The woman paused, admiring her reflection as she applied just the right amount of mascara on her long, thick eyelashes. Her eyebrows were immaculately groomed; her eye shadow glittered in the light. The woman’s expensive cosmetics were easy to spot. Hers was a $200 face, easily, friends would say. Her fingernails were perfectly polished and shining. The pedicure she had recently was shown off by the fashionable shoes which graced her feet. The very latest in costume jewelry bedecked her, in a chic necklace, jangling bracelets, and irresistible rings. The woman’s clothes were carefully chosen for their style, as well as the effect they would have on other people. Most would view the woman and think she was wealthy, powerful even. They would think she was a style maven, an icon of fashion. She had it all. That was the desired effect, yet the opposite was true. No one knew how very empty she really was inside.

The woman lifted her chin again, making her best ‘come hither’ look at herself, knowing deep inside that she was not only looking at herself in the mirror, but at someone else. She was gazing at the part of herself that was fed by attending church in her finest clothing, in being looked at as a person with no problems. She drove a fast car, had a perfect home, a neatly manicured yard, and beautiful children. No one in her family dared leave the house with as much of a spot on their clothing. Everything they did was for show, all for the benefit of what others would think of them.

What would the mirror say if it could talk? she wondered to herself. The woman knew she did very little that didn’t feed into her image, yet she didn’t care. She read the Bible about worshipping a golden idol, but that didn’t apply to her. She knew who God was, and gave heavily to the church.

She didn’t like to show weakness, but was forced to give in to it sometimes. The woman worked out obsessively for hours every day, but would never confess to it. (She had good genes), she would say to friends who were amazed at her figure, especially for someone who didn’t exercise. If she was tired afterward, she’d take a nap, but only if her husband was away at work. It was important that she be perceived as strong, and doing what she should for others to see. She was a good mother, a great wife, and a pillar of the community.

One day, the woman was weary after a long, tedious work out, so she decided upon a nap. At first, she lay awake, enjoying staring at the mirror on her dresser, wondering how she looked while sleeping. What a silly thing to think about, she thought, and dismissed the notion. She drifted off to sleep. Sunshine crept into the bedroom, and shone warmly on the afghan covering her.

Helene awoke, wondering where she was. It appeared that she had slept through the day, and into the night. Here it was morning again, and she had to hustle. She rose quickly, moving into the bathroom for a quick shower.

Helene never liked to look at herself in the mirror until she was fully dressed, while putting on her face. Nothing says money like good quality make-up, she thought. Now dressed, she hurried to fix her face so she could drink coffee with Rex, her husband, and make breakfast for the kids. She would be doing what a good mother should, like an old TV show where the perky Mom serves breakfast to her smiling kids.

This time though, something looked different in the mirror. Helene squinted, but couldn’t quite see what it was until her contact lenses were in place. She was taken aback by her appearance. Here she was, wearing another gorgeous outfit, all ready for volunteering at the elementary school, but she couldn’t go like that. What in the world had happened to her?

Helena applied her make-up carefully, meticulously. She wanted to look fresh and natural, beautiful. Her lips glistened in a lovely shade of coral that made her look vivacious, she thought. All except for that funny complexion I have today. Maybe I should turn the make-up mirror light up even higher so I can color-correct. Dialing the bathroom’s dimmer switch to its brightest, Helene gasped in unadulterated shock.

Her entire body, from head to toe, was covered in what looked like pure gold!

Helene made a pouty face, and applied a more vibrant shade of red to her lips, but wiped it away, preferring the gold. How exquisitely rich she appeared!

Examining every pore, she realized she liked it. She began to think about what she would say if others stopped her on the street, asking who she was. Helene visualized facing a crowd of people on a crowded street corner, asking for her autograph. She wasn’t prepared for the words which were brought forth from her mouth in a way that suggested grandeur, grandiosity.

“I am the golden idol which you seek, toiling from dawn ‘til dusk, which you seek in empty pursuit of happiness. My face glitters like the sun. I wear jewels on every finger. You may want to be like me, and know me, but you will never, ever reach me. I will always run from you. I am worshipped on every street, in every home, in every mall, in every school, in every workplace. I am youth, beauty, and riches. I am forever changing. You will never keep up with me. My beauty is timeless and unattainable. Everyone wants what I have, yet truly I have nothing.”

As she turned from the mirror, Helene realized how silly it was to apply the endless skin lotions, how fruitless it was to skip meals and to spend endless hours shopping for clothing that cost too much, and gave her no pleasure. She imagined herself facing the crowd again.

“I say to you, I have nothing, and my face is not even mine”, she said, hearing a collective gasp rise from the crowd. Seeing the disbelief in their eyes, Helene brushed aside the curtain of blonde hair on one side of her golden face. Now exposed were the bare bones of her skull, revealing death’s face beneath the golden strands.

…”So you see, I am nothing inside, for my thoughts have all been for the wrong master,” she said flatly. “Now my fate is sealed, unless I can find a way back to life.”

A small, brown-eyed child, dressed in rags now faced Helene in front of the crowd. Not one of the people, who had been so interested in her only moments ago, met her gaze, except for the child. The little girl was dressed in nothing more than a dirty dress which was inches too short. The little girl gazed up at the golden statue-woman. The child’s feet were bare, her bare legs mottled by dirt. She held out her empty hand to Helene.

Helene rummaged through her golden clutch purse, looking for coins. Finding none, she impulsively decided to offer the little child a large bill. The paper money fluttered in the breeze as Helene extended it to the child.

…”Now you are serving my Master,” the innocent one said sweetly. She smiled, and took the money. “Do you know Him? He’s Jesus, and He’s really glad you helped me and my mommy today. He’s smiling at you right now, only we can’t see Him.”

Helene jumped back, as if she received an electric shock, pulling her hand away from the girl. Looking down, she realized that the skin on her arm was changed, to the color it once was, a pale alabaster. That was before all the shopping that made her feel…complete. Helene realized that she too, wore rags, yet she didn’t mind. Her feet were bare, and she felt a rumbling in her stomach. She was so hungry. It felt as if her entire being was empty.

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Waking with a start, Helene glanced in the mirror as she hurried to dress. She was late to pick the kids up from school. She must be a sight! On her way back from the walk-in closet, she threw a few plastic bags on the bed, so they would be ready. She had plans for those bags, to fill them with clothes for the ladies that had nothing, while she had so much. Helene knew that by giving, she would receive, and that she had been so empty inside needlessly. Sighing, she carefully placed the Good Book in her handbag to read in the car pick-up line at the school. Thank goodness, it had only been a dream, but at last…she would be fed.

This is a letter of all the things I have wanted to say to my mother over the years, but never had the guts. Maybe I’m a bit mushy, but I have had the gift of an amazing role model. What’s that? Not true, you say? You think you have made lots of mistakes, you say? I’m here to tell you about how special you and all the other mothers are out there today. You may not be up for sainthood (yet), but have already been canonized in my heart. So, here’s to you, Mom!!!

Dear Mom,

Today is your day, Mother’s Day. I thought about sending the usual bouquet of flowers, but wanted to give you something more lasting, like a tribute. Since I am very fond of writing lists, I decided to write one for you of all the amazing things you’ve done for me over the years. (Readers, if you recognize your mom in any of these items today, tell your ma without delay) !

1) Mom, without a doubt you have shown me the beauty and fulness of our Catholic faith, which inspired me to share it with my children, and the whole world.

2) You taught me that life is not a Kodak moment, it’s messy, and no one escapes unscathed. While TV and movies want us to emulate something that is plastic and hollow, you taught me that life (especially family life) is not something we can readily fix by applying this lotion, or that make-up, or those clothes (as seen on TV). You taught me that prayer and a close relationship with God is the only answer and the proper foundation for all close ties. That gave me the courage to announce myself as a Christian, which helped me find good friends who believe as I do. I no longer feel like a fish out of water, as a rarity in a largely unchurched nation, but like the many that have the courage to show their love for God as I do. Thank you for that.

3) Mom, you believed in me when I was wounded by life and unable to be anything to you other than a nightly prayer. Your prayers and encouragement saved me, along with your relentless truth-telling about life, when you knew I was ready. Before that, you maintained my right to be a child by insisting on many things that were not popular at the time. Now I understand why you really didn’t like “The Love Boat,” and “Three’s Company,” and while my friends snickered alot about that, I secretly loved that you cared. I do many of the same things you did when I was a kid with my own children. I may not be a cool mom, but I do care – deeply, about my own children’s innocence and their salvation, all thanks to you.

4) Mom, you have always understood me like no other person. I can never, ever tell you how much that means to me.

5) We have both made mistakes: but I will always love you, and I will cry every day when I finally do lose you, until we are reunited in the kingdom of heaven. You are my Mommy, and I love you, forever and ever.

Happy Mother’s Day, Mom !

Love,

Your Little One

Melody paused, reading her husband’s face as he struggled to gain control over his emotions. Today was another long, stressful day for them both. Work was full of fires to put out, endless deadlines, unreasonable requests, the kind she could never say no to, lest she be seen as someone who wasn’t a “team player.” She was getting paid, but how much was this job going to steal from her? All she really wanted to do was be a stay-at-home mom, but times were tough, and the mortgage wasn’t going to pay itself. Melody’s husband worked two jobs to pay the bills. Steve was tired and short-tempered a lot, but at least they still had a house. Two years ago, she hadn’t been so sure they could afford it.

The plant closed down on such short notice. One day Steve had a well-paying job, they had two cars, a vacation or two every year, and then blammo, it was all gone. Steve had felt like a failure for a time, but started a home-based business selling flyers to utility companies. They were doing all right, but Melody resented having to work so hard after living the “easy” life as a wife and mother at home. Now her job as a sales rep took much of her time away from home, and she felt so conflicted. Was she a Mom or a career jockey? Bit by bit, she felt that everything previously in her control was slipping through her fingers.

The kids were getting sassier by the day, being in public school, and seeing friends and others talk back to their teachers like it was nothing. All the kids at school had outrageous amount of toys, and played video games like they wished they were a part of their own brains. Melody imagined kids going to school expecting to be entertained, instead of taught. I’ll never get used to this, she sighed. How she longed for the good-old days, when kids would never have dreamed to speak to a teacher disrespectfully, and life was not a constant blur of activities. Worse yet, they never even acted like kids anymore, and she had little time or patience to oversee the friendships and the activities like she used to….almost like not being a mom at all, she sighed. Getting through the week at work was hard enough, and then there was the guilt…and all the household chores to do. She trudged through her work most weeks, feeling so tired she was numb.

Steven was too busy to do more than a few dishes, or mow the lawn. He tried, but since his job paid more, it had to come first. Forced servitude! Melody would scream in her head. This is so unfair! Why couldn’t I have married someone rich? The very thought reverberated around Melody’s head until it hurt, so she decided to take a walk around the block. She felt shamed for thinking such a thing, because Steven was a good man. She was lucky to have married him.

I probably look like an idiot, walking around in these silly work clothes, high heels and all, she mused. Oh well, just a quick spin will clear my head. Glancing around, she spied a neighborhood mom, on her daily walk with a stroller full of her triplets. They must be about two years old now, Melody thought. I’ll just go up and say ‘hi’ to Angela.

As she ambled up to her friend, she heard, “Hi, you look so nice today! Sometimes I just feel so envious of ladies with careers. Today I was thrown up on three times, and I’m all out of diapers. My husband is at work and we have to walk to the store. Robin is colicky and I can’t seem to stop crying today. I’m so tired and my husband acts like I’ve been on vacation all day when he comes home from work.” Angela wiped away a tear, and said, “I’m sorry for complaining all over you. I’m having a really bad day and I know I practically advertise that sometimes I don’t like being a stay-at-home Mom. Please don’t think badly of me, okay, Melody?”

Silently, Melody nodded, and thought about her life. It’s not so bad, she realized. I probably would not feel so bad if I just stopped feeling sorry for myself. She eased her car out of their quiet subdivision into a strip mall for a quick jaunt to the drugstore.

Melody returned in record time, feeling uplifted, and cheerily knocked upon Angela’s door. Handing the triplet’s mom 3 packages of diapers, wipes, and a box of chocolates, she said cheerfully, “Happy Mother’s Day!” Angela’s face shouted her surprise, and then crumpled.

…”Oh, Melody, you just made my entire week,” she sniffed. “Here I’ve been feeling so envious of you lately for getting out of the house and making money. All I feel good for is scrubbing the toilet and wiping snotty noses. I just felt like I couldn’t do it anymore when I ran into you, and here you are, all put-together, helping me. It’s pathetic! Oh, I know I need to pull myself together, I’m okay”. Angela blew her nose noisily, and then surveyed her friend’s attractive outfit.

Her smile was a billboard for what Angela felt in her heart. She was going to be okay, and try to be more poised, like her friend Melody. Just then, Angela spied something that made her giggle with glee.

…”Uh, Melody? I hate to be the one to tell you this, but you have cheerios stuck all over the back of your pants!” Together the moms laughed until their sides split. “Wow, you might not spend your days at home, but you’ve got ‘Motherhood’ written all over you!”

The friends laughed and giggled, talking excitedly about how they spent their days. Melody had a new found respect for herself, for Angela, and daily struggle their husbands went through as men, and providers. Picking the cheerios off of her pants, Melody giggled and looked forward to the kids coming home on the bus.

Christy stood in her garage, surveying the mess. How was she going to clean all this up before her company arrived? Sighing, she started picking up stray items to form a walkway to and from the front of the garage door. On her way, she stubbed her toe on something hard, and let a choice word slip out (accidently, of course). She stopped short when she heard a voice answer her.

The roar of the Enemy laughing at her was unmistakable. Christy flinched as the misspoken words left her mouth, knowing it was wrong to curse, even in the most frustrating circumstances. What she didn’t expect to hear was the eerie laughter reverberating around her garage, and the voice that answered her.

…”Hello, Christian,” the voice mocked. To Christy, it was like hearing the sound of unadulterated evil, with so much menace. The voice of the Enemy was as scary as anything she had ever heard, a low rumbling sound, like an animal. She whirled to face it, but no one was there.

The laughter sounded again, with whoops of mean-spirited laughter, and there was no misunderstanding it. The Enemy was laughing at Christy, but why? Was it because she had slipped and said something she shouldn’t have, or was it for a different reason? Worse yet, she realized, she must be losing her mind. There is no one in this garage but me, Christy reasoned. I’m alone. I’m a child of God, and I am protected by God and his holy angels. I’m alone, I’m alone, she kept repeating.

The voice spoke, a terrible cloud of malice traveling with the words. …”Hello, Christian,” it spat at her.

…”Just what makes you so different, CHRISTIAN?” the voice growled, as Christy stared hard at the garage door, swallowing hard. Why was that terrible creature asking her such a question when she was a devout Catholic, and everyone knew it?

Mom always told me that I could be attacked because of my strong faith, Christy thought. I guess she’s right. Maybe I should say something out loud but not talk to this…thing. Silently, Christy made the sign of the cross as reverently as she could and said, “Oh my Jesus, I adore you. You died for my sins and paid the ultimate price for me. I desire only to live my life in your service and to be a simple child of God, above all things. Please help me to do this, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

As soon as she voice spoke those words, the cold feeling and the strange swirling energy left the garage.

Christy soon forgot about the incident, but it did leave questions in her mind. She dismissed the event as a figment of her overworked mind and active imagination.

That Sunday at church, Father Patrick’s homily was about showing ourselves to the world as Catholics, as a part of God’s people, His chosen people. As Father Patrick said these words, Christy felt her heart do a flip-flop. It was as though God was speaking to her personally through her parish priest!

Father said, “What is it about us as Catholics that sets us apart from others? How do we show others what makes us different as Christians?”

Suddenly, the words spoken to her in the garage made perfect sense. While they were an attack from the Enemy, for Christy, they served as a useful rebuke. She did have a responsibility to act in way that set herself apart from others in a world that spoke and did things that she knew were evil. She realized that in speaking words as she did that day in the garage, she defiled herself, and that invited an attack. Maybe I‘d better get a handle on my speech, Christy thought, and get some holy water for the garage. I will confess that I used the Lord’s name in vain, and make a new pattern for myself.

…”I really am part of God’s people.” She said to herself. “That DOES make me different, and I have to BE different because of it.” Smiling, Christy sipped her coffee, planning the rest of her day.

Hi All,

This weekend I learned a few powerful lessons:

1) Every human person has physical and emotional limitations. Mine are that I cannot work six days a week sans breaks without dropping into a tear-stained frenzy on the seventh day.

2) When you are in a state of exaustion, it is wise not to broach sensitive issues with loved ones, who may also be experiencing their own personal burnout.

3) The concept of burnout is not new to parents of twins under the age of ten, they just have learned to weather the little tazmanians better!!! (I apparently am still mastering the art of holding down the couch).

4) God did not intend for me to be a work-aholic, super-ambitious, or to vault myself forcefully against any glass ceiling.

5) Why would I want to hurl myself against a glass ceiling when I’ll just come home to laundry, toilet scrubbing and picking up after all the wild inhabitants of my own personal biosphere?

6) When I force myself to function at a pace my body or psyche will not allow, God always attempts to stop me in my tracks.He may try benign moves at first, like allowing me to get a cold, but if this doesn’t work, I will be contacted by the Big Guy in a different manner. This may mean that I will have to endure physical pain so that I will SLOW down and remember what is truly important. Toilet stains be hanged, God’s work and my relationship with Him is more important.

So until I learn that I actually am NOT Superwoman, I am going to be working on being more still inside, so that I can hear God’s voice. I will learn to say “NO” I will try not to be a perfectionist in my own home. I will listen when friends say they came over to see me, not my house…And I will listen to my spouse when he tells me I need to take more time for myself. Do any of those promises to myself sound like some you’ve made to yourself?

In this day and age, it seems like a blessing to be locked out of your email because of hackers, or to have lost your cell phone, or to not be available for fencing lessons for your ten-year-old because of pressing family needs. Where have we gone as a society when the technology that seemingly helps us to be closer actually pushes us apart? Militant anti-social networking devotees may say to your face that they have read how people who twitter, facebook, myspace, etc. actually report being more lonely than those who don’t. Maybe the facebooker is “busier” than those who live life sans online social networking, but I say the people who are truly busy are the ones serving others as God commanded us to do.

God Bless,

Nancy

Walking past the entrance of a local department store, I spied a trio of homeless people. The first was a young man in his late twenties, dirty, dressed in rags. His face was heavily whiskered, but his eyes were bright and intelligent. I could tell that this was a bright young man, but that thought was buffeted by the young man’s hair, which stood on end, giving him a crazed look. He looked me straight in the eye and smiled. I tried to smile back, but inside I was wondering if he was going to ask me for money. I scurried past, avoiding any possible conversation.

The woman and her husband were in their early forties, or maybe even fifties. It was hard to tell, because they both looked so haggard. The lady would have been pretty if she still had her teeth. Her face was absent of the softness so many women have from eating regularly. Instead, her jawline was angular, and severe. I had seen her many times before, outside the drugstore, near the grocery store. When I saw her, I wanted to hide because…well, I think I felt guilty for passing her by, and not helping.

What struck me the most was that the young man had no hope. He was the very image of one who had been scorned by people so much that he was now…scorn. He was the deserted man who was possibly unloved by his parents, or one who had made all the wrong choices, or the boy who had been painfully abused and was now forgotten by all who passed him on the street.

As I got into my car, I thought, “What is wrong with me?! Here I have twenty dollars in my purse and only need one for a pop tomorrow at work. Why couldn’t I help these people now?” I slowly angled my car toward the bench where the homeless woman sat, waiting for someone to care about her. I realized, I care!

As I approached, I said, “Excuse me, are you down on your luck?” The woman practically ran to my car as the young man sat on the bare pavement beside her, staring into space.

“You could definitely say that!” she responded, and smiled. Her eyes were kind, and all of a sudden I felt her pain like a punch in the gut. Her eyes told me that her life had been so very hard. I handed her ten dollars. “Wow, thank you so much!” she beamed.

I swallowed and gathered my courage. “I just wanted to tell you that God has a plan for your life. He loves you very much, and it might not seem like it, but He has definite plans for you.” Her eyes immediately filled with tears, and the woman struggled to keep her composure.”Thank you,” she choked out, “Thank you.”

I handed her a five. “Will you give this to that man?” She nodded. …”And tell him what I told you? Promise?” The lady nodded her head, straightened up, and said in a cheery voice, “I will !” I felt at that moment like I was seeing her for the first time. She was not the homeless lady at the store anymore. She was a…fellow human being, someone I cared about.

As I drove home, I could hardly keep from crying. I cried because of the young man’s lost youth, the woman’s pain that I felt so keenly as if it were my own. God had shown me her pain for a reason. How had I passed them so many times before, thinking about how they should just “get a job?” What a fool I was!

Now I know I am practically the luckiest lady on the planet: I have never, ever had to worry about shelter, or food, or dental care. My clothes are clean, and we live in a decent house with heat and running water. I could just as easily have been the woman I saw today, but by a rather strange twist, here I am typing on this computer instead. So I spent a few minutes, crying and praying that God would begin to change the lives of the three homeless people I saw today.

Jesus had been scorned by those He thought loved Him and were His friends. Today, I started to understand how we can see the face of Jesus in those who are suffering, especially those who are forgotten. The begger who is scorned may know Jesus better than we do.

God Bless,

Nancy :>)

I love the weeks following the resurrection, when Father Michael blesses everyone with the Holy Water of Easter during the Gloria. I have been experiencing such physical pain today that I asked God, “Please, Lord, could I get extra today? I just really want to feel those beautiful drops of the blessed water on my skin. Please, Lord?” God must have thought that was a great idea, because seconds later, our priest walked by and I felt many, many droplets touch my skin. I felt amazing and for a moment, I forgot my pain.

Later, during the consecration, I reminded myself that Jesus is among us! The bells rang out as Father Michael raised the host, now the body of our Savior, Jesus. He did the same for the cup of blood. We bowed our heads out of respect, adoration, and love for the great gift Jesus has given us. This moment never fails to move me to tears, as I realized that He is here, my Lord and my God. I lifted my eyes and gaze at Jesus, in all of His glory. Sometimes it is hard to speak the words I know are so true, that I am not worthy of Jesus coming to me, but with His words, my soul will forever be changed, forever healed and a part of my Jesus.

Jesus, how I adore you!

I pictured in my mind what it would be like to meet Him in person, like I do many times. Inevitably I hear myself sobbing tears of joy as I hug my best friend, and His gentle voice tells me to cry no more. I cling to His robe and we walk together. He whispers words to me that only I need to hear, words that will heal and sustain  me. These are words that every human heart can hear, but are inaudible.

Although I have received the Body and the Blood many, many times in my life, I want so much to receive Him now, and for Him to cover my entire being with His presence. My ears are hearing music that seems to go deeper into my consciousness than just to my brain. The music, and the words of praise seep deep into my soul. I look around, and can feel how we as a church are one in our being with Christ, and with one another. The church is filled with love and joy.

As I await my turn for communion, I notice how many people are singing in our humble little church, and not softly, either. The people are so gladly giving of themselves to lift up others, and to encourage them to give their voices to God, too. The Holy Spirit of God has filled this gathering, and infused it with such energy, and His light radiates throughout the entire congregation. I love this church, it is my home.

Thank you, God for the gift of your Son, O Most Beautiful Jesus!

Hello,

Today as I look around the school where I work, I am very troubled by what I see and hear. I am often shocked when I encounter young women dressed inappropriately, and I cringe when I hear the voices of young men speaking with profanity so casually. These young people, in the prime of their lives are literally playing with fire and don’t know it. Or am I just an old fogey and need to “get with it”?

While walking down the hallway at an area high school on day, I chanced upon a young lady who I thought must have made a serious mistake in her clothing choice. Maybe the light in her closet was malfunctioning? The manufacturers of her skirt had also apparently written down the wrong measurement for the length of the garment. The young lady wore high heels, and sadly, the skirt barely grazed the top of her leg. Did she forget the rest of her skirt and leave it at home? Even more surprising was the fact that this particular student appeared to be unfazed by the constant stares she was receiving from her fellow students. Why did her parents let this young girl leave the house in such a getup? Did they even know what she was wearing? Why wasn’t she sent home by teachers or administrators? Didn’t she know her clothes sent a very negative message about her present state of moral virtue? Did she want to be looked at like that? Is this the new norm?

I took a long look at all of the stuff happening in our society and decided I just needed some new rules so I could shed my unrealistic expectations and get on with my life.  So, here they are!

The new norms: (Get ready, this is a long list):

1)      Spoil your kid by a “no chore rule” so they are unable to hold any responsibilities without a major, life-changing shock.

2)      Don’t try to modulate your child’s behavior, it’s useless anyway. Kids will be kids!

3)      TV and movies are good, and lots of it! Don’t trouble yourself by trying to screen out “objectionable” programming. After all, most kids will see these shows and movies sooner or later, so why not make it sooner?

4)      Be sure to stock up on popular clothing styles guaranteed to make your kid just as popular as the clothes, (but for the wrong reasons, oops)! Remember, both the necklines and pant lines need to be low, but hemlines should be high. Don’t embarrass your kid by expecting them to dress modestly. Besides, there are very few clothing retailers that design clothing for the Amish.

5)      How about a cell phone for your second grader? It’s the perfect gift and you will never have to answer the phone for anyone else’s calls again. Problem solved! Be sure to set up text messaging too, but don’t poke your nose into that. After all, the texter/textee might be someone your kid met online, and privacy among friends is important.

6)      Never say “No.” It’s just too painful to endure.

7)      Activities! Activities! Activities! Down time is over-rated, and grooming little Susie to be a professional dancer or athlete is just as realistic as the cash you are able to spend. You may not be able to donate as generously to your church as in the past, but Susie will be able to pirouette up to the altar to the surprise and admiration of everyone in church. Wow, even the grandparents and extended family she hasn’t seen in ages will be impressed!

8)      By all means, make the popular conversational catch phrases part of your daily language, so you can sound cool, too. These include the standard four-letter words, along with a generous helping of blasphemy, taking of oaths, etc…Just practice these enough to sound natural at it.

9)      Generously allow lots of unsupervised time online.

10)   Never correct your kid’s choice of words, unless you happen to be in church.

11)   Please remember that young people are frequently embarrassed by a subdued sense of materialism. More is more!!! Nothing impresses others quite like the glitz and glamour of a new house, car, clothes, etc…..even if you haven’t figured out how to pay for it. Your kid will love the elevated status and admiration from their peers, for doing absolutely nothing!!!

12)   Life is short. Make the best of your “career years” by making as much “green” as possible. Your kids will show they understand that you are never home. Their friends “Jack Daniels” and “Jim Beam” will too.

13)   Never let a birthday pass without spending a boatload of cash on a fancy party. Do it up right, because their peers are watching!!!

14)   Never pass up a chance to peruse the local mall in search of…whatever.

15)   Forget spending time teaching religion to your kids. Let them figure it out as adults, when they will understand it all.

16)   When dinner is ready, enjoy it sans prayers of thanksgiving. After all, your hard earned dollars put the food on the table, right?

17)   Get this straight: Christmas is good for the national economy, and the earlier your kids learn this fact, the better. Be sure to research the latest and best toys so Billy or Sally can brag to their friends about their latest material fascination. Just remember to say, “Happy Holidays!”

18)   Where have you been? There is no good music out there, so turn on the radio, and grin/bear it while your kid raps about subjects you would never talk about at the dinner table. They don’t understand the words, right?

19)   Patiently and sweetly correct little Johnny when he says he won’t go to church, ‘cause he’s tired today. Tell him, “No, pumpkin, the word is BE-CAUSE.”

20)   Don’t worry when your kid takes the name of the Lord in vain. That’s what it is for, right? To add emphasis? Man, is that kid is getting good at public speaking or what?!

21)   Ditch the Bible and get some good books to read. I hear you can download some really cool stories with lots of supernatural stuff!

22)   Tell all your friends that Jesus was a really cool dude, but way too radical.

23)   Never wear your crucifix, or talk about your beliefs. If you lean to the right, you can buy a lift for your other shoe, so you can at least appear to be leaning left, or possibly look more moderate.

24)   You can have it all! Honest!!!!

25)   This truth is critical: You are in control of your life, not God, or anybody else.

26)   Electronics are the aurors of the modern world. Look to them as the mystical powers they are, for life’s problems. Just yesterday I searched,” Why do I feel so empty?” and learned sooo much!

27)   Truth? There is no truth! Now scat so I can update my status to “Pensive.”

Okay, okay, I know I went a bit too far in communicating my constant state of shock over our world today. Maybe it’s because I’m a parent now. Maybe it’s because I want so much for my girls to grow up in a world where they could be respected as the individuals they are, not for what they have or how they dress. I want them to know that God is real, not a fable. He created them for His greater glory, not for theirs. I am not against responsible use of the internet, birthday parties, or cell phones, or gymnastics. I am just irritated that my babies have to walk by a gigantic billboard of a lady in her underwear at the mall on our way to buy Easter dresses. I refuse to take my kids to the grocery store where they will be sure to spy the latest cover of a smutty magazine, and I do complain when I see merchandise best left for adults at eye level in a store. Maybe I’m a fuddy-duddy, but I like it, and when I complain to the store manager about not covering up magazines no children should see, God probably says to Himself, …

“That’s my Church-Lady! Atta girl!!!”

Hello Friends,

Today I realized that when we cry, God cries with us, and is present through our suffering. This morning I attempted a semblance of a ‘normal’ workout, after being sidelined for 2 weeks with a back injury. God has humbled me, because I am now as weak as a kitten. I can’t pedal a stationery bike without back pain, can’t walk slowly on a treadmill for more than 5 minutes, and even standard stretches were excruciatingly painful. As I left the gym, I cried in frustration, and I felt afraid that I would be permanently disabled.

I switched on the radio, and what did I hear? A priest was speaking on reconciliation, and how many,many people end up crying during confession. He says the tears are usually tears of contrition, tears that say we know that sinning was our fault. A light bulb went off in my head, and I realized I was crying because I had taken all those years of good back health for granted. I had not exercised as hard as I should, to strengthen myself, which I desperately needed after other spinal injuries. Was my pain my fault entirely? No, but my own negligence had likely exacerbated the weakness in my spine, leading to this episode. Now I will just have to do what I can and leave the rest to God. Whether I recover, or retain my weakness and pain is up to Him, but I know I won’t suffer alone. Jesus holds the entire human race in His heavenly hands and loves us all through our pain and our trials. He so desires a “oneness” with us. Maybe it takes a bad injury for somebody like me to look up and say, “Hey, Lord, What are you gonna do with me?” or “What gives, Lord?” but if God ordains my suffering as something that will benefit my soul then bring it on. Yes, I’m a big cry-baby sometimes, but it’s a great comfort knowing that one day Jesus will dry my tears.

God Bless,

Nancy

Happy Octave of Easter !

Today is a new day. A new beginning, when we can start all over with a new heart. What an incredible gift each waking moment is, each sunrise, every smile we receive from others, every breath we take.

I’m waxing philosophical today because for the first day in 2 weeks, I was able to get dressed and ready to greet my day this morning without extreme pain. Yes, I’m still walking with my upper torso tweaked to the opposite side, but I haven’t cried once because of the pain. It’s still there, but I have tried very hard to make it a habit to offer my suffering up to God. I’m very thankful that my back is starting to heal itself after my last flare-up.

My question to you is, are there situations in your life which really make you feel uncomfortable? Maybe you are not experiencing physical pain, but the psychological effect of emotional or moral suffering can be just as challenging. So – try this: Every time you are tempted to complain to others about your situation, offer it up to God in unity with the sufferings of Jesus. Since the memory of Christ’s pain is so fresh to us this Easter season, your offering will be a bit of “resurrection” in your life. While God may not take away the painful circumstances that limit us, our chance to think of our situation as something we go through with God puts everything in a new light. Think how much your suffering is worth as the most precious commodity on earth. It puts us closer to God the Father and God the Son. I promise you that if you do this, God the Holy Spirit will fill you within this season of your life, giving you greater faith and renewal.

God Bless,

Nancy