Truth be Told

"...a lie told once is easy to expose, but a lie told a thousand times can look like the truth. 

And destroy the world."

~The Little Liar by Mitch Albom

A few weeks ago,  I downloaded Mitch Albom's book, The Little Liar (our Book Club selection for May). I read ONE chapter, closed my kindle, and went to the bookstore to purchase the actual book. 

Just from that one chapter I knew that it was going to be a profound book, one that would ultimately contain my handwritten notes in the margins of the pages. And that is exactly what happened: my book has been well-read with pages dogeared, passages underlined, and notes scribbled in the margins. 

The book is narrated by the voice of Truth, who tells the story about a boy who lied. It is a beautiful story about how a truth (or a lie) can shape the course of our lives. 

After Book Club ended last night, and thinking about our in-depth discussion, I picked up the book again and took more notes. This book makes you think, especially in light of what is going on in the headlines--political candidates manipulating voters, students protesting, and rising tides of anti-Semitism. What is the truth when someone's truth is different from your truth? Does believing in something make it true?  How do we recognize truth? 

The Greek word for "truth" is aletheia (divine revelation); that is, something which cannot be hidden. And yet, as humans we hide, twist, ignore, or manipulate the truth. We withhold the truth, or tell partial truths, or spin the truth. Or we are silent about the truth. 

There is so much to explore morally, ethically, socially, personally, and globally in this book, but Truth holds your hand and gently, oh so gently, accompanies you down these pathways of revelation and introspection. 

"I believe I was hurled to earth to smash into billions of pieces, each of which finds its way into a human heart," says Truth. "And there I thrive. Or die."

Mother, May I?

In the childhood game Mother, May I? a child asks permission to move forward by using the all-important question: Mother May I … take two giant steps? Five baby steps? One baby step and one giant step? Sometimes, the “mother” answers yes, and sometimes no. If the child forgets to ask the question the correct way, he/she has to go back to the beginning and start all over again.

I was thinking about the game on this Mother’s Day morning. With adult children, the Mother, May I? from childhood has turned into Mother, I may. Then fill in the blank: I may go to Japan this summer, get engaged, move to a new apartment, buy a new car. The flip-flopped words now inform, rather than ask.

And there are no more baby steps.

Just big GIANT steps that mark new beginnings and exciting milestones.

As a mother, this period of our sons forging ahead into Life has resulted in me wondering about my role as a mother because the job description has changed. All the “mom” things I used to do—the nurturing, feeding, teaching, chauffeuring, and Santa Clausing—are done differently, or not at all. Once, not too long ago, the boys would come to me with all their needs while Joe wondered why they did not just go to him. “Just wait,” I reassured. “There will come a day when circumstances will flip-flop.”

Well, that day has been here for a while. With our two eldest sons adulting in the Real World and our youngest a junior in college, it is Joe they go to with questions and discussions about taxes, car maintenance, insurance policies, and finances. They exchange texts about sports, and all three carpooled with Joe when they had summer internships. This is all wonderful—I love having adult sons!—but I also feel as if I do not have a lot to offer other than support, encouragement, and advice (both solicited and unsolicited), as well as homecooked meals and clean sheets and fluffy pillows for when they come home—all things which do not seem as impactful as they did in the past.

But here is where it gets confusing: I like this period in my life; however, the world has shifted just a little bit, which has resulted in an awareness of how my role has changed and will continue to change. Talk about giant steps! But with introspection, personal growth, and an abundance of heavenly grace I will find purpose while surrendering to God’s magnificent and holy plan.

So today, on Mother's Day, blessings abound and I am grateful. I know that no matter how many giant steps my sons take, no matter how far and wide they may wander, no matter what God calls me to be in this new season of life, it is as it should be.

Mother May I?

Yes, of course you may. With all my love.

purple balloon

                   i spy with my little eye                  

a purple balloon

in the sky

playfully bobbing

whooshing, twirling

the wind’s whim

 

purple balloon in the sky

were you set free

with farewell wishes?

set afloat with hope?

or an escapee

from a tiny hand

clutched until not

a toddler’s whim?

                                      

i spy with my little eye

a purple balloon

in the sky

helplessly dodging

snagged, clutched

a tree’s embrace

loving, until it hurts

 

purple balloon in the sky

was it worth it

the fleeting freedom?

there, then not?

love and loss

inhale, exhale

in a single breath?

 

i spy with my little eye

no purple balloon

in the sky

but

hope feathers

and heart flutters

a soul’s whim

News from Casa Nova

A lot of coming and going lately …

Coming: Nicholas and Lauren were able to join us in Orlando during Masters Week where went to three Disney Parks (Epcot, Hollywood Studios, Animal Kingdom). It was a liberating to experience Disney as adults. No strollers, snacks, sunscreen, hats, or backpack … just a small crossbody bag with wallet, lip balm, and sunglasses.

And can I talk about Joe and that Mickey Mouse sweatshirt? It is Timothy's old sweatshirt, oversized for a child, but not for an adult. But he insisted on wearing the "epic Mickey" sweatshirt and what can you do? ;-)

Going: Earlier this month Jonathan and Caroline flew to London and Paris for their official honeymoon. Jonathan spent a year and a half organizing the entire trip—air fare, hotels, museums, restaurants, bars, and Chunnel tickets. As a trip organizer, I was impressed how thorough he was at planning their day-to-day itinerary. They have since returned and had a marvelous time.

Coming: Nicholas and Lauren (again!) when they flew home flew home this past weekend to attend a wedding. Whirlwind visit, but fun!

Coming: Timothy is home for the summer! He arrived home 13 minutes ago, dumped the contents of his car in the rec room, and is already sound asleep on the couch. Like, totally zonked. I suggested he nap upstairs, but he says it is the best feeling to sleep on the couch when he first comes home (even if I am rattling around in the kitchen). And if it is rainy and dark (like it is right now) … Zzzzzzz.

No photo of him sleeping on the couch ... I know better. BUT, here is a photo of him sleeping on (oh the horrors!) Disney Princess sheets on a trip to Disney World several years ago. 

Going: Timothy has an SRNL internship for the summer. He is thrilled to be working in his field (engineering) and super thrilled NOT to be working at Publix. He starts next week.

Coming and Going: Lots of trips lately, both in the past and over the next few months: San Francisco, Washington DC, Orlando, Greenville, Alaska (cruise), Savannah, Hilton Head (twice), Lancaster, Knoxville.  

When 1 Golf Tournament = 10 Art Museums

I have a reputation. Not anything sinister, or lawbreaking. Just that I am known for dragging, coercing, or bribing my guys to walk through art museums with me. And everyone is always SO sympathetic. Poor Timothy. Poor Joe. What good sports they are! There evidence aplenty of their sacrifice: glazed eyes while standing in a room of Renaissance art, sitting slumped on benches waiting for mom to finish reading placards, the visible sigh when I pull them aside to describe chiaroscuro or sfumato.

But now it is time to be sympathetic for Bia, and it all started when I surprised Joe with two tickets to the RBC Heritage last Saturday. I declared it Joe’s Day!

The Venue: Hilton Head Island

The Menu: a full day at a golf tournament

The seating: none (we walked an 18-hole golf course many times)

The Weather: 85 degrees (but add in Hilton Head’s humidity, so like 110 degrees) 

As you can see, sarcasm is starting to seep in, but first allow me to accentuate the positives!

Everything worked out perfectly: the ticket purchase, the shuttle ride to the tournament (we parked at the Discovery Center), the weather (it did not rain). It was exciting to be THIS CLOSE to famous golfers: Scotty Scheffler, Rory McIlroy, Justin Thomas. At one point I was three feet away from Keegan Bradley and I so wanted to say, “Hey Keegan. You rented our house last year!” But Joe wouldn’t let me. Golf etiquette is a real thing.

But now the sarcasm. It was sooooo hot. The thermometer registered 85 degrees (which sounds pleasant) but 85 degrees on Hilton Head is not a true temperature. Factor in no breeze, off-the-chart humidity and limited shade, and suddenly Hilton Head Island turns into Dante’s inferno.

Sticky. Sweaty. Oppressive.

But, it was Joe’s Day and I was a GOOD SPORT. Nary a complaint from me about the heat. I smiled as I drank my 10^th bottle of water. I offered nothing but enthusiastic support as we walked along with the sweaty, teeming mass of humanity following golfers over 18 holes (something we did several times).

In fact, we walked more on that golf course than our longest day in Disney World … without the itzakadoozie. 

THIS is the point where you should be saying, “Poor Bia! What a good sport she is!” And you would be correct. Many, many times over.

Later that evening, once I showered and managed to lower my body temperature back into a normal range, I declared the following: 

one golf tournament on Hilton Head = five art museums (at least)

After all, an art museum is air conditioned, there are benches, and you don't get sunburned. 

So there. We are even. 

Keegan Bradley, Rory McIlroy, Joe Novajosky ...

I'll let you figure out who is who. 

Nine Photos for a 2,777th Birthday

Yesterday was Rome’s 2,777^th birthday so … BUON COMPLEANNO, ROMA! To commemorate, here are 9 of my favorite photos from past visits to the Eternal City … the funny, nostalgic, and downright scary.

1-     Cheesy tourist shot. My friend Jill, with me on a whirlwind 3-night, 4-day trip to Rome for my 40^th birthday. Jill-the-gladiator with the killer instincts.

2-     McDonald’s in Rome. Near the Pantheon my guys (big and little) spied the Golden Arches and wanted hamburgers for lunch. I was most annoyed when Joe agreed, but my heart melted when I took this photo. Then we got a gelato.

3-     Two sisters, two photos (top 2015 and bottom 2023).

4-     The correct way to toss a coin in the Trevi fountain: according to our friend and tour guide, Jane Stortiglione, one should use the left hand to toss the coin over your right shoulder. As you can see, three of us got it wrong. We laughed so hard. THEN we had to toss another coin to undo the bad toss.

5-     Yowza. The same two sisters from #3 above, in front of Castel Sant’Angelo, in serious need of a gelato, or something.

6-     First Girls’ Trip to Italy (2015). Within ONE HOUR of landing in Rome, we found a leather shop.

7-     Back to front: The time my parents and I wanted to take two seminarians studying in Rome out to dinner and arranged to meet them in front of the Church of Santa Maria Maggiore. We waited and waited—where were they? Then we realized we were at the BACK of the church. We ran around to the front, very late, where we found the seminarians waiting for US.

8-     With my sister in front of Michelangelo’s Pietà (photo taken by my friend, Julie).

9-     Favorite photo. Ever. Totally captures my love of Rome and, indeed, of travel in general.

Speak to Me Sunday: A Lesson from Shrek

On this Good Shepherd Sunday, I give you this photo of Shrek the sheep.

Poor Shrek. He was found after he had been hiding out in a cave for six years. In all that time, without anyone there to shear his fleece, it grew and grew. Most sheep have a fleece that weighs around ten pounds, but Shrek’s fleece weighed almost sixty.

Poor Shrek carried a monumental burden simply because he was away from his shepherd. In less than half an hour a professional sheep shearer removed his sixty pounds of fleece.

All that time burdened and alone, and all Shrek had to do was come home to his shepherd.

“Come to me, all you who labor and have been burdened, and I will refresh you.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am meek and humble of heart;

and you shall find rest for your souls.” 

(Mt 11:28-30)