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. 

Stay at home gals

We got the chance during Thanksgiving week to take care of our girls. It was physically exhausting for two old grandparents, (I can't think how we managed to raise our own kids, sometimes) but we loved every minute of it.

Our girls love to be at home in their playroom. We took them to the mall to ride the merry-go-round and the train. They had a blast. We took them to the McWane Science Center and they had a great time. But they are just as content to be at home playing "school" with Mimi in the playroom.

Rosie loves to be the teacher, and Viv and I just let her. Viv, of course, needs to also have a role to play, so right now I tell her she is the classroom leader and she seems content with that. I follow behind her and let her lead me through our "classroom" chores that our lovely teacher Miss Rosie gives us. Everybody is happy! (Usually)

I'm sure when she is bit bigger, she might insist on being the teacher. We will deal with that when it happens! I am just a student, because they teach me something every time I get the chance to spend time with them.

The two of them are just amazing to me. (Yes, I know-everyone feels the same way about their own grandchildren and that is ok.) I've said before that they bring us untold joy and they are medicine for our weary, wounded souls. But it is true. They do bring us joy and they do help our grieving hearts more than I can even say.

It was really good for us to be with them like that this year before Lauren's birthday arrived. It helped me get through that day.

14 years is a long time to miss your child, and I am just sure that no matter how many years it ends up being it will be a "long" time.  One minute is a long time to miss your child, and at any given moment, 14 years later even, you can be taken right back to that first minute you realized your child was gone.

One day, the time will mean nothing, but today it still does, and I am grateful for this time with my grandchildren. It helps make this time of missing my child a lot easier.

Two sweet girls on a train in the mall. 

His loss, our loss

I did not know him very well, but Jason was one of those people who was bigger than life. His stature alone could have seemed imposing, yet he had an innocent quality about him that would make you stop and take notice.

I first encountered Jason when he taught English at a local high school and was named 'Teacher of the Month." I took his photo along with the students of the month for the local Rotary club.

Here was this tall guy with dark curly hair topped off by a black kippah (or yarmulke, if you like) – not a sight you usually see in a small Southern town.  I thought, "What an interesting young man! How in the world did an Orthodox Jew end up here?" (It's just the journalistic curiosity in me, I suppose.)

Of course, living in the "politically correct, everything can be offensive, so watch what you say" climate we currently abide in, I would never had asked him about his journey to Judaism.  Thinking back, I'll bet Jason would have shared it with me in the blink of an eye, though.

Jason came to our college to head up our Writing Center a couple of years later, and I can count on my hands the times I actually got to talk with him. When I did come into contact with him, I was impressed with his enthusiasm for the job he had taken on.  I sensed that he wanted to help students with navigating the world through the written word, and although I have only read one thing Jason actually wrote, I can guess he would have been good at it.

I took his photo at several events, and actually sat down at a table with a few other folks and had a nice discussion with him one day. The last photo I took of Jason was at a retirement reception for our Foundation director. Jason and a fellow instructor (who happens to be the minister of a local church) and I were making a joke about a Jew, a Catholic and a Baptist walking into a bar. Not so politically correct, but funny to us. Jason had a beautiful smile on his face that day.

He called me at 3 pm that last Friday to inquire about taking a photo at an event he was involved in for the Writing Center at a local church the next day.  None of our staff was available to  go that Saturday, so I did what I could to encourage him to just get someone to snap a photo with his phone. He seemed ok with that, and I told him I would see him Monday- he and I had an appointment for me to interview him about another project he was working on. I was really looking forward to talking with him one on one, and hopefully getting to know him a little better. I could see bright things for Jason, and I wanted to help him along the way if I could.

Jason passed away that evening at his home.  I have not been this devastated over something in a long time. I wish I could have had that time with him on Monday afternoon. I wish I could have gotten to know this interesting young man better. Fellow writers would have had a lot to talk about.

Rest in peace, Jason. You made a big impact on a lot of people.

My big baby girl

President’s Day was a long weekend for us so we went to visit the grand babies and their parents. (You notice I am thinking more and more like a grandparent.)

Anyway, visiting with them always does our hearts good, and this time Rosemary (our 3 year old) was not feeling great, and was struggling with a little cold, but other than that, all was well.

I started to realize just how grown up Rosie is. I feel like sometimes I am a little behind in realizing how they are maturing. Vivian is in that stage where she loves to hang on to me. When we got to their day care, I waved at her through the window in the door, and she nearly broke her neck getting to me. She got in my arms, laid her little head on my shoulder and did not move all through us going to the gym where Rosie was playing, visiting Rosie’s class for a “tour” and getting to the car. She wasn’t asleep, she just wanted Mimi to hold her.

Rosie, on the other hand, is Miss Independent right now. I used to be sad that she didn’t ask to be held or come up and hug me all the time like she did when she was smaller, but once I relaxed, she came to me on her own time. She gave me a hug and kiss when we got there, but she is her own little person and likes to be independent. She is dressing herself, and putting on her own shoes. I am so proud of her.

Now if I am sitting on the couch, Rosie will come up and climb onto my lap while watching TV. She wants to be close to me I think, but when she wants to. I love that she is growing and maturing, but I will always miss her being my first grand baby.

She is so sweet, that when she brought down her own little dress up costume from her closet, she thought to bring one for her sister too. When they changed costumes the next day, Vivian ran out and got her own.

She really does show an incredible amount of patience with her baby sister  to only be 3 herself.

I’m going to do with these two what I TRIED to do with my own: Enjoy all of their phases!

Another sweet gift

My daughter-in-law Anna is a very thoughtful young lady. She does a great job of including us (even though we are a little distance from them) in all of the girls' activities, etc.  We visit with each other as often as we can but, thank goodness for FaceTime and texts.

We are able to enjoy their little stages as if we lived next door. It means a lot to their Grandpa and me to be included in their lives. As I have stated in the past, these little girls are medicine to our hearts and salves to our souls. I just hope that I was half as good a daughter-in-law to my in-laws as Anna is turning out to be to us. She is a great wife to our son, and a wonderful mother to her girls. Motherhood has come quite naturally to Anna and she really loves it, I can tell.

In the past she has given us little homemade gifts from the girls. Those gifts mean more to me than she will ever know.  I have everything I could ever need materially speaking, and these little things are more precious to me than gold.

I don't think she is making a special effort in this because we lost Lauren, I just believe it is her own sweet nature. She has two wonderful parents and family who molded her into the great young woman she is today. But she is not insensitive to our loss; she has been a good listener to our son when he shares his grief with her, as she has with us. I truly believe Lauren would have loved her sister-in-law and her little nieces. I know she would be as proud of her brother and the great husband and father he has become as we are.

This year for Christmas, she gave us a wooden plaque from the girls that she painted and put the word "Love" on using the girls handprint and footprints. The "o" in love is made by Rosemary's little hand and the "v" is made, most appropriately I might add, by Vivian's little feet.

It hangs proudly in our den, where we spend most of our time. Thank you Anna for your lovely present and your lovely presence in our family.

Even Christmas cards can be tough

I used to send a newsy Christmas card every year-full of all the things my kids were doing, and how busy our lives were. I think people enjoyed getting them, or at least I hope they did.

When we lost Lauren, I stopped doing that. I just couldn't do it anymore. I sent a card and tried to put a small note in it to people, but the wind had been knocked out of me, so I am sure my scrawly handwriting was probably not appreciated much.

Aaron grew up, and was gone and Richard and I had an empty nest. Not much to say in a quiet house sometimes. At least not many interesting things to say, in my mind.

I've come to grips with the newsletter thing now, but this year I decided to try something new. I got one of those pre-printed "photo" cards and Anna and Aaron were generous enough to let us put the grand babies on it. Now, over the years, friends and family have sent us pictures with their great-looking grandchildren, and I was always a bit envious, I must say.

So I decided to ask our kids if we could join in the fun. They said yes, so I found a design I liked with a religious theme, and set to work to get a photo of those two jewels. Over Thanksgiving, the girls dressed in the matching Christmas dresses we bought for them; we set them on our knees in front of our fireplace and Anna snapped a few good pics of us.

We are aware the dressing alike phase will pass quickly as they emerge into the little personalities they are destined to be, so we are enjoying this little phase, too. It did both of us good to think all the people on our Christmas card list will get a stunning photo of the girls and a pretty good photo of the old folks this year.

Rosie is getting to the age when Christmas is going to be fun again, and we can't wait to see how she enjoys all the little things about the season and what Santa gives her. We're excited about the gifts we have bought for both girls, and to see their little eyes light up gives me new hope.

For now, enjoy with us, these little blessings....

Another little miracle in our lives

We were blessed again in August of last year with the birth of our second granddaughter Vivian Sharon. She is very different from Rosemary, our 3 year old, but their uniqueness from each other is the most wonderful thing!

Vivian seems to be a little more reserved than our outgoing Rosemary is, but she has her own little personality that will enchant you. She loves cookies and playing. She tries to emulate her sister in some things, but in others, she has her own take on things.

Earlier in November, their grandpa and I had the opportunity to have them spend the night with us without their parents, who were gone to a friend's wedding. I had forgotten how much work it was having two little toddlers to look after. We had a ball with them that weekend. My favorite time was when Vivian called me "Mimi" for her very first time. She melted my heart right then and there.

It is amazing what these 2 little ones can do for a broken heart. They seem to be able to put pieces back that were missing. They cannot take Lauren's place, but they are like glue when you try to put something back together that was broken- it may not look perfect, but it still functions.

We look forward when we are with them and want to enjoy them all we can. I am grateful that they know us and love us, and I want to be the best grandmother I can to them. Grandchildren are like getting a second chance in life. I am so grateful to have them.

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. 

Manic May

May was a crazy month this year. We observed the 10th anniversary of Lauren's death. There were reminders of our grief, fun times with family and friends, graduations, weddings, a conference and a trip to the beach. During all of the craziness, there was one evening that really touched me.

A young man in our parish is working on his Eagle Scout project, and he decided to refurbish our grotto. He enlisted the help of church members, his family and others to help in the project. He raised money for the project and the results were spectacular. 

Fr. Greg Schill, SCJ rededicated the grotto one lovely evening last month. For Catholics, the month of May is special. It is the month in which we honor the Blessed Mother. At the beginning of the month, the children crown our beautiful statue of Mary and we sing a song for her at each mass. 

I had the pleasure of photographing the rededication. One of the photos I took really touched me once I saw it. As we were getting ready for people to arrive, I was photographing the grotto and took this photo of Fr. Greg as he prepared himself for the service.

It seems as though the Blessed Mother is watching over him. I feel like she watches over us all. She knows my grief first hand, and I find great comfort in her example of humility and her willingness to be a servant. 

You can view the other photographs on our Facebook page at https://www.facebook.com/StGregorySenatobia. It is in our photo albums. 

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. 

Keep me holy

Next week is going to be tough. For Catholics, it is the holiest week of the year. It is the end of Lent and the beginning of the Easter season. Lent ends on Holy Thursday (aka "Maundy" Thursday) and our Triduum begins.

During those three days, we experience complete sadness remembering the death of our Lord, and exquisite joy celebrating His Resurrection and triumph over the grave. We celebrate the institution of the Eucharist, the source and summit of our faith. We marvel at His act of humility as he washed his disciples' feet. We ponder the cross and celebrate new members coming into the church. We renew our baptismal promises.  Most of all, our hearts will be pierced with the reality of His sacrifice as He paid the ultimate price for each and every one of us.

I'm a church musician, and it is my privilege (notice I did not say duty) to play at all four masses. In our little parish, very few do the work of many. (I have a feeling it's that way in many big parishes, too).  It is easy to get caught up in what we have to do and when -- what I have to play-- all those hymns, mass parts, responsorials... Sure, I want to sit in the pew and not worry about anything but worshipping, but I can't. I will make the sacrifice, because that is what I feel I am called to do.

Those of us who take an active part in the liturgy are under a lot of stress and pressure. It's easy to get lost in all of the "mechanics" of what has to be done to get through these four masses. It's easy to get frustrated, become resentful, be less "holy" than you should be.

That is what I meant when I entitled this post, "Keep me holy." It's really a prayer. It's really a petition. It is a plea.

Tonight I went to the Stations of the Cross. It hit me in the middle of our "journey" that it was the "Triduum in a nutshell." There it was - the whole story, really. It brought me such peace about next week. It reminded me that it is okay to make a mistake or to miss a cue, because He doesn't expect me to be perfect. He only expects me to be a servant. He only expects me to love.

So next week, I will strive for that balance- to be able to play for Him and pray to Him.  I will take up my "cross" willingly and (as I do every day) strive to become holy...  to be that loving servant.

The altar at our parish on Easter 2010

You can call me "Mimi"

I've been called a lot of things in my life. My daddy always called me "Baby." (Kind of like Frances Houseman in "Dirty Dancing.") My sister-in-law calls me "Juanzko." (Don't ask!) My godchildren call me "Nina," and my sweet Suzy (who lives next door to me) calls me "Mammie."

I'm Mom to my son, as I was to his sister.

There's a little person on the way who I hope will call me Mimi. We found out in February that our son and daughter-in-law were having their first child! Needless to say, my husband I were ecstatic.

Like everything else in our lives, the moment we found out our little one was coming was bittersweet. For us and our son and now for our daughter-in-law, there is something missing in everything in our lives. It is, as someone wisely said at the time of Lauren's death, our "new" normal.

I held my sweet daughter-in-law's hand across the table with tears in both of our eyes. Those tears were shared by our little family. The tears were tears of joy and of sadness. But one thing we all realized was that this little one coming this year is a double blessing. May 9 will be the 10th anniversary of Lauren's death. Having this baby to look forward to takes a lot of the sting out of this year.

We began to think about how excited Lauren would have been about this baby, and about being an aunt for the first time.

I believe that Lauren knows all about her niece or nephew and that she is rejoicing. We'll find out which it is at the end of next month.

Until then, I will imagine what this little person looks like. I will think about the times when we take our grandbaby to all the places we love: church, the Grove, to visit family, to Disneyworld! I will marvel at my son becoming a father, and his little family growing.

Until then...

She's back!

Well, here I am again, apologizing for not blogging. I keep stopping and starting and then stopping and starting again. But I keep trying, and I am trying again.

So it says in Proverbs 13:4, "The appetite of the sluggard craves but has nothing, but the appetite of the diligent is amply satisfied."  (I hope they aren't talking about food, what with all the New Year's Resolutions flying about.)

I think it really applies to me and my blog, though. I tell myself all the time I need to write, and then I don't so what do I have to show for it? NOTHING. Then I sit down and get "diligent" about it and I have something that makes (at least) me happy. It's therapeutic to me, and I refuse to do it from time to time. I'm not making any promises, but I do have a heart to try.

Our fall this year was super busy. We have season tickets at Ole Miss and tailgate with our friends every game. We've been doing that for years. After working all week, we cook for Saturday games on Friday night. We were not among the lucky ones who got parking on campus this year, so that meant we had to get there super early to park in Oxford as close as we could. Then we had to "drag" all our stuff to the Grove. This year, some lovely people decided to steal our tent and all our chairs. I hope they are enjoying the tent my husband and our friend David had to fix with duct tape.

This football season, we had a lot of fun taking David to his first Ole Miss game for his 40th birthday. He had a blast and seeing him happy made me happy! He is going to an Ole Miss basketball game with us in January. We will have a great time, I know.

I also got the chance of a lifetime at one of our games. I met one of my personal heroes, Lino Rulli (The Catholic Guy). He and his college buddies pick one college game to go to each year, and this year he chose Ole Miss.  I've been listening to him every day for almost 5 years on SiriusXM's Catholic Channel.

I can say with complete honesty that I have learned more about my faith from this crazy guy from Minnesota than I learned in the first 25 years I have been in the Church. It's ridiculous I know, but it's true. (He does have a Master's in Theology). He has three Emmys and several other awards to his credit, and delights in making fun of the size of his own nose, and his own shortcomings. He is charming and genuine in person, and to spend a few minutes with him made me so happy!

We ran full steam at work from September to December with football games, concerts, a play, a two scholarship receptions, homecoming and just everyday campus events to cover.

I am playing at mass again so throw in Advent, Holy Days, Guadalupe (had to learn 4 songs in Spanish) and Christmas and you've got one tired girl.

So I am not making excuses for not writing, because there is no real excuse. I am endeavoring to do better in 2014. I don't like to make resolutions, I like to try each day to reach the goals I have set for myself, and that's what I intend to do this year. Just try to do the things I think God wants me to do.

My friend David and me in the tent before the game.

After emailing all day, Lino and I met in front of the Union.

Forward in February

February has been full of changes.

We finally finished at least part of one of our 2013 projects - cleaning out Lauren's room. All of her "treasures" are stored carefully and locked up tightly, and I feel a bit better now. Both the kids' rooms are cleaned out and we have shopped around for paint colors and flooring choices. We have decided to make her room into a mini-music studio where her dad can play his guitars, I can play the piano and we can record some music. I think Lauren would have liked that a lot. Aaron's room will be a second guest room so we can entertain more family or friends who come to stay. This is another healing step in our difficult journey.

Our Holy Father surprised all of us early in the month when he announced his resignation. I woke up to the news early that morning, and thought I was dreaming. Resign? Popes don't do that, do they? Can they? It turns out they can and they have in the past, even if the last time was almost 600 years ago. I've learned more about the papacy in the past few weeks than I have ever known, and I have been a Catholic for nearly 30 years. When I went to mass in Italy last fall, I realized our church was universal, both liturgically and culturally. The pope's resignation caused me to read a lot about the history of the papacy and helped me realize this church is indeed 2,000 years old, reaching back to when Jesus handed the "keys" to his "Rock" St. Peter. Now we have a conclave (I love how the word comes from the Latin "clavis"or key). I have been in the very room where the Cardinals will convene and choose the next pope. I feel blessed to have been there. I pray that the Holy Spirit will guide them in this most important decision as our church moves forward.

As we move through Lent, we look forward to the celebration of Easter, our March Spring Break trip to S.C. with the kids, and the coming of spring.

Trying to make sense of it

This past week has been really tough on most folks in America. The horrible tragedy in Connecticut touched all of us in ways we could not imagine. No one could have guessed that a mere boy, who was  in kindergarten not that long ago himself, could go into an elementary school and murder 20 innocent children. Who could have known that he had murdered his own mother in her bed before he made that dreaded trip to Sandy Hook Elementary School to begin his slaughter? We might have known he would take his own life. That seems to be a growing trend in incidences like these.

This tragedy will be with us for a long time. As soon as I saw President Obama's face on the television, the thought struck me that he looked exactly like President Bush looked on the day of 9/11. The victims were like those in Oklahoma City, in Aurora, in Tucson and the Amish School in Nickel Mines - they were all innocent people going about their daily lives when they met their untimely deaths.

How can we make sense of this? I don't know if I will ever understand how the human mind works. I do believe that there is evil in the world, and that people can become evil and do evil deeds. I do know this: God gives us free will to make our own choices. He allows us to make decisions regarding our lives. Perhaps Mrs. Lanza's decision to try and take care of her son instead of getting him the help he needed was a bad decision. Perhaps she should not have had those guns in the house in such close proximity to her troubled son? Those were my thoughts, as I began to hear about Adam Lanza's troubled existence.

We struggle to find answers. We try to make sense of what happened. We talk about gun control and video games. I believe we have the right, as our Constitution promises, to bear arms. We use guns in our society for protection, for hunting, for competition. I believe we must continue to enforce our laws regarding guns. I grew up in a house with guns and so did my husband and our children. But there were never any accidental shootings and especially none on purpose. That is because we were taught to respect not only the guns, but also the sanctity of human lives.

It was said that Adam Lanza spent countless hours in his basement playing violent video games. I really am ignorant of these games and what they entail, so I really cannot opine on them. I do believe what I read over 20 years ago, however. I read an article that predicted a desensitization of the coming generations due to the graphic violence in movies and television. And that was a long time ago. I worried about my children, and decided it was my job as a parent to control what my children saw. I knew it was impossible to completely shield them from society, so I tried to balance what they saw with reality. I taught them the value of human life.

That comes to my point: I believe what causes many of our problems today is, to coin an old phrase,"the breakdown of the family." We can blame it on working women, divorce or anything else we want, but I believe that no matter what circumstance people find themselves in, if they are good parents, they are good parents.  If their child needs help, they find help for him. They find a way to teach their children right from wrong, to keep them in their sights, and know what they are doing.

God gives us these children for a short amount of time. He allows us to have them so that we can teach them and guide them and love them. We are to show our children the unconditional love God has for us, and discipline them with love. It is our responsibility not to raise them as "friends" but as responsible Christian citizens of this country and this world.

So back to our tragedy- We will not understand Lanza's motive because he has gone to meet his maker now. We must strive to bring comfort to those who have suffered loss, through prayer and support. We must vow to value each human life and teach the coming generations to value life also.

The Hebrew prophet Micah writes: "Ah! you plotters of iniquity, who work out evil on your beds! In the morning light you carry it out for it lies within your power."  That verse really hits home, doesn't it? 

Are we meaner than we used to be?

I'll be so glad when this election is over, and I almost feel the same way about football season at this point. It seems that politics and football bring out the worst in people. I cannot believe some of the ugly and personal remarks I have witnessed both on television and on social media this political season. It seems some people think social media gives them license to just be mean-spirited about the person they oppose. Never mind the issues, just trash the person.

It is not right, in my book. Gone are the days when people really sought to educate themselves on the issues, and discuss them rationally. We should really know what we are voting for when we go into that booth. It is vital that we look past the party and the personality, and try to discern the man or woman we think will represent us best in our state and in our nation.

Same goes with football. People are so mean about other people's teams. I am a great believer in rivalries. I think it is healthy and American to have sports rivalries. Haven't we seen enough already with two dead trees, and a so-called "fan" who is now a registered sex-offender for behaving like a jerk after the national championship? You even see little league parents getting into fist fights at their children's games.  I'm sure there are countless other examples, but these were fresh in my mind.

I read the news daily about children being abused, tortured and killed by strangers and even their own parents, in some cases. There are "gone missing" cases every day and our children are being bullied to the point of suicide.

We as Christians are called to show Christ to others in our lives. As Catholics, we are taught to "be Christ" to others. I try not to say too much on Facebook and Twitter about politics, although I do post about my favorite football teams!

Maybe someone might call me a chicken, for not stating my opinion on politics. I will say this, I am a Catholic and a Christian, and as such, I am pro-life. So my voting is very influenced by that issue. I believe in taking care of the poor and marginal, which is what my faith teaches. I try to be as Christ to all, and fall short every day of my life. But I try.

I pray that we as a society, will return to some sense of decorum and integrity. I hope we can learn to love each other, but if not, I hope we can at least respect each other's right to our own opinions, and learn to tolerate our differences.

Peace of Christ.

Aaron's birthday poster for 2012

This week, my precious son Aaron turns 29. He is such a joy to his father and me. We are both SOOO proud of the man he has become. Like his father, he works hard and like his father is to me,  he is a wonderful husband to our sweet daughter-in-law, Anna. Aaron had a great example in his father of what a Christian husband should be, and he is following that example daily.

I remember clearly the day he was born. He came on his due date, which I am told is rare for a first baby. I have forgotten the labor, and any pain I may have experienced. I only remember the first time I laid eyes on the precious baby God had given me. We spent our maternity leave together in our little apartment in Downey, CA where we lived when Aaron was born. I sang to him and read to him every day, and I will never forget those first days we had together.

We had a little old black and white TV we had gotten from my older brother. The dial was broken so you had to change it with a pair of pliers. Aaron laughs every time we tell that little family story. His dad brought home a rented color television so we could watch all the Christmas specials and movies that year.

Aaron was joined by his sister when he was 2 years and one month old, and he loved her fiercely until the day she died.  He was her champion and her very best friend, and he loves as much today as the day she was born. Being Aaron, he has been a source of comfort and support for his mom and dad in the days since we lost our beloved Lauren. Our little family unit was always strong and tight, and has remained that way, even through our grief.

My two favorite boys. 

Aaron was a typical boy, rambunctious and full of vim and vigor, but always, always a great joy to us. He really never gave us any trouble at all. He has made us prouder than I can get across to him. I can't tell him enough. Graduating from Ole Miss and embarking on his career and into marriage, he has shown himself to be everything we ever hoped he would be. He is a very talented musician (which he gets from both sides of his family) and he loves music and sports.

When Aaron was a little boy, I always surprised him with a little hand-made "Happy Birthday" poster on the refrigerator. It would say, for example, "Happy 9th (or whatever year it was) Birthday, Aaron!" and I would decorate it to the best of my limited ability. (I am certainly NOT an artist!) He would always look forward to that. I haven't been able to do that in the past few years since he has lived away from home, so this is his "Birthday Poster" for this year.

So, "Happy 29th Birthday, Aaron!" We love you more than words can convey...

One of my favorite pictures of Aaron and me. Cotton Bowl 2009

Growing in Grace (I dropped my lunch today)

I recounted this incident on Facebook right after it happened, but I will repeat it just the same.

This was my post:

"So, I was walking across the street from the parking lot to my office when the bottom of the Bath and Body Works paper bag I was recycling for my lunch bag gave way and my lunch went everywhere. I picked all of my lunch up, piece by piece off the ground and stuck it all in my gym bag until I could get inside. Someone said, "What a way to start the day!" I was actually really calm about it, because the thought struck me that I at least had a lunch to pick up. So, thank you Lord for the food you have given me today. And I pray for those who don't have anything to eat." As of this writing, 52 of my friends "liked" my post. 

I really kind of surprised myself, quite frankly. Usually,  I get really mad over little things like that, and have been known to utter a curse word I shouldn't utter on occasion. In other words, I don't have much patience with little things like traffic, dropping things, stubbing my toe or hitting my head. I am still mystified at why I reacted the way I did, but I am grateful I did. 

In retrospect, I hope that I am growing in grace. I have prayed that I would, and maybe the Lord is answering that prayer. 

Last Friday, I had the opportunity to ask forgiveness of a stranger (well, she is in my Zumba class, so she is not a complete stranger.) A while back, she and I had a little run-in at Zumba. Without going into details, I will admit I lost my patience (and my temper) and said something sort of mean to her. I didn't like her (or so I thought). I apologized, and she immediately apologized for what she had done, and then in the midst of our conversation I mentioned Lauren. As it turns out, she runs a hospice. She is also a grief counselor. Long story short, I told her I would be willing to talk to a grieving parent if I am needed. What a gift! I asked God to grant me opportunities to help others who are grieving. Those of us in the same "club" understand each other, and there were others who helped me. 

I hate to talk in cliches, but as I have heard it said in the past, "God isn't finished with me yet." I certainly hope not. I hope He will give me lots of opportunities to grow in grace. 

Fri., Sept. 7 My date with David on my last day in Firenze

This morning, we waited in trepidation after breakfast for the tour driver to come, having missed the tour yesterday. A couple of phone calls yesterday and a fax from American Express seemed to have worked out the issue, but one can never be sure. At 8:40, the driver came into our mad, tourist-filled, bus boarding lobby and walked straight up to me  asking if I was Signora Tallo. RT was outside looking for him. I replied “Si”, and he said, “Prego.” After a week here, I knew it was time to go. 

RT found us and we drove to the bus station at Santa Maria Novella to find our tour. The guy who met us there looked like he could have been Lino Rulli’s younger brother. He looked us up on his iPad, found us and told us to wait. 

A short time later a couple walked up and the guy was wearing, of all things, a University of Alabama hat. The Crimson Tide is everywhere, I guess. Turns out they live in Atlanta. RT and the guy had a friendly exchange about SEC football and then the rest of the folks and our tour guide showed up. 

We drove in two mini-vans across the city to the Piazzale Michelangelo! (This made it the third time RT and I had been there, but it was still cool to see.)  We went back down the hill through the areas we had been yesterday, and finally ended up at the Academia, where David lives (or rules!) 

The tour guide was explaining a lot of the history of the city as we were going along, and when we got to the museum, there was Signori Rulli again to check us in and give us tickets and radios to hear the guide. We skipped the line (my favorite thing) and went right in. We got to see some beautiful old musical instruments including several Stardivari violins, cellos, harpsichords, dulcimers, horns and pianos. 

Then we went into the art side to view some beautiful paintings, panels and sculptures. We made our way through until beautiful David appeared around the corner. He stood there majestically in the center of an area where you could walk around him and admire him from every angle. He has a stone in his right  hand and his slingshot over his left shoulder. Ready for battle, the tour guide said, but I always thought I could imagine Goliath on the ground waiting to have his head cut off. 

We finished the tour through the room of plaster sculptures for a break in the bookstore and a look at someone’s idea of a joke. It was a copy of my precious David, but he was looking pretty funny. I said it was a replica of David by Michel Redneckio.  After this, we then proceeded to the end of the tour. 

Walking through the streets, he pointed out a home where Leonardo Da Vinci had lived and showed us the “headquarters” belonging to the Medicis. That one family produced two popes and two queens of France, along with very high government officials in Fireneze long before the unification of Italy.  

Our guide left us at the Basilica of the Santa Maria del Fiore, or as the Florentines call it, Il Duomo (the Dome). It is the third largest church in the world behind St. Peter’s and St. James in London, according to our guide. It is Gothic style with a Mediterannean flair. There was no line, so Richard and I went inside. Once again, we were overwhelmed by the beauty inside. 

We made our way back through the Ponte Vecchio to a side street where we found a restaurant and had some excellent food. Then we walked the long way back to the hotel to rest before going out to dinner, and do some last minute things like printing boarding passes! Tomorrow we head back to the good old USA! I will miss Italy, but I do look forward to getting home. 

So I say Ciao, Italia! I know I will return to you one day. 

 Lino Rulli's little brother. (If you don't know Lino, please google him!)

The replica of David by Michel Redneckio

 The Medici building. 

 The place where Da Vinci lived for a brief time. 

 Il Duomo- I could not get the whole building in my frame. I wanted to show some detail. 

 Looking up into the dome.

When they tell you to cover your shoulders to enter a church, they mean business! You don't, you end up in a hospital gown!