When I open the door and see my mother-in-law standing there, something inside cracks and tears escape down my face. I’m not dressed. Toys and bits of food litter the floor.
Read moreJust a Touch
My daughter’s body is curled on my chest, hot with fever. She is 18 months old, just discovering the joy of running everywhere, but this week her little legs lay still. She opens her eyes some, vaguely aware that Dory is getting lost for the 18th time on the blue of the television screen.
Read moreAn Empty House
I love the quiet, the stillness before the sun rises and little feet patter down the hall. This time is my gift to myself and to God. It is the time when the coffee is still hot
Read moreGod in the Kitchen Sink
This house will never be clean again. Despite the unlikelihood of this statement, I know it to be true. I’m drowning in a sea of toys and laundry, and if I am to take Marie Kondo’s advice, it’s all going in the trash because none of it is sparking any joy.
Read moreMultiply Me
When there’s not enough of you to go around
Read moreMotherhood, Or Why I'm Still in My Pajamas
It's been one of those mornings. Actually, it's the afternoon now, so I guess it started out as just a morning but it got bold as it gained strength and it's threatening to take over the whole day.
Read moreDismantling the "Just a Mom" Myth
One of the hazards of bearing a baby bump is the avalanche of advice on how best to raise your children. Friends and strangers suddenly feel the impulse to touch you without warning and share harrowing stories of traumatic birth experiences. And they always want to know, “Are you going back to work?”
For some mothers, this choice is easy, and their circumstances and desires align. For others, “choice” is dictated by circumstance. For many, this question is not simple, the answer is not apparent, their desires conflict, and the matter is never fully settled.
Read moreWhat I've Learned in Becoming a Stay-at-Home Mom
It was the middle of the night when I drove myself to the emergency room. My lungs were burning and I had coughed up a bit of blood. I tried to keep myself calm, to avoid panicking prematurely. If it was what I thought it was, there was a very good chance that I could die.
I don’t want to leave this all behind, I prayed, but if tonight is the end, please bring me home.
Read moreAm I Enough?
My life is a little slice of paradise. Sitting in my chair for morning prayer, I look out the big picture window at our backyard. The primary colors of a big plastic slide bright are bright against the green of the grass. Hummingbirds, squirrels, and rabbits visit. Birdsong fills the air. My vegetables are finally starting to produce, and the butterfly garden is flowering. My prayer is one of peace and gratitude, but also of disquiet.
Is what I do enough? I ask myself.
Read moreMy Daily Bread
I’m always perplexed when I see people at concerts trying to film the experience. What we can capture on our phones won’t look or sound all that great – certainly not as great as the recorded version or professional photos we could look up later. Really, the purpose of being at a concert is just that: being there. Feeling the music vibrate through you, being among the crowd of fans, enjoying proximity to someone whose talent you admire. None of what is great about a concert can be captured by our devices. In fact, trying to do so actually places distance between us and the experience we seek to capture.
Read moreThe Temptation of the Checklist
Pay attention. Soon, these days will be no more.
It’s easy to fall into the trap of surveying all that is left undone, and think: failure. Dirty dishes, laundry wrinkling in the dryer, emails to be answered. It’s easy to fall prey to the lure of the checklist: each checkmark, validation. The more checkmarks, the better – the better job I’m doing, the better mother I am. The better I am.
Read moreGod Works in the Waiting
I am not a person who waits. I take my time to think, to research, to plan and to pray. But once I reach a decision, I do not like to delay execution. When I made the decision to enter the Catholic Church, I did not want to wait. The image I have of my excitement is Harry’s line at the end of When Harry Met Sally: “Once you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.” I wanted to receive Jesus in the Eucharist as soon as possible.
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