Satan's Lies

i try to write

i want to write

but echoes in my mind

are satan's words

that began sometime

in 1999

I think so often about subjects and thoughts and ideas I want to write about. Then something...someone holds me back.  It's me.  I know that ultimately it is me.  Yet, I feel Satan at the forefront and I need to be stronger to hold that nasty fallen angel back.

Back in 1999 I began sending out weekly musings.  They were meant to be thoughtful, reflective, and, hopefully, inspirational messages.  Sometimes they were merely a quote that touched my heart.  Sometimes they were a reflection on my week followed by a quotation that I found inspiring.

After some time, it came to my attention that some people dear to me were getting together each week to tear apart what I had written -- my thoughts, my dreams, my heart.  I shared my week and what inspired me in the hopes that it, by God's grace, would inspire someone else only to discover that some were using that to laugh at me, poke fun at me.  Who did I think I was?

I wrote less and less often and by January of 2003 my sporadic writing came to a halt.  I allowed Satan's prodding to work its way into my mind and bring me to a standstill. 

I certainly didn't think I had the corner on being inspired by a simple life.  I take great inspiration from others who are trying to live humbly and share their journey - highs, lows, and in-betweens - with others.  I tried to do the same. To be completely honest, I fall short of this goal each and every day.  However, I continue to lift myself up and try.  Yet there is one area that I continue to fall short.  Writing.

I don't believe that my thoughts, experiences, or words hold any kind of wisdom or wonder for people.  However, I've always felt drawn to share what I'm thinking, how I see God working in my days, the wonder and beauty in the moments I usually let slip by thinking that they are not worthy of my attention. 

So, here I am challenging myself to push through.  Push through Satan's lies. Some, for whatever reason, may not appreciate my words and thoughts.  That is OK.  I need to trust in what the Lord wants me to do and not what others, and what Satan, wants me to believe.  

And my own struggles made me wonder about your struggles.  What holds you back?  Why does it hold you back?  How can you change that?

It can be so difficult to put your heart and soul out into the world.  Where do you feel that push out of your comfort zone?  How does God want you to stretch?  What, if anything, is holding you back?

I began this blog late in 2011.  How often have I written?  Not nearly as often as I think of something.  Satan's lies continue to ring in my mind.  His nasty message echoes back and forth making me question what I think, what I love.

We can't let Satan win.  He chips away at us. He wants to plant doubt and confusion.  It is easy for him.  Often times he begins with something small - so very small.  He plants that doubt, he makes you aware of the nastiness, and then lets that ferment. It comes to life and holds us back.

Let's all take some time to pray. Let's take some time to discern the places in our lives where Satan is telling us untruths and God is quietly waiting for us to hear His truth.  1 Peter 4:8 says, "Discipline yourselves, keep alert. Like a roaring lion your adversary the devil prowls around, looking for someone to devour."

I know that one - one of many - of Satan's lies is to push me away from writing.  What is Satan telling YOU untruths about?  Let's work together.  Let's lift one another up. God wants great things for us. -- " For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope."  (Jeremiah 29:11)

Who are we going to listen to?  Who is going to win?

Feet Washing

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

John 13:15

Holy Thursday is one of my favorite liturgies to attend.  I didn't grow up attending this Mass.  In fact, it wasn't until I was an adult and a priest asked me to be a reader for Holy Thursday that I attended.  I was so moved to my core and haven't missed a Holy Thursday liturgy since then.

In John's gospel, he recounts how during the Last Supper Jesus washed the disciples' feet.  At that time, this would have been a job for the lowliest of servants.  However, Jesus does this and tells his disciples that not only can they not follow him if they do not allow him to wash their feet, but that this is an example for them of how to live.  To serve.  To serve all.

During Holy Thursday's liturgy, the priest takes off his chasuble and washes the feet of 12 people.  Often, the priest will kiss the feet of the person upon completion of the washing.  It is beautiful.  It is symbolic.  It is a reminder to the priest and to all of us of what we are called to do as a follower of Jesus.

This particular Holy Thursday, the foot washing ritual hit my heart particularly hard.  I watched our parish priest pour water over the feet, gently clean them, dry them, and kiss them.  And I saw my father. 

Two years ago, my mom suffered a minor stroke.  She has some deficits.  Not as many as some people, but definitely more than others.  My father has filled the role over these last two years as her caretaker.  

When I am at my folk's house, I see my dad prepare meals for my mom.  At breakfast, he gets her cereal or toast ready and brings it to her.  At lunch, he brings over a paper plate with a sandwich, a cookie (or two), and a glass of milk.  Dinner is prepared and brought over to the table.  

Because of some health issues, my mom has to wear very tight nylon stockings.  It takes quite an effort for my dad to get these on my mom.  She is quiet even though it is painful.  And he is kind and patient and as gentle as possible as he works to get the stockings on her.

He makes her laugh.  Throughout the tough moments of the day, he tells jokes or does silly things to bring a smile to her face.  She still has tough days and moments of tears, but he can make her laugh like no one else can.  I am grateful that their days have many moments of laughter woven through the many moments of challenges.

My mom hates not being able to do things for herself and her family that she could do before the stroke.  My father has stepped into the role of caretaker without complaining even though he has some health issues himself.

Meals and stockings and laughter.  Just three small details of the many things that my dad now does on a daily basis to help my mom.  He serves.

Jesus washed the disciples' feet.  

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

The priest washed the parishioner's feet.

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

Every day, I see my father following Jesus' example with humility and grace.  

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

My mom's stroke has changed much of how we live.  More so for them, of course, but in different ways for their children and grandchildren as well.  However, it has also brought many opportunities to grow in faith and love.  My siblings and I have been given a grace through all of this.  We are witnesses of God's love being manifested through my parents in a way that it didn't before.

"For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you."

I pray that I can live out this example every day as beautifully as I see it lived out every time I am around my parents. 

  

What's In A Name?

"You can call me Ray.  Or you can call me Jay..."  Do you remember that commercial? (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D7n9YX1Xfw4) That's a little bit of how I feel right now.

I was named after my auntie.  She was a great woman.  Her name was Dorothy.  People called her Dot.

My folks thought about what to call me - my given name or a nickname.  My dad believed that kids would call me by a nickname at some point and so my folks decided from the get-go to shorten my name.  My family called me Dottie.

Then I went to school.  There was always the dreaded first day when the teacher would do role call and call me by my name, "Dorothy."  No one called me Dorothy.  It sounded foreign to my ears.  "Dottie," I would reply quickly.  The teacher would make a note and I'd be called Dottie from then on.

My peers would pounce on my given name.  If there is a joke out there about "The Wizard of Oz" that I haven't heard, I would be surprised.  At times, my peers would also pounce on my nickname.  Dottie became "Dottie-Potty."  No need to tell you how that resonated in my soul.

Different times in my life I thought I might be able to break from the identity I associated with my childhood.  Surely adults wouldn't jump to the yellow-brick-road jokes?

When my husband and I moved with two young kiddos I grasped that time to embrace my grown up self, or at least what I perceived my grown up self to be.  The vast majority of my adult friends and people I've come in contact with call me "Dorothy."  It was lovely...for a time. Until my name worlds crashed.

When we had gatherings at our home, half the people would be calling me "Dottie" and half would be calling me "Dorothy."  Initially, the yellow-brick-road crowd would turn their heads.  "What are people calling you?" and "Why don't we call you that?"

Why, indeed.

Joining Facebook was another name clash.  Some people who knew me as "Dottie" and whom I hadn't seen in a while called me "Dorothy," which just didn't feel right.

Recently I went to a mini-reunion from my elementary school.  Everyone there was calling me "Dot" or "Dottie."   How did that feel?  Honestly, it felt wonderful.  When I drove back to our humble abode after an evening of being called "Dottie" I felt like I was coming home in more ways than one.

Since then I've found myself reflecting... Who am I?  WHO am I?  Who AM I?  Maybe I should sing it like Jean Valjean?  WHO AM I?  Maybe then I'll know?

Or maybe I should keep my singing to my own house and car?  Yes.  I think you may thank me for that.

What I can say is that since the reunion night I have felt a special fondness once again for my childhood nickname - Dottie.  Maybe now I can relate to this name in a new way realizing that who I was as a child is more in line with who I am now as an adult.  There is something about that knowledge which is very comforting and warm.  I like who I was as a child.  I like the trust and the unquestioning love and the innocence that I had.  I realize that I still look at the world through much of the same lens that I did as a little one, and I am extremely grateful for not having become jaded by life - at least not too jaded.

Who am I?  I am a combination of all these names and all they represent.  Together, they are who I am.  I am "Dor" - to a select few, and you few know who you are and I love you.  I am "Dot."  I am "Dorothy."  I am "Dottie."  I can say that last one again with joy and peace in my heart.  I am "Dottie."  I like it.  It feels like home again.

Second Time Around

They said it would be easier the second time around...

I remember when I had my second child I was told it would be easier.  And it was.  I was more comfortable as a parent.  I felt more confident with my decisions. Becoming a mom with my daughter was a delight and a blessing.  I soaked up the moments and was grateful to discover that this - THIS - was what God had in store for me.  Yet with the second time around, when I had my son, there was an ease not there before.  What a gift.

And time went by...

They said it would be easier the second time around...

When it was getting close to D's senior year people told me it would be easier.  And they were wrong.  Well, they were mostly wrong.  They said it would be easier since I'd been through it already with T.  And it was easier in that I knew what to expect and what to prep for his graduation and heading off to college.  However, emotionally it wasn't any easier at all.

My only son graduated in June.  It was a happy time.  And yet I felt that tug at my heart.  I sat down to try and write what I felt, but I couldn't.  

My only son went away for the first year of his college career in August.  It was a happy time.  And yet I felt that tug at my heart.  And the tears flowed.  I sat down to try and write what I felt, but I couldn't.

My only son turned 18 in September.  It was a happy time - a wonderful milestone.  And yet I felt that tug at my heart.  I sat down to try and write what I felt, but I couldn't.

He called me yesterday to talk about his college major.  When I hung up the phone, I reflected on this last year with him.  I've observed him mature and grow and really start to settle in and discover who he is. I look at him and see a young man, no longer a child, thinking things through, making responsible choices, and having fun.  I'm looking forward to watching him continue to spread his wings and I pray that he makes far more right decisions than wrong ones as he moves along the path in front of him.

Yet there is still that tugging at my heart. That sense of loss as I see him gaining so much independence.  I know that is how it is supposed to be.  And, although this is my second time around this block, it doesn't make it any easier. 

Sometimes the second time around is easier and sometimes it is the same and sometimes, I daresay, it may be more difficult.  Yet the second time around is always a blessing and gift.  My role as a momma is changing and I feel that more than ever this second time around sending a child off to college.  However, there is great peace in reflecting back on where I have been and great hope in what is in store for me. And this second child of mine, who fills my heart with such joy and love, makes seconds something I wouldn't miss for anything.

  

Family Dynamics

Family dynamics.  Bitter and sweet.  Alike and different.  Weak and strong.  Take and give.  Rainy and sunny.  Noisy and quiet.  Nasty and nice.  Laughter and tears.  Family dynamics.  

Every family has its own unique dynamic.  Yet we can look at a family and see their dynamic at work.  What they say.  What they do.  How they interact.  How they joke.  They know how to lift each other up.  And how they can cut each other to the quick.

Learning to love your adult family when your relationships have not turned out how you hoped they would when you were growing up is a challenge.  Some days I come out on the top of that challenge and other days that challenge crushes me and brings me to my knees.

Generally, I try to see the good, remember the good, embrace the good in my siblings.  Actually, I think I try to do that in my life overall.  However, there are days when the nastiness comes forth and what I want to do is just close myself away from some of these people.  These people who are supposed to love me.  These people who are my family.  These people who have, at times, nourished my heart and have then scarred it.

Every once in a while a day comes along, something is said or repeated, and old hurts that I thought I'd left behind are stirred up.  When there is a fresh hurt, things that have been long forgotten get blown to the forefront of my mind.  And that is where I find myself today.  I'm in the middle of the sandstorm and am trying to pray myself through it and regain peace in my heart.

Today I feel battered and bruised, weak and alone.  Today I am mourning for the adult life I had envisioned with my siblings that has not developed.  During these times in my life when I'm feeling isolated from those God placed so closely to me, I am reminded of the one who never fails me, never leaves me.

We are brought to our knees in sadness many times in our lives.  Whatever the reason that has brought us there, if we just put our hurts, our pain, our desperation at His feet, He will help us through.  Today I am on my knees with a broken heart and God is whispering, "Look up, my child.  Look up to Me.  Let go.  Let go of the disappointment.  Let the painful memories settle far from your mind.  Let go and look to Me.  I know you.  I love you. Let go.  Let go so that your hands and mind and heart are open to receive what I have in store for you.  Let go and reach for Me."

And, because of this, there is hope in my heart.  

Walk With Me...

Now is the time of year when I see many fund raising walks for cures of diseases that have effected people I love - family and friends, and loved ones of family and friends. I want to see cures for these things that wreak havoc on so many.

These fundraising walks can be empowering for survivors, beautiful celebrations for families who have lost someone, and inspiration and support for those thick in the battle themselves.  Come together.  Walk together.  Lift each other up. Cry together.  Laugh together.  Celebrate your journey and the journeys of so many others.

Years ago I was asked to sponsor a breast cancer survivor as she embarked on a 3-day walk commemorating the battle she fought and won.  I cried with her diagnosis and cheered with her victory.  I happily donated for her walk and listened with joy as she shared her experience with me upon her return.

Shortly after that it was brought to my attention that Susan G. Komen gave grants to Planned Parenthood.  How disappointing to me that an organization fighting to find a cure for cancer would give money to benefit an organization that takes life.  As a Catholic, I could no longer give money to an organization that is attached to a business that kills.

After that, I did more research and found that many organizations doing research looking for cures to debilitating and life-threatening diseases do research with embryonic stem cells.  Because of my beliefs, I cannot donate to these places.

Friends would post that they were walking for breast cancer, muscular dystrophy, ovarian cancer, etc., etc. and I would check out the sites hoping and praying that I could help them.  They had suffered.  They had struggled.  They watched loved ones battle. They were searching for a cure and I want to see cures found!  However, I have yet to find a fundraising walk that I can donate to that does not do research in part with embryonic stem cells or give grants to an organization that performs abortion after abortion.

A family member battled and conquered breast cancer. What a joyous celebration!  She fought a difficult and most challenging opponent and she came out on top!  And then she asked me to join her team and walk with her.  How wonderful it would be to be able to take her hand and walk with her - physically be there with her and so many others who were touched in some way by this disease.  It was a heart wrenching decision, but I had to tell her no. And our relationship suffered a deep rift that has only slowly healed, although is still scarred today.

I am so proud of those who I know personally, and those who I don't know at all for that matter, who have fought diseases with grace, strength, and perseverance.  Some have lost the battle, although they have been brave and inspiring.  Others are at the beginning of the battle, just getting their footing.  There are warriors in the thick of it, suffering losses and victories, and keeping their tenacious focus on what they hope will one day be the final victory. Some have won their battle and are ever-changed from their personal journeys and experiences.  I celebrate these people.  I am in awe of them. Their strength and their courage inspires me, touches my heart, and brings me to tears.
  
However, being Catholic I cannot in good conscience donate to or participate in something that does research which also goes against my beliefs about life. It is challenging finding organizations that do not work with embryonic stem cells in their research or themselves give grant money to abortion facilities, but it can be done.  If the time comes when research to obliterate a disease in our society doesn't obliterate a life in the process, it will be a time to rejoice.  That will be a time when I, with great exuberance, will take your hand and walk with you.

"If, then, you are looking for the way by which you should go, take Christ, because He Himself is the way."  St. Thomas Aquinas 

Who Knew At This Moment

I don't claim to be a poet or a writer, but I do like to put pen to paper (or fingertips to keyboard) from time to time.  Today I celebrate the beautiful day 22 years ago when I became a wife. Here is my reflection on our life together so far...

He walked across the room

And my heart began to pound
Who knew at that moment
He would always be around

Then when we were dating

He leaned in for a kiss
Who knew at that moment
That life was such pure bliss

He took my hand at dinner
And slid on it a ring
Who knew at that moment
How sweet a heart can sing


Then when we were married
Our life as “one” began
Who knew at that moment
That life could be so grand

Then we had a baby girl

A blessing from above
Who knew at that moment
A heart could hold such love

A boy came not too far along

And then another girl
Who knew at that moment
These kids would be our world

These moments turned to hours

Then days, then weeks, then years
Who knew all these moments
Would make a masterpiece

 

 

 

"Therefore what God has joined together, let no one separate.”  Mark 10:9