What I don't like about getting older

 There are probably way too many things to name so I'll just name the ones that really get to me. 

First, the petty ones:

I really hate it when I say "excuse me" to someone out of courtesy (if I have to cross in front of them in a line, if I am in their way, if I accidentally bump into them) and they reply, "You're fine!" What does that even mean? How about, "Oh, no problem.!" or "Thank you!" (woah- I really am old!) 

You can look back at my "Pity Party" posts from when I was working and understand this better. I don't like people thinking a) I'm dumb and clueless; b) I have no idea what is going on in the world; c) I can't do things for myself and d) I know nothing about technology, just because I am older. I thought people were supposed to appreciate the elderly! (Not that I am ELDERLY) 

I'm a walking history book when it comes to the 60's and 70's culture, music, movies, TV and such and young people just don't know about our bands, our shows, our culture. Why should they? They have their own! But the ones who "dis" us like our time didn't matter really get on my nerves. Some of y'all could benefit from learning about us. (Off my soapbox) 

I really wish people would learn how to dress appropriately. I wish men would take pride in their appearance. I guess I am spoiled because my handsome Italian husband never leaves the house unless he's "dressed to the nines" as they say. (even when he's wearing a t-shirt and shorts!) Every girl crazy 'bout a sharp dressed man 🎶 

 I also wish girls/women would show a little more modesty in their dress. You don't have to wear expensive clothes to take pride in your appearance and model that to the young folks. It says something about you and your self-esteem in my old mind. 

Now the ones that are life changing:

Seeing the people (younger than me) getting older and growing up and changing. I like to think of people in a certain way and now... My son will be 40 years old in a couple of years. That is impossible for me to fathom. Lauren is perpetually 18 in my mind and I struggle to think of her as 35 years old. I just can't. 

I see my granddaughters growing up before my very eyes, and I wish they were still the babies they were just a short time ago. I am happy and sad at the same time. It is really bittersweet. That is life, though. I am going to try to really observe and enjoy all of the phases the girls go through. It's a lot easier to do as a grandmother than it was as a mother. 

I don't like all the aches and pains my body likes to annoy me with. I am very grateful that I don't suffer from a lot of health issues. The little things I have are part of aging. I just wish I had taken better care of myself when I was younger, but still I am lucky in the respect that some of my peers really have some bad issues. I am thankful. 

I am trying hard to dress appropriately for my age without looking like I'm a hundred years old. I am not trying to be 25 because I am not, and I probably wouldn't want to be again. I just try hard to be age appropriate and not dowdy. I don't think my son wants his mama to dress like she "shops for her wardrobe at Cracker Barrel," to quote an old friend of mine. (Actually, I have seen some cute things there lately. They have upped their game. It used to be quilted vests and sweatsuits.)  I jokingly told my daughter-in-law Anna to put me away if I started dressing like that, and she said she'd keep her young eyes out for me! (Disclaimer: I am not going to embarrass myself or my son by attempting to wear a bikini!) 

Lastly, I don't like what is going on in our country and in our world. I worry about the kind of world my grand daughters have to grow up in. We are so lucky that they have fantastic parents who are keeping watch on them and a weather eye on the horizon to make sure these girls are being trained up in the church and are getting a good education both at home and in their schools. We're blessed that their other grandparents are salt of the earth, Christian people who carry the same values that we and their parents do. So damn lucky and I am so very grateful for that. I pray for them day and night. 

So I will try to do my part to grow old gracefully. As gracefully as I can. 

What I like about getting older

There are a lot of things I actually like about getting older. Of course, being a grandmother (Mimi) is the best thing. 

Other than that, I like the fact that I no longer worry about wearing fancy shoes. I'm in it for the comfort these days. I've found some really cute flats that feel really good. I don't worry about cute high heels and such, though.

I really like not having to worry about going to work every day. I thought I would miss it, but I actually don't miss deadlines and hassles. I really miss the people I worked with though. They were the best. The college where I worked was one big family, and I miss them and the fun we had. But working? Nope! 

I'm glad that I don't have to worry about dressing for work and also about wearing make up. MAKE-UP! I don't worry about it anymore. (unless I am going to church or somewhere dressed up and I will see people I have known for years) Vanity of Vanities, as they say! Seriously, though I adjusted the amount of make up I wear a while back based on an article I read about women over 60. The last thing I am looking for is to try to look inappropriately young. In other words, I think I would look like a clown at my age. 

But the upshot of it is, I am getting to be ok with who I am and my age in life (FINALLY!) 

The one thing I remember each day is that each day I live is one day closer to when I will be with my Lauren again. I am working hard (and slipping along the way) to make my way to heaven. It is a tough road, folks. I pray I can get there and be with her one day. 

So for now, I will take it one day at a time, enjoy my freedom (from work responsibilities), learn to love my new home and cherish my time with family. 

My Joel

 Sept. 25, 2020: 

You left us today. I suspected you would, but I still wasn’t ready. I am still processing a world without you in it. My world has a little less light in it. You have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. I don’t remember a world without you in it. My pre-Joel days just don’t exist. Your family was my family too, even though there was no blood shared (unless you count the blood of Christ). 

You and I were the third generation of Morris-Kerr friends. Your grandpa and my daddy; your dad and my brother and you and me. Last night, your sweet wife Pam messaged me that my son had sent your daughter a note to express his sorrow and love in your loss. That makes four generations, and I know you love that as much as I do. 

Where to begin, my friend? You and I were the best of friends growing up. I remember going to your house “in town” to play with you and Tammie and Eric. I was at Daddy’s gas station and I’d walk down the overhead bridge to your house for play time. We were little then. When y’all moved to the farm, I was so sad. I went to the high school and you were still at the grammar school. We met again in Music Appreciation class. Fitting place to reconnect, I think. 

Our high school crew could not have been closer. You, me, Rhonda and Donna sitting on the lawn, laughing and having a ball. Rhonda got married after high school, so you and Donna and I hung out when I was home in the summers from college. Riding all over the place in her white Camaro with ELO blasting. 

We drove my poor daddy crazy staying up all night playing “Aggravation,”  and singing gospel songs while you played the piano like a champ (oh, how I wish I had half your talent). Your poor mama (I loved her so) would fuss at us, because people in town might recognize that your car was at my house overnight! The problem was, we didn’t care. How many nights did we drive to any open convenience store to find a box of Banquet chicken that we could cook at 2 a.m.? Making biscuits and cooking chicken. We’d send your mama and daddy on a “date” and drag my daddy out to the farm to eat with your grandpa, Grayson, Tammie, Eric and us after we’d cooked up a storm. Course the biscuits for those meals had been made by the greatest biscuit maker of all time: your mother. 

My parents loved you and your parents loved me. Time moved on and I got married to my Richard, who learned to love you like a brother, as you did him. My kids loved their “Uncle Joel.”

Then you met your sweet Pam. I knew the moment I met her, she was perfect for you. I learned to love her and your Katie stole my heart the first time I held her in my arms as a tiny baby. 

There were periods of time (because of distance) that we did not see each other, but I always knew you were there. I’d think of you and you’d call me out of the blue. You’d be thinking of me, and I would text you. We got together as often as we could when I was home, but many times you’d tell me you just didn’t feel well enough. 

You are the greatest miracle I have ever known. You are proof that God is in control. You were dealt a terrible hand with your physical afflictions that would have taken many people down a long time ago, yet you persevered as best you could. God blessed you with tremendous talent and you gave that talent back through music for as long as you were able. You shared so much of yourself with others and anyone who met you was blessed. I know yesterday the first thing you heard was “Well done, thou good and faithful servant.” 

I prayed a novena of healing for you, asking for the intercession of Pope St. John Paul II. The first eight days, I prayed it before bed. On Sept. 24, I was led and prayed it in the middle of the day. I believe that was the day that you were taken off the vent and were able to acknowledge Pam and Katie that last time. I hope so. I hope God heard me and John Paul, who suffered terribly toward the end of his life, interceded for you. God did answer my prayer because you are healed. You are there with our loved ones now. I know that my Lauren was there to greet you with your parents, my parents, my brothers and my nephew Keith. So many were happy to see you, and you are well and restored in your new body now. 

You were my brother in Christ and my lifelong friend. You took me to the prom, you loved my children like they were your own. You cried with me when we lost our Lauren. You always made me laugh. We shared jokes and food and thoughts and prayers. You are in my heart and I know one day, I will see you again. Rest In Peace my sweet friend. My life has been blessed by you. Always, your coo. 

Navigating the Co-Vid Blues

When we moved to our new home in January, we never expected a pandemic to hit. We were looking forward to engaging in some activities at our new church and getting acclimated to our new town.

When the “shutdown” happened, we were thrown for a loop. We didn’t like not being able to go to mass and having to watch online. We longed to be able to receive the Eucharist in person. I will admit, I cried the first few times we watched online. When we were finally able to go back on Mother’s Day (which I considered a gift from Lauren) I didn’t care that we were outside and wearing a mask. As a matter of fact, masks don’t really bother me at all. We have been able to go to mass since then, and mask or no mask, nothing has made me happier.

It has been a heartbreaking experience for us, our kids who are trying to navigate working from home with the girls, and for our whole country. I hate seeing how all the small businesses have been affected, how people have lost their livelihoods and how much depression and suicide have escalated... I can’t stand how divided our country has become.

We have had some blessed moments. We had our Mother’s Day celebration at the kids’ house and it was wonderful. Vivian did her dance recital piece for the family and it was precious. We have had the kids a couple of days now to help out their parents, and that makes us happy. We want to be part of their young lives, and moving closer is really paying off. We had a get together for my daughter -in-law’s family that was a wonderful success.

In early July, around the time of our 38th wedding anniversary, we were able to take a trip to Florida with our kids. It was a great and much needed trip! So while having to miss Aunt Mary’s 90th birthday in Las Vegas in May was terrible, the trip with the kids was good.

We had my brother and sister in-law visiting us and my other sister in law came over too!

We are just trying to navigate the Co-Vid blues, just like everyone else.

Tomorrow is another day (and year)

Well, tomorrow marks 16 years since our beautiful Lauren went home. I miss her every moment of every day. It is not easy and it never will be, I am sure.

Last week, after we cleaned out our attic in our old home, so that the new tenants could move in, I went through and washed all of my kids' baby clothes so I could repack them. I got through that ok, but it is really hard to believe Lauren will be 35 this year. I wonder what type of woman my little girl would have turned out to be.

I am fairly certain, based on the fine man, husband and father that my son has become, she would be a valuable asset to our family and to society. She was a wonderful girl.

We were blessed with two of the best children anyone could ask for. They were the biggest blessings we ever had and now we just cherish the two grandchildren God has blessed us with.

Thank you Lord for our many blessings. Thank you for allowing us to be a part of these children's lives. Help us to be a positive, loving presence in our son, daughter-in-law and granddaughters’  lives. Amen

You do what you gotta do

Quarantine sucks. There I said it. Not being able to go to church, restaurants and stores is really not fun. Especially when we just missed the whole Holy Week and Easter celebrations. We had a trip to celebrate my husband’s aunt’s 90th birthday with his whole family set and that is off. We had a trip to the beach with my brother set and that is off. The world has turned into a crazy place. We can’t see friends, we have to stay 6 feet apart and have been wearing masks when we do go out. What on earth is going on? I have no answers to those questions, I just go along with the program.

On the plus side, we have gotten to spend time with the kids and grand kids. I think I would have gone crazy if not for that. We go walk at the park almost every day, so we are getting fresh air and exercise. We are pretty well settled in our new home and community. We like it here, and especially our church and our proximity to the kids. It has been good.

I still struggle with what Lauren might think about all this, but I feel like she would have been happy for us. I really do. I have to explain to everyone we meet that we lost a child, etc. but I am pretty used to that.

So, my excuse for not blogging? I have none.

So here are some pics that have made me pretty happy here lately.

All masked up at Lowe’s 

Easter Day! 

Took baths before our trip back home. 

Easter Egg hunt finds. 

Upon this rock...

The Catholic world is abuzz these days with the horrible news from the Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report and the allegations about Cardinal Theodore McCarrick. I have read several articles from Catholic news sources regarding these scandals and find myself disheartened along with so many more of the laity.

I am blessed to have several friends who are priests, and to know that they are good men, who are as disturbed and disgusted as I am about what they are learning about some leaders in our church. 

I came into the church as an adult, and I believe it to be the true church that Jesus founded before he ascended into heaven. I am not afraid to admit that, because I know that the church itself is not at fault. I believe that the devil believes the only way to destroy us is from the inside. Without priests, we are unable to participate in the Eucharist, which is the source and summit of our faith. So to destroy the priesthood, will do the trick, won’t it? 

I believe the answer is a resounding “NO!” As a matter of fact, I know that is the answer. I know that for every bad priest, there are 100 good ones. I know that my little church was full at mass this morning, with faithful believers who came to participate in the Eucharist. 

Every morning when I get up, I remember what Jesus said: “And so I say to you, you are Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church, and the gates of the netherworld shall not prevail against it.’

No matter what comes our way, I believe what he said, and that the church will stand. 

My tears were for her, too

Father's Day dinner 

We've been a bit distracted for the past couple of weeks with doctor's appointments and a rotator cuff surgery for my husband. I've been trying to take care of him the best I can and work at the same time. He is a real trooper and has been very patient with me, and together we have gotten him back on the road to recovery. He's pretty athletic and very strong and that does help in a situation like this.

The granddaughters have been really concerned that Grandpa (Pacca) is ok and through a couple of FaceTime visits, I think they are reassured that his "boo boo" is getting better.

We went on Saturday to the Baddour Center, a wonderful place in our community. It is a home for adults with special needs. They have a great nursery where we always try to buy flowers to plant around our home each spring. We are a bit behind due to the above-mentioned surgery, so it was great to get over there for some petunias that we put out on Saturday (My husband used his good arm to plant).

Jennifer, a casual friend of mine that I know from our small town, works there in the nursery. She and her husband have a boy and a girl just like us. Their children are a bit younger than ours, so we did not really know them as school friends. I met her several years ago when she worked at a favorite shop of mine. She helped us when my daughter-in -law Anna picked out items for her bridal register in that shop.

She was there on Saturday and came out to help us. She said, "I've been thinking of you guys lately." She went on to tell us that her 28-year-old son had passed away on Thanksgiving last year. I was shocked to my very core. He had only been married for 7 weeks, and he succumbed to a massive heart attack.

My heart shattered for her at that moment. I could see the pain in her eyes. Pain that I know first hand radiated from her. I wept right there in the middle of all of those flowers. My tears were for that young widow, his sister and father and most of all for Jennifer. I know her journey all too well. I had no words to say to comfort her, because there are none.

So I listened to her. Richard and I just listened to her and let her tell us how she was coping and what she was doing, and how things were going. That is all anyone can do. We talked about our experiences and she related that she had just moved to our town and it was her first Sunday at her church the day Lauren died. She told us how many people in that church were openly praying for us. She didn't know us then, but she prayed for us too. I have prayed for her every day since then.

I only had one piece of advice I could give her: "Don't let anyone tell you how to grieve."

That is the worst thing you can do to a parent who has lost a child. Just listen and let them go through the process. Don't tell them it will be ok, because it really won't. Not really, ever again. It is just a new normal. That is all.

Our true comfort comes from God.

Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted. 


To find out more about The Baddour Center visit www.baddour.org

A pot full of love

Mother’s Day has come and gone again. We did something a little different this year, and traveled to my son’s house. Our little grand daughter Rosemary had a couple of “programs” that we needed to be there for. Her T.O.T. (Teams of Tomorrow) ball demonstration was on Saturday. She was super cute doing her dribbling and bouncing, and was genuinely happy to get her little trophy.  Sunday, she sang at church with her little choir. Both times, she did great!

She was surrounded by family who love her. I couldn’t help but think how proud Lauren would have been to see Rosie up there, looking like her daddy and participating in these little events.

Both of our girls were precious and we are so blessed to have them in our lives. I pray for them every night and thank God for them every day.

We will plug along as best we can and make the best of the days we have with these girls. Here are some weekend memories and a sweet gift from my girls.

A thought for grieving parents as we approach Year 14

Our Lauren will be gone 14 years tomorrow. This time of year is tough for me. She was getting ready to graduate from high school in 2004, and had done all the work for college at Ole Miss. She was so excited to be over there with her brother. But that was not to be. The three of us, her dad, her brother and I suffered that loss together, and still to this day, the pain is always there in our family. We will go to our son's house this weekend and celebrate Mother's Day with our little grand daughters who never had the chance to meet their lovely aunt, but she will be present in my heart and in my thoughts, as she always is. 

The song, "I love you more today than yesterday, but not as much as tomorrow" has been my theme song these past few days. 

Rest well, my sweet girl, and know that your mama remembers and loves you every minute of every day. 

The hope that we cling to

When First Lady Barbara Pierce Bush passed away, many of those who remembered this gracious lady were saddened for her husband and the rest of their big family. Mrs. Bush was a personal hero of mine. I admired her wittiness, her devotion to her family and her fierce support of her husband. She truly embodied what I always thought a wife and mother should be.

“Never lose sight of the fact that the most important yardstick of your success will be how you treat other people - your family, friends, and coworkers, and even strangers you meet along the way,” she once said. I fall short of this every day, but I try. I equate this with the kind of love we as Christians are supposed to exhibit. 

While Mrs. Bush could wax philosophical, she could also get straight to the point: “People who worry about their hair all the time, frankly, are boring.” A lady after my own heart. 

She and I had something in common that made me look up to her and I will venture to say to love her. She knew what it was to lose a child. She faced the same struggles that I and other grieving parents have faced. She never forgot her Robin- all of the fame, fortune and political success could not change the love she had for her little girl and the grief that she lived with from that loss. 

A wonderful cartoonist here in Mississippi, Marshall Ramsey, has captured the hope that we as grieving parents feel - the hope that we will be reunited with our beloved children. I have had the honor to meet Marshall and to hear him speak at a couple of events I have been at. He has a penchant for getting to the heart of the matter. His cartoons capture things right where they are. 

This particular cartoon has gone viral, and even members of Mrs. Bush’s family have seen it and commented on it, thanks to social media. So kudos to you, Marshall! And thank you. 

A special Christmas gift for me

Our sweet girls

We are visiting my brother in South Carolina so we stopped off to spend the night with the kids on the way over here. We went to the girls' day care so that we could see them at pick up time when their parents came to get them. Vivian, our 17-month-old, was a bit confused to see Mimi in her classroom suddenly, and being the independent little girl she is, she let her Grandpa and me give her a hug and quickly got down to run around in the day care and show us how she knew her way around.

We made our way to Rosie's room where she was playing with some kids. Rosie (our 3-year-old) spotted me looking for her through the window and yelled at the top of her little lungs, "THAT"S MY MIMI!!!" We came in and she ran as fast as she could to jump into my arms. She just hugged me and hugged me. She got down to run to her Grandpa and then ran back to hug me again.

She asked if I could ride with her in the car, so I went with her and my son to "The Pancake Store" (Cracker Barrel) where we were eating that evening. After a wonderful time of dinner and fellowship we went home to get the girls ready for bath time and bed time. As we came into the house, I was on the couch when Rosie came over and hugged me. She said, "I'm so glad you are here, Mimi. I'm so glad you came to see me."

Her sweet, innocent little heart just gave me the best Christmas gift I have ever gotten or will probably ever get. Rosie had no idea what she gave me. But I will never forget it. So, Merry Christmas to everyone, and I hope you get as wonderful a gift as I received this year.

A house full of love

Thanksgiving has come and gone, but we had a wonderful week. Richard's brother and sister-in-law, niece and her husband and their little boy (age 20 months), his other daughter and our kids came to celebrate with us. We had a house full of people and a house full of love all week last week.

My sweet friend Michelle (who lives three doors from us) offered her house for the overflow of folks.   Cooking with my nieces and my sister-in-law was a lot of fun for me (I did what I could, as my sister-in-law is a wonderful cook and is in charge of the kitchen!) The guys were playing their guitars and singing and watching football together. It is the way it should be. Noise, mess and a lot of love.

The kids were running through the house and underfoot, but it was glorious.To see my Rosie and Vivian and their little cousin Hudson playing together and laughing did my whole heart good.

I can't help but wonder what Lauren would have thought about all of this. I am sure she would love every minute of seeing those babies, and would probably have had a couple of her own.

For us, everything we do is bittersweet. But instead of dwelling on that, we need to take the joy when we can get it, to be quite honest.

I am exhausted and my house is a mess, but I would not take one second back or have it any other way. I would do it all again in a heartbeat.

I remember one time Lauren was watching "My Big Fat Greek Wedding" and she turned to me and said, "Mom, this is our family!" Well, all I can say is "You were right, baby girl."

Baptized with vinegar

This article was originally published at Catholic365.com

http://www.catholic365.com/article/1666/baptized-with-vinegar.html

A while back I heard Mark Hart, the Bible Geek on the radio and one of the things he said made me laugh, but it stuck with me. He was talking about Christian joy (or the lack thereof) and he said, “Some people look like they were baptized with vinegar.”

At first, I thought that was hysterically funny, but after I thought about it, I realized he was right. I play piano and organ at Mass every Sunday, and from my vantage point, I can see the whole congregation. It’s amazing how many people, even the priest sometimes, really have a sour look on their faces from time to time. It made me wonder a couple of things - Why is that the case? And, do I look that way to others?

Why would we look sour at Mass, of all places, when we are about to embark on the most remarkable journey mankind has ever known? Maybe because we are human, and we can’t fathom the depth of what is about to happen? Do we take it for granted? St. John Vianney explained that even the priest may not be able to appreciate his own part in this miracle: "O, how great is the priest! ... If he realized what he is, he would die," St. John Vianney said.

Now, I understand that everybody has a bad day now and then. I have heard all the arguments about how “Mass is boring” from adults and kids alike. I always want to remind them that Mass is not supposed to be entertainment. It is what we are called to do by the Lord Himself. I think He told us to do it in His memory until He comes back and we don’t have to any more. Where is our joy then?

Hart’s comment certainly gave me pause to examine myself. We have only one Sunday Mass at our little parish and it is at 8 a.m. It is a sacrifice sometimes to get up on Sunday, like a regular workday in order to be there in time to play at Mass. But I have tried to give that to Jesus. Being joyful that time of morning is another thing. I pray I can learn to be more joyful, and that the light of Christ can shine through me.

I figure if I can be joyful at that 8 a.m. Mass every Sunday, it will spill over into my everyday life. "Christian joy is a gift of God flowing from a good conscience,” St. Philip Neri said. I think we all need to embrace that. No more vinegar!

A perfect gift

Another football season has come and gone, we've gone through Advent and now Christmas and a New Year is upon us again. We are back at work and starting a new semester.  

A lot has happened since I last posted about the birth of our first grandchild, Rosemary. I had the opportunity to keep her for three days in November, and to spend a lot of time with her over the holidays. Christmas was so much fun! Her parents gave us a handmade gift of her footprint. It was the best gift we got! 

The joy she brings to us is indescribable. 

It is so interesting to me to see my child with his child. I have always known that Aaron was good with kids. He's always been like the Pied Piper when it comes to little kids. They love him, naturally. You can see how much Rosie loves him, even at her tender age of four months. She lights up with Daddy, and he can make her giggle. 

She looks up at her mom and dad with such wonder. My husband remarked that Rosie looks up at her mother the way her Daddy used to look up at me. I was really surprised that he said that. I think we take things like that for granted and don't really appreciate them until they are gone. Today, we are so fortunate to have digital cameras and camera phones that can record much more than in the days when I was a young mother.  

My son and his wife are learning and growing with their daughter every day. They have both "stepped up to the plate" and take really good care of her. We are so thankful that they are such good parents to our granddaughter. 

I saw a little poem that I think sums up my feelings for Rosemary: 

"A gift you are from heaven above, a perfect example of God's precious love."

(Thinking back, it sums up how I felt about my own children, too. I hope I appreciated it then, as much as I do now.) 

My favorite (so far) picture of Rosie and me.

Anticipation and sadness...

This past three weeks of summer have basically been horrible.  First, we lost Ellen, the mother of Dawn, one of my best friends. She had been very sick and in the end was in hospice care at home. My poor friend and her brother and other family put their lives on hold, but were blessed to be there when she passed away.

We went to her visitation on a Sunday, but on the Thursday evening before, my other best friend Michelle's  21-year-old son Christian and two his friends were hit by a drunk driver traveling on the wrong side of the interstate. The driver and the passenger (Christian) both suffered broken bones, but praise God they are on the mend. After some complications, he has recovered enough to eat solid foods again. Both he and one of the other girls, Maria, who was in the back seat, are members of our parish. The young lady in the back seat has been in an induced coma in ICU, and was finally moved to a step down.

Three days ago, my sweet friend Janet lost her mother. Her mom had broken her hip, but was doing better. She died peacefully in her apartment. Tonight, a week after Dawn's mom's visitation, we went back for Janet's mom.

Last week, one of my former students, a young man of 25, passed away. TJ was the kind of kid that lit up the room when he came through the door. He was like my Lauren in that respect. TJ loved journalism- like me, he had "newsprint" in his blood. He had worked for his father's cousin at his newspaper, and loved every minute of it. TJ served as the editor of our college newspaper, and the job he did was spectacular. Like me, he had faced the death of a loved one. His older sister Jessica, who was the same age as Lauren, died in a car accident right when TJ was finishing high school. TJ never got over her loss. He and I talked a lot about it, but I knew it tortured him.

He had a rough go of it, and I won't go into details, but he did come and see me about a month ago. We had a wonderful visit and he seemed very positive again. He asked me for a recommendation for a job he was seeking, and I was happy to help him.  We parted after a long talk and I never saw him again after that. When I learned of his death, I was heartbroken. For him, for his parents, for his little sister Chloe, and for myself. I have lost someone I truly loved, once again. I spent an hour with his parents and sister, the other day. We talked about TJ, and his mother told me that he loved me too. It gave me peace of mind, but my heart is still broken for these people who have lost two children they loved. I understand their pain, but could not imagine having to go through losing another child. I pray for them and ask God to comfort them and bring them peace.

The one bright spot in this summer is that we are weeks away from the birth of our granddaughter. We have learned since I wrote before that her name will be Rosemary Lauren. She will be called Rosie. I cannot wait to hold her in my arms. I know she will be precious, as all children are, and I will be proud to be her Mimi.

As I contemplate sweet Rosie, I miss my Lauren really badly. I know she would be so happy over this baby who bears her name. I believe in my heart, that Lauren knows all about her and loves her already.

Dear Lord, we ask you for a safe delivery for Rosemary, and for her parents. I pray for Dawn and Janet, and TJ's family in their grief. I pray for Michelle, as she faces this long journey of Christian's recovery and for Christian as he embarks on that journey back to health. I pray for Maria, for her healing and for her return to her family, and most especially to her young daughter. 
Lord, hear our prayers. Amen. 

What Facebook does to me (and for me).

It's not enough that Facebook is always changing. Every time you get used to the way it acts on whatever device you are using, there's an upgrade and it becomes different. I can live with that. I guess they are sincerely trying to improve it. I'll give them the benefit of the doubt.

That's not the purpose of this blog post. I'm talking about what it does to me and for me personally. When I joined Facebook, I really didn't understand social media at all. I knew my son and his friends were all on it, and it seemed like a good way to stay in touch with family and friends. My list of "friends" has grown and grown since then, and for the most part, I am happy about that.

So I'll tell you what it does "to" me first:

Sometimes it makes me as mad as hell.

I don't like the spam that attacks and shows me things I don't want to see.

I get tired of people (whether or not it's intentional) "sharing" things that they have not really vetted before they post them. I've done it and been embarrassed, so I am not pointing fingers. It taught me to try to be more cautious.

I don't like reading folks' personal dramas on Facebook, and I don't like when people don't pay attention to a thread and say something off the wall in a comment. PM me or post on my timeline if there is something you want me to know. (I'm pretty sure I haven't done this to others, but I couldn't swear to it!) 

Sometimes it makes me laugh out loud.

Reading stuff on Facebook has made me realize that people are really funny. People have great senses of humor, and I love that.

Sometimes it surprises and shocks me.

You find out things about people you never wanted to know, usually because they don't have the good sense to keep it off social media. (I can't swear I haven't disappointed someone on Facebook myself, but I hope not.) 

Sometimes it makes me cry (and pray).

When you hear about loss- death, illness, tragedy, disaster- it can really get to you and make you count your blessings and pray for others. We need each other in this world, and this social media can be a wonderful way to reach out in love and through prayer.

So,  here's what Facebook does "for" me.

I live away from my family and a lot of my childhood friends, so I get to "see" them and "talk" to them way more because of it.

It shows me Christ in others. People have supported me and my family so beautifully when I share about Lauren, and sharing her through Facebook is no exception. I can feel the prayers lifting me up on her birthday, on Mother's Day and on the anniversary of her death. People who never met her, and sometimes haven't even met me,  offer their love and support through this medium and it is a gift to us.

This crazy Facebook thing has connected me to my "universal" family of faith in a way that could never have happened without it. I have countless "Catholic" friends all over the U.S. that I have never met, and yet I feel so close to them. I have a friend in Australia and priest friends in Africa and Canada that I will probably never meet in person, but I feel close to those folks as if I knew them, because we share one faith.

One more thing, silly as it is. I love being able to say "Happy Birthday" to people on Facebook. I try to do that every day, and when it's my birthday, that gesture comes back in spades! It makes you feel so good to see those birthday wishes out there.

So, whether or not I always like it, it is a big part of my life- I can't deny that! It can be a lifeline to people and a tool to spread love if you let it.

I am thankful for all of my Facebook friends, whether we live in the same town or whether we are a world apart.

I can take care of myself. (I just don't want to)

This past Monday I had an eye-opening experience. I found out I can take care of myself. I just don't want to. 

I had gone down to Birmingham over the weekend for the "gender reveal" party of my granddaughter! Yes, I am going to be a grandmother to a lovely little girl! 

I was driving back to Mississippi when I drove right into tornado-ridden Tupelo. 

I had driven through Alabama with the sun shining and as soon as I got close to the Mississippi border the bottom fell out and I was in the worst rain I had ever seen. I muddled through, praying every prayer I knew. 

As I approached Tupelo, I saw that the highway I was on was completely deadlocked ahead of me. I took the "last chance exit" and got off the road and went to a gas station to fill up my truck. I asked someone for another route to get back home, but every road out of there was either deadlocked, or there was debris in the road. I was stuck. 

I was supposed to be meeting my Catholic Association students for our end of the year dinner, but that was not to be. I called our priest to tell him and he suggested I go back to the hotel I had passed earlier. I turned around and headed to the hotel. I went into a lobby full of hysterical people who couldn't get anywhere. I went to the desk to see if I could get a room, but the system was down and I was put on a waiting list. I told the man I would wait in the lobby all night if I had to.

 I was not about to go to the shelter they had opened, because I knew I could afford a room, and the people who needed a shelter had nothing. I wouldn't think of taking a bed there.

I went to the restaurant and ordered a small dinner, and was talking to my husband on the phone, and the next thing I knew he had gotten me a room! He'd called on his own, using his points card and taken care of me (like he has for 31 years!) 

I got a shower and went to bed to pray and stay in contact with my son, daughter in-law and husband, who were in the midst of bad weather. Everyone got through it ok, and the next morning, I got up and talked to a man from the Red Cross, found a road back home and made it back to work. 

It was a scary situation, but with God's help I got through it. I have prayed for the folks who lost lives, loved ones, and property. I have thanked God for being home safe. 

I know now I can take care of myself if I have to. I just don't want to. 

I'll take my chances

Most of the people who know my husband and me also know that we lost our 18 year old daughter Lauren almost 10 years ago.  She died in her car on the way to mass on Mother's Day. She was nine days short of graduation from high school. She was an honor student. She left behind a devastated father, mother and brother. She also left behind a grieving myriad of family, friends, and classmates too numerous to name.

That was the worst week of my life. I have often said it was like being dragged through hell- being completely lost, desperately tired and emotionally drained, trying to comfort my husband and son, struggling to make needed plans and be present for the legions of family, friends and the community who came through our home, to the funeral home, to the Fine Arts Auditorium where her funeral was held. I don't think anyone who has not lived through it can truly understand it.

In the midst of all that, I wondered where God was. Where could he be? I was sitting on the organ bench, ready to play at mass, to be a part of our Sunday celebration. Where did he go? Why wasn't he there when she needed him? Would he be there when I needed him most?

In the days that followed, I saw God's love in action. I saw Jesus in the people who came to us in person, on the phone, in cards and letters and in those who helped us build the memorial scholarship for her. I knew he was there. I didn't understand why she was gone, but I knew he had a plan and this was all part of it.

I think people expected my husband and me to be angry at God. But neither of us could. Richard said, "Why should I be angry at God? He's the only one who can help me." That left a great impression on me. I think it was what I needed to hear at that time.

I've had lots of time since then to grieve over my loss and to contemplate the day when I will be reunited with her again. That day gives me hope. It has strengthened my faith and I have learned to try and be joyful in the Lord.

Somewhere along the way I heard about a debate between an atheist and a Catholic. The atheist said something to the effect of, "How do you know that God exists and that there is an afterlife? How can you be sure?" The Catholic replied that he could not be sure, but that he'd take his chances.

I think that is exactly how I feel. I'll take my chances. If we are right (and in my heart, I know we are) then Alleluia! But if we are wrong, and the atheist is right, what difference does it really make? None whatsoever, because in their minds, there is no afterlife, punishment, or anyone to answer to. So, I'll take my chances that I will be with the Lord and reunited with Lauren and my other loved ones one day. I figure those chances are pretty good.

Portrait of a memory

Lauren loved Tinker Bell. I don't think I ever told her, but Tink was always my favorite Disney character, too. I remember being a very small child at Disneyland with my family looking up in the sky to try to see Tinker Bell flying around Cinderella's castle, like she did on television.

Lauren, like most little girls, started out as a Minnie Mouse fan. She had Minnie shirts, dolls, and a little china tea set that she got for her 5th birthday. All that changed when she saw "Peter Pan." She was hooked (no pun intended) on Tinker Bell.

Richard went to a conference in Orlando last week at one of the Disney properties. He told me there was a package coming. It came the same day Richard came home. When he opened it for me, it was this lovely portrait of Tinker Bell. 

He told me it was a giclee' by an artist who specialized in Disney characters. The artist likes to paint Disney characters in different places. This is number 8 of 15 0. He said he liked it because Tinker Bell seems to be looking toward heaven. He pictured Lauren looking down at her.  I see it, too. We placed it in the guest room downstairs, so we can share with our friends and family. 

"There was another light in the room now, a thousand times brighter than the night-lights, and in the time we have taken to say this, it had been in all the drawers in the nursery, looking for Peter's shadow, rummaged the wardrobe and turned every pocket inside out. It was not really a light; it made this light by flashing about so quickly, but when it came to rest for a second you saw it was a fairy, no longer than your hand, but still growing. It was a girl called Tinker Bell exquisitely gowned in a skeleton leaf, cut low and square, through which her figure could be seen to the best advantage..." J.M. Barrie, "Peter Pan."