Creekside with the birthday girl…

A birthday in a large family is a treat for everyone…

This evening we celebrate Rylee, age 9…our ninth and seemingly last child.  What a joy…

It was so lovely to pack a delicious dinner and travel to one of our favorite haunts with our favorite 9 year old and the rest of our crew…

For dining…

Tree climbing…

Rock hunting…

Arrowhead finding…

(Zachary is so proud of his Neolithic arrowhead find…he even let the birthday girl pose with his treasure:)

Swimming and resting…

It is truly the simplest things that bring the most joy.  In two days, we mark another May birthday and my big guy, Michael, has asked for the same kind of celebration.

Have cooler, will travel!

Blessings,

Five years…

Catholic Family Vignettes is five years old today…

I remember when I told my husband that I was going to start writing a blog.  I told him I couldn’t imagine that there would actually be very many people who would want to muddle through my thoughts and musings, but wouldn’t it be cool if, say, 3000 people read something I wrote?  Or if I could make some new friends?  And wouldn’t it be great to have a journal of sorts of who we are and what we do?  Sometimes in the rush and haste of it all I forget…

Five years later, nearly 280,000 visitors, 1190 posts, 4000 comments and a whole lot of friends, I’m awed by the technology that bridges continents and hearts…so many of you have been faithful to this little space even when I haven’t.  I thank you.  I feel as though I’ve received so much more than I’ve given and I thank you for that as well.

My life has been rather crazy of late.  Full time mothering, home education, homemaking and college have stretched me to the max.  There’s been a good deal of stress from so many outside sources that have rocked my world and put me on my knees…but you, my faithful friends, have been there with words of encouragement and support…I’m awed.

So thank you again.  Thank for sharing this journey with me.  I hope to more faithfully journal our hopes and joys, sorrows and pain.  God bless you for your prayerful presence…

Blessings,

The Garden

She lives in a garden. A beautiful garden filled with sunlight. When, as a young woman, she was asked to envision her life, she saw herself living in a high rise apartment in the heart of a big city with a potted plant as a companion. Instead, God, in His infinite wisdom, placed her in the center of a magnificent garden, surrounded by blooms of incomparable beauty. By her “yes” to life, she was given it in abundance and worked day and night, lovingly tending her little patch of Heaven.

She had never considered that each time a new seed was sewn, the boundaries that defined her, would expand, too. The rougher edges of selfishness that she was never able to file away, gradually smoothed. “This is who I am!” she thought in wonder and marveled that her own sense of self had so altered from those early days of musing.

But the little path that wound through her garden one day became a rocky road and one of her little blooms had lost its color. Another no longer unfurled its petals. Another still had become choked with weeds having moved to a soil much different than that which it had enjoyed in the shelter of the garden. She began to despair. Gazing in wonder at the lovely blooms that filled her world with color, she still sighed for those which seemed lost, and redoubled her efforts to tend the ones that needed her care. But many times she would leave her large garden and travel the rocky road to find those bruised and trampled flowers. Fighting predators and disease, she tried to offer remedies and comfort. Oftentimes, she would barely recognize them…their beauty so marred by neglect, their fragrance diminished. Her little flowers had forgotten the garden, and though tended so lovingly for so long; they had lost all memory of the original Gardener, who had so lovingly nestled them in a place of love and security. She grieved. A cloud had descended that covered the sun and she feared that her skills were no longer sufficient to tend such a large garden. Every little weed, every little bug seemed an enemy of monumental proportion and many days she trembled and watered that garden with her tears.

But then the Gardener reminded her that these little blooms were only ever loaned to her for a time. She was to tend them with her whole heart, body and soul, giving life-water and light until the time that each might settle roots in other fertile soil. But she could not choose that soil for them…for just as the original Gardener had let her choose where and how to sow, so must these frail flowers do. He told her that His best gardeners kneel in the midst of dirt and stone, rock and mud and wait for the promised yield, each plant blooming and producing according to its kind and schedule.

She gazed lovingly amongst the tender blooms and shoots around her, secure in the knowledge that her efforts are not in vain. For as surely as the sun rises and sets, as the dew and raindrops fall, so shall her garden, through her patience and diligence, burst into fruit and flower in His time…

He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end. ~Ecclesiastes 3:11~

Blessings,

It happened one Mother’s Day…

The following event occurred on Mother’s Day 2000 and is one of my favorite memories…

It was a beautiful Sunday morning. The sky was crystal clear, a celestial blue of such depth…the bowers of the flowering crab apple tree in our backyard were laden with snow-white blossoms. Each gentle breeze sent a shower of petals upon the wind. To drink in this beauty, to exult in the glory of God’s creation on the Sabbath – what could be a more perfect way to spend Mother’s Day?

Alas, these are the questions you ask yourself when your entire family is sick with the stomach flu, you have just missed attending Holy Mass as well as the May crowning of our Blessed Mother and looming before you are prospects for a day of hard labor (nurturing the sick, cleaning up the bed clothes and the sure knowledge that NO ONE wants dinner!) Our family numbered seven children at this time, and all of them were sick. As the day wore on, I began to lapse into a serious state of self-pity. “Why the Sabbath, Lord? And Mother’s Day?!” Though I continued my duties faithfully, interiorly I was not a faithful servant at all. It was now mid-afternoon and I walked into my kitchen (which was a wreck by this time) to assess the possibilities for some kind of meal, knowing that very little would be palatable to my poor, suffering children. My husband, of course, has the patience of a saint, and provided so much assistance, but I could only pray that his optimism would sustain us all, for I was feeling wretched inside. As I passed the large glass doors to my backyard, the brilliant blue of the sky and the gentle breezes beckoned. I stepped outside, sat down at the table on the back patio and cried.

(We should never underestimate how much we need the graces given at every Mass. These very graces make possible the diligent performance of the duties suited to our vocation. I felt devoid of grace! Weak and pathetic, that I could feel bad for myself while my children were suffering sickness).

Through my tears, I looked over at my much neglected Mary garden and beheld the statue of our Lady. No cards or flowers for the Holy Mother of God on Mother’s Day. The Mother of God was given a “sword” that would pierce her heart. I decided at that moment to give Mother’s Day to our Lady. I dried my tears, walked over to my garden and began to clear the many weeds that were crowding about Mary. I began to think of these weeds as the little distractions of my daily life – my pride, my self-pity and a tendency towards a too “Martha” approach to my vocation. As the weeds were cleared, the flowers became increasingly visible…rather like the virtues that our Lady so humbly espouses and that I had allowed to become hidden in my own life. I began to hum as the work continued…it was so peaceful, so quiet, and soon I was singing “Salve Regina”. A few moments passed and my precious husband stepped outside to see what had become of his wife. Though his first words were “honey, I am so sorry”, he was truly greeted by a much happier wife and together we both continued the work of beautifying our Lady’s garden.

One by one, our sick children began to come outside to see where their parents had gone. Five of the children were now outside (the eldest was inside with the baby and a terrible headache), each one wishing their Mother a Happy Mother’s Day…and it could not have been sweeter. In the midst of their suffering they remembered their mother (just as in the midst of my suffering I had remembered my Mother).

Gathered in our backyard, surrounding a small patch of earth upon which rested a statue of our Blessed Mother, we placed the small, silk floral crown which had been reserved for all of our previous May Crownings. Five sick children and two exhausted parents honored the Mother of God in the only way we could.

Above our heads, a very large red-tailed hawk was lazily circling. This hawk was soon noticed by a pair of robins that were nesting locally and were extremely concerned about the danger this predator posed to their young. The two small birds attacked furiously, raising a tremendous commotion that soon drew the attention of the family. We observed the antics of these birds briefly (and all of us are certain that this activity served only to draw our attention skyward) because a much more fantastic phenomena was occurring at this time. The sun was directly above us in a cloudless sky, and surrounding the sun was a large circular rainbow, which was also circled by yet another rainbow only ¾ formed. I cannot adequately convey our surprise and awe at this spectacle. It truly seemed an event given as a gift from our Lord through the intercession of the Blessed Mother. As we all exclaimed in wonder, one of the children remembered our eldest who was still inside. She went to retrieve her sister and baby brother and as the three children came outside to view this beautiful event…it simply vanished! The entire event lasted no more that 2-3 minutes, though time truly seemed to stand still! A day of suffering, sacrifice and surprise! How little our Lord asks from us and how great are His gifts…

Our Lady of Silence…

From the archives…a meditation on silence and our Lady’s model of this increasingly absent virtue…

Silence.

There is precious little of it in the world. In the busy life of a mother of many young ones, it is indeed rare. From cell phones, to radios, cds, dvds, mp3 players and a constant barrage of conversation, it seems the contemplative nature of motherhood is struggling for survival. The cacophony has even made its way into the sanctuary of the Church…there are quite a few parishes where the noise and conversation before and after Holy Mass is reminiscent of a rock concert, with a few dear souls struggling to offer prayer and meditation prior to and after receiving Holy Communion.

How do we keep silence? Our Lady is the perfect example for all of womanhood in this virtue. Holy Scripture reveals very little of what our Lady said throughout the course of her life. A sentence here and there: “Behold I am the handmaid of the Lord; let it be [done] to me according to Thy word” “Son…they have no wine…” “your father and I have been anxiously searching for you…” “Do whatever He tells you…” And the way of the cross? Heartbreaking silence revealed what words could not…

During her betrothal, Mary even kept silent when Joseph must have been thinking the very worst. She, whose virtue and holiness was so apparent, was visibly pregnant with a child that was not his. His heart was breaking. He knew the penalty for this “sin” and yet seemed to know Mary was blameless and was going to “put her away quietly”. All this time, Mary knew his pain and knew that public perception would convict her of shame. She didn’t defend. She didn’t explain. She kept her silence and let the Holy Spirit do the work. Words weren’t necessary. She kept her thoughts to herself and maintained a spirit of quiet contemplation…

With one exception.

The Magnificat. The longest speech our Lady gives, is one in which she praises God. Her words, it seems, are reserved for that which is most important…offering praise and adulation for her God:

My soul magnifies the Lord,
And my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.
For He has regarded the low estate of His handmaiden,
For behold, henceforth all generations shall call me blessed.
For He who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is His name. And His mercy is on those who fear Him from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with His arm:
He has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts.
He has put down the mighty from their thrones,
and exalted those of low degree.
He has filled the hungry with good things;
and the rich He has sent empty away.
He has helped His servant Israel, in remembrance of His mercy;
As He spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to His posterity forever.

I find myself, of late, calling upon the Blessed Mother, more and more, to help me hold my tongue…I’m such a chatterbox. I speak too quickly and too much…and while I do relish silence and seek times of contemplation, I don’t feel I live contemplatively. My vocation pulls me this way and that…it is the sweet tug-of-war that every mother experiences throughout her day as she finds the Cross amidst the dishes and the piles of laundry. May our good Lady of Silence help to calm and quiet the noise and distraction of daily life and help us to remember that God’s voice is best heard…when we are listening.

From Holy Father, John Paul II:

“Mary’s example enables the Church better to appreciate the value of silence. Mary’s silence is not only moderation in speech, but it is especially a wise capacity for remembering and embracing in a single gaze of faith the mystery of the Word made man and the events of his earthly life.

It is this silence as acceptance of the Word, this ability to meditate on the mystery of Christ, that Mary passes on to believers. In a noisy world filled with messages of all kinds, her witness enables us to appreciate a spiritually rich silence and fosters a contemplative spirit.” 

And from the book of 1 Kings 19:12

Then the LORD said, “Go outside and stand on the mountain before the LORD; the LORD will be passing by.” A strong and heavy wind was rending the mountains and crushing rocks before the LORD–but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake–but the LORD was not in the earthquake.

After the earthquake there was fire–but the LORD was not in the fire. After the fire there was a tiny whispering sound…Blessings,

Why We Pray The Rosary…

This is a repost…it’s been a couple years since I’ve run it, but it’s May…the Month of Mary…a perfect time. Written on the Feast of the Most Holy Rosary in 2009 after our good priest made this statement: “Everybody has a story about the Rosary…” Those who are devoted to the Rosary and our Lady know the truth of these words and are quick to share their story.

Here’s ours:

We are a family that prays the Rosary. Not nearly as often as we should, nor as often as we’d like, but we do pray it as often as we can. It is the cord that binds us together, strengthening our family as few other devotions have. Rosaries can be found throughout our home, in our cars, in purses and pockets, draped over statues and hanging upon the wall. We’ve made Rosaries for missions and prisons, given them as gifts to friends and family, and nearly everyone of us have worn a Rosary ring at one time or another.

It wasn’t always this way…as converts from protestantism, we had very little experience with what many detractors refer to as “vain and repetitious prayer.” Learning the historicity of the beautiful beads and the prayers attached to each, we came to understand the depth of biblical teaching, dogma and tradition contained in such a seemingly simple series of prayers. I found it intriguingly beautiful…

So I obtained a booklet of the prayers and began to pray the Rosary alone. I was very shy about it…I don’t know why. I would pray in the car. I would pray early in the morning when the children were asleep. Not with my family. Praying the Rosary had become a private devotion, one that I kept a secret.

Until the accident.

In 1995, I was involved in a terrible car accident. While traveling the north bound lane of a major interstate (and praying the 5th Joyful Mystery of the rosary), my vehicle was struck by a semi. The vehicle was propelled across the median, flipped over 1 1/2 times and was skidding on its hood when it was struck by another vehicle in the south bound lane. My vehicle was upside down at the time, and the front of that other vehicle entered the rear of my mini-van and sheared off the driver’s seat (which I was in). At the time of the accident, I was quite sure I would die, and remember asking our Lord (quite calmly, considering the situation) to not “let me kill anyone else”. That prayer was answered in the most perfect way! Six vehicles were involved in this accident, twelve people suffered minor injuries. Hanging upside down, still strapped in my seat belt, I crawled out of my absolutely destroyed vehicle, through a broken window, was sprayed with battery acid and only managed to obtain a cut on my elbow which would later require three stitches. Still clasped tightly in my right hand was my Rosary…I had never once let go of it! Witnesses rushing to assist me as I stumbled from my vehicle stared incredulously. It didn’t seem that anyone could have survived that crash, let alone walked out of it. It was clear that our Lord had preserved my life and I believe firmly that it was through our Lady’s intercession. The Rosary became a constant companion, and I told everyone, everyone about the miracle of our Lady’s intercession…

It certainly seemed obvious that the Rosary was the prayer our family needed to pray most!

The first time our family prayed the Rosary together was on my 31st birthday. Still a bit shy about my “secret” prayer, I requested the recitation of a family Rosary as my birthday gift. I remember, so clearly, one of my older daughters placing a rosary into the hand of my infant son, Joseph, who was sitting in his swing. It was such a lovely sight, I took a photo…long before I’d ever heard of digital photography! I still have that picture…

And so we began…and thus we’ve continued. That first night was awkward. We stumbled through the words, struggling to find a rhythm, haltingly praying with many stops and starts. The little ones would drift off to sleep, an infant would need to be nursed…and we prayed, weaving a lovely “wreath of roses” for our Lord, using this beautiful, powerful devotion.

Grabbing the rosary has become second nature…a nearly involuntary response in times of joy and crisis. It remains the most efficacious way for this family to call Home to Mother…

Blessings,