Mary DeTurris Poust's Blog, page 29

‘Broken, Beautiful, and Beloved’ retreat day May 9

I’ll be offering a one-day retreat at the Mariandale Retreat and Conference Center in Ossining, N.Y., this spring on my favorite topic these days: “Broken Beautiful, and Beloved: Learning to see ourselves through God’s eyes.” The day will include a talk, lunch, some quiet time, a chance to journal and/or try out collage as a form of prayer and contemplation, and group discussion. Here are the details from the website: 

Broken, Beautiful, and Beloved 

So often we imagine that in order to be loved we must become better, different, perfect. But what if the things we think need to be “fixed” in order to make us more lovable – flaws and weaknesses, mistakes and sins – are the very things that make us beautiful in our own way? Can we learn to see our brokenness as a beauty mark instead of a scar? During this retreat day, we’ll try to remove the filters that color our vision and see ourselves as God does – wonderfully made, imperfections and all. After a morning talk and lunch, we’ll take some quiet time for reflection, followed by a journaling exercise and a group discussion to explore the ways we can begin to see our brokenness, not as a problem to be solved, but as a truth to be honored. We are all broken, beautiful, and beloved. Please bring a journal and a writing instrument for afternoon exercises.

Presenter: Mary DeTurris Poust

Saturday, May 9

10:00 am – 3:30 pm

Fee: $75 – $95 (as you are able) includes lunch

Here’s the link for the registration form, or register by phone at 914-941-4455. If you want to attend but are having any issues at all with the online form, please email me through this site and I’ll contact the retreat center for you and facilitate your registration.

Peace and All Good. I hope to see you in early May.

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Irene’s Irish Soda Bread

Every year I run this post because so many people want my mother’s Irish Soda Bread recipe. Here it is again, in time for tomorrow’s breakfast in honor of St. Patrick’s Day.

Keep in mind that this bread must be slathered in butter. Not butter substitute, but real, artery-clogging butter. Enjoy!

4 cups flour

3 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. salt

1/2 tsp. baking soda

1 cup seedless raisins (soak in hot water for a few minutes to soften, then drain)

1 Tbs. caraway seeds (optional)

1 1/3 cups buttermilk (more if it feels too dry, my measure is closer to 1 2/3 cups)

1/4 cup Crisco (I’ve experimented with other shortening but came back to this)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Sift flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda into bowl.

Stir in raisins and caraway seeds, if using.

Add buttermilk and Crisco. Mix. Knead just enough to moisten dry ingredients. Shape into two mounds and place on a greased cookie sheet. Cut an X into the top of each loaf. Makes two loaves.

Bake at 350 for 45-50 minutes. Cool on a wire rack. Cut into wedges or slices to serve.

Hint: Do not try “adapting” this recipe to make it healthier or lighter. I have tried bread flour. I have tried whole wheat flour. Nothing comes close to the real deal.

Note: Yes, I realize the Irish Soda Bread diehards would scoff at this with its raisins and all. This is how we do it/did it in my house.

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Latin Mass: I’m more Ordinary than I suspected

Latin Mass in the Extraordinary Form has been something I’ve always wanted to experience and assumed I would love. I am a Catholic who revels in the traditions and rituals of the faith. I love candles and stained glass, incense and statues. I attribute a lot of that to the fact that I was raised in what I like to call the “Era of the Collage.” By the time I got to CCD class, as it was known back then, tradition and catechism had gone out the window, only to be replaced with gluing and pasting pictures of a smiling Jesus and the word “love” on construction paper week after week. I hungered for the “bells and smells” of the past, something that was a staple in the faith of my family of origin. (My godfather still goes to weekly Latin Mass in Virginia, so this stuff is in my DNA.)

This weekend I finally got my chance to step back in time and experience the Mass as it once was, when Bishop Edward Scharfenberger of Albany celebrated Latin Mass in the Extraordinary Form for more than 300 people at the Cathedral of the Immaculate Conception.

As we waited for Mass to start, we watched families filing in, many of the women and girls wearing head coverings and quite a few men and women carrying missals. The already magnificent cathedral was even more beautiful with the altar set with a row of large candles and an ancient-looking Latin sacramentary.

Mass itself was an education for me; it’s really something I think every post-Vatican II Catholic should experience at least once, if only to understand the history of the Mass and perhaps why it was so difficult for many people to accept the changes. And why the changes were made in the first place. What a dramatic shift for adult Catholics of the 1960s. It’s hard for me to imagine what it must have been like to go to this form of the Latin Mass for most of your life and then walk into church one week and find everything — from the language to the altar arrangement to the form of the Mass — changed, even if the substance remained the same.

Although I found the Mass to be beautiful and somewhat mysterious (in a good way), I have to admit that I felt a spiritual disconnect. I have no problem whatsoever with the priest facing away from the congregation. I’ve been to Masses celebrated that way in Rome and actually kind of like it. But in the Extraordinary Form, the celebrant spends so much of the Mass praying quietly to himself in Latin that it felt as if I was intruding on someone else’s private prayer. Even during the Eucharistic Prayer, I didn’t know the moment of consecration had arrived until I heard the bells. I suddenly understood why so many Catholics prayed the Rosary throughout Mass back in the day; there is so much silent time when congregants are just sitting or kneeling in anticipation of the one line or half-line they are allowed to say that people must have needed something to fill that void. It was either say a Rosary or risk getting caught up in a daydream or looking around the church. There may be those Catholics who are so adept at silent contemplation that perhaps they are able to enter into that place in the midst of the Latin Mass, but I have not yet reached that spiritual plane. I found myself struggling to stay connected and thankful, after all, that I am a post-Vatican II Catholic.

I was so grateful for the thoughtful homily delivered by Bishop Scharfenberger, giving me a few minutes to reconnect, and for the recessional hymn — in English and familiar. Yes, it was all very beautiful but it was also all very foreign. I have new respect for St. Pope John XXIII for having the courage to initiate the changes that led to a Mass that is so much more accessible. I found myself frustrated that not only wasn’t I able to say the Our Father in Latin, only the last piece of the last line was ours to say. And even at Communion, kneeling and received on the tongue for the first time in a very long time, I was not able to say “Amen.” It made me feel like an outsider looking in, and I’m not used to feeling that way in church.

I think it’s wonderful that the popes of our day allow this Mass to be celebrated — and that it was celebrated in a diocesan cathedral by a bishop, a rarity these days — but I now know that my Catholic feet are firmly planted in the spiritual here and now. My brief time travel back into our Catholic past was interesting and enlightening, but there’s a reason we shouldn’t live in the past permanently, and there’s a reason things change with time. I try to imagine the world born of the 1960s, 70s and beyond co-existing with this liturgy, and what I see instead is an even greater hemorrhaging of Catholics than we experienced at the time. The Extraordinary Form may be beautiful in its exterior trappings and historical importance, but perhaps it is too extraordinary for ordinary Catholics who want to be fed in a way that speaks to them — both literally and figuratively — and challenges them to become active participants in the liturgy and the everyday faith that grows out of the Eucharistic experience.

I am grateful that my family fostered in me an appreciation for the traditions of our faith. While I made felt banners and homemade hosts as the teen-age president of CYO at my parish, I also attended daily Mass and prayed novenas and rosaries. I grew up with a blend of old and new, and I think that’s a good thing. To this day I prefer a Mass that includes the Greek Kyrie Eleison and the Latin Agnus Dei right alongside a St. Louis Jesuits song. In fact, Dennis has been instructed to make sure Agnus Dei is sung at my funeral Mass, whenever that is. And Panis Angelicus. I will always appreciate the traditions of our Catholic past, but I am ever so grateful for the reality of our Catholic present.

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Mindfulness: It’s not just for Buddhists

I was featured in a story on mindfulness that’s running in the Catholic Courier of Rochester this week, so I thought I would take a few minutes to talk about this favorite spiritual topic of mine. I said a lot more than was quoted in the piece (not unusual given newspaper word counts), which also featured a Trappist monk from the Abbey of the Genesee, one of my favorite retreat places. If you’re a long-time reader of this blog, you know that my journey into mindfulness (and sometimes back out of mindfulness when I’m getting sloppy or lazy) started with my “mindful oatmeal” practice from years ago and blossomed into two books related to the practice of mindfulness in daily prayer and daily life. With each step forward on this path, I become more convinced that this is the way to inner peace and a deeper relationship with God. And when I stray from that path everything becomes slightly out of balance and more frenetic. 

Mindfulness sometimes gets a bad rap in Catholic circles. Not in my Catholic circles but in others swirling around out there, sometimes loudly. Some Catholics want to say mindfulness is not compatible with our faith because of its obvious connections to Buddhism. And to them I say: Look at the long and beautiful history of Catholic monasticism, and there you will find the very definition of mindfulness. Every hour, every day, every season, every action set to the rhythm of prayer. It doesn’t get more mindful than that.

As I have said in books and blog posts and interviews, when I think of mindfulness from the Catholic perspective, I think, “God is in the details.” When we look closely at the mundane moments of daily life and do things with attention and intention, we discover the divine right where we are. God is in the line at the grocery store. God is in the dishes in the sink. God is in the laundry piled to overflowing. God is in the crocus pushing up through the cold, hard ground.

Of course, none of that makes mindfulness easy. In our fast-paced world, multitasking is seen as a badge of honor, so going against the grain and doing only one thing at a time takes effort. We need reminders and prompts to get us into the habit of mindfulness. For me those prompts come in the form sounds and visuals. I have an hourly chime that rings on my office computer. Every time it chimes, I say the one-line Jesus Prayer until the bells stops reverberating: “Lord Jesus Christ, son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” So short but so powerful. I have a prayer card from the Abbey of the Genesee hanging over my coffee maker as a morning reminder to pray. I have crosses, saint statues, Rosary beads, lotus flowers, seashells, Mary statues and icons and paintings in almost every room, and yes, even a Buddha statue. All of these things serve as exterior reminders of the peace I need to cultivate within. I have a specific sacred space in my office, one small spot with a cushion and a prayer bench for those times I want to sit or kneel in dedicated prayer or silence. And although all of this sounds wonderful, it doesn’t mean I always make time for prayer or always remember to be mindful, but even when I’m not so successful all of those visual signs and symbols keep pulling me back to my center and reminding me to focus on God, and that is the beginning of mindfulness for me.

Here are more mindfulness resources from this blog. Click on the titles to go to these posts:

A bowl of oatmeal as spiritual practice

Mindfulness minus the monastery

Changing your meals from mindless to mindful

Mindfulness bell: the sound of silence

Everyday Divine (various posts related to mindfulness and everyday spirituality)

And don’t forget to head over to the Catholic Courier for the story on mindfulness by Amy Kotlarz. Click HERE for that.

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In fear I faced the real question: “Why not me?”

I am typically a “Why me?” sort of person — when my computer crashes, when a recipe flops, when I come home from the store without the one thing I went there to get. So you can only imagine how I might kick that attitude up a notch when something significant is at stake. But last week, when my 18-year-old son, Noah, was facing the possibility of serious and permanent heart damage, when we had no control and no way to help him as we watched him suffer through painful attacks, the “Why me?” slowly started shifting to another place.

Operating on a couple of days without sleep, I drove home from the hospital in a fog last Sunday morning, hoping to grab a short nap and check on our girls while Noah rested in the Critical Care Unit with Dennis at his side. I drove through the cold, slushy streets of Albany with hot, salty tears running down my face, begging God, “Please don’t take my baby.” By the time I got home, I was no longer silently begging; I was loudly screaming. And then somewhere in the midst of it came the slow, creeping acknowledgment that despite my crying and carrying on, I had no right to expect an escape from the harshness of life. Suddenly all that kept running through my head was, “Why not me?”

I found some sort of strange solace there, a serenity that created a calm in the eye of my storm. I think it was due to all the prayer requests I had posted on Facebook and sent out by email and text. As I received message after message from people all over the map, I could feel myself growing stronger and my fears growing weaker. Yes, I was still afraid for Noah, and I was still running through the mental laundry list of “what ifs,” but underneath it all was a steadiness grounded in the fact that I was not special, that I shouldn’t expect to be spared the suffering so many others endure. I could feel strength surging up from that place, a willingness to acknowledge things might not turn out exactly as planned and that we would move forward anyway, standing alongside Noah as he faced whatever difficult thing might come his way.

Fortunately the tipping point in Noah’s case shifted in our favor and after a scary few days we were told he would make a full recovery. I could feel myself exhaling for what seemed like the first time in four days. Not long after this positive turn, his Critical Care nurse said, “You’re so calm. You’re really handling this so well.” I smiled at her, but on the inside I was laughing, because anyone who knows me would not put the words “calm” and “Mary” in the same sentence during a crisis.  Efficient and determined, yes, but calm? Not so much. And, again, I felt the blessing of all the prayers from around the world. I never thought those prayers would guarantee a positive outcome for Noah, because I know from experience that prayer doesn’t always get you what you want, like some kind of heavenly vending machine that sends down the spiritual equivalent of a Twix bar on request. But I did know the prayers would help us — Dennis and Noah and me — as we faced the toughest few days of our lives.

Our recent brush with our son’s mortality forced me to stand on the other side of the “Why me?” equation, to see that we were not singled out in this suffering but rather firmly entrenched with so many others in facing the reality of our frail and sometimes broken humanity. The Lord gives and the Lord takes away. I am saying unending prayers of thanksgiving that in this case the Lord kept giving, that in the dark winter of Noah’s illness came the light of spring.

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Healing hearts, medical marvels, the power of prayer

It has been a long five days, and we thank all of you for being there with us. We believe with all our hearts that you made a difference — for Noah and for us. We are overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayers, love, and support we have received from family, friends, and complete strangers both close to home and around the world. I have been getting emails, text messages, Facebook messages, Twitter messages, and phone calls from people who want to pray and help in any way they can. So let me tell you a little bit of what happened to land my son, Noah, 18, in the Critical Care Unit at St. Peter’s Hospital earlier this week. 

At 2 a.m. on Saturday morning, Noah came into our bedroom complaining of chest pains. Thinking it was nothing more than indigestion or some other minor problem, we weren’t very worried, until a few minutes later when he said the pain was radiating to his jaw and left arm. At that point Dennis started preparing to go to the ER while I made Noah chew up low-dose aspirin in case he was having a heart attack. Still assuming it was something minor, I expected them to be home from ER in a couple of hours. Instead Dennis called to say Noah was being admitted to the cardiology unit with the likely diagnosis being pericarditis, inflammation of the sac surrounding the heart, and myocarditis, inflammation of the heart muscle itself — something that can cause permanent damage to the heart, congestive heart failure, and even death. All signs point to a viral infection brought on by his bout with the flu about four weeks ago (and, yes, he had a flu shot).

Life suddenly became surreal and scary, and I find it amazing how we managed to put one foot in front of the other and do what we had to do. If someone had told me a week ago that we would face what we faced, I would have said I couldn’t get through it. But there we were — sleeping in hospital lounge chairs, watching our son grit his teeth in absolute pain, listening to doctors rattle off a spectrum of outcomes that ranged from complete recovery on one extreme to heart transplant on the other, with plenty of really bad stuff in between.

Although the best hope on Saturday was that Noah’s condition had peaked and would start improving, on Sunday morning things went in the wrong direction with enzyme levels rising to the danger zone. That’s when I started posting prayer requests on Facebook. We cannot count the number of people who have been praying for Noah. We know it is in the thousands, and we are speechless over it. On Sunday morning, when things were not looking so good, the prayers and support that started pouring in lifted us up and gave us strength when we didn’t think we could face Noah without crying.

Prayer is not a magic bullet. We did not believe for one minute that just because people were praying Noah would be spared any permanent damage. Prayer doesn’t work that way. What it did do was link us to a larger community and make us feel less alone. And while we never stopped praying — probably not for one minute — all of those other prayers let us focus our energy on Noah because we knew so many people were taking up his cause in prayer. We have often said that living in the Capital Region is hard because we have no family nearby and, therefore, no support. These past five days have taught us that we have more support than we ever could have imagined. We feel so incredibly blessed.

It was not long after your prayers started pouring in that Noah’s condition started to improve dramatically, and I do not for one second think that was coincidence. To have thousands of friends and strangers focusing all of their spiritual and positive energy on our son made all the difference in our lives. I felt stronger. I know Dennis did as well. And because we were stronger, we were able to be a comfort to Noah and an advocate for Noah.

Of course, no amount of prayer could have saved Noah if he had not been in the care of some incredible doctors and nurses, starting with the cardiology fellow, Dr. Tariq Bhat, who happened to be on call in ER the night Noah was admitted. Noah’s pediatrician, Dr. Todd Giombetti, who was checking in with us constantly and conferring with Noah’s hospital doctors throughout, referred to Dr. Bhat as Noah’s “guardian angel,” saying that had we taken Noah to a different hospital or had there been another doctor on that night, Noah most likely would not have been given the test that showed so quickly what was causing his distress. Dr. Bhat is not yet a certified cardiologist, but he is an incredible heart doctor, as far as we are concerned. His fast diagnosis and his insistence first that Noah be admitted to cardio and the next night that he be moved to Critical Care were big factors, we believe, in Noah’s incredibly positive outcome. In addition to the medical care he provided, however, he also served as a reassuring presence to Dennis and me. He continued to remind us that we needed to remain calm for Noah.

On top of that, the cardiologist who was assigned to Noah, Dr. John Filippone, was beyond excellent. We had heard he was one of the best in the area, and now we know that is absolutely the case. He nailed down the details of Noah’s condition quickly, gave us all the information we needed — even when it was hard to hear — and did absolutely everything necessary to make sure nothing was missed. You often hear how hard it is to get a hold of doctors when you are in the hospital and need information. That was not the case with Dr. Filippone. I’m not sure when he sleeps because he seemed to be in CCU constantly, caring for Noah and a number of patients in even worse condition. We heard “code blue” over the intercom at least three times when we were there. And when he wasn’t in CCU, he was in the heart failure clinic or his own practice. We have new appreciation for just how hard these doctors work, and we are grateful that Dr. Filippone worked so hard to make Noah well so quickly. If you need a heart doctor, he’s your guy.

I’m sure people see Noah’s photo here (taken just after he came home yesterday) or on Facebook and may assume that maybe his condition wasn’t as bad as we led you all to believe. It was bad. Worse than what we led you to believe. He had three separate episodes over 24 hours that mimic a heart attack in terms of pain. On a scale of 1 to 10, he was at 10. It would take up to an hour for medication to relieve that pain. Noah was so strong and brave as he suffered through that while they tried to figure out what combination of meds would get things under control. I am so grateful that his doctors managed to figure it out so quickly.

While the doctors get much of the obvious praise for Noah’s treatment, we remain in awe of the nurses who cared for him. They were ever-present, top-notch, comforting, and kind. They didn’t just stay on top of Noah’s vitals and meds but made sure we had food or blankets or coffee. We would like to especially thank the two Laurens in cardiology, and Marie F., Julia, Kathryn, and Maria from Critical Care. A special thanks also to Trish, the phlebotomist, and Josh, the last echocardiogram tech we saw before discharge. There are too many others to thank by name, but we are so grateful to the entire staff of St. Peter’s. We could not have asked for better care.

And that goes for spiritual care as well. The pastoral ministry Noah received at St. Peter’s was so beautiful and comforting. Within hours of being admitting to cardiology, Sister Mary Frederick Coyne, SNJM, the former principal of St. Thomas the Apostle School in Delmar and former pastoral minister at our parish, came by to pray over Noah, not because she knew him but because he happened to be on her list of Catholic patients to visit. Later that day our former pastor, Father David Berberian, came to the hospital at a moment’s notice to anoint Noah. The next day Bishop Edward Scharfenberger of Albany came by to pray with us and anoint Noah again. The pastoral care person from St. Thomas the Apostle parish, Maura Barrett, also visited to check on us, to let us know our parish was praying for Noah, and to offer meals. On top of that the hospital chaplain, Father John Tallman, brought Noah Communion and visited him several times, as did an additional chaplain whose name we never got. And I can’t forget my Cornerstone sisters who showed up in St. Peter’s chapel on Sunday afternoon specifically to pray the Rosary for Noah, and also a parish friend who came to Mass at St. Peter’s on Monday to do the same. We are stunned by all of it, and realize what a powerful faith community we are blessed to be a part of.

And as for all of you, what can we say? Again, there are too many to name individually here, but we will be in touch over the next few days and weeks to thank you personally. Meals were dropped off, left on our doorstep, ordered from restaurants and delivered. People from all over town and from every area of our lives offered to take our kids — and some of you did for more than one night! — drive the girls around, drive us around, do whatever we needed. Even if we didn’t end up needing your help, knowing you were there made all the difference to us. We cannot possibly express our gratitude adequately. I suggested that once Noah is fully recovered we’ll have an open house party to thank all of you and celebrate our many blessings. We’ll keep you posted on that.

Noah is home and resting right now. They say his heart will fully recover from this. He has a crazy regimen of medicine for the next few months. I’ve got an entire notebook devoted to it so we don’t miss anything. Because Dr. Kristina Roddy — Noah’s excellent infectious disease specialist — cannot completely rule out the possibility that Noah’s condition was caused by the strep throat he was battling at the time and the slim chance of rheumatic fever, he will be on antibiotics for the next TEN YEARS. Yup, you read that right. It is a preventative measure to ensure that he never gets strep throat again because, if he does, it could do serious damage to his heart. Better safe than sorry, especially when taking penicillin twice a day for ten years seems like a terrific outcome given the other options.

So thank you, thank you, thank you for your prayers, your support, your love, and your concern. We will be forever grateful.

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Prayers for my son, please – UPDATED

UPDATE (3/3/15): Noah’s MRI showed no damage to his heart valves or pumping function due to the inflammation in his heart (myocarditis). He still has a long way to go and is still in the Critical Care Unit, but this is a huge step forward in terms of his recovery. Please keep praying for him — and us. We can feel the prayers of so many people pouring over us. It has made this difficult journey much easier to face.

———

My 18-year-old son, Noah, is in critical care at St. Peter’s Hospital in Albany with heart problems due to a viral infection. Over the weekend an incredible network of prayer warriors over on Facebook has been spreading our prayer intention for Noah far and wide, something I’ll tell you about in more detail at a later date, but I realized there was one group of prayer warriors I hadn’t yet tapped: my NSS followers who are not on social media. So here I am.

Please pray for Noah and for our family. At the time, he is stable but things are still precarious. We are hoping more tests today — a cardio MRI and another echocardiogram — will help the doctors better assess his condition and future treatment. We know there is some weakening of his heart, so we are praying that it does not increase and is not permanent. If you could pray with us, I would be so grateful.

Thank you. I will update the blog again when we have more news. Peace and love, Mary

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Lent: How are you doing one week into the journey? Listen now for encouragement from yours truly

We’re one week into our season of Lent. How have you been doing with your plans to sacrifice more, give more, pray more? I have to admit, I’m doing just okay. I need a little more work in the prayer department, for sure. (My daughter gave me some encouragement by leaving this random Lenten Post-it note over my desk. Thanks, Liv!)

I talked about all of this over on the Morning Air Show on Relevant Radio this week. If you missed the show yesterday, you can listen here today. I’m up first, so you can just click play and my interview will come up right after the intro.

http://relevantradio.streamguys.us/MA%20Archive/MA20150224a.mp3

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Changing your meals from mindless to mindful

It’s not just what we eat but how we eat. During Lent, when so many of us are making food-related sacrifices, from fasting regularly to giving up favorite treats, it’s a good time to take a closer look at the method to our mealtime madness. Do we watch TV while we eat? Check email or Facebook? Argue with our kids? Stand at the counter? Fish our hand into a take-out bag as we drive?

The first step to developing a healthy relationship with food and turning our meals into moving meditations is to become more mindful about everything surrounding our meals, from the foods we choose, to the atmosphere around us, to our mealtime conversations and habits.

Today I’ve got the perfect little bonus for those of you looking to use this time of Lenten reflection to get a better handle on your meals and your mindfulness. Ave Maria Press has created the beautiful bookmark you see on the right, giving you the Cliff Note’s version of how to transform meals into meditations. Keep it in your favorite book, or, even better, post in on the fridge where it’s more likely to hit you at the exact right time. Leave one in your car or at your desk if you tend to eat on the go or while you work.

You can download the bookmarks here in sets of two or five. Print them out for your personal use or for use with a group of like-minded friends. Support is always good when it comes to battling food issues!

Cravings set of five bookmarks

Cravings set of two bookmarks

If you’d like to take this to a deeper level, check out my book Cravings: A Catholic Wrestles with Food, Self-Image, and God, which offers a thorough look at the connection between food and spirituality as well as practical exercises to get you moving in the right direction.

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Manic Monday: Our main goal is staying warm

It’s a Lenten Manic Monday, and it’s going to be a cold one. We’re starting at 12 degrees and working our way down to -11 by end of today. That’s -11 without any windchill. Why did we leave Texas again? It will be a busy week here at the Poust House both personally and professionally, but here’s what went down over the past few days. Hint: It included lots of sledding, as you tell by the photo over there on the left. That’s me coming down the big hill near our house.

Menu: We prepared for Lent with Fat Tuesday pancakes at the kids’ request. There’s something especially fun about breakfast for dinner. We added in some bacon since Noah said he was going vegetarian for all of Lent except Sundays. The rest of us decided to join him in that endeavor. Well, Olivia was already there, but Dennis, Chiara and I signed on for that sacrifice as well. Chiara did it under duress and was given permission to eat meat at school when she buys lunch. I think eating school cafeteria meat ranks as a sacrifice all on its own.

Here are our yummy Mardi Gras pancakes, made with Kate’s Real Buttermilk, our favorite for pancakes and Irish soda bread:

We followed that up on Ash Wednesday by breaking our fast with loads of veggies over linguini, and we rounded out the week with vegetarian split pea soup, mushroom and onion quesadillas, and vegetarian penne a la vodka for the kids on Saturday while Dennis and I had sole Francaise at Milestone Restaurant for our weekly date night.

Bookshelf: This week I’ve got a few books going at once, which is never good because it means I’ll remember nothing. I’m simultaneously reading Home-Based Business for Dummies because I’m trying to expand my reach, as well as Adult Faith: Growing in Wisdom and Understanding because I’m taking a class at my parish during Lent. In between I’m looking at guidebooks to Italy because I’m thinking about leading another pilgrimage next year.

However, because I never seem to finish any book, I recently purchased Read More Books Now by Brandon Vogt, a 10-video course with bonus materials to help me read faster and retain more. Just started that, so check back in a couple of days for more on how that’s going. But, if you’re interested in checking it out right now, click HERE. If you purchase it by Thursday of this week, you’ll get it on sale with the bonus material, so don’t wait.

Viewfinder: Lots of fun things going on this week thanks to my children. Here’s Chiara attempting to snowboard using a regular sled. (We’ve promised to get her real snowboard lessons, if not this winter then next.) She’s pretty good, and she’s a daredevil, so I think she’ll be a natural.

And here’s my little snow bunny up close. Too cute:

As you know from earlier this week (if you stop by NSS regularly), Olivia is leaving positive post-its in random places as part of her Lenten practice. Yesterday morning we came down to the kitchen to find the one below. We also spied her leaving a “You are wonderful” note inside a worship aid at church. I love these kids.

We capped off our weekend with a winter martini in our Oval Office glasses that we found in an antique store on South Congress in Austin years ago. Austin — where it’s warm right now, or at least not -11 degrees. Did I mention that I’m not sure why we ever left? Sigh.

 

GPS: We head back out to SUNY Oneonta this week with Noah for a Scholars’ Day event. It’s on his short list of possible college choices along with Siena, Le Moyne, and possibly SUNY Geneseo, if they ever get to sending those acceptances out (March, we hear).

Soundtrack: Heard this on The Coffeehouse on SiriusXM this week and went directly to iTunes to buy it. Check it out:

The post Manic Monday: Our main goal is staying warm appeared first on Not Strictly Spiritual.