In the Moment

 Not too long ago I had the pleasure of watching my one-year-old grandson at my house. He was fun to watch playing with his toys, checking to see if he could outsmart the baby-proof cabinet, and running down the hall to visit Grandpa. Then, after about forty-five minutes exhaustion hit and he was in tears. The only thing that calmed him down was snuggling up in my lap. Not only did he have to sit there, but he had to have my complete attention. If I picked up my phone or a book he started whining again. I realized that he wasn't going to be happy unless and until I was totally present to him. So we sat together and in a few minutes, his head dropped to his chest. I moved him to my shoulder and went back to my multitasking, but realized how important those moments with him were.

Afterward, I started thinking how that time of being totally present is something I do not strive for nearly enough; on the phone with my kids, listening to my husband talk about his interests that I do not necessarily share, in prayer. If I could focus and concentrate like that during mass, what would that do to my spiritual life? If I spent even a few minutes concentrating on my husband, how much could that improve my marriage?

Multitasking by itself is not a bad thing. If our minds did not drift to what we need to get done, many things would never get done. But maybe trying to be more present with our family and friends and more focused during prayer are good goals. We are not wired to laser focus on each task we do, but how wonderful it is when we have the opportunity to be totally present for a moment or two.

Guest Paper

 When I was born, we lived on the East side of Manhatten in the top-floor apartment of a brownstone. The landlords were Mr. and Mrs. Hyman, an older couple with who my newlywed parents had a good relationship. We eventually moved out and had a house in the suburbs and I had several siblings. I remember one Sunday we packed up the car and went down to Manhatten to visit the Hymens. As a youngster of about five, it was pretty uneventful. I knew the routine for visiting adults: don't touch anything without permission, don't argue with your sister, be polite, and so on. At some point, I had to go to the bathroom and after getting permission, I went in. It was a typical old people's bathroom with a cover on the toilet and just cluttered enough that you knew it was used regularly. I noticed that on top of the toilet there was a roll of toilet paper that was noticeable thin and scratchy. Scratchier than I had ever seen in my short life. On the toilet paper holder was a nice soft roll of two-ply quality paper. For some reason that really set my mind spinning. Why would anyone buy such scratchy paper? why not use the nice stuff all the time? will they use up that roll of good paper after we leave or put it away someplace until the next time they have guests? Do they actually like scratchy paper? I certainly was too shy to ask Mrs. Hymen directly and I never did talk to my Mom and Dad about it.

I started thinking about this incident when I dug out a roll of not-so-nice toilet paper that I bought in the Spring of 2020 when there were not many choices. As I wish that I had not bought such a large package of this thin, not-soft paper I remember the Hymens.  They were definitely of an age to have been affected by World War II, I do not know if they were in the US or Europe at that time and I also do not know if they had friends or relatives who were in battle or in concentration camps. Were they in the habit of being frugal, even with toilet paper, or did they feel bad about small everyday luxuries? Did they switch the rolls to honor their guests, or did they think that these young people could not handle austerity?

At this late date, I cannot ask anyone for more details, but I can ponder. How attached am I to small, and not-so-small creature comforts? Am I grateful for all these first-world comforts? Do I ever think about those who live much simpler lives, either by choice or necessity?  

So I guess I have learned to not put the single-ply toilet paper in the guest bathroom. But also, put out the better, matching dishes, open the new box of crackers, use that better bottle of wine, celebrate that I have friends and family that come over to spend time with me. Also, remember those who don't have the option of better toilet paper.

At Least I Am Not in the Belly of a Whale.

 My very religious, very Evangelistic neighbor has been telling me lately that she is excited about all the mayhem going on in the U.S. because it is making so many people turn towards God and pray. It is an unusual take on how to handle what you do not like about what is going on around you. She is seriously rejoicing in things being bad. This got me thinking about what should I be doing as far as praying and acting to improve things I know are not good and not God's will.

The Old Testament readings at Sunday mass the past couple of weeks mention Samuel and Jonah. Both were called by God, both had some trouble at first, but then eventually did listen and follow God's will. What does that mean to us living in 2021? Are we listening to God? How is he calling us? I don't think many of us are woken up in the middle of the night by the voice of God. Neither are we told specifically where to go and what to do like Jonah was, nor are we likely to be swallowed by a giant whale if we do not act on what God is asking of us, but we need to be alert to listen to what God is calling us to do and be. 

How do we know what God wants of us? Listening at church and following our Church traditions teaches us to pray and ask for what we need. But how do we know if God wants more than prayer? Somebody needs to do the action. How alert are we to the quiet voice in our heart that leads us to a particular action whether it be working at a food pantry, praying in front of an abortion clinic, spending some extra time on the phone with a friend or neighbor who needs your companionship, writing to elected officials, running for office,  peaceful protests, going on a mission, fasting for an intention, or even something more life-changing? Many of us have already set the path for our major vocation, but that doesn't mean you shouldn't be constantly listening for God who might show us what he wants by having a job layoff and then a very different opportunity arises, a nagging feeling that you need to be doing something for a particular group or cause, obstacles that get in the way of what you want to do that make you have second thoughts. 

Looking back, I can see some times in my life where God led me to be somewhere or do something. After losing a teaching job due to the school closing, I stumbled into a job working in a shelter for homeless, pregnant women. It was hard but very fulfilling, I grew and I know I helped many people. I was led to work in a Catholic school with some very supportive co-workers the year that we had several family crises. It wasn't exactly being swallowed by a fish and being spat out where you belong but I still ended up going someplace I had no intention of going. If you think about it, I suspect you can find some times when God managed to get you where you belong, even though it was not your first choice. 

So I cannot rejoice as much as my neighbor about bad times bringing people closer to God, but I can and will pray and be alert to where I am being led and to say "Here I am Lord, I come to do your will." 

Socially Distanced Cookies

 This year my daughter-in-law, my daughter, and I decided to try a drop-off cookie and pastry exchange. Normally we would be bringing such treats to multiple gatherings on both sides of the family, but with the Covid restrictions, we had to figure out a way to get our baking fix without eating six dozen of the same cookie ourselves. 

So I got to work and made my personal favorites, chocolate biscotti, and chocolate chip cookies. I decided I had the time and energy to make one more type and asked my husband what he wanted. His reply was he loves iced sugar cutouts, like my sister makes, with lots of details and really pretty. My sister usually bakes about 20 dozen cutouts each year and spends several days painting them and using them as gifts for business associates. and church friends. She is much more artistically talented than I and I usually only bake cutouts when I can't get any of hers.

So I pulled out my favorite recipe and set to work. The dough came together without mishap and I put it in the fridge to firm up. I looked over my collection of cookie cutters and pulled out about eight, reminding myself that I need to not do more than I have the time or talent for. The icing looked and smelled good and I was ready to get to work. Then I realized that if you only decorate cookies every few years, you don't necessarily have all the tools you need. A toothpick and a spoon worked well enough to cover the large areas so I was a little emboldened. That is when things started to unravel. I could not get the colors to blend the way I wanted so each Santa had a dusty rose hat. My hand was not steady enough to get the eyes straight and then I started rushing and realized I was going to have a lot more to clean up because I was rushing. After an hour or so I decided that a single color on each cookie and some sprinkles would do. They taste good and my husband is satisfied, even though they do not look like bakery quality.

I started thinking about how this baking experience relates to Advent and how I should be preparing myself for Jesus coming. It feels like I was fighting most of my bad habits during this project, rushing, trying to do too much, not taking the time to find the right tools, giving up, and taking shortcuts. I will probably get more compliments on the cookies that I bake more often, just like I can do most things better when I practice them. Like the cookies, I am pretty good as is. But this time of year we as Catholics and Christians have the opportunity, even the duty, to try to become more prepared for the coming of our Lord, not only at Christmas but when we meet Him face to face at the end of our life. 

Make sure to find a way to enjoy the Christmas season, even if it means some major changes in tradition. We can all learn to enjoy simple things and appreciate all the wonders of the season.

A Walk or a Hike?

 I just wanted to let you know that my husband and I completed a 3.25-mile hike on the Peewah Trail at Trail of Tears State Park. My husband said that it would be impressive and I could tell everyone about my accomplishment. If you are not duly impressed, I better let you know the rest of the story.

Ron and I enjoy taking walks, usually in the neighborhood, sometimes when we are out of town. We recently took a couple of days off for our anniversary and drove to Cape Girardeau, MO. We knew that there were a couple of state parks with some hiking trails in the area and we thought that walking a mile or so along one of these trails would be a good way to enjoy an hour or two together. We went to the Visitor's Center at the park and got a map of the trails. I should have worried when I asked her how hard the trail was and she replied that we should be able to do it since we were wearing hiking shoes. As she described that there were some hills and tree roots I should have been listening better. She gave us a trail map that Ron stuck in his pocket.

So we drove to the trailhead and grabbed the 1/2 filled water bottle that was in the car. (We had left the cooler at the hotel.) Despite the weather report calling for rain, we started out with the sun shining and the temperatures in the mid-seventies. We went up and down the first couple of hills and they were a little steep. Ron said it was about the same as the hill leading to our house, I reminded him that the road to our house is paved and isn't 3.25 miles. He also on every uphill shouted out that downhill can be harder than uphill. I responded only when you have sore knees, and that is not a problem for either of us. 

The views of the Mississippi River were fantastic and the autumn leaves were stunning as we ambled along. The temperature was creeping up and the hills were starting to feel steeper. Ron pulled out the map and we realized we had not even gotten even halfway along the loop. I finally looked at the map and realized that those topographic lines that show you how steep the hills are were very close together and there was a whole lot of them. I was kind of watching the clock and figured that walking on pavement we should do about three miles an hour, so a casual walk on a path should be maybe twice that? About this point, the walk became a hike and was less enjoyable as I started thinking about how tired and out of breath I was becoming. I was also getting jealous of my husband, who is a good five years older than me, moving at a pretty quick clip and wearing a dress shirt and khakis. Every time I stopped to catch my breath, he would be concerned but confused. I started having "what if" thoughts about possible illness or accident way out in the middle of nowhere and no way to get rescued. It didn't help any when Ron decided it would be a good idea to spread out about ten feet so if one of us falls, we don't knock down the other one. I definitely was not enjoying this chore of finishing the hike at this point.

We kept tramping along, got off the trail by about 100 feet once, and had to stop to figure out where the trail went three or four times. I did trip and fall one time and threatened Ron with his life when he started to pull out his phone to take a picture. Eventually, after almost two hours we figured out where we were on the map and I felt better knowing that we were heading back toward the trailhead. About this time I also noticed that the breeze was getting cold and damp and there was a faint sound of thunder in the distance. Thinking about the impending rainstorm just made us move a little faster.

We got back to our car after two hours and fifty minutes. I looked at the sign and besides listing all the hazards of the trail, it gave a suggested time to plan for the trip. 3.5 hours. I just looked at the sign, then at Ron, and then back at the sign. We had just basically sprinted around that trail! I had not enjoyed the hike because I thought that I was lazy and out of shape when we could have stopped many more times and still been typical hikers. Ron is almost a foot taller than me and his legs are much longer so he was taking fewer steps. Also, my ego wouldn't let me admit that he is just better than me at long walks, probably genetically. 

Yes, we will go hiking again. No, I will not feel guilty about setting a slower pace. I will definitely plan better, bringing enough water and looking at the map more carefully. I will try to be less competitive and just enjoy the moment.

It Shows

 I had the opportunity to spend two weeks in a kindergarten classroom recently and was reminded of how honest they are about what goes on in their life.  I also was reminded that they usually do not have the communication skills to express their feelings well, nor the ability to make many changes in their lives. 

When they get tired, they either fall asleep in their chair or do whatever it takes to stay awake and alert; often this involves making noise or moving in ways that the teacher does not condone. When they are scared or worried, you might see tears, but you are just as likely to see anger or silliness.

I think as parents or other involved adults, we often are so wrapped up in our own problems that we forget that our children have feelings about what they see and perceive. Most teachers can tell when a child is exposed to some kind of change at home. It might be a sick relative, a missing pet, a change in the family routine, or something else that they have no control over. Often the adults have little or no control either. But some things the adults do have control over. No child should have to listen to the adults around him/her argue or fight. They should not have to listen to one adult put down another adult.  They definitely should not have to be exposed to immoral behavior whether it is drug use or theft, or violence towards a person or place. 

Yes, your child's teacher knows when there is something that your child is struggling with, whether it is a change in your work hours, a fight with an ex-spouse, or any of a myriad of other things. But you, as a parent, can do much more to help your child verbalize and deal with his/her emotions. Sometimes you can fix the problem, sometimes, not, but you are the one most likely to be able to pinpoint what it is that is hurting your child's heart.

So, when you are at your wit's end, even if it is not intuitive, give your child an extra hug, spend a couple of minutes talking to him/her, remember that they are feeling most of the same stresses you are and they cannot control anything about it.

Change

Change is hard; at least that is what they say. I have been going through some changes in my life lately and I don't know if "hard" is the right word. "Unsettling" or "confusing" might be better, but I am not sure.
Back in January, my husband talked me into retiring from a non-profit job that I was getting very stressed about and start taking social security. I took on a part-time job to avoid getting into our retirement money too quickly. Then, like everyone else, we had to deal with Covid-19, lockdowns, travel restrictions, and fewer job options. Around April someone asked me how my retirement was going. I answered that it felt like I was on lockdown, almost like a prison.  I finally started to realize that I was having trouble adjusting to not only the change brought about by Covid-19 but also and even more so the change of being retired. That was hard to wrap my head around; who wouldn't want to have more free time and less responsibility?
As I was reflecting and adjusting I realized that the struggle I was having with change was something I had gone through many times as a parent and a family member.
Everyone expects you to be overwhelmed with the change of getting married and the change of having your first child. When a family member passes away, everyone supports you through the change. But there are plenty of life events that can throw you for a loop. But, you often do not expect it and those around you can't see your struggle. Things like a child starting kindergarten or moving out of the house permits you to have tears, but you are expected to move on pretty quickly.
Children growing up, starting school, graduating, moving out, marrying are all obvious changes and your friends and family realize the change and are supportive Death of loved ones, career changes and relocating are also changes that garner support.
But even with support from friends and family, you need to shift your thinking as life changes.
One of the life changes that I have struggled with and that I see others struggle with is acknowledging your child is an adult. I remember sitting in my daughter's apartment at a family event and looking at the kitchen table where four adults who looked and sounded like my children and children in law were acting like adults and having a discussion about something very mature, like cleaning methods and supplies. That was a reality check, but I still had a learning curve on how to relate to them as adult children instead of dependent children. I am getting better, but I still need to work on suggesting instead of telling; giving advice without either of us feeling obliged. As I have learned to step back and treat my children the same way I would any other young adult, our relationship has grown and improved. My children are all out of the house, gainfully employed, and don't need someone telling them what to do. I have had to learn to be the friend that I could not be when they were young and needed much more direction. I am also beginning to see the shift to them helping us. I am learning to not feel bad about asking them to bring a dish for dinner or come over to fix something.

I have always loved my children, now I love them in a different way than I did when they were little. It is a big change, but not a bad one.

“In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.”― Leonardo da Vinci