The End

No, not of this blog but of so many other things……
     

This time of year brings so many endings.  The end of the school year, of course, but other endings too.  This year, it all seems so much more significant than in the past.  

A few weeks ago, Tim ended his two year program for his Master’s degree!  On June 1^st he will graduate with his MBA.  This is one end I am thrilled with.  I am very proud of my husband for his hard work and dedication.  He earned his degree and kept his GPA above 3.5 all while balancing two jobs and a family as well.  

My oldest daughter is ending her last year of school before entering high school.  In my education, having gone to public school, there was no such thing as 8^th grade graduation.  I learned from my Catholic school friends though that this is a pretty huge deal in some circles.  We will not be celebrating my daughter’s 8^th grade graduation as a big milestone but my heart is painfully aware that it is a milestone, one which marks her rapidly dwindling childhood.  It means, of course, that there are only 4 more years until she sets off for college, leaving my little nest for the big, bad world.   I’m not ready for that yet, and I suspect, I won’t be in 4 short years either…..

And speaking of four years that have flown by incredibly quickly--Tonight is the end of my reign as Little Flowers leader.  We will have our last end-of-the-year tea party.  We have finished up the last of our 4 “wreathes”.  I’m sad about this ending too, as I will miss the fun of the meetings with the wonderful little girls I’ve come to love.   At the same time, I know life is getting busier and I would not have the same time or energy to devote to it next year.  I recognize that the timing is perfect since I need to free up a little more of my schedule for other endeavors.  Still, I don’t like “good byes”.

Wait, there’s more….My son quit boy scouts.  Maybe the timing is perfect for that too.  If the proposed changes go into effect, we were probably going to remove him from the organization anyway.  But on his own (and ignorant of the possible changes in policy) he decided he was done.  He just wasn’t enjoying it anymore.  

And then……We are discerning an end to our involvement in our amateur movie-making group.    The co-op we’ve been doing all year with three other families is almost over and we will not be continuing next year.  My “baby” will start pre-school next year so I feel like her babyhood is officially ending now (though at almost 4 years old she hasn’t really been a baby for a loooong time).  

The good news in all this though?  Summer is just about to BEGIN!  And that means almost three months of relaxation and family fun before I really have to face all the changes most of these ends will bring…..

How can I call myself a writer?

I love to think of myself as a writer.  I love to call myself a writer and identify myself with other writers.  

I love the sound of words as they flit around in my mind, joining together in ways that conjure up feelings in me until I know I’ve hit on a great story idea.  I love that once I have a great story idea, the words and story just pour forth and connect themselves on a deeper level until characters are created and settings are formed.  I love plots with thick complicated conflicts and twisting long-winded resolutions.  

But, sometimes my mind is dry.  There are no words coming together to make anything worthwhile.  Sometimes, I lack any inspiration or creativity at all.  Other writers seem to always be able to come up with something.  Other writers write everyday- without fail.  I admire those writers.  I can't help but want to be more like them.

But me?  I suffer from writer’s block quite often.  Some days, I want to write but I'm just unable.  Then other days, I don't really even feel like writing at all.  I am content to shut down that part of myself and focus on just being a mom sometimes.  So, how can I really call myself a writer?  

Maybe I should be honest and admit that what I really am is just a mom who sometimes writes.   

It is not such a bad thing to be, really.  I love being a mom even more than I love being a writer.  I do wish I could come up with unending creativity and fabulous stories every day of the week but when I can’t-- I guess, I really am still okay.  I have my children to care for, to play with, to focus on, to shower with love and attention.

Maybe my writer’s block days are really a gift.  A chance to take a break from trying to be too much and an opportunity to find contentment in my most important role….  

So, on second thought…. I love to think of myself as a mom who writes.  I love to call myself a mom who writes and identify myself with other moms and writers…..

Silence is golden

   

         I’m not quiet very often.  I talk a lot (and very quickly, or so I’ve been told).  In fact, I think the only times I’m any good at keeping my mouth shut and my thoughts to myself are when I meet someone new and my innate shyness creeps in or when I have some sort of illness that prevents me from speaking.

            This week, I am experiencing the latter and for 2 days I’ve had to really decide what words are worth enduring physical pain to utter.  It doesn’t happen very often but when it does, it’s always such an intriguing experience to be virtually speechless.  It can be frustrating, for sure, to be incapable of communicating my thoughts and feelings very easily but it can also be an amazing opportunity to really identify and understand my own thoughts.  And never do I listen and observe more, than when my mouth is closed and my voice silenced.

            Whether it’s from the overwhelming social inadequacy that comes with my bouts of shyness (which are much less frequent in adulthood than they were in childhood) or from the physical inability to speak due to laryngitis, a bad sore throat, or the painful recovery from extensive dental work (like I’m experiencing this week)- the lessons that come with silence speak loudly and profoundly in my life.

When my voice is stilled, my mind is usually more at peace too.  When I don’t (or can’t) rush to speak my own mind, I see and hear so much more of what’s going on around me and what’s going on in the minds of others.

Silence, I think, is the easiest path to humility but perhaps is the hardest one to take.  It’s so much easier to allow every thoughts and idea to spill forth from my mouth as soon as they formulate in my mind- sometimes before.  Incidentally, silence has never gotten me into trouble that I can remember, but speaking my mind, especially with little to no forethought, has caused more strife in my life than I care to admit.

It’s crazy, really, considering how much I usually like to talk, but I'm sort of enjoying this little reprieve from hearing my own voice.  It’s giving me a great chance to hear and, strangely enough, to see others much more clearly.  And it’s giving me a chance to see and be aware of my own thoughts better too.  

Silence is golden and with it comes not only greater peace and humility but, I think, greater understanding and wisdom as well.  Still, when my mouth is feeling better- there really is so much I’m anxious to say…….

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Honoring Our Mother

Is there a more beautiful month than May?  May brings us warm summer breezes, bright yellow sunshine, flowers blossoming all around, and Mother’s Day, the celebration which honors all mothers.  May is a month in which the world is simply swathed in God’s glory.  

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Making summer plans?

Summer is coming.  I am seeing in increasing number, ideas for fun summer activities to do with children.  The blogs I read and the Pinterest boards I follow are filling up with great suggestions.  Since our thoughts seem to naturally turn to summer plans at this time of year, I thought I’d chime in with a great idea of my own….

So you can find here an amazing resource for summer- or anytime- fun!

A little of this and a little of that....

So much to write about...so little time.....

My Little Flowers group and I finished up our fourth wreath and our fourth year of meeting together this week.  I have been so privileged to watch 6 very beautiful little girls grow in their faith and in their understanding of virtue.  They have each touched me and taught me over the years and I can't help but be a little sad that we are all finished with the program now.  The girls still seem very interested in continuing to meet together and learn together, so hopefully we will find a new direction to go in next year.  Maybe the Little Women Hospitality group or the Catholic Daughters of America Junior Court.....

It was "take your sons and daughters to work" day yesterday.  I have mixed feelings about this relatively new tradition in America because I suspect it has its roots in the feminist movement, but Tim's office was participating.  Our three oldest children were old enough to go and be part of the well planned programs the company had put together, so off they went to work with Daddy.  They had a great time learning about what Tim does all day and the little ones and I enjoyed  a quiet day of visiting the park and reading stories together (as well as getting some things done around the house).

My birthday was this past week.  Another year is gone.  I am another year older.  I'm not sure how I feel about the mounting number attached to this milestone but I do so enjoy being spoiled by my family and friends.  I am very, very blessed to have so much love in my life and my birthday is always a beautiful reminder of that.

Tomorrow my youngest son makes his First Holy Communion.  He is SO excited.  I am too.  I love the enthusiasm of his youthful yet devout faith.  His is definitely a great example of the faith of little children and the idea of allowing the little ones to lead us.  My son is full of joy and faith and innocence.  There is something indescribably special about experiencing the Sacraments of Initiation through our children's eyes and watching them grow closer to Christ.....  how can we not be led closer ourselves?

We are busy, busy, busy but God is SO, SO, SO good working in it all......  

The Season of Easter

On Easter, at my parish, the statue of the crucified Christ is removed from the huge cross that hangs behind the altar. In place of Jesus’ broken, bleeding body, a large wreath of yellow and white flowers and a sash of clean white fabric hang from the rough wood of the cross.

“Where is Jesus?” a little boy asked me last night as he waited outside the Confessional for his First Sacrament of Reconciliation.


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