Speak to Me Sunday: Spiritual Promptings

On this rainy morning, the third Sunday of Advent, I made a New Year’s Resolution. And it stemmed from a chance encounter in the Christmas aisle in Target.

Last week I took a deep breath and went to Target around lunchtime. Not the best time during this time of year. As I wandered the Christmas aisles, several times I crossed paths with a mother with two toddlers in a shopping cart. The mother looked harried while the toddlers behaved just how you would imagine toddlers would act at lunchtime: they were loud, whiney, and periodically threw things out of the shopping cart. The mother picked things up from the ground, told them to stop, and gave them a fruit snack, all while trying to shop. The whining and pushing worsened.

At one point I heard her whisper fiercely to her children that they’d better sit their “asses down” or else.

Listening from one aisle over, I was equal parts horrified (the cursing) and bemused (I remember those days), but quickly settled more on horrified. Who uses that language with such young children?  I mean, how horrible! The drama from the shopping cart escalated. I saw an elderly lady roll her eyes, and another customer grew exasperated as she maneuvered her cart around the chaos.

It was at this moment I realized how the problem was not with the young mother and her children, but with how Grinch-like the rest of us were behaving—judging, assuming and, yes, mom-shaming.

I then felt a spiritual prompting. I remembered the $5 Starbucks gift card in my wallet, and this is what I thought I should do: find the woman, commiserate how we have all had “those days” with our children and that things do get better. I could tell her how my two older boys once got into a scuffle at the checkout lane. I could say, “Here, from one mom to another, have a cup of coffee on me.”

That was what I felt prompted to do, but by nature I am not an impulsive person. I live in my head. Sometimes too much. By the time I acted on the spiritual prompting, the woman and her children had disappeared. I wandered around the store looking for them, but they were gone.

I had missed an opportunity to change the course of someone’s day.

Several times this week I sat down to write about this episode but was not sure what I wanted to say. Don’t judge, maybe. Offer some grace, perhaps.

Then, as I reread my clumsy attempts to put the episode into words, I recognized the heart of the story: spiritual promptings are a call to do something more, something bigger than we may be comfortable doing which, for me, means recognizing when to get out of my head. And out of my comfort zone. After all, a spiritual prompt is more than a thought. It is a gentle nudge to spur us into action with the knowledge that God does not call the trained, he trains the called.

And this is why, on a rainy third Sunday of Advent, I made a New Year’s resolution.

When Opposites Complete One Another

 In many ways, we are completely opposite.

Joe is all about math, numbers, and facts.

I am all about literature, art, and imagination.

 

Joe, who thinks procrastination is a Cardinal Sin, always does things yesterday.

I think procrastination is a helpful tool to get things done just in time.

Joe does not drink coffee.

I think not drinking coffee is a Cardinal Sin. 

 

Joe is super organized.

I am somewhat, haphazardly organized.

 

Joe thinks just enough is plenty.

I always think just enough needs more.   

 

Joe reads two books a year.

I read two books a week.

 

So, yes, we are opposite in many ways, but in all the ways that matter we are not: faith, family,

 parenthood. And standing on those foundations, not only do we respect and celebrate each other’s

 oppositeness, but embrace it as a way to share our two worlds with one another. To grow individually

 and as a couple. So, I go to football games with Joe, he walks through art museums with me; I watch a

 documentary on WWII, he sits through a Hallmark Christmas movie; he puts up 500 lights on the

 Christmas tree, I add 200 more.

It is said opposites attract, but maybe it is more that opposites complete one another. Like pieces of a

 puzzle that make a whole.

And what a wonderful thing.

 

Happy Anniversary, Joey!

O Captain! My Captain!

Teaching in an inner-city high school was my first job out of college, and I was bursting with unbridled enthusiasm as I planned lessons on British literature that would set my students' world on fire. I wanted to be like Robin Williams' movie character in Dead Poets Society where life lessons are found between the pages of a book, nestled in a poem, or acted from a play. Except it did not quite happen that way, and my O Captain! My Captain! moment was more along the lines of students asking, "Why do we even have to read this crap?" 

But after that year of being baptized in a monsoon of reality, a year in which I learned more than I taught, I recognized the fundamental truth about the vocations of teacher and student. Namely, they are one and the same.  

During a lifetime one may take on any number of roles, but when it is all said and done there are but two roles of which we all play a part: that of student and teacher. At any given moment we are either a Student of Life or a Teacher of Life. One moment a student, the next a teacher. Or a teacher today, and a student tomorrow. From minute to minute, day to day. Year to year.

It is an awareness of these roles which give depth and meaning to our lives. Sometimes we bravely say I know and then with generosity step forward to say let me teach you; sometimes we vulnerably acknowledge I do not know and with humbleness say teach me. 

This is what makes the world function. We learn, then teach. We learn something new and then go out and teach that one thing. And we must be both. To be solely a teacher means you never learn anything new; to be forever a student means that knowledge is simply collected. 

Last week I came across a photo of our son, Jonathan, flipping through a deck of Pokémon cards and teaching his baby brother, Timothy, the names of all the Pokémon characters: This is Pikachu who evolves into Raichu. This guy is Snorlax and he has a big belly. As Jonathan introduced his brother to the fantastical world of Pokémon, Timothy smiled and wiggled and was thoroughly entertained. 

Then, later that evening (and almost 17 years from the photo mentioned above), we watched our son Timothy as he showed a novice altar server what to do during Mass. Once Upon a Time, Timothy's older brothers had walked him through this role, so now it was his turn to do the same.

And so it goes.  

We are born to be students. We are born to be teachers. It is not a choice, but vocations to which we are all called. 

Upon thinking back to my first year of teaching, I remembered a box of battered paperback copies of Arthur Miller's play, The Crucible. The box had been stuffed into the corner of the teacher's lounge and destined for the trash can. But I had a feeling that those ragged, tattered paperbacks would reach my students. Every day I lugged that box to the classroom so we could read the play aloud, and I watched my students come alive. There is no other way to describe the transformation. No longer did they loiter in the hallway until the bell rang for class to begin; instead, they rushed in excited to see what happens next. For the first time, they interacted with each other, offered comments, asked questions, and stayed after class to talk with me. Together, we were students teaching one another in the classroom of life.  

So maybe, perhaps, I had my O Captain! My Captain! moment after all. 

First Sunday of Advent: Where is Baby Jesus?

One of my favorite Christmas carols is "People Look East" because it calls forth images of hearth and home and Christmas anticipation. This afternoon, as I unpacked a Fontanini nativity while listening to the carol, I was reminded how the repeated theme of looking ahead, of seeking and preparing, is such an integral part of an Italian presepio, or nativity scene.

A traditional presepio in Italy includes so much more than the figures of Joseph, Mary, and the infant Jesus. There is often a water feature, and dramatic lighting mimics the transition from day to night and back again. There are mountains, valleys, caves. Entire villages are constructed, as are farm fields and barns. There are shepherds and villagers and children. It is a busy scene, incredibly elaborate and detailed, so much so that it takes a few minutes to even find the infant Jesus. He is not front and center, as one would expect, but hidden.

The fact he is not immediately spotted is precisely the point.

In the nativity story, everyone is looking: the Wise Men studied the star to guide them, the shepherds looked for the babe in a manger, and even Joseph searched for shelter as one Inn after another closed its doors. And in a presepio, the viewer is invited into the tableau and, like the shepherds and villagers and children, is meant to look for Jesus, to seek him out, to look up and down and around the villages and fields and barns until he is found.

As we journey into Advent, that is the theme we are living: one of seeking, for a presepio does not depict a legendary event from ancient Palestine; instead, it is a mirror of the known world today reminding us to look for Christ in our everyday life. In our homes. At church. Among crowds and the homeless. Even amidst our busyness.

He is hidden in plain sight, waiting for you to find him.

(The following photos were taken last October in Naples, Italy on Via San Gregorio Armeno, known as the Christmas Alley.

This pedestrian street in Naples' historic center is filled with artisan workshops and hundreds of nativity scenes, each one more elaborate than the next. The nativities are busy, meant to reflect everyday life, and as your eyes wander over the scenes the question arises: Where is baby Jesus?)

Story Times

I love this time of year. With cooler temperatures and shorter days we hunker down, gathering at the table or around the fire. Listen carefully, for 'tis the season of stories, and I have a true one to share...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In 2014 I interviewed a man from Ohio who told the most incredible story about his uncle, a tail gunner on a B17 bomber during WWII.

During one of their missions, the plane was shot down over Germany and his uncle was taken prisoner. One day a German soldier was ordered to take his uncle in the woods and shoot him; instead, the soldier secretly released his uncle. This single act so influenced the uncle that he became a Catholic priest.

Incredibly, after the war the uncle located the German soldier who then flew to the U.S. to attend his uncle's ordination. The man I interviewed was an altar server during his Uncle's ordination and met the German soldier.

The uncle told this story to his nephew, who told it to me, which is now shared with you. Listen to the stories. They are gifts.

A Girlie Football Saturday

Yesterday it was a cold and rainy Saturday, so we lit a fire in the fireplace and hunkered down to watch football. 

Let me clarify: Joe watched football and I kinda sorta watched football because me watching a game also involves reading, writing, cooking, or working on my blog. 

But yesterday, sitting on the couch before a roaring fire, I was feeling crafty so I went online and visited Tricia Robinson, the "painter of happy, believer in whimsy" who "sees God's smile in the everyday". Earlier in the week I saw that Tricia was offering a free craft project to make Verse Dresses, so I downloaded her free printables and spent a rainy Saturday afternoon making a verse dress for every day of the week.  

What will I do with them? Nothing. But it felt so good to be creative. To be immersed in color. Markers, colored pencils, or crayons? I used all of them! I challenged myself to think outside the box: I cut off the ponytail and repositioned it, even using TWO of them for pigtails; I cut off the sleeves to change the dress; I experimented with layering; I colored the legs to make tights. When I was finished, I made a video. 

And that was how I spent a cold and rainy football Saturday. 

Now, a Wedding

Three years ago, we helped Jonathan move into his new apartment in Atlanta. It was in the middle of a pandemic, and it had been an unusual spring: Jonathan's graduation was a virtual one, and he marched across the living room dressed in his cap and gown when his name was broadcast on the television screen; he signed a lease for an apartment he only toured virtually; and when we helped him move to Atlanta in May, the streets were mostly empty due to everyone working from home.

That day, as we unloaded the Penske truck at his apartment complex, I knew the time to say goodbye was quickly approaching. And I dreaded it. The world seemed so unsettled, and Jonathan would be facing it alone, in a new city, with a new job, in a new apartment. Nothing seemed safe, or certain, or easy.

But Time does not stop. It marches on, and we are forever perched between Yesterday and Tomorrow as we face the Now. There is vulnerability in the Now. Sometimes Now involves tears, stormy weather, and goodbye, while other times Now brings with it laughter, and sunshine, and hello.

I remember very clearly what it felt like to leave Jonathan in Atlanta, and I see now what a blessing these past three years have been. All those things that were scary, turned out to be wonderful: a new apartment! a new city to explore! a new job with benefits! new friends, acquaintances, coworkers! and a charming, smart, delightful fiancée, Caroline. 

As I type these words, Joe is packing up the van with suitcases, garment bags, and dress shoes. I have packed more for one weekend in Atlanta than I did for a two week trip to Italy. We will stop in Athens to pick up Timothy before continuing our journey to Atlanta where we will gather with family and friends. 

Because sometimes Now involves a wedding. And we will celebrate.

Happy Tears

With one week to go until the wedding, yesterday Caroline sent me the schedule of events which included the procession order for the ceremony. When I got to "Jonathan and Monsignor Frank enter from the side door" I was smiling through the tears.

Happy tears.

The best kind.

I love ...

I love color kaleidoscopes 

on Sicilian mermaids, 

espresso saucers, 

garden planters, 

and floating rowboats.

Let me tell you what I want, what I really really want

Today is my dad's 81st birthday, and in honor of the occasion I am sharing the following conversation from a few years ago. Try to follow along and not get dizzy.

Me: Dad, what do you want for your birthday?

Nonno: I don't know. I really don't need anything.

Nonna: I know what he wants. He wants a wind chime.

Nonno: I want a wind chime?

Nonna: Yes, don't you remember when we went to our friends' house and they had a wind chime? It sounded so beautiful.

Nonno turns and looks at me.

Nonno: I guess I want a wind chime.

I look at him. I look at my Mom. And I keep my mouth shut. Later that evening I get a phone call.

Nonno: I've been thinking. I really would like a wind chime.

So Nonno received a wind chime. For his birthday. For Nonna. Or something. 

This reminded me of the time we were in Naples, Italy when one of the boys asked where Vesuvius was and, like an Abbot and Costello routine, my parents point in OPPOSITE directions. It was so funny that our boys got in on it too, pointing here, there, and everywhere.

My Piano Man

Happy birthday to my piano man, Dad’s sports buddy, and (since you’re in the middle) the best younger AND older brother. Two years ago you stood by Nicholas on his wedding day, and in two weeks he will do the same for you. Happy birthday Jono!

A Call to Prayer in the Garden of Answered Prayer

Today, Pope Francis is calling for prayers to counter "the diabolical force of hate, terrorism and war" and urging believers around the world to join Catholics in the Holy Land for a day of fasting and prayer for peace.

Peace. Oh, how we need it. But this morning, as I spent time in quiet reflection on ways to answer this call to prayer, I was also wondering if it will make a difference; after all, the problem is so vast and complex and ongoing that the good intention of a prayer seems like a grain of sand in comparison to the desert before us.

And then I was reminded of quote from the musical, Hamilton: “A legacy is planting seeds in a garden you don’t get to see.” While this quote refers to the legacy Alexander Hamilton wanted to leave our young country, I realized that replacing the word ‘legacy’ with ‘prayer’ is a way to see how every prayer is a seed, planted with faith and watered with hope as we wait to see what it grows into.

There are many answers to prayer—yes, no, yes (but in a different way), no (because it isn’t what you need), maybe (but you have to be patient), not now (there will be a better time)—just as there are also many ways for that seed to develop. It can blossom the way you envisioned, or bloom into something entirely different, or take root in ways you never thought possible. The key is remembering that the seed always turns into something.

There is so much we don’t understand about prayer, but if we acknowledge that God’s ways are not our ways, that his ways are more imaginative and always perfect, then we also need to remember there is no such thing as unanswered prayer. We must surrender to this truth no matter what. 

So we pray. Alone, with our families, in brotherhood with the world.

We may not always see the fruits of our prayer seeds, but the garden is still there.

Two Years

Happy anniversary, Nicholas & Lauren! I have always loved this photo from your wedding day: you are both smiling and headed together into the future, at your back are family and friends who will always be there to support you, and Nicholas is holding Lauren’s bouquet—because that’s amore!

Video: Arrivederci Jane

Video: An Evening in Palermo

 

VIDEO HIGHLIGHT: 2022 GIRLS' TRIP TO ITALY (NAPLES AND THE SPLENDORS OF SICILY

Part III: Rome (Day 12)

This is our last full day in Italy. Part III: Rome (Day 12) was an unexpected gift, and the perfect ending to our adventure.

There have been questions about another trip, and the answer is yes. And I’ll leave it there.

Day 12: Rome (Oct. 16)

Due to a cancelled flight (a little hiccup in our itinerary) we had the miraculous opportunity to spend a Sunday afternoon and night in Rome before our scheduled Monday flight to Atlanta. Rome had not been part of our itinerary, and yet … after a short flight from Catania there we were. Sometimes the unplanned and unexpected moments are the ones that stand out. What a way to end our adventure.

Once in Rome, we hit the ground running. After checking into our hotel, we tossed our bags in the room, hopped into a taxi, and within an hour of landing in Rome we were standing in St. Peter’s Square.

Which always brings me to tears. Always.

We explored. We shopped. We ate a panino sitting on the curb along Via della Conciliazione, our view the embracing arms of Bernini’s columns.

Afterwards, we walked to Piazza Navona, visited the Church of Sant’Agnese in Agone, walked to the Pantheon, and then walked back to Piazza Navona for dinner at Tre Scaline. There is something timeless about an outdoor table, there on the edge of the piazza, with the setting sun and the rising moon signaling the streetlights and street performers. There was music in the air.

After dinner we walked to la Fontana Trevi where we threw a coin over our right shoulder into the fountain. This, we were told by Jane, was the correct way to toss a coin, but only ONE of us (Rose Ann) did it the right way. Evidently too much wine and the other three did not know right from left. Once they realized their error, the three tossed yet ANOTHER coin into the fountain to undo their bad toss. All was right with the world.  

A coin tossed into the Trevi Fountain means that you will one day return to Rome and it was the most perfect, symbolic way to end our trip.

Then, because we walked well over 20,000 steps, we took a taxi back to the hotel and met some fellow travelers on the hotel rooftop for one last Aperol Spritz.

Arriverderci Roma!

We are in Rome!

A beautiful afternoon in Rome.

With a sister and a sister-in-law.

St. Peter

St. Peter's Square

A Tale of Two Sisters in Rome

top: 2015 (first girls' trip to Italy)

bottom: 2023 (third girls' trip to Italy)

Vatican Guard

St. Michael the Archangel

One of the many statues in Rome.

Castel Sant'Angelo

Streets of Rome

Tiber River

Piazza Navona

Every time I am in Rome I take a photo of this fresco.

Pantheon at Night

la Fontana Trevi

Three are doing it wrong; one is doing it right.

Rome in an afternoon. Whew!

Part II: Sicily (Taormina, day 11)

As we approach the one-year anniversary of our 2022 Girls’ Trip to Italy, this week La Dolce Vita Travels will publish a series of posts recapping our trip last October. I do this for several reasons: as a means of transcribing my travel journal, to provide fellow travelers with names of restaurants/hotels for their own travel journals, and to plant seeds of interest for our next trip (and there will be another one). 

This is an overall recap of the official itinerary. There were pockets of free time almost daily, and while I share what my sister and I did during these times, the truth is everyone will have a different story. Some were shoppers, some were explores, and some were diners … there was something for everyone.

The series will be three parts—Part I: Naples (Days 1-4), Part II: Sicily (Days 5-11), Part III: Rome (Day 12). Our time in Naples was the most intense; after all, it is an intense city and we packed a lot into our itinerary. This meant we did the heavy touring the first few days of our trip, then enjoyed the slower pace of Sicily on the back end.

Day 11: Taormina (Oct. 15)

Today is the day we add a city to our itinerary. But more on that later…

Breakfast this morning overlooked the Mediterranean Sea. I decided to celebrate with a delicious brioche—a Mt. Etna-sized brioche that paired most excellently with my cappuccino. Life is grand. (Speaking of Mt. Etna, which we could see off in the distance. Those weren’t clouds, but puffs of smoke. Etna is still considered an active volcano and the smoke is the reason it is known as “the grumbling giant” nickname.")

A short bus ride along the coast took us to the historic center of Taormina, which is known as the “pearl of the Mediterranean.” We walked up the main road to the Greco-Roman amphitheater which offered the most breathtaking views of the Bay of Naxos. All we needed was Luciano Pavarotti or Andrea Bocelli to walk out on the stage.

Because this was going to be our last day in Taormina (more on that later) we were given two hours to meander through the narrow streets and do some last-minute shopping. And shop we did. Taormina is so picturesque, so quaint, so lovely. After many days of group travel, I enjoyed wandering alone, taking photos, stopping at a bar for an espresso, and a little later for a small granita. At one point I entered an antique bookshop looking for an anniversary gift for Nicholas and Lauren. Since gifts for a first anniversary are traditionally paper, I purchased two lithographs that were from rare books (the owner even made a photocopy of my passport to maintain provenance for his records). It was exciting handling old papers and books.  

When we reconvened at the main plaza, we were given an offer we couldn’t refuse: a Godfather tour of the towns that served as location for the film. We drove to Savoca (incidentally, our bus driver today was named Vito, as in Vito Corleone). Just like the wedding procession in the movie, we climbed to the church of Santa Lucia where Michael Corleone married Apollonia. We also visited Bar Vitelli where Michael asked Apollonia’s father for her hand in marriage. Inside, the bar was filled with movie memorabilia, such as the same table and chairs that were used in the movie. 

Finally, a tale of travel woes. If you remember, I was missing from last night’s dinner due to the fact that ITA Airways canceled our Monday morning flight (Catania-Rome) which meant we would miss our connecting afternoon flight (Rome-Atlanta).  At one point, Jane and I were on three separate phones talking to ITA, the tour company, and Jane’s connections at Central Holidays. We went to bed with things still undecided, but overnight the tour company worked magic and by morning we were booked on a Catania-Rome flight for tomorrow (Sunday) so we could make our connection on Monday. They arranged transportation and lodging for our overnight stay in Rome (at no extra cost for us).

While we are sad to leave Taormina one day early, the good news was an afternoon and night in Rome before our Monday flight to Atlanta—an unexpected bonus, especially for those in our group who have never been to the Eternal City.  

When life gives you lemons, make limoncello!

P.S. Jane was able to change the date of our Farewell Dinner to tonight, our last night in Sicily. It was such a wonderful dinner with speeches, gifts for Jane, and Jane’s announcement that she would be retiring. We were her last tour group. Did we influence her decision? See video below. 

Farewell Dinner last night in Sicily (Taormina)