Category: Uncategorized (Page 1 of 11)

Did you know that rockhopper penguin mothers have to risk being eaten by seals to get food for their babies and then hop up steep rocks to get back to the father while he keeps the chick safe? They do this every day. I learned this while watching “The Americas.” Sheesh. I thought I had it bad.

I wonder how many times in the decades of marriage and motherhood I have answered “What’s for dinner?”  I also wonder how many times I asked my own mother. Every family has someone who takes the lead planning and cooking meals. Sometimes it is the husband, but traditionally it has been the wife.

My mother was a good cook, and I think I am pretty good too, but I admit to limited menus. She learned to cook in the south and then married an Italian, so that expanded her horizons. I have branched out a little beyond meat, potatoes, or pasta, but I have never made anything spicy like Indian food. My and my husband’s taste palettes can’t take anything too hot. He says he would rather sweat from exercise than food.

Taste palettes are only one factor in deciding, of course. Budget and the number of people who need to eat often make decisions for us. I consider myself lucky that most of my family likes leftovers or “must-goes” as I have heard them called.

Although I am often tired of hearing and answering, “What’s for dinner?” I am grateful that I live in a time and place where there are so many choices. After watching the penguins, I am also thankful I don’t have to hop up rocks to get home from the store.

I understand that we all form our opinions based on our experiences. I also understand that a lot of people have had bad experiences with religion. However, I am tired of hearing so many negative opinions about religion. I have seen posts on social media that say Jesus hated religion. I don’t agree. Jesus is God, and God is all about love. He does not hate. However, Jesus did get angry about what had become of His religion. The leaders were more interested in the laws than God’s love. They turned His temple into a “den of thieves.” (Mt 21:13) He was angry about what had become of His religion, but that did not stop Him from practicing it. He still read the Torah, He still prayed, and He still celebrated Passover.

All religions are supposed to be inspired by a higher power, but all religions are run by humans. Therefore, there will be misguided beliefs, sin, and corruption. I don’t think any religion interprets Scripture perfectly, but I believe Truth with a capital “T” exists. Jesus says that He is “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6), and I believe it. I just don’t think humanity is capable of understanding all of God’s Word.

News outlets report on the sins of priests and ministers, and I agree that anyone who harms another should be prosecuted, but not all priests and ministers are corrupt. Most are men and women who want to bring God to their communities. The media rarely covers the charitable work churches do or the little everyday things churchgoers do for each other.

Those of us who have faith believe that there is life beyond this world. I personally believe in Jesus and eternal life in Heaven, but I don’t think I would have this belief if my parents didn’t bring me up in the Church. I try to be a Christian first and a Catholic second. In fact, I often think the Catholic Church has too many rules and is not as welcoming as it should be.  I am sad to see it hurt people by being so strict, but this does not erase all the good I have gotten from it in my life.

I know Christ because of my religion. I met my best friend because of my religion. I get a sense of community every time I go to Mass. People have told me that I have a calming influence over them. I wouldn’t have that without my religion because without my religion, my faith in God wouldn’t be as strong.

I have non-Catholic Christian relatives and friends who have strong faith because of their denominations. My extended family is faithful because of religion. I have been to services at Lutheran, Methodist, Nazarene, and Assembly of God churches. Other than the Eucharist, as far as I can tell, our basic beliefs are the same.

If you feel there is more to life than what you are living or if you feel an emptiness inside and you have not tried to know God, I wish you would. Start by reading the New Testament. Then research religions to find one that matches your way of thinking. Church shop until you find a good fit because even within one denomination, the churches can be different.

If you had a bad experience with “church people,” please don’t give up on God because of human failings. In my experience, there is more good than bad in religion. I hope it can be the same for you.

When I was little, my Aunt Winnie would visit from out of state, and I was fascinated with her purse. I must have asked what she kept in there because whenever she came, she would let me look through it. I don’t remember specifics of what I found, but I do remember telling her she should go on “Let’s Make a Deal” because whatever Monty Hall might ask for, she would have in her big bag.

I have a fully stuffed purse myself now, and I’m not sure I even know what all is in there. I was waiting for Mass to start one Sunday when I overheard a lady behind me tell her friend that she must have scraped her arm on a tree branch because it was bleeding. Neither of them had purses. “Hmm, I thought. I probably have something she could use.”  So, I started to dig and found multiple sizes of Bandaids and some alcohol wipes. I handed them back to her.

Months later I was at church when the woman recognized me. “You’re the one who saved me the day I cut my arm,” she said, “Your purse is perfect!” It was then that I realized I am my generation’s Aunt Winnie. I don’t plan to go on today’s version of “Let’s Make a Deal,” but if I did, I just might win some money.

I fell and twisted my ankle two days before hosting Christmas dinner. I was able to do most of what needed to be done, but I found myself asking, “Would you mind?” about several things I would normally do myself. At one point, my son jokingly asked, “What if I do mind?” I smiled and told him I would ask him to do it anyway.

To me, one of the best ways to show our love for someone is to help them even when we don’t want to. More importantly, we should do it without complaint or resentment.

Whenever we go out of our way for another, we show that we care for that person. So, the next time someone asks if you mind doing something, you have the freedom to refuse to do what they ask. You are not required to put yourself at risk or extreme discomfort. However, if you want to show your love, do it whether you mind or not.

How many times in our lives do we experience something and say, “I’ll never forget this?” I used to say that, but not anymore. When those moments come along now, I pray that I won’t forget.

The truth is we don’t know what we will remember and what we won’t. My dad lost his short-term memory after a stroke, but he could remember things from long ago that the rest of us forgot. One time he kept telling my mom that we planted corn in our yard when we were kids, but she thought he was imagining it. As soon as she told me, I could picture exactly where we planted that corn. The only reason I remembered it was because he did. My mom laughed when I said, “Um, Mom, I think we did plant corn in the side yard one summer. I think Uncle Roy gave us some seeds.”

We were lucky that my dad knew us till the end. This was not the case with my mother-in-law. Dementia, Alzheimer’s, strokes, or brain injuries can happen to anyone. It is sad to watch it happen to those we love, but I believe that while their bodies fail them, their souls endure. Somewhere in there, their souls know us and love us. My faith that Heaven exists helps me cope. I hope that when the time comes, we will be reunited, and they will once again recognize us.

She had been out with her siblings looking for the “best leaves.”

“Let me show you,” she said and ran outside to get one of her favorites, “See?”

Raggedly beautiful,

Maple shaped like on the Canadian flag,

Hues of burgundy and rust–

She set a single leaf in front of me.

“You can have it,” she offered.

It is one of millions of fall-colored leaves from thousands of trees,

But it is special because it is given with love.

While surfing TV channels, I found the movie “Breakfast Club” which came out some years after I graduated high school. It is about teens spending a Saturday in detention and how they come to know each other.

While I am way past my teen years, I can still remember what it was like for me. I was not popular, athletic, or super smart. I wasn’t weird enough to shake my dandruff onto a drawing, but I was also not artistic enough to draw. Despite all of this, I can still identify with most of the characters. A person’s teenage years can be both terrifying and exhilarating. Teens are full of hope and possibilities, but with that comes pressure to become adults.

By junior year of high school, they must figure out what comes next. Will they continue their education? If so, where and for what? If not further education, how will they earn money? I have heard of parents who kicked their kids out of the house upon high school graduation. I have also known parents who did not push their kids at all once graduated. I try not to judge because what is right for one person may not be right for another. As a parent, it is difficult to know what to do.

When my children were teenagers, I watched “Breakfast Club” again as a mom, and it scared me. We only get to know the characters’ parents through the eyes of the teens, but it appears that only one of them abused their child. The rest of them may have honestly thought they were being good parents, or they were so wrapped up in their own lives that they didn’t care as much as they should. I read once that it doesn’t matter what kind of parent you are so much as how your kids perceive you. How did my kids perceive their dad and me? I am still not sure which was harder—being a teen or raising them. I am not exaggerating when I say it was a relief to be done with both phases of my life.

It seems to me that today’s teens have it harder than past generations. Social media, school shootings, and fentanyl poisoning are stresses that weren’t issues before. These are in addition to the stresses of just growing up.

So, if I meet teens as clerks in stores or restaurants, at church activities, or anywhere else, I try to be patient and kind. Even under the best of circumstances, they are going through a difficult time of life.

Today I attempted to sew a ripped part of a stuffed octopus. “Oh,” you are asking, “Is it a favorite toy of your grandchild?” No, no. It is my granddog’s toy. He will most likely rip it to shreds much faster than I took trying to save it.

I don’t mind trying to fix it even though I am not a pet person.  It is true. I don’t plan to ever own a dog or any other pet. My husband agrees. Please don’t judge us.

A friend of mine recently admitted to a room full of people that she does not like dogs, and there was a hush among the group. It was as if she said something sacrilegious. I’m sure they were thinking, “How can anyone not like dogs?!!!.”

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t dislike animals. I am a “love you, love your pet” kind of person. Many of my relatives have dogs, and I help with them. I have played a game with an elderly poodle so he would take his heart medicine. I have browned beef for a vegetarian’s dog that is allergic to chicken. I have taken dogs for walks including cleaning up after them. I once sat in a room and read with a dog because it couldn’t handle being around strangers. Best of all, I have missed a walk in the woods with a close relative because her dog was a “shy pooper.”

It isn’t just dogs that I have helped care for. I have made salads for turtles, fed a hissing cat, and cleaned litter boxes more than once in my life.

It is possible that all of this just encourages me not to get a pet of my own, though I hope it shows the love I have for my family and friends. That’s about it. I would type more, but my fingers a sore from trying to push a needle through an octopus.

When I was very young, we would visit one of my aunts in Indiana who had an upright piano. I was fascinated by it, and my mom decided that one way or another, she would get a real piano for me. The toy one I got for Christmas wouldn’t do. Listening to the local radio station one day, she heard a woman call in saying she wanted to sell her piano for $50—first come, first served. My mom was on it!

 My uncle and my dad loaded it into my uncle’s pickup truck, and my dad pretended to play it as they drove. We lived on a busy street, but they managed to stop out front and get it up the front stairs of our bungalow. It went along a wall of the dining room, and I loved it. There weren’t any other kids in our neighborhood to play with, so I spent a lot of time practicing that first year or so.

 When we moved to another house, the only place for it was in the living room. After playing outside with the neighborhood kids (yay!), I would go inside to practice, but by then someone in the family wanted to watch TV. I stopped taking lessons after two or three years, but I formed some good memories with that piano.

 I can still play the very first song I learned. I think it was called “Jumping Frog” or something like that. In high school, my flutist friend and I played “Color My World” by Chicago. It felt good to play with someone, and neighbors complimented us. My last memory of really playing that piano was before I got married and moved out of my parents’ house. I was “grandma sitting” since the rest of my family needed to go somewhere. She listened while I played every song I knew. I made a lot of mistakes, but she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. She passed away a few months after my wedding, so I’m glad I had that day.

The piano was eventually moved to another family member until they no longer wanted it. After my parents moved in with my sister, my mom paid to have it moved across state lines. Friends and family occasionally played it there for a couple of decades. Our parents have passed away, and my sister recently asked if I minded if she got rid of the piano. Despite its different homes, everyone still thinks of it as mine. I told her it was okay with me. It is 100 years old by now and not in good enough shape to donate, so they are slowly dismantling it and throwing it away.

It is a little sad, but an upright piano is a lot more difficult of a family heirloom to pass down than a grandma’s locket or a great-grandpa’s hammer. Memories are the real value of heirlooms. When I think of my piano, I think of how much my parents and my uncle loved me by buying it and moving it, I remember how I took solace in that first lonely house without friends nearby and the feeling I had with my new neighborhood friend and her flute. I think of the gift of time I gave to my grandmother, and I think of the nieces and nephews who continued to play it long after I moved away. One thing is for sure, we got our $50 worth!

Sometimes TV shows remind us of the importance of the everyday. I recently watched a rerun of the last episode of “Everybody Loves Raymond,” primarily written by Phil Rosenthal and Ray Ramono. In it, Ray has trouble waking up after minor surgery. After he is home and fine, his wife Debra tears up when she tells him about errands and household chores she plans to do. She is still reeling from those thirty seconds when she thought she had lost him. She is thankful to be able to do tedious tasks that might normally annoy her.

The same week I watched the last two episodes of “Young Sheldon,” created by Chuck Lorre and Steven Molaro. In those, the main characters are getting ready for a family portrait while waiting for George Sr. to get home. Instead, there is a knock on the door. George had a heart attack at work and didn’t survive.

The writers and actors in both shows portrayed very real situations. Everyday life is a string of moments where we mostly perform mundane tasks, but every now and then something will jolt us into appreciating the very things that sometimes annoy us. Everyone gets a phone call or knock on the door sometime in their lives.

On a recent road trip, my husband and I had to take a detour from the interstate. The interstate was closed because of a fatal accident. A family somewhere was getting a phone call or knock on the door. After getting through the detour, we were delayed again because of another accident. We saw three smashed cars when we were able to get by.

Before knowing why the interstate was closed and about the second accident, we were frustrated about the delays. After knowing that someone died in the first and seeing the aftermath of the second, we were just thankful to be home. It could have been us in those accidents, but it wasn’t. No one would get a phone call or knock on the door about us that day. I could only pray for the families who did. Their everydays will never be the same.