Goodbye, 2015

Dear Family,

This might be the first year of blur.   The year in which the days seemed short.   We were home less, we ran around more.  

I look back at 2015 and realize we have strengthened.  Dad and I don't pause often to share that with you between soccer and hockey and play practice and school.  Between faith formation lessons and homework and cleaning bedrooms and folding the towels you refuse to reuse.

But we have.  

This is the year you went back to your school not as the new kids.   You tried things you didn't know you would:  Tom running for student council with a campaign speech, Lucy auditioning for a play with kids 5 grades ahead of her, and Jimmy settling in for an extra hour of school at book club each week.   Frankie has been busy in church montessori, learning about the Mass and its special, holy Atrium.   We all have put ourselves out there.

We are proud of you.   We are proud of all these things you have reached for and enjoyed, but we are also proud JUST for the reaching.   We are proud for the times you have seen another student struggling and your teacher has reported how you reached out to help, and we are proud of the times you put yourself second and realized you could be an amazing brother or sister just by slowing down to help our youngest.   You are all so selfless, children.   Sometimes we see you spending your allowance down to the penny for another kid in our family and we are moved.   We want you to look out for yourself, but in being in our family, you have learned that looking out for yourself means giving to the collective.

How beautiful.

Sometimes the daily bumps of living with five other people blot out the shining beauty of this family, but today I see you for the beauty you have glowing inside.   

I see you, Frank, for the sweetness God has given you, which tranfixes us in our hardest moments.  We become angry but are softened by you, Frankie.  

Jimmy, I see you for your innate curiosity.   Your stream of consciousness reflections on life are deep beyond seven years.  You are vulnerable, too; needing our reassurance of love and belief.   

Lucy, I see in you that spark and drive from love.   You are aglow with wanting to share your kindness.  

Tom, I see in you a never-faltering sense of duty.   You always know what is right in life.   When you have the chance to be generous or dutiful, you do it and you don't really have to talk about it. 

Happy New Year's, my children.   I hope that the things your Dad and I are learning each year are passed onto you.  For us, the last few years have illuminated that hardship presses families to either lean into God or to turn away.   We have chosen to lean in, and we feel so strongly that God has surrounded us with a community to support us in our journey.

Love, 

Mom

Thank You, Family

Dear Family,

Thank you so much for the Christmas gift this week.  It wasn't wrapped under the tree, but when I received it, my heart warmed and I realized how blessed I am.

Tommy, you gave me the gift of a song sung quietly along to the car radio.   I turned down the volume to hear your wonderful voice, and you kept singing, trusting me with the special closeness of our daily life.  Not thinking I would judge you or laugh.   You were comfortable alongside me.  You were comfortable with yourself.

Lucy, you gave me the gift of laughter!   I look over at you sometimes, giggling with your cousins, and I see the wild eyes of joy that are so easily a part of who you are.   Your giggly joy is infectious and makes others around you happy.

Frank, you gave me the gift this week of a seeming-endless chattering before naptime with me in our bed.   You sang to yourself, pointed out features on your hands and my face, and finally told me about how Jesus puts a band-aid on our hearts.   How did you know I needed a band-aid on my heart in that moment, as I absorbed some difficult news about life?  Surely Jesus sent you as a gift to me.

Jimmy, you, too, gave me a gift this week.   A gift of time.   In your long illness this week before Christmas, you amazed me with a positive attitude.  You didn't complain.   You asked for homework; you studied for first reconciliation.   You waited patiently for doctors.   You listened.  You ran to me, still, to share funny anecdotes and joy.   It is a gift to see someone in pain still smile and love life.

And husband, you give me so many gifts it is hard to count.  But this week, I noticed especially the gift you have of caring for all of us first, in a selfless way that doesn't ask for thanks.  You are so humble and amazing.

I love you, my family!   I am so happy that we get to be together at Christmas.

Love, 

Mom

to my hardworking husband: things you don't always see

When the kids are worn out and tired, and they're falling apart, and you finally get to come home after a long day,

sometimes you have to miss their best moments.

Like right now, when Lucy (8) invited little Alayna (3) over to play and is pretty much baby-sitting her.  She is quietly teaching her how to paint and clean the brushes.  She is playing Barbies with her.   She is talking to her oh-so-gently about how very lucky we are to have a house and toys, and how some people don't have those things, so we should be thankful.

And earlier, when Frank was jumping whole hog into my arms off the edge of the deep end at the pool.  And every time shouting, "Do it again!"  And his face lighting up with joy that an adult just can hardly imagine.   

There are so many, many moments like this.   I wish we could bottle them up for you, my dear.

Thank you.

A Summertime Note

To my eldest three,

Tomorrow is August first, and what a summer it has been!   You kids are growing so strong, tan, and capable these days.   I leave you home alone for an hour if I have to run Frankie to school or head to Kwik trip, and you hold down the fort and *sometimes* put away a whole load of dishes for me.   Last night, you finished a session of swimming lessons and I was amazed at how hard you worked.  Jimmy, I thought you would burst into flames from the sheer speed of that side-breath stroke.

There are ups and downs in this family.  Somehow, when Daddy and I take you out for ice cream, you guys can find the most minute factors about which to bicker.   Most often than I would like, a kick-fight breaks out in a public setting.  Currently, you are all on no-screen grounding due to too much laughter and bickering at church last weekend.  How these two opposites can be achieved in a moment of life is beyond your mother's comprehension.

But I digress.  You are maturing.  You look at the world around us and wonder who you will become.   Tom, you ask how you will pay your mortgage and afford college.   Jim, you fix bike gears and analyze how things are constructed.  Lucy, you don athletic shorts and an unfussy pony tail and set out determined to have as much social interaction as could take place before sundown.

You all share a great and protective love for your brother, Frankie.   Since entering the terrible threes, Frank is prone to fits of screaming and poop accidents that sometimes, literally, have hit the fan.   But then, he is sweet.  Snuggling up with the closest individual, you can't help but love a boy who pops his thumb in his mouth and gives you his heart.   

This is a houseful of big kids these days.   Boys who ask if it might be appropriate to purchase a swimsuit calendar* (no!) and a girl who wonders why it is relevant to keep a room clean because if we lived in the jungle, it wouldn't make a differences.  

Kids who, I hope, know they are loved so deeply that the magnitude of it is impossible to grasp.

As always, I pray that you know how God made you unique and strong in His plan for life.   I pray, too, that Daddy and me might know the strength we were given to corral you and coax you and kiss you even when you spill milk again and again and again.

With great love,

Mom

*If you thought I would miss a chance to preach about the importance of recognizing women for our inner strength and beauty in addition to our God-given exterior beauty, you were, of course, mistaken.   Keep it classy.

On growing up

An old thought I felt captured this stage:

On the day of my daughter's 8th birthday,  I look around and realize we are raising children and not little ones.   My eldest has grown and changed.  He is thinking deeply, socially aware, and wondering what his place is in the world.   My thirdborn is sensitive, honest, and loving.  

I didn't realize their legs would grow and become so strong.  I didn't realize they would shoot up to half our height and keep growing.   I thought, for so many years, that going to the indoor park at the mall would just be our way of life forever.

Now they stand next to the height limit yardstick a little wistful, noting how they have grown and a bit how they long to be goofy little munchkins again.

This is the time of the in-between.   They aren't babies and they aren't teens, and they are ours to hold and tuck in at night.   They have big fears and big hearts.

The responsibility is also great for me.

But as one of my fellow moms said last week at our Bible study, we don't have to put all the pressure on ourselves.  Ultimately, God is guiding this course.   Every day, I have to get up and try my hardest to give these growing children what they need so much.  And I pray that God gives me the grace to get at least some of it right.

I love these kids.

I pray that, as we X off the days going so quickly by on the lunch calendar, there is time in between to talk about what is really important in life.  I pray for the strength to correct with love, to prioritize with grace, and to be the mom that God is calling me to be.  I pray for my husband, too.

Spring Reflection

Dear kids,

It's 7:19 and you are giving your mom a little quiet time by sleeping in today.  I can't believe how much our family has come through over the last year.   Easter put me in a contemplative mood yesterday.

A new school.  Dad and I surprised you all with the news of a major transition last spring.   I know our neighborhood school is wonderful, and it was difficult to decide to change course and switch you kids into Catholic school.   It took us many years of prayer and conversation to make that decision, and we trust that over time, the transition will offer each of you something great.   I hear you guys grumble about uniforms and faith education from time to time, and I hope that in your hearts, you know we are looking out for what we believe to be the most important part of your self-development.  There are good teachers and good people everywhere, but we are hoping you can learn to lay your trust in God in this new place.

We just returned from Disneyworld and your first airplane experience.  The ride home was bumpy (and airsickness-producing), but the days beforehand were filled with laughter and stretching of ourselves.   There is a lot of magic in seeing the creativity humankind puts forth.   We will not forget the Great Movie Ride with the mobsters or the Peter Pan Flight for some time to come.   

Yesterday in church, you sat pretty quietly.  I looked around the sanctuary and realized most of you kids are past the wiggling little kid stage.   What seemed like an endless time of shushing is gone, replaced by the stage of you quietly squeezing one another's hand too tightly during the Our Father or playing some mysterious finger game stealthily when I look the other way.  I'm breathing a sigh of relief, to be honest.   You come home from church sometimes really moved by the words you hear.  Last week, Tommy remarked that kids around the world are hungry and need help, and so maybe getting an iPad shouldn't be the top priority.

After Mass yesterday, we did something as a family that I didn't expect but found amazing.  We delivered your cards and the cards other church kids had made to a senior living facility next door.   We met new people, and we heard an old woman sigh, remembering aloud all the places she had visited in her life.  She spoke of her life knowing she had reached her final chapter.

The residents were so happy to see you kids.   You shyly knocked on doors, expanding your circle to include a generation you don't usually reach.   You made them laugh and smile.  You hugged them.   

My children, if I can leave you with anything, let it be that this gift of yourself is more important than the other things society is pushing us to achieve.  You are smart and talented, but getting As and getting picked for a sports team or play is not as important as touching another life and putting someone else first.  You learn so much from giving.

I don't really have to give you that advice, though, kiddos.  You do it so naturally.

I love you.

Mom