What Kind of Bird Are You?

Kevin and I were laying in bed the other night talking and at one point he said to me, "You just don't like to fly in formation when the rest are lagging behind."

This comment has really gotten to my core. At first, there was a guilt - why can't I just fly in formation? Why can't I just go with the flow? My husband can just put his head down and get through, why can't I just put up and shut up? My life would be so much easier...

Then my husband reminded me, "Sometimes we need people who march to the beat of their own drum."

Two very mixed analogies and so in jest I said, "No, I'm not a goose like everybody else. Geese just all fly together making a lot of noise and soiling all over everybody else's stuff. I'm a hawk. A solitary bird that sees what I want, watches quietly but actively for awhile, and then swoops in to get it."

But then I thought about it - that's too agressive. I'm not that way either.

As I laid there in the dark I continued to think. Finally, I rolled over and said to Kevin, waking him, "Nope, I'm a hoot owl - a barred owl to be specific. Solitary, noctural, and thoughtful. I speak loudly when necessary and take decisive action when it comes to my hungers and the hungers of my family."

Yes, I am a hoot owl.

What are you?

Matthew 6: 25-27

"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat [or drink], or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds in the sky; they do not sow or reap, they gather nothing into barns, yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are not you more important than they? Can any of you by worrying add a single moment to your life-span?"

Song of a Sick Day

Well, it's not been the most wonderful time of the year in this house for the past 4 days. We've passed a stomach bug, tips and tails, through all four of us. Clara got it first and seems to be the last to shake it. She's not really had an illness in her 18 months and I just don't think her body knew exactly what to do with it.

Suffice it to say, we've learned first hand that sick days as parents are no longer about getting well, just getting by.

Reality aside, we learned a very important family lesson. There we sat (I laid), two busy parents in the middle of the holiday season, huddled up in the fetal position bribing each other to care for the bare necessities of childcare. For an entire day our children took turns cuddling up with us both in billowing piles of blankets. By the end of the day my son was the most pleasant and content he's been in weeks and my little Miss Daisy had foregone her usual sassy, independent self in favor of a snuggly little lamb.

Our children had been craving some undivided attention and it took a massive sick day effort for us to realize it. While initially I felt like a terrible parent, I have come to believe that it was just me discerning some priorities in the midst of crisis - or finding God's silver lining!

The work on our basement is likely to be finished by this weekend, but you won't find me down there staining or painting. We're taking this final weekend of Advent to enjoy time as a family doing all the things I put off every year like gingerbread houses, light viewing car trips and holiday video viewing. I am going to cook like a madwoman for no one other than my family and spend lots of time snuggling with the kids and my sweet husband.

Searching for a Voice

Where to look?
In a book?
For a sound.

To a colored house or a shape of five?
To people of red and blue, but half alive?
It cannot be found.

No! Seek the truth, the faith, the way!
Find it here, the saints all say.
Even here, my voice is drowned.

I hear it here, right here inside.
Crying to get out alive.
Screaming from the inner self,
to be pulled from the shelf.

A voice discerned,
a heart concerned,
a soul with blessings which abound.

Two small heads entrusted there,
two small hearts taught to care,
My voice, perchance sent heavenbound.

I hear it speak to their small ears,
even through the mindful tears.
Their lives of love and laughter be,
hope for my dying voice eternally.

Funeral Regrets

I recently had the opportunity to attend the funeral of one of my co-worker's fathers. He was a gentle man with a big heart. Though I had never met him, his love and devotion to his family was legendary. When I heard the stories of he and his wife, they were the small and warm gestures that any woman hopes for in her later years. Hand-holding, slow walks, and daily rituals marked the memories of his loved ones. He raised 12 children including a lovely woman with Down Syndrome.

 

However, all of these things could not get me beyond my fear of funerals. I know that death is a part of life and I believe in heaven, but something about funeral masses that seems so final. I know it is supposed to be a ritual release and celebration, but it seems so sad and the black seems anything but celebratory.

 

Kevin says that it is one of the greatest signs of respect and care for a person and their family. No amount of my believing this could get me out of my office chair that day. I regret it. I really do, but I just don't know if I would do it any differently if presented with the opportunity again.

 

I don't have an answer. God and I have to work on this one. In the meantime, I cooked a big meal and left it in the freezer for my co-worker's family.

 

Notes for future reference: No black at my funeral and no sappy "go with God" music. I want praise and worship and guitars...yes, guitars.

My little man is 3 today. Time for the annual post!

Lover of all things branded...Thomas the Tank Engine, Bob the Builder, Cars, Angry Birds (yes, thanks Daddy), Spiderman, and Curious George.

Boy for all feelings...happy, sad, mad, concerned, loving, angry, anxious (oh, so anxious), excited, and jealous.

The little boy who can make any toy fit the purpose. The little people ambulance becomes the Mac Hauler from Cars and the nightlight (yes, removed from the wall) is Guido from Cars. The photo above is of him "tractor tipping".

This year was the one of the Tag Reader which was easily confused in a 2-year-old brain with a basal thermometer. It was the year of bikes, sandboxes, and helping daddy dig in the dirt. This year marked his first plane ride, his first batch of sugar cookies, and his first video game (Angry Birds).

He talks from waking to sleeping and I swear he uses some of my daily ration of words.

John Ross, may you never stop asking questions. May your love of all things action-packed sustain your imagination and may your sweet sleep keep your heart and mind well-grounded in your dreams.

Happy Birthday sweet boy. Mama loves you.

From Gratitude to Generosity

Now would seem like the most appropriate holiday to show you my completed art project. This is the wall in our dining room. Our family tree. Finally, this room is beginng to become uniquely ours as in our last.

I'm grateful for the each breath I take and the gift of each day I wake. I'm grateful for my husband who has become my second breath. I could not exist as the woman I am today without him. I'm grateful for my intelligent and energetic children who daily amaze and inspire me. I'm grateful for my sisters who will always know me better than anyone else (and for those women who've become like sisters to me and will spend the rest of their lives getting to know me despite myself). I'm grateful for my family. I'm grateful for a warm home and the great joy of cooking tasty food. I'm grateful to live in a free country where I can work, live, and play for the benefit of my family.

But gratitude is not enough. These amazing gifts require more from me. Not only am I to accept them grateful, but I must nurture them warmly and responsibly, I must share them with love, charity, and justice, and I must seek to return them to God abundantly.

"What return shall I make for all the good the LORD has done for me?" Psalm 116:12

Questions Before 30: To Conceive or Not to Conceive?

Time for a new series. I will call it, "30 Questions Before 30". There are just somethings that one feels compelled to ask as they approach that middle-aged number and I think it is time to start asking them out loud.

Question 1:
To conceive or not to conceive - did I make the right choice to have my babies so young? Should I have seen the world and enjoyed my 20s with the rest of my peers before diving headlong into the first 18 years of parenthood?

Always in luck, today's answer came before the question. Here's a fascinating article for women who want to be mothers - don't wait to read it until you're "ready". While you may think that science is more on your side than the Church, it may not be...

Fertility math? Most women flunk, survey finds

A Miracle in Our Midst

For those of you who follow my family and their stories of foster care, check out this blog. It is the blog of the beautiful, holy people who adopted our precious little Luke. They arrived to pick up Luke this weekend and the video of their first meeting is posted a little ways down the page. Grab the tissues as we are truly witnessing a miracle in our midst.

http://aconcretewayoflove.wordpress.com/

Please keep Luke and his new family in your prayers as well as my family as they say goodbye.

October 2011 Daybook

Outside My Window ...
The parish courtyard and picnic table. My new office offers a much larger, quieter, and more picturesque view. I'm so grateful for all that God has done in our life recently, but am content with where things are now. It's a bit gray and breezy, but fall is in the air. I can smell it and it stirs my soul in a powerful way.

***

I am listening to...
Well, I'm not listening to it at the very moment, but I am reflecting on the fact that all of the songs played on our local country station this morning seemed just perfectly suited to my state in life today. From married life, to college memories, to my favorite "Good Morning Beautiful" song I just felt like God was blessing me in the words.

***

To Live the Liturgy…
I took a sabbath for myself recently. I have not been away by myself since John Ross was about 6 months old for anything other than work. I went a few hours north of home and spent the weekend resting my soul and getting right with God. On Sunday I took my coffee out into the wind and spent my morning cup with God. The gusty lake wind blew through my hair and the sun came up on my back. The sound of the waves just rushed over my battered soul and the smell of the water intoxicated me. I came home feeling clean, calm, and clear. It very much reminded me of how I feel after confession, but in a very tangible way.

***

To be Fit and Happy…
I had my annual appointment a few months ago and was told that even after 6 weeks of caffeine withdrawals I could continue to feel fatigued for another 6 weeks. I'm so glad I made the choice to wean myself off all but my morning cup of coffee, but it's been rough with the transitions that have been going on in my life and in my routine.

***

I am thankful for ...
My husband who has been so helpful and supportive as we've been making these transitions in our routine. Besides the HUGE basement finishing project, he hasn't complained about my working nights or my unusually quiet nature. He's been thoughtful and considerate. In fact, we have gotten up early the past two mornings for breakfast and coffee together.

***

From the kitchen ...
Swedish meatballs. Fall is here and with it comes some of our favorite recipes. The hearty produce that comes at the end of the season, plus the need to keep a little warm from the inside out lends itself perfectly to an aromatic kitchen and a freezer full of soup! I often make my own meatballs, but I have found that Alton Brown's sauce recipe is a most appropriate match for store bought meatballs on a work night. Pour them over a bed of egg noodles and cut up a few local apricots and dinner is served!

***

I am creating ...
I am not creating anything in particular. I am always knitting something and I am contemplating some really cute fleece robes for my sisters, but until recently I haven't had much time to consider what I am creating, I just create it. If anything, I am trying to create peace in my heart and in my household, which is quite a challenge in an of itself.

***

I am reading…
I've got a couple of interesting biographies and non-fiction pieces about cultures and upbringings. I am really trying to define for myself the definition and type of "culture" I wish to raise my children in and I am finding so much joy in the beauty of traditions. I really do believe that it is important to make a specific decision about the environment in which you wish to raise your children or today's society will just sweep you away.

***

Towards a real education ...
Hate this one every time...no good answer. No direction right now. The farthest I've gotten is Prairie Home Companion tonight...if anything, it is good for at least a bit of the comfort of my childhood.

***

Bringing beauty to my home ...
I'm working on a wall mural for my dining room. I really want to visually play off of the scripture about the wife being a fruitful vine in her home and the children being like olive plants on the table. I am working on a large olive tree that incorporates all of our family photos. I still have to put leaves on the highest branches and add the colorful little olives, but I am quite pleased.

***

I am hoping and praying…
That I can maintain my sense of calm even when the balance is off a bit. I know this fall is going to be full and busy and stressful, but I want to maintain Christ's peace. My sense of anxiety typically rises, I've found, from my belief that I am supposed to feel anxious about something instead of actually feeling that way. I'm trying to shut out some of those imposed constructs and instead focus on discernment between God and I. Not having a whole lot of luck on this one, so I ask prayers.

***

Around the house ...
It is really starting to feel like our home. We've mounted our pot rack and replaced some lights. The fact that the laundry is all put away for the first time in a month and tomorrow's forecast is for rain means a warm, slow, dare I say perfect, Sunday before a really busy week. Good, but busy.

***

One of my favorite things...
I have been wearing my keys on the same green Cabella's cotton lanyard for almost 4 years. With kids and a forgetful mama brain, it is really the only way to carry and keep track of keys. The lanyard recently snapped and I tied it back together. While on my sabbath weekend I found the most lovely silver chain from Brighton that is designed as a ID tag holder, but is also perfect for my keys. It was definitely more than my last lanyard because the last one came wrapped around a t-shirt and hat promotion, but if it last as long or longer than the previous one, it will be well worth it!

***

A Few Plans For The Rest Of The Week...
My sister and brother-in-law are making a mid-week trip to town. We are going to trick-or-treat with the kids in our new neighborhood for the first time, take a day off mid-week to visit Lambeau, do some vintage shopping, and just enjoy their visit. I am so blessed with my very close family and always look forward to whatever time we have together.

***

In Pictures...

Pro-life in a Foster Family

I am a foster sister and although I've mentioned it here from time to time, I offered a more thoughtful pro-life perspective on my journey over here. Please enjoy.

Kids at Mass - Part 2

I have a great follow up to the post that I wrote about a month ago about kids at Mass.

We were asked to be the Godparents to a wonderful little gal who has a special place in my heart. We celebrated the baptism recently and we were so blessed to be with her family that day. However, when we walked into church the community may not have felt so initially blessed to have us.

Picture this...big echoing church, 7 children ages 3 and under, 8:30 Mass...Suffice it to say, our families hair color did not match the majority of those in the congregation for this Mass.

As parents, we were sweating it. I was just praying that mine didn't decide the throw her head back in protest in the middle of the baptism and konk her head on the font...I do believe a comment was made in jest about repeating the other kiddos baptisms (which isn't canonically sound, by the way, once you're baptized, that's it!) or perhaps considering an exorcism!

There were a few outbursts and a few anxious moments, but overall the kids did beautifully! After a particularly long Mass (1.5) hours we didn't have anyone giving us the stink eye and we had a new member of the Church!!!

After Mass we were taking pictures. After all, how often are our two families actually dressed to the nines with our hair done??? As we were heading down the aisle with the priest to take our photos we were both commenting on how well the kids did and the priest looked at us and said,

"Your kids did wonderfully. Kids are our future. We cannot be a pro-life church and complain about how much noise they make or how they need to be breastfed at Mass. We can't speak out both sides of our mouth. As for me, I can always talk louder than they can. And that's the end of my sermon." And he said it all with a big smile.

Wow...what an affirmation. For a couple of families that regularly struggle with our beautiful children in Mass there couldn't have possibly been a more powerful statement made.

Frankly, I'd considered driving 45 minutes each weekend to be a part of that priest's congregation.

The Potter Dilemna

Check out this post from Catholic Mother's Online all about the Harry Potter series. While I've been wanting to post one of my own, I just don't think I could say it any better than this lovely lady!

Step it UP!

Our lives are very full, aren't they?

I love my job, but I hate the stress. Being of a generation that is known for their lack of commitment, it is hard to stay committed to the work that I do. However, I had parents that instilled in me a work ethic and a perserverance that is unique to my generation.

God did not make us for work, but God did make work for us. Work is an activity meant to fulfill the human need for productivity. Work is meant to feed the human soul and it comes in many forms.

Everything you do may not be your passion or utmost interest. Everything you do may not be life-giving. I have some news for my generation: LIFE IS NOT PERFECT. But we all must get through. We all must provide for ourselves. We are called to use our giftedness (not just our passions) to care for our families and our world regardless of how wonderful it makes us feel. Your gift may be for multi-tasking which you love to apply in your passion for cooking, but if you can't find a job as a chef, you can most certainly still use your giftedness as an administrative assistant.

Waiting for perfection is not an excuse for laziness and it gives our generation a really bad reputation. Find a way to use your gifts. Find a way to better yourself and your community. Make a commitment and stick to it. Follow through. It is through hard work, follow-through and accountability that most successful people make their way to a vocation that they love. And for those of you who fall back-end into your dream job, earn it - don't just take it for granted.

And even then, even the most perfect vocation will always require sacrifice.

My Love of Farm Eggs

I have fallen in love with farm eggs.

I have been assured that a photo of chicks is not sadistic when discussion the consumption of eggs because these chicks are not the ones sacrificed for the sake of my eggs, but instead will grow up to lay my beautiful wonderful eggs.

The sweet, variously shaped, beautifully brown, and curiously rich product of local hens.

I keep a dozen in my fridge along side my cheap, white, mass-produced variety.

You may ask: why use more than one kind?

Well, here's the thing. I have a family and I do a lot of cooking. The concept of two kinds of eggs runs along the same lines as the whole CSA and Sams Club membership paradox. A lot of my baking recipes call for eggs as one of many ingredients which makes the recipe a perfect candidate for inexpensive eggs. However, I have come to LOVE homemade carbonara where egg is pretty much the prima donna of the dish. That would be a recipe that seductively beckons for the rich subtlty of a fresh farm egg.

God has given us so many wonderful gifts in our world from the simplicity of a laying hen to the technological complexity of mass agriculture. Each has it's place and supports a delicate web of beneficiaries, just as each type of egg can have a place in my kitchen repetoire.

While we're on the subject, anyone want to teach me how to poach the perfect egg? I'm feeling a round of perfectly pink steak and eggs...

Praise the Lord that Singing is Like Praying Twice!

We had company a few weekends ago. My best friend and college roommate came for a quick visit to see us, although I do suspect that her adorable Godson was more of the motivation. We shopped, we ate, we relaxed on the back deck.

Before bed on Saturday night I said to my dear friend (who happens to be the daughter of a United Methodist minister and of the denomination herself), “Say Jess, would you be willing to watch the kiddos tomorrow morning so Kevin and I can go to Mass without them?”

I am not one that believes in not bringing your children to church when they are young, but quite frankly it is virtually impossible to establish any focus with our two monkeys climbing all over us.

Well, being that she has spent nearly as much time learning the Catholic tradition as the Methodist due to the nature of her schooling and is in a searching state at the moment, attending various churches and denominations, she replied, “No, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d really like to go. I can help with the kids.”

Ha.
LOL.

The only good things about that Sunday Mass were the facts that we arrived on time and the church didn’t have air conditioning. Arriving on time allowed us to sit in front so that the only poor soul watching our children was the priest and the fans, which lack any effective cooling properties did effectively drown out most of our children’s chatter, whining, and admirable attempts at singing. We only had one removal and one sickening thud of head against pew.

As I dripped sweat and seethed over the dirty looks the priest had given us (didn’t Jesus say “Let the children come!” – and I bet those kids weren’t exactly quiet either!!!), and my blood pressure sky-rocketed. We hadn’t even peeled our thighs off the pew after the closing him when my dear friend turned to all of us and said, “Next time, I’ll keep the kids.”

While that statement alone is enough of a punch line, I’m working hard at looking for the bright side. Perhaps God is in fact SO GOOD that my song (the only thing I can do wholeheartedly at Mass anymore) counts as praying twice!

UPDATE: We've been having a debate over here at the parish office about appropriate behavior/parenting at Mass. We had an older parishioner scold a young mom for letting her little one pace the pew. This is not a new mom, but one with some seasoning. What are your thoughts? Leave me a note. Is welcoming children a matter of hospitality or is it inhospitable to the others around them? I'll weigh in with our opinion shortly...:)

Why I Envy Runners

Let me clear something up. My title may have implied that I have a desire to run. I do not, have not, and will never have a desire to put on short shorts, a tight top and a pair of expensive running shoes. Running shoes in my world are best for long days at the office followed by a teaching night on my feet. They are light and they breathe. Beyond that, they serve no purpose in my life.

That being said, my best friend from high school is a runner. She loves to run and becomes distraught when time or injury prevents her from doing so. I’ve been keeping up with her over at her blog and I can honestly say that the other day I envied her passion for self-mutilation.

As I read her post I couldn’t help but envy the fact that her hobby, her passion, is something that allows her such an amazing stress relief. As I read her post I could feel how the pressure just melted away and I wished I had something in my life that gave me that physical and emotional fulfillment.

I actually packed my running shoes, shorts and a t-shirt into my work bag for the next day. Sadly, they are still sitting in my work closet mocking me because, oh yeah, I hate running.

It is what it is. I will never be a runner, but I love to walk and it is almost fall in Wisconsin. There is nothing more wonderful than an after dinner walk on a cool fall night in Wisconsin. I guess it is more about making it a priority (there’s that word again), than it is about what you do. My friend runs because it is a priority. It is something she MUST do and just does. It is a very part of her and as such is so healthy for her.

One thing I can do that most runners do is cook. This particular recipe came upon recommendation from my dear runner friend and it is AMAZING. Don’t be fooled. It is the easiest and most perfect end of summer recipe full of wonderful fresh produce and herbs. A quick stop at the farmers market and about an hour and you’ll have yourself a beautiful corn and tomato pie. (I have just revealed to you my newest obsession the Smitten Kitchen blog – why couldn’t you have come into my life at the beginning of my relaxing summer instead of the end??? Oh, and someday I have to tell you all about my homemade ricotta experiment…my heavens, it was as smooth as my baby girl’s cheek!!!)

The defininition of insane...

…is doing something more than once and expecting a different result the second time.

So why is it that my 18 month old daughter continues to open the drawer in the coffee table and then slam her fingers in it?

Oh yeah, she’s 18 months. And a girl. And my daughter.

Three strikes and this little girl is out her independent own!

John Ross was such a mellow little guy compared to this one. She screams, growls, and pushes. She’s either all in or all out. Even at 18 months she’s yelling at the kitty and demanding her birth-right time with her daddy. She throws diapers and calls them footballs.

And yet…she is sweet, loving and completely obsessed with shoes!!!! Anything that shimmers or shines is “pittee” and her eyes are the dictionary definition of sparkling.



I can’t wait to see how the Lord uses this one. I harbor some early fears that being this perfect storm of her papa and me, she will actually try to accomplish some of the daring things I only dreamed of in my younger years.

More on that later…intervention is necessary in a train track bludgeoning…and the antagonizing suspect is not male!

Forever a Bridesmaid

I recently came across some photos that my sister had given me from her wedding last year. There were photos of she and her hubby and photos of the wedding party, but there was also a photo of myself waiting to walk down the aisle as one of her bridesmaids.

At the time I had just stopped nursing Clara and was feeling a little down on myself. I was back to work, over my ideal post-baby weight, and I had just cut my hair because a lot of it was falling out post-partum.

Yet, I remembered a comment my sister had made when she first gave me the photos. She said, "Look at these photos of you girls walking down the aisle. In the pictures of you and Jenny (her sister-in-law) you can clearly tell that you are looking at your husbands."

I remember that moment. I looked down the aisle and finding the gaze of my husband at the altar. It was a very sacramental moment for me as I recalled my own journey down the aisle and all the things we had already been through. My heart filled with love and peace and my eyes welled up with happy tears. Walking down the aisle became a testament to the power of a God-filled marriage. We were "leading the way" for my beautiful sister and her husband. I was truly to be a handmaid, serving her by example and presence.

In a world where weddings have become a greater focus than the marriage this comment really made me reflect on the role of the bridesmaid. Sometimes it seems as though a wedding and a bridal party is all about an opportunity for adult dress-up. Yet, the beautiful ritual that is the Sacrament of Marriage prevents us from becoming too caught up in it. We are reminded that the old traditions of the bridesmaids, dressing, carrying, and leading, are not just folly. We stand as witness to the marriage, but more importantly as servants and guides.

My wedding day was one of the most powerful and sacramental days of my life. Moreover, standing up in my sister's wedding with my husband was one of the most powerful renewals of our vows and our vocation that I have experienced to this point. I am reminded that marriage is a journey and it is a journey that we do not take alone. We travel with God, our three in One. With God we co-create, we sanctify, and we serve our marriage and our world and while we do that we lead the way for other holy men and women who are watching our example.

All that from a wedding photo and a 20 minute drive to work...

My Little Red Blessings

Moving was stressful. I somehow got it into my head that after an 18 month selling/buying process that once we signed the papers it would all be over. I saw our closing date as a finish line. OOPS!

The transition to our new home, while wonderful, has been quite challenging. Daylight savings had our children rising at ridiculously early hours of the morning and constant pleas to "go home" kept them from wanting to sleep at night. We invested in a color-changing clock (to indicate time to get up) and room darkening blinds and that seemed to remedy the waking times, but we still heard a lot of "go home".

On our way to church one morning as we sat on the exit ramp which also leads to our old home we heard John Ross whiny quietly in the back seat, "home, Scoopy's home, go home" while pointing out his window. It nearly broke us...

We've continued to work hard to explain old home and new home and discuss the benefits of our new home. The kids love to be outside all the time and now have a place to ride their bikes. They both have their own rooms were they can play toys and store their stuff. We are a short walk from the shoreline of Green Bay and have a much bigger, less stressful kitchen/dining area. They regularly voice their joy in these new things so I know that it is just going to take time.

Amidst all of the stress and transition there have been a few affirming moments that have reminded us that this was GOD'S plan even if we are still working through the human struggles. From the beautiful bay breezes to the wonderful neighbors we know that this is where God meant for us to be.

The most recent example of this was a little surprise that we discovered in our back rock garden. While trimming, Kevin thought he recognized strawberry plants. Yes, even after Kevin hacked half of the patch back (not realizing what they were at first) we had at least 5 pints of little red strawberries! What a treat to take the kids out and let them discover all the beautiful little red surprises in the patch! Except for one batch of strawberry shortcake, we ate them right out of the garden and indulged gratefully in our little red berries. In fact, my sweet little Clara has added the word "berries" to her vocabulary just to celebrate!

I've always wanted fruit plants and trees, but we've never had the space or the sun. What a gift to this black thumb to find thriving, sweet produce ready for the picking!!! These little sweet packages have done worlds of good for my tired soul and aching body. Who would have thought that such a small little thing would bring such joy and peace?

And, as an added bonus, they've gotten me out to care for the garden. My husband has finally realized (or accepted) that the best way to motivate or satisfy me is by attaching a food experience! To quote him, "If I'd have known that all I had to do to get you out to the garden was plant a few strawberries, I would have done it years ago!"

The Tale of My Wedding Dress

I recently read a beautiful tale of two wedding dresses over at Falling Upward blog and it got me to thinking about my own wedding dress. I thought I'd share.

Kevin proposed to me 3 weeks before I was laid off. If we hadn't been engaged our story may have been very different. I was alone in Green Bay with 18 months of work experience in a field I had no education in and I was locked into an apartment lease. My unemployment payments barely covered my rent and my meager savings would only have lasted a few months. If it hadn't been for our engagement, I very well may have moved back to Ohio where my parents were living at the time.

Instead, unemployed and engaged in a strange city, Kevin paid my other bills while we looked for another job. I was laid off right before the economy turned and so the market was already beginning to slow. I spent the entire 7 months we were engaged looking for jobs and doing decorating projects on Kevin's house. Two months before our wedding my landlord was able to lease my apartment to someone new and I moved into the upstairs bedroom at Kevin's house. While you most certainly can insert judgements here, it was the reality of our situation and I don't believe in making up stories to keep people reading.

Suffice it to say, our engagement was a joyfully cautious time. Without a job it was hard to make decisions about a wedding that would cost money. We kept things very simple. Our guest list was 40 people and we hosted a dinner at a local restaurant. Because it was so small, there was some frustration and hurt from others who assumed they would be guests. So, instead of being happy for us many of our family members voiced upset and anger.

When it came to the dress, while I wanted to look beautiful on my wedding day it didn't really seem to matter at the time. My mom was in a place in her life and my sisters were at an age that they were not able to come and be with me as I made the decision on a dress. I set a very modest budget and knew that I couldn't EVER justify spending more on a dress that I would wear for a few hours. My future sister-in-law and niece went with me to try on dresses. That in itself is slightly amusing because my sister-in-law is pretty far from a girly-girl.

I tried on several that I thought I would like and didn't and finally settle on a simple, no train, strapless beaded gown with a sweetheart neckline. I would have prefered to wear something with straps for Mass, my budget didn't really gift me that option in a style that otherwise flattered me. I didn't have it lengthened because I wore flats and I didn't want a veil. I bought a corset and jewelry and made my clutch to match. Since dinner was scheduled for before the ceremony I also made an ivory cocktail dress to wear for dinner.

By the time the wedding day arrived I had gained a few stress pounds and was grateful for the corset and the relief of an a-line gown. We were running late and I dove into my gown and slapped on some fresh lipstick about 10 minutes before Mass.

I didn't feel stunning or show-stopping. I don't even feel like it was the most beautiful day of my life.

Against my dad's recommendation, I didn't carry flowers. He was worried about my hands shaking from nerves and needing something to hold onto.

But in the end, the second I took my dad's arm and look down the aisle at my future I felt loved. Knowing that we had already thrived despite one of the hardest experiences in life gave me a sense of confidence and security that overcame all of my superficial insecurities about my appearance.

As I took that first step all of the worldly things that tradionally mattered didn't any more. I was beautiful and I was loved. I was marrying a man that was going to stand by me and love me no matter what I was wearing or how pretty my hair looked. I was marrying a man whose only care was to see me wear a smile.

Today my dress hangs in my closet. I have every intention of wearing it again. I am currently on the hunt for a seamstress that will convert my simple a-line gown into a cocktail dress for our 5th anniversary. I plan to hold onto the extra fabric to incorporate into my children's wedding garments. At the time the dress didn't really matter, but today it is symbol of our fidelity, our perserverance, and the simple beauty of our love. It is a symbol and dare I say a"sacramentary" to be passed on to future generations in love and fidelity.