoes don't go in before you are sure it won't go lower than 45." I solemnly assure him that I wouldn't dare plant until the seedlings are properly hardened off, all the while wondering if I can get these plants in before the weekend. He reads my mind." It's going to be in the 40s Saturday and Sunday night." I consider taking my chances. Nah. The forbidding in his foreboding gives me pause.

These are his precious plants. He spends the whole year preparing them, tending them, researching how to make them better, loving them into existence. How hard it must be for him to send those plants out into the world! He doesn't know me at all. Will I appreciate the toil he put into bringing them to me. Will I love them? Will they bear fruit under my care?

Suddenly, try as  might, I cannot forget the books. There they go, out into the world. Every long bedrest afternoon, spent surrounded by books of saints' quotations. Every  early morning, up before the rest of the world, crafting prayers and praying for inspiration. Every warm friendly conversation, headset in place, reaching across geography to write with a friend in New Hampshire.  Every revision of manuscripts. Every consideration of format and layout and font. Out into the world

Seeds of my heart, tended in my own greenhouse, cultivated with care. Out into the world.

I can only hope and pray that they blossom brilliantly.

Not mine any more.

They are yours.

 

Rites of Passage

I used to like driving Patrick to soccer.

Three or so times a week, we'd make the trip. He sat next to me up front and we talked about all sorts of things. Sometimes we just listened to music on the radio in companionable silence. Those days are over.

Last Monday, he got his Learner's Permit. Now, he drives and I sit next to him up front. We talk about driving, both of us very intent on the task at hand.

And I'm sort of sad. Because I know what the next step is.

He's going to drive alone.

Daybook for the Beginning of May

Outside My Window

There is a soccer game about to begin. I’m sitting in the rec center, soaking up the last of the cool comfortable air before assuming my position in the 90 degree heat next to artificial turf which will make it feel like 110.

I am Listening to

Rec Center noises.

I am so Grateful for

I’ve always meant to join Ann’s gratitude community but never got organized to do the posts on time. Ann told me that this Daybook is my gratitude journal. So, with that kind of encouragement, here’s my list for last week. Last week was quite a week

1.)    My husband won an Emmy Award as Director of Pardon the Interruption. And then, Christian’s godfather won two Emmys for camera work on a long feature and a tease. Interestingly, my children all took to their cameras last week and videos were multiplying in my house like mushrooms in the rain. Patrick and Mary Beth collaborated here.

2.)   On Wednesday, Mary Beth and Patrick were confirmed. It was everything I’d every hoped and prayed.

3.)   On Thursday, I marked a bittersweet anniversary in the company of good friends.

4.)  And then, on Friday and Saturday, our new book began to make its way out into the world…

I'm Pondering

Perfection consists in being what God wants us to be. ~St. Therese

I am Reading
lots of books on St. Benedict.

I am Thinking

About how I spend my time online. Again. Over the past few years, I’ve come to cherish quiet and a place of my own. And then I think about how Pope Benedict has called us to be the soul of the internet. What does that mean? Certainly, it is a matter for prayer.

I am Creating

Lesson plans. Lots of lesson plans.

On my iPod

Towards a Real Education

This week, we move back into a more bookish rhythm. It has grown quite hot outside and the transition towards indoor pursuits during the heat of the day will be a welcome one.

Towards Rhythm and Beauty

Giving lots of thought to our summer routine. Gracie will be back among us, so I want to pay especial attention to plans for little girls. I think we’re going to make the summer a Little Flowers camp sort of thing and do two wreaths over the course of the summer.

To Live the Liturgy

As I think about time and how we manage ourselves in time, I am ever more aware that truly living the liturgy of the hours is the best way I can live authentically in God.

I am Hoping and Praying

That I can remember that we are all in need of healing, and so not let the words of others pull the scabs off my own wounds.

In the Garden

Mike and the boys worked really hard in the garden on Saturday. New soil was trucked in and weeds were obliterated. They built up the beds and put in some edging material. Our strawberry plants are full of green fruit and sweet white flowers. The roses all have buds and Karoline brought me the first rose of the season yesterday. Newly planted petunias promise to bring us a summer full of color and the peonies are truly about to burst into bloom.

Around the House

The house is pretty clean, top to bottom. On Friday, Mike announced he might like to go down to the basement this weekend. He put the fear of God in his progeny. Next thing I knew, big people and little people were moving mountains down there. At one point, they imported neighborhood teenagers to help. No doubt the order of things makes sense only to them and I will have some work to do, but it’s progress. I think.

From the Kitchen

A cookout today after soccer: hamburgers, hot dogs, baked beans, potato salad, fruit salad, avocado salad, and those amazing Pioneer Woman mocha brownies.

One of My Favorite Things

The first Mass of the day on Sunday. I love the early morning walk to church. I love the whole idea of starting the week with an early beginning before the tabernacle.

Sarah Annie this week

My little monkey wants climb all the time—at the playground (up the slide and the ladders), in the kitchen and the bathroom, and especially on the dining room table. Speaking of the dining room, she wants nothing to do with the high chair. That particular peculiarity is downright annoying.

A Few Plans for the Rest of the Week

Mary Chris and I are going shopping. That’s huge news for me. I love Mary Chris, but I don’t like shopping at all. Alas, I need clothing and the catalog buy and return drill isn’t very practical. So we will go shopping and she will make it fun (or at least keep me from crying).

Going to head back down to Bull Run to see how much it’s changed in the last couple of weeks.

Christian turns eighteen on May 6th. That's big.

Mike’s heading to Utah. He handles television for Real Salt Lake. He spends a lot of time in Utah. This time, however, he’ll come home with an MLS championship ring. An Emmy, a ring—the man has acquired more bling this week than in his entire lifetime.

I will be signing books at the Catholic Shop in Chantilly, Virginia from 1-4 on Saturday afternoon. I sure would love to see you there!

Picture thoughts:

 

Dear Danielle,

 

It's REALLY Real!