Author: fullofgracedj

We are former working moms blogging about faith, family, friends and food! In between writing about our hopes, prayers and adventures, we hope to bridge the gap between working moms and stay at home moms by providing recipes and resources everyone can use to make their family healthier.

Mogul-ish.

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Hold on to your hats and glasses:

 

We’re selling our house. And buying another!

We lived in our home in CA for the 10 worst years of the housing market since the Depression. We knew that everything we did to make that house nicer was throwing money to the wind, since at one point our home was worth half what we paid for it.

Then we moved to Oregon, where our CA dollars walked bigly. We bought the house we thought we always wanted, 3000 square feet, terrific view, enormous master bath, wood floors, and molding on every door, floorboard and window casing. It has all the trendy tics: main floor master, great room configuration, walk-out basement, on almost 1/3 of an acre in the best school district in town.

Whoop, whoop!

Don’t you believe it. The great room is the worst design idea since wood paneling; when the master bath is that big, people hang out there all the time; wood molding gets awfully dusty and wood floors show every single dog hair; and it may be 3000 square feet but the usable space is half that thanks to Harry Potter-sized closets.

About six months after we moved in, I looked at Shea and said “You know this is not my house.” He collapsed on the floor. I stood over him and said “When this thing hits a certain dollar amount, we have to sell it.”

This Fall, it hit that dollar amount. We buried a St. Joe in the front yard, hung a sign and sold it in the two weeks including Christmas and New Year’s and during the 100 year snow storm. Boom. Shea looked at the sale price and said “Hey, it’s like you’ve had a job the last two years!”

God knows, I don’t want to get a job, but with Annie heading off to kinder next year I was feeling guilty about all that stay at home (by myself) mom time. But if I can turn this house thing into the equivalent of a first year teacher’s salary? Brilliant!

I called my financial advisor (aka my brother) and asked him his thoughts on a repeat of 2008. He assures me it was a once in a lifetime event. I trust him.

Then I went looking for a fixer upper.  I LOVE looking at houses! Love it! So much that our realtor says I should become a realtor myself and make money from my obsession. I tell her to shush, so that she can make money from my obsession. We all have kids to feed!

I don’t believe in the jinx but I’m still not going to count my chickens before they hatch. Just know that oh my gosh there could be fixer upper posts in our future!!!

 

 

 

 

How do we get The Talk right?

I was having coffee with a mom friend of mine and the subject of sex and chastity came up. Her son is 12 and Gabe is 10 and Kate is 8 and while she’s early for all this, some of her girlfriends are wearing bras.

So far, we’ve covered just the facts, ma’am, with both of our older kids. I wish I had a camera when I told Kate the proper names for her parts. Her face. I pulled over, I was laughing so hard, but I have to agree with her here. We could have found more user-friendly names.

Or maybe that was the point.

Anyway, I was saying that the facts were enough for now. And maybe moving to side hugs for a few years, since the boys are face-to-boob-level now. My friend told me that in 6th grade, our Catholic school runs a sex education program with an emphasis on chastity. It has led to some awesome conversations with her son. As of this moment, she reports that he is holding out for marriage with one eye on maybe becoming a priest. Solid.

“But, Jen” she said. “When I was his age I thought the same thing! I’m still worried about when the hormones kick in. What do we say then?”

I think we all know what we don’t say. We don’t say “Because I said so” or “Because God said so”. Teenagers are naturally programmed for rebellion. Ultimatums are a bad idea.

We don’t threaten hell or excommunication from the family or church. How many times has fear of family reaction driven pregnant 16 year olds to abortion clinics? The life of my grandchild and the mental health of my child are worth far more than my need to be obeyed.

And we don’t tell them “Don’t do it. But if you’re going to do it, be safe.” Or we do, and accept that we’ve given permission to carry on.

My friend told me that another friend tells her kids what the church believes about chastity, love, marriage and children. (I did some research and found a wonderful resource here at National Catholic Register, written by Simcha Fisher)

Then she cut me side eye. “Although,” she said, “that may or may not have worked for me.”

It may or may not have worked for me either.

I had to think about why that was.

My young perception was that God lived at church, up on that cross. I heard all the reasoning about why chastity was important and I believed that God loved me. But when I started making dodgy decisions, I just stopped hanging out with him. Then I didn’t have to feel guilty. And if I wasn’t honoring Him, he surely wasn’t going to come looking for me.

Which is all wrong.

Would my behavior have been different if I knew that he was there with me? If I had a more rich prayer life where I listened as much as I talked? Where I trusted He had a plan for me that was greater than any plan I had for myself?

It’s hard to know for sure, but I will say this—for a long time in my young adult life, it was my MO to do things the hard way.  I don’t think that’s a coincidence.

So this is my new goal, as my babies turn into tweens.

TO LOCK THEM IN THE BASEMENT.

TO GET A MONTHLY DELIVERY OF KETTEL ONE FROM AMAZON PRIME.

To teach them what a give and take, talk and listen, love and be loved relationship with God looks like. To pray out loud, to model patience and to talk about how my prayers are answered. To make sure they know that God is on that cross but He will get down and come after us if we walk away. He will get down and walk next to us in the darkness when we need him, before we know we need him.

In the darkness. Like of a dorm room or the backseat of a car.

Right. There.

 

Be the Light

 

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For so many of us, this week feels dangerous. People are getting ready, which means different things to different folks.

Some are going to guard the gates.

And some are going to shepherd others to safety until the storm passes.

We all have a call to justice. But we have to listen to the way of the call. For me, even though my gift is words and my weapon is sarcasm, I am not being called to raise my voice in anger. I am holding fast to truth, to seeking it and speaking it with compassion and kindness.

Whether we go to guard the gates or shepherd others to safety, let us make sure we bring our Light.

Otherwise, we just become part of the darkness.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.        

Martin Luther King, Jr.   

Just so, your light must shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your heavenly Father.

Matthew 5:16 

 

 

Every Day is Valentine’s Day

If you and I are friends on Facebook or if you follow me on Instagram, you are more than familiar with my #everydayisvalentinesday hashtag.  You see, one day, when I least expected it, love happened.

Tory and I first met in 1987, when I started junior high.  A few years later, we became closer friends during my freshman year, his junior year.  We were BFFs the next year, and in the time before email, My Space, and Facebook, we were pen pals when he went to college.  My senior year, I broke up with my boyfriend two days before prom, and Tory came back and took me.

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Then I went to college in Virginia, he started working full time and going to school, and after the summer of 1994, we kind of lost touch.

Fast forward 21 years to 2015, we reconnected.  We had both split from our spouses, and we both had children.  We met for lunch one day, only expecting to catch up with an old friend, but we soon realized that there was much more to our unfinished story.

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Having a relationship that is based in this deep friendship, caring, and genuine love for each other (you should read what I wrote in his yearbook senior year.  #humiliating.) is amazing.  We love each other’s family, and we love each other’s children as our own.  When we started posting pictures on social media, all of our friends from back in high school were so happy for us.  And soon, #everydayisvalentinesday was born.  Pictures graced our feeds from restaurants, Christmas parties, the beach, volleyball games, Angel games, Disneyland.  Jen told me once that it’s like we’re living in our twenties again.  And you know what, it is.  Christmas Eve is even Valentine’s Day.

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But before I continue to gush, let me be clear.  We are not perfect.  Life is also tough.  We both have major things in our past that affect our everyday lives.  We cry.  And bleed.  And our hearts break.  Through custody battles, court dates, money issues, going back to work, we have made a pact:  we will get through it…. together.

Now, in my 40s, I don’t want what Valentine’s Day means for most people:  big gestures professing one’s love, on one day of the year.  The #everydayisvalentinesday that is in my life now is the feeling that is supposed to lie beneath all those flowers and chocolates and fancy necklaces.  I don’t want the prince in the shining castle.  No, give me the farmer who smells like the earth, works his fingers to the bone, and has the scars to prove it.  Tory is Ride or Die.  And I will Ride or Die for him.  He is devoted to me in a way that I have never experienced before.  Our Valentine’s Days are filled with electrical work on the house, with sewing curtains for our kitchen. Valentine’s Days are when we’re sick and lie on the couch.  They are days when we meet our parents for breakfast then shop at Costco.

One #everydayisvalentinesday we even got married.

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Our Valentine’s Days celebrate our accomplishments, but they are also when we lose our battles.  Because when you let go of ego, when you are honest not only with your partner, but with yourself, when you bear your soul, and when your partner does the same, #lovewins and #everydayisvalentinesday.

A Holy Family

Last Thursday night, Shea and I went on a date. We had dinner and then we hit Barnes and Noble to spend a gift card.

On our way out, a man approached us cautiously and asked for money. He said “We need gas to drive to Eugene.” I looked in the car behind him and saw a woman.

I knew I had some cash in my purse and as I rummaged for it, I took in the details: the man who could not look me in the eye, his pride coming off him in waves. The car stuffed with clothes and Dollar Store bags.

And in the backseat, a baby.

“You have a wee bit,” I said, surprised.

“Yeah,” he said. “My son. The shelters are full in Medford, and Grants Pass too. That’s why we have to get to Eugene.”

They turned away a baby, I thought. I offered him all the money I had, which just happened to be more than usual.

He didn’t want to take it. “It’s too much.”

“Eugene is a long way,” I told him.

That was the first time he looked me in the face. “God bless you.”

And then they left.

I told my mom when we got home and the next day she said “It makes me think of that picture you posted on Facebook.”

Maybe you saw it. It’s called “Jose y Maria” by Everett Patterson.

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Two years ago our priest told us at Christmas Mass that while Christmas is such a special and precious celebration, we make a mistake if we leave the Baby in the manger. He grew up to be the Savior of the world. He is with us.

I think we make a mistake if we leave Joseph and Mary in the manger. They looked poor and alone that night and not like they were carrying the Son of God.

If we look around we can see that they are with us too.