Medical Frenemies

Medical technology is awesome.  Truly, I believe it.  How doctors can pin point what ails us with specific medical instruments have always baffled me.  Even how the most basic thermometer works, tends to make me awe and wonder.  This little thing can help me to starve the fever or feed the cold?  Love it.

Well, I used to.

I had a surreal experience as of late.  Working to determine the cause of a few symptoms I was having…ie daily exhaustion among others, my doctor had ordered blood tests and a thyroid ultrasound.

Now, having five kids, I have had many an ultrasound.  And each time I visited radiology to have this test to see my unborn child, to hear and see a heartbeat, to see a tiny glimpse of their profile, wonder and awe always filled me.  I was amazed at not only God’s creation, and my cooperation with it, but the wonder at advances in medical technology, where I could see my unborn baby in the womb, see them suck their thumb, swallow, and dare I say it, actually smile at me!  When the later children arrived, the 3-D and 4-D technology in ultrasounds made me speechless.  I couldn’t believe the images right before me, “Oh my, this little one has my beloved’s nose!”

After each ultrasound, I brought home pictures of our newest addition, even some kids I was allowed to videotape the session, and I still have VHS tapes that show them moving about!  These were/are still prized possessions in our home, and in baby books, that I will forever cherish.  All from sitting back, gel smeared from one side to the other, and witnessing the miracle, that is life in the womb.

A thyroid ultrasound is quite different as you can imagine.  I sat, again with gel smeared from one side of my neck to the other, as the ultrasound tech pushed and prodded to gain proper pictures of my enlarged thyroid.  As I lay there still and, yes again speechless, I wasn’t as amazed at ultrasound technology.  The room was sterile and cold, silent and filled with the air of nervousness.

My mind floats from one thing to another….. Gosh I hope she finds something.  I need relief!  Gosh I hope she doesn’t find anything, and there is nothing wrong with me! 

Oh how I remember the days of ultrasounds with such fondness and excitement!  Not here, not in this place.  And I found myself drifting into years past, searching the screens our tech would present, hoping to see a foot, a nose, their heartbeat.   As this little ones’ mother, I felt strong.  No, not just strong, but invincible.  This child within relied on me, my diet, my health, my strength in order to survive.  I could have leapt off that sterile chair back then, to defend my unborn.

Results have returned with nothing gained, and questions still unanswered.  How I used to love medical advances when they did what I wanted them to do.  Now, these fancy machines are driving me to a whole other world.  Why can’t they figure out what is wrong?

The next step in the process of diagnosis was just a few days ago.  Yet another ultrasound, a Doppler neck ultrasound to measure blood flow to and from neck to head.  Once again the gel is smeared, and tools are pressed against me.  Back in the sterile, cold and nervous room, I closed my eyes and wanted to disappear.  I used to be strong and stubborn!  If only you knew me then!   Suddenly, my eyes shot open when I heard a heartbeat.  My baby! 

And then tears filled my eyes as reality set in, as my tech was recording my own heartbeat, pushing blood through arteries in my neck.  How a few short years have changed me so.

As my head and neck throbbed, and in a serious fog of past and present, I was guided then to yet another testing room, for one last exam: CT scan.  I saw this massive machine, and looked left and right for cues I was in the wrong place.  A nurse was quick to direct me to lay down and to lay still. This 3 minute exam was just like out of a science fiction movie.   As I lay still I wondered if they could read my mind with this modern piece of equipment.  Please God, help them to find something, but please God, let there be nothing wrong with me!  Can you read my thoughts with this machine?  Can you hear me and how confused I am!  Find the problem, but oh, please don’t!

As quickly as I was in, I was out, and informed that I would find out my fate in 3 short business days.  How ironic to regard the next three torturously silent days, as ‘business’ days.   Am I going back to business?  Am I to return to my home and family with no answers, no ways to resolve the issues we are facing as a family?  What business is the next three days going to yield?

So, we go on.  This week the kids were still in school, wrapping up this school year with field trips, field days and finally awards and graduation.  Does our life stop, while we wait for results?  Do I slip even further into the deep void I have found myself for the past four months?  Or do I push through, live life with my children as routinely as possible in order to demonstrate the strongest front I can possibly manage.

Can I manifest the strength for the fight that has yet to come?    Am I that same stubborn and feisty mother I used to be, fighting day in and day out for my unborn little one?  Can I summon that same strength of will for these five little souls that need their mother back….need their attentive and nurturing matriarch back in action.  Could all this be for not?  Could the stress and exhaustion of this past year have worn me down to a debilitating point of confusion and frustration?

Traveling home that day from these latest tests using the latest medical technology available, I made a firm and conscious decision.  Whatever comes, it is the will of God.  I have surrendered to doctors, nurses and yes, radiology technicians.  It is out of my hands, and in the hands of others.  In my constant life-long effort to trust and to let God work in my life, perhaps this all is His way to have me turn everything over to Him, and let Him guide and decide what is next.

I’ve cleared my life for Him.  He knows what machines used to bring me such exuberant joy, as it showed me what cooperation with Him can bring…new life.  Perhaps this same machine still has this perfect mission in my life….perhaps it is meant to once again show me what cooperation…..with Him…….can bring.

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork 

Mother’s Day Pearls

Mother’s Day has come and gone, yes I am aware, yet this past Mother’s Day my eyes were opened to something so uniquely feminine, it deserved a moment of pause.  At times Mother’s Day is so focused on us Moms, which is well deserved and rightly so.  Our social culture will sell us on the perfect gift for her, flowers, mani/pedis or string of pearls.   Yet, I was overcome with a profound understanding this year about our role as mothers, as caretakers having that ‘feminine genus’ that I’ve heard of so often, yet I rarely understood.

We attended Mass that morning, and as God designed, my daughter and 1^st Communicant was invited to not only wear her 1^st Communion finery yet again, but to be the selected little girl to climb the high ladder in our parish and crown Our Lady for the May Crowning.  As I took the extra time to dress her again, curl her hair and use the many bobby pins to secure her crown and veil, I remembered something I shared with a friend, when she asked me about doing my girls’ hair every day.  I told her, “I see it as my privilege to help them do their hair, to be fun and creative for a few minutes every day.  I hope we look back at all these mornings in the bathroom with great fondness, as I felt it was my honor to assist them every chance I had.”   And so as we rushed through the Sunday morning routine, and put more pins in my little Entertainer’s hair, I smiled to myself, thinking, ‘She will never forget  these times I played with their hair, talked about big and small things, or got ready for big, special days together.   Thank you God.’

My Knight served Mass this day, as again God designed it, and during Mass he rarely made eye contact with us or me to be exact.  This day, Mother’s Day, as the sign of peace came, I searched him out.  I saw him, but he didn’t know if I was looking or not.  He simply looked my way, and made the two finger peace sign in my direction.  It was so quick and emotionless, that he thought I had missed it.  Then I smiled at him.  And his face lit up, he smiled so big in return, and I flashed the same peace sign to him, and I couldn’t stop giggling in my seat.  As I turned to my husband to see if he had seen the scene, his face told me his attention was elsewhere.  It was a moment just for me.   And tears brimmed in my eyes immediately.  This eleven year old still needs his Mom – Thank you God.

As Father called my little Entertainer forward, he motioned for me to assist, he handed me the pillow which held Our Lady’s flower crown, which I was meant to deliver with my daughter.  Such a detail…to give the flowers to my girl to give to the Mother of us both.  It was perfect.  She climbed the high ladder in her bright white dress, veil and crown.  And as my role dictated, I stood beneath her, to catch her should she trip on her flowing gown.  I heard the parish behind us singing a Marian hymn and for a moment, it was all crystal clear, this is a taste of heaven.  Thank you, God.

Upon leaving the church, I ran into someone who clearly knew me, but I had never met her.  She was an older woman, who clearly wanted to tell me something, and she stopped me short of leaving that morning.  She said, “What a beautiful family you have!   I see your son serving up there, and he’s so young, and small, yet doing his best, serving our Lord.  It’s wonderful to see.”

I mumbled a thank you or something to that affect, I suppose.  I seem to get speechless when I hear such things,…as I want to tell her all the things I know for certain I am doing wrong with these children, these five little souls that I feel so unworthy to mother.  I want to shake her, and say, “Well, if only you spent a day in my home, you might recant!”  I want to tell her I spend too much time on their hair in the bathroom they will probably end up so vain! …and I suppose a hundred other things that I feel like I am failing at.  And then it hit me, to just hug her….and tell her clearly, “Thank you.  Thank you, they are great kids, and we are richly blessed.”  For the words to speak, Thank you God.

When I finally got into our van, I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore.  Mother’s Day is giving to our Moms, yes, I get that.  Yet what makes us special is that feminine detail in us to tend to others….Even those we have no relation to.  We, as women, give to others, and other women give to us.  We tend to the details.  We say what needs to be said.  We do what needs to be done.  We can be warriors and the nurturers when the time calls for each.  We see the slightest change in the emotion of one of our young.  We sense other’s feelings or needs in so many moments of ordinary days.  It’s incredible.  As much as I give to others, they give back to me, tending to me, knowing I give to every detail; every detail has been tended to, for me, as well.   It’s in our heart, soul and overall make up of our very being.  Thank you, God.

Thank you for the many ways you have created us, sensitive and attentive, compassionate yet determined, seeing the needs, filling the needs and sacrificing and serving.

I will never be perfect at this job, but I can see a snippet of God’s design in how he created woman and mother.

Mother.

It is who I am.  It is who I was made to be.  On this Mother’s Day 2013, my vision for my own vocation, my own motherhood, gained a new clarity and vision.  I tend to the details, I was made for it.  And knowing that I may not be perfect, but going in the right direction was the greatest Mother’s Day present a gal could ask for.  It’s the string of pearls for my heart and soul.  Thank you, God.

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

Finding Each Other

We had a serious discussion prior to getting married, my Hero Husband and I.  I was determined to not marry someone who even believed divorce was an option.  So I put my beloved to the test.  I flat out asked him, “Do you believe in divorce?  Because I don’t.  I won’t marry someone if there is the slightest chance, you think this won’t last a lifetime.”   Obviously, he passed, and the rest is history.  However, I wonder how many couples have had this frank of a discussion prior to their wedding day.

Over the years, we’ve heard friends of friends who have had marriage trouble.  We’ve heard stories of others, we’ve seen people separate and divorce and because they were more like acquaintances, it never really hit home.   We could feel sorry for them, but in the end, we really weren’t empathizing.  We never let it in.

This past year, a friend of my husband separated and divorced, and a close family member of mine is currently involved in a bitter divorce.  Being no stranger to hearing gory details of the demise of relationships, I guess we had assumed that we’d weather these two tragedies in similar fashion.

Even without us knowing, it did impact us, it did have us looking at each other in different ways.  Almost like eye-balling each other, examining each interaction for those hidden signs that something must be wrong here.  If it can happen to ‘them’ it can happen to us.  And you guessed it, bickering and unrealistic expectations of each other resulted.  Finally, in a heated argument, I remember shouting, “What has changed here?!”

My beloved shook his head without word, and the first thing that came to my mind was how close these two divorces had come to our hearts.  “The only thing is your friend and my family, living through divorce!”

Again, I had silenced him, and we sat and reflected on this possible reality.

Had these two ending marriages made us suspicious of each other?  Did it impact our marriage on some level?  How do we step back and look objectively at ourselves and our own relationship, in order to avoid reliving someone else’s reality?  Their marriage was / is not ours.  Their dynamics don’t belong to us.  How can we not let someone close to us, change us?  It takes such work to put emotions aside and look objectively at a relationship and be willing to accept the other’s change and be willing to make changes ourselves.

Shortly after our heated argument, we made a decision which deep down I want to believe is both our attempts to work together on a project, compromise, and create a space only for us two.  Our master bedroom has been, like many others I’ve heard, a kind of catch all.  It housed toys, random items we don’t know what to do with, unfolded laundry, and a host of nick-knacks.  It had mix matched dressers, unpainted walls, dreary room-darkening curtains, and a carpet in badly need of a good cleaning.  We never owned a headboard or baseboard to our bed, no side tables.

Used to putting the children first and their needs, we tended to overlook ourselves, our own space where we would ‘crash’ at the end of the day.  It was never a room I wanted to stay in for long…..for HH too, as he never liked my room-darkening curtains, and never told me so.  I sold him on it, “Honey, it matches our bedspread!”  …which years later, he confesses, he never really liked either.

What an experiment our bedroom project has been.  No decision has been made by one or the other.  We came together on every single purchase, down to the lamps, the ceiling fan, the dressers, the sheer curtains, where to rent the carpet cleaner, the color of paint for the walls, the shoe organizer in the closets and so on and so forth.  I hardly recognize our room.  It looks like a room we’ve vacationed in, in some far off place, a place to seek peace, relaxation and solace.

**Funny side note, on a Spring Break vacation, our bedroom had a King size bed.  Neither of us slept well, as we could never reach out and find the other! The biggest bed was the loneliest.

As each piece was decided on and purchased, it turned out that we really do have similar ideas, and goals that we wanted to achieve in the room, first and foremost, “This is not a room for children.”

Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids. I really love my kids.  And I will never forget a great priest tell me once, “God first, girl.  Then your spouse.  Then your kids.  Then you.  In that order, girl.  In that order.”  I sat for a minute on that, to which he stated clearly, “Listen.  The best gift you can ever give to your children, that you love so much, is a great marriage and a stable home.”

I have carried that advice with me for years and years, and it hasn’t failed me.

So yes, my children may enter our new “Vacation Room” which we have lovingly termed it, but only briefly.  It is not a place to play, bring toys or wrestle in.  Now, I have breakable things in there!  Which I love and here’s the kicker, HH loves them too.

Now, to be totally honest, we aren’t completely finished with the room.  It’s a process to live in a space, and realize what needs to be here or there.  There are no pictures on the walls, still need the new bedspread and my 15 year old wedding dress still needs to find a home, but as the light shines gently to wake us every morning, and I turn to see my beloved in our ‘vacation room’ I have never loved him so much.  Not only does he still not believe in divorce, but he’s willing to invest his time, his energy, his money in something just for us.  For finding peace in hectic days.  For finding quiet from our five noisy children.

Well, really, for finding each other.

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

Living in the Now

The past is dead.  The future:  we don’t know.  All we have is the Now.

Lent came and went, and just as quickly we saw Easter fly by.  We enjoyed our spring break and while things get back to normal around here, so has my time for reflection and prayer.  And yes, as you can guess, something has hit me quite extraordinarily.

A few years back, we attended a funeral.  Friends of ours who live in Wisconsin had lost their dear newborn baby boy to SIDS.  It was a difficult funeral to attend, you can imagine.  The casket was open, and his tiny face seemed to peer just above so all could witness the value and dignity of this tiny baby’s life.  The cathedral was packed, standing room only, and as our friends stood up front, walked down the aisle or turned to show their own faces – it was clear, they were struck in grief.

Their whole church community grieved with them.  Looking about the pews, I’ll never forget the scene.  People here and there, crying while singing, hugging while mourning, or prayerfully taking their own time in digesting such a tragedy.  Making peace with such devastation, isn’t something I pretended to understand, and I still don’t act as if I know it now.  I hope to never feel the depths of pain that this mother, my friend has had to endure these past years, and will always hold so close.

These family friends showed us something quite miraculous in our time up north.  They were clearly struck with grief, but their witness to that entire congregation wasn’t missed on one person there.  They proclaimed a kind of gratitude you’d never find in such a tragedy in secular society.  Again and again, they stated their gladness in the Lord for the time He gave this baby on earth, with them, in their arms, in their home, in their hearts.  They saw their little boy, as having fulfilled his mission, his purpose, and God had called him home.  We never know the time or the hour.

These were people of faith.  And when I finally fought through the crowd to hug my dear friend, this baby’s mother, I simply cried with her, not knowing what to say.  I searched her eyes, hoping something spontaneous would blurt out, and then she nodded, and with a quiet simplicity said, “Wasn’t that the most beautiful mass you’ve ever seen?”

No matter what she would have said to me, I would have agreed.  I would have said ‘yes’ to anything, to her anger, to her grief, to her frustration or her sadness.  It would have all been justified.  She could have taken a baseball bat to the nearest target, and it would have been allowed.  Anything she did, we’d see as a mother’s grief.

But she didn’t.  On this day, on her newborn son’s funeral, she took up a role so admirable, so poised with nobility, I scarcely recognized her.  This was her opportunity to demonstrate through her son’s life and death, a living witness of God’s love.  And she took it.  And she lived it.  It was, I am sure, such a sacrifice to keep herself together, to keep her wits about her.  For her son, I can imagine, she’d do anything to present the depth and value this little boy’s 4 week life had.

He had an impact on hundreds of people gathered in that cathedral that afternoon.  And in his life, he never spoke a word, he never sat up and declared anything.  He never got that Harvard degree, not a doctor or a lawyer, not wealthy or wise.  He made impact, because he was alive.  That’s it. His family made an impact on these hundreds because of the witness of thanksgiving they showed again and again.  In their grief, they proclaimed God’s greatness, as the weekend of the funeral was the Feast of Christ the King, and several times, these parents stated, “Christ is still our King”.

A month later or so, I received a Christmas card from my dear friend with a picture of her family, at their newborn’s baptism.  They radiated life in this photo – all their six children gathered together all thrilled to be apart of God’s family, and thrilled to have added a new member to their home.  And in this card, the family stated the joy they felt to have had their son, even for these few weeks, that his life had purpose, and still does, if it is to bring one person closer to God.

It’s the only Christmas card in my house, that has never made it to the trash.   I re-read it every so often, and relive the whole experience.  However tragic, it’s something I never want to forget.  It made an impression on my heart.  You never know the hour or day, that one has fulfilled their mission and is thus called home.

We don’t know.

We do know the past is dead, the future is uncertain, but the now is what we have.   The now, is what we can cherish, value and make change.  So kiss your kids an extra good night kiss.  So hug your spouse a little longer than usual.  Tell someone you love them, or bite your tongue when you know you should.

Let go of the past.  Be like the birds:  fear not the future.  Be in the now.  Live in the now.  Keep your mind and heart present in every moment, aware that God was the one who gave it to you.

And as my dear friend, who still grieves for her son, would probably insist,

Give thanks for that very moment, for it is far too fleeting.

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

Forming Leaders

Being in a few social circles as well as active in our Catholic school, we hear often the value of ‘formation’.  As a young mother, I remember quite well, when I first heard such a word, and proceeded to ask those around me what exactly does it mean?  Aren’t we all raising our children, feeding and clothing them, teaching the Faith and working to keep our sanity the best we can?  What is this added dimension I am called to do for my children?  What is this ‘formation’?

I am not here to define the term, I am sure every mother or father will have their own understanding of what it means for them and their family.   What I do know, and hope to share, is one way to view formation of a pre-teen.

My 12 year old Thinker needed a little instruction after seeing her and hearing her interact with not only her fellow classmate, but a best girlfriend.

Haven’t we all had a friendship that at times we weren’t ourselves in?  Haven’t we all had a friend that controlled the conversation, dominated every interaction and overpowered every social situation?  These friends tend to have stronger personalities than ours, and at times, these exact friends can lead us on the wrong path, believing all they are saying, simply because they are louder and very influential.

We have warned her about this girlfriend for a while now.  We have told her to try and be the positive influence for her and not vice versa, and tonight it was made clear, our Thinker didn’t know what that meant, what should she do, what should she say, how to stand up to her girlfriend.  So, we got specific, we gave her ideas to try, how to change the subject of conversation, how to be funny to re-direct or challenge a situation, and a few other things to be the more influential one in this relationship.

Ultimately, we warned her, “It’s work honey.  These kinds of friendships that try and change you for who you are, will require a lot of work on your part in order to not allow that change.  It’s up to you.  If you keep this friendship, which we will support, then you must work at being the good influence on this girl.  If you don’t want to work at it, then we understand this as well, and you can make other new girlfriends.”

Don’t we as adults pick and choose our friends?  Don’t we decide to cut short people in our lives that are draining, or that we can see are negative influences on us?  And if we decide to keep such a friendship, don’t we resolve to be the one who brings charity and compassion in order to influence them?  And shouldn’t we teach our children those same lessons, those same techniques?  That they can choose their friends.  That if they keep some friends, it can require work, to be on guard, to be ready, alert in order to move conversations and actions into proper directions.

I have seen this exact thing in my own life, making friends with other mothers.  I had a girlfriend who was absolutely a negative influence on my life, it made me someone different from who I really was.  And people noticed.  I was grumpy, pessimistic and depressed most days.  When my husband finally confronted me on it, I decided that I would try and keep the friendship with this fellow Mom, and try and be the good influence on her.  It ended badly as I challenged this fellow Mom to see the good in life, and she wasn’t ready to hear it, or see it, or have a friend that stood up for what was right, good and holy in this life.

But this is the free will we all get to exercise.  She wasn’t interested in a different kind of friendship with me, a hopeful one.

Sad.

Because I see such a similar situation for my 12 year old.  She is determined to save the friendship, and we have challenged her to be the leader for her friend, instead of a follower.  I will be watching.  I hope that this young friend of Thinker will want a new kind of friendship with my daughter.  I pray God can give her the strength of character to accept her friend’s free will to walk away, at the same time as her own freedom, in order to choose the good and the right.   She can learn a great lesson for her life, to surround herself with like-minded, hopeful and positive influences.  She can learn the lesson of leading others as a great work of service, as it truly is, and our Lord demonstrates at the Last Supper.  He washes their feet, to show leadership as service, to work for others, changing hearts and minds.

Forming leaders isn’t easy.  It isn’t supposed to be.  It’s a tough job.  It can be lonely, exhausting and never ending.  However, I do believe that God doesn’t call the qualified, He qualifies the called.  Thinker is called.  As her mother, I can see it and others would follow her.  God is molding her into the leader He needs her to be, giving her opportunities to lead.  As her parents, we are showing her those opportunities and giving her confidence to act.

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

My Lenten ‘sacrifice’ this year wasn’t to be a sacrifice, in the typical sense, like chocolate or popcorn, it was meant to bring myself each day, into the light and splendor that is the Holy Mass.  Was my goal unrealistic, with five kids to prepare each morning?  I don’t know, I’ve seen families with twice as many kids to get ready and there they are, present in the chapel, perfectly groomed with reference and piety.

When others can accomplish what I can’t seem to, a little stab to my pride makes me reflect on the differences of one mother to the next.  Should I allow this family sitting in the next pew to challenge my own inadequacies?  (because for sure I do!)  Or does this family actually perform a different kind of service by their example?

Could it be that God allows for such diversity in order for us to learn how to accept others and accept ourselves for who He made us to be.

I may never be that Mom.  I need to accept that.  I might be that Mom in a few years and I need to accept that too.

At a recent church event, I was talking with a fellow Mom who indicated that this function was the very first thing she had signed up for in 8 years of being a parishioner.  She asked me, “Isn’t that terrible!?”

I would never condemn a fellow Mom, especially a Mom with little ones, for her inactivity in her parish.  I remember those days, far too well. And I told her so, “It’s not terrible at all!  I remember what my life was like with little ones, and it was a real, rare treat to have an uninterrupted shower!  At that time, I couldn’t take more, even I thought I should!  I think we both need to realize that we are doing a great sacrifice of laying down our lives for these little babies every single day.”

Her relieved face told me how we all yearn for a kind of acceptance for who we are, our state in life, our accomplishments and yes, please accept the ‘me’ for ‘me’ including the common struggle for all us Moms with little ones to attend a daily Mass or be super active in our parish.

We all want to.  I know I do.

God probably had other plans for me.  I am sure He’d want me and my kiddos to be at daily Mass, groomed, reverent and ready to start each day with the power and grace that only the Eucharist can give.  I want to be that family, and one day maybe we will be.

I do see that to get to be this family that I picture in my mind, and I am sure God expects us to be, that I still have work to do to get there.  And step one, I do believe is accepting who we are right now.  I am not in the habit, nor are my children in the habit of regular daily Mass attendance, and therefore, no alarm clock in my house is set correctly.

Breakfast time in my home, currently doesn’t observe the fast required for the reception of the Holy Eucharist and I have three kids, soon to be four kids that would need me to tailor our first meal of the day accordingly.

My little Babe is rarely out of his PJ’s when I am driving kiddos to school, and teaching him to put together something acceptable will require a bit of training, on both our parts.

There are probably a host of other practical elements that many families over the years have mastered in order to honor a daily Mass commitment.  Just in the last few minutes, I came up with three, I can’t even imagine how many more small adjustments we would need to implement in order to be successful at this ambitious Lenten ‘sacrifice’.

In reviewing ourselves accurately, in stopping to evaluate the current state of life we are in, and the abilities and inabilities that we have – I am better suited to take the necessary steps to achieve where God is calling us.  How important is a self-acceptance in this process.  Imperative.  It’s a starting block.

I refuse to live in a dream world, pretending to be something, I just, currently, am not.

Knowing how God has put many goals on the agenda, that is my life, every new direction He takes me and our family will require a kind of submission to Him….and that does require little steps along the way.  I have to make small yet serious adjustments in our lifestyle in order to accommodate Him.  Am I willing to do it?

That’s the real question here.

When it gets down to the nitty gritty, am I willing to see my own weaknesses this Lent to travel the distance, the road He has mapped?  And that’s where my prayer life can direct me and mold me into the Mom He wants.  Maybe it’s the Mom that has the children, groomed, set and present for daily Mass.

Imagine if this was not His plan, this 2013 Lent.

Real prayer and discernment should go into every Lenten sacrifice we plan to attempt.  Is God really asking me this or that?  It is too ambitious, or not enough?  I admit, not much thought or prayer went into my ambitious plans on Ash Wednesday. I wish I had.  Really, wish I had.  The guilt for not measuring up has torn at my soul.

So I have fallen off the Lenten wagon.  Perhaps I am meant to see myself in a new realistic fashion.  And Lent isn’t over, by the way.  There is still time to carry the cross with Christ, I am just running a little late….

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

Love Thy Neighbor

Understanding the will of God can be difficult.   What am I typing?  It is not only daunting, but at times simply maddening.  It can include excitement at the prospect of His plans, and at times sadness to see our own will diminished and His will exercised.  It’s like a roller coaster ride of highs and lows, until ultimately, we surrender ourselves and find the peace that can only come with His divine grace.

Lately, HH and I have had something pulling at us, as if God was trying to tell us something, so delicately that we can’t see it clearly.  In His wisdom, it’s almost like, he wants us to figure Him out first, before revealing His plan.  It’s rare that both husband and wife should feel this same stir deep within, at the same time, at least rare for us.  So we’ve spent some significant time in discernment….thinking and praying through the many facets of our family of seven to hear God’s plan clearly, to see how He is marking things out for us.  What does God want us to see and change in our lives, for us to represent His Will more accurately.

As I mentally imagine the many ways to enrich our family life, to make changes, my mind goes into far reaching places as well.  Is God asking for big changes, like a move, like a school change, like a complete lifestyle shift?  I began to look at every opportunity that presented itself, as if God was placing this in my path in order for me to align more closely to His will.  Every opportunity became a discernment process!

And then I stopped looking, and asked God to simply show us, in very clear terms, so I wouldn’t miss it.

And then yesterday happened.

My beloved had arranged for us to visit a fellow parishioner from our parish, that we were informed was very ill, couldn’t leave his home and would not live much longer.  It was a week day, kids had homework and tests to study for, but it all got put on hold.

They all made homemade get well cards and off we went.  Not knowing what to expect, or the condition of this weak, ill man, we took the driving time to teach our children about corporal works of mercy.  We are visiting the ill, the dying and the imprisoned.  When were you sick or imprisoned, and we visited you, Lord?  Yesterday.  Yesterday we spent time as a family, hugging and laughing and crying with our fellow man, the person who used to sit in a nearby pew and play peek-a-boo with my Babe.

He asked for our prayers as he stated he doesn’t pray much anymore.  We insisted, “He is preparing a place for you,”  to which he answered, “I hope so, cause I have prepared my own, the cemetery, I mean.”

For a weak man, his hugs were strong and filled with a mix of determination and resignation, if that’s even possible.  We witnessed a man on the stepping stones of his last life stage.  We comforted his daughter, and the kids tried to appear unafraid of oxygen tanks and the hoses wrapped around his face.  They saw a grown man, needing help to stand, to walk, to speak and to wipe his mouth.  They saw this man, a veteran from a World War completely reliant on someone else, in his last days.

We left the house, and our van was silent for a while, as we contemplated life’s reality.  Part of this life, is death.  I asked each child of mine, what they thought about the visit and was curious what will they take from this experience.

The kids had mixed reviews of the event, some said they were sad, others afraid, but the consensus of our group was that they could see the happiness we had brought by a simple visit to his home.  And I thought about that.  It’s true, sometimes, we see people in our parish, but never see their home, visit them and make a personal connection to them.  To see others at Mass on Sunday…is that all it’s supposed to be?  Or are we a community that will reach out to one of its own.

HH decided to treat us all for a pizza dinner out, and during the meal a neighboring restaurant guest decided to give our family a discount on our dinner.  Overwhelmed at the night’s events, HH and I made knowing glances towards each other, as if we knew God has been working here.

Yes, the home work got done, and studying for tests happened so briefly, however, the lesson of the day wasn’t meant to be conjugating Spanish.  It was meant to be a corporal work of mercy, and what it means to our fellow man in the pew.  Will my kids remember all the Spanish they needed to know for this test today?  I doubt it.  Will they forever remember the man of last night, and his bright eyes, and the smile we were able to bring him?  For sure.  They will remember him.

And in this world of constant decision making, discernment, shall we say, I need to teach my children of the important , eternal lessons of the day….the lessons of love, compassion and mercy.

God working in our hearts, and being attentive to His promptings is not always easy.  In fact, it will often times take us in directions that are uncomfortable or unpleasant, reminding us of things we’d rather take for granted.  In the end did HH and I really figure out what is stirring in our hearts?

We did.  Yesterday, we did know the plan.  And we can’t say that we know exactly, every minute what He would want from us.  But to be able to state in very clear terms that we got one day right – we got one event right, that we know God would have wanted us there, well, that’s enough.

Lord, keep stirring in our heart. Keep moving us to serve others.  Help us to bring joy and peace to those who are lonely or sick.  Embrace the dying, Lord, prepare him a place, a garden for him to call home. 

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

The Mall

I knew this day would come.  Of course.  Any teenage girl will want to go to the mall and hang out with friends.  I get it, I was once young and carefree like my Thinker is.

But, I will also admit, her recent request to do this exact thing had my head spinning in a hundred different directions.  I felt like little Regan in the Exorcist.

Thinker is twelve.

Twelve years old.  Is this even a teen-ager yet?  Over the years, we have worked to keep our kids protected from the many outside influences that can have negative effects on them.  I rarely bring my kids to the mall, even with me.  It only took one incident to convince me to wait a few more years.  And it was when my girls pointed to a Victoria Secret life sized poster of a model, and whispered to me, “Mom, that girl has no clothes on!”

Or was it when we passed by that Halloween store, with the goolish ghost face that gave my littlest one nightmares for three days.

Or was it the many times, I overheard loud voices swearing and cursing inside those mall doors.

In any event – I had learned my lesson, this was no place to have my children.  If I needed something in the mall, I had plenty of opportunities to go by myself and get what I needed and get out.

Now, I hear your thoughts – ‘can’t protect them forever’.  I know.  I do know this.  But when do we let the world pour in?  At what age are they ready to see and hear all these negative messages out there?

Is twelve old enough?  Is 14?  16?  Tell me.

I am a strong supporter of giving my kids the tools they need to survive the world and all its inconsistencies, but how many years is enough training in the tools?

Not only am I a mother concerned about the consumerism and materialism that malls promote, in light of recent tragic events across our country, what is next?  From a classroom to the movie theatre to the mall, next?  I hear your thoughts again – ‘can’t keep them in a protective bubble’.  Yes, I agree.  I can’t, so you see my struggle.

My question is this.  Is a 12 year old girl with a small group of other 12 year olds, going to be aware of her surroundings to the point of seeing if something is out of sort?  To detect the ‘uh-oh’ feeling in case of emergency?  Is she trained in knowing how to act, just in case?  Have I prepared her for the world to rush in, the influences of strangers, and how to manage difficult situations?

She isn’t ready.  I can tell.

As a mother, I do believe in our 6^th sense on things, a feeling, a gut instinct.  And I relied on it this time too.  I denied her request. Through her tears, she muttered that she will be the only one of her friends to not attend this outing.  Talk about pulling the heart strings.

And dear God, please let what I said be true, “Honey, there will be many times that you might be the only one to do the right thing.  And you still must do the right thing.  And this time, it’s trusting your mother.  God entrusted this job to me, to care for you.  I will not let Him down, and one day, you will see that I didn’t let you down either.”

And as she begged me to consult her father for confirmation, I assured her, he would agree with me on this one.  I just know it.  I did discuss this outing with my Hero Husband, and thankfully, we are united on this front.  12 is just too young.

Tomorrow brings another day.  While it’s cold and snowing in the Midwest, I pray tonight for strength, courage and a kind of motherly warmth that only I can bring this young, young lady.  I, pray, too that God prepares me to form her in the tools and training that are required to not only live in our world, but to thrive in it.

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

Being Trusted

For years, it seems, this delicate word, this invaluable virtue has been a battle for me.  From deep in my youth, a grave injustice had been inflicted upon me and the consequences of these acts, the lingering aftershocks, come at me in waves of distrust.

It has made trusting others so difficult through out my lifetime, even has created wedges between my beloved and me.  It has invaded every friendship, every relationship I have ever had, ever since my own rational judgment matured into understanding the gravity and seriousness of the infraction I had endured.

Trusting others has been a God-given purpose in my life, I just believe it so from the depths of my heart and prayers.  I picture Him yearning to have me overcome the sins of the past, by learning how to trust people in my life again.  Oh the trouble with people in my life being human, and not perfect!  So people will make mistakes, and I have to learn to take that risk.  Trust them anyway, until they prove me wrong, that they truly don’t deserve my trust.

Oh, how I distrust them without cause!

Then God, in his wisdom sent me a light this weekend.  All the time I have been working on this most difficult virtue of trusting others, and he showed me something….the next step in my obvious training.

Over the course of this weekend, several things happened, where details are less consequential, where as the actions of others trusting me, overwhelmed me.

I relayed the accounts to my beloved.  He asked me, “Wow, they really trust you, to ask you that, or to take your guidance on this.  How do you feel about that?”  Of course only him could be counted on asking that stereotypical therapist question, How do I feel about it.

How DO I feel about it?

Terrified.

Does that make sense at all?

I tell him, “I’m scared they trust me.”

So he’s confused.  Of course.  “Why would that scare you?”

“It’s such a privilege.  What if I steer them wrong, what if I have been working on trusting others so much, that in the end, I was meant to be the trustworthy one.”

But that’s me.  Perhaps it’s not for others.  Perhaps they take my opinion, perhaps they don’t, maybe they trust me, maybe they take it all with a grain of salt.  I don’t know.  And the pressure is mounting.  I realize I may have been projecting a vision of who I was all along, without even knowing it.  I see that in all my efforts to open up, to trust others, to be willing to take all the risk involved, I was stating something else with it that never occurred to me.

I was trusted.

And this revelation startled me.  To the core.

They don’t know me well enough, I don’t have the answers, I am unsure.  Down deep aren’t we all?  And somehow I have sent out another person, a new woman for the world to see.  Someone who  I barely recognize.

They trust me.  Why in the world would they trust me, of all people.  Don’t they know I can hurt them?  Don’t they know, with their trust, I can strip them down?  Don’t they know, that with that fragile virtue I have so earnestly tried to attain, I can defile them as I was, years and years ago?

The realization of being worthy of trust has weighted me these past few days.

Is this the next step of the process?  Have I let something go in order to trust others, that has led to this next piece of the puzzle…the possibility of trusting self?  The possibility of worthiness of others trust.  The acceptance of real and lasting relationships that go beyond the safety and security of my happy and peaceful home.

Ugh.

How I regret the past couple of years.  It has forced a thousand lessons in self-evaluation, that I am exhausted at how God seems to demand so much.  Why.  Why does He demand so much.

He demands so much of us all.  It’s true, He does.  All the time.  I suppose I had the sting of realizing I have taken measures over the past years in order to serve those demands….and my ego steps in and states in no uncertain terms, “Why ME!  Why isn’t it someone elses’ turn for a change.  Why do I have to be the adult in the situation, why do I have to be the bigger person, why do I have to change and learn, all the while, see around me temper tantrums of grown men and women!  Explain!  Explain!”

In making my own demands, after God has made his known time and time again, I had an answer to my frustration, I got my answer, which even now, stifles my ego, cuts me off, and quiets my tongue and anger.

It was a clear and unmistakable light of truth in the dark, bleak hole of self-pity.

Yes, dear woman, you can act like those others.  You can stomp your feet, have your emotional tantrums, you can do all that.  You, like everyone else, has a free will to do such things.  Why is it different for you?   Why can’t you engage in that kind of mischief?  Because you want change for yourself.  You want something they don’t.  They are comfortable, and you aren’t.  You aren’t satisfied with letting restraint go, and hurting others in the process.  It is exactly the reason you have been hurt in the manner that you have been hurt – that you can see breaking down and resorting to these tactics would never do for you, for if you did, you’d lose the trustworthiness you’ve been striving for all along.

You want change, you want something better and different that a loss of self-control.  It hurts others, as it had hurt you.  You remember it so clearly, someone’s loss of self restraint, how it hurt, and how trust is never quite restored.

Now, I get it.  In this great privilege, yes I still see it this way, to be a trusted individual in the eyes of others, bears great responsibility.  As others of my youth never allowed great trust to challenge them to even greater responsibility….I have been asked on different course, another way.  Rise to the level I am meant to attain.  Rise, woman, rise.  Treat other’s trust as I wished someone had respected mine of years past.  Respect their trust as an honor, not one to mistreat, mishandle or be irresponsible with.  I see where he is demanding now.  I see it.  And I am not the little girl of years ago.

I am a woman who can’t be afraid anymore.  I am not afraid of where God will lead me now, as I can see, He hopes for an entirely new person to be formed, freed of the sinful chains that divide, choke and destroy.

Lord, I pray I may be worthy of others’ trust in me.  I pray that I take each and every step in order to be responsible with that precious, precious gift others have given to me.  Help me each and every day to be unafraid, that you’ll be there, Lord, you’ll show me, how to resolve the past that still lingers. 

Copyright 2013 Sahmatwork

Sacrificial Gifts

As I sit and do a little mental stretching, I contemplate this Advent and season of gift giving.  What makes a gift truly sincere, truly meaningful and truly in the spirit that is Christmas?

How easy is it to pick one of hundreds, thousands of random choices our commercials show us on a daily basis.  How tempting is it to simply grab something in the check out aisle for that loved one.  What should dictate our gift giving?….What makes a good gift?

Advent – the time of waiting, contemplating is also a time to consider the gift the whole of creation received 2000 years ago.  A Savior.  God knew full well, he is sending a baby, vulnerable, delicate and His own Son, to be dependent on humans, to be at the mercy of our goodness and weakness.

What a gift.  And as much as we consider Christmas as Jesus being born – it also should bring to mind, the why He was given to us.  He is our example, right, “WWJD?”  He is our teacher, he is our brother, friend and Savior.  But God’s plan isn’t to simply give us this baby, this boy, man – it was to ultimately pay for our discretion - the whole world’s sin.

And pay Christ did.  Slander…………Mockery……….Torture……..Hours and hours of suffering.  Pain.  Death.

God, in this gift-giving, showed us what makes a gift a true, sincere treasure.  It’s the offering of oneself.
It is sacrifice.

Now, the beginning of Advent this year, marked a series of events in our household that made gift considerations for Christmas a difficult task.  In hoping to ease our month of December, I suggested an easy way out – gift cards.  ”Honey, let’s just do gift cards to all extended family.”

In true HH style, as the hero he is, he asked me to stop and think about what kind of gift I was proposing and the ‘why’ of such a decision.  Of course, it was to ease the stress and chaos of our home life.  And that’s my job.  Ultimately as the heart of my home, it’s to ease the stress, it’s to comfort, be available, and yes, gift cards all around would help us to create this peaceful home, this tranquil environment we so need in the month of December.

However, as it often is for me, and could be women in general, I am consumed with the details, the here and now – and not the long term.  The long term is about teaching my kids and living the true spirit of Christmas  that God expects me to do.  And my kids need to see me giving the gift which involves sacrifice.

And sacrifice can mean many things.
It can be financial – so I don’t buy something frivolous for me, in order to buy that thing for you.
It can be laborious - I do this task to ease your life.
It can be time – I give my time to you, my energy, my creativity in this gift.
It can be giving up my own possessions.
It can be many things.  So when I think of me giving gift cards to ease my life and home, yes, it does occur to me, that it doesn’t involve any kind of sacrifice.  My gift would be hollow, empty and not only would the receiver feel it, but it’s not living the spirit of true gift giving.

So in that spirit, we came up with a new plan.  And boy did it ever involve sacrifice… perhaps the biggest sacrifice for a Mom of five kids ages 4 – 12.  TIME.  My time is precious.  Some days, every moment is accounted for, without a break, without an uninterrupted moment, without some need that I fill.

Now that these homemade gifts are nearly complete – I see how the many hours dedicated to these gifts, really constitutes a gift of incredible value.  There is sacrifice involved.  Late nights.  Deciphering the smallest of details.  Running here and there for supplies and stretching my creativity to the ultimate limit.

I hate to admit it.  HH was right.  Sacrificing my time, treasure and talent, in creating these gifts has me living a new kind of Advent this year.  How once I got going on the project, I loved it, invested more time to perfect the details, and adding more elements to shape the gifts.

Best of all, my kids were involved.  At one point, my 12 year old, Thinker, true to her nickname, tells me, “Wow, so much time and work into this….I want one!”

And that’s what it’s about.  Time and Work.  Yes, sacrifice.  When a gift involves someone sacrificing, we ALL want it.  And why?  Because that person put a little of themselves into it.

My kids got to witness me working often on these gifts….and then I saw a beautiful gesture, a great sacrifice that my son, Knight, gave to Entertainer for her birthday, just a week ago.  My Entertainer has fallen in love with Clone Wars, and for her birthday, Knight decided to pass along his Clone Wars figures to her as a birthday gift from him.  When he brought this to me, wanting wrapping paper, I pressed him a couple of times, to ensure he wouldn’t regret this decision.

“Are you sure, Buddy?  Really sure?” I asked.

“Yes” he stated firmly, “I want to give them to her, she will play with these, and love them!”

I doubled checked and triple checked if he really wanted to sacrifice these toys, and ultimately he did.  He wrapped them, and presented them to Entertainer with such a genuine brotherly love.

I was moved.

Had I chosen the gift card gifts for Christmas, the easy route – then perhaps he would have too.  He would have done what he has done for most birthdays.  He makes a card.  Which is fine, totally fine. But last week, he got to see the look on his sister’s face, her shock and excitement over this grand gesture from her brother.  He got to feel down deep, what his sacrifice meant to another.  He lived the experience, and I know this gift, this one gift will stay with these two kids, and bind them in a way a simple card could not.

And why.

Because sacrifice was involved.  He gave up something special to him, a piece of himself to another, and she knew it….She knew he put a little of himself into this gift.

It was as if, a Christmas miracle had happened in our home, on December 13th, my little Entertainer’s birthday.

How grand can December 25th be, if all our gifts involved this kind of Christmas miracle?  What could Christmas really be like for us, if every single gift we received and gave included a kind of sacrifice.  Isn’t this what God challenges us to do each and every year? Does He hope to see in us a little glimmer of His likeness?

Thank you Lord.  Thank you for a husband like mine, who can remind me, in gentle ways the power we have as parents of these children.  They watch us, Lord, and emulate us.  If we choose the better path, if we live sacrifice, then they know it’s not only ok, but noble.  Help us to keep giving to one another in these ways, as we know, Lord, our reward may not be here, not on earth, but paving the way to eternity with you.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

Truth is a Freight Train

Have you ever been wrapped up in yourself and desperately wanted to get out of it?

Have you ever stepped outside yourself, took an objective look at the state of things, emotions, life’s reality and thought, “Geez, I wish I could get out of this funk?”
Yep – I have been there. For like a month I’ve been there. Wrapped up in self. Wondering the ‘where’s mine’. Frustrated over petty persecutions, angry at emotional reactions…and feeding oneself on my own emotions.

Ugh. It stinks to see it, and not know how to pull out of it.

And then I did something for someone else. I put delicate care, time and energy into a selfless act for a stranger. It did something amazing. It showed me something so valuable….that I am so blessed, and that life is too short, too precious to waste on my own frivolous complaints.

When we do for others we are forced to step outside of ourselves, it forces us to tend to someone else, and forget the selfishness we have become so accustomed to. Helping others takes our gaze off the mirror.

And that’s a good thing. I think sometimes looking inward and keeping track all the time is slacking off in the virtue department. I have been slacking. I admit it. Hyper sensitive, over reacting and losing my sense of self. Ugh. It makes me no better than secularists of our time.

It’s a trait for women. We are fulfilled when we serve. It’s just in us, though radical feminists would disagree – we do find our true self in giving to others, serving their needs, and bringing peace. As a mother, it’s in us to meet the needs of those around us. So, it’s no wonder, I have found inner conflict with the self-serving behavior I have succumbed to.

If I had consumed myself with what God truly wanted from me, tending to others, fulfilling their needs and less of my own, there wouldn’t be time to think of myself. There isn’t time enough to concentrate on all the ways I have been wronged. There wouldn’t be enough strength in me, to count how many times this person or that one, slandered me, or accused me.

And in knowing and believing that God made our great universe, with time constraints and all then He really does know what He is doing, when He tells us to feed his sheep. We should be so busy feeding the sheep that there isn’t anything left for ourselves to make issue of.

We should be concerned with their well being so much so, that we forget ourselves, forget to tend to our own ego, forget to feel slighted or injured. If we focus on what is truly important, in a supernatural sense, what’s important in life, then all else fades away.

And what is truly important? Today, I saw the needs of someone else. And they were greater than mine. Someone else’s needs should take precedent over mine. God has blessed me abundantly, over and again, too many times to count.

I take a look around me. And when life is comfortable, when life makes good sense, when we are happy, healthy and secure – then, I fight it. Something should be wrong here. Find it. Find the wrong. No one deserves such a grand life.

When others can’t conceive, or lose the life within them. When others can’t make their house payment. When others struggle for peace and joy. When relationships are broken. When families are fractured……..

And then, tears brim in my eyes, and there is a shame like no other. How can I complain when I have been given so much. How can I keep looking for mine, when others hurt so deeply.

Now, this is the same mentality that our society is bursting with. The entitlement. The ‘where’s mine’. We are a nation of self service.

And this mentality can seep into my own home as well. I wasn’t doing for others. I was coping. I was sliding by, but the real time and attention went to my ego, no one else, just me. I have been bruised! Do you see it! God has given me everything, and I see it’s not enough!

How arrogant of me. How disappointed is my gift-giver, that I can’t see beyond my own bruises and see and appreciate the bigger picture. How can I see others suffering if I am consumed with my own. How can I reach out to those in pain or need if I only bury my head in my own wallowing….self serving despair.

Oh, how the truth can hit us like a freight train!

But I am not that scared little girl of years past. I am unafraid of the bruises. Bring it on. Now I can see you, you ugly, ugly ego. Get behind me. I have real wounds to deal with, and they are not my own.

I trust someone else will look out for me. I trust someone else will have my back….will heal the hurts, fix the pain, will set the record straight. It’s not my job to do for me.

In doing this simple act for another, God used it to open my eyes, my heart and slapped some sense into me. Where have I been? and Where am I going?

I can see it now. And I won’t run away, hide in my misery. I will confront. I will say what needs to be said, and let the chips fall where they may. I am a grown woman now….and the acts of a little girl are long gone. I have a blessed life, yes, but that never entitles me to look for the other shoe to drop. That’s living without hope.

If our lives take a tragic shift in direction, if God wants us to suffer, then and only then, will I deal with life’s real suffering. And I hope and pray that I might rise to that occasion with the grace and dignity God expects. Perhaps He is trying me, wanting to ready me for something grander and supernaturally greater than these little sufferings I am in.

Ok, Lord, I get it. Give you more. I get it. Give me less. Okay, I’m ready.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

Beginning Again

In the past many months we’ve heard the chants of ‘4 More Years’ more times than I can count, and now that the election is over, and indeed we will see four more years, I trust and hope in God to lead our representatives in a way so that they may fulfill their duties honorably and with nobility.

I, now, turn my attention to another momentous occasion featuring the number 4.

As a Catholic mother, leading and forming these five little souls, I must not be preoccupied with things of the past, but focus on things of the present and future, their preparation for the next step in each of their spiritual journeys.

In four weeks, something very special will happen.  My fourth child will experience the grandness and endless mercy that only God can give.  In 4 weeks, my 4^th child will come forth, with her penitential heart and seek a forgiveness like no other….a supernatural cleansing of her soul.

And as I, her contemplative mother, sit back and reflect on the grand sacrament of Reconciliation, something dawns on me too, the absolute necessity of humans to have a self critique and opportunity for absolution.  We are not perfect, will never be.  We make mistakes, we forget, we neglect, we let our passions rule us, our emotions take us over and at times, we even can hurt those we love the most.

I am encouraged by my fourth one, my little Entertainer, whose simplicity is a unique and precious gift in addition to the many graces she will attain.  She reminds me of the awesome ability, after confession, to start again, to dust oneself off, let it go, and begin anew.

Even the greatest saints had to start again, to let go of past mistakes acknowledging God’s mercy….finding peace and consolation not only in his grace, but the act of forgiving oneself.  How we need to hear those precious words of forgiveness, to move ourselves to a place where our own guilt and remorse is let go.  It’s not an easy thing at times to forgive oneself, even if God has forgiven us in the sacrament of Penance.  We hash things over and over.  We remind ourselves of our failings, our faults, and relive the experience hoping for some other outcome, when in the end, we still find ourselves, imperfect and not enough.

It is here, where we lean on God in a special way, to forgive ourselves, to let go.  Confession has a way to not only heal our souls, but our conscious, calm our minds, hand whatever it was over to Him, and in one swoop, clean up the mess we had made.

Confession is a fresh start, a new beginning.  While recent elections showed our nation clearly divided on many issues, and perhaps mistakes were made during these fierce debates and dialogues all across the country…..perhaps now is the time to join in the repairing of the nation, mending those broken fences.

How do we begin again without a self-reflection on how we went astray?

Did we not treat our fellow man with respect, even if our political, religious and other beliefs weren’t the same?  Did we judge them, mistreat them or slander them?

Now, the election may be over, but the work has just begun….not only for our President who must now figure how to unite us all, but for each one of us as well.  We all can begin again: a time to forgive, let go, move forward.  It can be a time for reconciliation and healing for each one of us, to see how we have failed, God, others and yes, ourselves.

Let us build the bridges of relationships once again, and show the love and charity that God, I am sure, desires to see from each one of us.  It is in love that unifies us.  It is in this unique charity where our whole nation can come together.  But it begins at home.  It begins at our own kitchen table….mending the broken bonds between our own friends and family.

As the Moms, let us begin there, teaching our children the infinite value of the ‘I’m sorry’ and the supernatural grace that comes with the ‘I forgive you’.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

Opening a Window

This being the month of Our Lady, our school organized a kind of Living Rosary, where each bead laid out on the gym floor was marked by a student. Each decade was recited in a different language, showing the universality of the Church. My oldest was leading the Marian songs between each decade and my son was serving the event. All the kids wanted to look their best, to which I spent most of our precious morning minutes doing hair and straightening uniforms. Parents were invited to attend at the bright and early hour of 8 am.

That morning was hectic. In addition to getting my five kids ready and out the door, I had a few things to prepare as well, and it seemed we’d never get out of the house. As I backed out of the garage, the first time, one of the children yelled to wait, as she had forgotten homework inside.

Again, as I tried to leave, another child had forgotten her coat. As I slammed on the breaks and quickly returned inside the house for said coat, my oldest, who was holding my tea got bumped, and spilled the tea all over her uniform skirt.

We did a quick clean up and started on our very short drive to school – 7 minutes. On the way, a car nearly hit us, and we swerved to miss them, hitting the gravel on the side of the road. To top it off, traffic was unusually high.

Kids were fighting in the back, the noise level was at its height and I was at the end of my rope. Ugh…

WE ARE GOING TO BE LATE!

And then I laughed and I laughed hard. The kids couldn’t understand why Mom was laughing at all the inconveniences we had that morning, I should be mad, frustrated or worse sad.

Indeed, I felt all these things…but when it’s obvious someone is trying to send a message, one has got to sit back and roll with the punches. And indeed I saw them as punches.

I told the kids, between my laughter, “Gosh I wonder who in the world might want us to miss the Holy Rosary this morning. Who might want us to be late, or skip it, or simply not pray. Who hates the unity that a whole school Rosary can bring?”

A few older children chimed in, “The devil, Mom.”

“Yes, all these little distractions and frustrations are certainly coming all at once this morning.”

Then I yelled in the car.

“Hey, you, yeah you evil, get away, be gone. We are going to the Living Rosary today!”

All the kids laughed and began their own speeches to evil and then my one son said loudly, “Even if you put a log in our way, we’ll drive over it!”

I quickly reminded him, there are no deals with evil. We should never tempt evil. We might say a log in our way, and he’ll put a tree on our car. You never know. All we should do, is tell them to go. That’s it. Just go away. Like this: ‘Evil, be gone. I don’t want you here. I believe and love Jesus and we want to pray. In Jesus’ name, go away!’

My son who didn’t quite understand, asked for more clarification.

“Hey Buddy,” I said, “Do you think evil will keep their word? Do you can trust anything from evil?”

“We don’t negotiate, bargain or make deals with evil. Never. Never. We don’t tempt him or talk with evil. We tell him only that we love Jesus, that Jesus loves us, and that evil needs to leave. That’s it. That’s how dangerous evil is. Not only dangerous, but smart, cunning to confuse you, to scare you, to hurt you.

There is no playing games with the devil. He aims to win, and he is a cheater, a liar, and a fraud.”

Seeing the quick turn to the seriousness of our discussion, my very perceptive 12 year old asks, “If this is so serious, why laugh, Mom?”

“Oh honey, I laugh because, even though we can see evil working in the world, battling so often, I have trust and faith that God wins the war in the end. Even if we are late or miss the Rosary, God knows that we tried our hardest, and wanted to be there. And that’s the real victory here. That we made every effort we could, our hearts wanted to be there, and we did our best. That’s what helps God…not always the end result, but how we got there. God will win in the end!”

My 10 year old son asks, “Hey can we tell our friends about the devil bothering us today? I mean, how do we know it’s really the devil?”

“Hummmm good question. I don’t know for sure. Perhaps we didn’t give ourselves enough time to get ready today, or we are more distracted for some reason. Sometimes, it is us being unprepared. Sometimes, evil likes to take advantage of our being unprepared as well. It’s hard to say. I don’t know. But it never hurts to tell evil to go away, if you feel its presence.”

I certainly felt it. And it was my rising temper. It was my chaotic van. It was my reactions to spilt tea, kids forgetting their items, and another car in a total rush.

How we react to life situations will give power to one or the other side of the battle. If we lose our cool, our temper, give in for the immediate gratification that blowing off steam can give, then we give a little boost to the enemy. If we can control our passions, keep our purity of intention intact, then chalk one up for the good guys.

Who do you want to win the battle?

This is why I laugh. I laugh not only because if I didn’t, I might cry instead, which only leads to despair…..I laugh because in my heart, I know God is in charge. And He allows this evil, allows my free will to be exercised, for my benefit. So I might learn to love and trust Him more. So I might be fearless in conquering the smallest acts – even the fight to get my family to a Living Rosary at school. He brings me peace and joy, when I can see objectively, what exactly has caused our chaotic morning.

God wins in the end. Always has, always will. The hard part is that the devil refuses to believe it. The pride takes over, and we have a choice…all the time, a choice. Do I allow evil to work, or be quick in my reactions, and keep the peace, bring the joy, even in times of frustration. What is my role as, yes, a mother and wife, but a quiet soldier in the ranks of the most, grand battle of our times?

How am I contributing? To which side do I belong. And believe me, we choose sides all the time. We pick this good and then in the next minute we choose this evil. We do it every day. It’s a conscious exercise to be quick with our choices, to be well educated in order to be able to tell the difference. We all know, at times, we aren’t picking from a distinct good and evil. It’s between two goods, or two evils, but one is slightly better than the other. It takes forming habit to see it.

My son, before reaching school asked, “Mom, do you think we should open the window?”

“Why, are you hot?”

He states, “We need to let the devil out.”

Amen, dear boy, though a window will not stop him, our actions to prove our belief in Jesus will do!

Lord, give us a tender and delicate conscious. Lord, help us to be the peacemakers and bring joy. Help us to decipher when evil is present and be ready to push it out, push it away, without reservation, without regret, and with great hope in you.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

American Sisters

So weeks have flown for me, yes I’ve seen a wave of days flying past me like pieces of a calendar, bit by bit sailing over my head. It’s almost comical, if not a little sad, that so much time has past without thinking or digesting the little details, the nuances that used to bring so much joy. Now, it’s a rush to get to this, or finish that. Now, our home, is that face paced routine that I swore time and time again, I’d never allow.

And here we are, allowing it. Determined to make a change, though a few weeks out, our lives will, I have promised us all, will get better.

One little thing had happened recently, and I realized something so near and dear, that I am forcing myself a little time to do my self-help and type it out. Even in the busy-ness that is our lives currently, the kids are surviving….and hopefully for a few more weeks, till get our peace restored.

So my little 7 year old Entertainer was invited by one of her friends to a birthday party. Now seeing just how many birthday party invites we see, we decided to teach the children to pick only one or two very special friends, and then attend only those parties. I tell you, it was the best decision yet!, If we allowed our kids to attend every single party, we’d be broke buying all the gifts!

This party was an American Girl Doll party, where these little girls would go downtown, spend the afternoon eating a fun, American Girl dinner, see all the fun accessories to purchase and all the girlie things included. On the invite was a little note: Please bring your American Girl Doll with you to the party, as she will have her very own chair. Well, our little Entertainer has never owned an American Girl Doll, and honestly I can’t see buying her this overpriced doll. Now our 12 year old Thinker has an American Girl Doll, as it was gifted to her by her aunt, otherwise our girls never would have owned one.

My Entertainer read the invite, and her eyes looked up at me, with such sadness, “Oh No, Mom, I can’t go, I don’t have this doll!”

I did show her on the invite that the restaurant would loan her a doll for the lunch, but I saw it in her eyes, that the ride there and the ride home would have isolated her from her friends and ruined, what could be a great day for her.

I pulled Thinker aside, and asked her if Entertainer could borrow her doll.

She quickly agreed and prepared an outfit for her American Girl Doll fitting for such a birthday party downtown. Once dressed, and presented to Entertainer, as the doll to bring, she leapt with joy, knowing that she would indeed fit in with these other girls.

Waiting those few precious hours before the party were agonizing for Entertainer, no doubt. In her excitement, she began to play, and yes, throw this prized possession into the air without thought that Thinker had sacrificed it for her benefit. Entertainer was too excited to be aware of how this would make her sister feel. I saw Thinker’s face, and it was stricken with horror.

“Mom! She is going to break my doll! It is so special to me!”

To which I denied her feelings too, eek, and said, “Honey I never see you play with it, why can’t she?”

Her face sunk. Her mother didn’t understand, that this doll was special because of who gave it to her, not because she was still so young and played with it all the time. Ugh. Mom has a few lessons to learn too.

Ok, back on track. HH came to the rescue to teach Entertainer what a sacrifice Thinker was making for her and how to properly treat such a grand gift even if it was only for the day. Entertainer made a sincere promise to take special care of this doll, and Thinker agreed to trust this good promise and let her take it along to the party.

Jeepers.

Entertainer was dropped off for the party, skipping and jumping all the way, as I reminded her, take good care of the doll. She waved good-bye and with Thinker in the car with me, I told her, “Honey, look how happy you made her. She will fit in with all her friends because of you.”

Now the day progressed, and I took Thinker to run errands, go shopping and to a girls lunch, just us two. We covered some great conversational topics, and bonded in brand new ways. She has reached a new maturity and in our conversations it was obvious that she felt it too.

We returned home to see that Entertainer was indeed on her way home too. I stepped out to our driveway to greet the mother of the birthday girl, and welcome Entertainer home. I saw her bound out of the van, as the mother driving, insisted that she tell me this story of my little girl while in her care.

She told me of how all the girls were taking their dolls to get the hair fixed and brushed, as they all were out of sorts. She told me how my little girl stood aside, clearly distraught. This mother asked my Entertainer what was wrong, to which she said, “It’s not my doll, it’s my sister’s, and I am not sure if she would allow me to do this.”

This mother was shocked. My little Entertainer, who we all worked for her to retain her social status among her friends, was the first to admit, she should call home to ensure her sister would allow such a treat for her doll. This mother gave Entertainer her cell phone to call my husband to ask permission, to which he said the obvious yes…. How Thinker would be thrilled to have her dolly’s hair fixed and braided!

When Entertainer presented this doll, perfect hair and all, it was a grand moment in my home, to see Thinker’s face, who was nervous about how her doll might be returned…to see her in better condition then when it left! Her trust in her sister’s promise proved to be well worth it.

Now this mother who told me this story, was completely touched by Entertainer’s concern and care, not only for her sister’s doll, but for her sister! Perhaps this kind of genuine interest for another, and the sacrifice and simplicity that a tight budget forces, is so rarely seen in this day and age.

And for once, I was glad to be forced to a tight budget. What my girls had learned by this simple birthday party invite and attendance, will, I pray, be with them for many, many years.

So many people, we see these days, live in excess. There is no limit, no desire left unfulfilled. This whole experience left me with a profound understanding that while, living in excess can have certain advantages, the greater virtues, the greater lessons in life, at times, can come when we least expect it, within a very tight budget.

These girls will be sisters for the rest of their lives. If we can teach and demonstrate how to help each other, love each other and sacrifice, then they will not only have each other as sisters, but real friends, there for each other, to laugh with, play with, and yes, save face in front of their friends.

So I bemoan our tight budget. Who doesn’t. But these lessons are life long. So, we sacrifice immediate gratification, and look to a future that promises great grace for these kids. They will learn sacrifice, and learn to not be afraid of it. Sacrifice is apart of our world, and hopefully will benefit them in the life after, when God clearly sees their trust in Him.

I pray my kids aren’t afraid of their future. I hope they have trust and faith that God will reward them for their sacrifice. I am determined to have them be strong, and confident in their ability to move forward – with or without material things.

It’s not these things, these material items, that determine us. It’s how we live the life God gave us.  God bless these American sisters!

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

For Their Smiles

I find myself embarking on a new adventure.  For some reason, I see myself on new paths each and every year.  It’s like God wants me to hurry up, get on board and with the agenda he planned.  Each passing year, each adventure I may venture through, alone, or with my family, I do feel, I have learned something precious, supernaturally valuable to my own personal, spiritual journey.  Each lesson has been marked on my soul.  Each mistake, each success, every moment has been for a purpose, and unfortunately we don’t always get a glimpse of that particular purpose at the time.  Hindsight helps us to see God wanted this, or that, in order to be better prepared for a future that He has planned.

I heard once, the Holy Spirit blows, this way, then sharply that way.  Honestly, I admit it, lately I have mentally, emotionally and yes, even physically felt like a leaf blowing in the Autumn wind, ever bending to the Will of someone else.  As much as I like to have a certain amount of control in life situations, this fleeting and floating here and there, can be a very freeing thing when I think about it.  It’s a surrender.

Twelve years I have been unemployed.  12 years I have been spending my time raising 5 children.   It’s been a gift, one of the greatest.   I know how to keep myself busy, not only with the children, but volunteering in my church, area family programs and in my kid’s school.  Four years ago, I began writing again.  It’s a passion I’ve had since I was in Junior High, writing short stories.  I started to keep journal entries in High School after an episode of “Doogie Howser, MD”, if you can believe it.  He was a thinker, that character, and needed to keep a kind of digital record and explore his feelings.   I could relate to that.

After college, writing slowed and life happened.  I got married, had a family and taking time for myself was so rare.  And when my beloved encourage me to ‘type’ again, I was unsure if I still, not only had the need for it, but if I could actually formulate real sentences, paragraphs even.  I was in babble mode with a toddler, feeling capable was not even on my radar.  He encouraged, and I relented.  Man, I love him.  He knew what I needed, and indeed, I have been writing ever since.  I am the Stay At Home Mom at Work.  One day he believes I will write my book.  He’s a dreamer.  Yes, I love that too.  It keeps me dreaming as well, as I tend to be practical, and focused on the here and now.

Fast forward to September 2012.

Dentist informs us three kiddos will need braces, one kiddo immediately.  Dentist tells husband, he too needs Ortho work.  Did you know most insurance companies don’t cover Orthodontic work?  It’s considered cosmetic.  Interesting, my daughter has an extreme over bite, and it’s cosmetic?  I simply hope she will be able to eat properly, top molar meeting bottom molar.  I know any reader here can do the math.  Mom’s gotta help.

Monday I start work.  Yep, I am re-entering the work force, albeit on a part-time basis, but never-the less, a paid position.  Having mixed feelings is an understatement.  I’m conflicted on all fronts.  I’ve been a promoter, a fighter for, and defender of the Mom who gave it all up to raise her children.  I’ve encouraged anyone and everyone who could, to at least, give it a try.  Your kids will thank you for it.

Am I a hypocrite now?  I am the heart of my home, and my heart is always there.  My kids have been my life, since my oldest was born.  I filled my days with and for them, making decisions all for their benefit.  This one….well, this one is too, for their benefit.

I have convinced myself of every benefit this new job will bring.  I have prepared my kids for this adjustment, and not once admitted the why it must happen.  I don’t want them to carry the guilt, that their teeth are making me work.

I am happy to work, if it’s work for them.  They just don’t know it.  And the realization that they don’t quite understand the ‘why’, at least not right now, makes it truly a gift for them, that down the road they will appreciate.  They will.  Sacrifice now, for reward later.  Isn’t that ‘Mom’ in a nut shell?

An adult’s smile is their calling card.  It’s the first thing others will see.  It’s a first impression.  I refuse, yes, I refuse, to have them hide their smile in their adult years, because they are embarrassed of it.  I hope and pray for a future for them that is filled with wide open guffaws, tilting their head back in laughter because they can’t contain it.  I want them to be confident, happy and secure with who they are.

So it’s a sacrifice right now, for me.  I do believe, God had a hand in how this position actually landed in my lap.  He acted quick. I was offered this position, without even filling out an application, or sending a resume, the week after I made Orthodontic appointments.   I simply trusted my husband, when he told me, “Make the appointments, we’ll figure it out.”  How God can bless an obedient wife.  And I mean that with all the respect in the world for every woman, wife and mother!

So my plans for writing that great American novel, will get delayed a bit.  Big deal.  There is no rush.  I’ll get to see my children’s bright and beautiful smiles for the rest of my life.

What wouldn’t I do for that?

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

Olympic Fever

Who doesn’t just love watching the Olympics. This summer, my children have finally caught the fever with me. We’ve watched the women’s sand volleyball, the men’s swimming, the rowing, the archery, the running races, the bike races, and so much more. We might have been even, dare I say, overheard by our neighbors as we cheered and clapped for our very own USA champions like Michael Phelps, and Ryan Lochte, or Misty May and Kerri Walsh and yes, having three girls, the Fab Five have been celebrated to every medal.

It’s been such a wonderful way to end the Summer, and energize us to begin yet another school year, in a few short weeks. Watching these Olympic games have spurned more conversations lately about hard work, dedication and what it must feel like to realize a dream. I love these kind of conversations, which spontaneously arise, as we fast forward through a gazillion or so commercials, (thank you DVR). It’s been such a blessing to witness my little ones faces, as they realize, that they can accomplish their dreams too, if they work hard enough for it, if it’s God plan for them, and if they don’t give up on it. They light up like a Christmas tree, talking about their dreams, during these Summer weeks. And it’s been such a gift, to be present to them, to be here, available to them, so they can ask their questions, dream a little together, and watch others see their life long goals being achieved.

Something interesting happened during the Women’s Gymnastics All Around, where American Gabby Douglas won Gold. Her fierce competitor was a young girl from Russia, Victoria Komova. The competition was tough, and these two were neck and neck. It wasn’t clear who would take the gold and who would take the silver until the final event and the final scores were shown. After seeing this young Russian do her best, make so few mistakes, I actually found myself happy for her, after her final routine. She had done well, her best, and when the results were made known, it was only fractions of a point that separated these two young ladies.

For those of you who did watch this, know what happened thereafter. This young Russian broke down, really broke down. Losing the gold was too much for her, and all the stress, tension and anxiety to win flooded down her face, and it was clear, she wasn’t thrilled with second place. These young girls train to win, work long hours every day to take the top spot. How many injuries each athlete has probably had to endure, has had to heal from, and try again afterwards. How many weeks or months, even years, do these girls train away from family, friends and a normal teenage life. Olympian medalists have a different life then the rest of us, and to see them in action, to see them compete in the highest of stressful situations with millions and millions watching, well, anyone can break down, can crack, can be less than noble. It’s understandable.

And I got caught in the emotion as well. When I saw this young Russian cry, I cried with her. Was I happy for our American Olympian, Gabby Douglas? Of course. I medal count with the best of them. But to see this young girl’s face, stricken after taking silver, broke my heart too.

My kids were clearly confused. They had no clue why I was crying when the USA had won the gold. Isn’t this what we’ve been cheering for? Don’t we silently hoping other athletes make a few mistakes? My little ones begged for explanation, and then I explained why I cried for this Russian.

“Oh kids, imagine all the hard work she put in, all the years she has trained. These girls work their whole life, at times, taken from their families, for this sole purpose, to win it all, to take home a gold medal for their country. Kids, she did really well. She didn’t make major mistakes. And look at her. She is crushed. I feel for her.”

Later while thinking this over, it occurred to me what perhaps I should have said. Perhaps I should have emphasized that in competition, fierce like this, sometimes humanity can get lost. It comes down to fractions of points, or hundredths of a second, and the mechanics of time, scoring, degree of difficulty and so on can take over the reality that these are real people out there. These are real individuals with family, friends, pressure and real feelings just like any of us. There is a humanity to these games. We see champions rejoice with such joy and exuberance, and we also see such sadness, frustration over a loss. These people are not machines, they work to be the best at what God has called them to be.

That’s admirable for anyone watching these games. To excel at whatever God has planned for you. To work endlessly, with determination, with grit and vigor, with tenacity to not give up when it gets difficult. Well, that’s a pretty perfect lesson for my kids. God will call each one of them to their own specific path, and for sure it will be marked with the ups and downs of any life journey. There will be times to rejoice in a personal win, and then there will be times to mourn a loss, but in the end, it’s not so much about focusing on the destination, but how we got there. And the end tastes that much sweeter when our own hard work, sacrifice and eagerness to align ourselves with His Will has been the character of our journey. Would we enjoy any win, if it was just handed to us?

As we press forward into yet another school year with its own ups and downs, I pray that I can pull from these Olympic games, the spirit of always training hard, putting forth ones best. It’s about finding satisfaction in accomplishing what God had set out for each one of them. Lastly, I hope to pull from these 2012 London Games, that dreams can come true, when we put our mind, heart and will to the task.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

Pulling the Weeds

We are gardeners. We love to see all summer long our vegetable plants grow and mature, and then produce farm fresh tomatoes, green beans, zucchini, cucumbers and all the rest. We work hard in our gardens, we pull those weeds and tend to our plants diligently. With the many tomatoes we harvest, we can many a salsa jar for Christmas gifts for family and friends each year.

Now, with so much of the country seeing such a drought, our water bills have increased steadily as the rain in our very own Midwest has been so scarce. Tonight as usual, after the heat of the day had past, I did my nightly ritual, yep, in that squatting position, pulling those darn weeds and mentally figuring if I might have to water these sad looking garden plants. Tonight, I focused on the patch of my garden I dedicated to onions.

Now, let me tell you about these onions. I have sowed them twice already, as the first batch were overtaken by weeds and lack of water. Persistent as I am, I planted them again, with new fever to ensure, indeed, these would make it. Tonight, as I felt my knees ache and my back reject me, I began to pull the many weeds that have taken over my budding new onions.

Weeds and budding onions don’t mix well. I should know. Each weed, each ferocious weed that takes over, grows faster than my onions, they take the limited water, and pretty soon, my onions won’t have a chance to survive. Painstaking is the process to eliminate weeds from an onion patch, as each onion must be replanted, if accidently pulled with the neighboring menace.

After pulling many an onion by mistake, I simply started to trim the tops of the weeds so the onions could find the sun, and went against my better judgment, and left the rest there. It took every ounce of my being, not to pull each and every weed, however, this passage, below, had new meaning, and gave new comfort upon rinsing my hands and giving my aching knees a break…..

The Parable of the Weeds among the Wheat

He proposed another parable to them.“The kingdom of heaven may be likened to a man who sowed good seed in his field. While everyone was asleep his enemy came and sowed weeds all through the wheat, and then went off. When the crop grew and bore fruit, the weeds appeared as well. The slaves of the householder came to him and said, ‘Master, did you not sow good seed in your field? Where have the weeds come from?’ He answered, ‘An enemy has done this.’ His slaves said to him, ‘Do you want us to go and pull them up?’ He replied, ‘No, if you pull up the weeds you might uproot the wheat along with them. Let them grow together until harvest; then at harvest time I will say to the harvesters, “First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles for burning; but gather the wheat into my barn.” Matthew 13 :24-30

Why, in some cases, is it better to leave those darn weeds? Uprooting many an onion sprout has me convinced, perhaps there is wisdom here in leaving the weeds and removing them when the onions get a bit bigger and can battle for themselves.

Now, knowing full well, that Jesus wasn’t telling this parable in order to save my sad little onions, I sat in the cool of the evening, sipping my ice tea, and contemplated this very profound Gospel passage….

There is evil in the world. I believe this. And I do believe the devil works to sow evil in any place that will allow it, in any place that it will get nourished. And the burning, the hell, Jesus describes will be for the evil that has been given a chance to thrive.

And here’s the kicker, something that I asked myself, this very night, how do I allow evil to be nourished in my own life? When I see it, how do I uproot it? Do I throw everything out, upon seeing evil, making rash decisions? Am I diligent and patient in my prayer life, sacramental life, even in the relaxed season that is Summer?

And it isn’t always easy to see evil in our daily lives as Moms. Perhaps it’s a sharp tongue when I’m tired, or an angry look when I’m frustrated. Perhaps evil enters my home, when I am not at my best, and it gets nourished by my own laziness, my own selfishness or pride.

It takes a sharpened will to skillfully remove these little evils in our lives, which can destroy the good fruit we work to produce. It’s making that great dinner with joy, not frustration that it wasn’t appreciated. It’s folding that last load of laundry even though no one cares if it sits until tomorrow. It’s keeping the peace and not bringing more battles into the home. And all this, takes practice, and with lots of practice it becomes habit, becomes a way of life, where good will always prevail, and evil gets choked out little by little.

But it’s up to us. It depends on us. Just as a cunning gardener must decide when to pull, when to have patience or when to water, so we too, must look for ways to nourish the good, fine tune the ways we live, with a fine, shearing tool, not the chain saw that I was tempted to pull out of the garage.

It really isn’t that difficult to see our Gospel passages in the everyday. It really doesn’t take that much, to see God is calling us. It only takes time to hear His whispers in the regular moments of the day. Perhaps my moment was pulling the weeds among my onions, learning a lesson about patience and persistence. Yours could be any moment that you give Him to work.  He wants to work through you, bringing great fruit to your everyday, your children, your husband.

So, take this moment, just a moment.  Think of a fruit of your life, and what weeds might be disrupting their growth.  And then take one more moment, and make one small resolution – to water your fruit, and pull one weed.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

When does Jesus need us?

So yet again, writing is slow. In truth, not only is writing slow, but our lives are busy, which in turn puts typing to the back burner. I suppose I’ve grown accustomed to writing only when the need arises, when inspiration hits, and not when a certain number of days go by. So, if you are a regular reader, please know this: I write pathetically when I am uninspired or under pressures for a deadline. Writing for me, is a kind of self-help, a therapy to process information, to keep a sincere record of how my family touches my heart, and at times, simply to express a kind of gratitude for the life God has chosen for me.

This post, is more of a reflection, I can already see this flowing from my finger tips already….

My Knight experienced something very special for him, and while he only said, “Well, I was glad to have been paying attention,” My mind, of course, as a reflective person, went soaring.

My Knight, while serving for Mass, used his paten to catch a falling Eucharist during Communion. He was quick, attentive and has been trained well. As we talked with him later, all I could think to tell him, “You never know when Jesus needs you, and you should be ready at any time.” And of course, his mother, sits and begins a multitude of reflections on being attentive myself.

Is this how I live my own life? How can I teach something to my own child, about being ready when Jesus needs him, and then never sincerely look at if I live this same virtue. Am I ready? Am I ready only when I want to be ready, only when it suits me, and not exactly at the moment that Jesus needs me?

And when does He need me?

How do I know when He needs me?

As a Mother, our service may not be at the side of the altar, as my son, however, our service to others, to our husband, to our children, is where Jesus needs us to be. Our listening ears for how the Holy Spirit is prompting us is where Jesus needs us to be. Our movement to action is where He waits for us. Ours is a life of service, just as that altar server, a life dedicated to being ready, to staying alert, attentive, patient and loving for those who rely on all these virtues on a daily basis.

Jesus needs us to be just as attentive as that altar server, just as alert, so that those we do serve, will be that much better prepared to handle the many ways that Jesus is calling them as well.

Don’t be fooled, our timing is never God’s….and God’s timing never seems to be good timing for us. When the two align, and God’s plan becomes united with our own, this, this is when we are acting exactly when He needs us. But a certain amount of discernment to determine God’s call, is necessary, to be that ready and alert takes practice, not only practicing the action, but the listening for when God is asking us to act.

The listening part can be so difficult in this day and age. So much can fill our ears and eyes, that we rarely can contemplate where God is nudging us, showing us where He needs us. For my altar server, he knew, saw and acted. For us, as Mothers, it just might not be that visible, that obvious. Quiet contemplation and self-reflection can be a great tool. Sometimes, it’s a settling of oneself to be able to see what is actually going on around, and respond as Jesus needs us to respond. And then making a habit of finding this exact kind of peace and joy, in order to tend and respond to everyone we meet with love.

So much franticness, running here and there, accomplishing all that we need to do, and yet, do we see who we ran over to get there? Do we ever look in the rear view?

Have I seen who God puts in my path, and how God will chose a particular moment for me to act, on His behalf. Have I seen that moment as a slice of grace, an opportunity to live, working His will for me. Or do these moments slip by me, as I wasn’t paying attention, when I was distracted, when I was consumed by my own agenda, and not what God needed. How have I failed Him and his expectations, and how have I demonstrated my readiness?

Lord, knowing the many demands we have every day, help us to slow to a point, where we can respond to your moments of grace more effectively. Help us to stay on top of the many demands of our vocation, yet, alert and ready for where you nudge us, and need us to give of ourselves to others we meet. Show us when you need us, as it’s difficult, Lord, to be always listening, when this world can infiltrate so aggressively.

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

The school year ends just as ceremoniously as last year, with all the pomp and circumstance that should accompany graduation and the closing of yet another year of learning. Yes, the children learned great things this year, with all their studies, their advancement in academic areas, as well as their own character formation….they learned a great deal, this I have seen with my own eyes.

As this year closes for us, I too feel like I have been schooled. I too, have a good sense of lessons learned through the many activities and team endeavors I found myself involved in. And I have posted on this before, hopefully, this won’t be repetitious. However, I will say, that as a Stay at Home Mother, at times, we can find ourselves in a kind of bubble. If we want and choose, we can consume ourselves with the many tasks at hand, tending to our children, our husband, and then rarely move and work out in the world, forced to give and take with other team members, or interact in social situations that might be uncomfortable or tedious. Maybe we don’t find ourselves making as many friends as we would like. Sometimes, we are isolated. It’s true. It happens.

This past year taught many lessons for me, as all these mentioned above were not only explored but mistakes happened, by me and others, and from those, great learning can happen. Great improvement as it pertains to personal development can happen….and I thought I’d list just a few things I learned this last year, that I hope and pray, I take with me each and every day.

1.) First and foremost, is the great lesson of knowing where my true value lies…it’s not in a leadership title, nor how many people follow or admire me. It’s not about that. True humility comes from knowing exactly where my gifts come from. And knowing, feeling and then living with that security that can only come from knowing God gave me everything I have. Living an acceptance of self, is a freedom like no other.

2.) It matters not which kid got which award on awards day, and/or how many awards they achieved. What matters is the eye contact, smile and clapping hands that I give them. They care about my approval the most, not a piece of paper.

3.) People can act crazy, have a fit, yell, be snarky or plan disrespectful. The world is full of these kind of people. And these kind of people love to get a rise out of others. Giving them what they want, makes me the loser.

4.) Respect in leadership positions is earned, never just given.

5.) Sometimes, someone who sits alone, really doesn’t want to be alone. Sometimes they do. It takes a kind of sensitivity and wisdom to know which is which.

6.) Fundraisers are just that, made to raise funds. If we aren’t making money, then it’s just a social gathering.

7.) Women with big money have insecurities just like the rest of us. They just get to struggle through them at the Lake House.

8.) Kids can’t retain any new information after 8 pm. Cramming for tests must be planned or scheduled in the wee hours of the morning.

9.) Working hot lunch tells me very quickly which children I want my kids to play with and which ones I don’t. Looks like I will be working hot lunch next year .

10.) My kid’s needs are more important than any school function. Yep, that means discussing teen emotions is more important, and that meeting can happen with or without me.

So that’s it. My top ten. And they are big.

While we walked out the school doors yesterday, our school chaplain found me to ask how the year went in my role and if I will give another year. And I was honest, “Father, I am passing the torch on. It was a very time consuming year, and with my children still young, I need to honor the commitments I have made to my family. But I regret nothing. Please know that. Living in a kind of bubble doesn’t allow for some quality learning to happen. I put myself out there, and learned a great deal in the process, that I know for certain I wouldn’t have learned otherwise. For that I am grateful, hopefully, I will be a better mother and wife, having been in team settings, and in leadership positions. We always hear to lead is to serve. And I hope to apply that principle more fully each and every day.”

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork

In our kind of culture, in our kind of secular society, these men and women looked beyond self-serving interests, and shrugged off the culture of our instant gratification lifestyle, and poured themselves out. They left family behind. They said good-bye to their wife, or husband. They kissed good-bye to their little ones. They forsake comforts and luxuries. They put themselves in harm’s way. They abandoned selfish ways, and adopted a life of service for our nation. Indeed, a life of service for each American to keep enjoying the many freedoms we are blessed with.

These men and women fought for freedom. And so many still do.

As of late, there has been such buzz about our religious freedoms being compromised in the HHS mandate, of President Obama’s health care reform. On the line, is our Constitutional right to live and practice our Faith.

How many men and women that we will honor this Memorial Day, fought for this freedom that is now being compromised? How many people died in the service of our great country, to protect this exact freedom?

The US Council of Catholic Bishops is formulating a strategy, and you can visit all the activities around the country on their website, usccb.org. It occurred to me, these bishops, and our very priests, are moving, and needing foot soldiers. They need us.

As a Mom of five, I’ll be honest. Between packing lunches, mountains of laundry, junk mail sifting and daily dinner creations, I am spent. I am exhausted, and yet every Mom will tell you, there are about five hundred other things we somehow manage to fit in every day, in between the regular schedule. Aren’t I doing my duty? If every soldier that ever served our country said, “Well, I cooked the meal, washed my uniform and organized my paperwork, my duty is done.”….Well, I am afraid of what our country would have turned out to be.

Over this weekend, as we contemplate the many who fought for our freedoms, let us also contemplate how God just might be calling one of us. Maybe not to wear the uniform, or pull the trigger, as others have had to. But perhaps God is calling us to another kind of battle, one involving intense prayer, or perhaps even more.

Is it time to put word to deed? My children, indeed all children, need heroes, someone to admire. Do we expect our freedoms to be protected because someone else wears the uniform? They need to see and believe that the world is good, our country is good, and worth fighting for. In what ways we do that, is up to us. Do we attend a Stand Up For Freedom rally? Do we somehow observe the upcoming Fortnight For Freedom (June 21-July 4). Do we get involved?

Just like you, I prayerfully consider which ways God expects me to put on the armor. I sincerely believe God wants a country that allows us to practice our Faith, freely. I absolutely want and need my children to live in a country that will protect religious freedom.

I am Catholic. I raise my children in the Catholic Faith. What will our country look like, if following our Catholic Faith, means we break the law. Now is the time. Now, we must stand up. This isn’t the time for excuses. It is the time to believe we can make a difference. It’s our time to be our children’s heroes. Let them point to us, now, see us living and moving and breathing as the heroes of the past….giving up our luxuries, our comforts for a greater purpose, something larger than ourselves:

The First Amendment of the Constitution of the United States: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.”

Freedom isn’t free.

Lord, bless our great nation. As we see our culture changing, our government intruding on the practice of faith, help us Mothers, to not be afraid of what our future might look like. Help us to see what things we can do, with-in our sphere of influence. Bless our efforts, Lord, however meager. You know our daily life, our ins and outs, our commitments, our struggles. Help us to see a wider vision. Mold us into our kid’s hero, so we can inspire them, and show just what is possible when we’ve got You on our side.

Photo Credit: Kenn W. Kiser, Morguefile

Copyright 2012 Sahmatwork