Happy Birthday, Mom

happy birthday mom

Ash Wednesday

"Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return." It's Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, the 40 days of fasting, prayer and penance preparing the heart for Easter. 

The girls and I went to Mass this morning and received our ashes, and began our Lenten journals. Last year we made journals with cardboard covers, journaled throughout Lent then decorated the covers at Easter. This year I made my journal from a hymnal page, a scrap of my mom's lace and a snippet of paper my dad signed. (My dad used to sign his books and write the date he finished reading it.) I chose this date from the stack of snippets because on March 30th this year, at the Easter Vigil, my grandpa is getting baptized. So today begins my journey through the desert of Lent toward the light of Easter.

"Yet even now," says the Lord, "return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning; and tear your hearts and not your garments." Return to the Lord, your God, for he is gracious and merciful , slow to anger, and abounding in mercy, and relenting in punishment." Joel 2:12-13

Yesterday, was our monthly trip to the orthodontist. As one of my Facebook friends said, "Something this expensive deserves to be photographed." 

They always laugh at me when I come into the office toting my camera. I told them you don't even need a press pass to get good photo access if your camera is big enough. (P.S. That's not always true, but it doesn't hurt your efforts.) 

I tried to get a shot of Torrey's reflection in the little tooth mirror, but then I was getting in the way of their actual work. We can't win them all! 

"In every century, in this century, in the next century, the Passion is what it was in the first century, when it occurred; a thing stared at by a crowd. It remains a tragedy of the people; a crime of the people; a consolation of the people; but never merely a thing of the period. And its vitality comes from the very things that its foes find a scandal and a stumbling-block; from its dogmatism and from its dreadfulness. It lives, because it involves the staggering story of the Creator truly groaning and travailing with his Creation; and the highest thing thinkable passing through some nadir of the lowest curve of the cosmos. And it lives, because the very blast from this black cloud of death comes upon the world as a wind of everlasting life; by which all things wake and are alive."

-G.K. Chesterton, 'The Way of the Cross'

{pray}

Today was one of those spend-the-day-praying kind of days. In the midst of grieving, you never quite know when something is going bring all of the sadness to the surface. It strikes you from out of nowhere. Today was like that. I was a mess, for what should have been no reason. After Mass, we spent some time at the cemetery praying. It seems like things should get easier, and often they are, but sometimes they aren't. I still haven't checked my phone messages since my mom and dad died in September. I'm sure my voicemail box is overflowing. (So if you've called my house and left a message and I haven't responded, it's not personal.) The task just seems so overwhelming. One foot in front of the other, one day at a time. 

Torrey with my grandma's rosary.

I know I have posted this before, but it strikes me every time I read it. 

All pessimism has a secret optimism for its object. All surrender of life, all denial of pleasure, all darkness, all austerity, all desolation has for its real aim this separation of something so that it may be poignantly and perfectly enjoyed. I feel grateful for the slight sprain which has introduced this mysterious and fascinating division between one of my feet and the other. The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost. In one of my feet I can feel how strong and splendid a foot is; in the other I can realize how very much otherwise it might have been. The moral of the thing is wholly exhilarating. This world and all our powers in it are fare more awful and beautiful than even we know until some accident reminds us. If you wish to perceive that limitless felicity, limit yourself if only for a moment. If you wish to realize how fearfully and wonderfully God's image is made, stand on one leg. If you want to realize the splendid vision of all visible things - wink the other eye. 

G.K. Chesterton, Tremendous Trifles

Seeing Yellow

This past week has been a roller coaster ride along the ups and downs of health and wellness. That's not to mention the outpouring of family devotion and strength under fire of circumstance. There is likely to be over the coming days many more pictures of this precious little yellow man that I call Daddy and my girls call Pa. He is truly one of my greatest treasures on earth. I've been doing my best to tend to his needs changing bandages, refilling ice packs, fetching pillows, learning how to cook food without salt (thank you sodiumgirl.com) and learning a second language (the medical lingo in all things liver related, or at least some things). We celebrated his 60th birthday this week without much fanfare as he drifted in and out of sleep in my parent's living room. If you think to, send a prayer our way for my dad. He really is a precious gift from God to me and so many others.