Again and again... zeal for our house

The exploits of reckless romance have got nothin’ on the wild adventure of committed marital love.⁣⁣
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Wake up, spouses, to your extraordinary life! Many, who now see their lot as drudgery, once longed for this forever love. They’ve forgotten their zeal for generous outpouring.⁣
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It’s the failed expectations, I think. We think we know the secret to happy marriage and are shocked to find that our elders weren’t lying to us about the challenge of permanence…⁣
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That life is hard. Life is suffering.⁣
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They told us these things as a counterweight to enthusiasm… they didn’t want to get our hopes too high.⁣
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I recall the first time I thought “Good gracious, they were all right” while I instinctively looked for the escape hatch. But when you’re Catholic and married, vows aren’t simply shrugged off as a folly of youth…⁣⁣
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So you cling. But you see families tumble down around you and it’s terrifying when you begin to stumble on your own beloved. And yourself. And the drudgery.⁣⁣
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When did your lover become an irritation rather than a breathtaking reflection of God? And how can that purity of vision be restored?⁣⁣
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Where have we put our passion and why isn’t it what we expected? When did the radical call of 1 Cor. 13 become a placard instead of a flame?⁣
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To become captivated again, we learn that what we expected at the start wasn’t good enough…⁣⁣
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God’s vision is deeper and wider.⁣⁣
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Maybe our expectation was more selfish than sanctified. Maybe we made our beloved an idol and then were disappointed when he turned out not to be God.⁣⁣
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Marriage is a battle. It is a fire. It is a sunset and ocean. It is rapids and cliff diving and wonder… Wrapped up in the tedious nitpicking mundane.⁣⁣
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In these wicked times especially, we must remember how to share beautiful secrets with our spouse again. The special wink. The familiar touch. The ichthus drawn in the sand for each other while the world encroaches… a shared knowing…⁣⁣
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“Beloved, you are extraordinary. And someday we will dance in eternal glory. We can dance tonight in anticipation. But first… the dishes.”⁣⁣
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Blessed be God who makes all things new!
Let us begin again and again and again.

Outpacing Grief

Gaining another daughter in 2022. ❤️ My oldest son asked his sweetheart to marry him and she said yes! Whatever else comes this year, the beautiful things are irrepressible…⁣
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2020 was hard. 2021 was harder. But I have witnessed miracles and goodness which consistently match and then outpace the grief.⁣
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The world remains harsh but the joy settles in deeply. My gratitude to these two youngsters for highlighting that for me again. God moves powerfully among us.⁣
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Also, thank you to all who have prayed for her since her July diagnosis of ovarian cancer. If you would, please continue to pray. There are some battles left to be won.

Creative loving in unusual times

We were blessed yesterday by creative family members who took us to see the Zoo lights. They set up a party station in the parking lot complete with hot chocolate, popcorn, and gifts.⁣
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We have different approaches to the virus in our family, but I am so grateful that there has been no hatred. Those who choose to exercise more caution have energetically pursued ways to connect with and love us.⁣
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There has been disappointment at times. We hope for a return to normal. Two years is too long. But we’ve certainly had more adventures outside! And we are grateful to have been treated as beloved, especially when there is much division and anger among many families.⁣
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We didn’t get a family Christmas picture yet but we still have time. The tree will be up until the season is over. And it will take us at least that long to finish celebrating!⁣
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Merry Christmas, everyone! I know it has been a tough season. Many separations, sickness, loss. I pray that in the midst of it all, you have encountered the Presence and joy of Jesus Christ. Blessed be EMMANUEL!

Rooted Fatherhood

I stood next to the casket of my beloved father-in-law and my knees literally shook with cold and grief. The sorrow on the face of his devoted bride remains etched in my memory.⁣
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Broken. We all felt broken. One of the grandsons articulated the feeling as that of being untethered… unmoored.⁣
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A good man grows roots in the ground and stays put for his family. They tease about his routines, his stubbornness, and his predictable jokes. And while they kid and flourish…⁣
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The roots grow deeper. Solid. Unshakable.⁣
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They know this… a little. Until he is gone and then they KNOW…⁣
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That he has been rooted and they are the branches. They have felt a faint shaking of earthquakes, the heat of fires, and the gusts of strong winds…⁣ but it is the rooted father who digs deeply and secures the family while they grow. He takes the blows, the flames, the deep shakings.⁣
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Every day, his supplications and prayers of thanksgiving rise to the creator. The sun rises and sets. He gets up and does what men do. He toils and he counsels. He kneels and he rests. He battles sin and enemy and elements.⁣
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Rooted.⁣
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I know what my son meant when he said he felt adrift. We are experiencing a bit of vertigo as the roots shift (but remain) beneath us…⁣
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The men seem to feel it uniquely. That they have been loved and raised and held up by a good man, rooted in strength and courage and fidelity. And that they are also made for that greatness.⁣
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There is a quickening of life in the presence of death. World events add to the feeling. That now is not the time for weak men, addicted men, immoral men, or timid men…⁣
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It is time to take root.⁣
Blessed be God forever.⁣
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“Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked,⁣
nor stands in the way of sinners,⁣
nor sits in the seat of scoffers;⁣
but his delight is in the law of the Lord,⁣
and on his law he meditates day and night.⁣
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He is like a tree planted by streams of water,⁣
that yields its fruit in its season,⁣
and its leaf does not wither.⁣
In all that he does, he prospers.”⁣
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Psalm 1:1-3

Don't touch your baby...

She was born in a Catholic hospital before the nuns left. And her story testifies to why it mattered…⁣
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Born weeks early, she ran into trouble. “Code blue” was the last thing I heard before they all rushed out of the room with her.⁣ Every NICU mama knows what the next days looked like. The lights and plastic boxes with babies, charts, and alarms.⁣..
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Once, I touched her back lightly. Her O2 sat dropped, the alarms went off, and I got a harsh lecture from the doctor after they stabilized her…⁣
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“Don’t touch your baby.”⁣
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So I just watched. Every day. And since I couldn’t sleep, I watched her at night as well, rocking in the chair, wishing I could see her face uncovered from tape and tubes.⁣
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About a week into our stay, I was keeping vigil at 3am. Two nurses were at the desk that night though it was usually just one at that hour. I’d never seen them before. We were the only ones there.⁣ They approached me together and said they didn’t usually work there but took every opportunity. “We are Christians and this hospital is a blessed place. We love to be here.”⁣
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They asked if they could pray over my daughter and I said yes. I watched as they put two sets of hands into the isolette and laid them on her back…⁣
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The child who wouldn’t be touched didn’t flinch.⁣
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They praised and glorified God and they prophesied. They spoke of healing and mission. And when they were done, they turned to me…⁣
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“She’s going to be okay.” They explained…⁣
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“God protects this hospital. The sisters will not provide contraception or abortion benefits to staff… and He blesses that.”⁣
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I never saw them again. And the hospital has since passed into secular hands. But this beautiful girl continues to grow in grace. I wish those nurses could see her now.⁣
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Dear Birthday Girl…⁣
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“Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. Do not quench the Spirit, do not despise prophesying…hold fast what is good, abstain from every form of evil.⁣
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May the God of peace himself sanctify you wholly; and may your spirit and soul and body be kept sound and blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” - 1 Thess. 5

Birthdays, liberty, and pot-banging love.

We had our birthday party this weekend! She wanted us to wear our favorite colors. We both received pajamas. And it occurred to me that she seems to be growing younger since being liberated from her extended quarantine.

I have many new friends on social media who don't know Beth. Although the family info I share on social media is limited, I do want you to meet this beautiful woman who suffered so much under Ohio's unlawful, immoral, and cruel lockdowns. She was separated from us for the better part of a year while being cared for by strangers who were free to come and go. A woman already unable to perform the simplest functions for herself... confined to a degree that most lockdown advocates would never accept for themselves.

Those of us who have the unrestricted use of our limbs and voices have an obligation to live energetically for the vulnerable. That's going to look different for all of us, but the obligation still exists.

I can, to a degree, understand those gripped by fear of viruses. But I will never understand championing orders that destroy the minds, bodies, and souls of others so that we can live to die another day.

Every single health order given has contributed to the declining health of individuals and community. I oppose every one of them. They are not designed to increase health but to increase control and teach compliance. And the vulnerable are always the first quiet casualties of tyranny.

We must be free to serve according to the will of God. Not as "woke" people burdened by a shame of “privilege" (a diabolical distortion of the virtues of humility and gratitude)… but with a growing gratitude for His gifts in us which have been bestowed for purpose of service and praise.

It is our duty to develop our responsiveness to this goodness, to cultivate tenderness, and to allow love for others to grow until our fears can no longer hold us back from holy action

Even if we fail, we must try to stop this diabolically blinded race toward the cliff. We must say NEVER AGAIN. Not via lockdowns, face coverings, injections. It is only the radical acceptance of the tender mercy and passionate love of Jesus Christ which can restore us to sanity and health now.

So here I am, banging my pot again. Please join me. And please pray for Beth and all the vulnerable.

She was there before I was

It was a long night. My eyes would pop open, my heart would pound, and I would be painfully aware of my suffering child. I wasn’t with that child… but I knew I was walking some kind of Via Dolorosa with them from afar.

Mom grace is like that sometimes. You just know. Maybe the Holy Spirit wakes you up. Or you just know the signs. Or both.

Anyway, I felt it and grieved as I joined in the struggle. It sounds a bit dramatic, I know… but life IS sometimes dramatic. There is weeping. There is falling to the knees. And in the life of the spirit, the battle for souls is central and fierce.

So, I kept waking. And towards the early morning light, my pious prayers to Blessed Mother became ugly cries of desperation. I asked her to be with my children when I couldn’t be. To hold them. To rescue them.

Consolation came as I saw her in my mind’s eye embracing my beloved child. I was struck by her posture of deep gift. Covering, embracing, enfolding. But even more struck by one realization…

She was there before I was. She, the Spouse of the Holy Spirit, was certainly the one who woke me, not the other way around.

She is the sleepless mother who wakes with her children on her heart.

She never leaves them. And she is closest to them when they are broken and lost. I surrendered my child to her in that moment more completely than I had ever been inclined to before. And I slept.

In the weeks and months that followed, miracles unfolded for my family. And I don’t use the word “miracles” lightly. Mary was at the root of all of them. Not vaguely as in “oh I just know that she answered my prayers” but manifestly.

And with the memory comes courage. There is no soul seeking light which is unattended by her presence. And no soul choosing darkness which isn’t being interceded for with devotion and perseverance. I know this…

Because I am a mother.

She who carried Divinity in her womb has touched Love itself and become perfect mother to all. She will not rest until we are safe or until we have chosen with finality.

Ask her for your miracles. And expect them. They will come in the perfect timing and manner of Jesus Christ at her request.

Carried. 25 years.

CARRIED.⁣
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I give thanks for the passing of years which illuminate what has gone before and how it will be with what is to come.⁣⁣ My conversion was a battle in which I fought. Yet with memory enlightened by grace, I see how I was softly lifted out of the conflict by the tender hands of the Father.⁣⁣
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In a similar manner, my marriage has been a besieged fortress, sometimes from the inside and sometimes without. And yet the marking of 25 years has granted me clarity of vision…⁣⁣
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I have been carried.⁣⁣..
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The heartaches which felt crushing have not crushed me.⁣⁣
The grief that has occasionally laid its pall over me has never buried me.⁣⁣
The losses and the trials have only been allowed to touch me lightly even when I believed that I carried the load.⁣⁣
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25 years has taught me that I have only lived on the surface of the drama of love, held back by the erroneous belief that sacramental graces were only a nice addition to what I would build…⁣⁣
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And discovering that I have been carried all along. Weak as a baby. Dependent on Divine care and the love of a man devoted to the Lord.⁣⁣
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In that greenhouse—which I mistakenly thought to be the wilds—my soul has been cultivated in love. And it is in that context which I have been able to grow stronger for my purpose.⁣⁣
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I am a little girl growing into matriarch. I am this handsome man’s sweetheart becoming rooted as heart in his home.⁣⁣
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I surrender to this mystery.⁣
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Marriage is a lot like birth in that the trial of vulnerability becomes a deep fire of strength. Masculinity is beautiful. Femininity is powerful…⁣⁣
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Yet I will never be a feminist again, because I will not choose to be fragmented from what is whole.⁣⁣
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My husband carries me. Not because I am worth less, but because I am treasure. Even in our brokenness, he carries our pieces to the foot of the cross… and we are renewed.⁣⁣
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In this life, we won’t be perfect or without trials or pain. Never perfect complete unity.⁣⁣ Yet there is unshakable sweetness. The renewal of vows a true refreshment as we reenter the battle. A testimony to grace⁣.⁣
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We walk hand-in-hand but I know the full truth… that I am carried. Thanks be to God.❤️

A wedding, a run, a motu proprio

He was supposed to pose but instead he squished. Pretty typical and wonderful.⁣⁣ Posed shots are great in their own way. But 5-year olds have a way of cutting through to the better things.⁣⁣
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The wedding was this week! Thanks be to God! Those of you with big families can appreciate the unique position of being mother-of-the-groom and also mother-of-the-kid who “needs to go to the bathroom” during the marriage vows.⁣⁣
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And while we wait for the professional photos, I’m enjoying what people are sharing from their camera rolls. Lots of squishing and laughing.⁣⁣
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Couple of unrelated updates:⁣⁣
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• The Rise Up & Run t-shirts were significantly delayed due to the printer’s “internal error.” Good thing it’s a virtual run! Some of you will be getting your packets later than the run date.⁣⁣ It’s out of my hands and I’ve struggled with frustration. But I’m surrendering and grateful for an understanding community.⁣⁣
⁣⁣• My family has decided to delay our local run gathering to next week because of schedule and energy conflicts. (ie busy and tired) Recognizing limits and rolling with needs.⁣⁣
⁣⁣• I continue praying for all of your run intentions.⁣⁣
⁣⁣• Definitely feeling like I won’t be running a very strong race this year. I will give it my best and continue to offer all for your race intentions. We had a wonderful time last year regardless of our fitness levels and abilities. Looking forward to the exercise in surrender and humility again! 😉⁣
⁣⁣• I may have extra race packets available. Some of you inquired. I will let you know soon!⁣⁣
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Unrelated update for those who have asked my thoughts on what came out of Rome this week…⁣⁣
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• The motu proprio came out the day of the wedding so I was blissfully ignorant until the next day. A good reminder that I can’t control any of it.⁣⁣
⁣⁣• A great kick in the pants to get holy and keep lamps lighted.⁣⁣
⁣⁣• This papacy has courted anti-life global Marxists for years and caused much scandal and hardship for the flock. This is consistent. Carry on, Church Militant. Carry on.

The crucible of marriage.

When I was on FB, I belonged to two Catholic mom groups. A woman posted a question to both groups:⁣
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“I’ve been talking to my Catholic mom friends about marriage. We don’t know anyone in happy marriages, including our own. Is there any happiness left?”⁣
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In one group, the responses were dismally consistent. Comments echoed the perspective of the woman.⁣
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In the second group—smaller and designed to provide a generationally diverse mentoring community—the responses were more varied:⁣
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“Yes. I am happily married. Marriage is harder than I ever imagined actually. But deeply satisfying and only getting better.”⁣
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I was one of those who answered YES. But I see the reality of the brokenness around me and I feel in my own marriage the onslaught of the world and our own sinfulness.⁣
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Is my marriage happy and healthy? Yes.⁣
Besieged? Yes.⁣
Shaken? Yes.⁣
Exhausted? Yes.⁣
Are we sometimes afraid? Yes.⁣
Grieving? Yes.⁣
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Marriage is our crucible where we are transformed by the heat of holy fire.⁣
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In 2 weeks, the Chief and I will celebrate 25 years of marriage. Our 8 children will attend our renewal of vows. We will stand in all our weakness and vulnerability in the heart of our little community.⁣ They have seen us at our worst and best and so we testify before them. Standing in gratitude and as a sign of hope. A sign of what is possible by the grace of God.⁣
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Every year, my husband stands against the backdrop of a fiery Independence Day scene that he oversees. The mortars are lined up and fired. His shape is obscured in the darkness... until there is an explosion.⁣
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His back is to me as he faces the fire. He grows taller. Vulnerable... yet strangely unshakable.⁣
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My heart swells with admiration, and gratitude. And I think "That is the way of things. It is the fire which illuminates and strengthens."⁣
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We are a messy family. Many of you are suffering through the crucible of your own marriages. Perhaps divorced like my own parents were. Or battling all the forces of hell...
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Don't fear the fire. It is there that you will encounter the pressures that you need to become forged for sainthood. Rise and pray. Dare to sing. Dawn is coming.

It's not my job...

We can pass on the faith but we can’t force a child to receive it. They have to develop that relationship with Jesus and personally embrace and love His Word.⁣⁣
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Otherwise, all those hours of family adoration are just one-sided and our tallest kids might be approaching the Eucharistic table unworthily, with hardened hearts and a growing antagonism toward the things of God.⁣⁣
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We don’t know what is going on in their hearts.⁣⁣
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I have spent years pondering the secret to really passing on the faith; to presenting it in such a way that it is more inviting than all the attractions of the world...⁣⁣
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Personal prayer is essential but it must be accompanied by heroic actions that allow Christ to work strongly within a family and keep the lures of the world at bay. My motherhood demands sanctity. My vocation is made for it...⁣⁣
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And as we know, the saints had to battle the world, many of them only achieving popularity in the hearts of the Catholic faithful well after their deaths. We need to reconcile ourselves to that. To being in the equivalent of the social media dustbin for the sake of souls.⁣⁣
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It is not my job to mold my children into saints. It is my job to give them every opportunity, motivation and protection to allow them to say yes to Jesus. Then He is the one who will make them saints.⁣⁣
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Read the whole article HERE. Some hard truths, encouragements, and practical tips for parenting Catholic teens.⁣⁣
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I originally wrote the article in 2019 and it brought some heavy attacks from Catholic parents at the time. Before posting today, I reread it with fresh and critical eyes. Not only do I stand by every word, but if I rewrote it, I would strengthen the language.

Besieged. Also in June...

Someone asked me if everything is okay. I’ve been away more than usual and they wanted to make sure I was well. I’m doing well, thank you!⁣
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Though a bit besieged. I feel like “besieged” is my usurper 2021 word. My word of the year is actually TIRELESSNESS. So it all makes sense, I guess.⁣
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In June, my autoimmune issues flared up until my eyelids cracked. That was unpleasant.⁣
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In June, I also fell lower mentally than I have in a while. The heliotrope rash reminded me that I talk a big game until disease pokes my vanity. And steals my ability to stand in the sunshine. So…⁣
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My husband stayed close while I worked up the nerve to start again. My will was buried under a few tears and I felt like giving up.⁣
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Just for a little while. Then I dusted myself off and began. After prayer, the first thing I did was to renew my organic veggie delivery service. (Link in my profile if you want a coupon!)⁣
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In June, I went back to basics. Broke attachments. Pushed back against preferences in order to find freedom.⁣
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In June, I went from despair to delight as I played sand volleyball (in direct sun) with more flexibility and mobility than I’ve had in years. Just 3 weeks after wondering if my summer was over.⁣
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In June, I continued to prepare for a wedding. And watched my family grow and stretch and struggle and dream.⁣
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In June, I tried on dresses in a department store where no one wore a mask. My husband told me I was beautiful.⁣
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In June, I fell behind in everything. Everything… except for eating vegetables and making time for my husband. I still have messages unanswered and prayers unsaid. I failed and failed and failed again.⁣
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But June was beautiful and July is coming. And tomorrow is another day to live and give thanks to God for who He is and what He has given.⁣
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I expect to go through the cycle of grief and stretching countless times before I die. Each round hopefully bringing me closer to heaven with God’s grace.⁣
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June’s lesson: “Survival mode” is real. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be holy and beautiful. Put some flowers in a vase, hug your people, say your prayers, and don’t forget the vegetables ❤️

Homeless until heaven.

This is my daughter. I’m going to ramble a bit and then tell you more about her adventure…⁣
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Just when you think that you can’t possibly handle any more heart stretching, the good Lord allows more.⁣
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Rending, stretching, breaking, shattering… filling, saturating, expanding, illuminating.⁣
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There’s been a lot going here in the last year or so. So much that I have sometimes been left like a fish gasping on the shore… flopping around wondering how I ended up so out of my element… and when God would let me back in the water.⁣
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Well, I’m a fish learning to breathe air. And a woman learning to inhale under water. And the hope and joy of Jesus Christ overpowers everything in His time.⁣
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Back to the beautiful young woman in the photo…⁣
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My oldest daughter will be leaving home to serve as a missionary to the homeless for a year with @urbanencounterministries.⁣ She’ll be leaving in a month or so, shortly after her brother is married. And I thought I was getting used to departures but I guess I’m not that hardened yet. Maybe I don’t want to be anyway.⁣
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At any rate, I love her, I’m proud of her, I’ll miss her. And if you are interested in sponsoring her work financially, she could use that kind of support as well.⁣
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I think her work might be a little like mine. Both in the wilds of the human condition, trying to figure out how to extend the Gospel of Jesus Christ… without any promise of knowing how that seed will blossom.⁣
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Different but united. We will breathe under water in different cities and marvel at the simplicity of the Word and the aching of the sojourner.⁣
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Homeless until heaven. Following the steps of Jesus, our homeless King who awaits us with His Divine permanence.⁣
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Thank you @shesaidfiat for your radical yes to Christ. That beautiful gift will always console me when I am missing you. ❤️⁣

Because I can...

It’s been a long time since my family has played ball together. Quarantine stole a season and then some. Very grateful to be able to take this selfie.⁣
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I’m stronger than I was last time I tentatively stepped out onto the court. In spite of a recent flare. In spite of residual fatigue.⁣
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“I’m still getting younger!” I said to my kid. And he was (wisely) silent because I’m clearly aging.⁣
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But I ran across the gym and it didn’t hurt. And I thought (not for the first or last time) that I’m glad that I’ve been free to manage my own health care. And to make choices along the way to step into or stay out of the system.⁣
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There’s a massive new building being constructed at a city hospital right now. We pass it every week and I’m amazed that we have enough people and needs to fill it.⁣
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What is health care? Is it different than sick care? Are we better off now than when the buildings were smaller and the resources scarcer?⁣
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The statistics say no. Cancer rates are still high. Overall lifespan is decreasing. Autoimmune disease has reached epidemic proportions. Heart disease, diabetes... it just goes on and on.⁣
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This is not a doom and gloom post. Just a “what the heck are we doing?” post. And a “Thank you, Jesus!” post.⁣ I will certainly die of something sooner or later. But I owe my life to God...⁣
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And every action I take toward honoring His design for my body is a gift given back to Him. I do not worship the body but I care for it reasonably. So that I may serve according to His will.⁣
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After we left the gym I was exhausted and sore. Where are you endorphins?! Taking a hiatus this week and it’s fine. But the gratitude I feel is tremendous and I am eager to go back.⁣
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Because I can. And I know what it’s like to say “I can’t.”⁣
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I don’t want to spend my life counting diagnosis. I want to spend it living. And while visits to shiny medical offices may sometime be necessary, the vast majority of healing happens at home. In the gym. In the woods. In the kitchen. On the couch. On the track. In church. In prayer. With my family.⁣
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I’m so darn tired this week. Flares are a drag. Starting again. Always. And always reorienting back to gratitude. Deo Gratias ❤️

Hold the line, men.

A study of siblings. When Miss Sassy and Z strike a pose, they are not the same. Hilarious.⁣
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I have been reading about the early Church and apostles and this pic made me think of the 12 and all their messy zeal. They surely smelled more like fish and woodsmoke than incense.⁣
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I've also noticed a recent increase in prayer requests from those whose husbands are struggling with their faith.⁣
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Times are difficult. On top of scandals, we now have the 2020 abandonment by spiritual fathers. New divisions and wounds, questions and pressure. Good men are struggling.⁣
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As I contemplate the apostles as real men (truly my brothers and fathers in faith), I sometimes imagine them walking into the room just as my husband would. Sandals scuffing. Water running over rough hands.⁣
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Real men. Not storybook characters. Their hands made fires, built shelters, and were bound by enemies. Their mouths proclaimed the Word. Their eyes fell upon the Messiah. Their hearts knew both fear, courage, grief, and joy.⁣
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It makes me think of the men of my own domestic church...⁣
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Of calluses and axes, debates and wrestling matches, night prayer, service at the altar, meal time, division and reunion.⁣
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These thoughts help me to connect with the Church when heartache sets me adrift. Every time I hear about another McCarrick, I also hear the words of my brother, Paul...⁣
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"I am astonished that you are so quickly deserting the one who called you to live in the grace of Christ and are turning to a different gospel...Evidently some people are throwing you into confusion and are trying to pervert the gospel of Christ. But even if we or an angel from heaven should preach a gospel other than the one we preached to you, let them be under God’s curse!" Gal. 1⁣
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What is foul and false walks among what is holy. I pray that our men will be steadfast in holding the line against that evil, and will be restored to fidelity and clarity...⁣
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We need you, gentleman. The enemy is in the gates. Stand strong for Christ.

Five.

When you are 5 years old, have been counting down the days until you can blow out your birthday candles, and it’s finally time...⁣
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You don’t just blow out your candles, you attack them.⁣
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He wanted a volcano cake and legos. Nailed it. Thank God for the beautiful (and sometimes wild) simplicity of the single digit years.⁣
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Happy birthday week, little Z. May God direct your passion always for His glory. 🔥⁣
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Easy volcano cake:⁣
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• Four boxes of GF brownie mix (we had a crowd to feed)⁣
• Melted chocolate⁣
• Leftover edible glitter from Confirmation cake (see previous post with the flame cake)⁣
• 5 gold candles found in the back of the kitchen drawer⁣
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Bake the brownies. Plop them onto a plate. Drizzle. Sprinkle. Done!

Your daughter might need this...

The following is an excerpt from a larger article found HERE. I write a lot of stuff. Some is more important than others... more urgent. This is one of the most important I’ve written because if someone is open to the words, it could help save a life or a soul:⁣
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“DEAR MOMS OF GIRLS...⁣
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We've been around the block a few times. We know things that our girls don't know. But our girls haven't lived in our shoes, haven't learned our lessons, and haven't undergone our conversions....⁣
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We cannot assume that they are equipped to weather the storms we are accustomed to withstanding.⁣
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We cannot assume that when they nod their heads in agreement with our maternal rants that they actually have a deep enough grasp of the truth or an unwavering relationship with Jesus Christ.⁣
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We can’t assume that their attachment to us is stronger than their attachment to someone else.⁣
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We have to be willing to go to the mat for them; to make ourselves a righteous nuisance about technology, defensive protocols, and constant instruction in the art of navigating the human condition.⁣
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I'm not going to sugarcoat this. Some of you think your girl is okay... and she's not.⁣
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God didn't allow me to wade through the sewage in my own life only to stay silent and watch other hearts, minds, and bodies assaulted by wickedness. Here is your warning and I give it with all the sisterly and motherly love in my feminine heart:⁣
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Evil hardly ever comes looking like a monster... but usually appearing like the deepest desires of our heart. We have to be prepared.⁣
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Evil slips through the cracks through our weaknesses and our pride. It finds our sorrows and our loneliness. It listens to our doubts and becomes the consolation and affirmation that we deeply desire.⁣”
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Dear Moms of boys...⁣
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This is for you, too. Let’s raise them right, interfere with them when they stray, oppose predatory behaviors in them, and...⁣
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Learn to recognize the patterns of abuse against them as well.⁣
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Break the silence. Restore the culture. Protect each other.⁣

Read the full article HERE. I recommend reading it with your daughter and sons and discussing together.

What Confirmation is... and what it is not.

I have never been more excited about the upcoming feast of Pentacost. The recent Confirmation of my beautiful daughter added fuel to that fire of desire. Such a simple rite… with so much power.⁣
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It has long been my hope that our diocese would lower the age of Confirmation. Many erroneously think of the sacrament as a “rite of passage” to mature faith. The passing of a test.⁣
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That is all wrong.⁣
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The gift of the Holy Spirit is unmerited and ageless. It can be given to an infant or the elderly. It does not testify to the belief of the individual as much as to the truth of the faith and the power of the Spirit.⁣
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From the Rite of Confirmation:⁣
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“This giving of the Holy Spirit conforms believers more perfectly to Christ and strengthens them so that they may bear witness to Christ for the building up of his body of faith and love.”⁣
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In this culture, when young children are exposed to porn, unbridled secularism, hatred of Christ, and to evil presenting itself like every happiness…⁣
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I hope that more children can receive this unmerited gift of God prior to the loss of faith.⁣
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In the Catechism, St. Thomas is quoted:⁣

“Age of body does not determine age of soul. Even in childhood man can attain spiritual maturity… Many children, through the strength of the Holy Spirit they have received, have bravely fought for Christ even to the shedding of their blood.” ⁣

Confirmation has sometimes jokingly been referred to as “the sacrament of farewell” as teens are already closed off to the graces and leave the Church shortly after…⁣
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What can we do to change this? Especially now in this secular age of growing persecution?⁣
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Parents and sponsors… now is the time to invite the Holy Spirit into our lives with a bold and desperate faith. It is time to pray the scary prayers. The ones that open us to living fully in imitation in Christ and change everything.⁣
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On the birthday of Pope St. John Paul II, it is fitting to say…

“Be not afraid! Come, Holy Spirit, Come!” 🔥

Making Mistakes. Lighting fires.

It hardly ever happens to me as a creative that I have a vision for something and it works out concretely. My problem is that I am usually not proficient in the medium I choose to adventure with. For example...⁣
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Edibles confound me.⁣
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However, I call this attempt a success. Super fun. Lots of mistakes. But the overall effect was just as imagined.⁣
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Full disclosure... This is not a healthy cake. Not at all. 😁⁣
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I blogged about what I used along with some other Confirmation/Pentecost ideas. Go to my profile link to see more.⁣
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It is the lightest post I have written in a long time... and that was kind of nice for a change.⁣
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I’m feeling a little tired in mind and spirit and this diversion was needed. Working creatively on a project is, for me, a lot like exercising. It is a fruitful respite. I can work in a focused way with great effort... but it is uncomplicated. The resting is in the effort.⁣
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The Confirmation itself was wonderful. I can’t wait for Pentecost!⁣
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Also, Instagram isn’t going to direct you to a government organization in a flag on this post. And that’s a bit of a respite as well.⁣
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My stories this week prompted hundreds of dm’s. It was good to hear from so many of you. You really aren’t alone. There was some negativity but most was constructive with very little real ugliness. But the Confirmation post is a relief today. It certainly is.⁣
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Come, Holy Spirit. Heal Your people. Restore us to life. Fill us with your joy. 🔥

Confirmation prep...

My daughter was Confirmed this weekend and the last cookie has been eaten. I’m going to share more soon but wanted to post my cookie recipe for inquiring minds who saw the teaser in my stories.⁣
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I blogged some details of Confirmation prep and the recipe is on there. If you need ideas for Confirmation or Pentecost, perhaps you’ll find something there. The link in HERE.
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My version uses gluten free all-purpose but you can easily sub regular flour. Neither version is healthy. 😉⁣
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Neither is the cake. But it turned out pretty well. If you want to see it before I post here, that’s on the blog as well. It’s the first cake I’ve ever made which turned out exactly like I envisioned. 🔥⁣
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Incidentally, it’s been a while since I’ve lifestyle blogged old style. I forgot how much work it is and now recall exactly why social media micro-blogging has taken over!⁣
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Worth it though. Felt a bit like home.