50 Years

Three years ago I wrote a post about an EPIC night shared by my parents and aunt and uncle on the occasion of their 1st and 5th wedding anniversaries.

It involved fishsticks and champagne and steep San Francisco streets and a poor dude who had the nerve to drive through an intersection when it was not his turn.

This year is my aunt’s and uncle’s 54th wedding anniversary. Two weeks ago, they were there for my parents’ 50th anniversary party. We had fishsticks and champagne. I understand why there was puking the first time.

Two days later, there was a party and everybody came. My dad asked my brothers and me to speak at the party, and we did. But before the party, I told my parents this:

The world knows how we feel about you. That will not be news to anyone in the room. 

But the ones who should talk are you. You’re the ones who made it. You know the secret for being married 50 years and still liking each other so much that you spent 7 weeks in a trailer the size of a laundry room and lived to tell. Explain that there was lots of champagne and there were also fishsticks. Probably more fishsticks than champagne on the day to day, if we’re being honest. Dispel the myth of the perfect marriage for everyone in that room.

I knew what I was asking: that they consider speaking with truth about their relationship on a day when it would have been so easy to sit at the head table and let the admiration wash over them like a wave.

But I also know my parents. They want to serve others, even at a party in their honor.

So they did it. They told the truth about being married 50 years. They did it with humor and grace, and they did it for the newlyweds in the room, and the couple with young kids who haven’t slept in years, and ones with three kids going 12 different directions who feel like ships passing in the night, and the empty nesters who are about to get to know each other all over again, and the almost retireds who are worried about how they will fill their time together, and the ones where “for better or worse, in sickness and in health” has become a challenging reality. They lived each of those seasons, and spoke about them with wisdom and faith.

They took a room full of married people and reminded us that our experiences are common, the good and the bad, and that we have each other to lean on. It was hopeful and life-giving.

It was so much better than a champagne toast in their honor.

(We did that too, though.)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advice for the Bride

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Last weekend we had a bridal shower for Teresa and I had this brainstorm that as we ate, all the wives could give her advice based on the length of their marriage. I called it Sage by Age.

We probably had 20 married women at the tables. Their advice was amazing and honest and funny.

The first wife was Rachel (5 years) and her advice was to argue naked and never go to bed angry.

The middle wife was Teresa’s mom Lorri (26 years) who said she does go to bed angry but maybe she’d try the naked thing and see if that helped.

The last was my mom, married 50 years in August.

I filmed her. I should have started earlier, but the whole thing was off the cuff and then it was so good that I was listening and learning and it didn’t occur to me to film until it was my mom’s turn.

But I got my mom and it was worth it for that alone.

Share with the brides and wives in your life!

Average Mom

My friend Tonya posted this on her Facebook page. I paid close attention because she doesn’t usually say this much. It’s pretty phenomenal, so I asked if I could share it here. 

My children all unanimously decided I was “an average mom”. We were all having a deep and insightful conversation over dinner last night, and at one point in the dialoguing, I was coined this term….”average”.
Now….let it be known that I’m extremely sensitive and take most direct and potentially opinionated comments towards me personally. However? I found myself laughing inside and out, that my children were all on the same page regarding this fact!

They, in true insightful form, had reason to back their theories! I listened and opened my mind as best I could. I was captivated at their strong and researched hypothesis….case in point…I am a “mom”, I am a “hairdresser” and “photographer” and I am, at times, a homemaker that doesn’t bake.

I am comfortable submitting to my children’s opinions and theories. I am comfortable seeking their opinions and their perspectives and I am VERY comfortable confiding in them and trusting them, because they are “beyond average” and have shown me though example and concrete evidence, that they are worthy.

After we all went to bed…I pondered this and realized? I’m glad that I am average in their eyes. In my humble opinion, that moniker makes me “approachable”, “attainable” and “real”, and, let’s be honest, it makes me human to them. All of a sudden, I felt a little “average” tinge of victory as a mom!

I want to enable them with all the artillery they need to achieve their dreams. I want to applaud and encourage their journeys. I want to see their successes and failures shape them into the best versions of themselves. I want to empower their unique gifts and qualities and help illuminate to the world all they have to offer. I want to take the brunt for them and elevate my 3 to the heights they are meant for. And the person best for this job? Is their “average” mom! Because? Sometimes? It takes a mediocre type of thinking to see the magic and beauty within others.

See?

We are all instrumental in the big picture…we all play a role and we all bring something unique and special to the table. Whether we are “average” or “above average” or “below average”….(whatever those guidelines mean???) We all have something to offer. Let’s honor “us” and support others, and let us begin to look beyond…for we all matter and we all have something to say; average or not! Thank you to my beautiful children for the insight I crave and need. NO better three I can think of, that have this ability to help me witness these truths within myself. I wish for you all great things, and in “great”, I MAY mean average;) Because you know what??? I may know a thing or two about what I’m talking about! ❤️

(Average mom)
T~

With Grateful Voices

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You might be tempted to kick 2017 in the behind and then slam the door on it tonight.

I sure was.

Then on the way to church this morning, Kate said she was going to miss 2017. I snorted, but Shea asked her why.

We swam with turtles! she said.

Yeah, and my football team had a really great season, said Gabe.

And I started kindergarten and played soccer, said Annie.

My volleyball team only lost one game!

I got my favorite teacher!

Mama got a job!

We got a new house!

I have the coolest man cave bedroom ever!

We got a new puppy!

I was in my first play!

One of my best friends from my old school came to my new school!

Teresa got engaged!

All the way to church they shouted out the “highlights” of the year.

Jesus knew what he was about when he said to let the children come and be among us. Adults are burdened by noise and stuff and fear. We let it steal our joy and narrow our vision. I almost let it make me feel like a year–a whole freaking year–was not worthy of my gratitude.

But my babies and their simple love of life reminded me this morning that 2017 was full of blessings and love and goodness.

It really, really was.

Happy New Year, friends. May God’s peace and joy be yours in 2018.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Emmanuel is Coming!

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I know you still have your fat pants on.

But Advent is coming.

I’m not rushing you. I have glad tidings: This year we have a whole week to get ready. None of this Thanksgiving on Thursday, Advent starts on Sunday madness.

Seven days, sisters.

Find your advent calendars. Or if–like me–you aren’t allowed to disturb the carefully crafted storage box fort in the garage, ask your husband to find it. And the wreath, while he’s in there. Try to ask before he comes back in from finding the calendar.

Click here to order advent candles from Amazon, because Michael’s and Joann’s will not have them. Will not, I tell you, and not because there was a 4 am rush for all the purple candles on Black Friday like the sweet Michael’s girl tried to tell me.

Click here to get your Advent Family Prayer Service.  About this–and if I ever taught you how to write an essay, please look away: I put it together five years ago for my family, and like all good educators, I begged, borrowed and stole it from others. I’m hoping the fact that it’s prayer will outweigh the part where I did not correctly cite my sources.

Click here if you can’t remember how “O Come O Come Emmanuel” goes.

Click here for directions on using a Jesse Tree as your Advent countdown–borrowed from Tara at Feels Like Home blog.

Click here for Advent calendars that countdown to Jesus and not Santa.

Click here for Bishop Barron’s Word On FireDynamic Catholic’s Best Advent Ever,  or Richard Rohr’s daily emails for grown-up advent prayer and reflection.

Click here for everything you need to teach your kids or grandkids about St. Nicholas, whose feast day is December 6.  And here for everything you need for the Feast of St. Lucy on December 13, a day of lights and sweets.

Because Advent used to be observed like Lent, with fasting and sacrifice, here is a more sober cookie recipe: St Hildegard De Bingen’s Cookies of Joy. And by sober, I mean half the sugar and double the butter.

Last of all, remember to Get ‘er Done, so that your heart and spirit can be at peace in this sacred time of waiting.

Blessed and prayerful Advent to you and yours!

 

 

 

Faith, Hope and Love

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Look at this girl. I met her in 1994, when she was 18 months old. With those twinkly eyes and saucy curls, she worked her way into the hearts of my family.

She was in my wedding:

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I was her Confirmation sponsor, five weeks postpartum:

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She loves on my babies:

She went to college and she dated and that was a thing because there were some practice guys who were lovely young men, but not The One. One or two of them might have been Almost The One, or Probably Could Be The One With A Lot Of Prayer, Patience and Counseling.

But this is not what we dream for the people we love. We want them to find The One.

Two years ago, praise be to God, this guy walked carefully into her life.

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The light began to shine, the angels sang, everything fell into place as God ordained it and two weeks ago, this happened:

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I never thought about what it felt like for my parents, who surely prayed Shea into my life, to see me joined with him in marriage. Then Mike called us to say he was going to ask Teresa to marry him and I was flooded with gratitude to God. All parents and godparents and side parents pray for The One, but kids are stubborn.

Mike is for sure The One and I know that because of how he makes Teresa feel. She is so well-loved by him that she glows. She laughs without cares. She shakes the small stuff. Her future is here, to have and to hold, for richer and for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death does part them.

The second best thing about them, after the way they love each other, is the prayerful and faithful nature of their relationship. They are going to do big things as they build their family and I can’t wait to see what happens next.

But first, there’s a wedding in the works! I am the mother of a junior bridesmaid, a flower girl and a lector. There’s a shower to plan and dresses to buy and general squealing into the phone over every little detail.

It’s going to be amazing.

#mikeandteresaslovestory

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Dasher

Sisters, we got a puppy.

I KNOW. But here’s what happened. Two weeks ago I was driving the kids home from Sunday school and when I got to the intersection where the Humane society is located, I felt the command to turn.

“Where’re we going?” Gabe asked.

“Let’s go look at dogs.”

“Are we getting one????” Annie squealed from the back seat.

“Only if there are puppies” I said. In the almost two years since Sugar crossed the Rainbow Bridge there have never been puppies at the Humane society. Not. Even. Once. But that day, there were four. Litter mates, surrendered without parents so only God knows a single thing about their pedigree–probably closer to ketchup than whole wheat. Two of them were all black, one looked like a black and white Springer Spaniel and one was colored like a German Shepherd.

He was the most chill. I sent Shea this picture:

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He texted “You had one job. Go to Sunday School. WHY ARE YOU AT THE HUMANE SOCIETY???.”

“God made me” I texted back. “I’ll explain when we get home.”

Other kids wait for their moms to say “Yes”. But my kids know when I text dad the picture, the deal is sealed. If it was up to me, we’d live on five acres and breed bassets. If it was up to Shea, we’d own a zoo.

Surely it is not news that our crazy sits on the front porch and hollers at the neighbors. What’s one more dog? Especially when he’s cute.