“Her name is Lauren”

This past weekend, we made a trip to Orange Beach, Ala for our son’s 35th birthday. It was us, our son and daughter-in-law, granddaughters, our son’s mother and father-in-law and our daughter-in-law’s sister. The weather was perfect and we had a wonderful time as a family!

We spent time at the beach relaxing and just bonding as a family. I think Rosie and Vivian had a wonderful time having their whole family together. We usually do not get down to see them at Halloween each year, but there was a Halloween festival nearby and we got to see the girls wear their costumes and trick or treat. That was a treat for us!

Richard and I went to mass in a beautiful church called “St. Thomas by the Sea.” We had some lovely dinners out and last night we celebrated our son’s birthday at a wonderful restaurant and then went back home to open his presents and eat a birthday dessert.

Little Vivian, our two-year-old was toddling around holding her baby doll. I asked her, “What’s your baby’s name, Vivi? She looked right at me and said matter-of-factly, “Her name is Lauren.” Her grandpa and mom and dad and I were completely shocked and humbled. I know she has heard us mention her aunt’s name, and she knows her sister’s middle name is Lauren (named after her aunt and our daughter) but I had no idea it had stuck with her.

I think it must have been a gift for us. I believe God was letting us know our Lauren is still with us. It was the best gift I have had in a long time, and it refreshed my weary soul.

Here are a couple of pictures from our wonderful weekend.

Our Tinkerbell and Wendy Darling

Happy Birthday!

Family!

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

Give me your number

Lauren loved when the digital clock would read 2:22, 3:33 and so on. She said it was good luck. She would always tell me that. I really did not pay full attention. I just thought it was a kid’s thing. She’d say, “Oh, Mom! It’s good luck! Try to make a wish when it happens.”
After she died, it seemed to happen all the time. I would look at the clock and it would be 5:55. I would look at my computer clock at work and it would be 1:11. It was weird. I never told anyone about that. It just happened. My nephew (and godson) Christopher was born July of the same year Lauren died. He was in his mother’s womb when we lost Lauren. His mother is my husband’s only sister, so we are very close.
We went to visit them when Chris was an infant, and stricken with grief, we found joy in the little guy. Liz and I were talking when I began to share about the clock and how I would see the three matching numbers all the time. Liz’s eyes filled with tears. She had been experiencing the same thing. She said everytime she would feed Chris, she would glance at the clock, and it seemed to always be on matching numbers. After a good cry, I chalked it up to the same reason that I had seen so many butterflies that summer. It was the Holy Spirit and He was comforting us. It still happens to me, but not as often. Usually now I look at the clock and it always seems to be 11:29. That is her birthday. When those things happen, I stare at the clock until the time changes, always thinking of Lauren and remembering something about her. Maybe my body clock is programmed to glance at the clock at those opportune times, but I really do attribute it to God and his infinite power to comfort us in our times of need.

My summer of butterflies

Lauren loved this song by Deborah Cox called “Nobody’s Supposed to be Here.” She had the CD single and played it every time we were in the car together. First the slow ballad, then the dance mix.

One line said, “Knowing these tears I’ve cried, This lovely black butterfly must take a chance and spread my wings. Love can make you do some crazy things.” Almost every time, she would ask the same question. “Mama, have you ever seen a black butterfly?” I would say that I had seen them with blue and white tipped wings, but just rarely. Now, Lauren loved black. She always wanted to buy black shirts, pants, skirts, shoes, purses and anything else she could get her hands on. We almost had to force her to wear any other color. I think that is why she was mystified by the prospect of a black butterfly.

The week she died, it seemed as though hundreds of people came to our house to pay their respects, offer support, bring food and just grieve with us. I often think how hard it must have been to have to come and visit us, shell-shocked as we were.

We were walking someone out one of those horrible days, and this person happened to live nearby the place where her accident happened. They started to tell us about what had happened from their perspective that morning. It was something I did not care to hear, so I began to “tune it out.” I said a silent prayer, and just at that moment, I saw a black butterfly with blue-tipped wings come from the woods next door. It fluttered above our heads and lit right under Lauren’s window. My heart was so full, I began to smile and cry at the same time. I excused myself and went inside.

Thoroughly confused and amazed by what I had seen, I began to wonder if Lauren had sent the butterfly to comfort me. No one knew about the butterflies except Lauren and me. My husband came in and innocently asked, “Did you see that butterfly?” I began to cry again, of course. I told him about the butterfly and Lauren. He could not believe it.

Then I remembered: “And I will ask the Father, and he will give you another Advocate to be with you always, the Spirit of truth, which the world cannot accept, because it neither sees nor knows it. But you know it, because it remains with you, and will be in you. I will not leave you orphans; I will come to you. “ (John 14:16-18). In some translations, the word “Comforter” is used. I knew then that I was being comforted by my Lord.

That summer I saw what seemed like legions of black butterflies wherever I went.