Salon Effects Review

Bought the New Sally Hansen Salon effects, they have really cool patterns for a quick manicure. But I found it to be a little pricey for $8 (call me cheap but that's a little too much.) It was a bit difficult to find the right size for my nails. It felt like i was putting on stickers and it only lasted about one day. Then it kept peeling and falling off. They take the fun out of a manicure I prefer doing it the old fashion way.

Experimenting

Holiday Designs

Designs inspired by the wonderful Holidays

 

 

Holiday water-marble OPI contest 

Christmas 2010 OPI contest

Shades of Blue

I call it my rainy days inspiration.

A hint of Lime

I love using bright colors and flowers that is why Opi's 'Pooltime Lime' made a perfect base color.

Catch that Cab!

'The Cash Cab' inspired Nails

You get the best of both Worlds

My little sister Brigitte was non other than Hanna Montana for last years Halloween. She had the whole wig and dress going for her so I did her nails exactly like her dress.

Fruit Salad Yumi Yumi!

'Insalata di Frutta' was done with different shimmering polishes and these adorable decorative fruits.

Midnight Roses

Midnight Roses was the first design in which i did Roses.

My Life Saver

I'm not a Justin Bieber fan one bit! But when i heard OPI was coming up with 'The Lonely Girl' Collection I was ecstatic the colors are wonderful specially 'My LifeSaver' which is the only color i own so far.

Since the color is so beautiful on it's own, I didn't want to do much to it.

Tonight's the Night

'Tonight's the night. And it's going to happen again, and again.' -Dexter

My Bow

'My bow' is another of my special designs I did it right after I found out I had Thyroid Cancer it was dedicated to my missing thyroid which I  named my bow.

Flower Power

This was one of the first designs that I did.

The boy who lived!

Being a Harry Potter fan it only felt right to do my nail design on Harry. I painted Hedwig, Harry, the Gryffindor colors and the Nimbus 2000 For the midnight showing of 'Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

My 24th birthday Nail Design

This Nail Design is one of my special designs, I dedicate this design to myself on my 24th birthday, I painted birthday elements and even did a self portrait. I used OPI's 'Italian Love Affair'

Oriental Sensation

My Korean fan was the inspiration for this design I used Opi's 'Amazing Lazing Lilac' and 'The Grape Debate'

Leopard Print

Did a leopard print with a rose got my inspiration from the cool Betsy Johnson designs. 

Psychedelic Vibe

Mucha Lucha Hello Kitty inspired nails, Used about five colors to create different patterns.

Blast of Kolor

 Firs nail design is a mixture of colors using the gradient effect and a shimmery polish as a top coat with hand-painted red flowers outlined in black. I love how the whole picture came out specially my Indian hand crafted Camel.

o

Enter Spring/Fr. Larry Richards

If dryness in prayer, lack of fervor and failure to feel the presence of God in our difficulties is a winter of the spirit, then it was this past Saturday, in the deep of the actual season of winter, that my soul entered spring. I was consumed by joy, excitement and gratitude for the blessings that surrounded me that day.

It was at the annual Women of Christ Conference, a full day packed with speakers, exhibits and prayer that my season changed. There was so much filling my senses and my spirit that I may need this entire week just to share all that I experienced in that single day.

It was shortly after my friend Susi and I arrived and began to set up our shared exhibitors table where she was promoting the Vocations Office (who better than a mother to introduce her son to the thought of priesthood!), and I was promoting the Monthly Prayer Request for Priests which I began with the help of the Vocations Office last September for the Milwaukee Archdiocese, when I spotted Fr. Larry Richards.

It was a little over a year ago when I had written about Fr. Larry for Matt Warner's "Support a Catholic Speaker" month. I had chosen to write about Fr. Larry because although I had heard his name, there was not much else that I knew about him. After I had written my story, I knew that if I ever had the chance to hear Fr. Larry speak, I would be first in line to buy a ticket, and now that desire came true!

Before I left the house in the morning, my husband was watching You-Tube with the headphones on so I didn't know what he was listening to, but I kept hearing him laugh, so I peeked over his shoulder to see what was so funny. It was Fr. Larry Richards Confession talk!

Before long, Fr. Larry was standing next to me in the exhibit hall and was admiring the Seminary's fabulous video of this past year's ordinations. He was telling me that he didn't know much about Milwaukee's Archbishop Listecki, but that he knows our former Archbishop Dolan. I was so pleased to tell him how wonderful Archbishop Listecki is and about how much we are all enjoying his presence in Milwaukee. He has truly emphasized love during his first year here, and this cold, northern locale is much warmer because of him!
Later that morning I was thanking God that I had gone to confession before Fr. Larry's talk, because by the time he was through speaking, and shared his classic examination of conscience, the line for confession seemed as if it was nearly two blocks long!

Memorable lines from his talk~

his opening line: "I am blessed among women!" (There were nearly 2500 women in attendance at the conference!)

on praying the rosary: "When you pray the rosary, Mary takes you by the hand and says, "Come here, I want you to watch the life of my son with me. For example, when you are praying the third joyful mystery, Mary looks at you and says, "Here, would you like to hold him?" and you rock the son of the Universe. And when you receive Communion, you take the Son of God that you held in your arms and now you have Him inside of you, just like Mary did for nine months."

on reading scripture: "When you read scripture and you feel that God is speaking to you, write it down. Carry it with you all day in your pocket or your purse and take it out from time to time and look at it and pray about it. In this way, you will have a continual conversation with God all day long."

and: "Don't tell me that you don't have time to read scripture! If you have time to read your newspaper, a novel, your blogs, you have time for scripture!"

on scrupulosity and selfishness: "Christianity is the forgetfulness of self. If you follow Jesus because you want to get to heaven, its all about you. You are following him for a selfish reason."

on eternal life: "When you were inside of your mother for nine months, all of your needs were met; you were with her night and day, and even though it was messy in there, you liked it. In fact, you didn't want to come out! You screamed when you entered the world. But you couldn't see your mother until you were born. Right now, we are in the womb of God. Everything we have comes from Him. Things can be pretty messy, but we usually like it here and worry about dying. But we can't see Him while we are here. So who's more blessed? The one who dies at four or the one who dies at ninety?"

on daily Mass: "If you really believe that Jesus is present, Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity, in the Eucharist and you don't go to daily Mass, then you are a liar! When we pray the Lord's Prayer we say give us this day our daily bread, not give us this day our weekly bread!"

His talk, both entertaining and uplifting, proved him to be a priest who won't back down from what he believes in and one who speaks his mind without adding any sugar-coating to his words. If I ever get the chance to hear Fr. Larry Richards speak again, you can be sure that I will be first in line to buy a ticket!

And on this day when the weather forecasters are predicting nearly two feet of snow in the next few days, my soul is warmed by remembering all that occurred at the Women of Christ Conference. During the upcoming days, I hope to write a bit about Immaculee Ilibagiza, Archbishop Listecki, the Monthly Prayer Request for Priests, and about some of the wonderful women I had the opportunity to meet on that very special day set aside for the Women of Christ; the day that felt like spring.

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"Not saying thank you keeps us from going deeper into our faith and into healing." Fr. Matthew Widder

continuing to count the blessings...

~delicious morning sunshine after too many cloudy days

~blasting the Newsboys in the car on the drive to work

~water-cool and refreshing down my throat

~taking a breather from work with a lunchtime walk

~warm, fuzzy slippers on winter-cold feet

~Wildflour Bread from Sister Doris

~Dad helping youngest with homework

~jars of seaglass on front porch; reminders of lazy walks on the beach in warmer weather

~a busy week at work

~14-year-old son reading a bedtime story to his nine-year-old sister

~steam that rises from a newly opened bottle of champagne

~bubbles!

A Nail Polish Story

Hello and welcome to my official nail blog. I will be posting my latest nail designs which i intend to do at least once a week. My nail themes and inspirations are random, occasionally I will try to do themes according to special occasions or holidays.  I will also post just about anything that has to do with nail polish.

I'm completely self taught i love experimenting with colors, patterns and designs. Any brand of nail polish works with me but my favorite's are Opi.

My passion for nail polish started when i was in elementary I remember begging my mom for those books that use to come with 6 kids polishes (the non-toxic peel one's)  and had step by step on doing a lady bug, flower etc...... 

But i never got the damn book but she started buying me real polish and I would just paint my nails with wacky colors and would dread painting my right hand lol.

I continued my passion all through middle school and high school when i reached college it was once in a while. But since i have been recovering from my Thyroid Cancer surgery i have begun to do it as a way to escape my stress and depression. My nail art has become my main hobby and i plan to further it by going to school to get my nail technician license. 

Anyways I hope you enjoy all the designs i plan to do.

I want to thank everyone who has ever given me a nail polish as a gift and my sister Andrea for coming up with the creative tittle for the blog. 

The Story of Mr. Blart

In honor of Catholic Schools Week, please enjoy a re-post of my son Joe's story, Mr. Blart, which he had written last year as his Academic Fair project in his final year of school at St. Matthias. He created this story in what's known as a "big book" format. The entire story was written on poster board. For the artwork, he used computer generated pictures of Mr. Blart in various scenes and for the face of Mr. Blart, he used Kevin (Brian Baumgartner), a character from the TV show "The Office." His teacher was convinced that Joe couldn't possibly have written this story on his own, it was that good! So, she googled it to see if he might have copied it, and she found it....on this blog! At this year's Academic Fair, people who visited the "big book" room were still talking about Mr. Blart!

The Story of Mr. Blart
By: Joe Bender
















Mr. Blart was not very smart.
Instead of a car he drove a grocery store cart.
“Today,” Mr. Blart did start.
“Today I will buy a car at Wal-Mart!”
When he got there he met Mrs. Dart,
a lady who worked right there at Wal-Mart.
What she said tore Blart right apart.
“We don’t sell real cars, cross my heart.”

That left poor Blart feeling real glum,
“A car at Wal-Mart, boy am I dumb!”
To cheer himself up he took out some gum.
It was his favorite and it made him say “YUM!”
But that still left him sad and his heart still numb.
Then poor Mr. Blart he started to hum
and on a guitar he started to strum.
Though nothing he did could make him not glum,
because after forty-three years he still lived with his mum.

“That’s it!” shouted Mr. Blart with might.
“I’ll change my life and I’ll put up a fight!”
Then Mr. Blart felt he reached a new height.
He felt like he was flying just like a kite.
He always wanted to feel so light.
He had never felt so cool so tight!
As he skipped home into the night
a smile came across his face full of delight!

He spread many books across the table.
He’d study all night if he were able.
One book had a very interesting label.
The title for it was Anne of Green Gable.
He read the book ‘til he didn’t feel stable.
Then he clicked the remote and fell asleep watching cable.

He had a dream about when he was a lad.
He got into trouble and acted real bad.
When the teacher yelled at him he got so mad
that he quit school and the whole life he had.
Waking up he felt very sad,
but only just a tad.
He wished that he still had his dad,
Though he knew he got shot by a Russian named, Vlad.
“I’ll do it!” Blart said “I’ll do it for dad!
I’ll do it for the dad I never had!”

And for him Mr. Blart went out on a limb.
He went to his old teacher, Mrs. Kim.
Mrs. Kim knew his chances were dim
but out of pity decided to help him.
Her husband, Tim,
bought some books on a whim.
With help from Mrs. Kim and Tim
he felt much smarter and they were so proud of him.

Then after that Mr. Blart was just fine.
He had an IQ of 2009.
He was so smart he could create things with some sticks and some twine.
He made a house, a garage, and a car with an engine 409.
He had lots of women all waiting in line
for Blart to say to one “You are mine!”

And so Mr. Blart turned his life upside-down.
He now wears a smile instead of a frown.
So the morale is if life’s got you down
and you’re always the loser in town,
work hard and you too, can turn your life around.

The End.

I Am An Asshole

It's a little after 8:30 in the morning, and my cell phone buzzes to existence. The woman I've tried to make nice with has just sent me a text that her car is fixed finally (after an overstayed delay with "the mechanic"). I know I'm not the first guy on the list, but I'm not the last. I find those odds amicable.

"The car is finally fixed... We shall see how long it lasts. John found some other things wrong with it," the text reads.

Only one response pops to mind. "I'll bet."

I fire it away without thinking. If I could think, I would. My brain is a throbbing reminder of all the gin that went into my system last night and of all the bad things I may or may not have done that would rip this little "suburban community" apart. After all, why not? Who really cares? At the end of the day, we're all programmed machines operating on a level of bullshit so subconscious we don't even notice the synchronicity between our lives and 'Days of Our Lives'.

Many people seem to argue that if writers were to take their lives and produce a show, that the show in question would be interesting and have the climatic timing of what's expected in any legitimate drama. These people are right. The show would be awesome. It would have all the right nuances, timing, and flow of any "serious work".

A show off any number of friends' lives would be awesome. Like me, they have watched enough television and enough movies to grasp the concept of plot. Like me, subconsciously they've constructed themselves and their lives through this format, and that is why the impeccable dramatic timing exists. They will it. I will it. We all will it like a soap opera champ in our daily lives.

I suppose if there was a difference between most of my friends and I, it's that I'm aware. I watch it coming, and I let it happen. Once the programming is actualized, the meaning is lost anyway. The tension dissipates. The subtleties of "being human" (or lack thereof) subside as the whole perverted awareness of what is really going on becomes the running gag. The punchline.

It is now fifteen minutes after 9 in the morning. Sitting up has made my head shriek as I type this. I enjoy the pain. I imagine it's my subconscious shrieking at my realization that my life is one big catalogued joke constructed after watching too many movies. It's not as depressing as some people may imagine. In fact, it's very liberating. It means I'm disjoint from a reality in a sense, able to weave in and out of the realities of others like a snaking cobra intent on poisoning the rest of the masses.

I call myself Dr. Nonsensical and reject the cliche birth name my parents yanked out of a name database. The one I have chosen has meaning, and it may be one of the few shreds of meaning I actually adhere to. One of the others is a dawning realization of a physical connection that exists with a magnificent deity of a woman who shares a similar journey and mindset with me. A last vestige of meaning is that human "society" is perpetual nonsense in motion - a circle jerk bukkake festival of animals re-enacting an "adult video" they found somewhere.

I'm not a religious person (go figure), but I do enjoy the phrase, "God is dead". We killed it, and we built the backs of our utopia on the spiritual.

Do you know that kid who sits in front of the TV all day watching cartoons? That's us. You can take the TV away from him, but you can't take the cartoons away. He's been sitting there so long they're etched across his brain - meaning composed by man without the magic, mystery, or allure of "spirituality" in a sense. Please note that I'm not advocating any one religion or ideology. Those are all in my big bucket of nonsense too as most of these supposed "True Paths" stem from some of the most violently and sexually graphic texts I have ever read. Yes, I am referring to the Holy Bible, among other works. Read it if you haven't. There's incest, rape, sex, masturbation, mutilation, beheadings, mass genocides, murders, plagues, more sex, more rape, more masturbation, a talking snake, drinking, nakedness, and more.

I guess when I say spiritual then I am talking about all the mysteries abound that remain unsolved and ignored because of the complicated nature to them. They haven't gone away, just like Merlin didn't truly go away when King Arthur was able to assert himself and stand on two legs. These mysteries may very well be the key to the secret of the Holy Grail, the rejuvenating ether that reminds us what it is to know what a full heart is again.

But these are just ramblings from an asshole with a hangover. The ungrateful middle class prick isn't even going to edit this. Instead, he's just going to go back to bed because his phone stopped buzzing with "updates" about the "broken car". It's better that he sleeps anyway. He may have said and/or done some things to perpetuate a cliche drama in a suburban modicum of reality of unconscious actions.

Winter of the Spirit

"We planted the seed while the tears of our grief soaked the ground
The sky lost its sun, and the world lost its green to lifeless brown
Now the chilling wind has turned the earth hard as stone
And silently seeds rise beneath ice and snow

And my heart's heavy now
But I'm not letting go of this hope I have that tells me

Spring is coming, Spring is coming
And all we've been hoping and longing for soon will appear
Spring is coming, Spring is coming
It won't be long now, it's just about here"
~Steven Curtis Chapman















God called me to the deep and I answered, but not with a joyful and trusting heart. Instead I gave Him my pent-up, defensive, worrisome heart. I'd been walking in the waters of fear this month, forgetting to keep my eyes on the Lord and feeling the icy water rise up beyond my ankles, losing the trust that's required to keep me afloat when the waters churn dark and fearsome.

Struggles with my rebellious son leading to a sorrowing heart caused me to wonder if that was how God felt when Adam and Eve ate the apple. When they turned their backs on His love and care acting as if they didn't need Him, did He feel that wave after wave of grief washing over Him? Who did He turn to then, to bring Him comfort? Yet, my loving God wouldn't let me live with that pain of motherhood for long before he turned my son around and wrapped us both in His love and peace. We have now had a week of familial bliss without a single argument!

And troubles with my boss at work-us passing each other by in the narrow hallway, barely saying hello, hardly looking at each other, her misunderstanding me and me surely misunderstanding her, but both of us too shy, too fearful, to ask the hard questions that could bring the relief of understanding. Until the recent day when we finally opened up just a little, just enough for God to open our hearts in kindness and we shared some of our misgivings allowing us to work together in peace once again. And now, we have had two days where our silent scowls have been replaced by smiles and friendly hellos!

Then my sister reaching out for forgiveness from a long-ago hurt she placed on my shoulders, and me wanting to withhold the freedom of loving forgiveness, having grown so accustomed to living in resentment. But, after reading and praying about her message, sent on her birthday, I felt a softening, a mellowing that loosened its grip on the rigid and narrow rock of ice in my heart and allowed it to melt into warm and peace-filled waters, that brought me to want to choose gentle love over stiff resentment. God brought me to respond with love and I pray that we are on the verge of a true and peaceful forgiveness!

Now, it was with one of my most recent fears that God really worked my heart to truly bring me peace. Such a little worry, but he kept putting it in the front of my mind, placing it deep into my heart where it burned until I could work it out. My dearest friend asked me to help work with a long-standing faith group, and I agreed because I was eager to help him, but in what is an all-too common anxious habit of mine, I quickly felt myself back-treading. I listened to Satan's whispered lies, telling me that I couldn't do it, that it would never work and I was contemplating leaving the work to someone else. But God wasn't going to let me escape from responsibility that easily. He kept working me, drawing my worries out in written words, giving me time to look at them and pray about them, really letting them soak into my soul, helping me to understand my worries from a different view, until I could see that it truly is His will that I take this role upon my shoulders. It's for His glory after all, and how could I ever say no to God's glory?

And through all these struggles, disappointments and worries-these winters of my spirit-God carried me, led me, and warmed me until at last, the brilliant sun streamed down and broke through the common clouds of frigid winter. It feels like spring! So, naturally, I had to stop and pick up flowers to bring the season to life and remind me that winter doesn't last forever, and spring is just around every corner.

This reflection from Caryll Houselander seems to describe the winter of the spirit so well-the dryness in prayer, the lack of faith and trust, the struggles to live life with joy. What a lovely reminder this is of the hope we have in Christ if only we will remember that He is always there in the trials and tribulations, the little sufferings that come our way, in our own weakness and sinfulness, and spring will come again.

"Now most of us tend to want to feel the presence of the indwelling Christ all the time: we want to experience continual sweetness in devotion, our prayers are to be always breaking into flower within us, we are distressed because we know long periods when prayer brings us no sweetness at all, and we forget in our distress that if we go on praying without any 'consolation,' we are giving God something due him.

We are impatient because we do not immediately feel the healing of our wounds, or do not at once after confession recover from the effects of our sins; we are still tempted, and if we have formed a bad habit, it will take time to unform it.

The beginning of the rest which will allow the Holy Ghost to flood our souls consists in accepting God's plan, and in that plan there is winter as well as spring, spring as well as summer with its flowering, and autumn with its harvest. This means that we must deliberately refuse to be anxious. There are times when we shall not feel the indwelling of Christ, when we shall not feel that we have faith in it even, and these times, blessed winters of the spirit, are the times when Christ is growing in our souls."

~Caryll Houselander, Risen Christ

Seven Quick Takes

It's been a while since I've participated in Jennifer Fulwiler's Quick Takes MEME, but it's been such an interesting week filled with joyful news and words that made me smile, I thought that a little compilation of the best of it would be in order...

1. My most recent post about our family dinner conversation brought several emails about the importance of discussing sex with children. A sweet email from my dear friend Marge, whom I hadn't heard from in a while and was missing terribly, made me laugh out loud, so I've got to share some of her words here.

"I just had to shoot an email off to you after reading your blog post this morning about ‘mentioning sex’ to your kids!!! How funny!!! But I have to ask you…..didn’t you know that???? Good grief, woman, you violated a major rule with that one!! Heeheehaaaaa (I’m laughing kindly by the way)... never, never, never talk or teach about sex using yourself as any kind of example or reference. Using people in general works ok. Talking about chastity and all that in, kind of, the ‘third person’ works ok. But you? And your husband? You don’t have sex. Get it? You would never consider it; have never thought about it; your children were delivered through God’s love on your doorstep (or whatever weird way they want to imagine it)…they ‘know’…they just don’t want to talk or think about it."

2. The Milwaukee chapter of the Monthly Prayer Request for Priests(MPRP) has been up and running for the past six months! It has been met with many positive comments, and I recently was told that the Milwaukee Catholic Herald has been running a weekly edition of the calendar. I am so pleased to have been able to bring this apostolate to my Archdiocese and know that it does much good! I am especially grateful to freelance writer Karen Mahoney, who has written a little piece about the MPRP on her blog.

3. This Saturday is the Women of Christ Conference in our area. I am so excited to be able to attend with my friend, Susi. We will be working a booth promoting the Archdiocese Vocations Office as well as the MPRP. The speakers should be outstanding! I am especially looking forward to hearing Fr. Larry Richards, about whom I was honored to write a little something here for Catholic Speakers Month, and Immaculee Ilibagiza!

4. There's been lots of chatter on the blogospere about the March for Life in Washington, DC this week. But one little-known nugget that especially pleased me was hearing that several of our own local boys from the seminary were in attendance at the Mass and the march. What a blessed experience that must have been for them!

5. We've officially begun the process of looking into colleges with our oldest son. COLLEGE!!!! I can't believe it! How quickly fly the years! Wasn't it only yesterday that he was just learning to ride a two-wheeled bicycle?

6. There is a wonderful group here in Milwaukee that has been in existence for the past thirty years known as Roses for Our Lady. For the past two years, I have enjoyed attending the monthly Holy Hours that they sponsor at our seminary to pray for vocations. Earlier this month I took a leap and officially joined the group to help them continue the good work that they do for the Lord. It's been a blast working on the development of a website to promote the organization and hopefully draw many more people to join! I'm always thrilled when I can learn something new, something that I would never have imagined that I would be capable of doing and I am eager to share the website as soon as I receive the a-ok! But, I know that I still have much to learn and so much growing to do and with growth comes the inevitable presence of pain. Please keep me and all of the Roses for Our Lady members in your prayers as we adjust to one another and our varied ways of doing things.

7. A few months ago, I bemoaned the folks who were complaining about the upcoming Missal changes in public venues such as the local newspaper and thereby contributing to dissent in the Church, sadly, even some leaders from my own parish. Today I rejoice because my parish will be holding mandatory trainings for all lectors and extraordinary ministers of Holy Eucharist to begin to teach these volunteers about the new wording so that we will all be ready to adjust when the time comes for the changeover to begin.

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And this morning I have to add a little update, sneaking in a rule-cheating number 8. It feels really good to learn that once again my little writings here have made Eric Sammons' list of the top two hundred Catholic blogs! This time I came in at number 187-up from 194 just last June. Thanks so much to all of you who subscribe and I pray that each time you leave this blog, your heart may be lifted a little higher towards the Lord!

Life is busy, but very, very good; for every inch of it is a blessing from God. How often I forget that when I get bogged down in the details, but when I slow down, take a good, hard look at the big picture, all I can see is His love! How blessed I am! I pray that you, dear reader, feel blessed as well!

Dinner Lessons

"So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them." Genesis 1:27










The first semester of school has finally worked its way into history and now begins the second half of the year. At dinner, Justin mentioned that he will begin his health class, the class consisting of the three students whose parents signed them up for the "abstinence only" section of sexual education. A lively discussion ensued about the reasons why Paul and I insist he not learn about artificial birth control, self-gratification, and same-sex marriage as part of his high school curriculum. I was feeling pretty high and mighty and righteous at the beginning of the discussion, but by the end of dinner, I found that I was the one who was apologizing to my children!

"Only the chaste man and the chaste woman are capable of true love." Pope John Paul II

I tried to explain that sexual intercourse is a beautiful thing, a blessing from God, the way He brings life into the world, as long as it is within marriage. I shared the fact that our bodies are beautiful, made in the image of God, and that sharing our bodies with our spouse is the fulfillment of marriage. The volume quickly rose as the children cried out, "Eww, that's disgusting Mom! How can you even say the word sex in front of your children!" "Well," I countered, "if it weren't for sex, you wouldn't be here!"

That was enough for youngest son who quickly covered his ears. It was more than enough for dramatic Mary, who left the table in disgust and escaped upstairs to her bedroom. It wasn't long before she was back, with her coat on and a suitcase in hand.

"I cannot stay in a house where my mother uses the word "sex" at the dinner table!!!!" And she walked out the back door. The rebellious son, of all people, went outside to soothe her temper and coax her back inside.

His efforts worked, but after she came back in, she went upstairs to put away her coat and suitcase and didn't come back down. I followed her to her room and knocked on her door. She was still pretty upset with me and did not want her vulgar mother to come in. Meanwhile, Joe was busy printing something at the computer. Soon he handed me the "Parenting Guru's Guide to Raising Kids."

It had a list of basic facts about teaching children to be responsible, independent, respectful and smart. And last on the list, in large, bold letters, were the words he added himself-

"Do not ever mention the word 'sex' in front of your children!"

Funny Joe. Lesson learned. Maybe my words aren't the best way to teach them, maybe they can best learn about the sanctity of the human body, the glory of God within, through physical examples such as:

golden hair brushed gently into braids
hand squeezed during sign of peace
thumb brushing away tears that stain face
feather-soft kiss upon the forehead as sleep comes on
kneeling side by side as prayers are whispered
tender embrace of forgiveness
sideways glancing smile of pride
shoulder rubs and back scratches
husband and wife holding each other in an embrace

And I remember that it was only a few hours ago at work, that I had visited with a father and his one-year-old son who was born with a spinal disorder. Dad showed me the scar on child's back from the surgery that he had undergone after birth, told me how his child may never walk, that from the waist down he is unable to move any part of his body except his toes...

and I can run if I want to!

Then there was the young mother of five (just like me) whose baby just came home after two months in the NICU, born with a full right lung, but only half of his left lung, the baby who will require oxygen for his entire life, however short that may be, just so that he can draw in the clear, fresh air of life...

and I can freely breathe in and out without giving it a second thought!

And, too, I saw the young girl, just barely sixteen, holding a new life within her womb and I thought- "child holding child inside, take care of yourself!"

and I come home to children who wince at the very mention of sex!

I am blessed! This is the dinner lesson I want to remember-my body, all of our bodies-whether healthy and strong or weak and fragile- are so very, very beautiful! I think of the wondrous miracle that my eyes can see, my mouth can taste, my legs can move, my mind can think. This gift of body, glorious and magnificent in His image, IN HIS IMAGE, and what is He but LOVE?

O Lord of Love and Beauty, You who created us to look like You, to be like You, teach us to be grateful for our bodies and to treat them with the gentle, loving care than they deserve. Amen.

Enter Into My Rest...

I wake, exhausted before ever leaving my bed, force myself out and into the day, feeling a bit on top of things as I have the kids ready to leave by 6:45, pleased that for once we won't be late for Mass! Then, I sink to despair-my keys are gone! The last time this happened, my husband had taken them to work with him and I helplessly waited for him to return home with them. A frantic call to him at work and he tells me to check his dress coat pocket...and there they were.

On the drive to church, I have to smile as I recall the reason why my keys were in his coat pocket: last evenings dinner-the usual chaos over chicken dumpling soup-boys fighting, daughter crying, father yelling-this is the glue that holds family together?

But, then, dad gets our attention when he tells the fighting sons, "Just think, in one hour we will all be sitting close to one another with forced smiles on our faces!" Yes, it was family photo night for the church directory, that dreaded night when nothing we do can seem to get us all looking pleasant at the same time and I am reminded of how much I hate having my picture taken. Paul hates it too, and was probably so glad to be home that he forgot to put the keys on the hook in his relief to be home. So grateful that's over...

... we arrive at Church with a few minutes to spare, to quiet ourselves in the presence of the Lord before Mass begins. Then...

...I stand at the ambo, trembling as He speaks His words through me..."They shall not enter into my rest" (Hebrews 4:1-5)

I feel like a Hebrew follower of Moses, constantly complaining about my lot in life and His words meant for ME, "You shall not enter into my rest." (Hebrews 4:1-5) makes me think hard about how I live and refuse his gift of rest for the doing...

...instead, I push and I strive and I do too much...but it's never enough...

...I make it through the morning at work and return home to last night's dishes in the sink, a basket of never-ending laundry to fold, dirty floors and a sidewalk that needs shoveling once again. I'm tempted to crawl back into bed and pull the covers over my head.

But instead, I come upstairs to the computer with a bit of green pepper to feed to Daisy, the guinea pig, and take a few minutes of rest here before continuing with the tasks of life. With Daisy contentedly nibbling on my lap, I look at the words of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross on the sidebar of this page...

"When night comes, and retrospect shows that everything was patchwork and much that one had planned left undone, when so many things rouse shame and regret, then take all as is, lay it in God's hands, and offer it up to Him. In this way we will be able to rest in Him, actually to rest and to begin the new day like a new life."

...and I remember to lay my life in his hands, now, in the midst of activity and to-do lists and somehow trust that He will allow me to enter into His rest, and tomorrow will be like a new day.

continuing to count the gratitude...

6. a good night's sleep, a short moment of rest compared to what I hope He has in store for me eternally

7. waking to husband's kiss as he's leaving for work

8. yes, I'll write this, too-the Packer's beat the Bears and are going to the Super Bowl

9. quiet evenings alone with my daughter

10. BBQ pork sandwiches

11. work and an opportunity to earn money to support my family

12. coffee-warm and flavored sweet

13. daily Mass and oldest son who wakes early on his day off from school so that he can attend Mass with me

14. a brand-new journal covered with golden sequins that jingle-jangle, a gift from my long-time friend, Judy

15. a warm house on a cold day

16. hazelnut scented candles flickering shadows in the evening

17. listening to George Winston quietly tinkling the ivories

18. the soft eyes of the Lord looking out at me from my Sacred Heart of Jesus bookmark

19. my daughter's golden strands shining in the lamplight

20. starting a new day like a new life (and remembering a favorite quote from Anne of Green Gables-"tomorrow is a new day with no mistakes in it yet")

21. having a friend whose gift of words reminds me that I am a nobody, which is just the way I like it!

One Thousand Gifts

Ann Voskamp. Could she be the woman who has the power to change my life? To change me from a bent over, tear releasing, withering woman to one who learns how to feel joy again, no, more than feel it, to live joy? To live His joy-the joy He surely must have meant for me when He created me as a speck in my mother's womb? That day, nearly forty-six years ago, when He reached deep within her thirty-eight year old tired body, already the carrier of eight lives before my own, and changed me from His thought to a real, living human being?

I've been reading Ann's A Holy Experience blog ever since I started to write Imprisoned in my Bones in my effort to release the God that for too long I had kept bottled up inside of me, as if I were trying to contain the essence of EVERYTHING and seal Him back up within this real, living human body that He created. My first visit to Ann's place and I fell in love. Everyone does. Who could not love that little farmer's wife, mother to a brood of six homeschooling wonders, who turns mere words into wisdom and poetry and love; whose heartbreakingly beautiful piano music and photography of her family and her farm makes me turn to her page again and again; who took her own pain- unspeakable pain- and lifelong depression, and turned it into joy with a list. That's it. A list.

I've made a few stumbling attempts to follow her example, you've seen them right here on several Mondays. But, I didn't number my gratitude like she does. I simply wrote it. Maybe that will change now. Her book came in the mail this week. The book that I had pre-ordered online over a month ago; the book that arrived on a day so busy that I was going to go right from work to the school gym where I was signed up to volunteer at the admission table for my son's basketball tournament, collecting dollars from guests who came to cheer on their sons; the day where I would leave the house at 6:45 in the morning but wouldn't arrive back home until 10:30 at night.

But first...

First, I placed a quick telephone call home to say hello to my husband, and breathe a word of love to him through the phone line. He said, "Do you have a minute to stop at home and get your book?"

He didn't have to tell me what book he was speaking about. "It came? YES! I will be right there!"

Walking in the back door, I saw it, still in the cardboard cover, right next to a sandwich brimming with ham, lettuce and tomatoes for my supper. My husband loves me well. I quickly unwrapped One Thousand Gifts and embraced it close. I took my book, my sandwich and my daughter and headed to the gym where the rest of our family would meet us when it would be time for Jack's game to start.

In between taking the dollars from the sports fans-parents, grandparents and siblings who were bursting with pride for the young basketball player in their lives, and in between bites of my sandwich, and in between conversations with my daughter about her future hopes for marriage at age twenty-two with two children to follow, ("Not five, or seven, or ten?" "No, Mom, they might be bratty children and how would I handle so many of them?" "No life in a convent praying to the God you are so madly in love with?" "No, Mom, I will always, always be madly in love with God, but I don't want to be a nun.") -I began to read Ann's words. Her words of wisdom, poetry and love.

And when I read these words on page twenty-six-
"For years of mornings, I have woken wanting to die. Life itself twists into a nightmare. For years, I have pulled the covers up over my head, dreading to begin another day I'd be bound to just wreck. Years, I lie listening to the taunt of names ringing off my interior walls, ones from the past that never drifted far away: Loser. Mess. Failure. They are signs nailed overhead, nailed through me, naming me. The stars are blinking out. Funny, this. Yesterday morning, the morning before, all these mornings, I wake to the discontent of life in my skin. I wake to self-hatred. To the wrestle to get it all done, the relentless anxiety that I am failing. Always, the failing. I yell at children, fester with bitterness, forget doctor appointments, lose library books, live selfishly, skip prayer, complain, go to bed too late, neglect cleaning the toilets. I live tired. Afraid. Anxious. Weary. Years, I feel it in the veins, the pulsing of ruptured hopes. Would I ever be enough, find enough, do enough?"

I could feel my head nodding. Me too, Ann-Ann without the fanciful 'e', as she puts it. We share a name with or without an 'e', and we share pain. But, we both know that Ann(e) means "grace" and who better to show me how to live His grace, to accept His grace, to deeply live His grace, than a kindred Ann(e).

And I haven't gotten very far in the book. This morning, two days after receiving it, I open the book that I thought I would finish before leaving the basketball game and find that I am only on page forty-seven where she shares her story about how writing her list of One Thousand Gifts makes her feel happy. She says:

"Long, I am woman who speaks but one language, the language of the fall-discontentment and self-condemnation, the critical eye and the never satisfied...Well, if all these were gifts that God gives-then wasn't my writing down the list like...receiving. Like taking with thanks. Wait. 'And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them...' Gave thanks. This crazy-dare gift list-it's language lessons in eucharisteo! For real: But eucharisteo-it's the word Jesus whispered when death prowled close and His anguish trickled down bloody. He took the bread, even the bread of death, and gave thanks. I look down at my list. This thanks that I am doing-it seems so...crude. Trivial. If this list is the language of eucharisteo-this feels like...guttural groanings. But perhaps the "full of grace" vocabulary begins hauntingly, simply, like a child, thankful for the childlike. But doesn't the kingdom of heaven belong to such as these?"

I thought that I would pick up Ann's One Thousand Gifts and not put it down until I had devoured every last word along with my sandwich. The sandwich is long digested, but the book is going to take me forever to read through-each page gives me so much to consider, to contemplate. This book is taking me deeper into who God means for me to be. Thank you, Ann, without the fanciful 'e' for sharing your lessons with me, with everyone, and for carrying us along with you in your quest for gratitude.

It's time for me to really start my list...

1. rebellious son who wakes and finds me here typing, holds me long with his stretched out arms and whispers love, then asks "What time will you take me to confession?"

2. husband chef, who makes delicious sandwiches that nourish with love

3. kneeling low at a Holy Hour for life before an elaborate golden monstrance that houses the Author of life, and words from transitional deacon Christopher Klusman spoken in that glorious American Sign Language reminding all of their beauty that comes from the One who formed us fearfully, wonderfully, and I believe him, I believe that I am beautiful

4. words-words that drift from my mind through this keyboard and are shared with everyone on this blog, and with a few in intimate email messages, words of mine and words of others that have healing properties, words spilled out from me and words graciously meant for me, given to me by others, words that give love

5. women like Ann Voskamp who bravely share their pain and their searching for His grace so that I may learn how to find His grace as well

*************************************
Thank you, Ann, for One Thousand Gifts!

Spoon Under My Pillow

"They say that these are not the best of times
But they're the only times I've ever known
And I believe there is a time for meditation
In cathedrals of our own
Now I have seen that sad surrender in my lovers' eyes
I can only stand apart and sympathize
For we are always what our situations hand us
It's either sadness or euphoria"
Billy Joel- Summer, Highland Falls

How disappointing it is to work so hard for something only to see it slip through your fingers and escape your grasp. We've been getting a bit of snow here lately and my children were desperately wanting a snow day. An interesting story began to spread around the school and was inevitably acted out in our home. It was told that if they wore their pajamas backwards and inside out, placed a white crayon in the freezer, flushed an ice cube down the toilet and placed a spoon under their pillow before going to bed for the night, school would be canceled the next day due to excessive snow.

Can you imagine the excitement in my home when my two youngest heard this tale and decided to follow the directions? What great hope they held that they might be able to sleep in and avoid school the following day! But, when daybreak arrived and all of the snow had been shoveled and plowed away, the looks of disappointment on their faces made me want to cry right along with them!












Spoon Under My Pillow

For don't we all know
that deep disappointment,
that crushing of dreams, the letting go of our desires?

We want so badly to have control
of our little lives, but God
always sends surprises and we must humbly accept

And we find a place of comfort
deep within our hearts
where we can release our sorrow if only for a moment

We fall to our knees
bury our brokenness in our hands
and release the tears until numbness takes their place

But somehow we must hold on
to the hope that tomorrow offers
believing that God will carry us through to a new day

And so we place a spoon under our pillow,
a relic in our palm, a seed within the garden
and faithfully carry on

We trudge on through the snow
we pray and work our normal day
believing that tomorrow new joys will come our way

Vocation Celebration!

In a recent reflection on his vocation at the Roses for Our Lady Holy Hour at St. Francis de Sales Seminary, Fr. Norman Schwartz mentioned that at the time when he was ordained, the current rector of the Seminary, Fr. Don Hying, was just a toddler. Fr. Norman said that he could look at Fr. Don like a spiritual grandson. He mentioned that today's seminarians need spiritual grandsons as well; young men who will one day become ordained priests to carry on the priesthood.

Well, there is a group of young men who are working towards their own possible priesthood, and who encourage others who are also discerning a vocation to the priesthood. Those young men manage the website A Vocation to be a Priest and this week they are celebrating their second year on the internet! Won't you keep them in your prayers, as well as all of those men who are discerning a call to the priesthood, those who are in the Seminary and those who are already serving the Church as ordained priests?

And for a really great vocation story, please visit Fr. Michael Klos' Holy Family Blog. You will be moved by his uplifting story!

Fill Our Hearts

He needs love, this boy of mine, with body stretched so tall that he passed up the whole family. He eats and eats and grows and grows. But what can fill his heart?

His heart is growing, too-but he rejects the food that can satisfy it and too often it remains empty, aching, searching for meaning and fulfillment. He's often tempted to take whatever junk food that comes along-from television, internet and peers-and stuff his heart with that instead of the nourishment that comes from the food of God-His very Word.

He reaches out his arms and holds me close, holds me long. I don't want to let go. I'm afraid he'll never come back. I fight with myself over the holding on and the letting go. And he always wants to go; he wants to go away from the family, away from home, away from love.

I don't blame him, really. We love so poorly. We don't know how. Instead of gently stroking his face and whispering tender words, we yell and shout. We blame and judge and accuse. We force him to fast from the tender love of family because we ourselves are often overfull of fear and haven't enough love with which to nourish him.

He thinks he's ready to be unleashed to the world, to cut his binding ties that hold him close. He wants to be set free to new experiences with his friends. I say no, not yet, stay close for a while longer. Learn obedience, even when it's painful, dull, lonely. Learn that sometimes love says no and you will survive having your desires denied.

And he turns his back in anger. My heart is torn and a piece breaks off and falls to the ground. What's left of my heart is now open, bleeding, and wondering how to make this right, how to lessen the hurt. I take him to God in my prayer-please Lord, help him love you, help him to do what is right. And help me to do what is right, too. What is right, Lord? Am I doing ok? Will we survive this turbulent time? Will he grow to be a fine young man? Will his life give you glory?

I look in the mirror of my past, and instead of a pudgy, middle-aged woman whose very appearance embarrasses her son, I see the young girl I once was, the girl just like him, the girl who wanted to be popular, who wanted to make her own way in the world without the rules of her parents and her God. That girl shed many tears in her struggle for freedom and felt that her parents could never seem to say or do the right things to please her.

And now I'm the parent unable to please. But my son, no matter how much he reminds me of myself, is not me. His story is different than mine. I need to trust that God's plans for him will all turn out good, he will be good. He might struggle for freedom from me, but he will always remain rooted in God. God will not let go of my son, just like He never let go of me. God will win, He always does.

Dear God, please hold my little-boy-growing-to-a-man close to your heart, and stitch my torn heart using trust for the thread. Strengthen our love for one another and for You, fill our hearts with Your goodness. Carry us through this time of trial without one tear shed in vain. Use them to water the world with Your love. Amen.

Texts to a Friend

Ever have one of those friends who you wish would come over and hang out more often, but he's too busy with his on-again/off-again girlfriend? The friend that has given his independence and namesake all in the promise of nookie? Yeah, a lot of us have that problem. First, it starts with a text that reads, "Stop break-up bonin' and get over here" as a simple form of coercion. Then, as you and your buddies get irritated with the almost typical lack of response from this renegade of the flock, more creative quips come to mind.

For those of you in a similar situation, I offer you these catchy tidbits. I did not write them all. I came up with a few. It was a collaboration between the Four Horsemen (and horsewoman) of the Textpocalypse.

* Don't be a fool. Take back your tool.

* Keep it real-ly. Stop gettin' feel-y.

* Don't be a weenis. Pull out your penis.

* You've been bonin' too long. Your schlong has gone wrong.

* Don't fall for that trick. Hide your prick.

* Get over the O-Face. Get over to our place. >O

* Get over your fear, and come have a beer!

* On the bitch you should bail and come have an ale.

* Go out with a bang, then pull out your wang.

* Put on a lid. Don't give us a kid.

* Come exercise your wits, not your dangly bits.

* If she dumps your ass, you've got a free pass.

* Stop hittin' that shit. Come hang out for a bit.

* Stop pipin' the floozy and come have a boozy.

* Don't play in the trash. You'll get a rash.

* Come hang with your friends. Our fun never ends.

* We just wanna see ya... without Gonorrhea.

* We think you're more hip without the green drip.

* You know we're just joking, but seriously.... stop poking!

* Quit it with that whore. That's all we're askin' for.

* Stop taking that grimy cruise and give up the faulty ruse.

* There's still time for hangin', so just stop bangin'!

* You didn't go see a movie, so quit feelin' up her booby.

* If you want to be a man, get your willy out of her can.

* What a blooper! You got stuck in her pooper!

* Stop takin' a golden shower and come over for an hour.

* Don't go for her heiny; you're getting all slimy.

* There's no time to waste, so just come in her face.

* Stop feeding her splooge; you're becoming her stooge!

* Stop re-enacting porn. Just toot your own horn.

* If she's addicted to winky, just buy her a slinky.

* Don't be a dink! Get out of the pink!

* Stop bangin' that hoe bag..... and no..... really...... just come over.

Calling Me Closer

Having just come from Tiffany's blog, Family at the Foot of the Cross, I find that I have been deeply moved by her story of a recent experience at Adoration where she witnessed a woman who was clearly in a deep love relationship with the Lord, and I feel that my whole perspective on my relationship with the Lord has been challenged.

Whenever I go to Adoration or attend a group Holy Hour or daily Mass, I always sit in the back (unless I'm the lector.) I guess it's my way of saying I'm not worthy to come closer and I also enjoy being able to see all of the other people who are there, drawing a feeling of loving community from them, realizing that we are all there to offer praise and worship to the Lord. I'd been in the habit of looking at all of the people gathered as one, and I always ask God to please hear all of our prayers, not simply my own.

But, maybe I've got it wrong-maybe I should be right in front, as close as I can get. Perhaps God is calling me to come closer in prayer and not let all of the other people distract me from Him. Maybe for the short time that I spend in worship at Church and at Adoration Chapels, He wants me all for Himself and wants me to feel His love as a gift for me alone. Could it be that through that hour of close and loving rest near His Eucharistic Heart, I will be strengthened to carry on with all of the responsibilities for which He has commissioned me?

O Lord, draw me close to you. Let me inside of Your Most Sacred Heart, where love and peace abound. Give me the courage and the strength to carry on Your will for me in this world of temptation and pain. Keep me forever within Your love. Amen.