Just because it's funny...

As with previous posts, the intention for writing was to impart a lesson or to share some knowledge I wanted you all to know.  However, this post is an exception. You may or may not find a lesson here. I share this experience for two reasons. First, it makes me laugh that it happened...and secondly, I still can't believe it actually happened...but it did.

I  had forgotten about this hilarity until recently.  I was thinking about funny stories I could share with a friend to cheer her up and provide a few laughs. Suddenly, this comedy came flooding from the recesses of my crowded memory bank. 

It was roughly fifteen years ago and we were living in Houston.  I had 6 kids at the time. Rianna was the youngest and finally enrolled in the Mother's Day out program. It was surely a Tuesday or a Thursday, yet the day of week matters very little.  What matters is that I treasured these days like gold because it meant a free moment to myself in a completely quiet house after dropping kids off in the morning.  Some days I would clean or run errands, yet some days I would catch up on a some much needed rest. 

On this particular day, I woke up craving more sleep and knew I'd race home to a quiet, comfy, unmade bed. I'm not certain if I even owned a cell phone yet but I took the reciever off the hook just to make sure there were no interruptions to my solitude and slumber.

I had just gotten cozy and began to relax when I heard a light rap at the door. Convinced it was a door to door magazine salesmen or a Johovas witness, I stayed locked in the covers.  The knocking became louder and more persistent.  I was annoyed but figured they'd give up when I didn't answer the door.  Suddenly I heard the door open and a mans voice..."hello,  HELLO!"

Shocked and scared, I froze. Who in the heck is breaking into my house when I'm trying to sleep?? Never mind the door was unlocked. I was more perturbed this burglar was disrupting my time alone.  I decided I better peek around the corner and see who was in the house.  Luckily there was a bat handy, as you all know you can find sports equipment laying around the house at all times.

As I peeked around the corner with bat in hand, I noticed the cul desac filled with police cars...I think it was the SWAT team.  A police officer had his gun aimed straight at me. I still wasn't registering the scene although the house was crawling with police officers, darting here and there...guns fully drawn. I thought I may be dreaming except I knew I hadn't even had a chance to fall asleep.

I said..."uuummm, what are you doing?"
The police man still pointing his pistol at me said, " WHO are YOU?!"
I said..."ummmm, I live here." Obviously this was a mistake.
He said, "Do you have you an ID ma'am??"
That's when I started to panic.  My ID was still a Missouri license because I had not yet visited the DMV to get a new one. My address still had our previous address.

I produced the ID anyway and told my pathetic moving story praying he wouldn't cuff me right then and there.  As he looked everything over including the house with a fine tooth comb, he explained they received a 911 call from our address. When they tried to call back, it was busy and they had to check out the premises for suspicious activity, robbery, possible kidnapping etc.  My question to this day is "how on earth did I dial 911and not know it??"

I believe it was the mystical force in my life that does not want to see me take a nap...ever! And you can be sure I didn't fall back to sleep after the last cop car pulled away.  I think I went straight to the DMV and renewed my license!

Keeping your eye on the ball...a wedding story

Now that Melanies wedding is over, I have had a few days to digest all that transpired in the days leading up to and proceeding the major sacramental event of the year.  There were so many curveballs thrown at the England family, I decided the most appropriate title for this post had to be what I learned in my early years playing softball.  I never knew how much this phrase was going to mean, nor how handy it would come on a wedding day.

Interestingly, wedding day plans had been flowing quite smoothly.  Despite starting a new businesss just 12 days before the wedding,  I calmly thought I was managing my days and hours quite well.  The business kick off was a success, even with 10 inches of unexpected snow in late March.  One hurdle leaped.

The next 12 days would be "all wedding"  and "all hands on deck."  There was painting, carpet cleaning, alteration appointments, printing jobs and a myriad of other extras heaped upon daily chores, like laundry and making dinner.  I was impressed that we were flying through our days with lists accomplished and everyone being fed.  The older girls were instrumental in making it all happen on the homefront and I was feeling grateful to have extra hands and feet.  We were progressing toward the wedding day in anxious anticipation, like world series champs.

That was until the planes started flying in.  Though all planes landed safely, the out of town guests, including college children arriving home,  signaled "game-time" at the England abode.  The house quickly became a hive of buzzing activity and all incomplete last minute details were shoved into the recesses of my mind and incomplete lists were shoved into the unseen cavities of any available junk drawer.

We had a casual Wednesday night dinner with Jeff's family and all enjoyed sharing our time before the official festivities began.  We feasted a delicious dinner and shared wonderful company as the night went joyfully smooth, despite the last minute plan.  One thing the England clan can do well, is fly by the seat of our pants.  And we were flying into our final hours before "show time."

Rehearsal dinner morning, I popped out of bed very early to the sound of the front door blasting open.  Mitchell had gone out to his car to retrieve the bag he brought home from college with all of his clothes.  In his excitement to see his siblings, he left his luggage and all belongings in the car overnight. I heard him ask Sean, his older brother, if he had thrown all of his things around in the trunk looking for something.  With Sean half awake, he replied pleasantly, "I have no idea what you are talking about!"  That is when we realized all unlocked vehicles, which were many, had been broken into late that night.

We immediately ran out to our cars and found the entire contents from consoles strewn around the front seats.  It was an eery feeling to know that someone had been lurking around the house with all of us in it.  I was sure the house had been lit up like a firecracker all night since no one, including me,  is very good at turning out the lights when people start crashing out.  The thief or thieves helped themselves to whatever goods they wanted and grabbed some very odd and unusual things.  Mitchell had his bag stolen, but many of the contents were dumped back into the trunk.  We discovered the thief had stolen his underwear, running shorts, his only pair of tennis shoes and his ipod.  My car was unusually clean, except for religious items that weren't of interest to the bandits.  All of the envelopes and letters in my console were ripped to shreds as they thought they might find some money. No luck there.  Riley's car had been pillaged as well.  Though nothing was taken in the car, I quickly noticed that Steve's rollerblades were gone.  They had been perfectly placed in a line of rollerblades that decorate the patio when not in use.

We started the day with a visit from the Town and Country police.  Notes were taken, pictures recorded and all procedural protocol was administered before 9:00 am.  Riley took off with her list of errands and I had given her my debit card to complete the purchases.  I stayed back and finished what needed to be done at home.  Around noon, Riley arrived in tears.  She had spent the last few hours running like a mad woman, only to get to the checkouts with a debit card that was declined again and again.  She had gotten zero accomplished except discovering a mysteriously frozen debit card.

I called the bank and it seemed as though someone in Arizona was having a party with my bank account.  The bank's fraud team luckily caught the problem just in the nick of time, spoiling Riley's productive run to purchase important last minute items.  The "Schnucks IT breach" had struck the England debit cards twice in one week.  We were down to one debit card in crunch time.  No problem, at least I still had a checkbook.

We continued on without missing a beat.  We were shaken but had our eye on the ball.  We were all focused on the culmination of a year of planning.  Even the program printing mishap, the week before and the drawing of my dear St. Joseph with six fingers had been reprinted and ready to be placed at the tables.  We were on our game.

The rehearsal dinner was a beautiful celebration in a cozy room and the italian food and loving company was superb.  Many beautiful heartfelt toasts were made and love was in the air.  I marveled at the wonderful friends my daughter and son-in-law had made on their journey.  They were an impressive group of young people  and I recall thinking that I couldn't have handpicked a better group myself.  Both families and friends had a wonderful time and we were feeling gratitude for the love that brought us all together.  At the end of a beautiful evening, we went home to prepare for the big day.  It was game time.

When everyone woke up things were unusually calm.  Girls were in the shower getting ready for
the day at the salon.  I was going over the last minute details in my office when my phone rang at 8:00 am.  It was the photographer.  She was double checking on the date of service because the wedding planner was making her vendor phone calls to update them on the schedule for the day.  Our photographer mistakenly thought the date on our contracts read April 15th instead of the fifth.  I seriously thought she was being a jokester.  She couldn't possibly be serious.  She assured me she would be there but not before my feathers were ruffled and nerves unraveled.  Melanie would find out about this tomorrow after all pictures were taken.  I carried on, calm as a cucumber.

With a five o'clock wedding, 10:30 am began the schedule of hair and make up.  Plenty of time was allotted for beautification and pampering for 13 plus clients.  The salon was bustling with hairstylists and makeup artists.  False eyelashes were flying.  The scene was a happy one with mimosas and a catered lunch.

I couldn't believe how quickly the time went by.  I was still waiting to get  hair and makeup application an hour before our 2:00 departure time.  Thankfully almost everyone was finished and Melanie was glowing.  Her beauty and happiness lit up the salon.

As my stylist finished my hair, she gave me a mirror to approve her couture creation.  When I looked into the mirror, I almost choked.  Who was this person looking back at me?  My head looked like a perfectly teased square box with bangs.  Spongebob was not the look I was going for.  With no time to spare, I jumped out of my seat and asked the stylist for the brush and the blowdryer.  I proceeded to find the nearest electrical outlet.  Grandma graciously held a mirror in front of her face so I could see what I was doing.  No time for panic, just action.  The stunned stylist stood there bewildered by my wild undoing of her creation.  I had no time for explanations. I could feel my ears turning beet red.  With all the things that had gone on, I was a bit unprepared for the panic of a hairdo gone very wrong.  Luckily, one of the master stylists took quick control of my head, and calm returned.

We were off to the hotel with everyone ready and primped to perfection, only we were an hour off schedule.  When we got  to the hotel to dress and take pictures, it was going to have to be fast and furious in order to stay on time for the 5:00 start.  We were focused and I was internally assured we were almost successfully ready for "go time." The wedding would not start without the bride.

We entered the bridal suite to find everything in place, including a reality show team of photographers.  Everyone was scurrying about looking for their dresses. Melanie waited patiently for me to finish dressing so we could pose for some cherished mother/daughter "getting ready" pictures.  Maeve, our youngest -2 year old, was passed out in the bed in comatose fashion, after several busy days without a nap.  She was lying shoeless in her flower-girl dress, fur coat and all.

I quickly realized a major malfunction when I couldn't locate the red paisley bag with my undergarments, shoes and emergency items  I had specifically packed for both Riley, the maid of honor, and I.  It was no where to be found.  Surely, after all the careful instructions about which bag went where, it would turn up.  I had even put it in the car myself.  Immediately, Melanie's bridesmaid's and her Aunt Molly sprang into action.  A fleet of beautifully dressed women scampered the floors of the hotel, collecting anything and everything we were missing.

Then, in the whirl of scavenger hunting, someone announced that we were missing a bridesmaid dress.  It was Riley's, the maid of honor.   I was starting to feel the choking airwaves in my throat.  Panic was at my door, but I refused to open it.  Steve's blood pressure was rising and it looked like he just swam 100 laps in the hotel pool.  He was dripping with sweat.  I knew things could start plummeting quickly as we have all been around dad when the he is sweating bullets.  Things could get dicey.

In a rush, he flew out the door, ready to make the drive back to the house to get the dress.  I followed him quickly to help him regain composure and Melanie pleaded, "Dad, don't leave!"  I looked him in the eyes and told him to breath... which he did very, very well.  We flew into the bathroom so he could soak up the dripping sweat and catch a breath.  His bow tie still needed tying.  He asked me to do it, which I was more than happy to do, only I had no idea how.  With miraculous teamwork, we tied it successfully in seconds.  He left the bathroom to take some shots with Melanie, as I coped with a very distraught maid of honor.  She had already started to bawl off  her beautiful applied makeup.

I stood in front of her, and looked her right in the eye, and gave her permission to cry... and cry hard. She only had five minutes to do her crying.  As I left her to release her stress, I had to come up with a plan B that did not involve anyone driving anywhere.  There simply was no time for that.

As I left the bathroom, my brain was on hyperdrive.  Unfortunately, it was devoid of any ideas.  I didn't have a sewing machine handy or I would have sewn something out of the drapes.  Suddenly, I remembered Melanies bridesmaid, Andrea, who flew in from France.  She was the only one with her luggage in the room.  The dress she wore to the rehearsal dinner struck me as our only way out.  It was a beautiful black off the shoulder, short dress with a ruffle across the top.  It would fit perfectly with the other dresses.  Indeed, Mother Mary came to my aid.  Our only obstacle would be if it was the right
size.  It was close and I was determined to make this dress fit one way or the other.  I didn't want to go to Plan C, which would have required another bridesmaid to offer up their own dress so Melanie could have her maid of honor clothed and respectable.

I entered the bathroom feeling triumphant, but Riley was still visibly a wreck.  She was not happy and I didn't blame her a bit.  Yet at that moment, I told her that this would be a life changing experience.  The whole fiasco was out of our hands.  We only had one thing we could control and that was our frame of mind.  Her attitude and ability to keep her eye on the ball would be something she would always remember.  Getting Melanie to the church, with everyone in a joyful spirit to celebrate with her, was paramount to a successful day.  She had the ability to choose which way she would handle the situation. I didn't dare impose which way she should go.  It was her choice.  She could dry her eyes, and put on the dress that wasn't in the plan, and smile her way through or she could remain upset for herself and ruin a beautiful atmosphere of love and unity.  I let her make the choice.

As usual, she stepped up to the plate.  Her maturity was a feat beyond my hopes for the moment.  She dried her tears and went with the program as if nothing happened.  She looked beautiful and her goodness beamed for all to see.  The pride I feel for my children is something I can not adequately explain when they do good things.  But when they turn a nightmare into a dream is when my heart swells the greatest.  I know they are soaking up the ability to conquer tough challenges in life through attitude and focus.  They are honing their skills at "keeping their eye on the ball" so that they hit a homerun when many others strike out under pressure.  This ability separates the minor leaguers from the majors in life.

We arrived to the church very late, but all were clothed looking beautiful and happy.  Maeves white shoes never showed up and she march down the isle with her everyday sandals, a fur coat and a basket of lifesavers.  Her hair was beautifully matted and uncombed from her slumber.  We stayed focused on getting to the church to start the ceremony as fast, calm and happily as we all could possibly be.  I don't think anyone was the wiser, except for those who witnessed and participated in the harried scene 30 minutes prior to arrival.

From then on, the wedding ceremony fulfilled all of our hopes for a beautiful, sacramental beginning to Melanies new life with her handsome, loving husband, Jeff.  God and his grace poured out upon our families as we kept our eyes on the ball.  We hit it out of the park with a grand slam!

Thank you all for the beautiful gift you gave me- on the first of many weddings for this family. The love I feel is overwhelming.
We make a wonderful team!

Love
MOM

The Gift

As we put Thanksgiving 2012 in the books and look forward to Christmas,  I am reflecting upon the week our family spent together with everyone home from college and work.  At the beginning of each day we huddled together and exchanged our ideas for what needed to get done.  When we finished with our needs, we peppered it with our wants.  Everyone exchanged their vision of what they wanted to accomplish and what they wanted to do to spend time together. I am amazed at how many things we crammed into the week and am also grateful at how much everyone wanted to savor the moments together.

One conversation that stands out most last week is the topic of making "lists." It is central to the season and should be the axis of our lives.  The girls gathered together and were all discussing what they wanted to do with the few precious hours left before Melanie had to catch her flight back to Texas.    With only a few hours left to share, they decided to head up to the mall because it was close and Riley commented that she needed to get some ideas. I immediately felt my heart swell as I assumed that she wanted to  browse the stores for gift ideas that she would give to others during the holiday season.  My ingrained response is the mother's reflex to think the best in each of her children.  Then, I thought to quickly ask..."Ideas for what?'

She automatically responded, "I need to get ideas of what I want for Christmas.  Everyone keeps asking me what I want.  I need ideas."  The girls all chimed in, "me too, me too!"  I agreed.  We definitely need to shop for ideas.  Only we won't ever find what we need at the mall.  It occurred to me our focus needed to be on making lists this season and these lists need to focus on the giving- not the wanting.

My eyes immediately widened and my face gave a very telling look.  I am horrible at hiding what is in my heart.  It seems to come right out of my face, which isn't always a good thing.  I was hit with the reality that I had many hours left to tend in my family garden, plucking out some weeds that were getting a little unruly.  The last time I checked the garden, I was yielding some pretty tasty fruit.  But I guess that's what happens when you turn your back for a second.  Those weeds are hearty.  The roots are deep and they grow back so quickly.

Despite the annoyance, I am back to picking weeds before this Christmas season.  This Christmas we are all going to make lists.  Only, I don't want to see lists of "wants." The season is about Christ's gift to the world.  His gift involved the sacrifice of His whole life- in body, mind and spirit.  We are to emulate his gift by giving to others with our words, deeds, and spirit to the extent each of us are able.  I want to see "giving" lists this Christmas.  What would you each like to give this season?  Where can your gifts be utilized as an offering to someone else.  I want you to spend more time thinking about what you can give, even if it is only with your words.  This is the meaning of Christmas and should remain throughout the seasons of life.  When we leave this world and meet God face to face, the only gift we have to give is the gift of our own lives.  It should be wrapped in love for Him and others.  I want you all to be proud of the gift you have to offer .  You may be disappointed when you realize you could have given God so much more in return for the gifts you received.  Your words, deeds and relationships in love are the only things that matter.  They are the only things you can take with you to eternity.

You are all familiar with my book of "specials" that I keep tucked into my Holy Bible.  They are the precious gifts of love you have all given me through the years.  The mothers day cards, pictures, drawings and expressions of love from when you were all very little and could barely write.  The earliest attempts at expressing your love captures my heart the most.  I am often overwhelmed when I reread your hysterical poems in your precious handwriting.  I often think this is how God looks at each of us as we attempt to give Him gifts to show our love and thanksgiving.  He prizes the purity in our heart and the way we each express our love for the stage we are in.

Remember the year dad's birthday rolled around, and all of the little ones ran around the house looking for something to wrap up?  As you reached into the cabinets and toy boxes to find gifts to give, the funniest gift was the orange Sheila grabbed out of the fruit bowl.   She used pretty wrapping paper and gobs of tape to wrap the odd shaped edible.  The wrapping job itself gave dad and I so much joy.  Every year, dad still gets a wrapped orange for his birthday as a joke.  It reminds us of the precious way we are to give gifts.

So, as your are making lists, concentrate on the list of gifts you already have and focus on where and to whom you can give them.  The simplest and most unexpected acts of kindness bring each other the most joy.  Always be looking for opportunities to use your gifts to give to others, especially as we celebrate this Christmas season.  Do not think they are too small or insignificant to give.  Remember the gift of baby Jesus.  He was small, just like us.  His life was God's greatest gift to us.

Be thinking.  I will be asking for all of your lists very soon.  I am anxious to see what each of you put on your "giving" lists this year.  I am confident you all will have some great ideas that aren't found in the mall.  I can't wait to see what gifts you all put under the tree wrapped in love this Christmas.  How can you use your lives to give your own, unique gift back to God -each according to your abilities? I hope you can spend some time thinking about this during Advent season.

Love
MOM

Word for the Weekend is...Manners

The older I get, the more convinced I am that my work and devotion to being a mother demands all the attention and care I can muster.  Many women struggle with their value in being a stay at home mom and struggle with their worth and contribution to the world.  I am fortified with determination and purpose the older you all become.  There is nothing that underscores the importance of what I am doing, than meeting young people without the basic social skills many take for granted.

Parents weekend in Oxford, MS on September 7th, 2012 was case in point.  On our way to the grove, Sean, Maeve, Sheila, John Paul and I stopped by Mitchell's dorm to see his new room and to meet his roommate.  The weeks leading up to our visit, Mitchell had described his roommate as "quiet", but he was getting along well and staying busy.  I was anxious to meet this young man and to see who Mitchell was sharing his freshman experience with.

I wasn't quite prepared for what happened next.   We all streamed into the tiny dorm room where we saw a young man sitting at his computer, playing a video game of some sort, complete with monster headphones for the experience.  John Paul and Maeve, who are four years old and one year, bolted around the room, bouncing from one corner to the next.  In a matter of seconds, there were six human beings in a rather small dorm room getting the grand tour.  Never once did Mitchell's roommate look up from his computer screen, nor take his headphones off to extend his hand for an introduction.  He never uttered  a word.  The entire twenty minutes we were in the room, we were invisible to him.  He was not invisible to us, however.  I was dumbstruck that six people could suddenly come into his space, breath on him, run around him in such close proximity, and he could continue as if his world never changed.  

The absence of what I would call the most basic social skill, was astounding to me.  I am still thinking about it 3 weeks later.   An 18 year old does not wake up one day suddenly and unexpectedly unable to introduce themselves.  Even the most shy individual should have this skill.      

This awkward situation left me feeling uneasy. The entire 20 minute experience was odd at best and sad to realize his one chance at leaving a first impression was complete.  I left feeling perplexed and strange.  Had he looked me in the eye and shook my hand,  I know I would have left feeling much better.  While the entire campus was buzzing with excitement, getting ready for the big football game, he was cooped inside with a set of headphones and a computer.  It was a beautiful, sunny day.  It made me sad to think he was missing out on the friendships and camaraderie that should be part of campus life.   I wonder how he will fare when the time comes to get a job.    

You only get one chance to make a first impression.  Training you all for the day you will fly out into the world is a compilation of many small acts that culminate into one large body of work that enables you to function and carry yourself with confidence.  A good first impression is important and is meant to carry you beyond that first meeting.   Teaching proper manners may seem insignificant but it is important if you want your children to function socially. It is a blessing that helps create trust and friendships in their life.  

Never underestimate your manners, and never be afraid to introduce yourself. Always give a firm handshake when you meet someone for the first time.  It's amazing how much trust can be transferred in this simple exchange.

These episodes always affirm my vocation as a mother.  It validates the value in the simplest gestures that matter so much, and is worth the time it takes to shape young people to be ready for the world.  

Love,

MOM

Thoughts on Adoption...a sidenote.

When I think about the options I had to face between adoption and motherhood, I can say with certainty that each option is a self-sacrificing option.  In my case, the critical factor in my decision was having supportive parents and a family willing to stand behind me. I also knew that Tony would be a great father and would always be part of Melanie's life.

Many women in the same situation do not have this luxury and gift.  If I had not been blessed with such supportive parents who were financially able and willing to help, I know that I would have been pushed to reconsider what was best for Melanie.  I wanted my child to have every good thing, and not just in a material sense.   I knew that I had love to give and was willing to scrape and scrimp, yet it wouldn't be fair to Melanie if I couldn't provide for her as the years went on.  Living on welfare or in a homeless shelter wouldn't offer her the opportunities for a life she deserved to have.  She was innocent and shouldn't have to suffer hungry on the streets, especially when there are stable, married couples longing to have a family.  If I couldn't provide emotionally for her, I also would have had to reconsider.    The thought of handing her to another couple after carrying her for nine months was a visual that made me sob uncontrollably.  I couldn't imagine how hard it would be.  It felt like I was getting kicked in the gut just thinking about it.

Because I've had to consider both options, I realize that selecting adoption is the greatest and most noble of sacrifices.  Women who are deciding what is best for their child without a strong support network from the family or the father, face a crisis of the greatest magnitude.   The most heart wrenching gift a mother can give her child is the opportunity to have a life she couldn't otherwise give.  This gift is even more amazing if she is alone and abandon.  The inner struggle that accompanies such a decision rivals the fiercest battles ever fought on a battlefield.  The mother possesses the strength and fortitude of a soldier in order to deny herself the love of her own child.  A loving mother never forgets her child.  The strength it takes to make such a sacrifice implores all of my admiration and respect.

Having both a niece and nephew who were adopted from Guatemala, I have witnessed the beauty and sacrifice in their birth mother's gift.  Both mothers chose to give their children an opportunity for life in another country, to an unknown set of parents who love and adore them.  Mark and Sharon are amazing parents and treasure their children as if they were their own flesh and blood.  Your cousins are beautiful souls whose love and personalities add depth and dimension to our family that would be lacking without them.  Daniel and Marissa were the answer to many, many prayers.  We are grateful to God for the blessing of these children.   The biological parents would be overwhelmed with joy to know how much their children are loved and adored by many.  It is the reason and hope for such a sacrifice.

I also know people who have been adopted, who thank their birth mothers and understand their great sacrifice.  Some of our richest friendships and beloved family members would not exist without the gift of adoption.  The self- sacrificing gift of adoption is clearly a witness to what Christ's sacrifice on Calvary is all about.  The blessings are abundant.

Though I am forever grateful to have had family who provided me with tremendous support so that I could choose motherhood with a sound conscience, I am always inspired by the strength and sacrifice by those who choose to place their child up for adoption.  I hope you will always be able see the hand of God in both options.

Love,
Mom

Temporarily out of order...part 4

Melanie's reception into the world was a joy filled event.  Everyone couldn't wait to hold and cuddle her.  I remember the first time Tony laid eyes on his beautiful, baby girl.   She swiftly stole his heart and it was never to be returned. We all witnessed the tender meeting of a beautiful father/daughter relationship about to begin.

It was obvious fatherhood became very real at the precise moment he picked her up and tucked her into his strong arms.  As with many fathers, the reality of fatherhood doesn't quite sink in without a baby to hold.  Mothers, on the other hand, experience the reality of motherhood in a physical way much earlier due to the nature of pregnancy.  The baby moves and squirms inside the belly, making the new life hard to ignore.  I was certain Melanie would be a gymnast with all the prenatal back handsprings she seemed to be doing.  Women have nine months to witness the abdomen swell to epic proportions, experience changes in appetite,  adjust to disrupted sleep patterns,  and heed the call of frequent bladder demands.  These changes prepare mothers for the physical reality of impending motherhood.  At the end of gestation, most mothers will tell you they are ready to give birth and eager to get the "show on the road."  The beauty of God's timing and design for life finds its home uniquely engineered into the physical and emotional mechanics of a woman's body.

Though I was still unsure about the direction and details of my future, I was definitely ready to begin the journey of motherhood.  Tony's love for Melanie was solid and I knew that being a father was the joy of his life.  He was "hands on" from day one and was drawn to his new role as "daddy." We both had a strong support network in place and our families stepped up in every way.  Strangers and friends donated items, people handmade and bought gifts to lift the burden of needs that accompany new life.  With the outpouring of kindness and generosity from many contributors-known and unknown, I was beginning to feel as if my trembling feet were planted once again and touching solid ground.   I felt optimistic about the future and could visualize goodness in my life.  God's gentle love was cradling me as I rocked Melanie in my arms.  My spiritual awakening was truly in the baby stages.  Melanie and I would begin our journey together.  Her infant days would mirror my spiritual birth into a journey toward truth.   As Melanie nestled in my arms, I rested calmly in the Almighty.

I began thinking about God more and more, contemplating deep thoughts.  Again, I was retreating within but this time without a heavy heart. Giving birth was a powerful experience and I could see the beauty of God's hand where I never had before.  Being a woman afforded me a unique opportunity to see God, my personal faith, and the universal church in a meaningful and relational way.  Some discoveries hit me fresh between the eyes. Pregnancy involved 3-TRImesters. The number three became significant to me as I saw the trinity anew.  Christ was 30 years old (3 decades) when he began his ministry, and 33 when He died for us on the cross at 3:00 in the afternoon.  I hadn't figured out what to do with these tidbits but was awestruck by the number three.  God could easily speak to me in this new language. He had my attention and I was listening. 

It wasn't long before I  could easily see how every human person is designed to be in relation to God and to one another. God provides physically for the most basic needs a baby requires to sustain life. It is  impossible to nurse a baby without touch and affection.  Every human needs the loving touch of another to thrive.  Hunger is also a universal need which propels an instinctive cry for food.  Melanie had a pretty good set of lungs and used them proficiently to relay her hunger.  This hunger parallel made sense both spiritually and physically.  I had cried out to God in moments of need.  It was instinctive...almost pre-programmed.  I began to thank God for my tears, in joy and sorrow,  as it reminded me of my baptismal promises.  Every time I cried, I was aware of the salty taste that preserved the knowledge that God was physically present to me.  He was with me and in me.

God designed a built-in delivery system for nourishment.  No human person could will or create a more perfect system of nutrition for a newborn.  All nutritional needs in the womb come from the woman internally.  After birth, milk flows from the breast.  Once a baby can walk, it would eat 3 meals a day.  Again, the number 3 popped in my mind. Spiritually, nutrition for the soul derives from the same divine source... Creator of all.   As a Catholic, in community, we receive the richest spiritual food where Christ offers Himself again and again in the Holy Eucharist.  I was beginning to see order.

Much later I would learn that "wisdom" and the "universal church" mentioned in scripture is always referred with the feminine pronoun.  "He" and "She" points to God and His holy church respectively. This gender significance shed light on the indissoluble value of men and women uniquely created by God.   It developed deeper still, signifying the union between God and His church, spawning life in Christ for all his children.  The sacred bond between man and woman in the sacrament of marriage is a visible sign of God and His church. It is holy and good because it is created in His image.

This holy sacrament, with fidelity between each other,  produces new life even if the union remains childless.  The vow to remain open to life as a married couple and lovingly accept children from God, affirms the order where man cannot rise above his Creator.  All authority and honor regarding the sacredness of life rightly belongs to the Father.  This self-sacrificing love produces life in the marriage, in the family and in the church.

In my infant stages, I was only able to "ooh and aaah" in wonder by new spiritual discoveries.  I knew that God was love.  Conversely, it was becoming clear that love is not necessarily God.

Once Melanie arrived, she had needs that had to be met, not only physically but emotionally and spiritually.  Tony and I didn't want Melanie to simply survive but to thrive in goodness.  Tony and I agreed to this wholeheartedly.  This agreement required that sacrifices had to be made.  The fact that we deeply desired only goodness for her made it easy to understand how God doesn't only want us to live life, but live life in abundance.  He wants His children to have the best.

Though Tony and I would forgo romantic love and remain unmarried, we were able to maintain a mutual friendship with love.  We also wanted good things for each other.  In order to progress,  we would have to mend our hurts and heal the pain we caused each other.  We would not let ourselves be blinded by our selfish emotions.  They could never be larger than our love for God nor surpass our love for Melanie.  Selfishness, fear and jealousy do not reflect the essence of life giving love.

We had to take baby steps and trust that God would help us.  We each put all of our energies into making life stable and secure so that Melanie could grow.  We were both conscious that our words and actions must be congruent and we must have unity for her sake.  We consulted each other respectfully in all matters regarding her parenting.  We struggled at times yet it was God who strengthened and guided us.

I could never have predicted what God had in store for us.  Twenty four years later, I would be sitting in a church, filling a pew (or two)with my husband and ten children-and future son-in-law, celebrating the sacrament of Holy Orders at Tony's ordination into the priesthood.  Thankfully,  I love surprises.

If you ever think your plans are great, check out the order of things.  If they are in good order, God will deliver something more spectacular than you could ever dream.  If you put yourself first and try to rearrange what rightly belongs to Him, you can expect to shortchange yourself every time.

I can not express in words how grateful I am for the goodness and wonders of God.

Love,
MOM

Temporarily out of order...part 3

With my new found peace and confidence, I dialed the phone to tell Tony right away.  My excitement was growing as the phone started to ring.  As Tony picked up, I immediately blurted out the great news.  Up until this point, I hadn't considered that Tony wouldn't share my relief in coming to a final decision.  I was so overwhelmed with joy that I hadn't contemplated my personal experience with the divine occurred only in my soul.  There was dead-pan silence screaming in my ear.  My enthusiastic joy bounced into a brick wall.

Looking back years later, I understand his reaction.  Though at the moment,  I was shocked by it.  I had taken control of a decision we "both" were supposed to be making.  He had invested hours of time and tears of his own emotional energy trying to be cooperative in this decision.  We were both parents of this little baby and he rightly wanted to be a part of the decision.  In a single phone call, I ripped the reigns away and made a swooping proclamation.  I was suddenly enlightened by the holy spirit?  I can see why he was doubtful.  The girl he fell in love with was "spiritual", but not exactly in lock step with the holy spirit.

He was underwhelmed by my conviction, and I was hurt.  The wheels of trust were springing a leak.  We started wildly defending our positions.  We were both very emotional and passionately protecting ourselves.  As the days and weeks wore on, our relationship started crumbling apart.  Though we still loved each other- trust, the first order in the foundation of all relationships, was starting to sift and sway.  Our relational disorder came into play once again.  I hung up the phone a basket case, crying a river of tears.

Though I desperately wanted unity, the hurdles toward unity were becoming higher and higher.  We both started leaning on our separate families for support.  We both backed into our own corners, and went round after round, with no winner.   We were both losing.  Why wasn't love enough?  I couldn't meditate on this word long enough.  It consumed me.  What was love?  I mistakenly thought love and unity were synonymous.

By the time I was ready to deliver, our relationship was almost non-speaking.  I asked Grandma to be my birthing coach, and we prepared to welcome this new life together.  I was happy that my mom would be there, yet sad because I knew this wasn't how it should be.  We had just left class where we watched an instructional video of a live birth.  On the way home, I started to panic.  There was so much going on emotionally that I hadn't given too much thought to the physical aspect of what was in store.  The video was very graphic.  This baby was actually going to have to come out...of me.  I remember a full blown panic attack.   I was gripped with fear once again.  Interiorly, I heard..."you are committed." Slowly, peace returned, and I no longer needed a paper bag.  I think I was hyperventilating.

Yes, I was physically committed and the only way out was through the physical pain of labor.   Another spiritual nugget.  It would be years before I finally understood it's depth and true meaning.

Just after breakfast two days before my due date, I was sitting at the kitchen table with grandma when I had a twang of pain in my lower back.  I squirmed a bit and the grimacing look on my face concerned grandma.  It stopped quickly and I shrugged it off.  Grandma's motherly intuition kicked in and she told me to go lay down.  Labor was in motion.  For hours the pains came and went, growing in intensity.  I still remember Aunt Janet painting my fingernails in between labor pains.  That was quite a manicure!

Grandma made all the necessary phone calls and summoned everyone to the hospital.  She called the doctors and made all the arrangements as I labored away in my room.  I was just waiting for someone to tell me what to do and where to go next.  Tony was at the hospital with his family and the waiting room was full of family and friends.   Despite our awkward situation, the atmosphere bustled with excitement and anticipation.

Melanie Christine was born on May 21, 1989 at 8:10 pm.  The love in my heart overwhelmed me like a tidal wave.  I was a mom now and would be forever changed in many beautiful ways.  God blessed not only me, but the world with the gift of her life on her birthday.  I was thankful and honored to receive the gift.

Story continued...part 4

Love,
MOM