Texts from Texas

My husband has to travel for work, usually to Kansas City (MO), Oakland (CA), or Albuquerque (NM). This week, however, he's in Amarillo (TX) and we've been enjoying his texts ...

"Landed in Dallas and waiting for my flight to Amarillo. It's a good thing I wore my corduroy blazer and jeans. I totally fit in. Except I need a big belt buckle."

"Dallas Airport ... for bored people. Show Timothy. A gaming center." (To which Timothy texted back: "I love Dallas.")

"Landed in Amarillo. My rental car is a pickup truck."

"Lunch at Tyler's Barbeque. I'm eating big today since tomorrow is Ash Wednesday."

"They don't mess around in Texas."

A Conversation with My Son that Totally Makes Sense

On the way home from school, I learn something about my son.

"You're probably going to be surprised about this, but I think Dr. Zhivago is one of my favorite movies," Timothy announces.

And then, all the way home we talk about the movie. We discuss the themes of class, war, love, power, fate, and betrayal. When Timothy asks if I thought Dr. Zhivago was a bad person, we discuss how good people can have tragic flaws or weaknesses. We talk for a long time on that point. Then he points out how Tanya, Dr. Zhivago's wife, is the only purely innocent person.

When we are almost home there is a sudden, dramatic shift in the conversation which takes us from Dr. Zhivago and Lara to this ...

"What does a fish say when it hits a wall?" Timothy asks.

"Damn."

That folks, is what a conversation looks like in our family. Just when you think it is headed in one direction, it takes a sharp turn. And there's no telling where it will take you.

The Freedom of Lent

We all know the story of the Prodigal Son. Traditionally, the father in the parable represents our heavenly father, the older son represents the Pharisees who live the letter of the law but not the love of the law, the wayward son represents all sinners.

However, the beauty of a parable is that it can have many layers which speak to us at different times in our lives and even during different liturgical seasons of the Church.

Which is why the Parable of the Prodigal Son is also a story about Lent and what happens when we misuse one of God’s most beautiful gifts ... the gift of free will.

What does free will have to do with Lent when it seems to be about what not to eat, or what not to watch, or when to go to church, or what to sacrifice? There seems to be nothing free about it at all.

But the wonderful thing about these next 40 days is that each and every day serves to remind us to appreciate the free will that is God’s gift to us; that we have the power and self-discipline to live as free people.

The key is to devote that freedom to God.

And in the Parable of the Prodigal Son, both sons show what happens when we misuse our God-given free will.

In the case of the younger son, he desired independence from his father -- both his earthly and his heavenly father -- and wanted to be in charge of his own life. He mistakenly thought that freedom could be found in the opportunity to do what he wanted; he didn't realize that freedom comes not from the opportunity to choose, but from choosing the right thing. Instead of finding freedom, he became enslaved to his own selfish desires.

On the other hand, the older son shows us a different kind of misuse of free will.

Lent isn’t meant to be oppressive, or weigh us down, or enslave us; if we let it do that, then we are like the older son who merely goes through the motions of doing the right thing. His misuse of free will is that he does it out of obligation ... it wears him down ... and there is no freedom in that. He doesn’t freely choose to do the right thing, he does it because he has to.

God created us in His image, and He loved us so much that he let us go ... and just like the father in the parable who lets his youngest son go only to eventually have him return home, God releases us because he wants us to freely choose him instead of being forced to choose him.

Wisdom teaches us that unless we are free to say no to something, we are not free to say yes to it. During Lent we are reminded that our free will of saying “yes” and “no” is a gift from a loving parent.

And that is what Lent is: a time to say “no” for a while so that we can fully appreciate it when we say “yes”.

Saint John Paul II said, “Freedom consists not in doing what we like, but in having the right (or the free will) to do what we ought.”

And that’s what the Lenten journey is ... to choose God in everything and experience that freedom he so desires us to have.

Lenten Pauses

Like New Year's Resolutions, Lenten goals can be hit or miss for me.

Every year I start thinking about Lent on Ash Wednesday, then I waste a few days trying to figure out what I will or won't do, then I order a Lenten reflection, and then before I even realize it Lent is already halfway over.

Okay, I exaggerate. But only a little.

So this year I decided to plan ahead and order a book of Lenten reflections.  I didn't necessarily need a journal since I do that anyway through this blog (and my Speak to Me Sunday series), but I knew I wanted something simple, introspective, and meaningful.

Something that would help me pause and listen to the quiet of Lent.

I've written before how I think the concept of the caesura--a dramatic pause in a line of poetry or music often used to introduce, or highlight, something that is to follow--can be applied to our daily life. It's an effective tool that tells us to stop. Right now, whatever it is we are doing, and breathe, listen, think, dream, pray.

For it is these moments that tell us more about life than all the running around we do to live it. 

So in my search for a Lenten reflection, imagine how I felt when I discovered this from Upper Room Books: Pauses for Lent (40 Words for 40 Days). In this simple book, the reader is introduced to a single word every day during the season of Lent. Each daily reading begins with a word (still, Abba, way, serve, see, light, love, prune) followed by a brief meditation and a simple suggestion on how to live the word.

The book arrived today, and I'm excited to build in the pause ...

and come to the quiet of Lent.

Fisticuffs: a mano-a-mano brawl (sometimes over gelato)

[Tomorrow is my turn to host Sunday Dinner, and in preparing a menu I came across this gem when the boys fought--not for my honor--but for my homemade gelato.]

Let’s face it, boys don’t gush. If they don’t like something, they’ll tell you. If they do like something, they’ll tell you. But exaggerated enthusiasm or effusiveness? That’s just not their style.

Case in point, this past weekend I made homemade gelato and served it after Sunday’s lunch with i Nonni.  

“So, what do you think? Isn’t it good?” I inquired, shamelessly reaching for compliments.

Nonna jumped right in.

“Oh this is so good!” she gushed. “Really, it’s delicious. What ingredients did you use? Truly, the best homemade gelato I have ever tasted. In fact, let me have a little more.”

Then I turned to the boys and repeated the question.

“It’s good.” they replied.

Note. There wasn’t even an exclamation mark.

So how do I know they really liked the gelato? Later that evening one son announced he was going to have some ice cream, to which the other son responded there better be some left for him, to which Joe piped in from the family room that he didn’t care what the other two did just as long as there was a scoop left for him … just a scoop, but it better be a decent sized one.

The argument went back and forth, stopping just short of fisticuffs.

See? Fisticuffs. Over my homemade gelato. That’s how I know.

They liked it! 

(Note the exclamation mark.)

The Russian Revolution told as a Soap Opera

On the way home from school Timothy announces they were watching the movie Dr. Zhivago in class. Now, Joe and I happen to really like that movie; during the early years of our marriage we watched it every winter. We'd pick an especially cold weekend night, one in which there was snow or, at least the threat of snow, and sitting before a cracking fire we'd watch the movie.

But Timothy doesn't know this so he proceeds to catch me up to speed.

"The movie starts just before the Russian Revolution, but right now there is this older guy named Victor who has a mistress, but then he seduces Lara who is the mistress' daughter. How messed up is that? Then there is Pasha, who is a revolutionary, and Yuri--that's Dr. Zhivago, by the way--marries his cousin, Tanya. But that Victor, he's a weasel," Timothy explains.

It makes me laugh how he manages to make Boris Pasternak's classic novel (which was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature) sound like a daytime soap opera.

"It gets better," I assure him. "You must be getting ready to read something about the Russian Revolution."

"Yup," he says. "We are going to start Animal Farm next week."

I mention that George Orwell's book, Animal Farm, reflects the events leading up to the Russian Revolution and that the author was a critic of Joseph Stalin. But then, knowing Timothy, I laugh again.

"Oh, you're going to hate that novel," I said. "It's an allegory, so you are going to have to do a lot of interpretation and reading between the lines."

"Oh my gosh!" Timothy grumbles. "Why can't we read a nonfiction book? Why can't they just tell the story in a normal way?"

Sigh. I'm working on him. I'm just glad he reads, even if his material of choice includes facts, science, charts, and what he calls "real stuff." Right now on his nightstand is a THICK book entitled, World Heritage Sites, and every night he reads about Unesco sites such as the mausoleum of the first Qin Emperor in China, the Gondwana Rainforests of Australia, or the Abbey of St. Gall in Switzerland.

When we get home, he's still complaining. But then two things happen:

1/ I show him a Washington Post article about how the CIA used the book, Dr. Zhivago, as a tool during the Cold War to undermine the Soviet Union, and

2/ Timothy's monthly National Geographic arrives in the mail.

And just like that, all is right with the Literary World.

Speak to Me Sunday: The Power of a Question

"A question holds all the potential of the living universe within it. Questions are far more valuable than answers ... if you continue to seek questions you cannot stray far off the proper road."

Anna and the Swallow Man by Gavriel Savit

I came across this quote last week while listening to Savit's book on audible during an early morning hike along the canal. The words stopped me in my tracks. I pondered the word question, a word with quest as its root. There is power in the asking, for a question propels and spurs and nudges and shoves you on a journey.

And there are many journeys within a quest.

Then I thought of question as a punctuation mark, and how it curves out, up, and around before leading straight to the period which isn't connected, but still part of the whole.

I've asked many questions throughout my life, and standing there on the canal I realized how often the act of seeking an answer became the answer itself; that is, the destination became absorbed into the quest. During those times the search for one, definitive answer allowed me to gather many answers along the way.

Sometimes, the answer may not have been what I was looking for, and sometimes an answer is for a question not yet asked.

Of course, sometimes the answer to a question is there is no answer.

But an unanswered question is, strangely enough, still an answer.

Have patience with everything that remains unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books written in a foreign language. Do not now look for the answers. They cannot now be given to you because you could not live them. It is a question of experiencing everything. At present you need to live the question. Perhaps you will gradually, without even noticing it, find yourself experiencing the answer, some distant day.

RAINER MARIA RILKE, Letters to a Young Poet

The Raindrop Effect

It began as a single raindrop. Which gathered other raindrops to become a thunderstorm.

That single raindrop, which became a thunderstorm, turned into a deluge.

Which caused a roof leak.

Because we had a new roof installed two years ago, U.S. Roofing fixed the roof leak and offered to paint the damaged ceilings and walls in the master bath, bedroom, and family room.

So we took advantage of the situation and decided to change the colors in our master bed and bath. A mini makeover.

Benjamin Moore ... pale oak.

Love, love, love the color.

BUT, with new paint on the walls, the baseboards looked dingy in comparison. So I painted the baseboards in the master bathroom. And in the master bedroom.

Then I eyed the bathroom cabinets ... and painted those too.

Everything is bright. Fresh.

And since we've gone this far ... I'm thinking a reading chair, new area rug, and updated artwork.

So what's happening here?

All because of a single raindrop.

Wicked Weather

So yesterday was my birthday. I had a great day, and how could I not when it coincides with WORLD NUTELLA DAY?

I mean, Happy Birthday to Me!

But my birthday is not over. This afternoon I'm headed to Columbia, SC because my sister arranged the following: paid parking, dinner reservations, and tickets to see Wicked.

Nutella yesterday, a Broadway show today. Life is good.

Of course, to get to Columbia I will have to drive through some major storms: rain (and lots of it), flash flood warnings, and a tornado watch to two.

But I will channel my inner Jim Cantore and get there.

Frizzy hair, rain boots, purple umbrella and all.

It will be wickedly fun.

Six Questions I'd Like to Ask Jennifer Lopez and Shakira

Note: This is my opinion, and if you have a different one ... awesome! Wow! Feel free to write your own post! I won't hold your opinion against you, as I hope you will not begrudge me mine. You know, freedom of expression and healthy discourse ...

-1-

The New York Times and other news agencies have applauded your Super Bowl halftime show as being about woman empowerment. You stated how you wanted to give the message that women are on top of the world. There is no doubt that you are successful, beautiful, and talented. There is no doubt you are a powerful woman. There is no doubt that you can command audiences. But an editorial in the Washington Times also called your show “scandalously sexual” so I’m curious as to why you chose to objectify women in a manner we’ve been fighting against for years?

-2-

According to a report by the Miami-Dade State Attorney’s Office, Florida ranks third nationwide in human trafficking cases and Miami-Dade County is the biggest sex trafficking hub in the state. Then, when you add a sporting event like the Super Bowl to the mix, the number of sex trafficking cases skyrockets. Did you think about this? Were you thinking about woman empowerment as you selected costumes, choreographed dance moves, and strategically catered to camera angles?

-3-

Supporters of your show have mentioned that it was also meant to be an in-your-face commentary to Oscar voters for their mistake in not nominating you in last year’s stripper drama, Hustlers. I find this interesting since words like “stripper” and “stripper’s pole” have been used to describe the halftime performance. Again, how does this not objectify women?

-4-

I understand that the use of rope and girls in cages were meant to convey that women can break free; that it was a political statement against immigration policy when you said, “Other people can try to build walls, keep us out or put is in cages.” But break free to do what? Undulate, twerk, spread their legs, grab their crotch, and put their bodies in a situation of being objectified? Forgive me, but surely you can understand the confusion.

-5-

How did you honestly think your performance would be viewed?  For example, did bar patrons, college students, or football fans across America watch the show and say, “Wow, what a powerful, strong woman.”?  Or, were the majority saying, “Damn, she’s hot.”? Was your intention to get attention for your accomplishments, talents and strengths, or to showcase something else entirely?

-6-

Finally, as a powerful woman in which you called the shots, and being in a position in which you could have taken the show in any direction artistically, why then did you choose to go back to objectifying women in this manner when we have been making strives to overcome this objectification? Would you consider this progress, or regression?

Speak to Me Sunday: Birth Days and Birthdays

As part of my training to become a Court Appointed Special Advocate (CASA), I recently had to observe two courtroom sessions in Juvenile and Family Court. 

I saw and heard a lot, some of it shocking and terribly heart wrenching, but the saddest thing--even among the stories of drug abuse, child abandonment, and foster care placement--was a detention hearing involving a teenager brought before the court on weapons charges. When his case was called there was some confusion because other than a court-appointed attorney, the teen did not have a family member present. The attorney made some phone calls but couldn't reach anyone. Then it was discovered that it was the teen's 17th birthday, and because he was now an adult in the eyes of the court the hearing could go on as scheduled. 

When the teenager was escorted into the courtroom (wearing restraints on his wrists and ankles) he immediately looked to his left to see who was there ... and all he saw was a gallery of empty seats.

Neither his mother nor this father had come. Not a grandmother, an aunt, or an uncle. Not even a friend.

I'll never forget the look on his face. A teenager, just a year older than my son, stood alone on his birthday as the judge remanded him into custody until trial.

Everyone has a birth day, but not everyone has a birthday, and I had a feeling that this teen didn't have a lot of birthday celebrations in his lifetime. I wondered when was the last time he had a birthday cake, or opened a wrapped present, or was showered with love and attention when he turned four, nine, twelve. Or seventeen.

In our training class we watched a video explaining the science of an infant's brain. Unlike the body's other organs which are already developed at birth, an infant's brain is still undeveloped and therefore creates a blueprint for every new experience; in other words, the brain is waiting for experiences to shape it, and the younger the infant, the more sponge-like is the brain (which is why, within just three years, a child learns how to walk and talk). 

But this sponginess is also the same sponginess that makes infants more vulnerable to abuse or domestic violence. So while no one disputes that young children suffer long term effects from chronic exposure to violence, it's actually the infants who are the most impacted; in fact, infants growing up in unstable homes end up with mental health problems at a rate higher than children who are the actual victims or witnesses of abuse. 

Once upon a time that teenager had a birth day. Once upon a time he was a baby. What happened after that? 

As I watched the officer escort the teenager out of the courtroom, I wished for a way to rewind time, to go back 17 years to that teen's birth day. To start over and give him what he needs so that down the road he won't be alone in the world on his 17th birthday facing jail time. I wasn't being naive; he deserved to go to jail, but I couldn't help thinking that things could have turned out differently if, in the beginning, it had gone differently. 

Here's the thing, though. Our brains continue to add new neurons until the day we die. The brain has the capacity to heal. And studies have shown the best way to counteract the early effects of childhood trauma is the number of healthy adults that a child or teen can connect to--teachers, counselors, therapists, social workers, coaches, clergy.

I can be that adult for someone. We all can.

As I'm typing this I am well aware that my birthday is this week. I will get phone calls, texts, Facebook messages, gifts. I will feel the love. But the shadow of that teen will be standing next to me as I blow out my birthday candles, and as the smoke drifts heavenward I will pray for God's grace to allow me to be the difference in someone's life ...