let him serve You.

My husband – much like his father – gets things done on his own time schedule. If I ask him to fold the laundry or wash the dishes, he will do it, but perhaps not in the time frame I would desire. In certain instances this has been a struggle in our marriage because I end up doing the task myself because I just want it done. Even as I type there’s a basket of laundry waiting to be folded and it is taking some restraint to blog rather than fold said laundry.

What I’ve learned in the last few months is that, even if it isn’t necessarily on my time frame, it is important to let him serve me. If I’ve asked him to do something, or if he’s offered to help, I need to let him do just that. Jumping in and doing the task myself gets it done, but it robs him of the chance to serve, to pitch in, and to love me. When I jump in and take care of whatever chore or task it may be, I am essentially telling him that I don’t need him, I can do it myself. Rather than be patient with him, I tell him by my actions that my way is better and that I just couldn’t wait for him.

lacking in Character.

Few are the times on this old blog of mine that I’ve gotten political. I am far from a political junkie, much less a political blogger, but when it comes to Donald Trump, I’m still flat out baffled that he’s made it this far in the race for the Republican nomination.

No person is perfect, God knows we are all sinners, but what amazes me most about Donald Trump is how lacking in character he is. How can we, as a nation, seriously consider nominating someone for President, someone who will lead this country, when he lacks character as a person, much less a leader? 

let them make Messes.

Even at these early stages of parenting I can see how all of the lessons I’m learning now, I’ll have to re-learn as our children grow – even if they take place on a larger scale.

Lately our daughter has been learning to feed herself. While it is exciting, it can also be rather messy. As a mom (and a bit of a neat-freak), I want to jump in and help her or make things easier for her. I could feed her forever and save her the mess (and myself the clean up!), or I could learn to let go so that she can learn, even if she makes a few messes along the way. I could feed her, but if I don’t give her a chance to learn to feed herself, she may never learn that important skill. She’ll learn from the times she misses her mouth and makes a mess. In some sense, she needs to make a mess, make a few mistakes, in order to learn how to do things properly.

you have Time.

There is a tendency in our culture, or perhaps just in our generation, to go about saying that we don’t have time for such and such activity or venture. We stop ourselves from doing so many things by writing it off as something we simply don’t have time to do.

I don’t have time for grad school.

I don’t have time for a writing job.

I don’t have time to go to that party.

I don’t have time to write a book.

I don’t have time to date.

If you pause for a second, I am sure you can come up with your own list of things you’ve said – even in the last month – that you don’t have time for. 

my imperfect Motherhood.

I am a far cry from the perfect mother. My home doesn’t look like the inside of a cathedral, nor does it look like a scene from any of my Pinterest boards.

Some days my daughter spends half an hour playing with the box that her diapers arrived in because it keeps her occupied long enough for me to cook dinner. Some days dinner comes out of a box. Or a can. Or a pre-packaged Gerber container (my daughter’s dinner, that is. I don’t eat her baby food…unless I’m desperate. Kidding. Sort of.). My daughter doesn’t have a sensory board or have different kinds of ‘playing experiences’ each and every day. Some days she naps like a champ, other days she refuses naps.

There are some – admittedly rare – days that I feel I’m on my motherhood game. It feels as though I know what I’m doing trying to raise this little saint. But then there are days – and this is the vast majority of days – that I have no idea what I’m doing. There’s food in my baby’s hair, there’s food in my hair, the house is a mess, my child is screaming and I’m doing my best not to scream back at her. There have been days I’ve placed her in her crib just so I could go scream into my pillow because I’m at my wit’s end. Trust me when I say that there are days that there aren’t enough Instagram filters in the world to make this motherhood thing look pretty. More often than not this motherhood thing brings me to my knees.

deny not the Mamas.

Today my daughter and I went to Mass at a parish we’ve been going to weekly for a few months. We tend to frequent different parishes during the week depending on her ever-changing schedule, but we are no strangers to this particular parish.

When it came time for communion, I plopped my daughter on my hip, same as always. I received the Body and got in line to receive the Blood. When I was next in line, the Extraordinary Minister of Holy Communion – also a deacon who was not vested today – asked the woman in front of me to stay for a minute. Perplexed, I stepped forward to receive. The minister asked me to hand my child to the woman before me. I am not sure what kind of look shot across my face, but I have no doubt that every mother out there will understand my reaction when someone asks me to hand my child to a perfect stranger.

to be Overcome.

Yesterday I took our daughter to the all school Mass at the school my husband teaches at for Ash Wednesday. While I loved the readings, what spoke to me most – in between wrangling our daughter – was the beauty of God’s goodness.

The children sang some of my very favorite songs as I struggled to hold back tears at the joy of how wonderful and loving our God is. That may seem a bit odd since we are now in Lent, a season of penance, prayer, and fasting, but in that liturgy I was overwhelmed at how God leads our lives. More than anything, I was struck by how God leads us to Himself.

the beginning of an Era.

I am a true orange and blue, life long, born and bred Broncos fan. Not a fair-weather fan, not a band-wagon-er, but a fan who has spent the majority of this season teaching her (not yet one year old) daughter to cheer for the Broncos and/or to not be afraid when my entire family jumps up and screams at the TV.

From the time our daughter was born, we agreed that we wouldn’t let her watch TV…except for when the Broncos are playing.

Needless to say, the Super Bowl was a pretty big deal for us. As a family we got decked out in all our Bronco gear. Though our daughter’s normal bedtime fell right in the middle of the third quarter, she stayed up, cheering and playing happily like the true little Bronco fan that she is, right up until the last five minutes of the game. The only thing that would calm her was to nurse, which she won’t do while the TV is going and people are cheering. 

non-practicing Catholics.

Perhaps it is what I get for being married to an English major. Perhaps it is my theology degree coming out. Either way, I tend to be pretty picky when it comes to words related to the Faith, and this is one of those terms.

Here’s the thing that a surprising number of people don’t know about their baptism: it means you are Catholic forever. And ever. Amen. Baptism leaves an indelible mark on your soul. You don’t wash that away when you stop going to Mass or live in a way that is contrary to Church teaching. You are – for all intents and purposes – still a Catholic. And you always will be.

not Sparing.

And when I think, that God, His Son not sparing;
Sent Him to die, I scarce can take it in;
That on the Cross, my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin.

-How Great Thou Art

News flash: life is hard. Life is also filled – sometimes unbearably so – with suffering. We live in a valley of tears. Occasionally we get to experience glimpses of heaven on earth: the feeling of holding a new child in our arms, a proposal of marriage, landing the perfect job, and the like. But then there are times the suffering seems overwhelming: financial distress, strife in the family, friendships lost, the death of a loved one. In the midst of this suffering it is easy to wonder, as we all do, why?