good enough
Saturday, February 16, 2013
Katie reached out to me in our early days of alopecia. So wonderful see her story on this short film. Please watch.
ash wednesday
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
it's cold and dreary today. it's ash wednesday, so it's a fitting day for reflection.
we've almost been in the Catholic Church for a year. If I am honest, its been kind of lonely this year. It is strange to feel home and yet an outcast- which is a funny thing to feel. I have been thinking a lot about the implications of straying from your own tradition- I feel the ache that some must feel when they leave their home country, to never go back. Home and tradition are a part of our very fabric. You cannot undo the threads, or it all unravels.
This Sunday in Mass, we sang a hymn that I grew up in singing in the Methodist Church. It made me smile, but that ache was there, too. Will these threads ever match the old ones, or will my story be this crazy mis matched blanket?
Becoming Catholic has made me more mindful of other's traditions. I used to box people in, assign them to categories, and if I am honest, judge their spirituality as good, better, best, etc...
But the older I get, the less I really know, and even more- the less I am drawn to those who think they have gotten it right.
On this Ash Wednesday, I hold hands with all who have looked in the mirror and say, "I was made from dust, and to dust I shall return".
It is God who judges our hearts. It is Jesus who died to make it right. Billions of people every week show up Church, in all of it various traditions to ultimately acknowledge that Christ walked that lonely road to the Cross, and all of our waking moments and hope for wholeness again lean on that one fact.
Maybe you kneel and bow. Maybe you raise your hands to the air. Maybe you eat and drink Jesus every week, and maybe you think all that is hocus pocus.
I hold hands with you.
And perhaps there is irony in being Catholic and doing so, and maybe I am not a very good Catholic.
But I am a prideful woman, whose heart is wretched. But when I bend my achey knee, and cross my body, and say amen when the bread goes in my mouth- There is something in this stubborn soul that relents, gives up, and acknowledges a deep need of love and forgiveness.
we've almost been in the Catholic Church for a year. If I am honest, its been kind of lonely this year. It is strange to feel home and yet an outcast- which is a funny thing to feel. I have been thinking a lot about the implications of straying from your own tradition- I feel the ache that some must feel when they leave their home country, to never go back. Home and tradition are a part of our very fabric. You cannot undo the threads, or it all unravels.
This Sunday in Mass, we sang a hymn that I grew up in singing in the Methodist Church. It made me smile, but that ache was there, too. Will these threads ever match the old ones, or will my story be this crazy mis matched blanket?
Becoming Catholic has made me more mindful of other's traditions. I used to box people in, assign them to categories, and if I am honest, judge their spirituality as good, better, best, etc...
But the older I get, the less I really know, and even more- the less I am drawn to those who think they have gotten it right.
On this Ash Wednesday, I hold hands with all who have looked in the mirror and say, "I was made from dust, and to dust I shall return".
It is God who judges our hearts. It is Jesus who died to make it right. Billions of people every week show up Church, in all of it various traditions to ultimately acknowledge that Christ walked that lonely road to the Cross, and all of our waking moments and hope for wholeness again lean on that one fact.
Maybe you kneel and bow. Maybe you raise your hands to the air. Maybe you eat and drink Jesus every week, and maybe you think all that is hocus pocus.
I hold hands with you.
And perhaps there is irony in being Catholic and doing so, and maybe I am not a very good Catholic.
But I am a prideful woman, whose heart is wretched. But when I bend my achey knee, and cross my body, and say amen when the bread goes in my mouth- There is something in this stubborn soul that relents, gives up, and acknowledges a deep need of love and forgiveness.
Millie, on your 2nd birthday. a day late.
Friday, February 08, 2013
Dear Millie,
I don't know how you are 2, but you are.
You are starting to sing so well, and you carry a good tune, girl! You are so funny- I can already tell you are going to keep us laughing. You are always trying to "get" us or your sister- it is hilarious to watch.
You are a really good sleeper unless your ears are hurting- for this I am so thankful.
You are definitely getting feisty. Hello terrible 2's! So far, not so bad, but you are busy and not containable at this point, so we don't go out much unless it is at a park, or some place I can convince you that the stroller is a good idea. I mean, yes, we make our grocery runs and what not, but dinners out are on hold for awhile. It just shaves about 5 years off my life every time we attempt to do it!
However, I did finally release my crazy over protective whatever, and let you and Annie play for an hour in the chick-fil-a playroom while I sipped on tea and talked to my friend. It was nice, actually, and I may have just created a monster. we'll see.
but hey, it's feb, and we've got at least another month of dealing with cold weather, and well, we just do what we have to do.
You continue to love shoes, particularly the sparkly hand me downs from addison that are at least 3 sizes too big.
You also love being naked.
sigh.
All in all, you are just a really happy little kid, with a strut in her step. A friend of mine called you the "sheriff", and I think that's pretty accurate. You just like to survey the scene and make sure everyone is doing the right thing:)
Oh Millie, how I love you so. I could kiss those chubby cheeks and knees all day long. We all are quite smitten with you and can't wait to see your little story unfold.
and your sister, she just loves you to pieces. She calls you "Millia", which I love. I hope you will be best friends. There is nothing like a sister.
Let's not forget your favorite book, "llama llama red pajamas". I love this book, too. and how much you love "gogurt" , salsa, and cheese dip. and how could I forget the ever growing list of necessary objects it takes to get you to bed. paci, lovie, blankie, bear, puppy and sippy cup. And you will wake me up at all hours of the night if one has been lost.
I'm sure there is more, but there you have the highlights.
hugs and kisses. all my love.
mama
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