In the Heart of my Home

{this moment}

needle & thREAD

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Katie and I did some sewing yesterday, but I can't show you yet because they're a surprise. I do think a sweet girl and her doll will be very pleased. Katie's skills have improved greatly this summer--all those headbands proved to be great teaching tools. Good thing, too. We have 14 more to make. Yesterday's project was a perfect opportunity to practice French seams. Katie was duly impressed with tidy seams inside the dress. 

I really enjoyed sewing while listening to Simple Mom podcasts. What a retreat for me! And Katie loved listening along. Bonus: I've discovered some fun new-to-me blogs, which, in turn, prompted me to give feedly.com a try after about six months of blog reading hiatus. Win, win, win!

I've got three books going right now. The Homegrown Preschooler is a gorgeous book full of full color photographs that captivated some of us right away. Karoline squirreled away with it for hours. I have spent enough time on soccer fields and in dance studios to know that some (many?) moms are very worried about the best preschool environment for their children. They invest a lot of time and energy and money into assuring that preschool gives a child a leg up on school and life. This book reassures a mom that an intentional mom and comfortable home can get the job done just fine. 

I ordered The Introvert's Way after I read this article. I think the aritcle is spot-on. It's really an excellent insight into and introvert's mind. I am disappointed with book the book so far. It's not nearly as thoughtful, well-researched, and insightful as Quiet is. I much prefer the meatiness of Quiet over the breeziness of The Introvert's Way.

Ten Ways to Destroy the Imagination of Your Child was recommended by Sarah about a milion times. Sarah is about batting a thousand on book recommendations throughout the years so that worked for me. My kids were utterly confused about the title, by the way. The more literal they are, the more confused. This is an amazing book in the truest sense of the word; just really top notch. Brilliantly written, incredibly thought-provoking, and potentially life-changing. This is the perfect book for the beginning of a school year because while it certainly encourages us to develop imaginations in our children, it points out how ours might possibly have been squelched and inspires us to revive it. Truly great read.

 

What are you reading and sewing this week? 

I am eager to hear!

 

  Or are you embroidering? Pulling a needle with thread through lovely fabric to make life more beautiful somehow? Would you share with us just a single photo (or more) and a brief description of what you're up to? Will you tell us about what you're reading, also? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much.

    Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your blog post or your specific Flickr photo and not your main blog URL or Flickr Photostream. Please be sure and link to your current needle and theREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and theREAD post from a previous week. If you don't have a blog, please post a photo to the needle & thREAD group at Flickr. 

       Include a link back to this post in your blog post or on your flickr photo page so that others who may want to join the needle and thREAD fun can find us! Feel free to grab a button here (in one of several colors) so that you can use the button to link:-).

 

And off they go! But your job isn't finished, Mom:-)

The sun sinks into the mountains behind us as we drive away. Goodbyes are said. The van heads home a whole lot lighter. One seat is empty where just a few hours ago it was full. Clearly, we are well entrenched in this new season of life—the season of goodbyes. We first sent a child to college six years ago. He returned home a graduate and then lived with us a couple of years while he worked to save money. We said goodbye unexpectedly three years ago when a child left at fifteen to take up residency in Florida with the U.S. National Team. We had four days to prepare for that leavetaking. He, too, returned.

 

For awhile, all nine children lived under one roof.

 

Late last December, the eldest left home again. Hard-earned money invested in a home of his own, he took a wife and left our home to create a family of his own. Two weeks later, his brother left for college. Yesterday, another brother followed. “The big boys,” as they’ve been called collectively since the youngest was two, have all gone. It’s eerily quiet in my house this morning, though six children remain.

 

I think it a happy liturgical blessing that the Church prepares for the feasts of St. Monica and St. Augustine in the last weeks of summer. Just as we send our children out into the world—whether to kindergarten or college—we have the reassurance that comes with praying novenas for the intercession of a mother-son pair whose faith is breathtaking.

 

St. Monica is the mother of St. Augustine. Her story is so worth the time of every mother. The brief version is that Monica was the wife of a pagan, who had a violent temper and a problem with alcohol. His mother was a difficult, irritable woman, who lived with the couple. Monica bore them patiently and with kindness. She prayed for their conversions and ultimately, they both died Christians.

 

Monica was also the mother of least three children who survived infancy. Augustine, her eldest, was a bit of a handful. He was a wild child who sorely tested her limits with immoral living and heretical philosophies. Monica stayed close to him and prayed mightily for his conversion. In the end, St. Augustine, under the direction of St. Ambrose, was baptized and grew into his vocation as one the greatest saints ever and a Doctor of the Church.

 

 

As I’ve witnessed the grief of mothers as they send their children off to school, I’ve noticed several things. The first is that every woman comes to this time a little differently. For some women, the grief is wide and deep and raw. I’ve seen that this is not the case for everyone. Unfortunately, a woman who aches cannot assume she will be supported and consoled. There is the real possibility that someone will scoff. This is unfortunate, because mothers do need community. The experience of launching a child into the world is not unlike the experience of childbirth. Birthing became a much happier, more humane experience when women began to share collective experiences and to advocate for measures that would bring comfort and support. So, too, we need to empathize with one another in the transition and the sending forth of our children from homes.

 

I’ve listened intently to other women this time around. Eyes wide open and ears alert, I’ve noticed a trend. Mothers worry that they haven’t done enough. As her daughter leaves for college, you give a mom a hug and assure her that she’s done a good job and all will be well and she returns your well-intentioned words of encouragement with wild-eyed panic. She worries. She worries about all the conversations they never got around to having. She worries about all the lessons in faith she never taught. She worries about all the moments of instruction and guidance and reassurance that slipped through her fingers. Was it enough? Did she do enough? Now that her job is over, will everything be ok? Sometimes, the grief upon leaving is commensurate with a mother’s fear that she has somehow failed to adequately prepare her child for the day of departure.

 

We are certain—because we know our child so well and we love her so fiercely—that it is not enough. We are certain that we’ve forgotten something. There’s more to do, more to say, more to love. And there is.

 

Here’s a hint, mom. It’s not over.

 

We don’t stop mothering when they leave home. God’s not finished and neither are you. St. Monica prayed for her son for seventeen years after she kicked him out of her house. She stuck close. He left Tagaste for Rome and she followed him there. She stay tuned into him, engaged in his life, and was prayerfully incessant. She wasn’t a nagging mother (or nagging wife, for that matter). Instead, she was a faith-filled servant of God who never stopped loving and was relentless in her firm resolve to live the Gospel. She was a teacher, a role model, and an agent of change in the conversion of people she loved well past their childhoods.

 

It’s not over.

 

It’s not too late. You aren’t finished mothering. Indeed, in many ways, it’s just begun. One of the saddest stories I’ve ever known is the story told by a grown woman whose parents were “finished” when they left her at college. They considered their “jobs” done. It’s not a job. It’s a vocation. Parenting is for a lifetime. In this age of entitlement, one thing is certain. If there is anything—anything—to which a grown child is entitled, it is the ongoing prayers of his parents and the sweet assurance that they will forever hold him tightly in their hearts. Whatever lies ahead, no matter where he goes and what he does, no matter the challenges, we will dedicate ourselves with confidence to the gentle kindness and firmness of conviction that St. Monica brought to mothering adult children.

Gathering my Thoughts

::noticing God's glory: 

The tips of the leaves are already changing color. This is early for Virginia. I read yesterday that The Farmer's Almanac is predicting an exceptionally cold winter. I believe it. I'm taking inventory of boots, coats, and gloves and stocking now. The child whom we call "Super," who happened to be born just after his father touched down upon return from a Super Bowl production turns 15 the day of the Super Bowl this year. He's already planning a party. There's a mighty storm predicted.

::listening to 

Sleepover girls eating French toast and making plans for the day. Last sleepover of the summer... 

::clothing myself in 

Fleece. It's chilly this morning but I know I'll shed layers as I go.

::talking with my children about these books

The other day, I saw the reading list for a high school. There were eight books across the curriculum, outside of textbooks. That's eight books for four years! So we've been talking about "don't miss" high school books. What are your suggestions?

::thinking and thinking

About how to explain the Middle East to kids. And how my father really did try to explain it to me. It's inexplicable really. Pray.

::pondering prayerfully

Romans 15:13

::carefully cultivating rhythm

Sigh. We made some major decisions, left two beloved teams with longtime, very close friends, and made our radius much, much smaller. 

I've reconstructed the master calendar for the next term. It's busy, but it's definitely do-able. I'm taking this week to think through every detail of rhythm and make sure that it's all intentional.

::creating by hand

I've pushed aside the "for me" blouse for the time being. Instead, I have a little birthday sewing to do for a friend of ours and I have some delicious fabric on its way for some very fun gift sewing that has spent too long in my brain. And there's a length of fabric stretched across my dining room table that is destined to be curtains for the dance studio. And then, there are fourteen more headbands that still need to happen...

::learning lessons in

finding my way around the county. I've done so much driving in other towns that I really don't know my way around my own backyard. At least I didn't until last week. After a very poor beginning in which I made my husband lost and late for work, I spent the rest of the week acquainting myself with all the (beautiful) fields all over Loudoun County as Nick and stephen had practice every day, sometimes twice a day. It was busy, but it was good, and now I have my grocery shopping, errand running mapped out for when the regular school year rhythm begins.

::encouraging learning 

You asked about this screen shot:

It's the Homeschool Helper app for iPad. Aimee uses it and I admit that this app was what pushed me to acquire an iPad. So far, I've really loved it. I'm nearly finished planning. The caveat, of course, is that I haven't actually used it yet day-to-day.

Speaking of the iPad, stay tuned for a guest post full of educational apps. Very soon!

::begging prayers

There's this private {all good} intention close to my heart. Could you send a prayer up for this intention? One day, I'll tell you all about it.

::living the liturgy

Today is the Feast of St. Monica. She's pretty special. Beautiful prayer and icon here.

::keeping house

We're making slow progress in the basement. Christian's room and bathroom have been thoroughly cleaned and sanitized. I think the kids see the potential now. Hopefully, they will be more active participants in working the rest of it. This week, I'm all about getting the house really well kept so that we begin the school year from a place of peace.

::crafting in the kitchen 

I've been stocking the freezer with the bounty of the Farmer's Market.

::loving the moments

when tough decisions are affirmed. Nick's new team played his old team in a tournament last weekend. It was good to see old friends and we all felt very loved. The new team beat the old team in the semi-finals. One dear family stuck around to watch the finals with us. It's a gesture I will long treasure. When you've spent all weekend at the Soccerplex with two different kids playing and they're both finished and you really can go home and have half a Sunday, it's a big deal to stay and watch one more game. Turns out this game went to overtime and then penalty kicks. Nick was in goal for the PKs, made some great saves, and won the championship. It was a very sweet moment. Throughout the course of the day, the dear friend who made it all work for me last year, told me all about her decision to send her kids to school. It's the right decision for their family. Just as an aside, that decision would have mean that our plan would have come crumbling down had we not moved the boys closer. All good.


::giving thanks 

for peace as the new term approaches.

For some special people who sent Christian off with more love than I could have imagined. They chose the verse for Christian, but I've been carrying it around and considering it in my own heart a great deal since that night. 

::planning for the week ahead

I need to take Mary Beth to get her driver's license. Feel free to pray for that.

The rest of the week is all about preparing for the school year.

We have a great deal of activity coming our way this weekend. Nick has a tournament in Maryland. Patrick plays Friday night and Monday in Charlottesville. Tuesday is our "official" first day of school. I think I see apple picking on the agenda that day.

Aug 25, 2013

Gospel
Matthew
13:47-53

Jesus said to the disciples:
“The Kingdom of heaven is like a net thrown into the sea,
which collects fish of every kind.
When it is full they haul it ashore
and sit down to put what is good into buckets.
What is bad they throw away.
Thus it will be at the end of the age.
The angels will go out and separate the wicked from the righteous
and throw them into the fiery furnace,
where there will be wailing and grinding of teeth.”

“Do you understand all these things?”
They answered, “Yes.”
And he replied,
“Then every scribe who has been instructed in the Kingdom of heaven
is like the head of a household who brings from his storeroom
both the new and the old.”
When Jesus finished these parables, he went away from there.

Think:
"God does not measure our perfection by the many things we do for Him, but by how we do them."
- St. Francis de Sales

Pray:
God of love, help me to see You in them. And then animate me to act as if I truly believe that You are real. Because I do.

Act:
This is your one life, your one chance to live all in for Him. There are countless opportunities every day, wherever you live, to throw yourself headlong into His arms and then to move with Him throughout the world, doing the work He has planned for you. Look to those plans --His plans--this week.

{begging your grace this week: blogging from my phone. please excuse any messes.}

How can we pray for you?

{this moment}

Last week, just before Christian left for college, some important men in his life gathered to send him off. When he was in the eighth grade, a youth basketball league was just getting started in our little town. They were short coaches and so they asked some of the players to coach a second grade team. Since Christian had a brother in the second grade, he volunteered. It's on the sidelines of neighborhoods gyms that our boy found his gift and shone his light. Over the last 7 years, he's coached countless teams. One season, he coached Nick, Stephen, and Mary Beth, each on a different team. Or maybe he did that for two seasons; I can't remember. 

What I do know with certainty is that he is the winningest coach in the league's history. More than that, I know (because I edited a paper on his player selection strategy) that he's always had a heart for the kid who needs a boost. And he has an extraordinary gift for boosting. 

So, two dads who have coached with him throughout the years invited all the players who have ever played for him and they sent him off to do good in another small town. There were speeches. There was a beautiful slideshow, the gift of my friend Jenn.There was an announcement that he is the first coach ever elected to the Mercer-Lunsford Basketball Hall of Fame. And there was a tearful send off from the players he's touched the most--his brothers. 

I've clipped just the end of the Stephen's speech (given on behalf of Stephen and Nick) because he sure summed up this moment for all of us.

 

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For we are his handiwork, created in Christ Jesus for the good works that God has prepared in advance, that we should live in them. Ephesians 2:10

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needle & thREAD: stuck

There was a lot of goodby-ing happening here this week.

#christiangoestocollege

#cousinsgotocollege

#hilarygoestocollege

Lots of people left in a house (that suddenly feels bigger) to cuddle and comfort and eat ice cream out of the carton with.

And there was a whole lot of lesson planning.

Alas, there was no actual sewing.

 

I did make a decision. I washed and dried some fabric. I pushed the planning books aside on the table. I cut out the pattern and set about to pin it. Before pinning I read the directions, hated them, wished Oliver + S made patterns for adults, consulted every sewing book on my shelf and every pattern stashed to see if there were something else for me to sew for me, and then decided to just go ahead and conquer the Lisette pattern.

When I pinned it, I realized I didn't have enough fabric. So, I washed and dried different fabric from the stash. As I was pinning that I read on the pattern piece that the finished bust measurement of the smallest size on this pattern is 4 inches larger than my actual bust measurement. Tell me, ladies, is this too much ease? Should I buy a smaller pattern? I'm stuck until you advise.

I'm still reading an advanced copy of Hands Free Mama's new book. Good reading, but I keep finding myself putting down the book to go find and do something with my kids;-)

 

 

 

What are you reading and sewing this week? 

I am eager to hear!

  Or are you embroidering? Pulling a needle with thread through lovely fabric to make life more beautiful somehow? Would you share with us just a single photo (or more) and a brief description of what you're up to? Will you tell us about what you're reading, also? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much.

    Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your blog post or your specific Flickr photo and not your main blog URL or Flickr Photostream. Please be sure and link to your current needle and theREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and theREAD post from a previous week. If you don't have a blog, please post a photo to the needle & thREAD group at Flickr. 

       Include a link back to this post in your blog post or on your flickr photo page so that others who may want to join the needle and thREAD fun can find us! Feel free to grab a button here (in one of several colors) so that you can use the button to link:-).

 

Cease Driving

{{I apologize in advance for the length of the post. You did ask;-)}}

“I can’t do this.”

    It was the first thought in my brain that morning. The first thought before I mentally scanned my day. The first thought before morning prayer. The very first thought.

    I cannot do this.

    I didn’t know precisely what “this” was. I hadn’t even fully wakened enough to know what day it was. I just knew that whatever “this” was on this day, it was beyond me. I’d walked a long road to get to that morning. I remember the last weekend before our eldest, Michael, had his first soccer game. I knew—as much as one can know without really knowing—that life as I knew it was about to change. It began slowly enough, to be sure: a couple of practices in the neighborhood and a game every week. Michael was nearly four years older than his next brother, so we maintained that pace for a few years, even finding ample time to add Little League baseball to the mix.

    We moved when he was nearly 8. I was pregnant with Mary Beth, my fourth. We moved into one of the first houses in a new town. There was no local soccer. There was no local baseball. I found myself in the car, driving away from our new town in order to provide opportunities for Michael to play. Christian started playing, then Patrick. I was loading babies and toddlers into the car and driving all over the place, including back to the town from which we’d moved. I almost always allotted 45 minutes to an hour of drive time each way. I live in one of the most heavily congested suburban areas in the country. We drove; it’s what we did.

      It didn’t take long to learn that our children are athletically gifted. We sought the best opportunities and they sought us as well. And we always made our decision about a team or a club in light of what they could offer our child, always figuring that we’d work out the logistics.

     When Mary Beth started dancing, we used the same paradigm. At first, the dance commute wasn’t too bad. But as the area grew, that particular drive took on nightmarish traffic snarls. It wasn’t far to go, but it could easily take an hour to get home. In the car with a crying baby or cranky toddler.

    Five years ago, Nicholas and Stephen joined teams in McLean. Without traffic, on a perfect day, my GPS tells me that the field is 40 minutes away. But we usually traveled during rush hour and we tried to avoid the tolls as much as possible. It’s longer. Always longer. They sometimes practiced back to back at the same fields, but not always. And we could usually work out a way to get them there four to six days a week. Almost always. But never without much stress on my end.

    Mike’s father helped in the beginning, until he began to fail and couldn’t make the drive. Michael helped when he was home, but he mostly away at school. Patrick helped the first part of last year when he was on his way to DC (well over an hour each way) to practice. And Christian helped All. The. Time. Christian, who hates to drive as much as I do, helped and helped, and helped. It’s no small irony that Christian was sitting at Nick’s practice when JMU called and told him he’d been offered admission for this fall. With that phone call, he was liberated from driving in northern Virginia.

    We made some wonderful friends in McLean. Last year, Nick’s practices were from 4:30-6:00. Stephen’s were from 8:30-10:00. That’s a whole lot of hanging out in another town time. Frequently, I’d drop the boys at my friend Robin’s house early in the afternoon and then come back home so I could be with the girls at their afternoon activities. This meant I had to wrap up our schooling by 1:00 or so three or four days a week. Robin is a homeschooler and the theoretical plan was for the boys to work at her house, but it rarely worked out that way. They’d go, hang out, play, talk to Robin and her husband Kenneth for hours on end. Robin would feed them dinner and get them to training and they’d wait at her house until Mike picked them up on his way home from work (if he was in town). It’s a system that worked on paper. The paper doesn’t show how much they loved Robin’s family and how much her family loved them. It doesn’t show the other deep bonds formed with families in McLean over the course of five years. It doesn’t show how we loved welcoming babies into Becca’s family and how much we appreciated Brian’s kindnesses. The paper just shows a convoluted “system.”

    Leaving. I was always, always leaving town. In the seventeen years we’ve lived here, I’ve always been leaving. For many years, there was no church here for us. We had to leave. The homeschool co-op was the next town over. Soccer. Baseball. Dance. The library. The only thing that was local was basketball. I always loved basketball season, in no small part because practices were very close and Saturday mornings found me on the bleachers with a friend and neighbor. Other than basketball, though, I was gone. My friends were not local; they were in McLean. Or Herndon. Or Fairfax. And I never really felt “at home” in my town. Seventeen years and I didn’t feel settled.

    In the spring of 2012, Mary Beth was the first to come to her senses. The pressure of commuting and the ill-fitting dance school became more than she could bear. She cried out in the insanity and even though it was very, very late in the dance season, we moved her. To a studio that is five minutes from my house without breaking any traffic laws. Last fall, we let the little girls join her.

    Since Karoline and Sarah were much younger than any of our other children when first they began an activity, I was determined to be there during there classes. We finagled all the driving to and from McLean. The boys were leaving our house around 1:30 some days and I was driving home from Stephen’s training as late as 10:45 some nights. Running. Racing. Striving to fit it all in. When I was at the dance studio, though, I sat. I talked to my neighbors. I had time to make friends. It began to dawn on me that most people connect this way.

    Cease striving.

    Wait! What? Did God just say, “Cease driving?”

    Maybe he did. Stephen was first to change clubs. He lost in the State Cup semi finals to a team in our county. Yep. While we were driving all over tarnation, our county was building good soccer right in our backyard. Stephen’s team was falling apart (this is a phenomenon not uncommon in teams just before the high school years). Most of his friends were leaving to play in a county even further from our home. He was offered a coveted spot on a team that is ranked #1 in the country as I write. His friendships in McLean are deep and lasting, I believe. I know we’ll have to work at maintaining them, but this kid is intensely loyal. Those friends are friends for life.

    I had no intention of moving Nick. Nick was the starting goalie on the State Cup Champion team. He had wonderful friends on that team and so did we. But then there was that morning. The “I can’t do this” morning. And somehow, it all started to fall away. Even though we were well past tryout season, Nick was invited to try out for the team in his age group in Stephen’s new club. I dropped the girls at dance and drove him to the tryout. It took me 7 minutes. I sat with a book while he played. Mary Beth called. Karoline was crying in the background. She never cries. It was clear she was sick (or something). I was there 7 minutes later. If I’d been in McLean, I would have been frantically calling. Could someone at home go get her? Could someone come to McLean to get Nick so I could go get her (it would take me nearly an hour to get to her)? Could Nick stay at someone’s house? In the moments it took me to get from Nicholas to Karoline, I understood what was fueling my anxiety. It was just the steady fear that comes with having no margin. No room for something to come up.

    The reality is that I’ve struggled with fullblown anxiety since last fall. I always have to work to keep anxiety at bay, but since last fall, I’ve been losing the war. Let’s see, last fall: There was the home renovation, Patrick’s final high school semester, planning for Michael’s wedding, a very intense semester for Christian that required hours and hours of my full time and attention, and there was this crazy commuting. I kept striving.

    It is mid-August as I write. This week, I’ve driven pastoral roads to arrive at Nick’s practice. Today, I’m sitting in the parking lot while Nicholas trains. I hope and pray that when practice is over, he walks off the field chatting with his teammates. It’s never good to leave the field alone when you’re twelve. I hope I haven’t wrecked his life because I woke up one morning and recognized that I was in over my head.

    The last of my three big boys to leave will leave home for new horizons this afternoon. All the girls are dancing locally. All the boys at home are playing soccer locally. There will be no pressing college deadlines, at least for this semester. I made a last minute decision not to enroll Mary Beth for dual credit classes. I just need a break from our community college and its incessant demands. Christian’s last year there squeezed every ounce of energy from me. On the morning that I decided not to enroll her, I took Mary Beth with me grocery shopping instead. On the way, we discussed the list her youth minister asked her make. We chatted about this post and that and how I’d write that list if I were her age. All in all, time well spent. At the grocery store, we ran into an old friend. She is the lovely woman in whose home Michael bloomed during high school. She was his art teacher, his best friend’s mother, his Confirmation sponsor. Big hugs. Smiles. And the announcement that she’s going to host art again in that warm, beautiful house. Would Mary Beth and Stephen and Nick like to come? I could answer enthusiastically in the affirmative. There was time in the margin.

    On the way home from the grocery store, the phone rang. It was my friend Leah. Leah and I were pregnant together for the first time back in 1988. We go way back to lazy days of walking babies a couple miles to the park every afternoon because we didn’t have a car. She told me she’d been offered a new job. She’s to be the manager of the brand new library in my town. I admit that I cried.

    It was as if God Himself said, “You need margin and you need community. I knew this about you before you did and I’ve already moved mountains to provide it so that you barely have to leave home.” I’ve spent the last couple of days planning for the academic year. I do so knowing that there will be at least three extra hours in every day. It is rather amazing what this knowledge has done for my creativity in planning. There is still anxiety. I worry about Nick, who left so much in McLean and who is shy and slow to make friends. But Nicholas noticed this summer that our home had a revolving door in front. In and out and in and out went girls of every age from the dance studio. And he noted that he’s never had friends in and out of our house. We were willing to drive to McLean up to six days a week, but rarely did someone drive to us. We all want our house to be the place where friends gather and we are all hopeful that the season for that begins now.

    It’s been nearly 13 years since I had “only” six children at home. It was the year Nicholas was born. I still remember looking at those six gathered around the Christmas tree the day we brought him home. I remember thinking six children was the perfect number. Of course, perfect for us turned out to be nine and God would gift us with soft pink bundles at the end of the line. Nine children at home pushed me to my limit. There is no denying it. The morning I knew I could not do it, I was broken open, flat out spent, poured empty of everything I had. That was the morning I genuinely ceased striving. I surrendered. God had a better plan, a better idea than all my carefully color-coded calendar contortions. And I am resting in Him for the first time in a very long time.

Hope in the Morning

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The day began with Mike vlounteering to take Nick to soccer on his way to work. Soccer is absolutely not on Mike's way to the office, but he was being really sweet and I took him up on it. The coach always gets there 15 minutes early so Mike planned to drop Nick and dash to work. 

I gave him the address (all these fields are new to us since we've just switched leagues), and off they went.

To the wrong field.

I had given him the address of the field where Stephen trains tomorrow. Go me! I'd looked up all my travel desitinations before the week began...

They got there eventually. Mike apologized on my behalf.

And then he called me and spoke sweet, unmerited words of grace.

It seems like a very good morning to unplug, refill pots of watercolor, and paint some hope into the week ahead.

Christian leaves tomorrow. I'll be back in this space on Wednesday.

My prayer for each of you is for someone to speak grace into your day.

Okra, you are truly lovely!

    

    On a whim, I planted okra last spring. Katie and I have a fondness for it. I don't think anyone else is a big fan. I planted four plants and they've done beautifully. We always have enough pods ripe at the same time to fix a light lunch for the two of us. 

Every Saturday, I buy okra from my favorite farmer at the market. It's a luxury to have enough okra to fix a proper side dish for the family. When I stop to think about it, I recognize that most of them barely touch it, so I'm pretty much just cooking okra for Katie and me to enjoy as leftovers.

    I'd never seen okra grow before this season. I was happily astonished by its stunning flowers. Even if you aren't a fan of the "slime," or the fuzz, you have to admit, okra blossoms are beautiful and those pods make pretty cute floral-stars when sliced. 

    I think fried okra comes to mind for most people, but I'm not a big fan of things breaded and fried. Mary Beth tinkered with okra and tomatoes a few weeks ago and came up with this recipe. It takes polenta to delicious places.

• 36 okra pods, cut into 1/2 inch pieces with bottoms and tips discarded
• 4-6 full sized tomatoes, diced
• 6 green onions, thinly sliced
• 1 tube of premade polenta, cut into 1/2 inch thickness 
• 2 tablespoons of Italian seasoning
• 6 tablespoons of olive oil
• salt and pepper, to taste

 

1. Heat your skillet with 2 tablespoons of olive oil. Season okra with salt and pepper.
2. Add okra to your skillet, frying it until it's just brown. Remove from the skillet and set aside.
3. Next add another 2 tablespoons of olive oil to your skillet and add your tomatoes and green onions. Cook until carmelized. Add Italian seasoning. Remove the tomatoes and green onions from the skillet, cover them, and set aside.
4. Wipe out your skillet so there are no tomato juices left. Fry the polenta in the remaining olive oil until brown and crispy. About 3-5 minutes each side.
5. Remove polenta, top with browned okra and tomato mixture. Add more salt and pepper as needed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

{this moment}

This is my husband Mike, with our friend, Brian. We all went to high school together. Brian was the best man in our wedding. He's Nicholas' godfather. He's the kind of friend who sticks closer than a brother.

Mike and Brian were on the USS Ronald Reagan this week for this moment:

This is Chris, taking command of an aircraft carrier. Chris went to high school with us, too. And I'm blessed to call Chris' high school sweetheart (now his wife), Shelley, my dear friend. Chris was in our wedding, too and Mike was in his. That was the first wedding Michael, a tiny infant, ever attended.

So there they were, all of them in San Diego celebrating something that seems so surreal to me. I had hoped to go, to make another California trip like last year's, but it was not to be. Instead, Mike went and took pictures and told me all about it. While they all heralded the milestone, I moved through my daily round, remembering.  I remembered being about 15 on a rowboat on Lake Accotink with these guys (and I remember getting perilously close to the waterfall--ahem).  I remembered my father drilling Chris at my dining room table before his Naval Academy admissions interviews. I remember when Chris and Brian heard they were "in" at the Naval Academy. And I remembered all the moments we've treasured in the last thirty years. These are moments you can't imagine when all your friends are scattering from your small town high school to colleges far and wide. You think it's all over forever. 

But it's not.

Genuine friendship? Endures and grows.

Moment by moment.

needle & thREAD

I finished last week's headbands. Zoe and Katie and I sewed away the morning on Thursday and dashed all fourteen of them up to the studio in time for ballet. They looked so pretty all together.

And I totally forgot to take pictures.

Here are three I found in the studio this morning. Pretty cute:-)

I woke up super early on Tuesday with every intention of sewing something for myself. But I couldn't get past the "research" stage. This is where I get stuck sewing for me everytime. I look at the pattern, search Flckr for pictures of other people's projects, read all those notes, search the Lisette blog, and basically just psych myself out. 

Really, I should just make a muslin and get on with it. But that would require cutting the pattern and once it's cut in that size, I can't use it for a different size if the muslin turns out too big or too small. And I don't want to trace. Besides, I don't have any tracing paper. All this to say, I'm still stuck.

But I'm going to sew this weekend. Mark my words.

 

I'm reading an advanced copy of Hands Free Mama's new book. Anyone who reads here at all knows that this message is probably dearest to my heart. I'm really encouraged by this book and I personally believe that a copy should be handed to every new mama along with her newborn. 

And I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I need this message, well beyond the obvious need to control technology. Karoline confirmed it for me. This week, we've been blessed to have a baby around. While her mom teaches dance, we've been playing with Kenley, who turned one yesterday. On Monday, after I dropped Sarah off at the studio, I surprised the kids at home by bringing Kenley home with me. Mike stopped to play with her before he left for the airport (again). Kenley loved Mike. Mike loved Kenley. And my girls were impressed with his baby skills.

Later, Karoline remarked, "I think Daddy is better with babies than you are. He had nine babies. I know you had nine babies, too, but I think he's more confident and comfortable (her words; I kid you not). No offense, Mommy, but I think he just got good at playing with kids while you were busy cleaning." 

Ouch. 

I will not miss another season.

 

What are you reading and sewing this week? 

I am eager to hear!

  Or are you embroidering? Pulling a needle with thread through lovely fabric to make life more beautiful somehow? Would you share with us just a single photo (or more) and a brief description of what you're up to? Will you tell us about what you're reading, also? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much.

    Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your blog post or your specific Flickr photo and not your main blog URL or Flickr Photostream. Please be sure and link to your current needle and theREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and theREAD post from a previous week. If you don't have a blog, please post a photo to the needle & thREAD group at Flickr. 

       Include a link back to this post in your blog post or on your flickr photo page so that others who may want to join the needle and thREAD fun can find us! Feel free to grab a button here (in one of several colors) so that you can use the button to link:-).

My answer to, "How do you do what you do?"

 

Don’t you love New York in the fall? It makes me wanna buy school supplies. I would send you a bouquet of newly sharpened pencils if I knew your name and address. — “You’ve Got Mail”

There is something about this line that rings so true it makes me smile and reach for the pencil sharpener every time it comes to mind. Especially in the fall. Read the rest here.

 

Notes to Self

::noticing God's glory: 

My tomatoes are doing good things! We won't have enough to can or anything, but we at least have enough to feed the whole family at once. And okra! Yippee. Look for an okra and tomato polenta recipe on Friday.

::listening to 

Dance studio chatter. 

::clothing myself in 

Yoga pants, t-shirt, lightweight sweatjacket. It's chilly. Really.

::talking with my children about these books

Well, not books, but stories. I love to listen to books/podcasts while I work around the house and I'm trying to share the value of that with my kids. We've recently discovered Sparkle Stories. Love:-).

::thinking and thinking

about the role I want the Internet to play in my life. Food for thought:

What it Looks Like to Have a Cyber Sabbath

Switch off the Static and Turn on Your Mind

and I'm eagerly reading an advance copy of Hands Free Mama's new book. 

::pondering prayerfully

"No book is really worth reading at the age of ten which is not actually worth reading at the age of fifty." C. S. Lewis

This is my guiding principle for the school year.

::carefully cultivating rhythm

Sigh. We made some major decisions, left two beloved teams with longtime, very close friends, and made our radius much, much smaller. I'm thinking about a post about why we did what we did for as long as we did and why we made a change. But then I think no one would ever do what we did and my experience probably has nothing to offer anyone else. 

::creating by hand

I really want to sew something other than headbands...

::learning lessons in

asking Jesus all day long.

::encouraging learning 

A number of people have asked about math curriculum. I hesitate to offer anything in that regard. Really, I've yet to find the magic math curriculum. But I do love Dreambox. 

I'm super excited about plans this year, which is a lovely surprise. For the younger three, it's going to be a Storybook Year, heavily dependent on these lists (browse the lefthand column--there aren't enough days in a childhood for the treasures here). For the older three (and the younger, too, actually), lots of fresh inspiration from these thoughts:

Nature Deficit Disorder

Teaching Boys & Other Children Who Would Rather Make Forts All Day

The Four Language Arts

Nurturing Competent Communicators

Fairytales and the Moral Imagination

 

::begging prayers

Please continue to pray for Shawn, for Elizabeth DeHority, for my friend Carmen, and for my mother-in-law, who soon begins radiation treaments.

And for a private {all good} intention close to my heart.

::living the liturgy

It's nearly time for the St. Monica novena. What a perfect novena at a time when two of my boys embark on a new college semester. Novena begins on August 18th. Join me?

::keeping house

I frequently refer to the wreck that is the basement. Last week, I posted some pictures of said wreck on Instagram. I think I surprised some people. It really is a wreck. I'm overwhelmed by the wreck. But we're making slow progress. Some big items are leaving permanently, off with Christian and his friends. If I'm honest, I think I'm working up my anger over the wreck so that I won't be leveled by the sadness that will be inevitable when he and his basement band are no longer making gigantic messes down there. What ever it takes...

::crafting in the kitchen 

I ate Domino's gluten-free pizza the other day. It was delicious. It's NOT gluten-free. 'Nuff said. 

::loving the moments

when I'm snuggling her to sleep and her hair just smells so good and life is peaceful. And light. And lovely. 


::giving thanks 

for special prayers at dinnertime.

::planning for the week ahead

The coaches Christian has teamed up with for the last several years have planned a going-away party for him on Friday. And then, he goes on Monday. I sort of have tunnel vision.

 

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iPhone pics, all mine. That one of Mike making wildflower bouquets just about does me in. 

Have a beautiful week, friends!

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

 

The internet is a formidable force for bringing the comfort and consolation and hope of the Lord to all of us. It can be an incredibily powerful medium for community. There is an unfathomable resource for prayer here. We have on the 'net the privilege of praying for people and of being witness to the miracles brought forth when fervent, faith-filled people pray for one another.

Let's be that community of hope and faith for one another.

How about this idea? What if I pop in here every weekend, share Sunday's gospel and talk a wee bit about how we can live it and pray it in our homes? And then you tell me how we can pray for you that week? Deal?

{And please, do return and let us know how prayer is bearing fruit.} 

 

Gospel

LK 12:35-40

Jesus said to his disciples:
“Gird your loins and light your lamps
and be like servants who await their master’s return from a wedding,
ready to open immediately when he comes and knocks. 
Blessed are those servants
whom the master finds vigilant on his arrival. 
Amen, I say to you, he will gird himself,
have the servants recline at table, and proceed to wait on them. 
And should he come in the second or third watch
and find them prepared in this way,
blessed are those servants. 
Be sure of this:
if the master of the house had known the hour
when the thief was coming,
he would not have let his house be broken into. 
You also must be prepared, for at an hour you do not expect,
the Son of Man will come.”

Think

What do superfluous riches profit in this world when they do not assist our birth or impede our dying? We are born into this world naked, we leave without a cent, we are buried without our inheritance.". ~St. Ambrose

Pray

Lord show me the biggest way that I tend to waste time. Gie me grace to take greater control of that part of my life today.

Act

If there is some actitivty you think wastes your time (TV, computer, telephone, etc.) give it up today. See what opportunities arise in the pockets of time you free up. And do consider a regular cyber Sabbath.

This week's Think-Pray-Act is taken from Small Steps for Catholic Moms, available now for pre-order on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.

How can we pray for you this week?

{this moment--or two}

Read all about it here.

needle & thREAD

Good evening! We had a busy morning here. I had this bright idea to make headbands out of jazz costumes. Some of the girls in Katie's company had costumes that never fit right. I'd promised them we'd cut them up after the season ended. They were already stretched and ripped beyond wearing again. It was a bit of a miscalculation on my part. There isn't enough useable fabric in the stretched out/ripped costumes to make headbands for everyone.

If you have ever loved a group of 14 ten-to-eleven-year-olds, you know it would have been very bad form to make headbands for some, but not all. 

So, a new plan was hatched. We chose fabric from my stash and Katie, her friend Zoe and I began to make headbands for all 13 (14?) girls in the company. Zoe will be back in the morning to finish. 

I'm reading It's All Good by Gwyneth Paltrow. Haven't tried a recipe yet, but it sure is pretty!

 

What are you reading and sewing this week? 

I am eager to hear!

  Or are you embroidering? Pulling a needle with thread through lovely fabric to make life more beautiful somehow? Would you share with us just a single photo (or more) and a brief description of what you're up to? Will you tell us about what you're reading, also? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much.

    Make sure the link you submit is to the URL of your blog post or your specific Flickr photo and not your main blog URL or Flickr Photostream. Please be sure and link to your current needle and theREAD post below in the comments, and not a needle and theREAD post from a previous week. If you don't have a blog, please post a photo to the needle & thREAD group at Flickr. 

       Include a link back to this post in your blog post or on your flickr photo page so that others who may want to join the needle and thREAD fun can find us! Feel free to grab a button here (in one of several colors) so that you can use the button to link:-).

Throwback Thursday: En Pointe

Yesterday, Jenny mentioned in the comments that she remembered reading about Mary Beth's first pair of pointe shoes. I'm so glad she commented. I've been thinking about that day too, but Jenny's comment urged me to find the post. And when I did, I was so glad I kept a blog back then. Reading my words, and seeing my hopes in print, and then knowing the rest of the story? Well worth the price of her first pair of pointe shoes, Katie's first pair, all the shoes between, and all the shoes to come. 

Here's that long-ago post.

Needle & thREAD will go up this evening. I've got a big sewing project going this morning. Pictures later (don't get too excited: more and more and more headbands;-)

I left the dance school yesterday with all my instructions from Mary Beth's teacher, Miss Mary. I knew where to sew the elastic and where to sew the satin ribbons. I knew who to request at the dance store for the fitting (only Esther was to be entrusted with this job). And just in case I didn't know, as I was leaving, Miss Mary reminded me of one more thing, "She's not a little dancer any more. Now she's a big girl." Ah, yes. Why is it this day seemed so far off way back when she was twirling for Miss Missy in my dining room?

And so we arrived at The Cinnamon Tree. This was the dance store where I first purchased that outrageously expensive pink skirted leotard because I'd always wanted a little girl in a pink skirted leotard. At the time, Mary Beth was my only girl; a little pink angel in the midst of five brothers. On this day, I had another little girl by the hand and still another in my arms. We walked through door, led by Mary Beth, her hair still pulled up from dance class, her back straight and her stride the unmistakable walk of a ballerina. She sat for her fitting and I snapped pictures. I noticed that Mary Beth was so excited the both her hands and her feet shook.

And then, Esther  held her hand and asked her to go up en pointe. Mary Beth did and I heard a collective gasp from the ladies in the shop. "You did that beautifully!" exclaimed Esther. I will never know if such exclamations come with the purchase price of one's first pointe shoes, but my little girl  ballerina flushed with joy.

En pointe.

Two little girls took it all in, inspired once again by the truest heroine in their young lives. Katie will remember every detail of this day and she is likely to talk about it for the next six years until she claims a day like this as her own.She spent a good deal of time begging for a pink skirted leotard. Not this time, my girl.  And Karoline. Karoline, who speaks very little English at this point, can do a pretty admirable passe, to go with her burre, her port de bras, and her arabesque. Karoline is a dancer in good company. And right now, she has in Mary Beth the best teacher in all the world.

En Pointe

"I feel that the essence of dance is the expression of man-- the landscape of his soul." ~Martha Graham 

"To leap becomes, while it lasts, heart pounding, breath hurting, the deepest, the only joy." ~Denise Levertov

"On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined." ~George Gordon, Lord Byron

"When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that." ~William Shakespeare 

{photo credit: Mr. Sasha} 

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Katie got her very first pair of pointe shoes yesterday. We all might have been a little giddy:-). Local folks, I can't say enough good things about Heather's Dance Boutique in Manassas. They were so patient and they made it the special occasion that it was. (And no, I'm not being compensated to say that; I just genuinely wish for every little dancer the experience Katie had yesterday.)

Notes to Self

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{All photos are a GIFT from my friend Nicole. I was afraid to take my camera to the beach. }

I have a dozen or so blog posts running through my head. I'm pinning notes to myself here and hope to follow up later this week.

::noticing God's glory: 

 Mike helped me in the garden this week. Actually, he began the task while I was at the beach and we finished up together when I returned. It's been so wet that there was a riduculous amount of weeding and pruning to do. I'm so grateful for his help and his company!

::listening to 

Silence. It's crazy early, but I have to grab it while I can get it. It's going to be a very rare thing very soon. 

::clothing myself in 

These shoes. Several people have asked about them. I love them. I wear them every day, everywhere. Skirts, shorts, jeans. They're awesome!

::talking with my children about these books

We're wrapping up our Shakespeare studies with Christian. Actually, we're wrapping up all our studies with Christian. This is a bittersweet time, indeed. We shall continue our Shakespeare Fridays in the fall.

::thinking and thinking

about how I think the Internet is the modern day Tower of Babel. It's amazing how people come together and completely misunderstand one another!

::pondering prayerfully

"There is a small lack of humility in wanting to be Mary before having worked with Martha." ~St. Teresa of Avila

::carefully cultivating rhythm

Well, then. Some pruning happened in the garden, but some even more significant pruning happened in our planning. I think I might even have a sense of peace about our rhythm. More on this one later.

::creating by hand

There is a lovely bunch of ten-year-old girls who have squeezed into ill-fitting jazz costumes for the last time. I promised them all that we would make them into headbands after the last show. The time is now. Going to try to fit that into a very full week.

::learning lessons in

letting go. Here we go. It's August. Countdown to the Great Leaving. This time last year, all nine of my children lived in this house. In nine months time--from December to August-- the oldest three will have flown the nest. All boys. The dynamic of this household is definitely changing. Christian leaves in three weeks. I've never been away from Christian for more than six days. 

Ahem.

Moving on...

::encouraging learning 

I'm very excited about plans for the new term. The absence of the big boys and some pretty drastic changes to our rhythm will yield very fruitful days, I hope. Not that the big boys disrupted our rhythm. 

Well,actually, they sort of did.

I'm super excited about plans this year, which is a lovely surprise. For the younger three, t's going to be a Storybook Year, heavily dependent on these lists (browse the lefthand column--there aren't enough days in a childhood for the treasures here). For the older three (and the younger, too, actually), lots of fresh inspiration from these thoughts:

Nature Deficit Disorder

Teaching Boys & Other Children Who Would Rather Make Forts All Day

The Four Language Arts

Nurturing Competent Communicators

Fairytales and the Moral Imagination

 

::begging prayers

Please continue to pray for Shawn, for Elizabeth DeHority, for my friend Carmen, and for my mother-in-law, who soon begins radiation treaments.

::living the liturgy

 Daily Mass: critical to the new rhythm.

::keeping house

Last fall --actually all last year-- I prayed a very specific prayer for our house renovations. I prayed that this place would beautifully reflect the living of God's will as a Christian family. I had visions of ladies' Bible studies and a Catechesis of the Good Shepherd atrium. Perhaps, in time, that will happen. But last night, I had a rare flash of insight, kind of a Holy Spirit pat on the back. 

Patrick has come home very frequently since leaving in January. He has never, ever come home alone. Always, he brings someone along. Last night, after he won a National Championship in Richmond, we got home around 1:00 AM. We rolled in with eight of our children and five extras. One of the girls whom Patrick invited sighed a happy sigh when she walked in and said, "It smells like home. It's just so nice." If my mission these days is to be home away from home for homesick college students, I'll take it.

And be very grateful. Not what I imagined. Better than that, right now. 

::crafting in the kitchen 

I learned a thing or two at the beach last week. Only the girls and Nick came with me. Cooking for six, when five of them are female? Much. Less. Food. I overpacked. I had leftover spaghetti three meals! This fall, I might just make a recipe or two as written, instead of automatically doubling or tripling. Weird. 

::loving the moments

when they are reunited. Karoline was literally giddy upon seeing Katie after being separated for a week. She missed her so much!


::giving thanks 

for going and coming home again. All last week, it was just Karoline, Sarah, Mary Beth and Christian at home. Everyone else was off on an adventure. They all had a grand time. They're all glad to be home.

::planning for the week ahead

I had so much planned for last week. Only four at home, I was going to finish school planning and dig out the basement and deep clean closets and on and on. Instead, I had a whopper cold that completely leveled me for the entire week. The upside is that with so few children home, I didn't get way behind being sick. The downside is that I didn't really get to relish the week the way I'd hoped. 

This week is crazy busy. The pre-season intensives have begun. There will be much driving hither and yon. All the beds are filled and there were yoga mats and sleeping bags on the floors as well last night. Tomorrow is a Big Day in the Life of Katie. Her very first pointe shoe fitting:-). Wednesday, we are looking forward to a visit from a Colorado family on Wednesday. And I hear there is a plan for date night on Friday. 

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iPhone pics, all mine.

Have a beautiful week, friends!