December 20, 2011
Dear Daddy,
This letter is 3 years too late I know. There was so much I should have told you but time ran out. I didn't even realize the clock was ticking. If only I could have known, all the things I would said and done differently. I'm sorry Daddy. I'm sorry for all the times I disappointed you. I'm sorry for all the times I let you down and didn't do as you wanted and expected. I'm sorry for all the tears you shed because of me. I'm sorry for all the sleepless nights and worry lines I caused to appear on your dear face. I'm sorry that I never said thank you enough. I'm sorry I didn't call more and visit more and do more for you. I'm sorry for all the times I was impatient and didn't take the time to listen. I'm sorry for all the times I seemed indifferent and uncaring and defiant. I'm sorry I never told you thank you for all the sacrifices you made for me and for all the prayers you said for me. (And they numbered in the thousands of multitudes I know!)
Thank you for all the time you spent with me. For all the hikes we took and the times we got "lost". For all the breakfasts you made for me - granted the oatmeal with everything in it wasn't so great, and neither was the green bread - but the soft scrambled eggs and liver was the tops! You taught me how to drive and to depend on no one but myself. Every useful thing I know how to do, came from you - how to pray, grow a garden, milk, to can/preserve what you harvest, making homemade bread, cooking, changing a flat tire, changing the oil/brakes/ etc on a car, driving a stick, how to make change, how to live a healthy lifestyle - I learned so much from you it would take volumes to list it all. I can't thank you enough for imparting some of your vast knowledge to me. You knew so much about so many different things, you never ceased to amaze me. Sitting in your Health Food Store listening to you talk to the customers about many varied subjects I was in awe. There wasn't anything that you didn't know something about. I saw your willingness to help others and put yourself last on so many different occasions.
Your life was not an easy one and you were not always easy to live with. Now that I am older with children of my own I understand better now. I can't imagine the stress and strain you were under trying to raise young girls alone. Not to mention you had a business that quite often didn't make enough to pay for itself let alone all the necessities needed at home. Plus all the work that goes into keeping up with household and car repairs and general maintenance. I wish I had had the knowledge and patience to understand then. I'm sorry Daddy. I wish I had helped you more and not been so selfish and self-centered and impatient and wanting.
Thank you for all the times you welcomed me back home with open arms. I know I was such a disappointment to you in my youth. I can only hope that later in life I was able to make you somewhat proud of me. Thank you for loving all of my children and playing with them. They miss you so much! Thank you for all the bike rides, kite flying, swimming, pranks, talking, walking, ice cream churning, weed pulling, building and planting that you did with them. You were and still are their beloved "Bompa".
Thank you for all the efforts you made over the years to make sure I knew my Faith. All the long trips we made so we could get to Mass - I know I didn't appreciate them at the time, but now I do. Thank you for teaching me to pray. Your life was a constant prayer. Even when you were busy with other things, you were still praying. You never stopped reading and learning and doing for others. You never worried much about yourself or your own comfort, but you made sure others had what they needed. You worried so much about the future and providing food and basic comforts for those who might need it, that you neglected taking care of the things that would have made your own life easier. You lived the life of a humble servant of God.
I miss your hugs Daddy. I miss hearing you call me sweets. I miss being introduced as your baby girl. I miss picking up the phone to call you when I had a question only you could answer. I miss hearing your laugh. I miss the excited voices of my children yelling "Bompa! Bompa!" I miss seeing you sitting at my dining room table. I miss hearing your stories. I miss everything about you!
You lived a faithful life of being a servant of God. Your devotion to our Blessed Mother was evident. Your life was a constant prayer. Your life was never easy, and it seemed as if you always had to try and try again in order for things to work out. You never gave up. I know there were numerous times you wanted to. And there were times you took a rest. But you always came back to the task at hand and tried to finish and make it work. You lived a life of perseverance and unwavering faith. Your morals and work ethic were unequaled. You never gave up. I learned so much from you, and want so much to be more like you.
When you left us three years ago, my world fell apart. I lost my anchor and my mentor. I lost the one constant in my life. I lost the one person I could count on no matter what. I lost the only one who always forgave all my misdeeds and shortcomings and never held a grudge against me. I lost the only parent I ever really had. I lost the man that raised me, taught me right from wrong and always forgave me when I did wrong instead of right. I lost my biggest supporter and the first man I ever loved. Your leaving left a hole that I now know will never be filled.
I know that you are still watching over me. I know that you are still praying for me. I know that you are being richly rewarded for your unwavering faith and love of God. I wouldn't bring you back even if I could, but I just wish I could have one more hour - I really want a whole day - but that seems too greedy! I wish I could see you one more time, to tell you all the things I neglected to tell you. To receive your blessing one last time. To thank you. To feel you hug me one more time. To tell tell you that you did the best you could - and that your best was pretty darn amazing! I love you Daddy - You are forever in my heart.
Love,
Your baby girl
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
the jacket with 9 lives
This is the story of a jacket that will not go away!
When Thomas was in second grade (4 years ago - as he is in 6th now) he found a denim jacket with a fleece type interior. A very warm looking jacking. If you picture the Marlboro Man and his jacket of the 80's you have the correct image of the jacket Thomas found - except Thomas' jacket was denim not swede.
Thomas wore this jacket constantly. It had buttons and he insisted on wearing it buttoned up to the very tip top button. At first I was ok with it. It was kinda cute. Thomas looked like a little old man wearing that jacket. He reminded me a bit of my Daddy. Then it got to be a little irritating. He refused to let it be washed so it would get a little grungy. And he wore it everyday, all day. Even on days it wasn't cold.And he never took it off. And it was always buttoned all the way to top. I'd put the jacket in the wash pile only to turn around and see Thomas wearing it before it got washed. And he refused to wear any other jacket. He got a really nice ski jacket for Christmas. I put the other one away. It reappeared. I put it in a bag of clothes to give away. I hauled the bag of clothes away. The next day, Thomas was wearing THE COAT! This went on all winter long. I'd try to make it go away and somehow someway it always came back. Every winter it always reappeared. No matter how many times I put in in a bag to give it away somehow it always came back. ALWAYS! As Thomas got older the sleeves began to shrink and the shoulders got tight. Yet he still continued to wear it. Everyday. Everywhere. Grungy. Buttoned to the tip top. Like a little old man. Until finally - hallelujah- he admitted that it had gotten too small and very reluctantly put it in the bag of clothes to give away. I didn't give the coat another thought until........
The first day of cold weather this year - guess what?? The coat came back! This time Mark is wearing it. Very proudly proclaiming that his brother Thomas gave it to him. And Mark has worn it everyday since...... I guess the coat is here to stay...........
Somewhere I am sure there is a lesson to be learned here...... LOL
When Thomas was in second grade (4 years ago - as he is in 6th now) he found a denim jacket with a fleece type interior. A very warm looking jacking. If you picture the Marlboro Man and his jacket of the 80's you have the correct image of the jacket Thomas found - except Thomas' jacket was denim not swede.
Thomas wore this jacket constantly. It had buttons and he insisted on wearing it buttoned up to the very tip top button. At first I was ok with it. It was kinda cute. Thomas looked like a little old man wearing that jacket. He reminded me a bit of my Daddy. Then it got to be a little irritating. He refused to let it be washed so it would get a little grungy. And he wore it everyday, all day. Even on days it wasn't cold.And he never took it off. And it was always buttoned all the way to top. I'd put the jacket in the wash pile only to turn around and see Thomas wearing it before it got washed. And he refused to wear any other jacket. He got a really nice ski jacket for Christmas. I put the other one away. It reappeared. I put it in a bag of clothes to give away. I hauled the bag of clothes away. The next day, Thomas was wearing THE COAT! This went on all winter long. I'd try to make it go away and somehow someway it always came back. Every winter it always reappeared. No matter how many times I put in in a bag to give it away somehow it always came back. ALWAYS! As Thomas got older the sleeves began to shrink and the shoulders got tight. Yet he still continued to wear it. Everyday. Everywhere. Grungy. Buttoned to the tip top. Like a little old man. Until finally - hallelujah- he admitted that it had gotten too small and very reluctantly put it in the bag of clothes to give away. I didn't give the coat another thought until........
The first day of cold weather this year - guess what?? The coat came back! This time Mark is wearing it. Very proudly proclaiming that his brother Thomas gave it to him. And Mark has worn it everyday since...... I guess the coat is here to stay...........
Somewhere I am sure there is a lesson to be learned here...... LOL
Thursday, September 8, 2011
once upon a time
Once upon a time I was gonna take the world by storm. I was going make a difference. I was going do great and wonderful things. I was going travel and explore and lead people to new and exciting discoveries. I would be famous and inspire others into leading a life of discovery. I was going to be SOMEBODY!
When I was a little girl reading the stories of pioneers heading out west and the hardships they endured I was determined that when I grew up I was going to go discover new lands and forge new nations. Or if there wasnt any new land to discover I was going to go into the uncharted territories and brave the wilderness and isolation in order to claim and tame the new lands. I wanted to be another Laura Ingles Wilder, or a Calamity Jane, or a Mary Fields. I wanted to go on a Lewis and Clark expedition. I wanted to sail the rough seas and climb mountains in search of new unblemished lands.
Reading the stories of Florence Nightingale, Marie Curie, Clara Barton, Louisa May ALcott and others I was going to be a great nurse or scientist and help people in their weakest moments. I would bravely and boldly go to the war zones and minster to the wounded. I would soothe fevered brows, treat gangrene, change bandages. I would make an incredible scientific discovery that would save millions of lives. I would win a Nobel Prize.
As I read the stories of the crusaders and the missionaries like Fr. Damien, Isaac Jogues, Francis Xavier, Mother Theresa, who went to foreign lands spreading the Gospel to the heathen people I was on fire to do the same. They faced certain death and endless hardships and torture and yet they still persevered in spreading the Good News. I too was determined that I would travel to far away exotic lands spreading the good news of Jesus. I was ready to suffer and face all the hardships necessary in order to help save souls.
Reading the exciting adventures of Joan of Arc, Amelia Earhart, Cleopatra, Susan B. Anthony, Sally Ride and Annie Oakley made me determined to learn to do anything a man could do, only do it better. I would be a woman, but I would make my place in a man's world and they would all sit up and take notice.
The works of Leo Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Boris Pasternak, Emily Dickinson, Anne Frank, Walt Whitman, made me fall in love with the written word and how it could inspire social change, move people to laughter, anger, sorrow and tears. The depth of emotion portrayed by the written word made me want to be an author of world renown. I was going to write books that inspired, motivated, comforted, led, evoked deep lasting life changing emotion. I would be known far and wide for my poetic prose, my deep understanding of human emotion and frailties and idiosyncrasies.
Once upon a time I was going to be noticed. I was going to do things..... important things.
Alas my once upon a time dreams have not come to fruition. I have not taken the world by storm. I have not brought about great change, or made important discoveries. I have not traveled to exotic lands preaching the Good News. Men have not sat up and taken notice that I was within their midst riding, and shooting and exploring and being their equal. I have not been an angel of mercy to men in agony on the battle field. I have not become a great leader inspiring loyalty and a love of God and country in my fellowman. I have not done anything grand or spectacular or particularly note worthy. I have not changed the world in any big way.
But maybe on a much smaller scale I have helped change the world. I am a "nurse" and minister to those in need when sickness, pain or injury strikes. I'm a "pioneer" and an "explorer of exotic lands" as I open young minds to the wonderful world we live in and how much there is to expolore and do and conquer. I am a "fearless missionary" when I talk of Jesus and teach the Gospel and try to put into practice in my everyday ordinary life what I preach and believe. I am a "fearless leader" to my children as I try to instill in them good morals, ethics, and values. My writings aren't anything spectacular or life changing, but perhaps they do bring comfort or laughter to those who read them. I know that in reality I am living a pretty obscure life, but that's OK, because in my own little corner of the Universe I have made a difference. And that's enough for me!
When I was a little girl reading the stories of pioneers heading out west and the hardships they endured I was determined that when I grew up I was going to go discover new lands and forge new nations. Or if there wasnt any new land to discover I was going to go into the uncharted territories and brave the wilderness and isolation in order to claim and tame the new lands. I wanted to be another Laura Ingles Wilder, or a Calamity Jane, or a Mary Fields. I wanted to go on a Lewis and Clark expedition. I wanted to sail the rough seas and climb mountains in search of new unblemished lands.
Reading the stories of Florence Nightingale, Marie Curie, Clara Barton, Louisa May ALcott and others I was going to be a great nurse or scientist and help people in their weakest moments. I would bravely and boldly go to the war zones and minster to the wounded. I would soothe fevered brows, treat gangrene, change bandages. I would make an incredible scientific discovery that would save millions of lives. I would win a Nobel Prize.
As I read the stories of the crusaders and the missionaries like Fr. Damien, Isaac Jogues, Francis Xavier, Mother Theresa, who went to foreign lands spreading the Gospel to the heathen people I was on fire to do the same. They faced certain death and endless hardships and torture and yet they still persevered in spreading the Good News. I too was determined that I would travel to far away exotic lands spreading the good news of Jesus. I was ready to suffer and face all the hardships necessary in order to help save souls.
Reading the exciting adventures of Joan of Arc, Amelia Earhart, Cleopatra, Susan B. Anthony, Sally Ride and Annie Oakley made me determined to learn to do anything a man could do, only do it better. I would be a woman, but I would make my place in a man's world and they would all sit up and take notice.
The works of Leo Tolstoy, Shakespeare, Harriet Beecher Stowe, Boris Pasternak, Emily Dickinson, Anne Frank, Walt Whitman, made me fall in love with the written word and how it could inspire social change, move people to laughter, anger, sorrow and tears. The depth of emotion portrayed by the written word made me want to be an author of world renown. I was going to write books that inspired, motivated, comforted, led, evoked deep lasting life changing emotion. I would be known far and wide for my poetic prose, my deep understanding of human emotion and frailties and idiosyncrasies.
Once upon a time I was going to be noticed. I was going to do things..... important things.
Alas my once upon a time dreams have not come to fruition. I have not taken the world by storm. I have not brought about great change, or made important discoveries. I have not traveled to exotic lands preaching the Good News. Men have not sat up and taken notice that I was within their midst riding, and shooting and exploring and being their equal. I have not been an angel of mercy to men in agony on the battle field. I have not become a great leader inspiring loyalty and a love of God and country in my fellowman. I have not done anything grand or spectacular or particularly note worthy. I have not changed the world in any big way.
But maybe on a much smaller scale I have helped change the world. I am a "nurse" and minister to those in need when sickness, pain or injury strikes. I'm a "pioneer" and an "explorer of exotic lands" as I open young minds to the wonderful world we live in and how much there is to expolore and do and conquer. I am a "fearless missionary" when I talk of Jesus and teach the Gospel and try to put into practice in my everyday ordinary life what I preach and believe. I am a "fearless leader" to my children as I try to instill in them good morals, ethics, and values. My writings aren't anything spectacular or life changing, but perhaps they do bring comfort or laughter to those who read them. I know that in reality I am living a pretty obscure life, but that's OK, because in my own little corner of the Universe I have made a difference. And that's enough for me!
Monday, August 29, 2011
you just can't reason with a goat
i have a love hate relationship with goats. i love to hate them! this relationship has been ongoing in my life for as long as i can remember. let me give you a little background.....
i spent my entire childhood chasing goats. Daddy kept a small herd of Nubian goats. there is almost nothing cuter than a baby Nubian goat. they have the longest softest ears. long eyelashes, sleepy eyes and twitching tails.
then they grow up......
to be honest the fence Daddy had built was not really goat worthy. (in Daddy's defense tho, he really didn't have much time to devote to building a proper fence. He worked 6 days a week from 9 until 6 or later at his Health Food Store) the fence was electric but the problem with electric fences and goats is if they get shocked the goat is going to keep going in the same direction it was headed when it got shocked. goats do not back up and retreat! goats are also very good jumpers. they can easily clear a 6 foot fence if they so desire. and if a goat has a desire to go nibble on a brier 3 counties away - it will go.... never mind what obstacle may be in the way....
but to continue.... i spent my entire childhood chasing goats. in the mornings before school it was my job to go feed and milk them with my dad. as i got older that job fell to me alone. after missing the bus several mornings due to the fact that i had to go find the goats first in order to get them into the barn to milk them i finally got smart and started penning them up at night. i would however let them out into the field to graze during the day once the milking was finished. i could always count on returning home from school to find them standing on the side of the road, or in the middle of the road, or in the driveway, or up on top of one of the many wrecked vehicles that lined the driveway . imagine my embarrassment to come home everyday on the bus to find the goats out. and of course everyday i had to hear "hey mary your goats are out" this would always be followed by hysterical laughter. i would cringe and slink off the bus trying to be invisible. the goats would run up to me baaaaaing their hellos.the bus would pull away and the laughter would echo and linger.....
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
i decided that in the mornings after milking i would leave the goats in the barn and once i got home from school i would let them out. well needless to say when Daddy discovered what i was doing i got in BIG trouble! the milk production dropped and i had no choice but to let them out again in the mornings. i begged and pleaded with the goats the whole time i was milking them. i begged them to just stay put in the field while i was away at school. i promised them all kinds of treats if only they would behave and be good goats. my begging and bribery seemed to work because that day the goats were not standing in the middle of the road, nor were they standing on the side of the road. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a blur caught my eye. the goats had been laying in wait for the bus. here they all came flying down the bank and lickety split slid across the road in front of the bus. our poor bus driver let out a scream and slammed on the brakes. all the goats remained unscathed. i guess they thought it was great fun after that because invariably if they were not standing in plain sight i could count on them to come flying down the bank, slip and slid across the road in front of the bus and then with tails twitching they would sash shay on down the other bank to the barn.
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
in the summer it would be my job to watch them and make sure they stayed out of our gardens. needless to say that was a full time job. they had plenty of grass and weeds and trees and briers and blackberry bushes to eat if only they would stay inside their fence. but they figured the grass/trees/weeds/briers were always greener way over on the other side. i would always chase them back inside the fence and watch them for a bit to make sure they were staying put. i would no sooner turn my back and go back to riding my bike, or building my fort, or reading my book and i would hear one of my sisters yell "Mary the goats are out!"
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
the goats continued to be my nemesis until i graduated high school. on the day i left for college my daddy sold the goats......
after rex and i were married and we were building our fences and planning our farm i told my husband that i was up for raising any animal except goats. in fact i distinctly remember telling him that if he brought home goats i would divorce him that very day!
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
finally our fences were complete. six strands of tight barb wire. six feet high. perfect for keeping in horses, cows, sheep, llamas, whatever we decided to raise, our fence was ready to confine animals! i was so excited i couldn't wait to get started gathering animals and being a farmer's wife - tho in reality i would be doing most of the farming as my husband worked a 12 hr day, 5 days a week. i was pumped. i was excited. i was ready to get started on our new adventure!
my husband soon brought home .........ten goats!! TEN! (yes, i am still married to the man!) once the dust finally settled i had to admit that they were cute and pretty. and they seemed pretty innocent standing in the trailer looking at me with their big beautiful shining eyes. and our fence was way better built than the fence of my childhood. and the babies were really really cute and soft and our kids were already clamoring to keep them. and my husband kept saying," honey i got em for a really good deal"(those words should have sent off warning bells in my head because whenever my dad had gotten a really good deal on something the outcome was never good.......) the pleadings from my children proved to be too much to overcome and i caved. We put the goats out to pasture and they were soon very happily frolicking and playing and eating. life was good. until...... i went into the house to start supper and my children came running in yelling the dreaded words "the goats are out!!"
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
from that time forward every time i turned around the goats were out. the neighbors would call upset because the goats were in their yard eating their flowers. now mind you we had 8 acres of fenced in woods, creek, grass, weeds, briers, flowers, honeysuckle, leaves, acorns, anything a goat could imagine it wanted to eat was within those 8 fenced in acres. but if one of the goats caught a glimpse of something yummy 1/2 a mile away in the neighbors yard there they would all go lickety split. never paying my 6ft high, 6 tight strands of barbed wire fence a bit of attention. we added a couple of strands of electric to try and dissuade them. all to no avail. if a goat got it in its head it was going to go eat a twig in the neighbors yard it was going come hell or high water! i soon reached the conclusion that you just can't reason with a goat! and i've never met a goat that has proved me wrong!
have i mentioned that i hate goats? :-)
i spent my entire childhood chasing goats. Daddy kept a small herd of Nubian goats. there is almost nothing cuter than a baby Nubian goat. they have the longest softest ears. long eyelashes, sleepy eyes and twitching tails.
then they grow up......
to be honest the fence Daddy had built was not really goat worthy. (in Daddy's defense tho, he really didn't have much time to devote to building a proper fence. He worked 6 days a week from 9 until 6 or later at his Health Food Store) the fence was electric but the problem with electric fences and goats is if they get shocked the goat is going to keep going in the same direction it was headed when it got shocked. goats do not back up and retreat! goats are also very good jumpers. they can easily clear a 6 foot fence if they so desire. and if a goat has a desire to go nibble on a brier 3 counties away - it will go.... never mind what obstacle may be in the way....
but to continue.... i spent my entire childhood chasing goats. in the mornings before school it was my job to go feed and milk them with my dad. as i got older that job fell to me alone. after missing the bus several mornings due to the fact that i had to go find the goats first in order to get them into the barn to milk them i finally got smart and started penning them up at night. i would however let them out into the field to graze during the day once the milking was finished. i could always count on returning home from school to find them standing on the side of the road, or in the middle of the road, or in the driveway, or up on top of one of the many wrecked vehicles that lined the driveway . imagine my embarrassment to come home everyday on the bus to find the goats out. and of course everyday i had to hear "hey mary your goats are out" this would always be followed by hysterical laughter. i would cringe and slink off the bus trying to be invisible. the goats would run up to me baaaaaing their hellos.the bus would pull away and the laughter would echo and linger.....
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
i decided that in the mornings after milking i would leave the goats in the barn and once i got home from school i would let them out. well needless to say when Daddy discovered what i was doing i got in BIG trouble! the milk production dropped and i had no choice but to let them out again in the mornings. i begged and pleaded with the goats the whole time i was milking them. i begged them to just stay put in the field while i was away at school. i promised them all kinds of treats if only they would behave and be good goats. my begging and bribery seemed to work because that day the goats were not standing in the middle of the road, nor were they standing on the side of the road. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when a blur caught my eye. the goats had been laying in wait for the bus. here they all came flying down the bank and lickety split slid across the road in front of the bus. our poor bus driver let out a scream and slammed on the brakes. all the goats remained unscathed. i guess they thought it was great fun after that because invariably if they were not standing in plain sight i could count on them to come flying down the bank, slip and slid across the road in front of the bus and then with tails twitching they would sash shay on down the other bank to the barn.
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
in the summer it would be my job to watch them and make sure they stayed out of our gardens. needless to say that was a full time job. they had plenty of grass and weeds and trees and briers and blackberry bushes to eat if only they would stay inside their fence. but they figured the grass/trees/weeds/briers were always greener way over on the other side. i would always chase them back inside the fence and watch them for a bit to make sure they were staying put. i would no sooner turn my back and go back to riding my bike, or building my fort, or reading my book and i would hear one of my sisters yell "Mary the goats are out!"
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
the goats continued to be my nemesis until i graduated high school. on the day i left for college my daddy sold the goats......
after rex and i were married and we were building our fences and planning our farm i told my husband that i was up for raising any animal except goats. in fact i distinctly remember telling him that if he brought home goats i would divorce him that very day!
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
finally our fences were complete. six strands of tight barb wire. six feet high. perfect for keeping in horses, cows, sheep, llamas, whatever we decided to raise, our fence was ready to confine animals! i was so excited i couldn't wait to get started gathering animals and being a farmer's wife - tho in reality i would be doing most of the farming as my husband worked a 12 hr day, 5 days a week. i was pumped. i was excited. i was ready to get started on our new adventure!
my husband soon brought home .........ten goats!! TEN! (yes, i am still married to the man!) once the dust finally settled i had to admit that they were cute and pretty. and they seemed pretty innocent standing in the trailer looking at me with their big beautiful shining eyes. and our fence was way better built than the fence of my childhood. and the babies were really really cute and soft and our kids were already clamoring to keep them. and my husband kept saying," honey i got em for a really good deal"(those words should have sent off warning bells in my head because whenever my dad had gotten a really good deal on something the outcome was never good.......) the pleadings from my children proved to be too much to overcome and i caved. We put the goats out to pasture and they were soon very happily frolicking and playing and eating. life was good. until...... i went into the house to start supper and my children came running in yelling the dreaded words "the goats are out!!"
have i mentioned that i hate goats?
from that time forward every time i turned around the goats were out. the neighbors would call upset because the goats were in their yard eating their flowers. now mind you we had 8 acres of fenced in woods, creek, grass, weeds, briers, flowers, honeysuckle, leaves, acorns, anything a goat could imagine it wanted to eat was within those 8 fenced in acres. but if one of the goats caught a glimpse of something yummy 1/2 a mile away in the neighbors yard there they would all go lickety split. never paying my 6ft high, 6 tight strands of barbed wire fence a bit of attention. we added a couple of strands of electric to try and dissuade them. all to no avail. if a goat got it in its head it was going to go eat a twig in the neighbors yard it was going come hell or high water! i soon reached the conclusion that you just can't reason with a goat! and i've never met a goat that has proved me wrong!
have i mentioned that i hate goats? :-)
learning to let go
i'll admit it. i have a hard time letting go. i feel like i have to be in control. i need to be in control. letting go has never been easy for me. whether it be letting go of past hurts, grudges, disappointments, anger, animosity, or other people..... letting go is a challenge for me.
as i near another birthday i find myself reflecting more and more on the changes in my life, the things that still need to change, and the things that can't change that i just need to deal with or let go.
i can't change the fact that i did things while growing up that hurt or disappointed my dad. i can't change the fact that i didnt tell him how much i loved him and how thankful i was for the way he raised me and the sacrifices he willing endured for my benefit and well being. i cant seem to let go of the case of the "should've's" that i have. but at the same time i know it's not healthy for me to hang on to that feeling. i am slowing learning to change my thinking that when a "should have" memory comes along i try to replace it with an " i did do this..." memory. its not easy and 2 1/2 years later i still struggle......
i have a hard time letting go of my children as they get older and go off to college. i want to be there with them saying do this, no don't do that. i want to keep them from making the mistakes i did. i want things to be perfect for them so they dont have to suffer hurts or disappointments like i did i want to make sure they are making healthy choices. that they are getting enough sleep at night. that they are studying and doing their homework. but i know i cant be there to hold their hand 24/7. i know that in order for them to grow that they are going to have to make mistakes and hopefully learn from them. to become functioning adults in society they are going to have to learn to manage their time and money wisely. i have to learn to trust that we raised them to know right from wrong and to know the advantages of making good healthy decisions and to be self-sufficient. but still my mother's heart aches when a choice they made comes back and hurts them. i struggle to not hold them too close, to let them be free and fly and soar......
letting go is not my forte. but in order to grow i have to let go. i have to let go of everything that is holding me back from becoming the person God intended for me to be. i am getting better but im not there yet.......
as i near another birthday i find myself reflecting more and more on the changes in my life, the things that still need to change, and the things that can't change that i just need to deal with or let go.
i can't change the fact that i did things while growing up that hurt or disappointed my dad. i can't change the fact that i didnt tell him how much i loved him and how thankful i was for the way he raised me and the sacrifices he willing endured for my benefit and well being. i cant seem to let go of the case of the "should've's" that i have. but at the same time i know it's not healthy for me to hang on to that feeling. i am slowing learning to change my thinking that when a "should have" memory comes along i try to replace it with an " i did do this..." memory. its not easy and 2 1/2 years later i still struggle......
i have a hard time letting go of my children as they get older and go off to college. i want to be there with them saying do this, no don't do that. i want to keep them from making the mistakes i did. i want things to be perfect for them so they dont have to suffer hurts or disappointments like i did i want to make sure they are making healthy choices. that they are getting enough sleep at night. that they are studying and doing their homework. but i know i cant be there to hold their hand 24/7. i know that in order for them to grow that they are going to have to make mistakes and hopefully learn from them. to become functioning adults in society they are going to have to learn to manage their time and money wisely. i have to learn to trust that we raised them to know right from wrong and to know the advantages of making good healthy decisions and to be self-sufficient. but still my mother's heart aches when a choice they made comes back and hurts them. i struggle to not hold them too close, to let them be free and fly and soar......
letting go is not my forte. but in order to grow i have to let go. i have to let go of everything that is holding me back from becoming the person God intended for me to be. i am getting better but im not there yet.......
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
cold showers
it happened again. i got a cold shower. i really wanted a hot one but i got a cold one instead. why is it that i always get the cold shower? in the rush of Sunday morning trying to get everyone (here the term everyone includes myself, my husband, 2 teenage girls, 2 teenage boys, a 21year old boy, a 10 year old girl, an 11 year old boy, and an 8 year old boy, plus various friends who have spent the night - never less than two!) ready for the early Mass i am usually the last one in the shower. i get up plenty early. i should take it then, but i don't because i don't want to wake up my sleeping husband. i slip quietly out of the room and start the coffee. i step out onto the porch to enjoy the beautiful morning and thank God for the stillness and quiet beauty of the mountains. i go down to the basement to start a load of laundry. i go back to the kitchen where i unload the dishwasher. Yea! the coffee is done! i pour a cup to sip as i start ironing church clothes. one shirt done, skirt done, pants done, oh wait those have a stain, i go get another pair from the closet. iron those, then a dress. Oh - time to make the rounds and wake everyone up. upstairs i go, knocking on doors, opening doors saying Morning Sunshines and time to rise and shine. i am greeted by groans and covers pulled back over the heads. my little girl is the only one who bounces out of bed with a "morning momma!" back downstairs, i pour another cup of coffee and take it to my husband. back to iron another shirt. back upstairs saying a little more forcefully Get up, get UP, its getting Late. a few feet hit the floor. a few more covers get pulled over the heads. one shower starts. back downstairs. finished the ironing. another shower starts. come on boys wake up. eat something before church. go get dressed. "hey mom can you iron this instead?" "we are out of milk". "no we aren't sweetie, there is more downstairs go get it". "oh mom i have to go all the way down there?" "yes dear if you want milk for your cereal you do!" "nah i don't want cereal will you fix me eggs instead?" short answer no. back to the bedroom to make sure my husband is up. yep he is and in the shower. back upstairs to pull the covers off the teenage heads. lets go, get dressed, we are leaving in 40 mins. back downstairs. i really need a shower. nope my husband is still in the bathroom. ok back to the kitchen, no wait laundry, downstairs to put the load in the dryer and another in the wash. "MOM we are OUT of towels!" i sigh and pick up the basket of fresh from the dryer towels. hhhhhmmmm nice and warm and soft. perfect for drying off after a shower. upstairs i go. hey thanks mom. another shower starts. no you cant wear that to church, its too short. well you ironed it mom. yeah well i didn't know it no longer fit you! go change. but i don't have time to change i have to wash my hair. GO CHANGE! okay okay but can you iron something else for me? I have to go wash my hair. sigh - sure bring it here. Its getting late, maybe i can pop in the shower real quick - nope my shower still isn't free. ok - this time i holler up the steps - GET UP we are leaving in 25 and we will NOT be late! more feet hit the floor and i hear showers start. "MOM i cant find my shoes!" look under your bed, in your closet, in the car, look anywhere but where they are SUPPOSED to be. no you cannot wear those brown shoes with your black pants. wait - how did those pants get so short?? ugh - go get another pair and let me iron them. hurry hurry hurry. "I SAID GET DRESSED!" 20 mins to walking out the door. gotta take a shower NOW! turn the water on, jump in and ya-whee!! ITS COLD! if i wasn't awake before i am now! its a quickie. teeth chattering i jump out. shoot i didn't bring a fresh towel. i dry off with the damp one my husband used. gel in the hair, teeth brushed, swish the mascara wand, throw on a dress, grab my shoes, im ready. lets go, lets go, who is driving? no you don't need to drive too, there is no sense in taking 3 cars to church. squeeze in with your brother. "lets GO!" " im coming im coming," "mom i cant find my other shoe!" "then wear a different pair". "but i want to wear these sandals". "come on lets GO!" out the door. everyone in the car, last check make sure no one is left behind...........
i have to admit - i'm grumpy on the drive to church. i'm frustrated that i have to stay on to everyone constantly to get up and get ready. shouldn't they be eager to go to church and get themselves up and ready without me having to harass them? iron their own clothes? Since i'm the one that takes the least amount of time to get ready shouldn't i at least be able to get a hot shower? i know i could and should do the ironing the night before - and sometimes a miracle happens and stars align and i do get it done the night before but i'll admit its rare. (Saturday's hold their own sort of chaos.) i could take my shower saturday night. sometimes the stars align and miracles happen and i do. but more often than not - its cold then too!
we get to church and i'm still grumpy. i go straight into our pew and kneel to pray. "Lord help me to not have a grumpy heart" my children one by one file into the pew. i keep shifting and sliding to make room. the last one finally squeezes in. its hot in church and we are stuffed like sardines in a can. i look at our overflowing pew and peace fills my heart. it was an effort to get everyone up and motivated to get to church on time. but as i look at the shining clean faces, catch an eye or two and get a smile, peace of heart returns. (and as the temperature climbs in church i am suddenly thankful that everyone got a shower!) i realize that in return for taking a cold shower i got all my children and their friends to church to give honor and glory to our God. i wouldn't trade that feeling for all the warm showers in the world!
i have to admit - i'm grumpy on the drive to church. i'm frustrated that i have to stay on to everyone constantly to get up and get ready. shouldn't they be eager to go to church and get themselves up and ready without me having to harass them? iron their own clothes? Since i'm the one that takes the least amount of time to get ready shouldn't i at least be able to get a hot shower? i know i could and should do the ironing the night before - and sometimes a miracle happens and stars align and i do get it done the night before but i'll admit its rare. (Saturday's hold their own sort of chaos.) i could take my shower saturday night. sometimes the stars align and miracles happen and i do. but more often than not - its cold then too!
we get to church and i'm still grumpy. i go straight into our pew and kneel to pray. "Lord help me to not have a grumpy heart" my children one by one file into the pew. i keep shifting and sliding to make room. the last one finally squeezes in. its hot in church and we are stuffed like sardines in a can. i look at our overflowing pew and peace fills my heart. it was an effort to get everyone up and motivated to get to church on time. but as i look at the shining clean faces, catch an eye or two and get a smile, peace of heart returns. (and as the temperature climbs in church i am suddenly thankful that everyone got a shower!) i realize that in return for taking a cold shower i got all my children and their friends to church to give honor and glory to our God. i wouldn't trade that feeling for all the warm showers in the world!
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Mothers
What makes a mother? Well the obvious answer is a girl that's had a baby. but that's not all it takes........
It was with some trepidation and dread that i approached mother's day this year. I've been having a really hard time this year with missing my dad. the second year is harder than the first for me. the grief is still deep and fresh, yet because "enough time has passed" society is no longer accepting of the breakdowns that still threaten so i put on a brave, stone, smiley face and i push the grief back down. somehow i push on doing my duties and holding the grief at bay. i often wondered why losing my father has been so hard for me to bear. it finally hit me that when i lost him, i really lost both my mom and my dad. from the time i was 7, my daddy was the only parent i had. he was both mother and father. he was the recipient of all the mothers' day cards i made every year in elementary school. he was the one who taught me to bake bread, grow a garden, count back change, milk a goat, process a chicken, can, make jelly. he was the one who signed all my papers and report cards and permission slips. he sat with me doing homework. gave me medicine when i was sick. took me on hikes, came to as many of my ball games, school events as he could. disciplined me, taught me how to change a tire and the oil in a car. he taught me to pray. he took me to church. he taught me the value of hard honest work. all the good and useful things i know how to do i learned from my dad. he was the one constant, unchanging thing in my life, my anchor. i learned so much from him, but i didn't learn how to be a mother.......
I always said i would NEVER have children! never say never cause God has a tremendous sense of humor! i am a mother to 10 beautiful, smart, crazy, hardworking, loving, frustrating, forgiving, happy, unique, amazing souls.
So what does it take to be a mother? what fine line separates the "good" from the "bad"? if one grows up with a "bad" or absent mother does that mean they are doomed to repeat the cycle? is the ability to be a "good" mother already imprinted on our DNA from birth? these are questions i don't know the answers too...... but this is what i do know from experience......
Being a mother is hard work. it is often a thankless dirty stinky job. in the wee hours of the morning pacing the floor while holding a screaming baby that nothing will pacify can often drive a "good" mother to think the unthinkable. it is a demanding sometimes unrewarding job. we get doors slammed in our faces. we get the silent treatment. we get yelled at for not understanding. we get the eye roll. unreasonable demands are placed upon our bodies and our time. being a mother means sleepless nights and worried frowns and countless tears. why would anyone in their "right mind" choose to be a mother? its no wonder some mothers choose to walk away.
Being a mother is an absolute joy! the first smiles and coo's. all the first milestones. the hugs and fistfuls of grass and dandelions. the thank yous and i love yous. the times my kids choose to hang out with me. the feeling of pride that wells in my heart as i watch my children succeed. being a mother means giving until i feel empty and then finding myself refilled to overflowing. its shared ice cream cones and snuggles on the couch. its private jokes and laughter and silliness. its cheering until my voice is gone at sporting events. its celebrating their achievements and drying their tears. being a mother means that i have shared in creating miracles. being a mother is my greatest accomplishment.
I'm not perfect. i make mistakes. i say things i shouldn't to my children. I'm impatient. i lose my temper. there are days when i know i have been a totally "bad" mom. there are days I'd give a kings ransom for some "me" time. but those moments thankfully are few and far between. i love being a mom. i guess for me its just been a learning process. i have learned that i am going to mess up and i am going to make mistakes. that there is no such thing as a perfect "good" mom all the time. there are going to be days when i am that "bad" mom. I've learned to not expect so much of myself or others. I've learned the value of saying I'm sorry. I've learned the value of counting to ten and walking away. I've learned that i am both a "good" and "bad"mom. I've learned that children are resilient and very forgiving. I've learned that each day with my children is a new beginning, a building block, a stepping stone, a bridge, a blessing. and I'm thankful God has a sense of humor!
It was with some trepidation and dread that i approached mother's day this year. I've been having a really hard time this year with missing my dad. the second year is harder than the first for me. the grief is still deep and fresh, yet because "enough time has passed" society is no longer accepting of the breakdowns that still threaten so i put on a brave, stone, smiley face and i push the grief back down. somehow i push on doing my duties and holding the grief at bay. i often wondered why losing my father has been so hard for me to bear. it finally hit me that when i lost him, i really lost both my mom and my dad. from the time i was 7, my daddy was the only parent i had. he was both mother and father. he was the recipient of all the mothers' day cards i made every year in elementary school. he was the one who taught me to bake bread, grow a garden, count back change, milk a goat, process a chicken, can, make jelly. he was the one who signed all my papers and report cards and permission slips. he sat with me doing homework. gave me medicine when i was sick. took me on hikes, came to as many of my ball games, school events as he could. disciplined me, taught me how to change a tire and the oil in a car. he taught me to pray. he took me to church. he taught me the value of hard honest work. all the good and useful things i know how to do i learned from my dad. he was the one constant, unchanging thing in my life, my anchor. i learned so much from him, but i didn't learn how to be a mother.......
I always said i would NEVER have children! never say never cause God has a tremendous sense of humor! i am a mother to 10 beautiful, smart, crazy, hardworking, loving, frustrating, forgiving, happy, unique, amazing souls.
So what does it take to be a mother? what fine line separates the "good" from the "bad"? if one grows up with a "bad" or absent mother does that mean they are doomed to repeat the cycle? is the ability to be a "good" mother already imprinted on our DNA from birth? these are questions i don't know the answers too...... but this is what i do know from experience......
Being a mother is hard work. it is often a thankless dirty stinky job. in the wee hours of the morning pacing the floor while holding a screaming baby that nothing will pacify can often drive a "good" mother to think the unthinkable. it is a demanding sometimes unrewarding job. we get doors slammed in our faces. we get the silent treatment. we get yelled at for not understanding. we get the eye roll. unreasonable demands are placed upon our bodies and our time. being a mother means sleepless nights and worried frowns and countless tears. why would anyone in their "right mind" choose to be a mother? its no wonder some mothers choose to walk away.
Being a mother is an absolute joy! the first smiles and coo's. all the first milestones. the hugs and fistfuls of grass and dandelions. the thank yous and i love yous. the times my kids choose to hang out with me. the feeling of pride that wells in my heart as i watch my children succeed. being a mother means giving until i feel empty and then finding myself refilled to overflowing. its shared ice cream cones and snuggles on the couch. its private jokes and laughter and silliness. its cheering until my voice is gone at sporting events. its celebrating their achievements and drying their tears. being a mother means that i have shared in creating miracles. being a mother is my greatest accomplishment.
I'm not perfect. i make mistakes. i say things i shouldn't to my children. I'm impatient. i lose my temper. there are days when i know i have been a totally "bad" mom. there are days I'd give a kings ransom for some "me" time. but those moments thankfully are few and far between. i love being a mom. i guess for me its just been a learning process. i have learned that i am going to mess up and i am going to make mistakes. that there is no such thing as a perfect "good" mom all the time. there are going to be days when i am that "bad" mom. I've learned to not expect so much of myself or others. I've learned the value of saying I'm sorry. I've learned the value of counting to ten and walking away. I've learned that i am both a "good" and "bad"mom. I've learned that children are resilient and very forgiving. I've learned that each day with my children is a new beginning, a building block, a stepping stone, a bridge, a blessing. and I'm thankful God has a sense of humor!
Monday, April 25, 2011
counting blessings
sometimes at the end of the day i am so tired that i neglect to count my blessings. sometimes when i wake up in the morning and my feet hit the floor running i neglect to count my blessings. sometimes as i am at work and all the phones are ringing, and children are sick and crying, and the copier wont copy, and someone needs ice or a band aide and i am doing the gotta go to the bathroom now dance i forget to count my blessings. sometimes as i dash from one job straight into the next and then rush to drop one child off at a field for practice, stop and pick up another child from the gym, spend a few minutes sweeping a floor or taking out the trash, then rush back down to the ball fields yet again to drop off and pick up i forget to count my blessings. when i go home to a dirty kitchen and laundry to wash, fold and put away, supper to cook, homework ranging from the elementary to the high school level, a husband that needs attention, clothes to iron, floors to sweep, baths to take, dogs to feed, farm chores to do and decent bedtime hours to observe i forget to count my blessings.
but if in the midst of the chaos that is my life - raising 10 kids, working two full time jobs, a husband, a farm, dogs, and chickens, church events, sporting events, social events, school events - if i would just remember to stop and breathe and count my blessings i know that i would rediscover that it really is the small things like an unexpected hug or smile. a student bringing in a small treat just because. a husband that got up and made the coffee that morning. a teenage son that leans in to kiss my cheek and tell me goodbye even tho his buddies are present and watching. a fistful of flowers and grass stuffed overflowing into a vase on the kitchen table when i get home. the sharing of another's burden to lighten their load a bit. a 5th grader who comes up to my office just to say hello in the middle of the day. the excited waves in the cafeteria from my elementary kids and their friends. a friend that feels safe pouring out her heartache to me. my adult children coming home for the holidays. an unexpected cup of coffee brought by a friend to cheer my day. a simple thank you. a compliment. a shared laugh. its the small maybe not so obvious blessings that really change the day. i must remember to remember to count the little, the big, the obvious, the obtuse, and especially those in disguise blessings in my life.
and i have SO MANY blessings in my life. countless. wonderful. incredible. empowering. beautiful. hilarious. humbling. a multitude. everyday if i stopped long enough to count them - which i never seem to have the time to do - i could spend all day counting and get nothing else done!
so i resolve to live each day if not actively counting my blessings at least being consciously grateful for them.all the things that make my days crazy, unique and chaotic - i will count them as blessings. and thank God for them ALL!
but if in the midst of the chaos that is my life - raising 10 kids, working two full time jobs, a husband, a farm, dogs, and chickens, church events, sporting events, social events, school events - if i would just remember to stop and breathe and count my blessings i know that i would rediscover that it really is the small things like an unexpected hug or smile. a student bringing in a small treat just because. a husband that got up and made the coffee that morning. a teenage son that leans in to kiss my cheek and tell me goodbye even tho his buddies are present and watching. a fistful of flowers and grass stuffed overflowing into a vase on the kitchen table when i get home. the sharing of another's burden to lighten their load a bit. a 5th grader who comes up to my office just to say hello in the middle of the day. the excited waves in the cafeteria from my elementary kids and their friends. a friend that feels safe pouring out her heartache to me. my adult children coming home for the holidays. an unexpected cup of coffee brought by a friend to cheer my day. a simple thank you. a compliment. a shared laugh. its the small maybe not so obvious blessings that really change the day. i must remember to remember to count the little, the big, the obvious, the obtuse, and especially those in disguise blessings in my life.
and i have SO MANY blessings in my life. countless. wonderful. incredible. empowering. beautiful. hilarious. humbling. a multitude. everyday if i stopped long enough to count them - which i never seem to have the time to do - i could spend all day counting and get nothing else done!
so i resolve to live each day if not actively counting my blessings at least being consciously grateful for them.all the things that make my days crazy, unique and chaotic - i will count them as blessings. and thank God for them ALL!
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