Leila Marie Lawler's Blog, page 65

Checking in.

I’m going to check in with you on Thursday for sharing some contentment in {pretty, happy, funny, real} — why not join us? It’s summer and it’s hard to get to blogging, which honestly, is fine. You don’t mind, do you? And maybe joining us will give you an excuse to update things chez vous!

I’m trying to think about which of the many burning topics I want to get to here.

Many sweet readers have been emailing me about homeschooling, and I will definitely answer some of those questions, but don’t forget that we have many posts (labeled “education” for the most part) that you should read to know what I actually think about “how to do it.” It’s not something I can really cover in an emailed response! It’s more of a “fine, I’ll start a blog!” type of issue… which I did….

…but meanwhile, some painting needs to get done. Are you not super curious as to what we did in here? (By we I mean Bridget, of course.) Just in a wondering-when-you’d-get-to-that-sort of way?

Just keep this “before” (which is more of a “during” — I’m not usually this messy I think!) in mind:

 

I feel the need for a new chandelier, but the one I want might be too pricey. Maybe I’ll spray paint this one.

Saturday we went to a lovely wedding, and managed to do what somehow never gets done — photos of the two of us while we are all dressed up, before the wilting of the hot August day sets in!

 

Do you not love that there is still that rope around that tree for no earthly reason?!?

{bits & pieces}

The regular “little of this, little of that” feature here at Like Mother, Like Daughter!

I finally got around to tackling the worst of my grody window frames last weekend. If these photos make any sense to you (and I will understand if they don’t), you can see that this window is positioned just a little over a lower roof. It is the roof that hangs over the front porch/stoop. When rain falls, it bounces off of that roof and splashes into this window, carrying with it the filth that resides on that surface.

I know that the “After” photo isn’t even all that glowing an example of cleanliness. But please know that I had to approach this many-faceted spot with many paper towels, a bowl of warm soapy water (frequently replaced and eventually upgraded to Borax), q-tips, and a rag that was subsequently thrown away. I have no idea when these frames were last cleaned, but I can tell you that it was sometime previous to last fall when we moved in. I guess that the grout in those corners probably was originally white; I’m not sure if I have it in me to get rid of the black stains. Maybe on a second go-around – but there are other windows to see to in the meantime!

If you look closely at the top photo, you will note something that looks like a bar and is in fact part of the handle of my Swiffer. And yes, it is propping the window open. Old house problems.

I happen to know that I’m not the only person who has removed a unit of her Swiffer handle in order to have the Swiffer be toddler height (looking at you, Rosie). When Finnabee was at the age to really start getting excited about sweeping, we were also just getting things hung up on the walls around here. I quickly realized that none of my wall art would last long with that broom handle careening around in her little grip. So a shortened Swiffer was the answer.

This week’s links!

I get this one on here right off the bat: Expecting Baby #7 And I’m Finally Tired of This. I’m leading with this one because it’s this week’s most intense and hard-hitting. Auntie Leila shared it, saying “I don’t normally like to post rants here but this one I liked.”


On the same site (as the above), you can read an interview that she (Auntie Leila) gave with Heidi Bock.


The Lion Sleeps Tonight. There’s been a great deal of back-and-forth about the Lion story v/s the Planned Parenthood story in the past few days, but this short piece from Crisis Magazine is rising above the chatter – probably because it gives the perspective of G.K. Chesterton, who always helps us see things clearly.


Vaguely related: 14 Things Everyone Should Understand About Guns. I recognize that not all our readers may be enthusiastic about firearms, and I understand that. But I think, no matter your particular feelings on the topic, you should read this. It is helpful information that will help you to be the kind of person who can not only contribute to the national conversation about guns but also contribute to national safety regarding guns.


And on a very much lighter note, speaking of animals: you might enjoy the tumblr sadanimalfacts if you like animal-related wit in dry/cute cartoon form.


We have strong feelings about the post-partum period here at LMLD (yay to Peabodee and me! we just finished our 4th trimester!). I was a fan of How to Postpartum Like a Boss from the Fike Life. We endorse her approach for sure.

{The onnnllly thing I would disagree with here – and this is a minor point – my personal opinion is that you should ditch the ipad for a book while snuggling. The jury is still out on whether the ipad might not be the best thing for you to hold near your newborn’s tender little head, and a book will be less distracting anyway and less likely to keep you awake if you might be able to get a nap. In my first post-partum week with Peabodee I re-read Mara, Daughter of the Nile , which was an excellent lazy read. I’m surprised it hasn’t been made into a movie yet, because it reads like one!}

From the Archives:

You’ll recall that Auntie Leila recently wrote about the post-partum period.


And I included other post-partum-related articles in this {b&p}!


Practical tips for avoiding and solving thrush while nursing.


Tomorrow I’ll tell you a secret. Today I’ll tell you about chicken taco salad. (This is reaching further back into the past, so the formatting is a little wonky! :)

In the Liturgical Year:

Memorial of St. Alphonsus Liguori!

 

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{pretty, happy, funny, real}

~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~

Every Thursday, here at Like Mother, Like Daughter!

{pretty}

The kids and I popped into TJ Maxx yesterday with one real goal: to find a tray to corral the pieces of our little oratory in our living room where we say prayers at night. I was so excited to find this beautiful one –turquoise, orange, white painted Indian design… it’s the most Rosie-ish tray I could possibly imagine. I love it so.

In point of fact, it might actually be a little bit busy for this purpose, but no matter. If I ever find a simpler one that I love as much, then I’m sure I’ll have no problem finding another spot for this colorful beauty.

We have jam jars for our candles because I didn’t have two pretty votive holders, and we need two candles for deep spiritual reasons because we have two candle-snuffing-aged children. I actually really like the look of the candles in the jars — they glow so prettily! — but they do take up more space. And the snuffer needs its own little tray because we haven’t quite mastered putting out the candles without getting wax all over. Plus the jar of matches and the little vase for spent ones… Who knew you needed so much stuff to light a few candles each night?

{happy}

{funny}

I could use some tips from Molly on pulling off the “disheveled chic” look.

(Or maybe I just need Mary to choose clothes for me, too! Thank you for the adorable dress!)

What is going on here? I’ll tell you. It’s a very thoughtful arrangement of our globes, her babies, and all the silverware except the knives (which her brother told her were too sharp).

Of course.

When this task was completed to her satisfaction, she gathered up all the utensils and put them in the blanket basket. Except for the ones she tried to take to bed with her for naptime.

I love toddlers.

{real}

What percentage of kiddie-pool time would you estimate is generally spent in tossing/pouring things out of the pool?

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Is it scary to form a St. Greg’s Pocket? Some tips and a request.

Is there currently a St. Greg’s Pocket in your area? (Have you checked the list?)

Maybe you already have a good group of friends. The type of friends who are connected to each other by locality, by shared interest… most importantly, by shared goals in life and the willingness to look out for each other?

I needed this kind of group when I was single and I needed it when I was a bride. I need it even more now that I have kids. We all need people to rely on, no matter our place in life!

I have been so blessed with the group of families I’ve been making contact with here in Manchester, since we moved here last Fall! My Pocket has been such a blessing for me, for my husband, and for the kids.

At first, since I was new in town, I didn’t jump right on top of making a St. Greg’s Pocket. I thought maybe there was already a moms’ group, and I did have a few friends here already who welcomed us and connected us with some other like-minded folks.

But after some time, and especially in the midst of a very long winter, I decided that even with the lovely communities already in place here, perhaps there might also be a use for a Pocket — something that could bridge the lines of our Catholic parishes and include other Christian ladies as well. So I went ahead and formed the Facebook group and got it started. I emailed a few people I was close to and explained it to them and asked them to spread the word – and they did! (I know – I’m really lucky.)

Five months after “officially” kicking off, we have 45 members in the group. Now, we haven’t all met (yet) and no one get-together has included more than about 12 ladies. Not everyone is equally interested. But hey – there are a few dozen people I am in touch with that way, and that means a lot to me! There is a little core of us who have been enjoying getting together frequently and getting to know each other. At the very least, we’ve been helping each other get out of the house!

Here are a few thoughts on what has worked for our Pocket:

1. State a time and place. If everyone posts on the Pocket Facebook page to say “would anyone like to meet at the pool?” or “I’d like to meet you all!” everyone else will just smile at their screens and state their agreement… and nothing will happen. Instead, just throw an event on there and say you’ll be there and ask others to be there too.

Especially if you can do this on a consistent basis (for us it’s been Wednesday mornings for the most part), you will make it easier for others to join. We all find ourselves saying, “oh, I wasn’t ready this week – but I could make it next week,” right? (Of course if you’ve just picked a day that doesn’t work for the other Pocket members, then you need to adjust that.)

2. Include food. For our first get-together, which I hosted, I asked ladies to bring a treat to share. I prepped a few things and some tea and everyone generously contributed and suddenly there was an abundance of food! Honestly, it just made it more fun. Food is fun. It’s easier to connect over food.

The next time around, I said to bring something to share “if so inclined,” and tried to dial it back a little. Those who were able brought something, and those who didn’t have the time didn’t, and it all worked out such that there was still plenty – a little something for the ladies, a little something for the kids…

Sometimes there were just a few of us, so we just munched on a very simple snack and had tea. We didn’t need to get fancy, we just needed to extend some graciousness to each other to help break the ice.

3. If possible, meet outside. I loved having ladies over to The Chesternest for a weekly visit, but there are only so many people my apartment can fit and only so much corralling of littles that we could manage while also enjoying ourselves. It wasn’t the best environment for the bigger families in the group, either.

Once we were able to get out of doors, things really started to take off. Meeting at the park and the playground – where kids can mind their own business and get energy out and there’s less social pressure, as it’s neutral turf – has been awesome. And even if the day doesn’t work out for everyone’s schedule and it turns out to be just a small group or just a couple ladies or even just you… well, it’s the playground, so you can still enjoy the swings!

For our playground meet-ups, we haven’t been doing the food-sharing. We just pack our own kids snacks and arrive and depart on a more relaxed basis.

We’ve been able to get meals to each other when they were needed, share prayer requests, give tips on where to take the kids for day trips, and more.

I already have ideas for when the weather cools down again and we need to retreat indoors. Now that many of us have been able to meet and we’ve gotten a little established as a group, I look forward to doing some reading and discussing with these friends. These things take time…

Has it been scary to start a St. Greg’s Pocket? In my case, no – but I know I’ve had it easy. I did enter a lovely community of ladies; the Pocket has just been a new way to get those ladies together. And I know that I’m the type of personality that thrives on getting people together and organizing events, etc.

If this does not suit your personality or if you are looking at a very dull landscape in terms of like-minded souls in your area, then you may have more challenges ahead.

Still, I think you should go for it – if you haven’t already – because I think it’ll be worth it. And you should keep at it if you’ve already gotten a start!

Another few thoughts:

Maybe you already have your circle of friends and you’re feeling all set. Even so, would you consider getting those friends together to formulate into a Pocket that can be posted here and made searchable to other readers? There might be a neighbor – someone who is in your vicinity and is like-minded – who doesn’t know that you’re there and really does need you.

Also, for you more experienced moms: please know that young moms and young women without kids want to meet you and be with your families! Those of us who are starting out family life need to be around those of you who are further down the road, and it can be hard to break into your sphere sometimes. We want to learn by your example and have our little kids mingle with your bigger kids… we need your collective memory! There is no age limit – high or low – for Pocket activity!

As my mom mentioned, we would love to see your Pockets in action! So here is our proposal:

– Organize a get-together (at least just one!) by the end of the summer. Fit one in by September 7 (Labor Day). Summer really is easier!

– Snap a photo of you and your other Pocket people. Your living room, your local petting zoo, your beach; whether it’s two of your or twenty of you, whether it’s all moms or couples… whatever it is! Just say “ok let’s get a photo for those pushy LMLD ladies” and then take it. (Yes, one from before will work too, if the summer finds your Pocket on the back burner until everyone gets back from vacation.)

– Send us your photo and we will post it on the blog! We want to see you, and we think that seeing you will give others encouragement as well! Just send your photo to LMLDblog [at] gmail.com. (Make sure that everyone in the photo is okay with it ending up posted on the interwebs!)

If you don’t know what I’m going on about with all this “Pocket” talk, check out the previous posts:

Instructions for starting a group.

A vision for the type of friendly community you want to achieve.

Being bold in seeking friendship.

Some practical notes on the St. Greg’s Pockets.

Have you already gotten going? Have more tips and experiences for our readers? Let us know in the comments!

Elizabeth Goudge in the Library Project

 

Titles: The Scent of Water, The Rosemary Tree, Gentian Hill, The Dean’s Watch (this is one of a trilogy), Green Dolphin Street, Island Magic, The Bird in the Tree (this is one of a trilogy)

Author: Elizabeth Goudge

File Under: Novels, Healing fiction

Age Group: Young adult on up

The comments in my {bits & pieces} post of Saturday reminded me to tell you about one of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Goudge.

I threw a new category to “file under” in her honor: Healing fiction. I’d put fairy tales in this category as well. They are good stories first and foremost, but reading them can bring healing to the wounded soul, because something goes on beneath the surface, the effect of which is only felt after you put the book down. I can’t describe exactly what this effect is, just that you feel more whole and more grounded after you’ve experienced on of her books.

I first encountered Goudge about 15 years ago when my friend Amy offered me her worn copy of Island Magic in my response to a plea for a good comfy novel. I read about a third of it and then I called her.

“Is this book really good? I mean, the title… [and the cover, I may or may not have added, which in that version featured a style of art I’d describe as faintly Bodice-Ripper]… and so far… well, I mean… what’s going to happen?” I cut to the chase: “Is she going to commit adultery?!”

I just didn’t want to go there, you know? I wanted a good read but nothing devastating, and at this point, I had no idea how things would resolve themselves.

“Just keep reading,” Amy told me. “Don’t worry. You’ll see.”

And she was right. This is the unique quality of Elizabeth Goudge. Her characters are unhappy. They seem to be in the wrong marriage or contemplating the wrong marriage at all times. They seem to be in love with the wrong person. She doesn’t sugar-coat their lives.

Yet, the novels are romantic, deeply so, but in this way: The romance they feature is the hidden kind, where the protagonist loves despite not knowing how to love — or is made to love almost against her expectations — and where the endings are happy, but without the traditional or conventional or expected correlations with beauty, youth, and starry eyes.

So this is the healing aspect, and perhaps makes Goudge’s books, for the most part, more suited to women who are past the Cinderella stage of life and more into Beauty and the Beast territory. The prince’s charm is well hidden, and that fact may or may not have to do with Beauty’s loss of her own inner compass.

Green Dolphin Street is substantially different from the other books I’ve listed, and I think an older teenage girl would like it. It’s an epic tale based on an unlikely but true case of mistaken identity. It’s much more detailed and significantly more developed and textured than the others. It’s more of a commitment, but just as rewarding in how it points to a life beyond the mistake-ridden one we are living out here on earth. (The movie is terrible. Avoid.)

Goudge is not an A-list author. We’re not talking Austen or Undset. When I go back to read her novels that I’ve loved, I realize that they are filled to the brim with endless descriptions of sunsets and sunlight and clouds and other meteorological phenomena that render many another book unreadable. Often her dialogue causes cringing. Sometimes my impatience with her style gets the better of me.

And then she surprises: I think my friends and I agree that we can’t get enough of the kitchen at the beginning of Gentian Hill — it’s maybe our favorite room in fiction! Or somehow you are drawn into afternoon tea with the family and find you are comfortable there.

Thus, this recommendation must come with certain caveats. I love her so, and I put her in the same category of author as Rumer Godden. She’s a similar sort of early-20th century female writer — so appealing in her outlook. She’s romantic without being superficial; a storyteller without letting go of her morals.

Unlike Godden, her craft is not carefully honed, so that’s one caveat. Some of her books, like Child of the Sea and The White Witch I find just not worth the time.

What’s most valuable about reading Goudge, though, is that when I finish one of the books I’ve listed here, I’m again left with a strong sense of peace, of rightness, and of healing. Her world is one where love means more than what our world attributes to it. Love is holiness, and she doesn’t let her characters forget it.

Another point is that like Godden, her work sometimes veers into the odd or strange as far as what really matters, which is her world view and philosophy. Usually Goudge is so high-church Anglican as to be almost indistinguishable from Roman Catholic, especially because fiction often allows the artist to blur theological lines. But sometimes (in her later works?) she’s just flaky, and I want you to know that.

I don’t necessarily recommend every single thing she’s written for both these reasons. But I highly recommend the ones listed if you are looking for that kind of comforting book that will have a good effect on you.

Do you love Elizabeth Goudge? Have I left out any good ones?

{bits & pieces}

 The regular “little of this, little of that” feature from Like Mother, Like Daughter!

Last week Deirdre posted pictures of one of her beautiful eggs that she made for her midwife to thank her for her amazing care (someday I will write a post about Cindy!).

This is mine. She made it for me! Isn’t it amazing?

The hart in particular speaks to me (I was hoping that she’d make me one like this, as I watched her in process, little knowing it was for me!), and someday soon I hope to try to explain what I see in its significance. It is a symbol of Christ, did you know?

On to our links!

Habou sent me this lovely reflection on making mosaics and contemplating creativity, imperfection, and reconciliation. I liked this point, especially thinking about a favorite thought from Roger Scruton, that ordinary beauty helps us with the imperfection of real life: “8. There is a perfection in imperfection. The interstices or gaps between the tesserae speak their own language in mosaics.”


We loved this letter of J. R. R. Tolkien on married love and its secrets. Realistic and sweet.


Do you get excited by maps? Maps can seem very cut-and-dry and objective, but they are about point of view. This post helps you see that.


Tony Esolen has a great piece about what we can do to reform and renew this crazy world of ours.

When I read an article like Esolen’s, all I can think is that we can’t wait for a mass movement of some sort to revive good things. What he’s saying is, start with yourself, with your family, with your community — start living life as it should be lived, with confidence and energy.

Are you thinking, “If only there were a way to do what he says!” “If only I had some sort of guide!” “If only I knew a few other people who thought the same way!”?

We’ve put it together for you, actually. We’ve been talking about these same things, little by little, for years now, right here on Like Mother, Like Daughter.

I wrote a book to answer the question of how to begin this revolution of love and virtue, which is prayer in the home: The Little Oratory.

And I encourage you to be that friend who starts the conversation with others; who makes a little pocket, right where you are, of like-minded culture warriors.

But we didn’t go about it in the usual way, so you might not realize it. What do I mean? I mean, there’s no national headquarters or newsletters or dues or membership forms… it starts with you, just like he’s saying. The thing is, movements as such take a lot of energy. You know we only have so much energy… best concentrate it on the actual project, and not let it get sapped by the process.

Reading Esolen’s piece yourself, and reading it with your husband, and reading it together with friends would be a spirited start for your St. Gregory Pocket, which is Like Mother, Like Daughter’s suggestion for putting these important ideas into practice. (You can read all our thoughts and suggestions by perusing the archive, starting from the bottom up.)

We are providing you with the encouragement and the object lesson of just beginning, yes, from the ground up. There are already many Pockets! Maybe there is one near you (scroll down the post to see) — yes, even in Europe! If not, start one with bold friendship!

Here’s a thought from Deirdre: As you get together with your friends, why not take a few pictures — pictures of the couples reading together, the friends discussing, the children running around. Make an effort to get a Pocket meeting in before the summer is over (at least one!), and then send us a picture or two of what’s going on. It can be in your backyard, it can be at the beach, it can be blueberry picking! We’ll include your pictures in a post!

The feast of St. Gregory is at the beginning of September, so let’s use the rest of the summer to be ready to celebrate with what he would love best, a recovery of the “city” — the city of God, which is simply Christian living together with others — one foot here in the world, one in our heavenly home.

A glorious feast of St. James the Apostle to you! And tomorrow, please join us in begging St. Anne for her intercession for all the needs of our readers. We love you!

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n question (unless we state otherwise).~

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{pretty, happy, funny, real}

~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~

Every Thursday, here at Like Mother, Like Daughter!

We made it! We are happily mostly settled in Houston, in our lovely furnished apartment. No, really, the apartment is pretty nice–just not home, you know? I’ve been working on getting things set up and organized so we have a little of that homey feeling.

There are some obstacles, though. First of all, Freddie. You know. He’s awesome, but organization is not his strong suit.

 

Second of all, Dino 2. He (yup, another boy!) is also just fantastic, but often forces me to use my time napping instead of tidying/cleaning/etc. We could think of this afternoon nap as being MY fault…but we won’t.

Third of all, The Quack. No, just kidding, he’s the greatest. Really this is also Freddie’s fault. We put the pack-and-play in the (very well ventilated!) closet, which is working well, but since I’d really rather not have the one-year-old start his day before 5 AM, all Daddy’s work clothes have to be stored out in the living room.

Anyway, it’s a work in progress. And I only have three more months here, so who knows if I’ll find a solution! (Spoiler: I won’t. Not to all of it, anyway!)

 

{pretty}

The church is pretty; the boys I would call handsome. (Cathedral of St Louis, New Orleans)

You know, I’m sure, that moving is just THE WORST. I won’t go into the details, I’ll just trust that you know, and say thank goodness I had all these handy-dandy pregnancy hormones to help keep me on an even keel.

Oh wait, that’s not how those work.

ANYWAY, as it turns out, driving 21 hours over the course of three days was a great way to leave all that behind. We drove through some truly beautiful country–our route took us through Virginia, Tennessee, a tiny bit of Georgia, Alabama, Mississippi, and Louisiana, before arriving in Texas.

 

We spent the second night in New Orleans and got a little bit of time to see the city.

{happy}

In June, besides moving, we had one wedding (the Quack’s sister!), one first Mass (the Quack’s college friend), and one ordination (my college friend), and one first birthday!

 

Freddie turned one on our first day of driving! We had a small party in the park behind our old apartment a few days before we left. (At that point our apartment was way too far gone in the packing process to host anything.)

And here he is at a rest stop on his actual birthday!

And now he’s just ridiculously big.

{funny}

I was dreading the road trip, but as it turns out I really enjoyed it. Lots of time to talk, lots of country to see–I’m looking forward to doing another trip, this time with more leisure to stop in fun places.

But I’d like to do it in a bigger car.

Close quarters. (The two seats unoccupied by humans are occupied with luggage.)

One very tall man, one rather pregnant lady, one toddler in a large carseat, plus four months’ worth of luggage, all in a Toyota Corolla…it’s a tight fit. I think we probably looked fairly comical.

 

{real}

Well, that escalated quickly.

It’s just the lens cap, not a weird black blob on my underarm. Sorry.

I’m 24 weeks now. Feeling pretty good, trying my best to stay cheerful in the face of Houston’s temperatures. I’ve got plenty of symptoms (see above re: hormones and napping), but no concerning ones, thank God.

You know all the rules about what to say and do around a pregnant lady? Well, I have an amendment: you can go right ahead and help the lady out.

Last month, the day after my sister-in-law’s wedding, we went to the First Mass of a friend of John’s from college. It was fairly long, as these things tend to be, and Freddie got antsy, so I took him out to the foyer, where quite a few people were standing–enough people that I couldn’t really let Freddie run freely as he wanted.

After about 20 minutes of wrangling him in my arms, letting him toddle around a bit, then catching him before he got too far, a lovely woman came up to me and said, “I’m going to hold him for you now. You’re tired, you have another one on the way, [and here she patted my belly] I know how it feels. It’s hard. My babies are grown, but I remember. I’ll take him now.”

So, here are the rules that she broke:

1. She assumed I was pregnant (and honestly, at that point it wasn’t super obvious).

2. She touched my belly.

3. She tried to take my baby out of my arms.

And honestly, I was so grateful I could have cried. I WAS tired. It WAS hard to keep bending down to grab a little crawler.

It didn’t work, because Freddie didn’t want to be held by anybody (including me). But I just want to toss out there that sometimes somebody does need help. Of course we all need to be polite about it, and respect boundaries, but let’s not erect random boundaries that keep help away.

 

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Hope for when you regret the past. Tell Auntie Leila.

Last week I wrote a nice, helpful post about how to set up housekeeping for a lovely young lady who is by now, I think, just newly married.

And maybe some of you had a pang if, like me, you are already down the road without having done much of the practical or spiritual things we talked about in that post. Without realizing what was important.

I know some of you do get these pangs, because you write to me and say things I can so relate to, like this:

It makes me tear my hair out to think of how I spent my twenties so foolishly, so disordered toward the faithful family life we are creating now. ~ M.

Like, “Why didn’t anyone tell me this before??”

In my post about the Third Secret to Destruction-Proofing your Marriage, some of you told me things like this:

Auntie Leila, how I wish I had read this when I was a new bride. Instead, I read it at 42 with a grieving heart, as I recover from a hysterectomy. For the last two years, I was in an agony of discernment, trying to determine if we should be open to another child or continue to use NFP (because of my advancing age and our limited finances). Then my health spiraled dramatically and I was informed by numerous doctors that unless I had a hysterectomy, my life would be at risk. How foolish and short-sighted all my fears seem now! If we look at our lives through the lens of eternity, what could be more important than being open to God’s plan? Now I can only weep and weep, mourning my lost fertility even as I hug my three children close to my heart. ~ Mary

I read this with tears in my eyes. By the time we woke up to the truth about this issue, I was 40. I’m 48 now, and even though I remember that my grandmother gave birth to my father at that age, then went on to have his younger brother at 50, I know that, biologically, the chances of us having any more children are exceedingly slim. Of course, with God all things are possible! :) We do have a wonderful son, who has been a joy to raise, and we are very grateful to God for granting us the gift of that young man. ~ CarlynB

I read this post with tears in my eyes as well, knowing that my childbearing days are past (I’m 53 now), and wondering what might have been.  ~ Christy

Today I do have a little to say about this regretting of the past, and what might have been. Whether it’s regretting not realizing the importance of what you do in the home, not having true devotion, or actually taking wrong turns, I want you to know what kind of hope God has for you.

The past.

Some of you are good with the past and are good with how you’ve used your time, and, well, God bless you.

That’s what the Irish say when they really mean “You’re crazy” —

— as in “You have seven children? God bless you!”

Or sometimes they really mean “Are you for real?” — as in “You have no regrets about the past? God bless you.”

As for me, apart from the really awful things I’ve done pretty much on purpose, and all the stupid and ridiculous things I’ve done out of ignorance, there’s just all the falling short and wasted time and serious ways in which I have not been kind or sweet or any of those things that I’ve recently discovered are important.

(Do you always feel like you only recently finally understood? Anything at all? That’s how I always feel! “I’m starting to get a clue… I think I get it now…”)

But this is not my confession.

Let’s talk about you.

Making mistakes.

It’s what we do.

One day I discovered the remedy for this feeling — a little life-line of hope. Not in the “Jesus died to save me from my sins” kind of way, which is of course at the back of everything I’m going to tell you, no need to mention it. Not even in the “heaven will be our reward” kind of way, although sometimes that is all that keeps me going.

It’s more a specific prayer that helps me with the actual, specific feeling of having wasted time and screwed everything up. (By the way, I love that the good God doesn’t expect us to accept general, blanket statements about our deepest thoughts and feelings, but provides an infinite number of ways to communicate to us in the most precise terms!)

Now, feelings are quite separate from objective facts, so even if we’ve repented and confessed and offered and made reparation, we can still just be so frustrated at the feeling (which, after all, is based on fact) that we’ve gone and just not done what we ought to do, and now it (our life) is just… falling short in all these ways.

Which really is just life, and no one should be surprised that I, at least, wasn’t able to wrestle all of it into the shape of my dreams.

Not that there isn’t always much to be grateful for, and for sure many are suffering much worse things than I (or you, even) … it’s just… the defeat of it all… way back when; some of which may not have been our fault. Sometimes we suffer misfortune, and what could be termed crop failures of the soul, if not the actual physical farm. Floods and droughts, real and metaphorical, events not necessarily of our own making.

And some things very much of our own making.

And sometimes the bitterness is hard to overcome. Especially when we get to that place where we see that things might have worked out, if we had known then what we know now!

This hope I’m speaking of first came to me in the form of a little scrap of Scripture:

And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten… (Joel 2: 25)

It’s a promise from God. He will restore the years.

Now, this whole chapter, of which this is one verse, is about many things. It’s a prophecy about the redemption of Israel. It’s really quite apocalyptic and earth-shaking and concerns the whole revolution of the universe in the day of the Lord. It’s quite metaphorical: the blackness, the fire, the horses, the vats overflowing with wine and oil…

But still. There’s a tiny bit of comfort there for the here and now, I feel — for our own interior parched land and the desolation of the past. It’s not just that He will take us from here, leaving behind the mess, and deliver us to a better place (although He will do that if we rend our hearts and not our garments, as He mentions).

He’s specifically saying that He will give back the years.

 

 

Later, as I began doing the Office of Readings, I noticed how often we pray Psalm 90 (89 in some versions). Go and read it — but the translation matters as to whether the bit that helps me will jump out at you or not. Try the Revised Standard Version to get the full effect of what I am trying to say.

The first part of this Psalm basically goes over what I’ve been trying to say here. It’s a lament for how short man’s time is compared to God’s time, and how futile things can seem — even our efforts. The Psalmist sees how even our objective successes seem to us, in this light, like the children of men returning to dust. Like grass withering.

Have we done what we ought to do? This is what worries us, because we can sort of see the answer.

Then He puts the words in our mouths — words we should say to Him.

“Make us glad as many days as thou hast afflicted us,/and as many years as we have seen evil.”

Just as we say to our children,

“Say, ‘Mama, please give me the cherry,’ and then I will give it to you,”

God is saying to us,

“Say, ‘Teach us to number our days aright… Give me back the years. Make it up to me.’ And then I will.”

Now, we aren’t actual babies, so we have to have the right kind of vision to see what He will do.

We also have to have gone through those years of the dry times (so it’s not a prayer that can be prayed too soon!). And it’s not that if we have faith, we will prosper — not according to how the world sees it, most likely. Certainly, He didn’t make to prosper His own Son.

But on the other hand, there are His words. We must trust, and hope. Pray this prayer of Psalm 90: 15 and then have hope, let go, and trust. Remember Joel 2: 25, when the memory of the locusts bites.

He will restore the years, just as they ought to be, and the work of our hands will grow. And we will be the ones to tell the others of His goodness… only those who experienced it in just this way.

You will see.

 

{bits & pieces}

 The regular “little of this, little of that” feature from Like Mother, Like Daughter!

 

On education:

I think I’ve talked on {b&p} before about how I like to envision a more effective way for my kids, when the time comes, to obtain higher education than what our current system offers. This article makes me think that there are more and more folks thinking this way, and with good reason (I don’t know if I agree with all her policy suggestions at the end, but I certainly agree with her general argument and conclusions): More Parents Finally Get that College is a Scam.
And you know that what she says about colleges being too politically correct must be true, because it’s confirmed even in The Onion: Parents Dedicate New College Safe Space in Honor of Daughter Who Felt Weird in Class Once.


How about moral education: for instance, how to be courageous? This piece from National Review is a strong wake-up call in that regard: On Man’s Duty to Defend the Weak and Vulnerable. From the article:

We teach them that aggression is always and everywhere bad, to look for authority figures to set things right, and thus the single-best thing they can do in a crisis is find someone to tell.

On or related to the sexes:

Ryan Anderson wrote a piece with his suggestions for a four-fold plan of action, post Obergefell: Rebuilding a Marriage Culture.


I highly recommend Bullied “Out of the Closet” and (Almost) Bullied Back In. From what I’ve read by David Prosen, he seems to be a man of wisdom and remarkable humility. He has some real insight into the whole question of bullying and how it relates to where we’re finding ourselves, culturally.


Have you heard of the Women Betrayed Rally? There is time to mobilize in your area before it takes place (the 28th)!

On being busy:

From Slate: You’re Not as Busy as you Say You Are. Our use of language has a strong impact on how busy we feel and consequently how busy we make ourselves!


This university professor offers a bit of a reflection on the problem of “busy-ness,” which he calls The Disease of Being Busy.
On a related note, this NYTimes piece posits that the key to keeping kids in check regarding screen time is for parents to check themselves – which requires that we slow down a bit.


All of this made me think of a reflection my friend wrote about day 1 without her “device” this past Lent — a reflection that very much resonated with me when I first read it!

Some fascinating misc:

In an effort to correct misconceptions about Africa (in particular, that the whole continent is comprised solely of people suffering helplessly in poverty), one woman kicked off a campaign on Instagram called #theAfricaTheMediaNeverShowsYou. Africans shared photos from all over and some of the best of them are collected here. They are stunning and all of them together definitely increase my desire to visit Africa someday! (NB: I do not endorse the work of ONE.)


This is not news in general, but it was news to me when I learned recently: it seems that mothers produce different milk for boys versus girls! The female body continues to amaze…


Solyzhenitsyn Mourned Bastille Day. So Should All Christians. A brief overview of some of the grim and important history of Bastille Day.


Rosie showed me this Instagram account and I didn’t know whether to be severely cowed at my lack of artistic output or thoroughly inspired. This artist renders her kid’s cute quotations in illustrated form in a diary. Anyway, it’s delightful: ElenasTreeHouse on Instagram.

 

Today in the liturgical year: St. Frederick (among others)! (Had to highlight St. Frederick in my nephew’s honor!)

 

 

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{pretty, happy, funny, real}

~ Capturing the context of contentment in everyday life ~

Every Thursday, here at Like Mother, Like Daughter!

 

Heads up for EWTN fans! Auntie Leila is flying off to Alabama to appear on At Home with Jim and Joy! Details are on the Speaking page – tune in and enjoy!

In the meantime, I’m subbing in for this week.

{pretty}

In my verrry late days of pregnancy, when I was hanging out on the LMLD homestead, waiting for my little man to come along, I capitalized on some of my remaining hours of Only One Kid In Hand to do a little pysanky.

In an effort to explore certain effects, I was limiting my palette. I often start out saying, “This time I’m really just gonna use two colors.” I begin with white and plan on a red background. But then yellow creeps in (I mean, just for the flowers!)… and then a fourth seems in order… you can’t have a yellow flower without a couple green leaves, right?

 

Okay so there were two different shades of green. So five. Technically five colors. But a limited-palette-effect overall, I think.

Of course, that tricksy little boy arrived before I was actually done with the egg! So it wasn’t until several weeks later that I was able to find a spare hour or two to complete it and get a varnish on, and then add a finding and some thread to turn it into a hanging ornament.

It was my thank you gift for my amazing midwife. My “Eamon” egg. I’m pleased with it enough to put it here in my “pretty” file.

I also did one for my mom – limited palette, similar motifs featuring the stag (a symbol of Christ) – which I also consider an “Eamon” egg. Maybe she’ll show it to you at some point.

 

{happy}

I have a pretty decent collection of “before” photos of The Chesternest, which I’ll dip into here.

Behold: our master bedroom on the night of move-in last fall:

You can see that this room has good bones. Great wood floor, right? Love my wood floors. Lots of windows. Pleasing space. But it certainly was looking just that – bony.

And then, later, it looked bony but also, frequently, cluttered:

My bedroom makes me happy these days. I’ve been able to soften it up with some decor and curtains (that I purchased in a curtain-hanging-frenzy after I saw a three-months-delayed heating bill). (Still need to put up curtain tie-backs.) And recently I have been dedicated to keeping it tidy and absolutely clutter-free, periodically reminding myself about my mom’s advice to start in the master bedroom and keep that space a sanctuary.

{Did you catch her post earlier this week for the newlywed bride/all of us? So handy.}

I’ve been working on “a place for each thing and each thing in its place” all over the apartment, but so far my greatest success has been here in this room.

It’s always a peaceful feeling to come in here.

Whaddya know: Ever since I scoured out all unwanted and unused objects and religiously purged this room of clutter, I’ve found it a much more approachable, feasible, and even pleasing task to dust the whole room on a regular basis. Weekly dusting. I’m like Marilla over here.

Just imagine a lovely posey in this vase (which was made by my uncle). I haven’t yet located any sources for posies other than stealing from a neighbor’s garden, which might not be Our Lady’s favorite manner of devotion.

Love me a good Indian print.

{funny}

Thinking back to that time when I made that inside out German Chocolate Cake.

Obviously it was delicious, because it was all chocolatey and coconutty and toasted-almondy. But another time I would just go with a simpler, tried-and-true chocolate cake and cut it into layers rather than using the one from this recipe, which was, frankly, not tasty enough to be worth the labor intensiveness of the process.

In any case, it was fun to do the layering and make the exquisitely smooth top frosting. Easy on the eyes…

Until one day when a certain little someone got curious.

I mean, perhaps I’m being unfair — I didn’t witness anything so I can’t identify an offender for sure. I may be jumping to conclusions here, based on fingertip size.

{real}

We’ve been living here for over nine months, and this is still the best I can do as far as a system for our recycling:

Behold: this is a door (located close to my two kitchens but not actually in either of them) to the back hallway, which leads down and outside into the driveway where the recycling and trash bins are. Mind you — plastic bags are not permitted in the recycling here (I know right?? Seriously? They need to work that one out.), so the plastic bag is emptied into the recycling bin and then put into the trash bin.

But before it goes outside, it just hangs here. On this doorknob. Occasionally causing me feelings of shame and yet failing to turn itself into a better system without any effort on my part.

But really guys, there is no available floor/closet/corner/cabinet space for a recycling bin!

Except in the back hall. Don’t tell me I just have to open the door and reach into the back hall. Because that’s probably what I have to do but I don’t need to hear it. Because in the winter that back hall is an icy chamber of drafty New England death. And at all times it’s about one turn of the doorknob too far away.

Maybe I just need something more bin-y to hang there instead of the dumb plastic bag. Hm.

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