The Spirit of Christmas

 Merry Christmas!!!

This year was one for the books and not necessarily in a good way.  Death, disaster, and destruction found it's way into our home this year.  Since losing my Mama in February, nothing has been the same.  The air feels different.  Food tastes different.  I am different.

I said it before and I'll say it again, grief sucks, man.

This Christmas season I have been looking for the Christmas Spirit.  I have not been able to find it.  I've been praying, listening to Christmas music since October, looking at my decorations, wrapping presents and yet, no Spirit.

Usually, I go to Mass on Christmas Eve.  However, this year with the weather all stormy and dark (which I love, just not driving in), I decided to go early on Christmas Day.

It was a beautiful Mass, however, I was having a hard time concentrating on the Mass itself.  I was people watching, looking at the beautiful nativity, just lost in my own thoughts.  Despite this, my attention would always come back to the Mass.  Nope, no Christmas Spirit yet.  I guess it was not going to happen this year.

As the Mass was ending, we began to sing the recessional song, "Joy to the World".  "Joy to the world, the Lord has come, let earth receive her King".  And, in the packed church, my eyes weld up with tears and my arms were covered in chills.  Her King.  My King.  My Lord has never and will never forget me.  The Spirit of Christmas had found me, finally.  My King had arrived!

This Advent season, I had been yearning to feel the Spirit of Christmas, and on Christmas day, I finally did.  Grief is never easy, and it's harder at the holidays to be sure.  But, with Jesus and Big Daddy, I survived.   Not only did I survive what I thought would for sure kill me, I had a multitude of blessings this year.  And on that is what I choose to focus on.  Death, disaster, and destruction did not win.  Jesus did.  And He will forever win.  May you hold the Spirit of Christmas in your heart all year round.

Love,

Me

Fr. Mike, Honesty, and my Mama

It's the third week of Advent.  The week of joy.

I can honestly say I haven't felt the Christmas spirit yet.  And, if I'm honest, I don't know if I'm going to this year.  I've joked that the only way I'll get the Christmas spirit this year is if I'm visited by 4 ghosts on Christmas eve.

Grief sucks, man.

I said it before and I'll say it again.  I miss my Mama more than I ever thought possible.  I miss her hugs, her wisdom, her laugh, and her joy.  I miss her telling me that everything is going to be okay.

But, I'm alive.  I'm here, and I'm trying.  Sort of.  Fr. Mike's homily this week was a good one (they usually are) and it resonated with me.  He talked about how we come to Jesus.  I'm paraphrasing here, do we come to Him as we truly are?  Are we honest with ourself on who we truly are?  Do we hide parts of ourself from Him?  After listening to this, it has sent me inward the last 24 hours.

I always felt/thought I came to Jesus as I am.  What you see is what you get.  That I want His will (mostly) in my life.  I come to Him in prayer for myself and others.  I've always said, I don't front.  I'm not a thee and thou girl.  I'm a here's what's going on, Dad, girl.  Going inward these last 24 hours, I realized I kinda do front. 

I'm broken.  Way more than I ever thought or realized.  I get up everyday,  slap a smile on my face, and do what needs to be done.  But, the smile isn't as genuine as it use to be.  Yes, I miss my father-in-love.  Yes, I miss my Mama.  Yes, I miss estranged family members.  Yes, I'm blessed beyond measure.  But, if I'm honest, I've been lying to God and myself.  I'm angry.  Hurt.  Tired.  I keep saying this path that I've been on for the last three years is my joy to walk.  And, it is.  But, mostly, I hate it.  I had a different future with my family planed.  I had way more joy, laughter, trips, vacations, laughter, date nights, and family time envisioned.  Not fighting with insurance, doctor visits, hospital stays, strained relationships, or funerals.  I don't like this path I'm called to walk.  But I walk it, because He asked me to.  Do I walk it joyfully?  Some days yes, some days, no.  I'm envious of others (not in a I don't want you to have it, but I want it too way).  Of their family relationships, of their trips, their vacations, their traditions, their date nights.  That's what I had planned.  I'm hurt that I don't get that.  I feel like a little kid having a tantrum "it's not fair".  But as my Mama always said "whoever told you life was fair was lying to you".   I want God's will.  I honestly do.  But, if I'm honest, I also want my will.  Can't they coincide every once in a while? 

One particular night, in the middle of the night, I awoke to use the restroom and I remember clearly talking to God "I will walk this path because you're asking me too", I said.  I don't like this path I'm being asked to walk.  But I walk it out of obedience and love for Him.  And, this path has brough unexpected blessings.   That said, I know His plans are always better than mine.  I know He has a future for me full of love and hope.  Is He trying to teach me something, probably.  Most likely.  Do I know what it is yet?  Nope.  Not a chance.  But, I trust in Him.  And, so I walk, putting one foot in front of the other.

Yes, I'm broken, for now.  On the plus side, I'm not fronting anymore (I didn't realize I was).  And now, maybe, I can begin to heal and find my joy.

Wishing you a blessed Advent season.

Love,

Me

Movies, Music, and My Mama

 Did you ever see the movie Babe?  It's a fabulous movie about a pig.  There's a scene in the when Babe says in a sad tone "I want my mum".  I've said that a lot over the years.  Although we talked almost every day, sometimes I just wanted a hug from her.  She made everything better.  It's been eighteen days since my Mama passed and I feel quite hollow.  I get up every day and do my daily routine.  Awake, pee, brush teeth, wash face, let Iggy out, get Big Daddy set for work.  The rest of my day is filled with the mundane; grocery shopping, cooking, laundry, et al.  I abhor laundry more than any other task.  It's the putting it all away for me.  I don't know why. 

There's an old movie I loved as a kid, Little Lord Fauntleroy.  It's a movie about a boy (Ricky Schroeder) and stars Alec Guinness.  SPOILER ALERT!!!!  At the end of the movie, Ricky Schroeder's Mom comes out from behind the Christmas tree.  Ever since we moved away from being local to my Mama 23 years ago, my wish was that she would come out from behind my Christmas tree each year.  It didn't happen and each year I would say 'next year'!  The last few years as my Mama's health became more challenging, I knew it would never happen, but I still wished she would surprise me.  The reality of that dream being no longer possible greatly saddens me.

My Mama and I connected on so many levels, not just movies (we loved Funny Girl and very bad B movies, They Call Me Bruce, and Rhinestone) but music.  We had two songs that were wholly ours:  I Just Called to Say I Love You as well as You and Me Against the World.  I grew up listening to my Mama sing everything from Helen Ready, Captain & Tennille, to opera.  Some of my very favorite memories as a teenager was playing the piano while my Mama or my sister would sing.  

While movies and music are wonderful, the best gift my Mama gave me was my faith.  As a cradle Catholic, I grew up getting the sacraments and went to church every Sunday.  While I didn't understand the why of it as a child, I knew it as it's just what we did.  We didn't talk a lot about Jesus and faith while I was growing up.  Rather, it was quietly instilled.  We prayed before every meal, we were taught to say our prayers, and my Mama let me know if ever I needed anything, Jesus was there.  I would talk to God, but really didn't listen for an answer, just talk.  As I became older, and I'd like to think somewhat wiser, we had more talks about faith, Jesus, and the Saints.  I still talk to Jesus and even pause to listen for His voice sometimes lol

While I miss my Mama so much, sometimes it's hard to breathe, my faith, the faith that she instilled in me continues and will continue to sustain me.

 Until next time, know I am praying for your intentions.

Love,

Me

100 Days

Well, it has been some time, hasn't it?  Since my last blog post, we've moved cities, build a home, lost jobs, gained jobs, faced health issues, lost loved ones, became empty nesters, and found our tribe.  The kids are all grown and married and we now have THREE grandchildren!  Through all of this there was sadness, pain, joy, faith and a multitude of love.

I titled this post 100 days because it sounds better than 98.  In 98 days we took two trips to Philadelphia, Big Daddy's dad, whom I've claimed as my own dad for the last 25 years, the most brilliant person I've ever known, passed away.  Then, both girls were married, three weeks apart.  Throw in Thanksgiving, Christmas, a trip to Myrtle Beach, and then 15 days ago, my mama, the keeper of my heart, passed away.  During these 98 days there was absolute joy and soul crushing sorrow.  However, the thing that persists, the reason I get out of bed in the morning, is my faith.  That, and the fact I have to pee.

Faith doesn't mean that everything is going to be easy, it means I'm going to be okay no matter what is happening.  I'm blessed that I was able to be at both of their bedsides and tell them how much I love them and how much they meant to me.  Both, for different reasons.  I'm blessed with the love and strength of our tribe that has sustained me daily, especially when I don't realize it.  I'm blessed that God brought me Big Daddy and his parents, the greatest in-laws to ever walk the faith of the earth.  I'm blessed that we added two sons to our family.  I don't like the term in-law as to me, it comes across as 'the law says you have to let me into your home'.  Meh, do I reaaally?  We not only welcomed two new sons into our home, but into our hearts.    They (and their families) are the perfect spouses for our girls.  Lest I leave my daughter-in-love out, our friendship and love have grown exponentially over the last four years.  I'm blessed to have watched our children grow into wonderful adults.  Were the last few years easy?  No.  Not at all.  There were arguments, hurt feelings, anger, and resentment.  But, there was also, forgiveness, friendship, grace, and love.  Any relationship, be it friendship, marriage, or relationships with your adult children, they take work.  No one is perfect.  Perfection is a myth.  That has taken me too many years to realize.  There are going to be arguments, disagreements, anger, et al.  The key is forgiveness and grace both for yourself and them (I'm working on forgiving myself and giving myself grace, it's not always easy).  Does that mean my relationship with my friends and children are perfect?  Nope, not a chance.  While they are good, there is always room for improvement.  I'm a type A control freak with OCD.  I want my family and my tribe all to live next door (at least within five seconds, don't you know).  I want them to have amazing lives, I want to have big gatherings with them all.  It doesn't work like that.  They have their own lives, dreams, and goals.  I am blessed that I get to be a part of it.

Through the last few months, I've been depressed, angry, sad, and yes, joyful.  And through it all my faith, family, and my tribe is what sustained me.  I know no matter how bad things are that God is using my pain, sorrow, and joy, for a reason.  And, while I selfishly want to know the reason, most days, I'm content in not knowing.   I know that while I am mourning the loss of those who had the most profound affect on my life, that I am not alone.  I am never alone.  God, Big Daddy, and my tribe surround me with love, patience, and sometimes a kick in the arse when needed.

Until next time, I wish you faith that can move mountains and a tribe of your very own.

Love,

Me

Pittsburgh in Texas

Yesterday, I spent two hours sitting outside of our new home that is in the middle of construction.  As I sat there, I worked from my phone, answered messages, and marveled at the men who were bricking my new home.  I can hear some of you now.  "Why are you sitting outside for two hours in front of a house that isn't even finished?"  Well, grab a glass of sweet tea, or my favorite, a glass of cold water, and I'll tell you.

As Big Daddy will attest, I LOVE looking at homes.  New homes, old homes, going to open houses, looking at homes on Realtor.com all of it.  It's a hobby.  Big Daddy on the other hand is not.  I like to get ideas for different rooms, the yard, colors, etc.  Sixteen years ago, we moved to Texas.  Fifteen years ago, we purchased our first home.  The control freak in me knows what I want, what I'm looking for, so, I didn't just let my realtor do the work and sit back.  In the end, I found what would be our first home.  The house was perfect for us.  It was a two story with the master bedroom up.  Something hard to find in Texas.  Back home in Pittsburgh, it was the norm.  Being that my children were still young, I din't want them to have to come downstairs if they needed something in the middle of the night.  The backyard had a Magnolia tree.  Big Daddy and I lived in the outskirts of Charleston, SC for years and my Mama still does.  The Magnolia tree is all over Charleston, so it was like having a piece of home with me.  The front yard had a huge, honkin' tree in the front and I love big, old trees.  It was the perfect home for us.  While we were waiting to close, I would go to the house (I knew the lock box code) and would sit inside of the house and just marvel at this beautiful home.  Our first home.  It was ours.  I loved imagining where I would put furniture, what colors I'd paint, everything.

You see, yesterday was no different.  I sat outside our new home, marveling at the worker on the ground throwing 2 bricks at a time up to the worker on the scaffolding.  You may think it's no big deal.  To me, it was pretty cool to see.  Our home has been under construction for a few weeks.  The workers know my car now.  I smile and wave.  I love walking through the house and watching the changes.  Where there was an empty lot became a foundation.  Then the foundation, then plumbing was added.  Then came a frame.  Walls were added.  And then a roof!  I was so excited, I videoed my mom, my sister, and Big Daddy saying "we have a ROOF" lol!  Next was insulation, then drywall.  I've walked through the house countless times and will be walking through it countless more.  The construction manager doesn't mind.  He even welcome's my visits!  I like seeing the evolution of my home.  I keep my family updated (I send my dad pictures weekly!) so they can be a part of the process.

I'm at the house a few times a week, some weeks daily, but never more than a half hour, until yesterday.  I sat outside and envisioned sitting outside on our back porch swing marveling at the Texas sky that I will never get tired of.  I envisioned working in my study.  Decorating the new home.  I know where my Ascension of Mary painting is going (right across from my study).  I know where my cross wall is going (in the kitchen across from my Island).  I know by the kitchen table my hobbit meal plaque is going on the wall.  I know that to left of my kitchen sink will go a sign that says "this kitchen is for dancing".  I know where the tables will be placed for bunco with my tribe.  I know where the Christmas tree is going.  And, I know that I'll be putting a flamingo in my front yard.

I am in love with our new community.  All it needs is a Kroger and I'd never have to leave the subdivision!  It's beautiful and my neighbors?  They're awesome!  I've met so many of them online in our community group, even neighbors who live on my street!  The community is a mix of young families, empty-nesters, everything in between.

God has a sense of humor.  If you told me when I was younger that this Steeler loving girl from the 'Burgh was going to move to Texas and love it, I said you must be drunk.  But yet, here I am, about to level up to 50, nausiatingly, happily married, having the best family and tribe that anyone could be blessed with, and I loving that I get to help others everyday.  God sure knows what He's doing!

Until next time,
Don't just imagine your dreams, make them come true!
Love,
Me

Thankful Thursday

I was prepared.  As the mom of an Eagle Scout, I wouldn't expect anything less.  I was so prepared for Lent.  I went to confession, I went to the Parish Mission, I had my daily prayer time.  I was ready!  I was ready for new wineskins!  And then, life happened.

Mind you it was nothing bad.  Quite exciting actually.  But my focus was diverted.  No longer was this Lenten season my focus.  No, there were trips to take, surprises to share, laundry to do, projects to work on.  Gone went the dedicated prayer time I had set aside, the Rosary, and the podcasts.  My focus was diverted and I didn't even notice it happening.

Today is Holy Thursday.  It's the time when Jesus washed His apostles feet.  He showed them, and us, how to be.  We must put ourselves last.  We are here to serve, not be served.  If everyone puts everyone else first, then aren't we all first and all our needs being met?  If I put my husband first and he puts me first, aren't we both well taken care of?  If I serve my sister from my heart and she serves me from her heart, aren't we both being served in love?  If the whole world, heck, if my family did this, we would all be served and feel loved.

I fall short everyday.  I have grand plans on how I want things to go and how I want to be.  I get in my own way, I trip over my own feet, I stumble often.  I want to be better.  I want to be better than I was last year, last week, yesterday.   Easter is almost here.  I am reminded how Jesus loves me.  I say loves and not loved because He still loves me.  In my faults, in my failings, in my sorrows and in my joys.  He loves me.  I am reminded that there is no sin so great that it would stop Him from loving me.  And that, my dear friends, is what I am thankful for every single day, with every breath I take.  In all my preparation and grand plans, I remain a sinner.  And, while I desire to be the best I can be, knowing that when I fall short, I am still loved, is what matters most.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 8:38-39.

Wishing you a blessed Holy Week.

Until next time,

Put someone else first.  

Love,

Me

Transformation Tuesday

When you are the black sheep of the family, it's hard to find your place.  I've pretty much been the black sheep in most every situation (family, school, etc).  I've always been different.  I don't just march to the beat of my own drum, I have my own marching band.  

Who decided the 'people that are suppose to love you unconditionally' are your family?  Who gave us black sheep that expectation?  Who drilled it in to our heads and made us feel that if our own family doesn't accept us, we are unworthy or that there is something wrong with us?  I have no clue who it was, but I'd love to give them a piece of my mind.

At 35 I found out where I belonged.  To and with God.  Which is wonderful and great and all of that.  But where do I fit in here on the Earth?  I have a few family members who did and still do accept me unconditionally and that is awesome.  But I do not get to see them often.  15 years ago, Big Daddy and I attended an event at church and met another couple.  The four of us hit it off.  I found out that the wife and I would be on the same retreat in the coming weeks and I asked God to place her at my table so I would at least know someone as we were new to the parish.  It should be no surprise, that He did just that.  Fifteen years ago, I met my family.

I get offended when people like to decided who MY family is.  "Oh you're sisters in Christ!"  "Oh you're not blood family."  My 'sister' is the one who has seen me at my worst.  My 'sister' is the one who has comforted me through panic attacks, held me as I cried, comforted me when I lamented how my own father doesn't accept me.  My 'sister ' was there at the scary times not just the good times.  My 'sister' has celebrated my wins and loved me through my losses.  My 'sister'  has called me out when I wasn't being or doing my best.  Having my 'sister' led to another 'sister' and a 'brother', and the most wonderful couple, their parents.  Their Dad hung a 4 foot crucifix with my son in our home eons ago.  My own father never saw that house.  He was invited, but has never come to Texas to visit us in the almost 16 years we have lived here.  

Big Daddy's parents are the best in-loves anyone could as for.  They both accepted me as their own.  They are the most loving people you could ever meet.  They have never treated me anything less than a daughter (not a daughter-in-law).  In fact, I claimed Dad as mine.  Not just Big Daddy's. 

This weekend, I went home to surprise my 'family' for Rosemary's 84th birthday.  It was the first time I was able to visit my 'sister' Barb and her family at their home.  Home is exactly where I was.  The home overflows with love from the dogs to the grown kids, to my 'sister' and her husband.

Love is when you surprise Rosemary and your 'sister' is in the background excited to see you and you see the look of joy on her face. (we were there to surprise not just Rosemary, but our siblings.

Love is when your 'sisters' husband gives you a huge hug when he sees you and is happy you are there.

Love is when your 'sisters' husband says things like "this is why you fit in so well'.

Love is when your 'brother' walks by during Rosemary's birthday as your sitting with your 'sisters' and says "all my sisters, together!"

Love is when you say to your 'sister' after playing games with the family "this is the family I should have been born into" and she agrees.  

Love is when your 'sister' holds your hand as you wonder how your own family cannot accept you and yet a whole big family loves and accepts you just the way you are.

Love is crying at the airport as you leave a part of yourself behind.  I will never understand how I became so blessed and so loved, so unconditionally.  But trust me when I say it isn't something I take for granted.

I'm not stupid.  I know people don't understand why family is so important to me.  Why being accepted is so important to me.  Why being a part of something is so important to me.  They were never the black sheep.  You do not get to decide who my family is.  You do not get to decide who is or is not my 'dad' or 'brother' or 'sister'.   That is something only I get to do.  

People are adopted at all different ages.  Why should finding your true family as an adult be any different?  It just took me longer to get my forever home.

Until next time,

If you aren't accepted into the family you were born into, make your own.  Only you can transform your life.

Love,

Me