In the Heart of my Home

needle & thREAD

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I welcome you to needle and thREAD. What have you been sewing lately? 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 and a brief description of what you're up to? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much. Tell me about it in the contents or leave a link to your blog. I'll be happy to come by and visit!

You can get your own needle & thREAD button here in your choice of several happy colors.

I have been working on Katie's Book Report Dress. It's coming along (slowly) and I'm enjoy both fabric and pattern. 

I got a beautiful gift box in the mail last week, so beautiful that it inspired me to read ahead of season a bit. My friend Ann sent me a goodie box with a copy of her new advent devotional The Greatest Gift: Unwrapping the Full Love Story of Christmas. Isn't it just so very pretty?

So tell us all about your reading and stitching!

Happy Birthday Sarah Anne!

 

Halloween 2008 was the scariest Halloween ever.

But all that scary memory fades and what is left is just knowing His grace and seeing it come alive anew in this little girl every morning. Happy, happy birthday sweet Sarah Annie! You still have us all wrapped around your little fingers.

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{I'll be back with needle & thREAD late this afternoon}

Sari Bari Beautiful

Friends of needle & thREAD already know Beth, whose sewing posts are jam-packed with inspiration. One of Beth's big projects every year is the Sari Bari Quilt Auction. Today, in addition to the scrumptious eye candy she's sharing with her fabulous pictures, Beth shares the words of Sarah Lance, director of Sari Bari in India, who tells us about a truly beautiful movement to liberate women from unimaginable suffering.

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Sari Bari is in the business of making things new. We take cast off saris, the traditional dress of the Indian woman, and stitch them together in the kantha style of Bengal, a simple running quilt stitch done by hand. We piece and patch and layer to create beautiful, unique quilts. We are lovers of transformation and are exhilarated by the unique possibilities and potential within each sari to create something new.

More profoundly we are interested in the potential and possibilities of the women who make the products of Sari Bari. These women have found their way to freedom from the sex trade through employment at Sari Bari, where they find an opportunity for a different kind of work and a different kind of life. Sari Bari provides a safe place to be restored; to receive training as a quilt artisan, educational support, support for dependants, and retirement and health insurance. At Sari Bari not only are saris are uniquely transformed, but the women themselves emerge from the broken reality of lives as sex workers, to empowerment, healing and a way forward - truly a difficult … and a beautiful process.

 

This year Sari Bari has engaged the talented quilt artisans of Sari Bari in Kolkata, India together with quilters of all skill levels from around the world to create a unique collection for the 2013 Sari Bari Quilt Auction and Raffle.  The auction will be held at www.saribari.com from November 1 to November 10, 2013. Each quilt is stitched from either new or recycled saris. The quilts produced by Sari Bari women are made from recycled saris in our traditional 5 layer style. The other quilts reflect each of their creators, using a variety of design choices, patterns, and construction techniques.

 

In addition to the auction, we will conduct a raffle this year, giving everyone a chance to own one of these amazing quilts. For only $20-$30 you can purchase a raffle ticket for a chance to win one of the unique quilts for freedom. You will be able purchase your raffle ticket for the quilt you choose via www.saribari.com

 

How to participate:

You may place bids and purchase raffle tickets at saribari.com at any time between 5:00pm November 1 and 4:59pm November 10, 2013. Winners will be announced November 11, 2013.

 

If you’d like to make a direct donation to the work of Sari Bari, visit www.saribari.com/donate. All gifts are tax-deductible.

 

All proceeds from the auction and raffle will go toward supporting Sari Bari’s ongoing freedom work which will include:

• Purchasing a property in the Kalighat red light area so we can employ more women for freedom

• Opening our second prevention unit in 2014 in an area that is notorious for trafficking young girls and women into the sex trade

• Training for at least 50 more women who are waiting to choose freedom

 

We are so grateful for your interest in and support for the freedom work of Sari Bari and the women whose lives are profoundly changed.

This is truly nothing short of miraculous. Take just a minute to watch--it's breathtaking.

 

Wordless Wednesday

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Life Coach

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• I noted with the relief the email from Stephen's team informing me that we had overpaid fees and had a credit. Then, I ignored the note from Nick's team reminding me of the October payment. I figured the credit would cover it. Nick's team manager gently pointed out they were on two different teams. Oh, yeah. Right. Got it.
• I parked the van in the driveway, gathered up my purse and the groceries and headed for the house.  Stephen asked if maybe I'd want to turn off the car and bring the keys in with me. 
• I set aside an hour in the morning to cut out a dress to sew for Katie. Four hours later, I still hadn't finished. Ten pieces, total, and I just couldn't get it done. There I sat. Scissors, pins, fabric. Moving in slow motion. 

My friend Megan checked in late last week to see how we all were doing. I told her I needed a life coach.

A life coach. Someone to assess the situation, design a training program, nag me until I get it done. I need a life coach. 

Or do I? What if I were to be my own life coach? What if I stepped outside of myself and devised a plan? Surely, I can do this. I know--in my head--how to pull out of a deep rut. I've written an entire chapter in a book and countless posts on how to battle back from burnout. I know this stuff. 

This time? This feeling of being wrung out from grief and beside myself with worry over really big things? Why not apply the formula?

Prayer. Definitely. My prayer life is way off-kilter. To ease back in and to refine it for this season, I begin with what I know: Divine Office, only Morning and Night Prayer at first, with time spent with an open Bible both times. Then, I can add the other components to my personal prayer. This time, I've also stepped way outside my comfort zone and asked people to pray for some very specific intentions.

Sleep. We are all seriously sleep deprived around here, the kind of sleep deprivation that will require far more than just one good night to get back on track. We need to encourage sleep for one another. A corollary: when an entire family is sleep deprived, a concerted effort must be made to extend grace to one another, to be especially patient, especially kind. Arguments are easily enkindled and easily flare into a roaring fire. We have to make one another aware of favorable burn conditions and be very careful with each other. 

Planner. When the days and the details begin slipping away at an alarming rate, it's time to take my planner in hand and fill it with carefully penciled notes. Everything--every.last.little.thing--must be written. That means every deadline, every date made, every fleeting thought that flits between my ears must be committed to paper. And then the planner sits open on the counter in the kitchen. Don't know what to do next? Check the list. Do the next thing. Just keep moving. Oh, and ...

Laundry. Get the laundry caught up and keep it that way. The rest of my house follows as the laundry goes. If laundry is out of control, most of the housekeeping is scattershot at best. I don't know why this theory proves true, but it always does. Wash clothes. Dry. Fold. Put away. Repeat at least three times a day for the foreseeable future. 

Meals. For two solid weeks, I didn't want to eat, cook, or shop. The grocery store just glared harshly at me and the mere thought of walking those aisles made me shudder with sensory overload. Still, my children expectantly pulled a stool up to the counter every morning and expected to be fed. Recovery begins when meal planning begins. If I plan and then I shop, I will be compelled to cook. I admit to needing to stop at the coffee shop on the way to the grocery store in order to clear this hurdle. I bribed myself with a dirty chai to buy food. But... that was the last of the coffee runs. It's time to take good care of ourselves. Everything into our mouths must be for the noursihment of our bodies.

Move. I have promised the children we will get back to the gym. I keep my promises. 

Then there is the matter of education. We must keep learning, must move forward, even as we process the enormous lessons we are learning about ourselves in this season of grief and growth.

We had a very carefully crafted plan for September and October. There was a death in the family and an abbreviated week of school the very first week. Six weeks later, there was a bigger rupture in the fabric of our daily lives. This time, a shift in direction is indicated, an opportunity to focus sharply on just a few things and give ourselves the time and space for pulling stitches through crisp cotton or slicing apples and tossing them with nutmeg and cinnamon.  We need to pay close attention to soul-nourishing even as we sharpen our minds. 

The abbreviated "school" plan:

Math. I hate it. They hate it. Math must be done daily. End of discussion.

Writing. Stephen will begin the National Novel Writer's Month on November 1. He is spending this week exploring the site and preparing to begin. Mary Beth is going to work on a project with me in November; we are going to try to create an online workshop based on Real Learning. Nicholas, Katie, Karoline, and Sarah will each progress along their individual IEW paths.

Reading. Everyone has at least two novels for the month of November. Instead of being swept into the mini-dramas of Facebook timelines, we are going to be drawn into compelling, timeless stories.

Sarah (to be read aloud to her): Charlotte's Web and Stuart Little

Karoline: Little House in the Big Woods and Little House on the Prairie

Katie: Caddie Woodlawn and Beany Malone

Nicholas and Stephen: We are listening together to the first in the Mysterious Benedict Society series. Nick and Stephen have the last three to read independently.

Mary Beth: Under a Changing Moon, My Heart Lies South, Flight into Spring

Mama: I have some non-fiction going, but it's going ever-so-slowly. I actually lent David and Goliath to Kristin before really getting started. Beth suggested The Breath of Peace. It's on its way. Perhaps fiction is what I need right now. I might just borrow that fourth volume from the boys' set while I wait for my book to arrive. Or I'll choose one of the three set aside for Mary Beth.

Faith. Afternoons with popcorn and Catholicism. I've invested in the study guide and we are taking our sweet time.

Creativity. Each child has some creative endeavor at hand: a quilt for Grandma for Christmas, a first embroidery project, a long list of Rainbow Loom custom orders, photo album projects, homemade healing salve, and mama's new knitting. These things are key components and handwork is especially necessary to the success of the program.

In the absence of something creative with which to occupy our hands and our right brains, we have a tendency to hold some sort of electronic device and slip into mind-numbing clicking. When we are tired, when we feel disconnected from community and are not inclined to purposefully engage, we can so easily slide into cyberspace and not even notice that we are being sucked down a hole. There, in the hole, feelings of inadequacy and boredom and despondency are nourished far more than they are expunged. It's a cycle of acedia. Genuine connectedness online usually happens within the first fifteen minutes. After that, it's likely a disheartening time-suck.

A creative project to hold forces us away from the internet lull-drug. It gives us something to do with our hands--something that yields to continuous, observable progress. It also offers us an opportunity to sit a bit with our own thoughts. With hands purposefully engaged and minds working creatively, it's a good thing to wrestle a bit with our thoughts, to think them, and sort them, and perhaps successfully resolve them. Silence is healing. November is to be set aside for some purposeful silence. Yes, a bit of yarn, some beeswax, inspiring fabric, and time to touch and to ponder--all good things. 

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Same yarn, all three pictures. It's called Opaline and it really does seem to change color with the light. I think the first picture is the truest color. The first ring Mike ever gave me was a tiny opal. I was 16. His dad teased that he needed a magnifying loupe to see the stone. I loved that ring.

This yarn, this project, is a gift.

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 week, 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

Luke 18:9-14

Jesus addressed this parable
to those who were convinced of their own righteousness
and despised everyone else. 
"Two people went up to the temple area to pray;
one was a Pharisee and the other was a tax collector. 
The Pharisee took up his position and spoke this prayer to himself,
'O God, I thank you that I am not like the rest of humanity --
greedy, dishonest, adulterous -- or even like this tax collector. 
I fast twice a week, and I pay tithes on my whole income.’
But the tax collector stood off at a distance
and would not even raise his eyes to heaven
but beat his breast and prayed,
'O God, be merciful to me a sinner.'
I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former;
for whoever exalts himself will be humbled,
and the one who humbles himself will be exalted."

Think

Great graces cannot be obtained without humility. When you yourself experience humiliation, you should take it as a sure sign that some great grace is in store. ~ St. Bernard of Clairvaux

(H/T Fr. Michael Taylor, who really nailed it in the homily;-)

Pray

Oh, God, be merciful to me, a sinner.

Act

Think of a time when you have been humiliated. Forgive. Then reach out to that person.

How can I pray for you this week?

What story are you writing?

A week ago, my husband gathered us all in the living room to share news that would rock our world. My father-in-law, whom we had tucked into bed the previous night and left sleeping at home, had died peacefully in his sleep. I canceled all my writing obligations. The only thing I wrote all week was note or two for a eulogy for my husband to deliver.

When a family gathers at a funeral to celebrate the life of someone dear and to console one another in their grief, the words of a eulogy can have tremendous power. Eulogies are gifts, even more for the people who mourn than for the deceased. As I went about my business all last week, tending to the myriad of details I had previously never even considered, deviating so far from my original plan for the week that it was barely recognizable, I considered what makes a good eulogy—not what makes a stylistically good eulogy, what makes stirring oration, but what makes the summation of one’s life “good.” What really is a life well lived?

 

One thing struck me again and again. All those clichés about living like you’re dying and not being able to take it with you? They are rooted in absolute truth. My husband’s father was a few weeks shy of turning 90 when he died. He lived a long, full life of honor, serving admirably both in the military and in the marketplace. But when I took the time to ask his young adult grandchildren what lessons they learned from his life, the answers were all tucked into little and hidden moments.

 I know there are people who will beg to differ, but I think a life well lived puts relationships before resumes. A life well lived is one where all of the big decisions and most of the little decisions are made with the intent to meaningfully engage in the hearts and the souls of the people God has entrusted to us. The things that matter most in life are the things that are mostly hidden from the world; the gentle movements of hearts towards one another. A life well lived is a life full of those moments.

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Often, the big decisions that frame a genuinely good life come at the expense of power or money or worldly acclaim. We have to sacrifice an opportunity or a promotion or a bigger paycheck to invest instead in a boy in a baseball cap or a marriage straining as a family expands.  We choose a job closer to home, turn down the chance to travel, or perhaps we choose to stay at home and forego a paycheck altogether. The questions we ask ourselves when such decisions are to be made are questions of eternal significance and the answers often contradict the message of the world.

Did you ever stop to think what could be said about you in the first few days after you die? One of the greatest management principles going is to begin with the end in mind. I am not theologically astute enough to offer here an idea of what happens to a soul right after one dies, but I have to think that God is more concerned with the hidden moments of the heart than He is with the resume. I have to think that the peace in leaving and the peace we leave are both about the way we loved when we still had time. And I can tell you firsthand, what people remember are the ways that you loved.

One day, someone will write our eulogies. Right now, we are writing our lives. From my perspective, in the front pews, with the people experiencing great loss, the lives best lived are the ones that seize all the little opportunities offered each one of us every day to stop and have a conversation, to offer our help, to serve in the smallest, least noticed ways. What really defines the life of a truly great man are the decisions--big and small--he makes to live a life that is a genuine expression of love.

 

 

 

Just Being Audrey

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Let’s go back a couple weeks or so, back to when I thought the most stressful thing about the fall would be four birthdays in the same week. We kicked off Birthday Week, the Friday before it really began. All about birthday traditions, we happily said , “Yes!” when my friend Megan suggested that last year’s tea in Leesburg become a tradition. Yes, ma’am we’d love to do it again this year and every year forever!

Tea is always fun. The tea house has an authentic vintage vibe and the ladies are truly British, so it’s the real deal.  They’ve gotten their gluten-free menu down nicely since last year, too.

As an added treat, Megan gave the girls a copy of Just Being Audrey.

Such a perfect book for them!

It’s a nicely illustrated storybook that brings to life a young Audrey Hepburn who wanted nothing more than to be a ballerina. We see an age-appropriate glimpse of living in hiding during World War II and then we are treated to the grown up Audrey—first an actress and then an activist speaking for children who could not speak for themselves.

It’s a sweet, sweet book. It reminded me of a book my friend Mindy recommended to me years ago, an Audrey book for grown-ups. Her best friend from home wrote a book called How to Be Lovely: The Audrey Hepburn Way of Life. It popped up as an Amazon recommendation once for me and I scrolled through reviews to find Mindy’s name. Since Mindy is pretty much not on the internet, the whole thing startled me. So, I asked her about it at soccer one day and she shared a little insight to the author. If you’re an Audrey Hepburn fan, you’ll love the way Audrey’s philosophy of life is brought to life in the pages. In Mindy's words, 

This is the perfect book to give for birthdays, hostess gifts, Christmas, Mother's day, graduation, or any special event in a woman's life. I sent it home with 15 ladies who attended a baby shower, and it has inspired several Audrey "film-festivals." Her thoughts on how to carry oneself with style, dignity and grace will translate to any generation. "How to be Lovely" should be on every woman's night stand.

So there you go, a little Audrey Hepburn rabbit trail and a perfectly lovely birthday tea.

{{For more about our Storybook Year, please visit here.}}

needle & thREAD

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I welcome you to needle and thREAD. What have you been sewing lately? 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 and a brief description of what you're up to? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much. Tell me about it in the contents or leave a link to your blog. I'll be happy to come by and visit!

You can get your own needle & thREAD button here in your choice of several happy colors.

I haven’t much sewing nor reading on which to report. I’m definitely yearning for some quiet morning hours in which to sew and some quiet evening hours in which to read. They are not presenting themselves just yet. I promised a picture of Sarah wearing her flannel Class Picnic Blouse. There she is, playing with helicopter seeds. Don't you love those?

 

I did begin to craft a dress for Katie this morning. I’d love to work some more today and finish it tomorrow. We shall see.

 

In the reading department, I’m still very slowly working my way though Living into Community. It’s great book, one that makes me want to reach for the highlighter incessantly. But I’m learning something about myself in the reading: my reading habits have been affected by my internet habits. I’m much more distractible than I used to be. I read a quote and have to fight the urge to Google the person who said it. I’m restless and can’t settle in to do the work of reading something so meaty. Needless to say, this observation about myself greatly disturbs me. It also makes me want to persevere—because it is a worthwhile book.

 

My friend Linda asked me to David and Goliath by Malcolm Gladwell (interesting thoughts on conversion in link). She asked me to read it because she wants to talk about it. That’s a guarantee I’ll read a book. Any book Linda wants to talk about is a book I’ll read. I’ve just begun. It’s my downstairs book. Living into Community is my upstairs book. Last week, when I was resolving some long lingering doubts and wonderings, I resolved to change some habits. One of them is “internet reading.” I’ve always been a voracious reader, but until recently it was “nose in a book” reading, not internet reading.  I think the “nose in a book” me is more peaceful. Peaceful is good.

So tell us all about your reading and stitching!

Happy Birthday, Mary Beth!

Sweet Mary Sunshine,

I know that you are no great lover of birthdays. And I know that you face this day as you’ve faced the last ten days—with a very heavy heart, but I want to stop a moment and talk about the miracle of you.

You burst into our lives in a flurry of pink. It’s hard to remember that once you were the “little sister, “ so well do you play the role of big sister. But once, you were the baby. I remember one day, when you were about three months old, catching a glimpse of you sitting in your carseat on the kitchen floor. We were just about to leave house and I was gathering the big boys (they were little then). The light played across the floor and caught your face in a halo. Perfect little girl.

That moment is still bright in my memory. I think about it all the time. I saw so clearly the gift you are, the girl you’d be. Pure love shining in the light in the center of our home.

God is so good!

“They say” that mothers should not try to be their daughters’ best friends. And, of course, they are absolutely right. Mothers should, however, endeavor to raise their daughters to be the kind of women they would choose as best friends. And one day, a girl becomes a young woman and her mother sees that that young women is indeed her best friend.

Thank you for being the best friend I could ever hope to have.

I love you.

Mama

Joy comes in the morning

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"Weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning." Psalm 30:5

 

Perhaps joy will linger in the afternoon as well.

This afternoon calls for a quilt, a cup of dirty chai, and this lovely stack:

Woody, Hazel, and Little Pip

By The Light of the Harvest Moon

Autumn: An Alphabet Acrostic

Snowsong Whistling

In November

Christopher's Harvest Time

Apple Cake

Crawdad Creek

Brother Bartholomew and the Apple Grove

Mother Earth and Her Children

Pumpkin Moonshine

The Ox-Cart Man

Gathering My Thoughts

I find myself:

::noticing God's glory

There are two new trees on my front porch, awaiting some nice big holes. Mike’s studio sent us a crape myrtle and a dogwood to be planted. I’ve always wanted those two trees! I’m looking forward to getting them in the ground.

::listening to 

soccer sounds. I’m at the fields again while Nick plays. Familiar sounds of happy boys. Music, really.

::clothing myself in 

For the funeral, my boys all wore their wedding suits. A couple of them had to be let out several inches each. There was something incredibly powerful about looking down the pew at five boys dressed alike, five profiles so very much the same. Like arrows in a quiver…

 

::talking with my children about these books

The Mysterious Benedict Society! Oh my gracious, what a great book! Nick, Stephen, and I listened to it all the way to New Jersey and all the way back last week. Highly, highly recommended.

::thinking and thinking

About death and grief and legacy and blessing. I will never look at grief and mourning the same way again. I will never assume that my presence at a wake or a funeral is insignificant. I noticed every single person who came to grieve with us and I sincerely appreciated each one. This came as a surprise to me, no big lover of crowds. With each person, we were given a little piece of memory and not one was insignificant. I cannot overstate how much their presence meant to me. From a young age, Catholics are taught that burying the dead is a corporal work of mercy. Now, I fully understand why.

::pondering prayerfully

I’d love to tell you that it’s Scripture that has run through my head this week, but it’s not. At least not consistently. Instead, it’s Bette Midler.

Did you ever know that you’re my hero,

And everything I would like to be?

I can fly higher than eagle,

For you are the wind beneath my wings.

 

It might have appeared to go unnoticed,

But I’ve got it all here in my heart.

I want you to know the truth, of course I know it.

I would be nothing without you.

Thank you, thank you

Thank God for you, the wind beneath my wings.

 

Everything I would like to be. Amen.

::carefully cultivating rhythm

We’ve certainly lost our rhythm. Even the very basic stuff of life like sleep. Until last night, every night was interrupted by a child calling out in the night. Some of them were not so very small. If we can just restore sleep, I’m hopeful that the rest of rhythm will find us, too.

::creating by hand

I had a long talk with Ginny this morning about a Honey Cowl. Yarn is ordered. I still have sleeves to knit on my baby sweater and a sleeve for Karoline’s Tiny Tea Leaves, but that cowl will happen sooner than later, mark my words. Besides, sleeves scare me.

::learning lessons in

What’s really important. Careful readers will recognize that I was struggling a bit before my father-in-law died, just trying to resolve some things that have long troubled me. The loss of someone very close, together with a studied reflection of his life—very well lived—have made some of those puzzles of last month seem easy to solve. These days have been wracked with grief, but I sense certain peace in our not-too-distant future.

::encouraging learning 

Math. In an effort to regain our routine, I have insisted on math. Today, we will pull the books for “E” Week, though I don’t think we finished D. I just can’t go back that way. Better to move forward.

::begging prayers

for the repose of the soul of Eldo Merlin Foss, beloved husband, father, and grandfather.

::keeping house

My sweet sister is sending a cleaning lady at the end of the week. Incredibly thoughtful gift.

::crafting in the kitchen 

Hilary brought us lasagna on Monday. My sister sent an abundance of Chinese food on Tuesday. Kristin brought a million bagels the morning of the funeral. My mom sent sushi the night of the funeral. That’s all we ate all week. Everyone survived.

For Monday Night Football this week, Nick made Manhattan-style clam chowder. Back in the saddle. We’re getting there.

::loving the moments

when I catch his eye and know he’s remembering the same thing I am.


::giving thanks 

for friends:

::the one who received my urgent text on Sunday and prayed me home from the tournament. Neither of us knew what I was driving into and neither of us knew what Mike was already facing, but God did and His grace was sufficient.

::the one who prayed while I wrote

::the one who is too pregnant to move, but willingly sits and listens to me ramble on and on, while I try to make sense of the jumble in my brain.

::the old friends who picked up right where we left off and came to be with my family, to remember, and to comfort us with their presence.

::far-flung friends who have prayed for us and sent words of solace.

::my sister-in-law’s friends, who provided food for strangers and loved our tribe well.

::Mary Beth’s friend Molly, who sat with me for hours and sifted through years of photo memories. Sometimes friends are more than friends and when they are, they are Molly.

::Patrick’s friend, Zach, who was there with Granddad the last time my children saw him, was there on Sunday afternoon when Mike shared the news that he was gone, drove Patrick back to school, and then came home with Patrick for the funeral. Together with my boys, Zach carried my father-in-law on Saturday. We are grateful for Zach’s strength.

::my sister, the oldest friend I have. She has an uncanny knack for knowing when I’m at my absolute lowest and calling just then. Her support this past week has meant the world to me.

::living the liturgy

There is a beauty to living liturgy, a beauty that reveals itself in moments of sorrow. Planning the funeral Mass was a source of great comfort. Celebrating that Mass in community with people dear to us is a gift that defies words. God is very good.

::planning for the week ahead

We are going to put one foot in front of the other this week, trying to restore rhythm, stopping to soothe sad hearts, tending to the business at hand.

Tomorrow is Mary Beth’s 17^th birthday.

On Saturday, Stephen will play in the State Cup Final Four in Richmond. Mary Beth will go to a homecoming dance.

Life will go on.

Lord, Hear Our Prayer

Gospel

Luke 12:13-21

Someone in the crowd said to Jesus,
“Teacher, tell my brother to share the inheritance with me.”
He replied to him,
“Friend, who appointed me as your judge and arbitrator?”
Then he said to the crowd,
“Take care to guard against all greed,
for though one may be rich,
one’s life does not consist of possessions.”

Then he told them a parable.
“There was a rich man whose land produced a bountiful harvest.
He asked himself, ‘What shall I do,
for I do not have space to store my harvest?’
And he said, ‘This is what I shall do:
I shall tear down my barns and build larger ones.
There I shall store all my grain and other goods
and I shall say to myself, “Now as for you,
you have so many good things stored up for many years,
rest, eat, drink, be merry!”’
But God said to him,
‘You fool, this night your life will be demanded of you;
and the things you have prepared, to whom will they belong?’
Thus will it be for the one who stores up treasure for himself
but is not rich in what matters to God.”

Think

Just trust in Him and He will continue to lead you safely through all things. Where you cannot walk, He will carry you in His arms.  - St. Francis de Sales

Pray

Dear Lord, I know that the greatest inheritance a parent leaves for a child is a lifetime of love. Help me live that. .

Act

Tell someone how much you love him today. Don't use words.

~ + ~ + ~ + ~

How can we pray for each other this week?

needle & thREAD

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I welcome you to needle and thREAD. What have you been sewing lately? 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 and a brief description of what you're up to? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much. Tell me about it in the contents or leave a link to your blog. I'll be happy to come by and visit!

You can get your own needle & thREAD button here in your choice of several happy colors.

 

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Very little needlework is happening here this week. I actually wish I had an excuse to do more. I really want to be in my sewing room. Really.

I pulled this jumper from my giveaway pile on Monday. It was too short for Sarah. Upon further reflection, I decided to trim it with some butterflies and let her wear it to the funeral. She chose a bright pink cardigan to wear with it. Granddad would totally approve. Did you know that when your fingers are tired and your brain is mush, "butterflies" gets keyboarded "butterlifes"? I think that's what they will be henceforth.

My father-in-law was over 40 when my husband was born. It's extraordinary that we had him with us to see Sarah born when Mike was 43. Truly extraordinary. I'm trying really hard to hold tight to the gratitude I feel for that time. He was so integral to our lives, so tightly woven into the fabric of who we are. 

But I'm sad for my little girls. I'm sad that they get far fewer years, far fewer memories. He was very frail in the past few years--to frail to play with Sarah on the floor the way he did with all the others. I'm trying to see the upside, the silver lining, in being the littlest. But today, I'm not having much success. 

Thank you again for your kind words and your prayers. My family is very grateful.

Please tell me what you're sewing?

Beautiful Dance

Pasted below is a piece I wrote for Sally Clarkson about this time last year. It is, right now, the best I have to offer in this space. My precious father-in-love died peacefully in his sleep Sunday morning. I honestly don't know what that means here for the next few days and weeks. Usually, this is my place to think aloud. Yet, I am not at all sure that this is where I will be drawn as my family and I live these moments. Right now, I'm just trying to hold everybody close. He was a giant of a man in every sense of the word and he leaves a giant legacy, a giant memory, and a giant hole. 

Your prayers are much appreciated.

~*~*~*~*~

 

I stood next to my new sister-in-law and whispered, “Where’s your dad? I’m going to ask him to dance.”  

“Oh,” came the reply, sure and swift, “he won’t dance. He never dances.”  

“I think, perhaps, he will.”

And I floated off in his direction, feeling every bit the princess in a fairytale. I was The Bride that day, eager to share with everyone around me the supernatural joy bubbling up from my very core. Whatever natural shyness and reserve that would have stopped me from asking on any other day was entirely absent that day. I took the hand of my father-in-law and led him to the dance floor. Happily, and without a moment’s hesitation, he danced.

Thus began a love story I never imagined, even in my fondest dreams for happily ever after. My husband’s father, who was 42 when Mike was born, waited a long time to be a father-in-law and then a grandfather. He lives those roles to their very fullest potential. A year from that wedding dance, we did a different dance. I handed him a tiny blue bundle and sat, eyes brimming, while he poured a lifetime of love into his first glance of his first grandson, our Michael.

Shortly after that, I quit my job to stay home with my baby. Granddad retired. We both had a sense that we didn’t want to miss this, not a single moment of this, and we were going to live it intentionally, squeeze every little bit out of the gift we’d been given. We were going to dance this dance with every beat of the music.  

A little over a year from then, I was diagnosed with cancer. My father-in-love and I developed a new cadence. During the months of chemotherapy, he came over to just “hang out.” Truth be told, it sort of annoyed me sometimes. I’m a very independent sort and his presence seemed to shout, “You can’t do this by yourself. I’m here to catch you should you fall.” In hindsight, I couldn’t do it by myself and the hours he spent on the floor playing Legos, or puttering about the house fixing things or taking Michael for grand adventures to feed the ducks were probably as necessary to our survival as a young family as the surgery and the medicine. We had one car in those days and Mike took it to work. His father appeared promptly every morning , buckled Michael into his carseat and drove me to radiation treatments. While I got zapped, he and Michael sat in the car and sung classic children’s songs. Michael was absolutely convinced the outings were just another one of Granddad’s grand adventures.  

With the next few babies, he still appeared, all the time. He’d push a vacuum or trim a hedge, little jobs that were a big help. And so much more. We were a young family who knew that this great bear of a man would move mountains to see us thrive.  

On Father’s Day, when Michael was six, we gave him two blue folding chairs, a tribute to his pledge to never miss a soccer game. He had no idea. We had no idea. In all, there would be five boys and four girls in our family. That blue chair would travel far and wide. Granddad would set up camp whenever, wherever, whatever the weather. From tiny fields in our backyard to university stadiums to watch Michael play--the sidelines where Patrick scored the winning goal in the State Cup, the bleachers where Christian was MVP of the state basketball championships, and the fine manicured fields of Patrick’s National Team play.

 He was there. Always there—dance recitals, doctor’s appointments, play rehearsals. For every baptism, First Communion, and Confirmation. He was with me the first time I discovered the bluebells. He showed us by his presence that we were his first priority.

Someone asked me not long ago what the hardest aspect of middle age is. I quickly answered that for mothers of many, it must be the challenge of meeting the farflung needs of the older ones, while ensuring the little ones have the cozy, careful childhood their siblings did.   Today, I have to change that answer. In the past few weeks, Granddad’s health has declined.   He’s been in and out of the hospital. The strong man who stood behind my huge van and directed traffic every single time I backed out of a playing field parking lot cannot move from one room to another without a walker. He travels with an oxygen tank. His movements are slow and unsteady. But he stills travels.   Last Sunday, a few days out of the hospital, he stepped from our car onto the sidelines where Patrick was playing. Mike helped him to his seat. Oxygen tank beside the blue chair, he watched the game as he always did, 7 or 8 grandchildren on a blanket at his feet. He watched the game. And I watched him, unable to will my eyes away from that beloved face. Today is my 25^th wedding anniversary. As I observe the slow, careful steps of the frail ashen man I have grown to love so dearly, I cannot help but think of the scripture we heard together, all those many years ago.

And Naomi said to Ruth, "Look, your sister-in-law has returned to her people and to her gods; return after your sister-in-law. But Ruth said, "Do not ask me to leave you, or turn back from following you; for wherever you go, I will go; and wherever you lodge, I will lodge; your people shall be my people and your God, my God."

Ruth 1:15-16.

I could not have imagined then, in that church, how tightly knit into my heart would be the father of my husband, how much he is my own. He is almost 89 years old now and though we hardly dare to breathe it, I know that this dance, begun on such a sparkling September day a quarter century ago, is soon to be over. As the music fades, I thank God for the great, good gift of knowing and loving the finest father a girl could ever hope to have. I thank Him for the gift of having danced this altogether beautiful dance.

A Brand New Ending

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I remember telling a friend on my 30th birthday, “I don’t regret a thing. Nothing. I have no regrets.” I was talking particularly about parenting. I can quickly think of lots of other things in life I regretted prior to turning 30, but at that point, I genuinely had no parenting regrets. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.

That seems a lifetime ago.

Now, if someone were to pose that question, they’d better pull up a chair and plan to spend the afternoon. Now, I have a lengthy list of regrets. An “if only” list, if you will. A “How dumb could I have been” list. I do not think I am unique in this. Actually, if you have a child older than 10 and if you don’t have such a list, I invite you to contact me. I’ll pull up a chair and sit down. You can take all afternoon telling me all the things you did right and how you avoided doing something you regret.

I suppose there are those folks who look at things that aren’t such good ideas in hindsight and instead of regretting they are grateful for them. They see the lessons learned. They see the growth. They see the great potential for change. I’d like to think I do that, too. And I do. Sometimes. When it comes to my kids, though, I hate to think that my imprudence has somehow hurt them. So, while grateful for the lessons learned, I wrestle around with regret that they were learned at the expense of my children.

I try not to get stuck there. The beauty of a big family is that if a mother regrets something she did when she was young and imprudent, she might just have a chance at a redo with a younger child. The corollary is that I don’t have the luxury of doing what some of my friends are doing as they settle into an empty nest. I can’t look at the regrets, confess the mistakes, be forgiven and relax in the grace. I have more children to raise. I want to figure it out, get it right this time, perfect the process. I try to relax in the forgiveness and beg the grace for the next leg of this long journey. I long to be still and know God, but sometimes, I just keep striving and I forget that God’s got this (Ps 46:10).

A friend who understands this sense of urgency around regret and fine-tuning parenting for the benefit of the younger siblings sent me some wisdom penned by author Carl Bard. “Although no one can go back and make a brand-new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand-new ending.” He’s right, of course.

A brand-new ending? Now there’s a hopeful prospect. How? How do I write a new ending? By holding the pen and letting God be the author.

We are sinners well practiced in examining our consciences and listing our sins so that we can confess them. But then what? Are we equally well-practiced at receiving showers of grace? Or do we think that somehow in order to get God on our sides we have to be good enough, to be free of stupid mistakes? Do we fill up with self-recrimination and think as if we must merit grace?

We don’t merit grace. Ever. We don’t have to merit grace. God promises that goodness and mercy are ours. Even in the darkest shadows, He assures us, “Indeed, goodness and mercy shall pursue me all the days of my life (Ps 23:6).” He’s pursuing us with the brand-new ending. He’s chasing after us with the story that isn’t filled with regret. This ending is the one where God sees the regretful things and offers mercy. This ending is the one where He sees the dark times and offers goodness. This is the new ending. He is hunting us down with a beautifully bound book of our lives — with the brand-new story to replace the tattered regret-filled one. And this story?

It’s entitled Grace.

needle & thREAD

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I welcome you to needle and thREAD. What have you been sewing lately? 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 and a brief description of what you're up to? Would you talk sewing and books with us? I'd love that so much. Tell me about it in the contents or leave a link to your blog. I'll be happy to come by and visit!

You can get your own needle & thREAD button here in your choice of several happy colors.

 

The morning sewing time is working nicely so far. Firstly, I’m motivated to get up quickly. When I hear the alarm, I remember  why I set it—to have quiet time alone in my sewing room with some fabric and some prayer. It’s a great incentive to hop to it and maximize the time. I usually get at least an hour. It’s a little tricky to discipline myself to stop, but for some reason, if I’ve gotten that hour in, it’s easy to go back and pick it up sometime during the day, even if just for a few moments. So, all in all, a fairly good report on the experiment. We’re two days in;-)

 

Sarah’s top is finished. My model is sleeping as I type, so no pictures of the finished product. I’ll add those later today, perhaps. I made Karoline’s Class Picnic Blouse in a Size 8 this season. I made her a 6 last year. So, since I made Karoline’s two sizes larger I made Sarah’s two sizes larger as well. But Sarah’s is going to be pretty huge on her I think. Oh,well. My plan all along was to layer a turtleneck under it during the colder months anyway. It will be fine.

 

Now, on to cutting for Katie. I’d love to think I get both the Lisette tunic (for the sewalong) and the Oliver + S Book Report dress finished by needle & thREAD next week but I’m going to be away at a soccer tournament for three of those days. So, we shall see. I don’t really think the morning sewing time is all that efficient.

 

In reading news, my quilting fabric stash welcomed a new friend this week. My friend Marcia lived down the street from me during high school. She moved to Kentucky moved the day after graduation. We re-connected on Instagram and I’ve very much enjoyed keeping up with her family there. Marcia noticed that we had some overlapping circles. First, there was Grace. And then there was Erin from House on Hill Road. I don’t know either Grace or Erin personally, but Grace feels connected through Ginny, who is very much close personal friend. And it turns out that Erin is Marcia’s real life buddy.

 

So it is that Marcia greeted me at my high school reunion with my very own copy of Erin’s new quilting book. And since big parties are not really my favorite scene and quilting books most definitely are, I think Mike was a afraid for a moment that I would curl up in the corner and just read the night away. I am proud to admit I exercised all kinds of self-control and promptly took it up to my hotel room and left it there so that I wouldn’t be tempted.

 

The very next day, I huddled my feverish self under a million blankets and contentedly eschewed all the rest of life to read this book.

 

It’s an absolutely beautiful book. It begs you to linger long over gorgeous photos of lovely quilts and fabrics. Then, when you are properly motivated and want very much to create a piece of beautiful fabric happiness of your own, there is this well-written, everything-you-need-to-know text.  When I first got the book, I flipped around looking for the quilt patterns. Don’t all quilting books have quilt patterns? Not this one.

 

 QuiltEssential takes the focus off the product and endeavors to teach the process so well that a beginner can confidently design and sew any size quilt. It’s all here—from color theory and fabric choices to how to piece blocks and how to properly bind.

 

For further inspiration, Erin visits eight talented modern quilters who share their joy for the art. She talks to folks like Anna Maria Horner and Rita Hodge and gives us a real feel for the richness and diversity and pure joy of the art.

 

A couple of years ago, Carmen gave me a whole bunch of mixed pieces of Very Hungry Caterpillar fabric. There is certainly enough fabric here for a quilt top, but I asked myself which quilt top?  I really couldn’t consider designing the quilt around the fabric I have at hand. Actually, so far, I have always purchased fabric a quilt pattern someone else has written and even then, usually purchased far more than I need because I’m so afraid of messing up and not being able to follow the plan precisely. This book is worth its weight in gold if it can teach me to go confidently in the direction of my own designs. Really, though, even if I never design a pattern of my own, this book is invaluable because it equips me to follow anybody else’s pattern. Nothing in the quilting process will be a mystery any more. It’s all here.

 

Did I mention that the book is beautiful? Oh. So. Very. Beautiful. Truly, everything you need to know about quilting in one incredibly beautiful volume!

Karoline's Day(s)

I think birthdays are a big deal. It's nice to set aside a time to give thanks for and celebrate a life and if we can do that well once a year, then a child has a nice patchwork of lovely memories with which to wrap herself when she leaves home. It gets a little tricky, though, when a family has four children born within the space of a single week. The child at the end of Birthday Week suffers a bit from a fatigued mama and a sugar meltdown. This year was particularly challenging because we threw in a road trip for UVa soccer and a date night for our high school reunion.

Karoline turned seven on Friday. We did some creative tweaking of traditions to be sure that she had exactly the day she wanted--even if it took several days to make it happen.

The day began with breakfast in bed and many sleepy siblings singing Happy Birthday. She insisted on wearing her new birthday shirt (even though the shirt is flannel and it was ninety degrees). Before noon, Karoline and Mary Beth made cupcakes. And we ate them before noon, too, because we needed to hit the road. For every birthday, our family's tradition is to pray over the birthday girl and to give thanks for something specific we love about her. We sang happy Birthday, said our "what I love" prayers and watched Karoline blow out candles before our pre-lunch cupcake feast. Then, we piled everyone in the car to to head into the Blue Ridge. Since it was her birthday, Karoline got to pick drive-thru the meal.(Chick-fil-a. Please Cchik-fil-a. Please, please, please Chick-fil-a.) She chose Taco Bell. Awesome. Taco Bell in the car--my favorite. We drove first to Harrisonburg to pick up Christian. Christian is Karoline's godfather so she was delighted he'd be with her that day; her delight doubled when she found that he came bearing gifts.

From Harrisonburg we went to Charlottesville, to the home where my father and stepmother live. There, we ate dinner, gathered more presents, and sang Happy Birthday again, over Texas sheet cake this time. That was the third birthday serenade of the day, but who's counting? Back in the car to Paddy's game. She managed to tell several dozen more people it was her birthday and to stay awake all the way home, thereby not missing a single second of the birthday night and falling asleep well after midnight.

On Saturday, after Stephen's soccer and before we left for the reunion, Mike suggested Red Robin for lunch. Why not? They sing a different rendition of "Happy Birthday." She'll take it. 

When Katie had her whole-day-with-mama shopping day for her birthday, Karoline said she wanted that, too. I promised we'd do it the Monday following her birthday since we'd be traveling on her birthday. Monday came and there were tornado watches and warnings, so she opted to wait another day. However, she remembered she'd never gotten to pick a birthday dinner, so we did manage to have chili in her honor that night.

Tuesday came, and with it an opportunity to spend birthday money. After a quick hot chocolate treat, we stopped first at Target and were both disappointed by the proliferation of cheesy bling on little girls' clothes. So, we headed to the mall. Ordinarily, I'm a twice-a-year mall shopper and then only when I have a specific purpose. This was to be the second time in a week!

Lo and behold, there was a Birthday Miracle. Everything at Gymboree was $16.99 or less. That means if a pair of boots had a $52 price tag, they were $16.99. Same with winter coats. Dressy dresses? All under $17. I felt like I'd been dropped in a dream. I have felt that often in the past seven years. It's the Karoline's Charmed Star dream.

After a very succesful shopping spree (where we spent Sarah's birthday moeny for her, too), we went to Whole Foods for lunch and groceries. She twirled in the parking lot. She twirled in the aisles. She twirled between the vegan curry and the sushi. And she said--loudly enough for lots of lunch hour business people to hear--"This is the Best Day Ever!" They don't know that Karoline has a "Best Day Ever" about twice a month. She had the whole place smiling.

Despite my best intentions, there aren't many pictures to document her extended birthday celebration. I seemed to forget the camera at every turn. I'm told the ones I have are blurry (eye doctor again today, folks--a little St. Lucy prayer?). We took lots of snapshots in our minds though and the memories will be lovely patches in her birthday quilt.

Gathering My Thoughts

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I find myself:

::noticing God's glory

Nick and I were later than we’d hoped to be to goalkeeper training Monday night. We made a decision to pull over and capture the sunset. He’s been so desperately wanting to do this that I took iPhone pics and put the big camera around his neck. We’re both very pleased.

I’ve been consciously focusing on home these days, trying to hear God’s call here and to appreciate the beauty in both this time and this place. All the pictures this week were taken at places very much a part of my daily round

::listening to 

ringing in my head. Mike and I went to our high school reunion Saturday night. We got back to the hotel around 1:00. When I found myself shivering and nauseous around 2:00, I thought maybe that’s what happens when I go over my one-glass-of-wine limit (I had two glasses in the space of seven hours, but you never know). I don’t know why I didn’t remember at the time that my girls have recently had what Karoline called “the dizzy fever.” Dizzy fever indeed. Thanks for sharing with Mama. I’m still shivering and sweating and my head’s ringing.

::clothing myself in 

Yoga pants, sweatshirt, and hand knit cashmere socks sent to me by Elizabeth DeHority. The rain and the wind brought cooler temperatures to the evening. Nothing like welcoming autumn weather with a touch of cashmere.

 

::thinking and thinking

About this:

Unfortunately, experiences of moral failure, group meltdowns, personal pettiness, and partison harshness in congregations and ommunities make us wonder if our efforts in building community are worth the trouble. We often invest great hope in our Christian communities, and when there are serious ruptures, it feels as if part of the kingdom has been trampled. How is it that people who want closer relationships and deeper experiences of shared life sometimes find themselves in terribly difficult situations--sorting out betrayals, broken commitments, and creeping cynicism?

Growing into the likeness of Christ and into the church as it's supposed to be cannot be separated from the messiness and disappointments that are part of human relationships. We can protect ourselves from such difficulties only by cutting ourselves off from our relationships, and that is rarely a satisfactory option. Nevertheless, we can build and maintain congregations--just like we do with marriages, families, monastic communities, and businesses--in better or worse ways. Good communities and lifegiving congregations emerge at the intersection of divine grace and steady human effort.

~from Living into Community.

I have a lot of regrets about community in the last decade. Most about an online community where I invested far too much time and assumed far too much about friendship. Sadly, there has been a fair share of trial and scandal in our local church community, too. In both cases, the scars, particularly where some of my kids are concerned are deep and still painful to the touch. And yet. And yet, try as I might to deny it, I know He created us for community.

Just where? And how?

::pondering prayerfully

“How is it God, that you have given me this hectic busy life when I have so little time to enjoy your presence? Throughout the day, people are waiting to speak with me, and even at meals, I have to continue talking to people about their needs and problems. During sleep itself I am still thinking and dreaming about the multitude of concerns that surround me. I do all this not for my own sake, but for yours. I only hope that for you it is truly a sacrifice of love. I know that you are constantly beside me, yet I am usually so  busy that I ignore you. If you want me to remain so busy, please force me to think about and love you even in the midst of such hectic activity. If you do not want me so busy, please release me from it, showing other how they can take over my responsibilities.” St. Teresa of Avila

::carefully cultivating rhythm

At the beginning of a season, rhythm takes careful thought and quite a bit of discipline. Then, it sort of dissolves into a natural, easy flow. We have finally reached the flowing stage. Alleluia! Amen.

::creating by hand

I bound off on the body of a baby sweater last night. On to the sleeves! And I cut a top for Sarah today. I hope to feel well enough tomorrow to sew early in the morning.

 

::learning lessons in

Food again. I slacked off on the “no gluten-no dairy-no sugar” resolve. It’s always really hard during birthday week. I’m seven pounds heavier and my joints are stiff and painful. So, if I needed to learn whether food makes a difference, I just did.

::encouraging learning 

in geography. My four-year-old can look at the shape of a state and the outline of the country (with no states outlined) and put her finger on the spot where that state belongs. She can do it for all 50 states consecutively without missing one. I did nothing. Stack the States app is all kinds of amazing.

::begging prayers

for all the intentions of our prayer community.

::keeping house

I think dipping leaves in beeswax and bringing autumn to the mantel are in order this week.

::crafting in the kitchen 

Is anybody else putting pumpkin in everything? I can’t seem to help myself...

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::loving the moments

when we gather with friends and family on the sidelines of a soccer match. On Friday night, we had dinner with my father and stepmother. We went to watch Patrick play. There, we met my friend Sharon and her husband. Sharon went to high school with us and she was a dear friend in my early mothering days. Sitting next to her, sharing mom hearts, it was just like old times. Even better.


::giving thanks 

for our high school reunion, old friends, and warm conversations.

living the liturgy

I’ve moved my morning Liturgy of the Hours time from the closet with my bike to the sewing room. I know I do this at the risk of not being able to squeeze the exercise in at midday, where I now have it penciled. But right now, I need to make a commitment to sewing time and sewing has naturally become a kind of prayer. So let’s see how it works there.

::planning for the week ahead

Colleen arrives tomorrow. After a whirlwind trip all over the country meeting interesting and influential people, she’s going to spend a few days resting and recovering here. I have no one influential lined up for her and nothing especially interesting. Our days will be filled with autumn walks, homemade soup, crusty bread, and the Jane Austen movie marathon Karoline has planned.

The weekend will take the boys and me to Princeton, NJ for a soccer tournament.

 

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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 week, 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

Luke 17:5-10

The apostles said to the Lord, "Increase our faith." 
The Lord replied,
"If you have faith the size of a mustard seed,
you would say to this mulberry tree,
'Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.

"Who among you would say to your servant
who has just come in from plowing or tending sheep in the field,
'Come here immediately and take your place at table'? 
Would he not rather say to him,
'Prepare something for me to eat.
Put on your apron and wait on me while I eat and drink.
You may eat and drink when I am finished'? 
Is he grateful to that servant because he did what was commanded? 
So should it be with you.
When you have done all you have been commanded,
say, 'We are unprofitable servants;
we have done what we were obliged to do.'"

Think

"The prayer of the sick person is his patience and his acceptance of his sickness for the love of Jesus Christ. Make sickness itself a prayer, for there is none more powerful, save martyrdom! ~St. Francis de Sales

Pray

Lord, even when my body is healthy, my soul is weak and flowed. Help me to accept my limitations, both physical and spiritual. Remind me that, when I offer them to you, my frustrations can become a source of grace and the beginning of good health.

Act

Make a small change to day to take better care of yourself. Without worrying about "seeing result," eat your vegetables., drink water, and make time for exercise. Focus on these small steps

(from the October 6 entry in Small Steps for Catholic Moms)