Category Archives: Change

The Summer of Collected Memories

23 Wednesday Sep 2020

Posted by in Acceptance, Blessings, Change, Coronavirus, COVID-19, Family life, Inspiration, Intentional Living, Memories, Motherhood, Parenting, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Perspective, Rest, Seasons, Simple Living, Simplicity, Stress & Anxiety, Thankfulness, Travel

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , ,

“Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer’s day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.” – John Lubbock

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/32939-rest-is-not-idleness-and-to-lie-sometimes-on-the

Facing a litany of summer let downs due to COVID-19, I became insistent my family, in our conscious efforts to slow down, mask up, and stay home, would still have a long list of positive memories. Oversimplified and less monumental than summers prior, it was imperative we gathered a collection of sweet, tangible experiences of our own to hold and enjoy. But, first, we would allow ourselves the space to mourn our personal disappointments: the canceled annual vacation, refunded summer camps, no pool days, declining offers to gather, not visiting loved ones with vulnerable health conditions, avoiding crowds and community, only attending virtual mass, and sorrowfully missing our friends and family. Then, we would rest and appreciate the slowness, embrace this time of stillness and isolation, and despite the litany of mourned losses, we would find a way to make the best of it—together. Although, at the beginning of this summer experiment I had rampant doubts about how we would pull it off, I believe we exceeded our goal and succeeded in our efforts to “discover joy amid the pain.”

Once virtual schooling came to a halt, my husband and I scoured Airbnb for in-state cottages and cabins to our liking, in our modest price range, and declared 2020 would be the season of locating the quaint and hidden gems nearby. The fruits of this idea did not disappoint. Intentionally, we spaced our bookings apart so we would have one adventure to look forward to every month of the summer. We filled in the downtime with ease by including treks to local parks, camping in our yard, gathering for family game nights, and letting the days unfold on their own. The choice to have a combination of planned getaways and unscheduled stretches of time spent at home attributed to a quite happy and wholesome break. By allowing ourselves the occasion to branch out toward sections of the state we’ve not visited before, and returning to the areas we favor, we discovered newfound delight in local exploration and realized ourselves more in awe of our awesome state and enamored with the town we live in.

Another unexpected advantage to the pandemic summer was the making of an outdoor retreat tucked away in the woods on the property where my husband grew up. Frequently when visiting my father-in-law, we’ve walked the area together—especially in the winter months when the overgrowth has fallen and our boots can crunch atop the frozen earth. The freedom we found this summer allowed my husband and children to embark on a project together, and they set about clearing out a more direct path from the house to the forest, lining the grassy lane with bits of wood and rock, and making the connection between the house and back property a more delightful experience for everyone involved. Now the children can roam and run free between the yard and faraway wood without the distress of thorny entanglements or fear of getting lost. The joy in carving out this special place has allowed us to share with our kids the type of summer fun we fondly remember having—hot summer days spent in outdoor intrigue, hours gone investigating the natural world, making outdoor revelations on our own, and finding a piece of oneself that can only be uncovered under the shade of a tree, breathing in the fresh air, one’s skin soaking up some Vitamin D. The chance to gift a piece of our past to our kids, to allow them to encounter for themselves the unhinged joys of a simplified and rural encounter, was an unexpected blessing of the summer—a highlight all of us agree upon.

Creating this hidden world for our family to treasure was also an opportunity for peaceful reclamation. Shielded from the cacophony of worldly anxieties, the forest cover has comforted and cocooned us as we dealt with the stressors surrounding and threatening us on a daily basis. Within the personalized hollow, we could forget it all for a little while. We hung up our hammocks between the trees as our Boy Scout practiced and refined his outdoor skills, our youngest daughter worked to identify plants and wildflowers and took polaroid pictures of whatever drew her eyes into focus, and our youngest son walked the length of logs, climbed atop piles of dirt and debris, and gathered sticks and rocks. Nearby, my husband delighted in working to improve the nature-given space, and I indulged in a new novel, read between the camp chair and a hammock, and wrote in my journal. We lit fires and ordered pizza for dinner, looked up at the sky and marveled at the blue, and listened to the symphony of sounds of rural Ohio as we bathed under the light filtering through the trees above us.

A few weeks ago, my kids donned masks on their faces and strapped backpacks to their bodies, climbed the stairs into their school bus and chose seats near one another, then waved good-bye to my husband and me as they drove off to the start of a new school year. I see a difference in each one of them and it’s not just their sun-kissed cheeks and golden highlights, not just the inches and pounds added to their frames, not just the new shoes and crisp uniforms. I believe the difference is apparent because they’re shining from the sound interconnectedness between them, made stronger from the calmness and maturity they’ve gained, are restored by the ability to be resolute and resilient in anxious times, and fully renewed from having spent a season seeking joy in the minuscule moments of life.

A new time has emerged now, and I’m looking forward to what discoveries await us in the autumnal season. I know there will be more silver linings to weave into our familial story, sweet memories to create together, and small, not insignificant, moments to cherish. As 2020 comes to a close—thankfully so—I’ll spend the next few months measuring the milestones, maintaining the closeness, and continuing to make the best of this unprecedented time by demonstrating to my kids how gratitude is possible even on the worst days and remaining intentional about reminding them: all we have is today. So, let’s live it well, while we can.

We have grown dull toward this world in which we live; we have forgotten that it is not normal or scientific in any sense of the word. It is fantastic. It is a fairy tale through and through. Elephants? Caterpillars? Snow? At what point did you lose your wonder of it all? – John Eldredge

https://www.outofstress.com/finding-joy-simple-things-quotes/

In Search of Silver Linings During the COVID-19 Pandemic

25 Wednesday Mar 2020

Posted by in Acceptance, Blessings, Change, Coronavirus, COVID-19, Family life, Motherhood, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Rest, Seasons, Simple Living, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days, Truth of Heart

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“How many times have you noticed that it’s the little quiet moments in the midst of life that seem to give the rest extra-special meaning?” ― Fred Rogers

 

I live in Ohio and where Governor DeWine and Dr. Amy Acton have mandated a stay-at-home order to ensure that we are all doing our part in taking the social distancing seriously, working together to flatten out the curve and lessen the spread of the Coronavirus. These are uncertain, strange, anxiety-inducing, incredible times we are living in. Each and every one of you must be feeling your own wave of emotions with each passing day. It has been overwhelming, to say the least, that we’ve had to simultaneously just stop life and automatically become something or someone we never imagined or intended to be. We’ve been asked to jump on board without little preparation to turn rooms of our homes into make-shift offices and multi-leveled classrooms, have lost income and precious resources, and halted our livelihoods and meaningful recreation. Our stability and emotional composure feels wobbly and uncertain, at best. We’re all in this together, we are. I have hope that we will get through this, and that the drastic measures put into place will get us through the worst of it and save as many lives as possible.

Last week, my children had their first week of online learning. Their schools are honoring spring break this week, as planned. On Monday, we will start up once again for virtual schooling, until we receive the okay to return to their dearly missed school buildings, classrooms, teachers, and friends. Who knows how much longer this quarantine will remain in place? If I had a hunch, this will be the new norm for the foreseeable future.

On Monday, I felt long lulls of boredom and a few moments of anger, exasperation, sadness, and stress. Today, I’m feeling better. After sleeping in a bit, then finishing my morning reading, I realized that I’ve been in serious, get-things-done mode, cleaning a bit obsessively, putting my family first, and resorting to neglecting myself. Other than sticking to my daily walks, everything I have been focused on has been related to the upkeep and re-organization of our home, schooling, the health and well-being of my loved ones near and far—all without a break or alone time built-in for myself. So, as I’ve set a loose schedule for my kids, I’ve also set a loose schedule for myself, one where I am prioritizing well-being over doing.

One of my best friends asked me yesterday about my “silver linings” in all of this craziness. To be honest, there has been an abundance of good despite the hardships that have arisen because of the many, great changes. These small glimmers of hope are sustaining me through the tough, isolating moments. When I witness, first-hand, the resiliency of all my children and their good-nature despite cancelled plans and missing their beloved friends, classmates, teachers, and schools, it sets hope straight out in the forefront, and a newfound awareness that my kids will be alright, they’ve got this, they’re going to be better for having gone through it all together. When I can literally see my husband work so diligently at supporting his family, it causes a surge of love and appreciation, gratitude and relief within me. When all of us can join together around the table for meals without anywhere to go, except to the cabinet for another board game or card game once we’ve finished our meal, our family bond is fusing together stronger and happier than ever before. When my kids automatically run for great lengths once we reach the path paved along the perimeter of the neighborhood we live in, I see the natural runners they were born to be. Phone calls and texts to loved ones are on the increase. Letters and cards are being sent and received. Creativity and stress-relief are soaring. Out in nature multiple times a day, our bodies are healthier and leaner. Sleep comes more easily, and as I arise each new morning it feels like a blessed miracle; an ever-precious phenomena.

If you are reading this, then my hope for you is that you are able to seek out your own silver linings and threads of welcome joy, and feel peace during these uncertain times.

 

“We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy.” – Joseph Campbell

Encouragement in These Uncertain Times

16 Monday Mar 2020

Posted by in Acceptance, Change, Coronavirus, Family life, Lent, Motherhood, Parenting, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Seasons, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Tough days

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“I plead with you—never, ever give up on hope, never doubt, never tire, and never become discouraged. Be not afraid.”

― Saint Pope John Paul II, Pope John Paul II: In My Own Words

 

The rapid spread of the Coronavirus is a pertinent reminder to all of us just how quickly life can change in a blink of an eye. Collectively, we have been affected in a myriad of significant ways as our lives, plans, and security seem to be in a downward spiral and we are required to adapt at lightning-flash speed to the newly formed policies and procedures. I’m praying that the fluctuations enacted in your personal lives, places of employment, educational settings, and where you call home will soon lessen in their level of overwhelm; that you can find peace in the peril; and, especially, that your families, children, loved ones, neighbors, and friends are all protected, remain healthy, provided for, and stay safe. This is a tough time, but not impossible to get through.

Yesterday, my family and I watched mass from the comfort of our office/sitting room. At the last minute, our parish priests put it together so that our congregation and beyond could still participate in 9:00 AM mass when it wasn’t possible to be physically present. This was such a blessing, and I know so many other parishes are enacting similarly televised masses and services. In his comforting homily, our pastor reiterated: “prudence, not panic.” In full-disclosure, my anxiety has risen with the crest of this virus, and my tears have abundantly flowed with the crash of each new wave of change and regulation. However, my pastor’s calming mantra is aiding in my ability to keep steady.

It all feels scary and epic, doesn’t it? With the threat of illness always there, looming like a dark shadow hanging over us like a cloud of doom, it’s difficult to remain in the present, in good spirits, able to count our blessings above the burdens, as we anxiously await the worst that could come. I think it’s perfectly alright to be afraid and share those feelings, as I’m doing here.

What’s helping me? Being intentional about instituting longer walks in the fresh air, touching base with close friends and family, and trying to not plan too far in advance are a few suggestions that are helping me to reign in my feelings of fear and overwhelm. I know that when the threat of things out of my control allows panic to set within me, the fear of the unknown unnerves me to the point that I feel I’m unraveling at the seams, and the inevitable changes continue to roll in like a thunder, I can and should acknowledge how unsettling it is and allow myself to feel the fears and cry the tears. Then, I can and will turn to my faith, my journal, and my resources (husband, therapist, close confidants) to help calm my nerves and keep me grounded in what I can control: my choices, my responses, my thoughts, and my actions.

Part of the necessary changes that have me conflicted and unsure of myself? Honestly, the unknown timeline, the stretch of possible scarcity, the chance that one of my closed loved ones will be afflicted with the virus, having my children home with me full-time for the foreseeable future, my husband now working from home, and the upheaval coupled with the multitude of challenges to my routine and schedule of priorities. I know that each and every one of you can relate in your own unique and personal way. No matter how much I will relish the time together, rewriting priorities and accepting the inevitable in a time of crisis isn’t easy. Time is of the essence, so I’m breathing through my reluctance, allowing room for the changes, hoping for positive change, and praying for the blessings to unfold.

So, what is helping me embrace all that’s happening? Having a tangible plan in place, making daily lists, setting a loose schedule, being open to new ideas, a stack of books to read for me and the kids, devising and sticking to a meal plan, and realizing that this time at home will most definitely define all of us this year. On the positive side, it will unknowingly sprout newfound ways to grow closer together, slow us down to a pace of calm and restoration, and allow our hearts and minds to be open to unexpected opportunities for enjoyment and making memories to cherish.

Inspired by the shared Facebook post of one of my friends, I helped my kids write a couple of lists to help them during this time of transition and great change: “Things to do when I am bored” and “Everyday work”. Each of them came up with what they thought they needed to do and what they’d most like to do to help pass the long days ahead. Some of their ideas included:

(When bored)

  • Practice their respective sport skills (soccer, lacrosse, flag football)
  • Play with kinetic sand or play-doh
  • Play a card game or board game
  • Roller skating in the garage
  • Jump on the indoor trampoline
  • Paint
  • Lacing cards
  • Build LEGO
  • Puzzles
  • Paper crafts, drawing, coloring
  • Listen to music
  • Write a story
  • Lift weights
  • Read in my bed
  • Ride my bike or scooter
  • Play with dolls or stuffed animals
  • Play in the backyard
  • Write letters
  • Make a bracelet
  • Crafts
  • Paint nails
  • Chalk on the walk
  • Write stories
  • Read

(Everyday Work)

  • Make bed
  • Fill water bottle and keep hydrated
  • Take a walk
  • Homework
  • Practice dance recital routines
  • Exercise and stretch
  • Read
  • Sport skills
  • Chores
  • Boy Scout rank advancement and merit badge requirements
  • Keep bedroom clean
  • Math facts, Word Ladders
  • Trumpet practice
  • Speech therapy practice
  • Have fun!

When possible, I am adding to these lists:

  • reading aloud or listening to classic and humorous tales together as a family
  • catching up on family movies we usually save for summer break
  • keeping music on in the background to lighten the mood and lessen the feelings of loneliness
  • joining together to tackle some spring cleaning projects
  • FaceTime with family and friends
  • sending out drawings/postcards/letters
  • a camp-out in the backyard when the weather warms up a bit

We’ll also put out the hammock soon, plant some seeds, go on some local hikes, watch video posts by authors and illustrators (Mo Willems, Jason Tharp, etc…), check out the Cincinnati Zoo’s Home Safari, and more.

For myself? I’m prioritizing: sleep, daily walks, reading, healthy meals, exercise, cleaning and organizing, adding more breaks throughout the day, checking the news only once per day (not at night), keeping therapy appointments, and taking a weekly detox bath.

Yet, what happens when the kids are feeling tired and bored and nothing on their lists satiates their deep feelings of weariness? What to do when they begin to really miss their friends, family, and teachers? What if they burn out on having enough family time? What if their resolve breaks and their own fears overwhelm their young minds and hearts? What can I do when I’m craving nothing more than a big chunk of alone time or am in need of friend time for myself? What will happen if supplies and patience run low?

Certainly, it will happen folks. All of it—the messy, the hard, the big emotions, the monotony, and the frustration. Uncertainty and fear will ebb and flow. Therefore, we must plan for these unmistakable fragile moments, too. No doubt, with a little foresight, empathy, and compassion, it will be alright. We have it within us to reset, reassure, relax, and restore our loved ones in their pain, confusion, doubt, worries, and stress. We can share in it all, give one another grace and space, and move forward in faith over fear.

Together, we can acknowledge that this entire overhaul of our lives is difficult, but we can be there for each other in a multitude of creative and meaningful ways. We can increase outreach to one other, share our abundance, connect over social media, check-in with loved ones, give helpful suggestions, spread love and stories of goodwill, and do not hesitate to ask for advice and help for ourselves and loved ones. Phone a friend, you know?

We will—all of us— get through this strange and indeterminate time, and arise stronger, closer, wiser, and hopefully, more compassionate toward one another than ever before for having gone through such a time as this. Hold yourself and your loved ones close. And remember: Be wise. Be prudent. Be watchful. Be kind. Be safe. Be flexible. Be open. Be forgiving. Be at peace.

 

I’ve found that there is always some beauty left — in nature, sunshine, freedom, in yourself; these can all help you. – Anne Frank, The Diary of a Young Girl

On Grief and Gratitude

04 Sunday Nov 2018

Posted by in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Change, Family life, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Perspective, Seasons, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days, Truth of Heart

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Ye have lost a child—nay, she is not lost to you, who is found to Christ; she is not sent away, but only sent before; like unto a star, which going out of our sight, doth not die and vanish, but shineth in another hemisphere.” ~ Samuel Rutherford

 

This October, as in years past, I honored the short lives of the children I miscarried. In appreciation for those that traveled with me (and my family) through the compounded grief of losing six children, I’ve been seeking ways to give back and offer personal help to other mothers wrought with the raw pain of losing a child they’ll never hold.

Having moved well past my acute pain and piercing suffering, I finally feel free enough to turn my grief experience into service and action. My writing has been a solace to others, and I’ve personally aided friends through their own child loss journeys over the years. Though, this fall I have felt the call to do something more for the cause.

Locally, there is an organization that exists for this very reason—to shepherd families going through the unthinkable sorrow of losing a child—and I’ve had personal experience with the compassion, care, and services this important ministry offers. Reaching out, I started by writing a guest blog post last month, and hope to do so much more for them and the community of families whose hearts and lives have been forever altered by the loss of a child.

{You can read my guest post on their blog, here.}

 

Now that November is upon us, I have turned my focus toward gratitude, seeking out pleasure in the simple joys, and giving thanks for all the things I too often take for granted. Over the years, this practice in listing my blessings for the thirty days in November has refined my mind and heart—especially when the threads of my inner-being have threatened to unravel into disrepair. My struggles are incomprehensible at times, but I refuse to be broken and ungrateful.

No matter your circumstances, dear reader, I hope you will find the will in your heart to join me in pausing, savoring the good, and giving praise and thanksgiving for any fleck of beauty, moment of grace, and glimmer of hope you find in your world today, and the whole month through. Today, I am grateful to you for taking the time to read what I have written.

 

“Wear gratitude like a cloak and it will feed every corner of your life.” ~ Rumi

 

 

Resting in the Stillness After Personal Struggle

03 Tuesday Apr 2018

Posted by in Acceptance, Ash Wednesday, Blessings, Catholic Parenting, Change, Childhood Mood Disorders, Family life, Forgiveness, Journaling, Lent, Love, Motherhood, Parenting, Parenting a Child with Special Needs, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Prayer, Prayers, Rest, Seasons, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days, Truth of Heart

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Silence, I learned, is some times the most beautiful sound.” 
― Charlotte Eriksson

“Slowly, simply, silence, stillness” was my Lenten mantra, my focus, my goal for the 40 days between Ash Wednesday and Easter morning. A lofty goal, yes. Yet, I was convinced this intentional journey would yield the peaceful rewards I was seeking in my personal life. Of all my Lenten fasts, in comparison to all my past sacrifices, in judging the level of self-denial I’ve deliberately imposed on myself, this year’s “halt of self” has been the most challenging in refinement of my mind, body, and spirit.

Do you trust the silence? Or, are you a skeptic of stillness, like I tend to be?

Have you found a way to rest in the stillness? Do you ever allow yourself the chance to rest your weary mind and bones?

Do you welcome in the peace? Or, are you prone to catastrophising out of innate fear?

Have you lived out loud, with joy and freedom from the chains of your mind? Or, do you lurk along in misery, always waiting for the other shoe to drop?

The last three years, for me, have felt like an ultra-marathon, filled with hills and valleys of tears, running at a snail’s pace, feeling completely lost and unprepared for the race set before me, as I carried a weighted pack on my shoulders, trudging through mud, falling down too many times that I’ve lost track. Over the last few weeks, I have seen the finish line in sight and I’m eager, yet still so apprehensive, to finish the race and rest in the notion that the biggest fight of my life thus far, is finally done. I am having a difficult time accepting that the grueling miles I’ve run have amounted to much more than having run a race I was thrown into, without adequate preparation. Now that my desperate pleas and prayers seem to be answered, it’s difficult to switch gears to a place where it’s time to rest, recuperate, recover from the incredible feat I have just accomplished, emotionally.

For so very long now, I have carried that burdensome cross of mothering a struggling child without a compass, my headlamp dimmed, my resolve shaken and trampled on. Yet, here I rise. The truth is the only way I’ve survived the mountainous terrain of my parenting journey is that I’m finally allowing myself to let go of control. Though fears still grapple me with super-human strength, I am diligent in practicing how to breathe through them, pray through them, write through them, and further unloading them in dialogue with my amazing therapist, trying to leave them in that space between us, not letting them drag me to the floor once I return home.

I’ve practiced a lot of self-forgiveness as I’ve fallen flat on my face and the need to forgive and seek forgiveness will remain a focus in my life. Despite my missteps and mistakes, I can recognize that I am loving as best I can today, and have let those circumstances, hardships, and some relationships to just be, freely flying away to where they need to go—even if that means far away from me where I can no longer enact any type of chance to insert my will, my advice, my vision, or my control.

The most humbling lesson I’ve learned in the last three years is that it’s okay, preferable, actually, to let go of perfection and preconceived notions, allowing God to do His job, and to just love—myself, others, my family, strangers, my friends, and enemies—right where I am and right where they are, without expectation nor conditions to that love. Truth be told, it’s a difficult, often heart-wrenching choice, challenge, and cross to bear going on in love when you feel so beaten down and defeated by the compounding hardships of life. But, going on in love and patience, staying mindful to live each day as best as I can, choosing better than before, these new choices and changes only feel strange and unnatural for a time before the transformative lightness is shining from deep within my heart, mind, and soul, changing me for the better.

Slowly, simply, silence, stillness. This has been my Lenten focus and will remain my prayerful path going into the Easter season and throughout the remainder of this year. Hoping for heartfelt and mindful changes for you, me, and the world abound. Be at peace, friends.

“Whenever there is stillness there is the still small voice, God’s speaking from the whirlwind, nature’s old song, and dance…” 
― Annie Dillard, Teaching a Stone to Talk: Expeditions and Encounters

Being Thankful for this Blessed Life of Mine

10 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Blessings, Change, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Prayer, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Remember the past with gratitude. Live the present with enthusiasm. Look forward to the future with confidence. ~ St. John Paul II

 

At the end of a full and lively week, I am simply grateful for being given the chance to live out this blessed life of mine. Despite the difficult trials I face and the numerous crosses I’ve been asked to carry, the deep struggles won’t stop me from giving thanks for all that I have, all that I am, and all that I know to be true. It has been quite the journey for me moving from a worrying and despairing heart toward that of one whom can recognize and recall a list of blessings no matter the circumstances of the day.

The process is messy and feels ridiculous at times, truth be told. However, once you reach the peak of graciousness, your life will be forever changed–emotionally, mentally, even physically. It’s not about being a “Pollyanna,” no. Rather, gleaning gratitude is more about recognizing that no matter how awful, cruel, unfair and worthless life seems at times, if you soldier on through the worst and most damaging experiences then you will most likely reach a measure of strength and purification of your entire being that can only be described as enlightening and awe-inspiring. My hope for you, if you are now wrestling with your own tremendously troubling circumstances, is that you may find any reason today to celebrate a glimmer of optimism, search for a light in the dark, and a chance at a better tomorrow.

Readers, there is so much more I want to explore and write about related to emerging grateful from a heart of stone, and I will circle back to it soon, I promise. For now, I hope you are enjoying this “30 Days of Thanks” blog series and that it is inspiring you to set about your own journey toward a more grateful heart. 

 

I don’t have to chase extraordinary moments to find happiness – it’s right in front of me if I’m paying attention and practicing gratitude. ~ Brene Brown

In Gratitude for Learning how to Forgive Thyself

06 Monday Nov 2017

Posted by in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Blessings, Change, Forgiveness, Memories, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Perspective, Seasons, Thankfulness, Walking & Hiking

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , ,

Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; With them forgive yourself. ~ William Shakespeare

 

Allowing my mind to wander at will during my brisk walk today along the trustworthy path in the neighborhood where I reside, my thoughts turned to the act of forgiveness and what a delicate art mercy can be, especially when extending that grace to oneself. Revealingly, my inner critic is a harsh woman and I persistently fight for victory against her bitter tongue and unrealistic expectations. Today, I am thankful for the great lessons of life and heart that have contributed to my acquired strength, humble formation and greatness of spirit over these forty-something years. Self-reflection reveals I am witness to the lasting goodness, genuine beauty and absolute joy that emanates when one learns to forgive herself with the utmost sincerity.

 

“When you forgive, you love. And when you love, God’s light shines upon you.”   ~ Jon Krakauer, Into the Wild

 

Thankfulness for the Simple Joys

05 Sunday Nov 2017

Posted by in 30 Days of Thanks, 30 Days of Thanksgiving, Blessings, Change, Chasing Dreams, Inspiration, Journaling, Laptops, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Seasons, Stress & Anxiety, Suffering, Thankfulness, Tough days, Writing, Writing Goals

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“I have learned over a period of time to be almost unconsciously grateful–as a child is–for a sunny day, blue water, flowers in a vase, a tree turning red. I have learned to be glad at dawn and when the sky is dark. Only children and a few spiritually evolved people are born to feel gratitude as naturally as they breathe, without even thinking. Most of us come to it step by painful step, to discover that gratitude is a form of acceptance.” ~ Faith Baldwin

 

Today woke me to a somber mood that mirrored the gray Ohio skies outside my door. The wind is blowing away the temperate climate now by beckoning and ushering in the cold that will last for days on end. We won’t see sun until the end of the week, I’m afraid.

How might I feel an ounce of gratitude on such a dismal day? I light an autumn-scented soy wax candle and allow the glow of the orange flame to warm up the house with its ambiance and fragrant aroma. I answer a phone call from a sibling and feel gladdened by the goodness of spirit in the sound of his voice, and pleased we’ve made plans to be together on Thanksgiving Day. I sit with a steaming cup of tea and conjure up a dinner menu that will include my favorite roasted vegetables. I journal through my anxiety, type away the fear, and continue editing my essays that remain in-progress by diligently writing closer to completion.

My gratitude today is rooted in having a creative craft to focus on, noticing the plain and uncomplicated blessings that cultivate joy, and that my eyes, mind and heart are made open-wide by the gifts of simplicity.

 

“Forget about the money for a moment. Lose yourself in the wilderness, listen to the music of the softly blowing winds, feel the rain on your bare skin, let the mountains take the burden off your shoulders.” ~Kiran Bisht

 

Lighting the way for those children lost too soon, never forgotten, remaining forever in our hearts #waveoflight2017

15 Sunday Oct 2017

Posted by in Catholic Parenting, Change, Infertility, Love, Memories, Miscarriage, Motherhood, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month, October 15th, Parenting, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Prayer, Seasons, SIDS, Suffering, Tough days, Wave of Light

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“There is, I am convinced, no picture that conveys in all its dreadfulness, a vision of sorrow, despairing, remediless, supreme. If I could paint such a picture, the canvas would show only a woman looking down at her empty arms.” ~ Charlotte Brontë

 

A flicker of light,

a ray shining through,

cast out the shadow of loss inside my heart

warm the chill of remembrance within me.

 

Annually on October 15th, grieving parents around the globe light candles that illuminate their homes in solidarity, united by brilliant luminance and the heartbreak entrenched by the grief over the children they have lost prematurely or in early infancy. The seven o’clock hour on this day, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, ignites the sorrowful hearts and minds of those whose lives have been tragically impacted by the loss of a child from miscarriage, stillborn death, and SIDS.

It’s alarming to read that ten to fifteen percent of all confirmed pregnancies will end in miscarriage. (Source: https://www.marchofdimes.org/complications/miscarriage.aspx)

Even graver, to learn that over 23,000 babies each year are stillborn. (Source: https://www.marchofdimes.org/complications/stillbirth.aspx)

A grim report from the CDC states that 3,700 cases of SIDS were confirmed in 2015.(Source:  https://www.cdc.gov/sids/data.htm)

“Sometimes the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.” ~ A.A. Milne

 

Most every year, I write about my shared grief on this day. (You can read my past blog posts related to miscarriage here.) Miscarriage and baby loss has affected me distinctly and most profoundly, and these incredibly difficult experiences were, in fact, the initial driving force behind starting this blog years ago. Writing through the lingering grief in hope of discovering new sources of joy in motherhood, my intent in offering up these deeply personal stories of mine was, and still remains, rooted in wanting to reach a grieving mother (or father) at the right time in their own journey of grief founded in miscarriage or infant loss out searching for understanding, compassion, and hope. Some brave voices and compelling stories of strangers, comprised a sorrowful circle of mothers who had known loss like I had, were discovered by me in quiet desperation for answers, community, and reason. Through the melancholic melody of their words, these women offered my grieving heart comfort, validation, and most importantly, hope. I only hope my stories will be the same beacon of light for someone in need.

On that note, I would like to recommend a few well-written blogs penned by authors, much like myself, gravely affected by the loss of their own children:

https://www.freckleeyefancy.com/

http://www.glowinthewoods.com/

https://grievingoutloud.com/

“Write hard and clear about what hurts.” ~ Ernest Hemingway

 

Tonight at 7:00, my family and I will be lighting a candle to honor and remember the six children we lost in miscarriage, our angels: Agnes, Julian, Max, Catherine, John, and Francis.

“It is better to light a candle than curse the darkness.” ~ Eleanor Roosevelt

 

Please join me in this special lighting ceremony, from wherever you read, to keep the light of remembrance aflame, and honor the hearts of their grieving parents and families.  #waveoflight

 

“Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.” ~ Buddha

 

Embracing Change with a Joyful Heart

06 Wednesday Sep 2017

Posted by in Catholic Parenting, Change, Infertility, Marriage, Motherhood, Past, Peace, Personal Challenges, Personal health, Perspective, Seasons, The Husband, Tough days

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“Shout out to everyone transcending
a mindset, mentality, desire, belief,
emotion, habit, behavior or vibration,
that no longer serves them.”
― Lalah Delia

 

Transitions mean change that we are often leery of embracing.  Though, to continue through this lifetime, evolutionary movement is inevitable. In order to truly live our lives to the fullest, we must embrace the modifications before us, and all the meaning interwoven in the possibilities that change brings. We must challenge ourselves to seek joy, even on the unlit pathways strewn before us.

For the past fourteen years, The Husband and I have been focused on growing our family. With the onset of aging, and my reproductive abilities most likely behind us, we must transition to this new phase of settling in with the beautiful family we’ve built, and closing the door to adding any additional members to our team. The signs have been there for some time now, and we are learning to accept and move forward with great purpose, dousing the flame of “trying again,” laying all that we were striving for to rest. Always open to life, we would never say, “No” if the miracle of conception occurred once more, though, we believe that the likelihood of pregnancy happening again is slim-to-none.

Together, we move forward in what awaits us, graced to raise and cherish those lives we’ve been entrusted to care for, and joyful for the opportunity to dote on all new beings in our family circle, such as the recent birth of our great-nephew.  Change feels good, welcomed and peaceful, even. To not feel so raced against an hourglass of rushed pursuit every month and year that passes? Grateful rest. Having the sensations of feeling complete and whole as we are? Appreciative contentment. To hold and cherish a deeper respect for myself, my abilities, and the gifts I embody as a woman, wife, and mother? Self-aware confidence. To fathom that our dream was achieved and acknowledging The Husband and I conquered a great feat and won? Triumphant joy.

Some unchartered territory beckons before me that may not be paved in effervescent gold; certainly not. Although the newfound direction may surprise my wildest visions, I absolutely anticipate encountering loose gravel, hilly terrain, and perhaps a boulder or two to either push against with all my might, or climb atop—triumphantly, mightily, and with a strength found only from deep within me, built from all these years ascending mountainous trials I never expected to encounter. The scars and losses that sketch the landscape of my being are pure and organic; a heartbreaking fissure in my forever self. Despite the crosses I’ve been asked to carry, I still delight in the beauty that has emerged–more natural and miraculous than I could have ever envisioned. Life has deepened in meaning and purpose, and I will continue to seek out the joy in all that is left to live.