A Letter to My Daughter

(Here, I share my heart- a letter to my 2nd daughter about a very trying time for her and for our family. It is a personal documentation of the emotions, spiritual journey, and God's action that we felt surrounding us in our most desperate moments. I feel humbled by this entire experience, and hesitate to share it publicly. If anything, I pray that you will see, from reading this, the incredible ways that the Lord uses others to answer prayers, and how only when we surrender, can our eyes be opened to His action...for He is always there, but we cannot always see Him. I removed personal names and details for the purpose of this blog.)
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To my Darling Daughter,
The events that have transpired these past couple weeks together form an incredible journey of faith. Not even 3 years old yet, I fear that your memory of these days will be traumatic. I do not blame you. What you have been through I would not wish on any human, except for myself, if it would have meant that you would not have to suffer. And so, I record all that has happened here, so that one day you, too, may appreciate and recognize the amazing way the Father and Holy Mother have worked in your life during this time, and how very special you are to them.

Approximately three months ago, you fell ill with your first evident kidney infection. Over 5 days time, your fever fluctuated between 101 and 104, with no other obvious symptoms. Having been through a similar experience with your baby sister, I immediately recognized it as a kidney infection and sought treatment. Once healed, we took you to your baby sister's specialist (we had discovered 5 months ago that she has level 4 bilateral VUR, or kidney reflux). A quick ultrasound revealed that you have one kidney significantly smaller than the other, which may be that way from birth, or it may be a result of VUR. Dr. P sent you for a VCUG, and sure enough we discovered you also had bilateral reflux (level 3 on the left, level 4 on the right, with a possible extra ureter on the right). In the meantime, you suffered 2 more severe kidney infections. Dr. P recommended, and we agreed, that due to your already hurt kidney, we needed to “do something” about the reflux. We prayed and prayed about our two options, although we knew deep down which one was right. Deflux (an outpatient procedure) would have only a 50% chance of working on both sides to correct the reflux, while open surgery would have a 96% chance of correcting the reflux. We choose the surgery, and felt confident that was the Lord’s will. We still feel confident of that. We scheduled the surgery for April 29th, and administered a daily low dose of antibiotic in the meantime to prevent infections.

We felt a great deal of peace about your upcoming surgery. At the same time, I had also heard the voice of the Lord ask me if I was willing to suffer. I said “yes.” Who can say “no” to such a loving Lord? In Adoration, praying about your surgery, we both felt confident that the Lord was walking with us, and would see you through it. I cannot describe to you the immense amount of peace we felt. When we would tell people about your upcoming surgery, they would wonder why we seemed so mellow about it. We were leaning on God. But never once did we flinch…that is, until 1 week prior to surgery day.

It was Good Friday, and I was laying down with your baby sister for a nap. All of the sudden, as if out of no where, I felt anxiety wash over me like a tidal wave. I became scared, frightened, and felt alone. When I revealed my fears to your Daddy, he confessed he was struggling the same way that day. We made a joint decision to rely even more heavily on the Lord. We felt strongly that we were doing His will.

The day of your surgery came. The time of your surgery kept changing, but we ended up arriving at 8am. Big Sister was with Nana and Pop-pop, and Baby Sister was with Grandma. Everyone was praying for you, including countless prayer lists, communities of religious, family, and friends. You were surprisingly chipper that morning. The nurses in pre-op simply adored you. For the few weeks before, Daddy and I had been preparing you mentally for what was to come, describing what was to happen at the hospital, and that your mommy and daddy would be with you. I had also told you that there would be one part of the day that mommy could NOT be with you (when you would go back for the surgery), but that Mother Mary would hold you then. You would light up, eyes glowing, saying “Mary? Really?” and then diving in for a big hug.

We waited…and waited…and waited. Your surgery, the last we had heard, was to be at 10am. We didn’t know it at the time, but your surgery actually ended up being exactly from noon until 3pm, on the nose. The hours of the crucifixion.
They gave you versed to make you sleepy. You allowed the child life specialist to carry you to the doors, where we said good bye to you. We were not allowed to follow. I was holding strong as you were carried away from me…until you called out “MOMMY!”- I lost it. My own mom was right next to me. She knew the pain, she anticipated it, and seeing my face she grabbed me for a hug. I didn’t let go.
During your surgery, we prayed, we ate, we prayed some more. A friend, Mr. Michael, brought us coffee (a welcomed distraction). Grandma sat with us, baby sister asleep. Every once in a while the woman at the desk would call us over and give us an update from the OR, but never with much information. Then, at 3pm, we received news that the surgery was over and Dr. P would be out shortly to talk with us.

Dr. P called us to a “family consultation room.” He reported that you had done very well, but for some reason you bleed an unusual amount. He said he cleaned it up but couldn’t figure out why you “oozed” so much. Other than that, the surgery had been successful, and you would wake up soon.

Daddy and I, relieved, were escorted back to post-op to see you. Our sweet baby, sound asleep with an oxygen mask near your head, heart monitors beeping, and an IV dripping. Your face was swollen from the saline. When you started to stir, you wanted me close, so I leaned over and “held” you in the cradle (it was at that time we requested that you be moved to a twin bed, so we could lay with you).
Your recovery that night and the next day was slow. Your catheter came out Saturday morning. You bled a great deal. You were very grumpy (I would have been, too!). At one point, you became irate with me. You said that Mary did NOT hold you, and that you did NOT see her in your surgery. I assured you that she was definitely there, even if you didn’t see her. I confess I was disappointed that you did not remember her, and even more so that you felt I had lied to you.

We stayed an extra night because you weren’t doing as well as we, and the Dr., would have liked. Sunday morning we were discharged and came home.

The day progressed, but you did not. You vomited frequently, refused food and water, and gushed blood with your urine. Daddy and I were worried. Monday morning we told Dr. P, and he became concerned and told us to come to his office. An ultrasound showed swollen kidneys, a full bladder, and you would not empty it. He catheterized you, and it immediately drained a large amount of blood. Concerned about your blood loss and inflammation, he sternly recommended that we head straight for the hospital. Daddy and I prayed, but the knot in our stomachs would not go away. You were our little baby, and to see you suffering was more than we felt we could bear.

Upon arrival, we were admitted immediately, blood was drawn (with some difficultly since your veins were not easy to find), and they tried desperately to insert an IV. You were extremely dehydrated, so your veins were not cooperating. They brought in 3 different IV teams, even 1 from the PICU. Each time they stuck you (in the hand, arm, and foot), you cried out in pain, “NO, MOMMY! PLEASE TAKE ME HOME RIGHT NOW! WHY DO THIS, MOMMY? NOOOOOO!” Luciana, words cannot describe the pain that filled my heart when you cried out those words. There I was, your mother, doing what I knew we had to do to save your life, yet you did not understand…you just thought your mommy and daddy were not rescuing you. This was an enormous cross for us both.

Finally, they got an IV in, although the connection was weak (they would have to find another port in surgery). The nurse assigned to us those few hours was very compassionate. She gave us a head’s up that you might need a blood transfusion, and that the Dr. P would be calling us shortly. The phone in our room rang. I answered.

Dr. P: “Ms Ferrante, I have the blood results.”
Me: “Yes?”
Dr. P: “They are not good. In fact, they are very bad.”
(I was silent…listening for more…bracing myself for the words that were about to come through the phone line into my ear)
Dr. P: “Her hemoglobin should be 10 or over, but it is a 5. She has lost too much blood and needs a transfusion.”
Me, surrending: “Okay.”
Dr. P: “I do not know why she bled so much. I’m afraid I need to take her back to the OR. I will try to find the cause of the bleed. I will first try to use a scoop, so as to avoid opening her back up, and try to cauterize any bleeds that way, but I might have to re-open her. Also, the test shows that her kidneys are not draining, so when I get in there and see the level swelling we’re facing, I may have to insert some stents in the ureters to hold them open and allow proper draining. Those would have to come out later.”
Me, surrendering again: “Okay.”
Dr. P: “Ms Ferrante, I have never seen this happen before. I do not know why it happened. I am so sorry. She bled a lot in her surgery last Friday, I thought I got it all, but I missed something. I am so sorry. But, this is the reality right now, we have to accept it, and I’m going to do everything to fix it now.”
Me: “Okay. Yes. Matt and I want to do whatever is necessary for our baby girl.”
Dr. P: “The OR is telling me they can give me a room at 7:30pm.”
Me: “Okay. Thank you, Dr. P.”
Dr. P, somber: “I’m sorry. See you soon.”

I hung up the phone. Your Daddy stood in front of me, apprehensive of the information he knew I was about to relay to him. I hugged him close, and whispered all in his ear. We hugged, and cried, then we looked at you and cried some more. Then I grabbed my cell phone and began trying to track down a priest to come be with us, hoping one could bless you before your surgery. Everyone was so concerned for you. News to pray for you spread like wildfire. Our families were praying, my brother the seminarian had his entire community and everyone he knows praying, entire religious communities were praying, priests, friends, our Regnum Christi teams hearded together...we were covered in prayer. I called Grandma (who had just returned to Maryland that morning), and she caught first flight back to Charlotte. She would arrive just as your surgery was ending.

At 7:45, they were preparing to wheel you back. I ran out to the waiting room to update Nana and Pop-pop, and to briefly tell Isabella what was happening (trying not to scare her…oh how she was so concerned for you). Jill, a dear friend, was there. She came as soon as she had heard.

At 7:55 I ran back to your room, where they began to wheel you on a bed. I climbed into the bed and lay next to you, holding you. You were asleep. I stroked your cheek and pushed the hair back from your forehead. I kissed you tenderly, and prayed. I put my hand on your chest and felt your heart beating heavily beneath it. My mind, as if in a time-warp, went back to that night you were born, when you were not breathing, and I put my hand on your chest to feel your heart pounding in the same manner. All the emotion of that night rushed back to me as well. These were 2 times where I feared for your life, and they met in my heart.

We met up with Dr. P. He again apologized, and I said, “Take care of my baby.” We walked behind as they wheeled you down the hall. We stopped where we were not allowed to follow you. No one else was with us…the empty late night halls were eerie. We watched you until we couldn’t see you anymore, and the doors closed. Then, we turned, walked down the hall to the waiting room. As soon as we walked in, Jill was there and walked over to hug us. I burst out crying. I was so scared for you. I did not feel the Lord. Where was He? I knew He was there, but I did not feel Him.

Jill shared with us the same relics and rosaries that pulled her through her own son’s major heart surgery. We prayed the rosary together. During the rosary, head in my hands, I completely surrendered to the Lord. I said to Him, “My God, I KNOW that you are here. Even though I do not feel you, I BELIEVE that you are here…I KNOW that you are here. I KNOW that you would never abandon us. I do not ask for any consolation. I am content to suffer this aridity for your sake and the sake of your Kingdom. I firmly believe in you.”

It was only then, when I completely surrendered, and told the Lord that I did not want any consolation, that He revealed Himself to me. First, with His breath that rushed over me and surrounded me with peace. I felt Him holding me. Then (and this is all while we prayed the rosary), I asked his mother to be with us, but to especially be with you. I knew she was. I prayed that you would know she was there.

After the rosary, Daddy and I were much better equipped to suffer. You know, Mary suffered a great deal watching her own son suffer. We had received a phone call from the OR with the update that they had to open you up, but you were doing well. Another dear friend arrived with a meal. She had been with us earlier when we found out you would have to have surgery again. She gave me a crucifix to hold, and was such a comfort and support. Even she noticed, however, that upon this 2nd visit we were much more peaceful than when she had seen us earlier that day, crying at the news of the impending surgery. How blessed we were to have such good friends. Many more friends were praying and sacrificing from home, and, as I was later told, repeatedly refreshing their email accounts as they anxiously awaited an update.

We were deeply grateful to Jill for being with us, but assured her we would be alright if she needed to return home to her own family. She walked out of the waiting room and hit the elevator button…but turned back around and popped her head in to us. She said, “I smell roses! I smell roses! She’s here!” Mary was there! I ran to the hall way and breathed in the most beautiful and overwhelming scent of roses, and a smile came across my face. I whispered, “Thank you, Mary. Oh, thank you!” The smell filled the hall way leading to the doors where your surgery was. Later, I found out that at that same moment, a close friend had prayed that Mary would make herself physically known to us that night.

Soon thereafter, Fr. Rick arrived. He had come as soon as he could. His presence brought great comfort for us. It was 11pm before Dr. P came out to talk with us. He said he had expected to find something so “horrible” in there that was causing the bleeding…but all he found was a couple tiny bleeds in your bladder. He said it really doesn’t make sense…you should have had a big break in there somewhere. There was “no explanation.” (We immediately knew there was an explanation- Mary had begun to heal you before he got in there). He cauterized the couple small bleeds, and put stents in all 3 ureters (you do have 2 on the right side). Then he warned us of infection since the stents “cause reflux.”

Hold up. Reflux? The stents….CAUSE reflux?

“Hold on, Dr. P.…isn’t that what we came in here to fix in the first place,” I asked, somewhat amused at the irony. He assured us that the new reflux would be temporary…once the stents come out, you would be reflux-free.

We went back to see you. Wait, weren’t we just here? It was dejavous…only this time we knew how to make better use of our suffering. Trusting in the Lord doesn’t mean you are suddenly devoid of all ill-feeling. No. If anything, it means you feel it more strongly. I imagine Mary when the “sword” pierced her heart…the sword of seeing her son suffer. She was so close to him, so deeply united, that she suffered it, too. I felt your suffering, and then I also suffered the feeling of helplessness, of wanting to “make it stop” for you, but not having the ability or power.

You were waking up…but this time angrily. Poor sweetie, you had already been through so much. Settled into your room on the 9th floor, I watched you, torn. I was torn because I knew my baby at home needed to nurse, but how my heart wanted to be by your side and never leave you. Daddy stayed with you, but I had to go. That was the hardest thing in the world. I went home (it was after midnight), slept for a few hours, nursed your baby sister, and returned the hospital before daylight the next morning.

Whatever we thought was “difficult recovery” before was NOTHING compared to the “recovery” we now witnessed in you. You were BEYOND miserable! You cried, yelled, moaned, ordered us around. Nothing I could do would sooth you. In fact, you would even yell at me, “GO AWAY, Mommy! No want YOU, Mommy! Me want DADDY! GO AWAY! LEAVE!” I cannot describe to you now how much of a cross this was for me. I wanted NOTHING more than for you to WANT me, and to allow me to comfort you, and that you would be comforted by me. This was the most difficult part of the cross for me to carry. Afterall, I am you MOTHER...in my mind, you should be begging for me to hold you (and you did later- but for those few days, this was part of my purification). I thought of how much Jesus wants to be close to me, to help me, to guide me, and yet how often I push him away or ignore him, or neglect him. How much suffering that must cause him! This was a great exercise in patience for me. The first few times you yelled at me or pushed me away, I would get upset. It was so difficult! But I tempered myself, with God’s grace, and instead began to just stand at a distance. I understood that you were simply grasping to control whatever you could, since so much had happened against your control that week. I patiently waited until you felt you needed me. And yet, I did not leave…because I knew that should you decide you wanted me, I HAD to be near by. I was there FOR YOU, even if you didn’t want me…I would be there just in case you did. And then, I praised God that you had a strong relationship with your Daddy and that you felt safe with him.
Eventually, by the afternoon, you would ask me to hold you, or lay with you, and several days I would lay there up to 6 hours…holding you. This was the cycle that repeated almost every day you were in the hospital.

Tuesday night (24 hours after the 2nd surgery), you did not look good to me. Something (my guardian angel?) told me I needed to stay, but at the same time I knew your sister would need me at home to nurse (I had not nursed her, at times, for close to 6 hours- I had previously never left her as I do not believe in leaving my babies unless for emergency circumstances...this qualified). I did go home, nursed the baby, and then, following that inner instinct to return to you at the hospital, I gathered my things to return. Now there were severe thunderstorm warnings. These thunderstorms were capable of producing hail and tornadoes. I diligently watched the radar online, looking for a window to drive back to the hospital. I noticed that the more dangerous storms would pass by 10:30, even though my entire route back to the hospital would be covered in torrential downpour until after midnight. I decided to leave as soon as the worst was over, but prepared myself to drive in a downpour.

While I drove, I prayed. I cried out to my Father for help, for healing, for courage, and for peace. Extremely tired, and for fear of falling asleep while driving, I hit the radio on and “randomly” (is anything ever truly random?) selected the country music station. I don’t know why, I just did (or maybe someone else selected it for me?). A song was on (found out later it is by Rascal Flatts)…and I was immediately drawn to the words, and started to cry…for I knew my Father was speaking to me.

It’s like a storm
That cuts a path
It breaks your will
It feels like that

You think your lost
But your not lost on your own
Your not alone
I will stand by you
I will help you through
When you’ve done all you can do
If you can’t cope
I will dry your eyes
I will fight your fight
I will hold you tight
And I wont let go

It hurts my heart
To see you cry
I know it’s dark
This part of life
Oh it finds us all
And we’re too small
To stop the rain
Oh but when it rains

I will stand by you
I will help you through
When you’ve done all you can do
And you can’t cope
I will dry your eyes
I will fight your fight
I will hold you tight

I thanked Him for this great grace of hearing His voice in those lyrics. I also prayed that I could be that same support for you, my darling girl. These lyrics were, and are, my words to you, and they are Christ’s words to us both.
It was then that I noticed, not a drop of rain had fallen on my windshield. I had been driving for 20 minutes now, in what was supposed to be the downpour of the century, and not ONE DROP of rain was on my car! Everything was drenched around me. I immediately recognized this as a grace, that I didn’t have to drive in the rain…that the Lord was sparing me that minor inconvenience. Later, I would discover that some friends had been driving at the same time in the same area and were in terrible rain.

Several more times that week (I think 4 in total), did it happen where I was in the car (late at night or in the wee hours of the morning), praying a desperate cry to the Lord and I would turn the radio on to help me stay awake, and that same song would be playing. Every time, it made me cry because every time, I knew it was no coincidence.

Back to Tuesday night, when I felt something (my guardian angel…or yours) calling me back to the hospital. As it turned out, that was your most difficult night. Your catheter had to be removed because it was clogged and was not draining. You were in immense pain, and had not had a bowel movement. It was a very difficult night, for you, and for your daddy. I was glad I was there, not only for you, but because I knew your daddy needed me. How it pained him so much to see you suffer. This was a great cross for him, too.

Wednesday morning I emailed a desperate cry to a close group of friends, and they redoubled their prayers not only for you, but for me. I was feeling so weak. How fickle I am that I can have such an amazing and real experience of God’s presence and then turn around and allow myself to feel so alone! In my miserable humanness, I was feeling weak. I was feeling too weak to pray. I needed prayers. Let me just say that I am SO blessed to be surrounded by some amazing women. One friend,\who had recently been experiencing a total healing of her “hopeless” psoriasis and arthritis, and also of her past cancer, prayed that her healing be REVERSED for your sake. As soon as she prayed that, she felt her pain return (which she had only just been pain free for a few weeks…for the first time in years). It was also at about that time that things turned around for you, and for me. I felt a renewed sense of peace and strength, and you began to show improvement (albeit gradual).

Some friends, the Tortoriches, came with a gift for you: a statue of Mary, and a relic of the newly beatified John Paul II. When you saw the Mary statue, you held it close and tight. It was evident she was special to you. Then later, when your visitors had left, you turned to me rather non-chalantly and said, “Momma, Mary hold me when I was asleep (in surgery). We have to bring her roses when we get home.” Then you returned to watching your movie, with Mary by your side. I smiled a warm smile and whispered a quick yet heartfelt “thank you” to the Blessed Mother. Rest assured, you did give Mary 1 dozen red roses (in our grotto out back) when you returned home later that week.

So many people called, emailed, texted, prayed, and sacrificed. Every day we had fresh meals brought to us in the hospital by dear friends. It was a firsthand experience of how the Church is the Body of Christ. When one member is hurting, the whole body hurts, and seeks healing. See, Christ needs the members of His Church to be His vessels to each other.

Your big sister was deeply concerned for you all week. How she missed you at home! She prayed for you, drew pictures for you, and made plans to do special things to make you smile.

Deacon and Monsignor, from our Parish, came at different times to visit you. Every day, Grandma brought you baby sister for a visit, and Nana and Pop-pop came with Big Sister.

The nurses on the floor simply adored you, and treated you like a princess. To make you smile, we would talk to you about your 3rd birthday coming up, and you would leap into planning your “princess party.”

It was Saturday morning before we were discharged. You were grumpy, but we knew at that point you would heal better and more swiftly at home, especially since you were now independent of the IV. Uncomfortable though you were, you were happy to be heading home. You still had a catheter that was draining into a diaper. We would take it out a few days later (and then go get another one put in a few days after that…oh what a journey this has been!).

My darling girl, although you are barely 3 now, I hope by this letter that you will someday know more completely and accurately the events that transpired these past 2 weeks. I know it is not over, and there is much ahead…but one day, you will see that even as a young child you suffered for the Kingdom. You see, my dear child, suffering is necessary. The cross, your cross, is a very real and key part of your life. You were chosen, as not many are, to carry a special cross at a young age. Not only that, but it appears you were destined to belong to Mary from the very beginning. You were born in the month of May (the month of Mary), named “Regina” (your middle name), which means “Queen,” for Mary Queen of Heaven, your 2nd surgery and most of your recovery happened in May, and Mary was present in a very physical way with you during that time. In addition, at your birth, you did not breath for an agonizing 4 minutes, and it was the “Hail Mary” that I repeated again and again that brought your first breath. You belong to her, and you are precious in her sight.

I love you, my sweet girl, my Light. You are destined to be Christ’s Light in a darkened world.

Yours Forever,
Mommy

Daybook- Divine Mercy Sunday

I am wearing:
Jeans, short sleeve shirt, and a striped accent scarf. I'm sort of impressed with myself that I got up at 4:45 this morning and grabbing whatever I could find to wear still turned out to be a pretty decent outfit.

Ourside my window:
A temporarily quiet hospital piazza.

I am thinking:
About my darling daughter, there in the hospital bed, and how rough she's had it. It seems, though, that we've turned a corner and we expect to go home later this morning. Oh how happy that little girl will be to go home!

I am feeling:
Nothing can describd the sick feeling of a parent who has to watch their child suffer. Just thinking about what she's been through makes the memory rush over me....the memory of her crouched in pain, crying out, and yet pushing us away. She knew she hurt, but she didn't know how to make it better, and on some level she knew we couldn't make it better either. Oh how Mary must have suffered seeing her son in immense pain, and she couldn't run to him to make it better.

I am listening:To the now very familiar sound of an IV machine.

I am praying:
*For mercy.
*For continued patience as we transition our baby home and the rough road of recovery ahead. For Darling girl to heal swiftly.
*For an increased admiration for the life of Blessed John Paul the Great!
*For my Godson, with the shining soul fresh out of his first confession, and for his preparation for receiving Our Precious Lord in the Eucharist
*For my soon-to-be god-daughter, due to enter the bright world any day now (technically due next weekend)

I am grateful:
*For Divine Mercy!
*For BLESSED JOHN PAUL II!!!!!!
*For dear friends who have gone out of their way to let us know about their prayers, concern, and support.
*For family who have gone out of their way to help this weekend, especially in the care of our other children during this time
*For coffee
*For a cheerful 11 month old who has coped so well with my absence (although her night nursing picked up when I went home to sleep this weekend!)
*For my 3 little girls and their amazing bond of sisterhood that is apparent this weekend- their love, support, and desire to share their experiences together.
*For a husband who has spend 2 nights "sleeping" (if you can call it that) in a chair next to a hospital bed.
*For the schedule of meals coming to us all week!
*For this blog and the inspiration to write in it....even if no one is reading it, it is helping me to type out my emotions, thoughts, and reflections.

I am creating:
Absolutely nothing- but once we're through this rough patch, I'm sure I'll think of something! I suppose that's not entirely true- I'm very poorly creating this blog post right now!

I am reading:
Still working on the "Life of Mary." Although, I have not had much time for that with all the reading of hospital papers going on around here.

This week's life lesson: Surrender

With a child about to enter an open surgery, I have felt the rug has been pulled out from under me. For weeks, I have felt quite at peace with this apparent cross, until this week that is....that's when it hit. The Lord has allowed me to feel helpless, to feel fear, to lose control. And yet, I know He is near because just when all seems lost...when I feel totally overcome by my fears, alone...helpless...and I'm at that moment when I choose to surrender, and I tell Him to do with me as He wills: then, He reaches out and touches me.

How was I touched by the hand of Christ today? Because right in that moment of helplessness when I agreed to surrender to His will completely, I received an email. An amazing group of women informed me that they arranged an hour by hour prayer vigil for our family all day tomorrow. Every single hour of the day someone will be praying or sacrificing some part of that hour for our family! Not only that, but there will be Masses, Holy Hours, and personal sacrifices offered throughout the weekend. And there's more- they are bringing me meals, some from an hour away, every single day next week!

What did I ever do to deserve such supernaturally generous friends? I am touched most of all by how the Lord uses the individual members of His universal Church to be His arms to comfort and His words to encourage and guide another. And oh how grateful I am for these friends that I really don't deserve.

And so, today's lesson: only when we surrender can the Lord reveal Himself and send His graces.

Daybook- a Monday (or Sunday evening) ritual

I am wearing:
Light weight pajama pants and a plain white t-shirt on this warm Easter evening!

I am thinking:
How grateful I am that Jesus my Lord is Risen! And how nice it is to finally say ALLELUIA again! Also how blessed I am to have had a houseful of family and friends on this joyous occasion. Since moving here (away from family) almost 4 years ago, Easter Sundays have been a bit more lonely than what we had been used to. But not today! Today, my home echoed with friendly chatter, laughter, children playing, dishes clanging, and wine glasses tinkering. My parents and younger brother and sister are in town, and we had some friends over, too. Such a lovely Easter Sunday, to add to the joy of the Resurrection!

In the Kitchen:
Evidence of our wonderful Easter Feast of Roast Leg of Lamb, potatoes, asparagus, salad, and an amazing dairy-free carrot cake with...wait for it....drum roll...delicious dairy free coconut frosting that we (my mom and I) creatively improvised! I'll try to post the end-recipe later.


I am grateful for:
* That Jesus Christ conquered sin and death and the hope He therefore brings me!
* A loving husband
* The shining eyes of my 5 year old when she exclaimed "Alleluia! He is Risen!" today, and her reverence for which she bows her head to pray the rosary, as well as how beautifully she participates in the Mass.
* The squeals from my almost 3 year old every time she found an egg...you'd think she won the lottery, when really each egg had a few cents in it! Ah, the simple joys of childhood.
* an excited 5 year old feeling special after a neighborhood walk alone with her Granddad
* Our 11 month old girlie on her first Easter, and her cute chubby feet that won't fit into any Easter shoes
*Mornings at a park with a beautiful lake and a plethora of wildlife to obesrve

Toward Rhythem and Beauty:
Rhythm is pretty much going out the door for a few weeks. Grandma is in town, and so are Aunt K and Uncle T (ages 11 and 9). Then, darling daughter #2 has surgery on Friday, therefore putting any simblance of "routine" out the window for a while...but giving me plenty of good time to explore beauty around us with the kids, especially while tending to our organic gardens!

I am reading:
"The Life of Mary As Seen by the Mystics."
Its not required "Catholic" belief, but its not incompatible with it either, as the Holy Church has deemed. I find it to be enriching my personal relationship with the Blessed Mother.

I am praying:
For a smooth prep, surgery, and recovery for my sweet little girl. A couple hour surgery for a wee one is no parent's dream. And yet, I am grateful for good medical treatment for her situation. It will be a painful recovery, but God will get us through. I'll suffer it right along with her. I wish I could suffer it FOR her. My sweet baby. Here she is:



I am creating:
Space in my house! I have been accomplishing, gradually, what I call "THE BIG PURGE." Can you guess what I've been doing? SIMPLIFYING my surroundings! Ridding our house of excess "stuff." Of course, I have to do this when my loving husband can take the kids out for a few hours so they don't see me throwing things away. When they come home, they are amazed and excited at the reorganization and have no idea that anything is missing!

Precious Moments in Time:






My children with their aunt and uncle (my little brother and sister) on Easter Morning.


Our Family: Easter 2011

I hear you call my name....

How long have you waited for me, Lord? How many times have I turned a blind eye to your Holy presence as I drive past your chapel, knowing you are there, and not really having a good reason not to stop in. Oh, the excuses I come up with. But you are there...waiting for me...hoping that I will turn the wheel and visit with you, if but for a moment.

Today as we were driving on the other side of town, I passed by a Church that I know to have perpetual Adoration. I made a mental note to stop by for a visit on our way home, as we would be returning by the same route. How many times have I made such mental notes? Many. How many times have I followed through? I'm too embarrassed to say. But today, Lord. Today was different. We left our activity on time (on time to avoid an impending rain shower). On the way home, there it was...the turning lane into the Church, and there was no oncoming traffic that I would have to wait for. The kids were happy in the back. It was not raining yet. I had no excuses, and before I could give myself time to create one, I turned into the parking lot. I had no idea where the Adoration chapel was, but you guided me to you. I felt you calling me. I gave up looking for it and just choose a parking spot by a far building. Only after I parked and got all 3 kids out of the car did I see you had brought me right to your chapel. We made a visit with you. Oh, the highlight of my day! You have so much you want to give me. So many graces await. Yet you wait for me to respond to your call before you can shower them upon me. That one little stop today changed me. No excuses will ever suffice.



I have heard you calling my name for a while now. Calling me to bring all of myself to you in the Blessed Sacrament. Calling me to spend only ONE short hour a week with the King of the Universe. But have I come? No. I hear my excuses echoing now. They pain me almost as much as they pain you to hear, Lord. "I need my sleep." "We need our family time." "I have young children, I can't get time away" (but have I tried?). "I have too much to do at home." "I love to stop in, but to commit to one hour every week is just too much."

TOO MUCH? Too much for you who have given EVERYTHING for ME?

Lord how I need your grace. Sustain me, Lord. Don't stop calling me. I have now signed up for my hour. I did not choose the hour. You choose it for me. It happened this way, and I accept it because I know you prescribed it. You know what I need better than I do. 5:00am on Friday mornings, Lord. In the quiet wee hours of the morning, I'll see you there, kids tucked in at home with their father, I will curl up in the lap of my Father. I cannot wait. I know it will get tough. I know I will be tempted to hit the snooze button. I know I will be tempted to get someone else to take my place. But you have chosen ME for that hour, Lord. I can only fulfill my call with your help.

Jesus, My Lord, My God, My All, sustain me with your Holy Eucharist.

Facebook: Is it Really Connecting People?

Facebook's big claim is that they "connect people." I find myself pondering, "does it? I mean, it might make your personal life public, and provide you the opportunity to snoop into everyone else's personal life...but does it really CONNECT people?"

It interesting, I read an article in Business Week the other day (now that my husband is in graduate school we receive this and the Wall Street Journal- both of which I have come to enjoy reading the educated jargon and witty exposes). The primary intention of the article I don't remember, but what struck me was its argument that Facebook's PRIMARY contribution to the evolution of mankind was the science of advertising. They use everything in your profile, everything on your 'wall,' to determine what ads *YOU* would be most likely to click on. Clever, crafty, and quite manipulative. Instead of hiring people that could really use Facebook technology to further the human race (put to good use, say, to find cures for cancer, as the article brought to question), instead, Facebook spends most of its hiring energy and salary awarding looking for people who can manipulate users into clicking on ads.

Anyhow, now that we've established that Facebook's intentions aren't quite as pure as they claim, lets examine my original question. Does it CONNECT people? Facebook provides an opportunity, indeed, to get back in touch with friends, co-workers, acquaintances from your past (it also provides the opportunity to get back in touch with old boyfriends/girlfriends, which you may have seen in some news reports is damaging to marriages- go figure). But EVERYONE is called your "friend!" What is a "friend?" Well, on Facebook, what they call a "friend" is someone who can view your profile, and you can view theirs, can post tidbits of news (or silly games like "Farmville") they want to show you, or its someone who can post bitter responses to your personal posts. A "friend" on FB can be someone you've never met. It can be someone that you have only heard of, or someone you only met once or twice. "Friend" indeed. Well, in the real world, a friend is someone you have a meaningful relationship with. Usually, it is someone you have looked in the eye and spoken with. It is someone who in some way furthers your personal formation and journey to Heaven. On Facebook, however, I feel like its high school all over again. Who says their your friend one day, is "de-friending" you the next. Also, its easy to have 100+ Facebook "friends" but none of them ever grow into real quality friends. You see, Facebook can all to easily take the place of the old fashioned phone call. The simple person to person approach. Rather, its a world where inhibitions are few. People are ever more vocal about their opinions, and "friends" are hurting each other through and through.

Before you think I'm totally anti-Facebook, let's move on. Facebook is a reality of our time. And as a Christian in this current time, I am called to use all the means at my disposal to further Christ's Kingdom! Facebook offers MANY opportunities for evangelization, and also many opportunities for a new kind of charity and restraint. Our beloved Holy Father said this exactly. But he ALSO said that we must be on guard that social networks do NOT take the place of person to person contact. Quality relationships.

All that said, I am currently NOT on Facebook. I used to be. I was for 2 years. I began under the pure intention of wanting to use it to be a witness. To evangelize. But I very quickly got SUCKED in. While I was busy "connecting" with people from my past and present on Facebook, my children sulked, the dishes didn't get done, my house suffered, and my husband endured me constantly excusing myself in our special family moments to go post about it on FB. It didn't take long for me to realize this was a very bad set up for me, and for my family. In reality, it was not connecting me to the people that matter most in my life...the ones right here in my home that I have been entrusted to care for, love, nurture, protect, and serve.

While Facebook claims to connect people, I ask...does it connect you to the little child awaiting your love and attention while you post...and post...and read your FB wall? Does it CONNECT you to quality relationships? Has any friendship on FB actual developed in the real world into a quality friendship (relying on facebook alone)? To the person who checks FB on their black berry, does it connect you to the souls around you that you forget are speaking to you, while you quickly text a response, simultaneously nodding your head as if you're listening (and I mean REALLY listening) to them (yes, I think we all have been on both sides of this scenario).

If you use Facebook, and NONE of these things apply to you, then I APPLAUD you. YOU use it correctly. I hope to be able to do that someday. But for now, I am content to call the friend I haven't spoken to in a while (instead of thinking that a FB hello substitutes really reaching out). I'm also content to know that, as my husband has calculated, since quitting Facebook last October, I have received approximately 180 HOURS of my life back! That's right, assuming I was on Facebook a collective 1 hour a day...and I was, more or less. 180 hours.

When I wanted to quit FB- they (the powers of the FB phenomenon) make it virtually impossible to quit. They flash you pictures of your friends to tempt you with words written "Are you SURE? Look at what you'll be missing?!" Then you say "YES, I AM SURE!" and they flash you some MORE, saying "are you REALLY sure?" Then, when you think you've finally succeeded in quitting, they tell you, "we'll miss you, if you miss us, all you have to do is simply sign back in and ALL your information will still be here!" Um...no. It took me an entire day to figure out how to really quite Facebook. I might be a little electronically challenged, but that is a bit ridiculous. Then, when I did finally quit, it told me I had 2 weeks to change my mind. TWO WEEKS of trying not to sign in. It was tempting. But I did it! When it was all over, what really confirmed for me that I did the right thing (FOR ME) was that my first instinct was to compose a post explaining how hard it was to quit. I had to laugh out loud! You know its bad when you want to POST on Facebook about how you QUIT Facebook. Yup, it was time for me to go.

I pray that as I deepen in my faith and as I gain more self-control regarding time spent on the internet, I will be able to more properly use modern means of evangelization. But for now, Facebook is not for me. And my family is grateful.

Return from nowhere and everywhere!

After an almost 2 year hiatus from the blogosphere (not that long in the grand scheme of life, right?), I am back! To begin to explain why I haven't posted in so long would take too much space...I don't think there are enough gigabytes. The short summary of it is: I have been living. Living a quiet life of checking in occasionally on some of my personal favorite blogs and sites which I follow, but mostly just living the beautiful, amazing, complicated (and yet simple at the same time) life of learning to focus on the needs of my ever growing family without intentionally drawing attention from the outside world. I take this step back into the blog world hesitantly. I hesitate not because I distrust anyone else, but because I distrust myself. All too easily can my intention lose its purity, and a blog post goes from innocent reflection and sharing, to looking for public justification and approval for the various aspects of my life. To the shame of my vanity, I have decided to blog again...not because I want attention, or approval, or popularity, but because I want to purify my intention even further. To write for the Lord only, and if anyone happens to read along the way I pray that He will use my imperfect life made public on the blog for His glory...somehow, someway (if even only to put myself out on the line so others can see how unworthy and imperfect I am!).

So let me begin this new segment of my blog-life with one specific clarification. I suppose in the past 2 years, hidden outside the blog world, and in trying to live my life "Testifying to Love," all I have really learned is how imperfect I am at testifying to love. I began my motherhood journey with a bang of enthusiasm and apostolic energy to live my vocation as wife, mother, and apostle FULLY. I was going to give myself to the Lord and be His witness to Love in all things. And then...somewhere along the line of having 3 little ones, my husband returning to graduate school while also working full time, the endless laundry, the impending homeschool decisions, and various personal challenges of faith, I have learned that choosing to testify to love is more than just a one-time enthusiastic choice, it is a constant re-commitment.

More on this later. Off to kiss those 3 precious little faces in my midst!