Thankful for "Little Boys"

I'm a wee bit behind in capturing memories here. Stephen turned 12 on February first and I didn't even post a birthday post. (He was feeling pretty awful that day, but we did make a peppermint chocolate cake like last year's and it didn't slide off the plate this year:-). Actually, the only posts that have gone up since January's end were those that were programmed and ready to go before various viruses and other ailments hit our house. The kids have all been sick and I've been in autoimmune overdrive (not a good place to be).

But time marches on and, in this case, I really do want to capture it. Nicholas turned 10 just before Christmas. Stephen is 12. We still refer to them as the "little boys," but the reality is there are no more little boys around here. There are two boys poised on the edge of young manhood. Two boys who bless each other. Two boys who bless us. Two boys for whom I am very, very grateful.

~ God knew--really knew--when he surprised us with Nicholas that Stephen needed exactly that brother at exactly that time.

~Every time they are mistaken for twins, they think it's grand and wish it were so.

~ Stephen is gracious and unflappable whenever he's mistaken for the younger.

~They had a "Super" combined party this year and their mutual friends are really great kids.

~Nicky's hair is a mess because he refuses to let anyone but Patrick cut it for him. Patrick won't be home for another 18 days (not that anyone is counting or anything).

~They adore their basketball coach (who happens to be their big brother, Christian) and he is so very proud of them.

~They think Michael is about to start the coolest job on the planet.

~They recently discovered ping pong and now I'm quite sure we'll all make it through the winter.

~They are always tender and sweet to their little sisters even though I know they pray daily that God will send them a little brother.

{and so do I --because really, what a gift, a little boy...}

Small Steps Together: S-I-M-P-L-I-C-I-T-Y

{edited repost from the archives}

A few of years ago, I found some wooden letters at a craft store in May and painted them blue. I spelled "Full of Grace" and set them up on a table with some Marian items. I loved the way it look and the mood it brought into the room. In December, I borrowed Cheryl's idea  and propped the word "Prepare" on the mantel. Then, when Lent rolled around, I switched out some of the letters and I spelled "Repent." It was only natural that year when we went to "hide our Alleluia" that the "Alleluia" be letters for the mantel during the Easter season. One thing led to another and, with Danielle Bean, I brainstormed a virtue for every month of the year--and those were the virtues we used when we wrote a book, focusing on one virtue a month. In order to keep myself focused and to include my family in the endeavor, I set about collecting sets of letters for each month's virtue and then propped those letters on the mantel remind us all to strive for virtue.
This month is all about simplicity.

I've written before about how "not simple" my life is. I think there is a common notion that simplicity strips things bare--that it requires us all to live lives devoid of the richness and textured complexity our Lord offers us. I don't see it that way. I see simplicity being the clearest expression of faith. I think that simplicity and authenticity are intertwined. When we are being the person we were created to be--when we are authentic--we relate to God and to one another with simple charity.That's simplicity.

When we embrace simplicity, we are content. We know that sometimes we might have the resources to cook an elaborate meal and sometimes, we cook with few ingredients. Both can represent simplicity of heart.It's not the complexity of the meal that matters; it's the disposition of the cook while she prepares the meal. We can practice the virtue of simplicity in times of fasting and of feasting. There will be seasons in our lives when lessons are short and simple and we might even just need to follow the directions of another. And there may be seasons when lessons are a grand adventure, carefully planned and executed over time. What matters is that we do whatever He tells us. It's about seeking and doing God's will, without excessive intellectual wrangling, dissertations and discussions.Don't think it to death. St. Paul writes, "I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want.I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

It's not complicated. It's simple.

However, often, we think things to death; we complicate ourselves.We twist in the wind and reinvent ourselves again and again, complicating our spiritual lives and muddling our relationships.Simplicity isn't a decorating style, a cooking style, a clothing style. When we seek to cultivate the virtue of simplicity, we seek simplicity of heart. And simplicity of faith. It's not restless searching and seeking. It's resting in Him and reflecting His pure [and simple] love. It doesn't matter much what I wear or how I cook or what my  home management style is if I am not close to God.

When a simple soul is to act, it considers only what it is suitable to do or say and then immediately begins the action, without losing time in thinking what others will do or say about it. And after doing what seemed right, it dismisses the subject; or if, perhaps any thought of what others may say or do should arise, it instantly cuts short such reflections, for it has no other aim than to please God, and not creatures, except as the love of God requires it. Therefore, it cannot  bear to be turned aside from its purpose of keeping close to God, and winning more and more of His love for itself.~St. Francis de Sales

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.

For the poor dear who is searching...

for all sorts of combinations of "Valentine hershey candy treat thingies..."

We call them pretzel dots:-)!

And the posts you're looking for are here and here.

(pssst: yesterday we made big piles of yellow/black ones and green/yellow ones; in separate bowls of course.)

Is it True? Kind? Necessary?

How to communicate with grace.

Many thanks for reading:-)

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.