The Scoopy Six

My oldest turned six a few months back. I'm just now getting around to publishing this! It's hard to believe we've been parents for five full years now! There is never a dull moment.

Time to start the list - one item for which I am grateful for each year of life.

1. I'm grateful for his smile. His desire to please and to share love and joy is contagious and will serve him well. He always knows when I need "Scoopy-lovin'".

2. I'm grateful for his feelings. John Ross is my emotional compass for our family. He is overall an even-keeled kid with lots of heart. However, when I see his good nature waiver, I can place a sure bet that something is out of balance in our family as a whole.

3. I'm grateful for his curiosity. Questions like, "Why do we need time?" And "Why does Jesus matter anyways?" keep me on my toes and give me opportunities to evaluate my answers.

4. I'm grateful for his boundless energy. Sigh.

5. I'm grateful for his servant's heart, which silently chides and inspires my own heart.

6. I'm grateful for his perseverance. Never did I believe that when we taught him the word that it would become such a driving force in his life. He is not easily foiled and has a rock-solid work ethic.

 

 

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15 Months + 30 Years Equals Childhood

I always say that 15 months is when my life changes with a baby. Thomas has been no different. At the end of this month we will hit the 15 month milestone. He is walking, indicating needs, calling me mama, and feeding himself. He is as much joy and contentment as he was as a newborn. He brings so much light to our lives.

Next month marks another milestone for us as our beautiful Clara starts school. I will put two of my children on the bus each morning and spend a few blessed hours with my baby and my house. Never before have I had this blessing, challenging as it may be sometimes.

This year would have been so different if it weren't for the unexpected arrival of our Thomas. I would be working outside the home. I would be contemplating a move to full time. We would still have a nanny. The kitchen cabinets would not be refinished...

Because of the open nature of our marriage and my womb, our lives have been changed in such a miraculous way. I am now home with my children. I am now more present to their lives. Because I am now home during the day, my career as a writer and speaker has taken off in directions beyond my wildest dreams. My health has never been better in my adult life.

Today I sit in the visitor center of The Shrine of Our Lady of Guadalupe in La Crosse, Wisconsin. I am preparing to give a retreat for the executive board of Catholic Charities, La Crosse. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine this as part of my life.

But my Lord did.

As I turn 30 this year, so many things have settled in my heart and become the focus of my prayer life. 30 so far seems to be the decade of reflection and reconciliation. We've lost some dear friends this year and come closer to others. We have been called to face the mortality of our loved ones and the mortality of ourselves. The great blessing in reflecting on our limited humanness is the opportunity to remember God generosity, God's provision, and God's fortifying love.

Since losing a dear friend in June I've spent a great deal of time reflecting on those in my life who have impacted the woman I am today. Two weeks before his death I ran into him while dining at a local restaurant with my children and mother-in-law. He bought our dinner, unbeknownst to us, until the bill arrived. I thanked him, Clara gave him a drawing and we went on our way with a light quip about lunch sometime soon. About a week later, I drove past the parish where we'd worked together and saw his vehicle out front. I considered stopping to talk, but told myself I'd do it later. A week later, he had gone to our Lord. It is one of those moments I will never forget; one of those missed opportunities that will stay with me forever.

As such, I'm making it a point to feel more in my 30s. My husband regularly reminds me that I need to trust God and follow my heart, not the way society tells my heart it should be feeling. In the past 20 years I've left so many things unsaid. Raised to move around, I've left so many relationships unfinished. It is only now that I am beginning to appreciate the person God created me to be. It is only in the present moment, stable and supported, that I have truly begun to appreciate the awkward, precocious, curious, and genuine young woman of my youth. My adolescent emotions and anxiety had validity. These experiences make me authentic and I must not go forgetting them or pretending they didn't happen. I've already spent too many years running away and then trying to catch up to whom I really am. I'm tired of starting over.

I want my daughter to know authenticity. I want her to trust her heart at any age. I want my son to recognize, name, and embrace his "old soul" in a way I wish I had. I want my baby to forever live in his simple joy of risk. I want to protect them, but I want them to grow to love their own identity and their own place in this world, unmasked by my fear and trepidation.

God guides our hearts if only we take time to listen. It's easy to talk. It's hard to listen. As a child, I was a great listener. When I found myself no longer heard, my ability to listen diminished, leaving me vulnerable, confused and broken. When I married Kevin, my voice once again took on sound and I am now in a place where I need to practice the art of listening once again. I must re-learn listening so that I can grow in Faith, Hope, and Love.

Matthew 18:1-5 "At that time the disciples approached Jesus and said, "Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?" He called a child over, placed it in their midst, and said, "Amen, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will not enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever receives one child such as this in my name receives me.""

I having been hearing God's call in this passage for the past few months. 30 marks a new childhood for me. I must embrace this time with my young children and husband as a time to not only example, but practice these childlike arts. I am being called to fill myself up with knowledge and experiences like a child. I am being called to practice once again the genuine love, innocent trust, and fearless abandonment of my childhood. It is time to laugh like Christ and the little child.

I am excited and I am grateful. I miss my dear friend, but I'm in debt to him for being an example of Christ's selfless, ever-giving love and for inspiring me to embrace the Christ child within.

"Come, sit, and tell stories of those loved."

 

 

 

 

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The Women Raising My Children

 

I intended to write this post months ago, but how does one tackle a topic so close to one's heart in a blog post? Here I will try.

I’ll admit it. I’ve watched “Sister Wives” on TLC. You know, the one about the 4 wives and 1 husband and their very blended family? Now, before you judge, I’m not proud of my choice. After the first season – there isn’t much on TV for 2am feedings and Netflix is SO convenient – I stopped watching because the whole concept of polygamy and their lifestyle left me feeling uneasy.

That being said, there was definitely a draw to the concept of parenting my children with other women. There is nothing like the perspective and extra hands of other mothers. It made me step back and reflect on my own mothering experience. I realized that in many ways, I share the job of parenting with many other wonderful and blessed women. I share them with you here.

My Mom, Sheila – As I’ve shared in the past, my mother is a foster mom and my brother was adopted into our family. As such, my mother’s “parenting” years have been extended. From my mother my children learn that family doesn’t begin and end, it is constant. From her they learn unconditional love and acceptance as we share the lives of so many unique children. They also learn in a special way the difference between a mother’s love and a grandmother’s love. Only a grandmother would spend time running around collecting items my 4-year-old insists “mom is out of.”

My Mother-in-law, Pat – My mother-in-law is legally blind and has been most of her life. You wouldn’t know it to meet her, however, as she has learned to thrive in her disability. My children have learned perseverance, attentiveness and acceptance. They see in her a wicked independence. They don’t know Grandma any different than she is and they love her all the same. John Ross has learned to sense her needs and respond to them. It brought my heart great joy to see him lead her into church with her cane the other day, carefully maneuvering her through the doorways and around the pews. And just like any other grandma, I find myself coming to grips with the spoils of a visit and the sugar overload aftermath.

My Sister, Alida – When my family is together there are so many children that we just parent whichever one is closest to us. My children see my sister as an extension of myself. She loves them all fiercely and goes out of her way to make sure they know she loves them. She and I share a similar life stage and she keeps me sane. At the same time, she thinks of all the fun “aunt” things to do. I’ll never live up to the bonfire and toasted marshmallows visit.

My Sister, Johanna – My sister Johanna is my respite. When “Ana” is around, you know the kids will be out of my hair. Ana spent much of her teen years helping my mom with foster babies and our brother Matthew, many of whom had special needs. As such, Ana is very creative and inventive when it comes to entertaining the kids and reducing parental stress levels. Strangely enough, she is the best and most loving disciplinarian I’ve ever met. Even without kids, I look to her for ideas and support when it comes to keeping my kids happy and in line. She doesn’t put up with nonsense, but knows the art of distraction best of anyone. She has a love and passion for life that inspires and lights up my kids and for that I am eternally grateful.

My Neighbor, Ann – Ann is a dear friend. I don’t think there are many people who can say they have as good of neighbors as we do. Ann greets our children regularly, waves to them from the car, and invites them to swim in her pool. When she stops over to visit she gives them hugs and asks them questions about their small person lives. With 2 girls of her own, she regularly drops off hand-me-down toys, bikes and equipment. She praises them for their politeness and encourages us as parents. Clara always prays for “Miss Ann” first during our night prayers and we thank God for her as well.

My Nanny, Jeannine – Jeannine gets it. When I needed to hire someone in home to care for my children, I long for someone who could be an extension of me. While we are very different, Jeannine is just that. She loves them like I would. She gives them experiences and joy like I want to. She challenges and holds them accountable. With 4 children of her own, she is a skilled teacher and guide. During a very difficult time in my 3rd pregnancy when I was suffering from debilitating depression, Jeannine made holidays and birthdays something special. Not only is she another mother to my children, but she has become a support for me too – sharing our lives and helping to keep my house (and more importantly my head) in order. It took us a lot of time to find her and we would be lost without her.
My children’s Godmothers – We don’t see these women as often as we’d like, but perhaps that is why they make good Godmothers. They are called in a special way to support us in prayer, both the kids and us as parents. Without their prayers, we would be lost. We count on them to be spiritual warriors and resources for our little ones and we count on their prayers to protect us as we ride the crazy parental rollercoaster.

These women and I don’t share a husband (thank goodness), but these are the women helping me to raise loving, fun, and passionate children. These are the women who help me to be a better mother and live in the example of our Blessed Mother. Clearly, we share a heavenly Father and we are all responsible for the little lives, hearts and souls entrusted to us. So with great humility and hope, I say “thank you.” I hope someday to be as pivotal in the lives of other children as the women in the lives of mine.

Who cares for, teaches, and inspires your children? How have you thanked them?

Clara Ann Turns 3

I’m within the month so it counts, right?

Clara turned 3. My little wise-woman is 3. Amazing.

She was laying in bed with me after her nap yesterday and she was all curled around my 9-month-pregnant belly rubbing it and talking to it and I realized, “This little girl is my big girl now.”

In the past year, Clara has really amused us with the little lady she is becoming. She is really sassy, spunky, and all her own person. Just a few phrases from her lingo as of the past year:

“Avocado, are you okay?”

“I’m going to crack you like an egg!”

“There’s a veggie fry in my baby carseat!”

And yet, this edgy little beauty has a deeply emotional side as well.

She regularly despairs over the deceased animals in our family, wishing desperately to go to heaven to see them.

When we were watching Disney’s Fox and the Hound she had an all-out, crying, sobbing, meltdown when Todd the fox was being taken away from his home to the wildlife preserve.

She is notorious for wailing for the parent that she isn’t currently at odds with and often insists, “pat my back, pat my back” before bedtime.

Though very fond of her mother, she is a daddy’s girl all the way. She loves to tell him all about her dreams and makes sure she enjoys all the things he does including hockey.

We have come to believe that she possesses her daddy’s gift of “super palate”. To help my readers understand, Kevin can taste all nuances of things in his food and beverages including when a beer has been poured into glass which previously served a bloody Mary drinking patron – something about the celery salt. Clara will try anything and usually like it. She loves kalamata greek olives, horseradish, salsa, lemons, vinaigrettes, whole grain mustard, and smelly cheese. She regularly smells food on our breath and can identify it.

“Daddy, I smell peanuts on your breath.”

“Mama, I need some chocolate too.”

Her love and curiosity for the Lord and the Blessed Mother continues to grow. She desperately wanted to be involved in my Girlfriends in God art project that involved the Blessed Mother and was tickled pink when I gave her my little compact mirror from the Sisters of St. Francis of the Holy Cross. She memorized the imprinted quote almost immediately.

“May you be the face of Christ to others.”

Then she asked me if we could go visit St. Francis and when I told her that St. Francis was in heaven, she was heartbroken. I offered that we could go visit the sisters and in typical Sappa fashion, asked if we could have breakfast with them.

She is the epitome of emotion and independence inherited from Kevin and me. I love and admire her more each day, but am definitely getting my payback for everything I put my own mother through.

Happy birthday Sappa-Lou! We love you!

4 Years Going on 40

My little man is 4. I'm about a week late on this post, but that's what happens when you're facing the kinds of mountains I have been. Late or not, he is 4 and I've been a mama for almost 5 years. Whew...

John Ross, your joy is contagious. Your zest for life and curiosity is my life's breath some days. I love watching you figure things out and play pretend with your sister. I cherish the moments when we curl up in bed without Daddy or Clara for snuggle time and a good movie. I am inspired by your work ethic and your desire to be helpful. You are polite and loving. I am so grateful for your sensitive feelings and their constant reminder that life is not about me.

May the world be forever a wonderful, beautiful puzzle. May the growth you love so much as a child inspire you to the end of your days. May your dream to "get little again" keep you young and hopeful. May God bless you, my sweet, loving, spirited, little boy.

Mama loves you always.

The Way My Mother Made Me

I was blessed to have a wonderfully deep conversation about mothers with some dear women recently. The sun warmed our bodies, the food nourished our stomachs, and a cool August breeze signaled to all of us a time of change in our lives.

Over delightfully cold glasses of lemonade we shared about work, ministry and motherhood. As the last few bites were taken the conversation turned to the topic of our mothers.

While I hold very dear the insights, fears, joys, and questions that were raised during this unique conversation and would never betray the trust of my two dearest friends, I will say this and I think it runs true for all women: we are each the way our mothers made us. We live with and learn from their choices, their manners, and yes, even their thighs. We carry their absence and presence with us. We hear their voices, their lessons, and their theologies within just about every moment. Sometimes the lessons are found in their failings or our missing wants and desires, and sometimes they are in the questions that remain unanswered. Nevertheless, they make us who we are.

I'm not going to make that something more than it is. Birth mothers, foster mothers, Godmothers, grandmothers, Virgin Mothers, let it find you where you are and let it speak to you.

Grateful for the beautiful women who blessed me so deeply today with their great honesty and trust, I treated my daughter to her very first tea and biscuits before bed tonight. I relished every blessed motherly moment. As we laughed and giggled and talked about all the good things God makes for us, I prayed somewhere in the hidden realms of my soul that someday the smell of chamomille and lavender will find my Clara remembering her own mommy-dearest, worts and all.

St. Kate's Shout Out

Who knows what kind of grief this is going to get me amidst my staff, my collegues, and my mama community, but here it is: I'm a 2005 graduate of St. Catherine University! St. Kate's is my alma mater and yes, it is an all-women's Catholic university located in St. Paul, Minnesota.

Let's start with a few myths. We are not all lesbian, though we have women and friends in our community who are. We are a liberal arts college, but there are conservatives, progressives, and independents among us. My generation did not have curfews and guys are allowed on campus and in the dorms (though they had to be out by 1 a.m.) We do not and did not have pillow fights in our underwear, but we do wear comfy pants to class. We are a Catholic university, but we respect and learn from all kinds of religious faith and spirituality. Finally, any alumnae that tells you she didn't feed the squirrels is probably lying.

It seems like a great concept. A higher-education experience surrounded only by women. A golden opportunity for serious, focused, goal-oriented learning. In fact, the university's vision is "To be a leading Catholic university distinguished by its innovative spirit and premier baccalaureate College for women."

It's a glorious vision. Unfortunately, visions are often just that - something we see, hope for, and desire but whose reality we can only strive for. You see, the vision statement leaves something to be imagined because it is actually somewhere amidst the estrogen and the massive amounts of chemically-enhanced junk food is where the real story of St. Kate's lies. Let's take a look.

"To be a leading Catholic university..."

My faith was challenged by my experience at St. Kate's. To say otherwise would be untrue. And yet, it was in the challenges that I found my resolute in the faith of my childhood. I found myself in my faith. I better understood the intellectual challenges to the Catholic faith and was able to arm myself in knowledge and acceptance of the mystery.

Moreover, the wonderful ACTC consortium relationship provided not only expanded learning options, but it allowed me to choose the depth and specificity at which I wished to study. Half of the courses for my theology major were taken through the University of St. Thomas Catholic Studies department. I rely regularly on the strict theology and doctrine from my UST courses, but I rely just as heavily on the pastoral insights and lifelong learning perspective that I received in my St. Kate's course. Without both, I would not have the well-rounded background I need for my work in today's Church.

I remember fondly a Christian Life Stages course taught by Sr. Shawn Madigan. On a weekly basis, as I face the different needs of various people of faith, I reflect back on my learning about the different faith stages of individuals. I am so blessed that she has returned to her home town and mine, where she regularly presents and reflects at the Norbertine Center for Spirituality a few minutes from our parish. The St. Kate's community never ceases to touch my life.

At some point during my time at St. Kate's I read the book "Friendship and the Moral Life" by Dr. Paul Wadell. Little did I know that a few short years later I would be listening to him speak at my own parish, being that he is a professor at the local Catholic college.

Most significant to the Catholic identity of the college for me was in the example of the late Dr. Russ Connors. My final year at St. Kate's his course on "Suffering, Compassion, and Healing" was the only theology course that also fulfilled my writing intensive requirement. The learning was meaningful, but made only more so by the living and dying of the man who taught it. Having kept close tabs on Dr. Connor's work and health since my graduation, it has been a great joy, comfort and example to watch him live the lessons he taught. He suffered his conditions with grace, lived what time he had to the fullest, and died with great dignity and love. He leaves behind a legacy that exemplifies the Catholic intellectual tradition: faith, understanding, and great love.

"...innovative spirit..."

I was a nerd and the college experience wasn't going to change that. I was blessed to be a part of the Antonian Honors program. Interdisciplinary seminars and lectures pushed my learning to a new level and gave me the ability to flex my intellectual creativity. I was able to take my interests, my passions, and turn them into a learning opportunity. I was encouraged to read and research John Paul II's rhapsodic theater movement - for a grade! I researched, marketed, directed, and produced a play! The innovative spirit of the program taught me that I have control over my learning and my experience and inspires me to continue my learning in whatever endeavor I undertake.

Moreover, it was in St. Kate's cafeteria that I was first introduced to Bailey's Irish Cream ice cream. Many a late study (and movie) nights were accompanied by that ice cream and I like to believe that it's unique place in my experience has inspired me to continue trying new foods, new experiences and my own culinary endeavors. Perhaps ice cream cannot be considered innovative, but it sure can be considered inspiring!

The innovative nature of my St. Kate's experience is what inspired the work on this blog. It is what inspired the work I do in women's ministry. I learned to see a need and respond to it with my gifts. God has imbued the St. Kate's community with the inspiration and innovation of the Spirit.

"...premiere baccalaureate College for women."

While an education is a key aspect of the St. Kate's experience, I think the key word in the final phrase of the university's vision is "women". Community is at the core of my St. Kate's experience. Is, not was, because the St. Kate's community extends well beyond our time noshing in the Pulse, working out in Butler, studying next to Dew Drop, or worshipping in the Chapel.

After graduation I moved to Green Bay where I met my husband. We prepared for marriage at our local parish where we were paired with a preparation couple. Small world that the St. Kate's community is, Kris and Bob Fry were a Katie-Tommy pair from an earlier generation. Their marriage, family and way of life is testament to the character fortified by their SCU and UST experiences. They actively contribute to the global search for justic and stand firmly on both feet of charity and advocacy. Most importantly, they inspire others to do the same.

Last, but perhaps most meaningful to my experience at St. Kate's, is my roommate. I lived with the same roommate all 3 years we were at St. Kate's. Jessie was there through the ups and downs of college life. She's survived the guys, the jobs, and countless miles of travel. Together we've seen the late night crowd at the Highland Park Chipotle, the inside of St. Joseph's hospital emergency room, and miles of high-speed rails across Europe. She is not only one of my best friends and confidents, but she is now my son's Godmother. If I take nothing else with me from my time at St. Kate's, I take her and her unconditional love.

Not every moment of my time at St. Kate's was easy or humorous. There were days when I questioned every aspect of the vision statement above. Ultimately though, asking those questions, seeking for the answers, and experiencing the impact of the community made me a stronger person, a more supportive wife, a more loving mother, and a more dedicated woman of God. St. Kate's vision prepared me to live an even greater vision: to live and share the message and mission of Jesus Christ.

"Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you..."

Matthew 28: 19-20

February 29th is "Shout Out St. Kate's" Day! For more insights into the St. Kate's community go to http://minerva.stkate.edu/shoutout.nsf/pages/homepage

Farms and Barns and the Love of God

I find myself travelling to the far reaches of our diocese about once a month. While it can sometimes be a bit intimidating to navigate the small country roads, I find great joy in my solitary drives and the simplicity of the wholesome country I drive through.

After today's presentation at a church in Sturgeon Bay, I hopped back in the car with my eyes set on the road less taken. My destination: A little farm market near Algoma, Wisconsin. My goal: The final items for a local Christmas food basket.

After finding my items (and shhh...a few extra that will come in handy for tomorrow's celebration of the Feast of St. Nicholas), I found myself taking county road after country road to make my way back to the highway. Hands bundled in mittens with Bing Crosby crooning "Adeste Fideles", I drove past family farm after family barn. A light blustering of snowflakes accompained me as I drove and thought about a simpler time.

I reminiced the days of my youth when we lived out in the country and used to take drives to see family friends. How I loved the dark drives home with warm cocoa in our bellies and Garrison Keillor on the radio. The only lights were barn spotlights and the colorful holiday lights of some of our country neighbors. When the show was over, Dad would switch on the crackling remastering of Bing Crosby on CD. I would look out the car window at the stars and find myself wondering where God was "up there". How was it that Jesus was born? How did Jesus get from Heaven to earth? How could I possibly celebrate the birth of Jesus when it was so long ago?

Then we would arrive home. Mom would open the door and the cold chill of the winter wind would come rushing in and the overhead car light would sharply interrupt the dark quiet that had taken root in my soul. My mind was drawn to the practical things of finding my shoes, helping my younger sisters to the house, and making my way to bed without a fuss.

Nowadays, I live in that place of "practical things" more often than I would like. A college degree, a marriage, a home, and two children later, I find less and less time for the wonderings, and wanderings, of life. I suppose to some knowledge and experience brings comfort and a sense of preparation for the unexpected. Much as a cherish my education and the journey of my life thus far, I find that the more I learn the less I realize I know. Frankly, the less I want to know.

Today God and I got to talk like we used to talk. I asked my Father questions and He listened patiently, tangents and all, and offered His perspective. I simply got to be...to be loved...and to love back in all wonder.

What a great gift as we approach the feast of St. Nicholas. What a great gift indeed.