Technically Jesus

My body has been going through some changes lately; hormonal changes. Though I'm not in menopause yet, I'm in peri-menopause, which in my opinion, is worse than menopause, because you suffer all the side effects of menopause but you still have to deal with your period. (Sorry, male readers.) Peri-menopause and "life" just doesn't go together.

The joys of per-menopause screw with your sanity and emotions, making you feel like some days you are literally going crazy. And I do mean literally. Sometimes I  feel angry but I have no idea why. I'm just angry.. I'm angry at the world. Those days I try to hide.

And sometimes I'm sad but again, I have no idea why. I'm just sad. I'm weepy. I'm angry and sad. Those days I try to hide too. Those that seek me out are warned they don't want to deal with me, but they whine at my door anyway (obviously talking about my kids here.)

Today was one of those days. Angry. Sad. Angry. Sad. The weather did not help. It rained all day. At first, I liked it, it was kind of peaceful. But then it began to feel a little crowded in here with all the kids home on their first day of summer vacation (ok, it's Saturday so they would've been home anyway, but for kids, the first day of summer vacation doesn't matter what day it's on!) And then Otis the dog came to be boarded for the week, along with Baby Ruth (also a dog, not an actual baby) and things really began to feel crowded. I had to do the whole switching dogs out thing and walking in the rain again.

I decided to run to the store and pick up and umbrella so I wouldn't have to get soaked every time I took the dogs for a walk. I picked up a few other things and then went home, only to realize the lady never put the umbrella into the bag. So I had to go back to the store and get the umbrella and then just as I opened the umbrealla to take the dogs for their walk, the rain subsided and the sun began to shine. For real!!

And then my phone began to malfunction. Oh, my hopeless phone, which has been dropped at least five times and has cracks all over the screen, to the point that I can now see wires. I forget sometimes that I no longer bring it out when it's raining, and it began to malfunction all day. It looked like it was possessed by a phone addicted demon; different apps would open and close. Some apps I didn't even know I had would suddenly pop on and then pop off. Every time I tried to use the phone for email or messaging or calling, it would fly apps all over the place or else turn on the key board and start typing all sorts of crazy things (thankfully it never hit "send"). Dennis and I talked about getting me a new phone but now it was imperative. So he told me that I should start shopping for phones and let him know which one I would like. After looking through many phones and finding one that didn't seem too expensive and still had great reviews, I copied and pasted it to my email....and just as I was about to send it to Dennis, the phone suddenly hit "delete"!!

This was the last straw. I threw the phone as hard as I could and it shattered. I am now officially phoneless. Yes, I regret it but at the same time, I don't. It had to be finished off.

At the same time, I knew I had to get myself under control somehow. I was snapping at the kids, grumpy with the dogs, and kenneled them more than usual to try to get some breaks, but nothing seemed to be helping my mood. I was just frustrated because nothing seemed to be going right.

And then, I have no idea why or what prompted me to do this, but I suddenly remembered that some chapels put adoration online and live for people across the world. I logged on and instantly, there was Jesus--in "real time" with the candles flickering, showing me that I was indeed looking at Him in real time, not just a still picture.

At first I felt a little awkward about it but then figured, that people skype all the time, so why not with Jesus? I sat at the table talking to Jesus through the computer and it was as though I were talking with Him the way I do when I see Him in adoration at my own church. And almost instantaneously, the anger and frustration melted away. I felt peace in my heart for the first time all day.

I kept the screen up for a while so that I could "tune in" whenever I was beginning to feel testy again. When I had to close the laptop for a while, I would just open it to see if Jesus was still there in the Blessed Sacrament, and yep, there He was.

I truly hate technology with malfunctioning phones and everything, but I'm glad that we've learned to use it to our advantage too, for the times when we feel we're going a little bit crazy. I bet whoever thought up this idea of putting adoration up "live" for anyone to see would be happy to hear that a hormonal and frustrated mother found solace in finding Jesus in technology.

No happy ending--yet

Warning: there's no happy ending to this story. Maybe there will be eventually. Or maybe we will just chalk it up to "one of those things that happen." The explanation we use when things don't make sense.

Yesterday I had to bring Max to his light therapy (therapy that is used to treat psoriasis) and on the way in, the dr called. I left Luke in the car (his own choice) and had Anna and Henry come in with me. I had agreed to wait downstairs in the lobby while Max practiced doing his therapy on his own. He wanted to do this and any time he wants to practice some independence, I'm all for it (within reason, of course.) So while I'm on the phone talking to the doctor, we were downstairs waiting for Max. It took about ten minutes for him to finish (it is a super short treatment) so we left. Once we got in the car, I couldn't find my keys. I looked in my purse, I dumped my purse, asked Luke if he had the keys (he didn't) and then went in the drs office to see if I left them in the lobby, which I didn't. It was like they disappeared into thin air.

Long story short, we were there for an hour looking for my keys. Four kids and two dogs (why do we always bring the dogs everywhere??) I looked on the walkway up to the office, in the parking lot, in the car, under the car, in the grass and the rock pile. I searched the building over and over, looked in the lost and found and went over to the hospitals lost and found (I was told to give it a try in case someone dropped it off over there). I have no idea how keys could disappear in such a short time.

It was frustrating, that's for sure. Everything was frustrating. Anna and Henry kept leaving the car without permission and then I would have to stop my search to look for them. Every time someone opened the doors, the dogs would try to jump out. I couldn't leave the kids in the car for long periods of time because we only had one window open (thankfully I at least had one opened) and without the keys, we couldn't open more. Even the wind was working against me, it tried to blow the doors shut as I was looking under the seats, or got my hair in my face when I was looking under the car.

And on top of all that, I had to pick up Lucy from rehearsal (she is part of the crew) and had no way of getting her. I had to call Dennis for help and of course, he wasn't happy about the situation and having to leave work early. But what can you do??

He stayed and looked while I brought the kids home and then went to get Lucy. I came back to get Dennis and the dogs (poor dogs, stuck in the car for two hours with no way to get out since we didn't have leashes) and he still hadn't found them.

I told Lucy on the way over to get Dennis, that the devil took the keys. Of course, she thought that was funny. She thought I was kidding. But really I wasn't. I've had things disappear on me before, literally just vanish and then later, show up in the oddest places that make no sense. And when things disappear, everyone gets upset.

Maybe I'm wrong, I don't know. But so much chaos and discord comes about when these things happen.

We were forced to leave the van in the parking lot, not really sure if we would find it again in the morning or if it would towed away. I wanted to leave a note for the security guard about what happened so he might take pity on us, but Dennis didn't think it would do much good.

In the meantime, the keys are still missing. The frustrating thing about this is that another copy can't be made. It was made with a computer chip inside. Why does everything have to be so technical these days?!?! Even keys!

So Dennis is calling the dealership to see if another can be made. For whatever reason he has, he doesn't think it is possible. He does tend to be a half-glass empty sort of person, and I'm hoping that this is the case. I mean, it's keys for crying out loud.

If another copy can be made, we will have to get the van towed to the dealership, where they can get the correct computer chip set directly to the car. If it's at the impound, we will have to pay more money to get it out.

And worst case scenario, if we can't get another copy for the key, we will have to sell the van for scraps. Again, Dennis's grim prediction which I hope is just due to his half-glass empty perspective.

There was a lot of tension in the air last night. I was upset for many different reasons; Dennis was upset with just one. For me, it was the entire frustrating situation, the lack of obedience from the kids, and the frustration I felt from Dennis. But more than anything, it's that I was the one that lost the keys. I'm the one that has caused all these problems. It is just hard to be the one responsible for all of this.

And of course, we prayed to find the keys. But they weren't found. It's times like this that I can't help questioning God why. Why wouldn't he let us find them? Why let us go through so much trouble and get angry and upset? It's not like I'm asking a cure for cancer. I just want to find my keys.

But maybe Lucy said it best when she sounded a little older than her 12 years when she prayed in her prayers last night, that "you will help us figure out what to do, and all we need to do is trust you."

Sort of humbling to hear your kid be the voice of reason.

So I'm off to cram in whoever I can in the truck (I will be forced to leave the older kids behind) to see if the van is still there or if anyone has turned in some keys. Pray that they will. And if they don't show up, pray that we will be patient with each other in moments that we have no control over.

Spiritual warfare

I've been off of Facebook for almost a week--with the exception of popping on here or there to check on my dog training FB page for any messengers (doesn't happen very often but I check anyway.) It's interesting to me what happens when I take these Facebook breaks. It's almost as though I begin to wake up from something, like I've been asleep. I begin to see things that I didn't notice before.

Another thing is that I go through what I think is spiritual warfare. This isn't a topic that I talk about often as I don't know much about it--but I believe happens to us more than we are aware. Every time I get off of Facebook, a lot of bad things happen. External suffering, like fights in the family, or misunderstandings with friends or elsewhere. Or sometimes internal suffering, and a lot of it. Yes, bad things really come up when I try to get away from Facebook. It's a wonder I don't just stay on.

But at the same time, when I get off of Facebook, some good things happen as well--otherwise, I don't think I would have the courage to stay off of it, with all the struggles that come with trying to make a change in my life. God seems closer, for one. Spiritual favors, as in more insights, and clarity about things in my own life that I need to work on. As though God takes his thumb and wipes away some dirty in my soul to show me the beauty that is hiding underneath, if only I would put the attention and focus in this area of my life.

It's a painful time as well. When you discover new things about yourself--or go deeper into old things that you tried to ignore, it is painful to understand some of these old wounds or weaknesses. God shows me things that have been holding me back. He challenges me to go deeper and be more "real" with Him, get down to business about my vocation and to take it more seriously. It is heavy stuff, these Facebook breaks!

And yet, even with all the increased sufferings and drama, I rather be here suffering through it, then there, with people who don't even realize I have left Facebook. I rather suffer with God than without Him. At least I know this suffering is for my own good. At least I know it's bringing me closer to Him, than away from Him.

I have more time on my hands, that's for sure. I can get more work done. Not too crazy about that. I have more prayer time. I usually pray while I work, and it goes a little bit better.

I am a little more bored; life slows down a little without social media. It gets a little lonely sometimes, without someone to "talk" to, although, I can't say I've really talked to anyone on Facebook, except for a few comments here or there.

I read more. I take more naps, which is nice. I try not to over do it with naps, but it's nice to get in when I need it. The kids find me off of my Chromebook more often. Overall, it's good.

But spiritual warfare. It is there. The devil doesn't like it when you try to make a change for the better in your life or when you think about doing something that is good for your soul. He doesn't want you to be close to God. So all he does is throw distractions at you all day, every day. He reminds you of the boredom. He reminds you of your loneliness. He makes you worry that you will be come too ingrown, that your social media is all you have left. He makes you worry you will be forgotten.

But God supplies you the grace to endure it all, reminds you of His presence, reminds you that He is all you really need to be happy. Takes up that empty space, fills up that boredom with things that you can do for others. Reminds you that you can have a prayer life now. Shows you the people next to you. Helps you realize that you can now listen to tidbit news from your neighbors, or stories from your kids, instead of whatever is trending on Facebook.

Probably more than anything, that He gives you what you were looking for all along--recognition. Not from others, but from Him. That He sees you in a way others don't and probably never will. That He has answered your prayers for a nice day, and you actually had one. That He wants to hear all about your troubles and misunderstandings, when everyone else could care less. And suddenly you feel like you have gotten something back that you left behind long ago:  a good friend.

So bring on the spiritual warfare. It is worth it for a deeper friendship with God.

Last ones to start

The kids (finally) start school tomorrow. They are the last school to start, as most schools have started either last week or the week before. The kids are ready but they are nervous.

If you can remember, can you say a prayer for the kids tomorrow? Each one of them will be "the new kid." That is a lot of stress on a mom's heart. And then you've got the empty nest, not ready for this! I will go home from dropping the kids off and the house will be quiet and empty. I know that sounds like a dream to most people, and maybe in time I will appreciate it but for now, it makes me sad.

And pray for Luke. He is so nervous. His tic has come back and is nearly constant again. We have been expecting this but still, it's hard to hear. He keeps saying he's "worried" or nervous. I wish I could calm his fears but I can't.

Actually, I have found a way. The other day when I was at adoration, a woman gave me a little pamphlet about calling on the name of Mary. And so we have been calling her name all day. I've tried to encourage the kids to adopt this practice and make it into a habit....it's said that the very name of Mary chases demons away.

Luke asked me what Mary has no idea which "Mary" he's calling on. :-)  I told him that just like a kid shouts his mother's name in a crowd of people, and half of those people turn their head (because many are mothers as well), only one mother recognizes the voice of her child. I take comfort in this in Mary's role with us. I told Luke: you are her child and so she responds immediately.

So we will continue to call on the name of Mary and you can please also call on her too, for Luke and all the kids. They are all a little nervous--excited too--but nervous. Let it be an easy year for once. No drama, no regression, no sicknesses.

Learning perseverance, a personal lesson from a famous gymnast

Today we had the opportunity to meet the famous Gold Medalist Gabby Douglas. Oh, that was fun!

I try hard to steer my kids away from pop stars and famous people in general. I don't allow the kids to have posters of them in their room--not because I think they are bad or anything, but mainly, because it's so easy to idolize them for their looks, fame and money. And pretty soon, our lives seem to pale in comparison. It's easy to get off-track about what our life really is--and life is hard enough without getting caught up in superficial things.

But when it comes to Olympic Athletes, that's another story. These athletes have set a goal and worked hard all their life to get it. Their lives tell a story about working hard to get what you want. And my kids need these inspirations.

Now true, we can get this from the saints as well, and I do use the Saints as examples. But having a real life example who happens to be in your neck of the woods is too hard to pass up!

Meeting Gabby Douglas gave me a chance to tell the kids the little bit that I have heard about her. That she was an energetic child and was put in gymnastics to help burn off a little bit of her energy, only to discover that she had amazing talent. That she had a dream to get to the Olympics one day and had to work really hard to achieve that dream.

One thing I've noticed about my kids--they are all afraid of failure! I guess this is normal human fear, and I also have been afraid of failure. But the anxiety that I see from them over the possibility of failing is worrisome. Sometimes when they do fail at something, I'm actually glad. Because now that gives us the opportunity to work on learning to try again!

Gabby Douglas signing Anna's gymnastics uniform

I suppose that sounds weird to hear that I want my kids to fail once in a while. It's weird to write it too. But I think there's nothing worse than not trying because you're afraid of failing. And nothing more inspiring and rewarding to achieve something that you worked hard on. Not because you're good at it, but because you kept trying! That's inspiring to me.

(Worth watching! A cool video on Gabby Douglas "failures")



So yes, I use whoever and whatever I can to inspire my kids to keep trying. I don't mind them putting a poster up of someone who worked hard for something. Saints and athletes, that's what graces my walls.

Anna is in gymnastics and Lucy's in ice skating. Both are pretty good at what they do, but they're finding out the higher you go, the harder it becomes! The skills get harder, the hours get longer, the coaches get tougher. They expect more out of you and push you to do your best. That's good for the kids and they feel so good about themselves when they finally master something that was really hard for them to do.

Last week, Anna's coach couldn't pass her because Anna didn't master her Bridge Kick-overs. But, she gave Anna another chance: if she practiced all week and got that mastered, then she could move on to the next level.

Anna practiced for maybe a day. That skill did not get mastered.

And then, she met Gabby Douglas today! She had no idea who she was until I told her, and she was inspired enough to try harder with her Bridge Kick-overs. And she did it!



You see, this is all I want the kids to learn! To just keep trying. I don't care if they succeed the first time or maybe not at all. I just want them to try.

I've never been good at school. I remember in high school vividly studying tests and still getting D's. It was really hard on my self-esteem and I wondered why I was so stupid.

Now in my adult years, I can see that those tough times taught me about endurance and trying again and again. There were times that I didn't succeed but I couldn't fault myself for not at least trying. And I knew that if I ever had kids, that besides our Faith, that would be the one thing I would want them to learn: to not get tripped up on their ego and be afraid to try again.

Lucy's prayer tonight warmed my heart: "I want to be like Gabby Douglas and work hard on what I want. Except I don't want to be a gymnast, I want to be an ice skater."

Whatever she wants! Just so long as she tries her best. Then Mama's happy.

Not an ordinary Sunday!

I just got off of Facebook with a good chuckle.  A Facebook friend of mine posted a pretty picture of some daisies in her garden and wrote, "Oh, ordinary Sunday, show me your beauty!" It's funny how things change from one neck of the woods to the other. While her neck of the woods showed her flowers, rainbows and sunshine, mine showed this:

Max had been wanting to take the dogs to a park so I decided that this would be a good day before it rained. We had just all piled into the car and stopped at the library to drop some books off when I noticed there was a funny looking cloud in the sky. Not a tornado, but a strange lump that was hanging from the bottom of a cloud. I didn't think much of it and we proceeded to go to the park.

Not even five seconds later, I happened to look in the review mirror and I couldn't believe my eyes--there was a tornado streaking down in rapid speed towards the ground! It was like something that I have seen so many times on National Geographic and weather channels, and yet, here it was, right in front of me (well, technically, in back of us.) I began to say, "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"

Now I never say God's Name so the kids knew something was up. Odd that they didn't call me on saying His Name (Max especially), instead they all began to ask what was wrong. I choked out, "There's a tornado right behind us."

I am terrified of tornados. I have the same two bad dreams over and over--one of me being in a bad car accident and the other trying to outrun a tornado. And here I was, living one of my worst nightmares.

The kids looked behind us and began to cry. I feel bad about that--I am not calm in these situations, though I try with all my might to be calm. I encouraged them to pray and we all began to pray little snippets of the Our Father and Hail Mary's, asking for God's intervention. In the meantime, you can bet I turned the car in the opposite direction of the tornado and headed out of there!

From another source



 

I kept looking in the review mirror as we drove down the highway in the opposite direction, expecting the tornado to come bearing down on us any second. Even though I could still clearly see it, I was relieved to see that it was getting smaller in the distance. Just when I began to breath a sigh of relief, I saw another form and head to the ground! TWO tornados!

 

No lie, this is just like my nightmare, except that I'm at home. Everything will be calm and sunny and then I happen to look out the window and there are tornadoes everywhere, streaking down from the sky.

 

I shouldn't have said anything but I couldn't help it. "Now there are TWO tornados!" I said out loud, and the kids looked and began to cry harder. "Drive faster!" Max said, sounding scared, who normally loves storms and tornadoes.

 

"What happened to wishing you could see a tornado?" taunted Luke. Even then, I couldn't believe how Luke chose his moments for teasing.

 

I drove as fast as I dared. Apparently, the people ahead of us had absolutely no fear of tornadoes or didn't know that there were two on our tail. But as I drove and kept checking my mirror, I could see that the second tornado, which was pretty wimpy, had already disintegrated and that the first one looked like it was heading back up to the clouds. I kept driving anyway, I didn't want to be in a storm where tornadoes were forming. I had no desire to be in that situation again.

 

I called Dennis as I drove, who of course, had a hard time believing the story. The sirens had never gone off, which I thought was weird (and I still do) and so he thought that perhaps it was just a dust funnel or something. You know what they call dust funnels?? Tornadoes!!

 

Ok, anyway, he was convinced that I had seen something that looked to be like tornadoes but could see nothing on the weather radar. I looked too (I pulled over, don't worry), and saw absolutely nothing about severe weather or tornado warnings. I began to feel really stupid, wondering if what I had saw were tornadoes?

 

Thankfully, my pride was saved when Dennis forwarded me the pictures (seen on the blog) from other viewers both from Glencoe and Norwood. Thank goodness I wasn't the only one! Later, it was confirmed by KARE 11:

 

 

 

 

 

 

I looked up "landspout" and it's still identified as a type of tornado, but very weak:

A landspout, on the other hand, does not have all the same ingredients that a supercell tornado does. A landspout begins by horizontal tubes of air that get tilted upright by an updraft of a thunderstorm. Usually there are no wall clouds that are associated with landspouts. The look of the funnel is usually narrow and hard to identify until it starts picking up debris.
Landspouts typically are short lived and weak. However, some landspouts have been given the rating of EF-2.

By the way, this was definitely an EF-2

So that was our adventure for the day. Good grief, I don't know how God thinks I can handle all this excitement.

We are home now and the sun is shining. So now I can laugh and also agree with my Facebook friend, that yes, this Sunday is a beautiful one--but in no way ordinary!

Post Script:

I should add before I am scolded for outrunning a tornado (I already have been), that I could tell that the tornado was in the next town. Even though it was close enough to see that it was coming towards us, I also knew that it was probably about 10 miles away or so, and I had a good distance from it. Normally I would never put the kids in danger by trying to outrun a tornado if it truly was close by!

Also, I can't help but question that this truly was a landspout. I'm not meteorologist, but I saw the tornado forming when it was just a strange lump in the sky, and then forming from a downward spiral. It's said that landspouts usually start from the ground and go upward, while this started from the clouds and went downward.

I guess we will never know...(but I will always call it a tornado!)

Thirteen Facts about Sensitive People (and things that you shouldn't say, because they are, you know, sensitive.)

All my life, I've been labeled as "sensitive" or "over-sensitive." While it is a fact, (and I often refer to myself as sensitive), this label has its drawbacks. Rather than go on an emotional rant and be told (yet again), that I am just "being sensitive", I thought it would be more fun to write out a list of what NOT to do or say around sensitive people-plus, a little more!

And no, nothing "brought this on" (hmmm, I should add that to the list.) I have been wanting to write this out for a while. But I have held back, thinking that some people might read into it and be offended. I have news for those people: Don't be so sensitive! Ha!

Here we go!

1.  When a sensitive person pours out their heart to you, do NOT say, "You're just being sensitive/emotional." Even if you secretly think they are. Once in a while, the sensitive people have something to complain about! (Usually about insensitive people.)

2. When you DO feel that the sensitive person has a justifiable reason for feeling offended, do NOT say, "No, you're right. You're not being too sensitive this time." (Would YOU like to be told if you have the right to feel offended or not??)

3. When a person who you label to be sensitive seems to be grumpy/upset "yet again", do not just assume that they are being "sensitive." Think of the last thing you said. Could it be that YOU were being insensitive??

4. Going off of #3, sensitive people tend to be afraid to speak up for fear they will be told they are being "too sensitive." Then they are told they shouldn't hold things in. Does this make sense?? One or the other, people!

5. Sensitive people are  often avoided because of their sensitivity, but sought out to be the shoulder to cry on. Now, you know this is true. I go to my Mom when I'm hurting, not because she's my mom, but because I know she is a sensitive person and will hear me out. I tend to avoid others who just want to advise. When you have a hurting heart, the last thing you want is lecture. You go to the Sensitive Person because they "get it."

6. Sensitive people tend to be deep thinkers. This is not a terrible thing, people! We think deeply, we feel deeply. It all goes together.

7. Sensitive people need more time to "get over it".  This isn't really attractive about sensitive people, and it's annoyance to others who aren't sensitive. They have a hard time understanding "what the big deal is." Like stated in #6, sensitive people think deeply. There is probably more to the hurt than what you may know, therefore, the sensitive person also feels more hurt. It's not that they want to "punish you" for the hurt others caused, but just that they need more time to recover from it. And usually, they do.

8. Sensitive people forgive easily.  People may scoff at this because of the extra time sensitive people need to get over a misunderstanding or hurt and assume that the sensitive person is just brooding or "hanging on" to the hurt. But in fact, once the sensitive person has recovered, they bounce back rather easily and are eager to forgive. They usually appreciate the friendships that they have and rather "forgive and forget" than let those relationships go.

9. St.Therese was a sensitive person! She is my "go-to" saint for sensitivity. And although she describes her over-sensitivity as a fault, I think she would agree that it was also a gift. Look at the beautiful prayers that she wrote, the beautiful poems.

10. Going off of #7, sensitivity is a gift. Though at times it is also a burden, God calls us to love, and loving others make us more sensitive. We learn to feel others pain more than our own. This is a painful gift, but a gift nonetheless. I've learned to be grateful to God for this gift of many thorns!

11. Don't tell a sensitive person they are "sensitive" unless you make it sound like a good thing. After being coaxed to explain a problem to someone, my crying daughter finally opened up and told it all. This was pretty hard for her. The person then said, "Oh. You're very sensitive, aren't you?" And that was it. Enough said?

12. Do not try "fix" or "toughen up" the sensitive person. First of all, it doesn't work and second, the sensitive person will only try to avoid you or may even end up resenting you. Life is full of "life lessons" and will toughen that person up on its own. Instead, be the person the sensitive person can trust. Do what the sensitive person does for you. Just listen.

That said...

I am a sensitive person but I also have five children who have inherited my sensitivity, so I live on the other side of the spectrum as well. I well know how hard it can be to "tip toe" around the sensitive person. I have a rule of thumb that I go off of though: Don't tiptoe. The sensitive person is a lot tougher than you think.

I have one more tip.

13. Give the sensitive person some credit.  I've learned to bite my tongue, hold back retorts, keep hurt feelings to myself (when I know that it is a case of over-sensitivity) and make excuses for the people who thoughtlessly speak without thinking. Ironically, my sensitivity that makes me look weak in front of others, has made me stronger.

Waiting for God's will

It occurred to me the other day as I was listening to the kids prayers and their endless lists of "I wants", that I have never talked to the kids about submitting themselves to God's will. Not once! It was as though God tapped me on the shoulder one day and reminded me of this important piece of information; the ultimate key to living a happy life!

Well, I've now rectified that problem and am trying to do better about teaching the kids about discernment of God's will for their lives. Not just a one time lesson, but a lesson that needs to be taught over and over again, for it goes against our own will to let God take over our lives.

I'm finding myself in the same predicament as I am now at a crossroads in my life with dog training. I've completed my work with CATCH and will take the test for certification soon. But for the most part, I can start training, if I want. I've been stalling though, not sure which way to go with this. Do I want to start working with a company like Petsmart or Petco? Maybe a doggy daycare? Or do I want to do this on my own? Or should I want to try to get an apprenticeship and volunteer hours for more learning? There are many ways to go about dog training. It can be a very lucrative business, unlike what most people think. And although I've never been in it for the money, the whole reason why I started all of this in the first place, was to help out with money and still be home enough for the kids.

My whole experience with Marley, the dog from hell, showed me once again that I went about discerning God's will all wrong. I had thought I had prayed for direction but I didn't take time to listen to God's answer. Rather, I "prayed as I went", jumping first for the opportunity to dog sit and make some money, praying, "Lord, if You don't want this, please let me know." (That's my simple prayer for discernment. No bells or whistles for me.)

Well, we all know how my experience with Marley went.

I was so confused because I had prayed for God's will and thought that since the opportunity came my way, it was what God wanted. And yet, it was a terrible experience with so much stress, causing fights about the dog within the family. I couldn't believe that this is what God would want for me and my family.

I had another bad experience with a dog training company (I don't want to mention their name) where I observed a class, thinking that I needed some help with my lack of leadership and timidity that has developed over the months. I sat at the class thinking I would leave inspired about how to be a good leader, and instead, I witnessed two big dog fights that happened during class. Yelps from dogs and tufts of fur went flying into the air in true dog-fighting style, as the trainer grabbed the offending dog and threw him bodily on the floor--not once but twice, since the dog had not calmed down. I sat there, horrified and wishing I had never come.

(By the way, it was necessary for the trainer to be very physical with that dog. The dog was about to rip the other dog into shreds. For his safety and everyone else in the class, the trainer had to be very assertive, "top dog" in order to whip the other dog into submission. It's not how I would normally proceed with my own training, but I do understand why the trainer acted as he did.)

I had thought God had led me to volunteering for this company, but now I know I could never volunteer with them. I've changed too much, I've learned there are other ways of training. I'm not saying that being an assertive leader is wrong--there are times you have to be very assertive. But being a kind leader is not wrong either.

And then I realized that again, I didn't really ask for what God wanted. I just prayed as I went, asking Him to show me if it was right or wrong to proceed. Well, He showed me alright.

I've wondered why I have so many "bad experiences" in my life and realized that when I pray for God's discernment, I don't wait for Him to answer me. I've been too impatient, telling Him that He can "let me know" either during or after the opportunity of a lifetime.

This all clicked in my head during Mass yesterday. I finally prayed as I should: "Lord, lead me down the path that You want. Bring into my life what is necessary and take out what isn't. Help me to learn to sit still and listen. I won't move forward until You let me know."

And as usual, with this prayer came the prayer for patience to wait and let God tell me in His own time.

I told the kids God desires our happiness and has the perfect plan already laid out, if only we will ask Him. But we tend to be too proud and willful to let Him have a say in our life. I am in my forties, and still trying to figure this out. I think of all I went through particularly in my twenties, and how much grief I could've saved myself if only I had took the time to discern God's will for my life.

And so I try to teach the kids to discern early in their life what God wants in their life. What exciting things could He have planned? Marriage? Priesthood? Even Sainthood?

Only God knows.

A Spot of Mercy

We may not always understand each other, we may not always be "holy" and act like it. But we are all called to be merciful. It's what we can do if we choose.

Sometimes it seems that there's never a moment of pause or rest, just ongoing (internal) suffering. But then someone does an act if mercy.. I call that a spot of mercy. Or a moment of mercy. It feels like when just for a moment, you get some shade from the hot sun before the cloud moves on. Or just for a moment, you can rest your feet and enjoy the relaxation before you are called to run again. It's only for a moment, but those moments are the best.

A kind word here, or a moment of understanding (or just acceptance) there. Those are my spots of mercy. I need those spots in my life. I know others need them. Why do we deprive each other from these spots of mercy? Why do we prefer to accuse rather than understand? Even when someone is a jerk to us, why don't we search deeper? What made them so angry, so hurt, to want to hurt back??

A lack of mercy. A lack of relief. Constant pain from one another.

I had a spot of mercy this morning from someone. I was hurting about something very deep and the worst part was that I couldn't talk about it (and still can't.) It is one of those things that people won't understand; one of those things you can talk about only in Confession. It's a burden to suffer like that, to not be able to unburden yourself to someone, to have to carry it on your own.

But then this person called me to see how I was doing. I told her that I wasn't doing very well. She didn't really understand or why I felt so angry inside. I couldn't explain it to her because I didn't understand it myself. But the fact that she cared enough to call, to the fact that she wanted to understand. It was a moment of mercy, where, just for a moment, the burden was lifted. Just for a moment, the burden was shared. It reminded me of how important it is to be kind and merciful to one another. Just to love one another. It's the only thing we've been called to do. One task, and yet, we won't do it.

I love my little book of Secret to Happiness. This man was so imperfect and so good at allowing others to see it. What if he tried to hide it all? We would never be inspired to be good.

From Pope John XXIII

"Since we are called to do good rather than to destroy evil, to build up rather than tear down, I seem to find myself in the right place to continue always seeking the good without looking for different ways of understanding or judging life. Ah, the saints, the saints....How they were practical, fervent and good--above all good!"

Let us be good too--strive to find good in everyone, even in their worst moments. To love them when they are unloveable. To wait for them when they push us away. To forgive them even when they don't say they're sorry. This is love--true love! We have to suffer in this life, but if we loved one another the way we're called to, think of all the spots of mercy we would enjoy!

Is is something wrong with Luke's phalange?

So after my scary IEP meeting where all the teachers dumped their worries on me about Luke regressing and claiming he should have an MRI or CAT scan, I asked them to write up their notes so I could show the doctor. We went to the appointment and she read through them and then talked to the neurologist. Long story short, he feels everything is fine. He feels this is all due to stress.

You would think I would feel instant relief and even maybe smug ("I was right!") since this is what I thought as well. But I didn't. Instead, I felt like: "What??? He's seen Luke only once! And he's making this 'educated guess' over the phone without even doing an evaluation?? Doesn't he want to see him??? Doesn't he want to do an exam first??? How can he be so sure that's it's only stress, when four other people are saying with their numbers that there is something wrong?!"


Even though I had my opinions on the matter, I also had it in the back of my head that I could be wrong. And that little tiny doubt was satisfied with knowing that a test would tell us for sure that something was wrong or not.

And now I don't even have that small comfort.

So right now, I just feel frustrated. I am back to the beginning, battling anxiety that other's dumped on my lap in an IEP meeting. I feel angry at these teachers that didn't even bring this to my attention right away and instead waited two months for a meeting. I feel angry at the arrogant neurologist who made his assessment over the phone without even reading any of these notes. I feel just pure frustration with everyone.

My emotions have been on a rollercoaster ride for the past two months, and every time I think the ride is ending and I want to get off, it starts all over again. The total lack of sensitivity is just ridiculous!

How am I feeling? Worried. Scared. Nervous. Unsure. All because of other's suspicions and another's refusal to look into it. Much like this little clip on Friends.





The power of suggestion! It is very strong, isn't it? (Notice Racheal got off the plane as well!)

I have found my peace by mentally "firing" our neurologist and placing God in his place. I've asked God to watch over Luke, alert me if something is wrong, but let me enjoy the peace that (supposedly) everything is ok.

I just don't want to not have to worry anymore, you know? I just want to get on with life. I don't want to deal with any more "left phalanges" and get off the plane for no reason.

Clean up in Asile 2

Today we went to Petco to get a pooper-scooper. Now that we have two dogs, the work is twice as much, as you can imagine. Shovels are tough to work with and even harder with the kids, and plus, scoopers are more fun, which hopefully makes the work more appealing. (The clean-up job lands mainly on the kids.)

The kids talked me into bringing both Ace and Joey into Petco, since people bring their dogs in all the time. Bad idea. As I knew would happen, Ace ended up marking Aisle #2 as his own. When we first got Ace, he was marking the house for about a week. That dog was on his way out the door, but thankfully, he got it under control.

Anyway, those accidents must happen a lot, because they had a self-serve clean up station. We were told it was over by "fire hydrant", which was a big cardboard cutout of a red fire hydrant with paper towels and sprayer. I told the boys to go by the fire hydrant to clean it up (I was busy with something else and had the two dogs with me to try to control) and I saw Max and Luke wandering back and forth, looking for the cleaning station. How they could miss the insanely large, bright red fire hydrant is beyond me. I could see it looming above the aisles and I was all the way across the store.

Just when I thought the situation was under control, I saw Luke walking towards me carrying a fire hydrant. Yes, that's right. The actual fire hydrant.

 I have no idea what Luke was planning on doing with the fire hydrant; if he was thinking he was actually going to spray the dog pee away with it or what.  Instead, I hurried Luke and the two dogs back to where he found the fire hydrant---which happened to be stationed right next to the cleaning station.

I realize that Petco probably didn't think people would get confused by putting two fire hydrants so closely stationed together, but they also hadn't met the Arganbrights yet! Haha!

While Luke was trying in vain to lift the heavy hydrant back on it's hook, I hurried with the two dogs to find someone to help him. In hindsight, I should have told him to just leave the hydrant on the floor, but I wasn't thinking. Thankfully, a guy with a sense of humor was nearby and thought the situation was funny when I told him that my son was having trouble with the fire hydrant--the actual fire hydrant. (He tried pointing me out to the cleaning station. He must have that question asked a hundred times a day.)

With that, we stumbled as a group out the door. Yes, five kids and two dogs never goes well for me but it has it's entertaining moments.

We've had people ask how things are going with us with Luke and all. As you can probably gather, things are going quite normally. (Yes, that would be a typical day for us.)

Luke appears to be just fine. Other than what the teachers have reported at school, I would never guess that anything is wrong.

As for me, as I've said before, I refuse to worry about something until we get concrete evidence that something is wrong. I have worried enough about his tic. I don't want to worry about this too.

He does have his appointment with the doctor this Wednesday. We'll see what she says. In the meantime, life goes on. Sometimes it's great, and sometimes there's clean up in Aisle 2. At any rate, we're doing just fine.

Highs and lows

Life is full of highs and lows. For me, they are happening too close together. It makes you feel like you're caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

The high: working on the remodel of the downstairs bathroom.

The low: no longer working on it for money reasons.

The high: Going to work on my first "client", watching and training a Great Dane puppy. (On Tuesdays only.)

The low: They changed their minds.

The high: Getting closer to finishing school. Making plans for work.

The low: the more I learn about the business side, the more nervous I get that it's going to actually work.

The high: got a lot of sales

The low: Despite the sales, somehow, we are still in large debt


The debt is the biggest thing, it always is. I feel like we never climb out of this hole. It is very hard to do even just the basics and necessities, and when we do, it has to go on the credit card, which makes our debt even higher.

It's discouraging.

The high: We've adopted the Angel Prayer in times of discouragement. I don't know about Dennis, but the prayer always lift my spirits a little:

My God,

I believe, I adore, I hope, and I love Thee.

I beg pardon for those who do not believe, do not adore, do not hope and do not love Thee.

Another low/high: tomorrow is Luke and Max's IEP meeting. I have mixed feelings about this. Working with the school back when Luke's tic was a mystery was difficult. My biggest fault is that I trust too much, too quickly. Assume people will care and then find out the hard way that they don't.

(Sorry, I know this is a downer post!)

There have been some that have been good, some that actually cared. But the ones I expected to care haven't. And the ones that I didn't think would care, did. It reminds me very much of the Good Samaritan story.

And then there's Max. The school suggested that he start going back to school for a few hours day/week. I thought this was a great idea, actually. It will be a good way to transition going back to school.

Yet, it will be hard to share him. I've worked so hard this year with Max. Me and Mom did. We worked hard to bring up his confidence, get him back to where he should have been academically. The school sort of frowns on homeschooling (without trying to be obvious, but little comments come here and there) and I don't want them to ruin what we've done. I hope the IEP will show us what steps to take next.

I will end on a positive note. Luke's tic seems to be fading away gradually. We've noticed that there are times he doesn't tic at all. This is great news, but I seem to be celebrating alone. Oh well.

I am happy. My prayers have been answered. We've weathered our little storm, the storm that mattered to us.

The Big Bowl of Complaints

Lately, the kids have been loading me down with complaints about each other and the fights they have. From the moment I get out of bed (sometimes even before I can get out of bed), someone meets me with teary eyes or an angry face. This goes on and on throughout the day.

Today I had enough. There are the "normal" squabbles that you expect from five children, and then there are just bad habits. None of the lectures seemed to work. None of the punishments or positive reinforcements. (Sorry, there is a time for positive reinforcements and times that just don't work for positive reinforcements, and this was one of those times!)

I normally do catechism with the kids on Sundays. Today, I decided to teach them one lesson: a little "visual" of much they complain!

So I asked the kids to write down on pieces of paper all of the problems they came to me with today. For the little kids, we just talked about it and I wrote down their complaints for them. It was funny how honest they were about telling on themselves! ("I whined about juice!" "I complained about not having any candy!")

For the older kids, it was harder for them to be so honest. I helped them remember though, don't worry.

Pretty soon our bowl was very full.

A bowl full of one days complaints!

I then had the kids pass the bowl around and read each complaint. From their expressions, I could see that they were beginning to see some of the pettiness of their complaints. They even found some of them pretty funny. Some of the complaints were pretty silly.

 

 

If only the complaints didn't follow with crying and a tantrum afterwards, perhaps I could get through it. Or if people would just take "no for an answer" instead of me having to repeat it ten more times later. ("The answer is no...the answer is still no...if you keep asking me, you will lose ( that privilege) completely.")

The weird thing was, they all seemed genuinely sorry for their complaining. Even Henry. I was very surprised that he understood the lesson so well. I think that seeing the number of complaints, to see them filling up a bowl, to hear them read out loud (we did not put names on the complaints--the complainers knew what complaints they had), helped the kids realize that by their own admission, they complained a lot. Heck, if I wrote out the complaints I got today, I would have filled two bowls, but this was about them taking responsibility for it themselves.

Well, believe it or not, it worked. I'm not saying that there wasn't the occasional complaint, but all the kids really thought about what was worth complaining about and what wasn't. Even the younger kids, and that is hard for them.

Sometimes I hesitate to tell people about my way of teaching my kids manners--I have been told by too many well-meaning people that I can be too harsh and then given much advice on how to do things differently. Women are great that way, aren't they? Always handing out advice like it's chocolate or something. And then calling it charity. I like to call it "charity on a stick", just like the State Fair food. It's always there, right in front of you to munch on, and so convenient too.

Anyhoo...back to the subject...

The truth is, I am terrible about being patient. God knows how often I confess this sin both at bedtime in confession. I am convinced that it is through my children that I have to eventually learn how to be patient or die trying. But I am not shy about asking for help with my weaknesses, especially from my kids. Anything to help me will help you, I often tell them.

So it is through these little "visuals" that I try to teach my kids some things that they do that bog me down as a parent. And yes, I felt a little like a complainer myself, by bringing all this up in such a way. Also true, I worried that perhaps I might go a little too far in my lesson and bring about discouragement. Nobody is perfect, and I sure to don't want to put that burden on anyone.

But it seems like my kids learn best this way. They were able to see how many complaints I receive in one day alone. They actually empathized with me. And I needn't have worried about discouragement; God didn't make kids resilient for nothing! As soon as the little lecture was over, they bounced up already talking about what they were going to play next without even an extra glance at the bowl.

The biggest thing was, they stopped complaining. Well, sort of. There were still complaints and whining but it was at a pace I could handle. They were showing some restraint, which I appreciated. And more than that, it showed me that they learned something!

This is what I love about parenting. There are days when I feel I am terrible at it and just can't do it. And then there are other days I helped my kids make a connection and I just have to give myself a high five.

Parenting is hard enough; that's why we come in pairs. So turn to your spouse and high five each other before you go to bed today---because tomorrow you'll have to do it all over again.

God is good!

Yesterday Henry hurt his finger and we couldn't tell if it was jammed or broken. I wanted to bring him into the Urgent Care because it was causing him a lot of pain but Dennis wanted to wait a little and see what happened. (Hard for a mom to do!)

So I agreed to wait but in the meantime, I thought I should see if anyone could come babysit in case I did have to bring him into Urgent Care in the morning. So I called my mom (who happened to be in the car with some friends) and explained what happened and she said, "Can you talk to my friend about this? She's a pediatrician!" And she passed the phone onto her.

What are the odds of a pediatrician being in the car at the exact time I called??? Only God could have planned that out.

This good doctor saved us a trip to the Urgent Care and told me to body tape Henry's two fingers together for now because that's pretty much all they would do for him, even if it was a fracture. So the next morning, we headed out to the pharmacy to pick up body tape and I taped his fingers together which Henry proudly showed off.

He is already doing so much better; I'm glad that we didn't bring him in more for Dennis's sake than anyone's. He just paid a very big bill of $1,100 for his brake lines in his truck and I know the thought of medical bills and X-rays was stressing him out. I must admit that I didn't think to pray about my situation and didn't really think too much about the money aspect. As a mom, my only concerns were for Henry and his comfort.

But see how God intervenes, even when we don't ask Him too. He was aware of the situation and cared both for Henry and for Dennis (and all of us.) He provided the best solution by prompting me to call my mom at the same moment she just happened to have a pediatrician in the car. And even though I was suffering more from "Nervous Mom Jitters" more than Henry was from his finger (he was sleeping when I called), I took the doctors advice and it seems she has saved us hundreds, if not thousands of dollars for an Urgent Care visit and an X-ray.

God is good, and He cares.

We are going anyway

This past week has been a tough week. My husband sold his boat and our church canceled Family Adoration.

The boat thing--it is not mine but I am sad--so sad--to see it go. Those were family memories in that boat; fishing trips, Father's Days. It was Dennis way of getting out of the house, his source of "clean fun", a chance to get together with friends, taking family out on boat rides. I cried buckets of tears the day he sold his boat but I never let him see. I don't know why.

The same week, our church canceled Family Adoration.

This was the only program our church had for families. Of course, there are other programs--good programs too--but they aren't for families. It was the right decision because no one was going. No one but one family, and that was us.

When we first started going, there were a few families going faithfully. Then it dwindled down to two or three. Then just two, and finally one--ours. We went for a year, being the only ones to show up, and let me tell you, there is nothing more lonely than showing up to pray with others and no one is there. Ever.

Our priest knew it was important to me and the kids, and so we held out for a year. But it became pointless. Why bother the priest to come to the church for just one family?

A vote was taking among those who would come sporadically throughout the year and everyone voted to cancel family adoration. This too, I cried for a few days, but I didn't let anyone see. Have you ever hurt so bad that you don't want people to know? It's a strange thing. I think I was just worried that if someone misunderstood my fragile feelings and said the wrong thing that I just wouldn't be able to take it.

I won't lie, I am disappointed. I know there will be other programs, other boats, new chapters in our life. But it is hard waiting in the in-between times.

And then I found on Facebook this meme being passed around:

I wanted to pass this onto my priest and say, "See? We do need family adoration!" But that would be silly, because he kept it going as long as he could and it's not his fault that it died out.

It died out because people didn't want to come.

So we are going anyway. We discovered something good in family adoration; we discovered Jesus in the Blessed Sacrament. My kids have made a connection between the Jesus that sits in the Monstrance and the Jesus that is risen high in the air for all to see at Mass. They have discovered a personal relationship through vocal prayer. Mental prayer in silence. Song out loud or in your hearts.

My church has adoration once a week and I won't let that die out too. We will at least go to that. We will go as a family and though we won't be able to talk out loud, we will pray together as we did before.

I have some consolation in knowing that Jesus never quits even if we do.

The beauty of falling down

Recently, I had a very humbling experience of getting upset with my neighbor. I will not go into details here, except to say that though I had some reason to be upset, my approach was all wrong. I stormed over there and really gave her a piece of my mind. And suddenly, in the heat of the moment, it suddenly hit me the way I was behaving. "What am I doing???"  I thought to myself.

I apologized profusely and my neighbor was good enough to let it go. Later, I wrote another letter of apology and delivered it to her mailbox before we left on our family vacation. At least I had a place to escape to!

I was mortified that I could act in such a way, and deeply humbled. I had fallen into a class of people that I had unconsciously labeled "One of them." One of "those people", the kind that loses their temper with anyone, the kind that talks down and condescends, the one that thinks they are better than everyone else. Me, a Christian, a good Catholic. This is how I normally would think of myself, if at all. And yet, I had stooped down to a level I couldn't believe existed within myself.

It took me a few days to get over this deep embarrassment. But God is so good and forgiving. While I come to Him, abashed and ashamed, embarrassed and babbling that I didn't know that I could ever behave in such a way, He says, "It's ok, Becky. I knew."

Whenever we think we are making some good success, God gives a little spiritual poke to let us know: "Don't celebrate yet. You've still got a lot of work to do!"
It is a hard thing to come to terms with, that we aren't perfect. It is a harder thing to realize that unconsciously, we thought we were.

Yes, we are "one of them." We are sinners and offenders, we are short on patience and love. We put ourselves before others without even realizing it. We are completely absorbed in self-love and obsessed with ourselves. Thank God for His spiritual pokes. Thank God He points out our flaws. It is spiritually humbling, but we are so much better for it.

And when someone has offended us, someone has fallen down, it is our job to lift them up again. God didn't place us there to remind them of their offenses, to reiterate what doesn't need reiterating. He has placed us there to lift them back up, to help them be on their way, lest they completely give up on themselves out of embarrassment and pride.

We sin, we repent, we move on. It has to be in that order. I tell my kids that this is what Confession is.  Literally a spiritual conveyer belt that forces you to keep going. "Go and sin no more." It is a relief to know that it ok to "go" and move on.

So if someone has offended you and repents, someone asks for your forgiveness, give it to them. Or God will remind you what it feels like to be the offender and not know the mercy of forgiveness.

Changes

It's been a while since I last posted! There has been a lot going on lately.

The biggest change for me is that I have decided to become a dog trainer! Is that random or what??

Dog trainer. When I hear those words, I immediately think of circus dogs or  nerdy guys with clipboards and doggy pouches attached to them. (Sorry if anyone is offended by that.) However, this is the direction God seems to be leading me in.

The past few weeks a lot has happened; financial things suddenly changed into an emergency making us realize that it was absolutely essential that I find something--something--that I could do to help bring in money.

Dog training was not just something that I picked off the top of my head. Actually, it's the last thing I would have thought of. I had been looking searching for work through online ads and "Monster.com" for something that I could do and hopefully something that would be enjoyable enough for me to feel motivated by. But it also had to work with Dennis's work schedule and still have someone watch the kids, and there was nothing out there.

So we did a novena to Our Lady of Good Success. After all, "success" was what we needed. Not financial success, but something that would pull us out of this financial hole, and also something that I could do successfully and also keep my primary roles (wife and mother), well, primary.
So Dennis and I started the novena, and Day 1 was when "dog trainer" came to mind. I didn't really think much of it as an answer to prayer but just something that I could do "in the future."

Day 2 of my novena, dog training was coming more and more to mind. I kept rejecting it as "too easy". My pride wanted something more important than that. But in truth, I have loved training my dog, Joey. I discovered a real love for dog training and even better, it has totally paid off. I am not a "book person" and have never done well in school, but I totally devoured dog information wherever I could. I guess you could say that God had me start my education early, without even realizing it.

But to do it as a job. I didn't want that. I didn't even mention the idea to Dennis; I was sure he would laugh. But secretly, I began to research what it entailed to become a trainer; how long did it take, how much does a trainer make and so on. The more I read about it, the more excited I became.

dogtrainingclub.com

Day 3 of my novena, I began to realize that this "dream" that evolved within three days could be an answer to prayer for something I could do both for myself and also to help the family. Simple though it was, it was perfect for me. And it wasn't as easy as I had thought. Half of the education comes from experience and hands-on. You can learn a lot from books but dogs are the best teachers.

It's also very versatile, and it would work well with our schedule. As for money, you make according to what you know by education and experience, so the more you learn, the more you can charge. (That's why some dog trainers charge only a little and some charge you a lot!)

Anyway, at this point, I began to look into schools. Most training is done online for dog trainers. It was hard to find one that I could trust and also that Dennis would be convinced was "real" and trustworthy. I knew it was going to take a lot to convince him that this could be the answer to our prayers.

The other problem was money. We don't have it. Here we were in the worst financial slump ever and yet I had to convince Dennis to get ourselves out of it, I would have to go back to "school." After doing more research, I learned that you can go two different ways to become a trainer:

• You can learn everything on your own by reading tons of articles and lots of dog books, volunteer at shelters for hands-on experience and get online certification. It isn't required to be certified in order to work as a trainer, but everyone feels a little better to know that you have learned enough to be certified, and chances are you will have an easier time finding work.
• Or you can go through a dog training school where they will provide all the curriculum and what you need to know and more for you, and then get certified at the end.

For me, it was more comfortable to get my education from people who know what makes a good trainer great, and half the things they say you should learn are things that I wouldn't have even thought of on my own. They send you a "library" of books to study from with online curriculum and tests at the end of every phase. You speak to trainers who mentor you either by phone or Skype, and then you work with a trainer who comes to your area to work with you and dogs.

As good as it all sounded, it still seemed impossible for me because I knew we couldn't make those monthly payments. I needed at least $100 every month to take just the Beginners course--enough to get me started as a trainer (and then hopefully continue education towards a Master Trainer.)

Day 4 of my novena: out of nowhere, I got five rosary sales. All summer long, I have only had one or two sales. Now suddenly, I have enough to make my first monthly payment. I took this as a sign from God to continue. Now all I needed to do was convince Dennis. (By the way, after the five sales, I have not had any since!)


This is where unfortunately, we forgot to continue our novena, however, I felt we had our answer. I continued to pray for direction though. I finally presented my idea to Dennis. By this time, I had done my research on what it takes to become a trainer, found a good trustworthy school, and had a plan to help make ends meet. As I knew he would be, he was skeptical and cautious--but not as bad as I thought he would be.

Now, two weeks later, he is much more on board and even excited about our new plan. I am going to make the monthly payments on my own--trusting that God will provide me with rosary sales or other ways to make the payments. If I can't, my mom--who has been very excited about all this from the beginning--has promised to help if I can't meet a payment.

I have already started my education with an online study guide to get me started and have learned a lot of about puppy socialization. I'm learning a lot what I did not know, and discovering a lot of mistakes that we made with Joey in not socializing him enough. (He is a pretty fearful dog, but we are continuing to expose him to new things.)

Just waiting for the books now, and it's all I can think about.

Every day, I thank God for this new change He has brought into my life. When I realized that I Would have to go back to work, I was scared, because there isn't much I know how to do and there isn't much physically I can do, with my heart. With our complicated schedule and a special needs kid that still needs me to be around a lot, I didn't know how it would be possible to find work that would bring in any money.

I was scared we were going to lose our house, that's how bad it was. I was feeling like a burden to Dennis, another mouth to feed and bump on a log that couldn't do nothing.

But over and over again, God amazes me, astounds me, with His answers when we allow Him to take over our life. When we finally have the courage and humility to say, "You do it."

I am very excited to start this new journey in my life, and all I can say to God every day is "Thank you for changing my life~"

Pink Eye Rant

I am a little annoyed right now and must dump my vent somewhere.

Last week, the school nurse called us to come get Max saying that he had Pink Eye. When we got Max home, even I could see that it was nothing more than allergies and it cleared up within an hour. The frustrating thing was that the school wouldn't let Max come back until he got an "all clear" from a doctor and/or came back with drops. But when we tried to bring him into Minute Clinic, they were closed for lunch and Dennis had an appointment later that day, so we didn't have any way to get Max in and seen and still make it back to school.

So Max got to stay home for nothing that day. Not a huge deal, because we're in the last days of school anyway.

Then Anna got Pink Eye. Now this time, it was definitely Pink Eye. She woke up looking a little bleary eyed and within one hour, she changed into this:

I brought her into Minute Clinic (which was open this time) and it had spread into both eyes. We got the drops, and for the rest of the day, we were dealing with burning eyes and a small fever. Her eyes never stopped running with tears pouring down her cheeks (from the Pink Eye).She was miserable.

The next day, Anna looked like this:

We washed her face continually, and washed all her sheets, blankets and pillow cases.

Three days later, it is much better and she gets to go to school, which all Field Day today.

But now Lucy has Pink Eye and we are starting all over again. She was looking forward to going to school today to participate in the games but when I told her she had to stay home, she burst into tears. This is the frustrating part.

Lucy: But Daddy said I could go to school!
Me: You can't. You're contagious for the first 24 hours.
Lucy: No, Daddy said as long as I have drops that I can go!
Me to Dennis:  Why did you tell her that?
Dennis: Because that's what the school nurse told me.
Me: She meant that you're not contagious until after you take the drops for 24 hours.
Dennis: No, she said that I could bring Max right back  to school right after I got the drops from the doctor.
Me: The same day?!
Dennis: Yes.

I realize that this is only Pink Eye, not the flu, not some life threatening disease. But it is miserable just the same, and let's face it, disgusting. It confines you as it is so contagious and so gross that no one wants you touching anything. So I was a little annoyed to hear this news.

Still, I wanted to make sure it wasn't a misunderstanding.

When I dropped Anna off at school, I decided to bring Lucy into the school to report her absence. Rather than confront them on what I learned, I decided to play dumb to see if the school truly thought it was ok to bring Lucy back the same day with Pink Eye. I also wanted them to see Lucy's eye, so there would be no question that she had Pink Eye.

Me: Hi, can I get a permission slip so you can give Lucy her drops later today? She has Pink Eye, and we're on our way to get the drops right now.
Nurse: Sure (hands me the permission slip)
Me: And it's ok for me to bring her back today, right? Even if she still has the Pink Eye?
Nurse: Yes, as long as she has at least one dose. Maybe after an hour or so. But as long as she feels up to it, she can come back to play! (Like I said, it's Field Day at school. Nice to know she would have spread her germs all over the balls and bats, huh??)

In the meantime, there is an outbreak of Pink Eye sweeping through the school. At first, I thought it was uninformed parents sending their kids to school still contagious. But now I realize it was the school!

So I sent the Principal an email explaining what I "learned" about Pink Eye and that I was told by the doctor that Pink Eye is contagious for a full 24 hours. I hope that it came off informative rather than confrontational. I don't really want anyone to get in trouble but I also want the school to be better about enforcing some of their rules on health and safety.

Because of them, Lucy doesn't get to go to Field Day today and she's been talking about it for a week. But I wouldn't dare think of sending her to school to spread her Pink Eye, even if the school allows it. There are still a few more fun days ahead at school and I know she would be sad if her friends had to miss it--because she gave them her Pink Eye.

Trusting God with all of it

I was thinking to myself the other day that anyone reading this blog must think we have tons of money to do all these renovations. But we don't.

Like everyone else, money is an up and down thing. Lately, it's been down. For that reason, the shower doors that we need will have to wait a little longer. "Bad luck" has made us behind in bills; just when we think we're getting caught up, some unknown expense comes up and sets us back again. I try to help out where I can with my rosary orders but lately I am so swamped, that I think I might be losing money rather than making money. I am constantly out of supplies and have to get more, which is an expense in gas since our nearest craft store is 40 minutes away.

There have been days where Dennis and I don't eat to make the food stretch a little further. Instead, I will sit and eat either nothing or else have vegetables since no one else will eat them. I am assuming a lot of parents have done this--it's just something we have to do (especially moms) to feed the kids.

But then things got so bad that we were out of snacks and Dennis didn't even have the money for us to go to the store to get Cheezits or Goldfish crackers--our easy inexpensive snack. There was another day when we didn't have any money for milk for the kids cereal. Thank goodness for pancakes mix.

These tough days were only here and there and soon Dennis would get paid and we would be able to get more groceries. But as bills became the priority, other things began to pile up that we needed. For instance, as the weather has gotten warmer, I noticed that Lucy was still wearing her winter boots. I asked her why she didn't wear shoes and she said she had outgrown hers. So while her friends were wearing regular shoes to school, she was clomping around in her boots. And the white uniform shirt that Max wore to school was two sizes too small and he desperately needed another. I knew without asking that we couldn't afford these two things but worried and stewed about it.

A few more tight weeks went by with barely enough food to make it through the week. I had to turn my kids away hungry more than once when they asked for snacks because we had nothing and no money to buy anything. In the evening when I would make school lunches, I would stress about not having barely enough food to divide between the kids. One day, money was so tight that we didn't even have money to buy sandwich bags and I had nothing to put their crackers in. "We're already in the hole," Dennis had told me, sounding frustrated. "We don't have money to get sandwich bags."

Angry and frustrated, I went to my room and closed the door to pray. "We have no money!" I complained to God. Where did it all go, I had no idea. We had only been putting our money to bills and that was it. We were barely making it by and my kids were growing up hungry. More than once Dennis and I had gone to bed with nothing to eat. And now, we didn't even have money for sandwich bags? I had to throw the crackers in the lunchbox and look like a mother that didn't care enough to bag up her kids crackers.

And so now I complained to God about our situation, asking Him why we had no money. I guess what I was really trying to say (except I was too scared to admit it) is why wasn't He taking care of us??

And just like that, like a shot through the dark, came the words, "You have money."

Immediately I thought to myself, "I do?? Where??"

It was then that I remembered my savings account. Immediately I began to argue with God.

"That is a savings account, meant to make us a nest egg for emergencies." I said.

Which you started for your family, came the reply.

"Yes, but, how will I ever reach our goal of $1000 if we keep having to use it? I already use it for birthdays and holidays. I'm the one that has to come up with gifts. Everytime I dip into it, I have to save all over again."

That money is not to keep for yourself.

These words cut me short. I realized that I had been viewing all my rosary sales as my own, rather than providing for my family. I thought I had been doing a responsible thing by starting a savings account--and so I was. But I was not using it for the reasons that prompted me to start it. I had been making my children go hungry so that I could feel the comfort of having a nest egg I wasn't even using.

I felt very ashamed of myself. I thought of all those times I told my kids that we had "no food" when I could have easily gone to the ATM for some cash to get a few things to get us through the day. I thought about Lucy's boots and how they made her stand out, of Max's too small shirt that looked ridiculous on him. I thought of the burden Dennis had been carrying by himself, trying to pay the bills and make each dollar count and that I had not been willing to share my own.

Immediately, I left the house to go to the ATM and bought sandwich bags. I bought food to bring home for snacks as well as enough to fill up the lunch boxes. And the next day, I went to the store and bought Lucy tennis shoes and Max a shirt that was in his size.

I had to take out $80 to pay for all of it, and I won't lie--it hurt. It was difficult to give up. Somehow, in my insecurity, I had made money my new security--my comfort--of having it nearby for peace of mind, but never allowing myself or anyone else experience the relief of what money can buy you.

I realized that it's not only rich people that can be greedy. It can happen to all of us, even if it's just a few dollars.

It has been difficult "sharing" my money. I still struggle with taking money out when I know we are in a bind. But I also experience relief when I can feed my kids, when they don't have to go to bed hungry, or when they declare "I'm stuffed!" instead of "I'm hungry."

I have to trust God every time I take money out of our precious savings. There isn't much of it and I do still need to be careful about how much I use. But when Dennis asks me to spare $20 to help out with the gas budget, or if we're running low on something, I say a prayer for help to get myself to do the right thing. Every time I take money out, I am taking away a little bit of my peace of mind.

Our priest has said that mercy is "love when you don't deserve it." Well, God has been merciful. That same day that I took out $80 for my family, I received an $80 sale in rosaries. Another time, I had spent a lot of money on my family for things we needed. I also had rosary orders to ship out. I had already taken so much out of savings that I didn't want to take another $20 out just for a few orders. I was wondering what to do when I felt prompted to check my checking account.

It had a balance of $100. I have no idea where it came from. No deposit had been made. Somehow, the money got there. It could be that I had that money in my account and I just forgot about it. Or maybe it was left over from a transfer from a long time ago.

At any rate, that money showed up at just the right time. God knows how disorganized I am and how forgetful I am. Like He said, "You have money." Sometimes I just forget that I do.

I guess I've been pretty surprised to find out that God has been taking care of us all along. I'm not sure why I doubted Him. In my fear and anxiety, I tried to make things right by not spending money at all when we needed it--and made things worse instead. It was a good lesson in letting go, and let God.

Money. We may not have much of it--but we have enough.

How I accidentally ended up at Prince's Memorial Service

One of the prides of Minnesota is that it was home to music icon, Prince. I had known this as a kid but because Prince led a private life (at least, he invited only a handful of people into his life), I eventually forgot that he lived just miles away from me.

But then yesterday, he died. And suddenly I was reminded from all sides that he lived "just down the road."

Today, as one of the small improvements that I want to make to the house, I decided to go to Target to buy a rug for the traffic areas. Our carpet is only a little over a year old, and already showing the wear of much "traffic" from both little and big feet, and not to mention, paws.

I bundled up Henry and decided to take Joey along, even though he wouldn't be able to get out of the car. I planned to get the rug at the Chanhassen Target (they have a sale going on) since our bank was in the same town. We still have yet to switch to a bank that is more nearby.

After the bank, I changed my mind about the Chanhassen Target and decided on the Target in Chaska instead. It is bigger, and therefore would have more selection, I reasoned. So instead of taking a right on Hwy 5, I took a left. This is how I somehow wound up at Prince's Memorial service.

Like I said, I always knew that Prince lived "in town" but I never knew where. When I did occasionally think of it,  I imagined a grand mansion far off in some unknown field where most people wouldn't even look.

What a surprise to learn--after 10 years of living in Chaska ("sister neighborhood" to Chanhassen), that I had been driving by his house on an almost weekly basis all that time.

"The ugly white building", as I had always called it, was actually Prince's home. It is literally right next to the highway, where you would think no one would ever build a house. It is so rectangular and square that it looks like a corporate office rather than a house. It is kitty-corner next to a daycare. Just not where you would expect to see a celebrity's house.

And so, I did not think for a moment that the thick traffic that I suddenly ran into had anything to do with Prince's memorial service. I don't listen to the radio that often and so I heard nothing about a memorial service being held in Chanhassen. And when I saw the line of police cars with their lights flashing and yellow tape barricading the road, I thought it was an accident I was approaching, not a memorial service!

Prince's house on the left.

Concerned that I was going to get stuck in a long wait for the roads to reopen, I looked around for a place to turn around. With it being a highway, it wasn't easy. I noticed a lot of cars heading toward the entrance of a park and decided to follow them to turn around. I thought to myself what a mistake that was, because the parking lot was jammed with both people and cars. Finally, I found a parking space and pulled in to try to figure things out.

It was then that I noticed that the people that were walking were carrying bouquets of flowers and purple balloons. I got out of the car and peered out toward the highway and saw the white "building". I saw the signs with the words "Use walking trail to get to Memorial Service". And finally, a light bulb went on.

Going through the park

I happened to have my camera with me, so I put it in my purse. I got Henry out of the car and told him we were going to take Joey for a walk. We walked through the trails of the park that eventually led to tunnels that crossed underneath the highway...back up to the sidewalks on the other side of the highway and suddenly, we were there.

Fence that says "Purple Rain"

Purple "flowers" (weeds) covered an entire hill

I have never seen so much media in one space in all my life. My pictures don't do justice. It was overwhelming.

I passed by news crew after news crew, some speaking different languages. People from all over the world were here! All for Prince!

I saw all sorts of people. Old people, young people, teenagers, children. Babies and dogs. I saw a group of special needs adults dressed in "Prince" t-shirts. I saw purple hair and purple shirts everywhere.

I was wearing purple too, but that wasn't planned. At least I fit in.

Henry is looking confused as to why we are here. And no, I have no idea who that lady in the backround is.

Once we got there, there really wasn't much more to see. A lot of people were there just out of curiosity, taking pictures in front of his house (didn't seem very appropriate, considering the circumstances.) Others looked like they were truly grieving.

And then, I took a closer look at some of those people who didn't have cameras in their hands, who looked like they were crying and a little lost in their grief. And I wondered, "is this Prince's mom? Sister? Aunt? Brother?A good friend?"

Then I looked at the fence that was strewn with flowers and notes and I finally saw a little more of what they saw. Someone had died here.

I suddenly became very conscious of the people around me; those who were truly mourning. Those that knew who he was, not just as a public figure or "someone famous." The person that filled a place in their hearts and now was gone.

A lump came to my throat and tears came to my eyes, because I felt the pain for those who lost a loved one yesterday.

I put my camera away and told Henry quietly that we had to go. But before I left, I bowed my head and said a few Hail Mary's for the repose of Prince's soul. I don't even know his real name. But God does.

I think that's what hit home for me today, as I drove home (after getting my rug at Target, that is.)

Celebrities. We tend to sort of scoff at them. Judge them. See them as people living a superficial life. And for the most part, it seems to be true. At least, from where we stand.

But God sees them as souls He died for. Today I saw that too. I saw Prince as not a celebrity, but as a brother in Christ. I couldn't help looking around as people gawked and stared, pointed, posed, took pictures. Media reporting and going around with their cameras. And I couldn't help wondering, "Is there anyone praying for him right now? Or for his family?"

Up until today, I knew almost nothing about Prince, except that he was a great song-writer. I also learned that in 2001 he became a Jehovah Witness.

He seeked God. Like all of us, he felt something within him, yearning for happiness. He found God. I know the Jehovah Witness is not a true religion, but I'm putting that aside. It was enough to know that he wanted to know God. It brought tears to my eyes, actually.

I also learned a few years back, he was advised to get a double hip replacement. He decided not to because of the chance that he might need a blood transfusion and he didn't want to be put in a position where he would have to refuse and possibly die.

I admire that. He put God first that day.

It's so important that we don't look down on celebrities. I think most of us do. All around me I hear all sorts of judgmental comments--not just about Prince but all of them. Maybe they have chosen their crosses by putting their lives in the public eye, but God never condoned us to pity them or look down on them.

I love this picture taken (below). This was taken the day he died. Everyone began to shout "Prince!" But for me, I thought "God!" It was like God was saying, "You see? This soul is precious to me. Today he has died and he is showing his life to Me. Don't pity him, just pray for him. Don't judge him on what you don't know. One day it will be you standing before Me, and you will be hoping someone is praying for you."

I pray for celebrities all the time. They are ambitious and driven people who do wild and crazy things to find their happiness. I can't pity that, I admire that. I also think it gets them into a lot of trouble. So let's not look down on these people, we are not better than they are. Let's pray for them. We all belong to each other in the Blood of Jesus.

A rainbow--God's visible sign of His promise--cascaded over Prince's house yesterday