Dermot, our wild Irish rose

I've been working on a project lately. I am going through pictures for my son. I want him to know who the people in his family and among his friends are in the photos, so I am  categorizing and labeling them for him. Seeing pictures of my daughter is particularly hard for me sometimes. My precious friend Dawn worries about me going through these pictures all alone, but I have to do it sometime. It may as well be now.

This week, I found some pictures of our sweet priest/friend, Fr. Dermot Twomey, SCJ. He passed away four years ago today on March 25, 2008.

He was more than just a priest to me. He was my friend, and he was absolutely a father to me. What a precious soul he was. I loved him fiercely, as did many in our parish. He truly was Christ to us in so many ways.

I learned to love his community, the Priests of the Sacred Heart, or Dehonians, and their charism. They are such precious men and their work is so special. If not for them, we in North Mississippi would have to drive to Memphis or somewhere out of our way to worship and receive our Lord in the Eucharist. They started our parishes and have served us to this day.

Fr. Dermot was a tall, lanky Irishman with wild hair and a quirky sense of humor who loved the Lord above all. It was evident, especially, when he was in the midst of a homily. It was like a light was shining on his face when he taught us.

We used to see him almost every time we went to the casino in Tunica. He was never in the gaming area, but was always at the buffet, with a group of elderly women who were Irish Travelers. He ministered to that group all the time.

One day I came to him and told him I had seen a church just outside of town that was offering Spanish-speaking services. That same week, someone who knew I was Catholic asked me if I knew about the "new Mexican Catholic church in town." After explaining that Catholic churches don't just "pop-up" out of nowhere, I went to Father. He and I discussed the fact that we felt the Spanish-speaking community in Tate County might be lost to us if we did not reach out to them and let them know we were there. We started offering a Spanish mass on Saturday evening. Today, every mass at our parish is  bilingual, and our church family has nearly doubled.

He came to bring the host to my mother and father-in-law who were visiting us, and not able to come to mass, due to physical limitations. He even went to visit my in-laws when he went on a trip to see a brother-priest in Las Vegas where they lived.

On his birthday one year, we had a big parish party for him, and I was able to get a Celtic musician friend to come and perform. He danced the Irish jig in the Church Hall that night. Later, he said, "It felt like being back home." I think it really made him happy.





Fr. Dermot came to us when Lauren died. He was heart-broken I know. Lauren was his special friend at church. He loved her and always said what a special girl she was. He stayed strong for us, and was flexible enough to understand that our little parish was not large enough for the funeral, so he agreed to bring an altar to the Fine Arts Auditorium at Northwest to accommodate the many people who came. He celebrated her funeral mass and it was as lovingly done as her wedding might have been because of him.

When Father got sick, it nearly broke our hearts. He kept going as long as he could, running from one parish to another, serving us like he always had. A few weeks before he finally retired, he called me out of the blue. After talking about how he was feeling, he finally got around to the reason for his call. I realized after listening to him for a minute that he was asking me, in so many words, if I thought it was ok for him to leave. It had nothing to do with ego. He loved our parishes so much that he did not want to disappoint us. He wanted me to tell him it was ok, I think. I told him that we loved him and that we wanted him to get well most of all, and it was ok for him to rest. He had served us and the Church well.
He thanked me and gave me his blessing.

I keep his picture on my dresser. I think of him and miss him every day. Before I met Fr. Dermot, I had never really known a priest personally. He made me realize what a gift the priesthood is to all of us. I have a deep devotion to his community and try to support them through prayer and donations as often as I am able.

In the past few years, I have come to know several younger priests in his community. They are all wonderful men, and I know their brother Dermot would be so proud of them.

I love Lucy (and Suzy, Alex and Carson, too)

Lucy was born last night at around 11 p.m. She is the newborn daughter of my young friends Dustin and Allicia, whom I have never met in person. They are my friends because we had a common interest in The Catholic Guy Show on Sirius XM. We became friends through this crazy phenomenon we call "Social Meda." Dustin was kind enough to let me blog on the CGS fan blog for a while. I feel like I know them because I talk to them almost everyday on Twitter and Facebook. Lucy is so adorable.

Suzy, who is six weeks old,  belongs to my wonderful next door neighbors, Amy and Scott. She is absolutely beautiful. Last time I saw her, she laid her little head on my shoulder when I was holding her. She is such a sweet baby, I cannot wait to see her again! Amy is such a wonderful mother to her, and Scott is crazy about her. It does my heart so good to see her, whether it is in person or on Facebook.

Last week, my great-great nephew Alex was born. He is my late brother Maurice's great-grandson. Maurice was the oldest (23 when I was born) and I was the youngest. Alex is just gorgeous. I cannot wait to see him and hold him when I get to S.C. I miss my family, and seeing him on Facebook makes me want to be home with them. 

Carson is my great-niece and she is now 7 months old. She belongs to my brother Andre's  only daughter, Leslie.  She was a long time coming to our family but she could not have been a more wonderful gift to us. My brother is so happy to have gained two step-granddaughters and a granddaughter over the past few years. He feels very blessed as we all do. Carson is so much like Leslie, it almost makes me cry to see her. I am looking forward to seeing her on my next trip home, too. 

Today's trip to the cemetery to visit Lauren and place her purple Lenten flowers there was a little easier than it could have been, because of these wonderful babies who have come into my life. They bring me comfort, joy and most of all hope. They all live in homes filled with love and laughter, and with families who love them. I pray that one day all children have those things in their lives. 

I'm just wild about Harry

I am finally embarking on a journey that has taken almost 8 years to begin. I promised myself that I would read the Harry Potter books after Lauren died, because she loved them so much. I wanted to do it before now, I intended to do it before now and I really thought I would do it before now. But I hadn't.

Lauren loved those books and the movies that were out before she died. We decided to continue seeing the movies after she died as a tribute to her, and we have watched every one. I remember how she used to be so immersed in the books. She would read them for hours, and could not put them down. She was very angry that people thought they were occult and anti-Christian. "They are just stories, Mama. Everybody knows this stuff can't happen," Lauren would say.

Last month I asked my daughter-in-law Anna if she had read the books. She said she had and after I explained why I wanted to read them, she willingly lent them to me. I have finished the first one, and am in the midst of the second. 

As crazy as it sounds, they make me feel close to Lauren and surprisingly enough, Anna. I love them. The characters are so lively and fun. The stories are so interesting. I finally understand why everyone is so wild about Harry. 

I plan to finish all of them by the end of the year. 

Time flies even when you're not having fun.

It hit me the other day: it's 2012. It's not like I was sleeping and only woke up at the end of January. I just started thinking about a new year and what it would mean for our family and friends. There will be happy times, of course. This year marks our 30th wedding anniversary, and we are planning a trip to Rome! Two of or godsons will celebrate their first Eucharists, and we will baptize a new godson and a new goddaughter.  Our niece Kimberly will graduate from college. Our son and his wife will celebrate their first anniversary, and Lauren's friend Margaret will be married in March. So there are many reasons to rejoice in this coming year. 

One thing that really struck me when thinking of all of these things, was when I realized this would mark the 8th anniversary of our daughter's death. Eight years! It seems impossible to think of. Sometimes it feels like it was only yesterday, and then it feels like eternity. Where has the time gone? So many things have happened since she left: milestones in people's lives that she has missed. Marriages, births and deaths  that she was not here for. It makes me wonder what she sees and what she is aware of.  I take solace in the Communion of Saints. 

Shortly after we lost her, someone asked me if we knew exactly what happened to cause her car accident. I had to admit that I did not know then, and I still don't. Neither the police chief or the fire chief of our little town could figure it out and tell us. It dawned on me that when I did find out (in heaven) I would not care. That is so true. It won't matter then. Even if I did know, it would not change the outcome, because none of us can turn back the calendar or the clock. 

There have been moments of joy these past few years, as I am sure there will be in the coming years that I am here. For now, I will treasure the moments I have with my husband, son and daughter-in-law (and future grandchildren, hopefully), my family and my friends. I will continue to commune with my brothers and sisters in Christ, and I will look for the day when I meet my Lord. and be reunited with my loved ones. 

Anna's act of kindness

I have a picture somewhere that was taken when my son Aaron was a baby. We are at my brother Maurice's house, and my sister-in-law Debbie is holding Aaron. I am sitting next to her and we are laughing about something. Every time I see that picture it brings me so much joy. It reminds me of our carefree days as a young couple with a new baby.

Our son is now 28 years old. This past August, he married a lovely young woman. Our daughter-in-law Anna is wonderful. It is like God has blessed us with another daughter. She loves our son unconditionally, and that means the world to us.

February 2 marks one year since they were engaged. Shortly after their engagement, Anna came to us and said she wanted to do something at the wedding to remember and honor our daughter Lauren. It was not something she had to do, it was something she wanted to do.  She decided she would have one less bridesmaid than Aaron had groomsmen. She was leaving open the space that Lauren would have filled had she still been here with us. We were overwhelmed at this gesture, but more so at the heart of this young woman who was to become our daughter-in-law.

The day of the wedding came, and Anna surprised us yet again. In the wedding program she had our daughter Lauren listed as "Bridesmaid in Memoriam" along with the other bridesmaids. After I was escorted down the aisle, Lauren's groomsman (my son Aaron's oldest friend Gene) came back to bring me a bridesmaid's bouquet. Attached to the bouquet was a locket with Lauren's picture in it.

Anna did not have to share her special day in this way. I venture to say that not many young women would. But she did. That little act of kindness spoke volumes to what kind of woman our son was fortunate enough to marry. It tells you the kind of family she comes from, and it tells you what kind of heart she has. She has already proven to be a wonderful wife to Aaron and I know that she will be a great mother to our grandchildren one day. I know Lauren would have loved having her as a "sister" as much as we love having her as a "daughter."

DO sweat the small stuff?

Ever known anyone who loves to make a mountain out of a molehill? Sure, we all have. Maybe we still do. Are those little bitty things really that important?

When my daughter died 7 1/2 years ago, my perspective and priorities changed forever. I began to realize that those little things were not that important. My priorities became different.  I was determined to do the things I thought Lauren would expect me to do: take care of her dad and her brother; attend Mass and participate in the parish through our music ministry; continue to be a part of our community; take care of myself... All of that was understandable. I knew she would expect no less. 

What I didn't expect was my reaction to other people when they went on living their daily lives. When others made mountains out of molehills I got restless and angry. I could not fathom how, in the midst of my grief, others could talk about "having a bad day." Once I told someone who said that, "You have no idea what a bad day is." I know now that God did not want me to act that way. 

As time went on, I realized my attitude needed to change. I began to thank God that people did not have to live my grief, and that being able to sweat the small stuff was actually their blessing. They did not have to experience the feeling of things being so out of whack and so surreal that you could hardly make it through the day.  On top of it all I knew in my heart that Lauren would not have wanted me to be bitter and angry. She loved life. She was not that kind of person, and neither, thankfully, am I. 

The "recovering" me knows that sometimes sweating the small stuff is normal. Its ok, to a certain extent. The "Catholic" me knows the truth: God is in control whether we make mountains out of molehills or sweat the small stuff.  No matter what, he is in the driver's seat. He expects us to minister to others, to forgive people of their shortcomings, as he does ours, and to treat all his children with respect, love and care. He expects and longs for us to strive for one thing: to have a heart like his. 

My Universal Family

I resisted the urge to tag this post with something like outer space, extraterrestrial, or aliens, although it would have been funny. On the other hand, it may have brought some traffic I didn't want. When I say I have a universal family I mean it. 

If you look up the word universal, you might get a definition like this: Of, affecting, or done by all people or things in the world or in a particular group. You will also see that one of the synonyms for universal is catholic. That is what I am talking about. I belong to the universal or Catholic Church, and my family includes over a billion people at any given time. 

My exposure to my "family" was for a long time limited to the people I knew in my parish, relatives and maybe a few I might encounter along the way. On a few occasions I would be made aware of our universality: attending Mass at St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York, a retreat at Christian Brothers with our youth, watching the coverage of John Paul II's visit to the U.S.  

About 2 years ago, I discovered a new way to connect with my family: Catholic media. I started listening to the Catholic Channel on XM. I connected with people on Facebook and Twitter though one of the shows on the channel. I joined Facebook prayer groups. All of a sudden, I have a network of people outside of my local parish to share my faith with and it is awesome. They keep me accountable, they make me laugh,  and they share my triumphs and sorrows.

We all come from different places, we are different ages, we have different vocations, and we may even speak different languages, but we have one thing in common: we all belong to that universal church and share Jesus at every Mass.