Let the Christmas Festivities Begin!

Last night we went to the most lovely Christmas party.  Our #3 son and his wife Preciosa rented out their friend’s coffee shop, and in a nod to her half-Cuban heritage, they had it catered with a traditional Noche Buena feast from a local restaurant: lechon, which is slow-roasted, mojo-marinated shredded pork shoulder; rice and spicy black beans; cucumber salad; roasted plantains; and toasted Cuban bread. Noche Buena is celebrated by Cubans on Christmas Eve, and if you really want to get serious about the meal, you roast a whole pig for it.

Guests brought some charcuterie and desserts to share.  Wine and beer (and delicious coffee!) flowed like…well, they flowed like wine, you could say.  Our contribution was a double-sized batch of the Oreo trifle that I always used to make for our boys’ Friday night team football dinners when they were in high school. It goes by many names, but we call it “Heavenly Dirt.”

There were about 30 people there, maybe more—and we were probably 30 years older than most of them (LOL!  But true story!); it was a predominantly young crowd, but we were so glad to be included.  What a delightful bunch!  We got to hang out with two of our boys and their wives, just us adults— and as much as we adore our grandchildren, this rare grown-ups-only time was so precious.

The friend who owns the coffee shop was actually a classmate of our second-oldest son when he was at Notre Dame, and this guy also got close to sons # 3 and 4 when they joined their brother out there. And now he lives right down the road from son #3. His establishment was such an ideal place to have a party like this.  If you’re ever in the Charlottesville area and you want to enjoy a great cup of coffee (or a latte or a chai tea or whatever), and sip it while relaxing in a really amazing space that feels both airy and spacious and intimately cozy at the same time, you should check his place out (First Free Coffee Bar).

I absolutely love this time of year.  I love having a party to dress up for, and meeting up with friends and especially family (THE funnest people I know), and eating delicious food prepared by someone else while Christmas music is playing in the background…it just doesn’t get much better than that.

Here’s wishing you all the joy of the Christmas season, dear readers. May your days be merry and bright! If your Christmas is also white, that’s a bonus; we don’t get those very often here in Virginia! But as much as I love seeing snow on the ground on the 25th of December, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be right now than right where I am.

How We Handle Christmas Gifts

Before I get started, Happy Feast of the Immaculate Conception, dear readers.  

We have been blessed with 23 grandchildren, abundantly blessed--and I can't tell you the number of times people have asked me how we "do Christmas" with so many to buy for.  It's a complicated question, because we don't have a set routine; each year has tended to be slightly different, and plans keep evolving with the addition of each new little one.  I didn't make a decision the day I became a grandmother about how I was going to handle the Christmas gift-giving thing.  (You know, the way some parents decide from the outset to give each of their children three gifts, like the Wise Men; or they give four: "something you want, something you need, something to wear, something to read.") Part of me wishes that I had been that forward-thinking and organized about it, but I wasn't.  So as I said, it's a tough question to answer.

If we had 10 grandkids or less, I imagine I might have a different philosophy about Christmas gift-giving. But there is no way that we can be those over-the-top generous grandparents, the ones who give motorized ride-on cars and such, when there are 23 of them.  That would bankrupt us.  Even the whole matching Christmas jammies rigamarole is not something we can pull off these days  I tried that once, about six or seven years ago.  I hunted down coordinating PJ's for all of them; but somehow we never even got the requisite picture of all the grandkids gathered together in their red-and-black buffalo checks.  So I haven't tried that since.

When our three oldest grandchildren, all girls, were young, I used to sew matching Christmas dresses for them; but things were simpler back then.  For a time, they were our only grandchildren! That changed fast! In 2020, I did manage to get the five youngest girls matching red-and-white plaid taffeta dresses, which I'd bought at an after-Christmas clearance sale in 2019, hoping the sizes would work out a year later. They did, and it was adorable.

How cute are these little gals?

But I've got 13 granddaughters now, ages one to 14, who are all shapes and sizes, and all particular about how they like to dress (or how their mommies like to dress them); so that sort of thing just isn't going to happen anymore. 

Anyhoo, I was reading Leila Lawler's most recent post over at Like Mother, Like Daughter, and I realized that in her, I have a kindred spirit.  She has 22 grandchildren and a limited budget, she loves to give gifts handmade with love, and she realizes that it is not up to her to fulfill her grandchildren's wildest dreams at Christmastime.  She says, "I give myself permission to step down from the job of fulfilling their Christmas dreams.  That's the parent's job, really.  You know what I mean: if the child has been longing for a bike or a doll, the parents know best what to get...I've done my part, however inadequately, when my own children were growing up."  Lawler says it so much better than I could, and I totally agree that although grandparents play a vital role in the lives of their grandchildren, giving them the bestest-ever gifts at Christmas does not need to be priority number one.  It's okay as a grandmother to, as she puts it, "just relax into the role of the loving figure who sent you some little toy that wasn't the be-all and end-all."  She doesn't stress about it; she says she just tries "to give one gift per grandchild that is something along these lines: handmade, whimsical, and/or relating to a particular interest of the child."

Although I admittedly sometimes let myself worry about whether I'm doing "enough," Lawler's wise words really do resonate with me. I actually think it's even okay for grandparent gifts to be the ones that get the heave-ho over the shoulder, the way Ralphie and Randy do with their socks in the movie A Christmas Story.  (LOL--that reminds me of two Christmases ago, our "beach towel Christmas."  Sometime I'll give you a good chuckle and tell you all about that one!)

Seriously, though, I don't believe that grandparents need to compete with Santa.  Now don't get me wrong: even though gift-giving isn't my first love language, I do love giving gifts.  It's just that I'm happiest when I have an idea for something I can make rather than buy.  And it's not about the money, really; it's more about wanting to figure out something personal and meaningful for the people who mean the most to me.  I am more apt to want to find a special wished-for toy for each grandchild on their birthdays, when it's all about him or her. But on Christmas, it's all about Jesus, and I feel like the gifts that Papa and I give don't need to make anyone's dreams come true.  I never received anything but clothes and books from my grandparents, and that was okay by me; it was Santa, and Mom and Dad, who stockpiled longed-for toys under the tree and filled my stocking with tiny treasures.

My husband's parents, who ended up with a whopping 32 grandchildren, got to the point where they just gave out crisp five dollar bills at Christmas, and then eventually ten dollar bills. It had just gotten too hard to do gifts for that many kids!  We're not quite there yet, but I can see that as a possibility for how we'll handle things down the road--adjusted for inflation, of course.  :)

So, how's it going to go this year, you ask?  For Christmas 2025, our main gift for each grandchild will be a Rosary handcrafted with love for them by their Grammy.  The ones for the girls are made of white pearls, with rose-shaped beads for the Our Fathers; the ones for the boys are made of blue and gold pearls (Notre Dame colors!), with football-shaped beads for the Our Fathers; and all of them have their names spelled out in letter beads.  I made these way back in the spring, when I got the idea.  I was too excited to wait!  (I do realize that I have some grandchildren who are too young to appreciate or take care of these Rosaries yet; but I wanted to make them for all 23 anyway.)

It's really going to be a handmade Christmas (yay!), because I also stitched up short capes for all 13 granddaughters (well, full disclosure: eight are finished, and I'm currently working on the last five). My youngest son's wife suggested this project to me, and I thought it was genius!  I had to purchase some lining fabric and some metal sew-on clasps, but the yards and yards of lovely velvet material came from my late mother-in-law's attic (adding some sentimental value to these garments).   I'm hoping to get pictures of the girls modeling them, and if so I'll share them here at the blog someday. 

I've been busy in my basement sewing room!

Girls like pretty clothes, so I can do this sort of thing for the granddaughters; but boys, not so much.   I used to sew a bit for my grandsons when they were little guys, rompers and such; but these days, I don't think that's the way to go.  When it comes to clothes, a team jersey or a Pokemon t-shirt might be a hit; but they all have plenty of those.  So the girls will get the capes with their Rosaries, and the big boys will get new footballs (cool ones with favorite team logos on them--I'm not a total Grinch!).  The boys who are too little to care about footballs will get trucks (again, not a Grinch!).

I might have thrown a few extra toys into the mix for two of our wee granddaughters, who are almost 3 and almost one; but they are the only grandchildren we won't see this Christmas season (they'll be out in Michigan with their other grandparents), so I think it's okay to spoil them just a tad. 

This is how we're doing things this Christmas; it all might look totally different next year, depending on circumstances.  But I'm thrilled that this one is going to be a mostly homemade Christmas.

To wrap this up, I don't really think it's necessary, or even a good idea, to try to spoil our grandkids too much with stuff--in general, not just at Christmastime.  Their Papa and I prefer to spoil them with our time and attention, which we give as generously and joyfully as we possibly can throughout the year.

And now, down to the sewing room!

Catching Up Before Christmas (Thanksgiving 2025)

We'll already be lighting our second purple Advent candle tomorrow, and I haven't even gotten around to blogging about Thanksgiving yet.  So I thought I'd document that celebration before the Christmas season starts to get really busy!

We had 25 people at our house on Thanksgiving: 12 adults and 13 children.  Joining us were sons #3, #4, and #5 and their combined 11 offspring, and also son #4's in-laws (his wife Braveheart's mom and dad, her brother, his wife, and their two small children). 

We tried something different this year and decided that along with the turkey, we would roast two large chickens.  We bought some plump, pasture-raised Thanksgiving chickens at the farm where we pick up our raw milk every week.  (Yes!  In our old age, my hubby and I have gotten a bit crunchy!  But raw milk has so many health benefits.  If you don't believe me, google it!)  The amazing thing was that we got almost as much meat from a 9-pound chicken as we did from the much bigger 20-pound turkey!  And I don't know about you, but I think turkey drumsticks are so not worth it.  They're always too tough.  But those chicken drumsticks were tender and juicy and thoroughly enjoyed by one of our grandsons.  I mixed the turkey and chicken drippings together and the gravy was abundant, which is a good thing; because according to my boys, gravy is the most important item on the Thanksgiving menu.  And that gravy was amazing--if I do say so myself. (I rarely brag about my cooking, which almost always falls short of my expectations; so hearing me say that is akin to spotting a unicorn.)

What a joy it was to have son #5's little fam with us for the week!

Most years, I admittedly try to do too much.  I actually enjoy all the prep work and planning, and just having the privilege of putting on this holiday feast for my kids and grandkids.  But finally this year, I took the pack off (partially) and let others do most of the side dishes.  We provided the turkey and chicken, gravy, stuffing, and assorted beverages.  I made a double-batch of caramel brownies and a cheesecake for dessert.  But the other gals involved brought the rest of the yumminess, including garlic mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, macaroni and cheese casserole, spinach and pasta casserole, cranberry sauce, rolls, pumpkin pie, ice cream, and hors d'oeuvres.  Son #5 and his family were with us for the week, and his wife Babisiu* made a scrumptious sweet potato dish.  So as you can see, I had it relatively easy this year.  And the food was so good.  (I probably enjoyed it even more because someone other than myself had made so much of it!)

BTW, I always cook my birds the day before.  After they've cooled, my husband carves them and puts them in casserole dishes, and we pour a generous amount of chicken or turkey broth in there to keep them moist while they're stored in the fridge overnight.  Then on the big day, all you have to do is warm up the casserole dishes.  Easy peasy!  The meat is always so juicy and tender, too, and doing it this way saves so much stress and makes it so that you can relax a bit and actually enjoy the day itself.  At least, that's how it is for me.  (Were you looking for advice about how to cook your turkey?  If so, you're welcome.  If not, sorry for sounding like I've got it all together.  I don't, believe me.)

For years, we've been using these disposable chafing dishes for our big parties to keep all the food warm. As the festivities were going on, my husband and I were discussing how maybe it was time to get some really good, heavy-duty, stainless steel ones.  We host big groups enough, we reasoned, that it would be well worth the money to invest in them.

 

Well, at one point I looked over at him and he was on his phone, and I asked him if he was ordering them right that minute.  And he was!  Mid-party, he was shopping!  He is so funny.  While he was on Amazon ordering the chafing dishes, he also ordered 36 place settings of inexpensive caterer-style stainless silverware, so that we never again have to purchase plasticware for our family gatherings.  No more aluminum chafing dishes, no more paper plates, no more plasticware.  We're getting serious here.

Picture-taking was not high on my priority list that day, but here's a snapshot of the kids' table.

And here's a sub-par pic of the adults' table.  Excuse the terrible lighting--someone should have turned off those lamps, I guess. 

So that was our Thanksgiving.  And now, it's on to Christmas, the most wonderful time of the year. My favorite.  God bless you, dear readers!  And Happy St. Nicholas Day!

*I gave my D-I-L this Polish term of endearment because my husband and I took a Christmas trip to Poland with her before she married our son, when he was on an Army deployment over there.  I just discovered that it means grandmother--which, as you can imagine, is not what I thought it meant!  I might have to give her a new blog handle!

That Dad Life (And Go Irish!)

So before I get to blogging about our 2025 Thanksgiving celebration here at Casa Papa and Grammy, I wanted to finish this post that I started a while back and never finished.  I seem to be a day late and a dollar short a lot at this blog in recent years; but better late than never, right?  So here we go:

 

There are few things more delightful for a mother (or a father, of course) to behold than the sight of her sons killing it in the fatherhood department.  Just the fact that my husband and I only have five offspring of our own, and between them they have 23 children (so far!), tells you all you need to know about how our boys have wholeheartedly embraced their God-given, sacred, and vital vocation. I can't tell you the joy it brings us to know that they all wanted big families.  It makes us feel (or hope, anyway) that this means they have happy memories of growing up in our home, in a tight-knit pack of five brothers.

They take their role as fathers, as the loving leaders of their households, seriously.  That much is clear.

THEY ARE PASSING THE FAITH ON TO THEIR CHILDREN:

A couple of weeks ago, we were at son #3’s house, celebrating the 8th birthday of one of his daughters. After we had the cake and presents, he gathered his five kids in the family room to say their daily decade of the Rosary together.  And afterward, he had children draped all over him as a chapter was read aloud from a kids’ book of Bible stories (another nightly tradition of theirs that follows the Rosary).

THEY LOVE SPREADING HOLIDAY CHEER IN THEIR HOMES:

The very same night we were over at son #3's house for the birthday celebration,  son #5, our baby, took it upon himself to deck the halls of the house he shares with his wife and two wee daughters.  To our family text stream, he posted this photo of his youngest (also the youngest of our 23 grandchildren) in his arms, entranced by the glowing Christmas tree.  I absolutely love this image; it looks like art—I wish I could paint it!

THEY GIVE THEIR KIDS SPECIAL ONE-ON-ONE TIME (AND ALSO SHARE THEIR LOVE OF NOTRE DAME FOOTBALL WITH THEM):

In this case, make that ONE-ON-TWO time.  Here is a picture of our #4 son, a father of four, with his two 8-year-old boys (identical twins as well as triplets, along with a sister) on a road trip with Papa and Grammy out to the University of Notre Dame the Friday before Thanksgiving, to attend the ND v. Syracuse game on Saturday, November 22.  We left for South Bend early Friday morning.

And we got there in time to do a little bit of campus sight-seeing late that afternoon.

What a thrill for Papa and Grammy to share this core memory experience
with these beloved grandsons and their father.

On Saturday morning, we had breakfast at the locally famous Pancake House (the very same one that my husband used to frequent way back in the late 70's when he was a student out there).

That afternoon, these lucky lads got to see the luck of the Irish in action: an epic 70-7 win, which as their dad joked, "set them up for a lifetime of unrealistic expectations."  This is undoubtably true; they may never see such a game again.  Before this trip, they weren't really football fans yet; but after this incredible experience (where they got to sit in club seats up there with all the beautiful people, thanks to the generosity of my husband's siblings, who have club tickets they weren't using that weekend!), we think they might be joining the ranks of die-hard Notre Dame fans.

As an added bonus, our oldest son, a pilot who lives and works in WI,  flew his boss in for the game.  He was able to sit with his younger brother and two nephews for the first half; but since the Irish had things well in hand from the get-go, by halftime the boss had had enough of watching them manhandle the Orangemen (it was already 49-0!), and our son had to leave to fly him back home.  (Actually, lots of people left early.  So my husband and I, who were originally sitting in a different section, got to sit with son #4 and his boys for the second half, in two seats that had been left empty behind them!) 

Brother time for sons #1 and #4.

Enjoying all the pre-game feasting and fun up in the club.

On Sunday, we attended Mass at the glorious Basilica of the Sacred Heart, and then we stopped by the Grotto to say some prayers to the Lady who lives there in a lofty niche in the stones.  She's the Lady who also lives atop the iconic Golden Dome.  And She's the Lady who watches over that university named for Her with motherly concern and undying love, I am quite convinced.  (Love thee, Notre Dame!)  We did some more campus exploration, which was made all the more enjoyable because of the milder-than-usual November temps!  The boys even got to visit the dorm that their dad used to call home. After our wonderful whirlwind weekend, early Monday morning we hopped in the car for the return trip to VA.

Our youngest son and his wife and two daughters had arrived in VA to spend Thanksgiving week with us the Sunday night that we were out in South Bend (oh how I'd love to be in two places at once sometimes!). Fortunately, they were able to stay at son #3's house on Sunday and Monday nights and get in some good bonding time (of both the brother and cousin variety) before they moved in with us on Tuesday.   They did not leave to head back to TN until Sunday, and it was truly a joy to have them with us.  I started missing them the moment they drove away!

Next time, I'll fill you in on our Thanksgiving festivities, in all their chaotic glory!  In the meantime...Go Irish! 

Best. Halloween. Ever!

That's no exaggeration.  Halloween 2025 really will go down as the best--or at least the most memorable-ever.  And the funniest.

In what has become a tradition during our years here in VA, we had two of our boys--son #3 and son #4--over to our house to celebrate, along with their wives and the nine children they have between them.  We also had their old friend from college (who lives in the area) join us, with his wife and their five kids.  So we had 14 little Trick-or-Treaters in all.  We live in a Halloween-obsessed neighborhood of the cookie cutter variety, with nice flat streets and safe sidewalks, and with over 200 houses that have very little real estate separating them from each other.  So it's a Trick-or-Treater's paradise.

We had chili and chicken nuggets and mac-and-cheese and hot spiced cider beforehand, and then the kids went out and hit the mean streets.

So what was so memorable and funny about this Halloween, compared to previous ones, you ask, when we've had a similar fun-filled gathering every other October 31 since we moved here?  Well...

A couple of years ago, son #4 told us about this Internet Halloween trick that had gone viral, and he encouraged us to try it.  It involves a potato.  Have you heard of it?  Here's an article that explains the whole thing, if you're interested: https://www.mashed.com/1438031/halloween-potato-trend-explained (Basically, you put a potato in your bowl of candy, and then you let kids come and pick what they want from the bowl.  You don't explain the potato or say a word about it, but just wait to see if they notice it and watch how they react.)  

My husband and I always put two chairs out in front of the house, with the candy bowl sitting on a little table between us.  This year, we bought a five-pound bag of smallish potatoes along with all the bags of candy, and this is how our bowl looked for each group of Trick-or-Treaters who came up our front walk.

Honestly, I wasn't sure how this experiment would go over, and even wondered if it would be a total bust. Well, I needn't have worried!  It was so hilarious to see the way the kids reacted to finding a potato in the bowl, and to see how many of them eagerly scooped it up and walked away with it as if it was a grand prize. There was only one time that a group came up, saw the potato, and all walked away without anyone opting to take it.  Every other group had an enthusiastic potato-snatcher. 

Trick-or-Treater: "Is that a potato?"  Us: "Yes!"  Trick-or-Treater: "Can I have it?" Us: "Sure, and take some candy, too."

Trick-or-Treater: "Wait, is that a potato?"  Us: "Yes, it's a potato."  Trick-or-Treater, grabbing the spud: "It's MY potato now!"

Trick-or-Treater: "What's a potato doing in there?"  Us: "You can have it if you want."  Trick-or-Treater: "Mom!  Do you want a potato?"  Trick-or-Treater's mom, waiting on the sidewalk near the road: "You have potatoes?!"  Us: "Yes, we do!"  Trick-or-Treater: "I'm taking it.  I'm going to boil it when I get home." 

We laughed SO MUCH, I'm telling you.  Who would have thought that so many children--of all ages, not just the humor-savvy teens--would want the potato?! We gave away every potato in the five-pound bag and ran out long before the trick-or-treating was over.  Almost right away, we decided that next year, we'd better get a ten-pound bag.  One of the moms who stopped by with her kids absolutely loved it, and she said that we needed to do this every year.  So I guess we're going to be "the potato house"; that will be our claim to fame.

Son #3 sat out front with us, after returning from trick-or-treating with his own kids, to watch some of the potato shenanigans, and we laughed so much with him.  (He has the most infectious laugh, too; I challenge anyone to hear it and not join in!)  He took videos of a number of the kids coming up the walk, to record their reactions to the potato. I would share a few of those videos here, but I don't feel right about putting other people's kids' faces on the Internet without their permission.  Just know that it was absolutely hilarious. 

So that was Halloween at our house this year.  I hope yours was every bit as fun.  (But I'll bet it wasn't as funny!)

My daughter-in-law Braveheart requests this dessert every Halloween.
 It's "Heavenly Dirt," which I made for our sons' football team spaghetti dinners
every week when they were in high school.  (Minus the "gravestones," of course!)

One-on-One Outings with My Girls

Recently, I have had the joy of spending some one-on-one time with two of the three daughters-in-law who live nearby here in VA.

On September 24, Preciosa (wife of son #3 and mother of five, who lives about 35 minutes south of us) came over to our house after her kids' school drop-offs, and the two of us enjoyed an early, leisurely lunch at a popular restaurant in our quaint, adorable, thriving downtown—the main drag of which is filled with interesting clothing and housewares boutiques, antiques and gift shops, and top-rated eateries.  It was a lovely day in our little town, warm and sunny, so afterward we went over to a sweets shop and got some rich and creamy gelato, which we enjoyed while sitting at an outdoor table.  Then we went to a kids' consignment shop, where my D-I-L found fantastic deals on hardly-worn winter coats for two of her kids.

I absolutely love our downtown area, but I rarely go there because my husband and I spend almost all of our time together, and he's not a "let's go window-shopping downtown" kind of guy (not that I'm complaining!).  But this "girls' day" downtown outing with Preciosa was so wonderful, so special. I see her quite often, but it's rarely just the two of us.  How fun it was to have a couple of interruption-free hours to talk—and we did, about so many things.  I'm so glad we asked the waitress to take a picture of us, because this is a memory I will cherish.  It was just a random Wednesday, an ordinary day...but it was extraordinarily good.

Then I made an October 9 reservation for two at a popular Tea Room located downtown, for another "girls' day” luncheon outing with my daughter-in-law Braveheart (wife of son #4 and mother of four, who lives near Preciosa).  She has always been interested in going to this place for a proper English tea.  I've only been once, years ago, with my D-I-L Regina (wife of son #1 and mother of seven, who now lives in WI), back when she lived near us here in VA.  (I did blog about that wonderful outing, if you want to check out that old post here.)  But in the intervening years, I haven't been back and the establishment has since moved its location and changed ownership.  So I wasn't sure what to expect...would it be as sweet and feminine and lovely (as tea-riffic?) as it was in the old location? 

Well, let's just say that it didn't disappoint!  The table was elegantly set with fine china cups and saucers and a damask tablecloth.  There was an assortment of hats, scarves, pearls, and other accessories available to borrow, to wear while we slipped our tea. So we got all gussied-up and then shared plates of little tea sandwiches and fancy little desserts (which included apple-cinnamon scones that were simply delectable). And we split a pot of truly delicious tea; I already forget its name and the combination of spices and ingredients with which it was flavored; but trust me, it was so good!  And again, it was special to be able to sit and chat one-on-one, to have a tea party for two and lots of girl talk, with this sweet D-I-L.

Afterwards, we visited a shop that sells clothes, housewares, and various decorative items from all over the world, and we both left with a few pretty tchotchkes.

My daughter-in-law Ginger (wife of son #2) lives about 50 minutes north of us.  She and I regularly text and audio-text back and forth, sharing decorating and party-planning ideas, recipes, and our latest thrift store finds. If given a choice between going out to lunch or spending a few hours hunting for pennies-on-the-dollar treasures at her favorite thrift store, she would always pick the latter.  So I decided that the perfect way to get some quality girl time with her was to go thrifting (and maybe find some little place to grab a cup of coffee while we're at it).  We haven’t been able to schedule that outing yet, but I’m already looking forward to it.  (And if we make it. happen, you'll probably be hearing about it here.) 

I wish my other two D-I-L's—Regina in WI and Babisiu* in TN—lived close enough to schedule regular get-togethers; but I enjoy spending time with them whenever I can get it. I was always a proud, happy, and fulfilled boy mom, and I never felt like I was missing out on anything at all, because my life was so blessed with my five beloved sons; but these girls have all enriched my life so much, each in her own inimitable way.  (*BTW, that's a Polish term of endearment that means "baby," and that D-I-L is married to our baby.)

Back in February, a couple of readers left comments on a post about meeting our latest granddaughter, asking if I would ever consider writing something here at the blog about being a mother-in-law.

  

While I don't consider myself the sort of person who has all kinds of sage advice to impart about—well, about anything!—I'm thinking of writing about being a M-I-L to all girls.  That is, from what my own personal experience has been, anyway. Our boys all picked lovely Godly women to marry, which as Anne Marie notes above is the biggest key, so they’ve made it easy for me. And I’m not sure I have any earth-shattering words of wisdom to pass on. But stay tuned while I gather my thoughts and perhaps there will be a post on that subject here at the blog, sooner rather than later.

Now I'll sign off with this photo of me surrounded by my beloved girls.  Seriously, how lucky am I?

Rhetorical question, dear readers!  😊

Morning Person

Good morning, dear readers, and Happy Feast of Our Lady of the Rosary!

I am very much a morning person.  

I love to get up as early as possible, while it's still dark out even, so I can spend some time all by myself in a quiet house. (An introvert's dream, right?)  I’ve always been this way, even back when I was in high school. There was none of that flying-by-the-seat-of-your-pants, waiting til the last minute to get up and dressed and out the door just-in-the nick-of-time business for me, no siree bob. I would set my alarm for the crack of dawn and be out of the shower before my siblings had even awakened.  Even then, I loved a slow, peaceful beginning to my day.  (When our five boys were growing up, this sort of morning was usually not an option for Mom--obviously!   And I adjusted to early morning chaos.  But in these empty-nesting years, I am soaking up these daily wee hours of peace and tranquility to the fullest!)

I love to sit in this spot in our VA living room after I get up and prepare my first cup of coffee.

The floral couch (bought in 1994, when our youngest son was only a year old!) is dated and would never meet the current HGTV-driven standards for style.  But it's so comfortable; and it has been a part of our household for so long that it feels like an old friend.  It will have to fall apart completely before I'll let it go, and that goes for its matching loveseat, too.

Aside from the cozy couch, there are other elements here that spark joy for me (as the saying goes). Hanging on the wall behind the couch are all the canvas portraits of our grandchildren at age one (22 of the 23 are represented as of now, and #23 will go up to join the rest at the end of January when she celebrates her first birthday).  On the other nearby wall is a glorious plaster Marian wall hanging that I found in a giveaway pile at the back of our parish church in NH many years ago and lovingly restored with some glossy white paint.  Hanging from Mary's hands are a couple of Rosaries (we call our living room the "Rosary Room," after all!)--and one of them is a beloved souvenir from our trip to Rome in 2019.  The beautiful plate below Mary, with one of Raphael's famous angels on it, is also from Rome.  It's a gift that our second-oldest son brought back for me when he took a trip there with his Dad and younger brother back in 2008. This sweet little corner of my world is filled with reminders of faith and family, and it’s a perfect morning retreat.

I sit here with my coffee, reading or thinking, and praying, but in a way that is more like a friendly conversation with God.  My prayer life has gotten a little more organized recently, however, since I've downloaded the Hallow app on my phone, and I usually listen to that now as I sit in the Rosary Room. These meditative mornings make me acutely aware of how blessed and happy and filled with love my life has been, how little I've been challenged with adversity or illness.  I am so humbly grateful for all I’ve been given, and not a morning goes by that I don't ponder that, and all of life's mysteries, as I sit on my floral couch.

My husband and I don't do much talking right away after we get up, even though we talk SO much throughout the day, about anything and everything.  He's not a coffee drinker, although he tried to become one several times, painfully and without success (we think he might even be allergic to coffee!), so that we could enjoy it together.  (How cute is that?) I on the other hand, love the taste of coffee, the aroma, and even just the routine itself of fixing it; mornings don't feel right without it.  But it's not that I'm too grumpy to talk before I've had my coffee.  It's more that I just crave silence first thing in the morning.  My guy is not that different, actually.  He has his own morning routines, too.  He has always been so much more disciplined than I am about prayers and devotions, and he spends his waking-up time totally directed toward God and the Blessed Mother. (I actually got him a beautiful padded kneeler from Etsy for his last birthday, because he spends so much time at our bedside, on his knees.)  I'm sure the reason we Pearls have been so blessed is because of Him and his deep, tireless, and unwavering  love for the Faith, which he's taught our sons by word and example all their lives.  I am working to become more like him (but I've got miles to go yet).

Anyway, I'm definitely a morning person.  Even when I've stayed up too late the night before, I have no desire to sleep in the next day.  If I'm blogging or writing, cleaning or sewing, or trying to accomplish some other household task, like organizing a closet, I'm at my most productive in the morning.  Physically and mentally, those early hours of the day are when my energy is at its peak.  But I also love the late-night hours...when it's quiet, dark, and peaceful.  (Do you notice a pattern here?)  It's during those hours in between early morning and late nighttime that I sometimes lose my mojo.  If I keep moving all day, I'm fine and can get a lot accomplished; but if I sit down in a comfy spot in the afternoon or early evening, to read or watch TV, chances are pretty good that I'm going to doze off.  (I tell my husband that I'm like a shark: I've got to keep moving or I'll die.  Or is that an old wives' tale about sharks?)

In the years since he retired, my husband and I have been attending daily Mass together, which is at 8:30 a.m. at our parish here in VA.  It's a routine I've come to cherish, but it's harder for me than for him, more of a sacrifice (how dramatic that sounds!  And now you know just how weak I am!).  It's not the early hour that's the problem, because by the time we leave for church I've been up for at least two hours already; it's that I've always loved puttering around my house at that time of day.  I'm such a homebody, it's ridiculous.   I often wish that the Mass time was a bit later.  But it's been good for me, and for my faith life, to be pulled away from my home each morning to visit the Lord in His. I think God is nudging me to think less of myself and more of Him.  And as time goes on, it keeps getting easier and easier to walk out our door at 8:00 a.m.

It's so interesting to me how different we all are, and what makes people tick.  I have a darling daughter-in-law, a mother of triplets-plus-one, who thinks sleeping in is the ultimate luxury--til noon or after, even, if she can ever pull it off; but I just can't do that, unless I'm actually sick.  What about you?  Are you a morning person?   A night owl?  Both, or neither?  Do tell.

My Mom’s “Precious”

 

Today would  have been my late mother’s 90th birthday, so she is very much on my mind.

I just love this photo of yours truly with my older brother, the eldest of Mom’s five children, and my younger sister, who is the “baby” of our family.  (I am the second-oldest; missing from this shot are a brother, the #3 middle child, and a sister, #4).  It was taken at the celebration of life we had for our mother after her funeral Mass in March.

Here we are, apparently sharing some private joke, per usual—most likely some ridiculous comment delivered by my older brother, who is hilarious.  He and I are only sixteen months apart in age, and we've been good buddies all our lives.  He always, always makes me laugh.  He is a hard-working, deep-feeling guy who has zealously embraced the vocational roles of husband, father, and grandfather; he is deeply devoted to his Catholic Faith and his beloved family; but he is also just plain silly, in the best possible way.  Just so, so funny. And we all jokingly call him “Precious,” because of course he absolutely was that to our mother.  Her firstborn baby, the one who made her a mother.

This photo was taken on one of our worst days, when we were mourning our recent devastating loss.  But what a testament to the job she and our dad did, raising us to rally together and lean on each other in our suffering—and to find joy in each others’ presence even during the saddest of times.  I think my mother would be overjoyed to see us looking so happy together like this on the day of her funeral. 

Thanks, Mom and Dad, for the greatest gift you ever gave us: siblings!   And also, thanks for always having a sense of humor about life.  You sure passed that trait on to your firstborn, your Precious, and he keeps us laughing.

Introducing The Boy in Blue

Over the summer, I wrote and published a short novel--and when I say short, I mean very, very short. More of a glorified short story, really.  This latest book (most likely my last book, because I'm not exactly a spring chicken anymore!) is not nearly meaty enough to be called a true novel and is technically a novella, which is defined as a work of fiction that is between 17,500 and 40,000 words.  My humble little book has a word count of about 20,500 and is only 78 pages long (although for some reason, the publishing site I used, Bookemon, lists it as 80 pages--not sure why).  I mean, it's even a bit on the short side for a novella!  To tell you the truth, I can’t recall ever having heard that term, before I finished up this book and went online to see if I could call it a novel; it sounds like some kind of fancy, made-up word.  But it's a real word, I assure you.  

If you're a fast reader, you could probably knock this slim little volume out in one sitting.

I consider it a YA work, suitable for young readers, maybe 12 and up. It’s part historical fiction, part ghost story, and part time-travel tale, with no inappropriate romantic scenes; there's no bad language, and it’s told from a very Catholic perspective, with a message of hope about the power of prayer.  But because it does include difficult themes of war and war casualties, I would advise reading it first before letting a young reader do so.

I fear it was rather silly of me to bother self-publishing this and making it a "real" book. (They call this "vanity publishing." Mea culpa!)  I probably should have just shared it here at the blog in installments, but I wanted to be able to give hard copies as gifts to my kids and grandkids.

The Boy in Blue is available for purchase in paperback and eBook formats at bookemon.com.   HOWEVER, you can read it for free--without even spending a single penny on it. Just click this link to the book’s page on the website, where right next to the "Add to cart" button you'll find a button that says "Read" or "Preview book," and if you click on that you can “flip” through all the pages on your laptop or tablet.  If you use the QR code below, you can read it on your phone (but the print is pretty tiny).

Loop

Like I said, I probably shouldn't have bothered to publish it...I hope God is not displeased that I did this, even though I wrote the story hoping to give glory to Him, using the gifts He gave me to the best of my limited ability.  I tried to go over this manuscript with a fine-toothed comb before publishing, but I’ve found that when I read something I’ve written, my eyes sometimes see what I meant  to say instead of what I actually typed out.  Knowing this, I enlisted a couple of beta-readers to proofread it as well; but we may have missed a typo or two--although I hope not! And I hope that if you do read The Boy in Blue, you'll find some value in it regardless and enjoy it.

Enough about that!  I wouldn’t want this blog post to be longer than the book itself!  😂

Oh, one last thing: I may have some guest reviewers stopping by here at the blog--four beloved granddaughters who are voracious readers and their Grammy’s biggest fans. (I am inordinately blessed, I tell you.)  They received their copies of the book in the mail and all read it cover to cover that same day!  (I told you it was a quick read!)  So stay tuned; some completely unbiased book reviews might be coming soon…

God bless you, dear readers!

To the Heights: Creating a Domestic Church in Your Home

This is the second post in a row with a title that starts out "To the Heights," but it's not like I'm going to make that phrase a trademark of this blog.  I just thought that it absolutely fit last time, when talking about ordinary folks who keep their eyes trained upward, "verso l'alto," as St. Pier Giorgio Frassati put it, striving to reach the top, the pinnacle--which is of course eternal life in Heaven with God.  And I think it fits today, too, when I'm planning to talk about how the home is the family's domestic church, and everything that happens within its walls should point its members toward that same goal of becoming saints in Heaven.

They say that when you're in Rome, you should always remember to LOOK UP!  When I had the extraordinary privilege of taking three trips there (during the later years of my husband's career as an airline pilot, using the free stand-by tickets that were a perk of that job), I tried to always remember to do so.  And I was never, ever disappointed!  The Catholic churches over in bella Roma are just spilling over with so much glorious artwork (masterpiece-quality paintings, gold leaf embellishments, gorgeous statues, ornate metalwork, and intricately-carved woodwork, so much to see everywhere you look) that truly, every inch is a feast for the eyes and a proverbial glimpse of Heaven on earth.  But sometimes, the most beautiful artwork of all is on the ceilings. I have so many pictures of church ceilings taken while I was on those precious trips to the Eternal City.

So often, those breathtakingly beautiful painted church ceilings include areas that are deep blue and dotted with golden stars, like a splendid night sky framed in a skylight window.  It's funny, even long before I ever got to see those ceilings in Rome, I had a hankering to paint the dining room ceiling in our house in NH, where we lived for 26 years and raised our boys.  But I never had the guts.  (And also--Michelangelo I am NOT!)  It never happened, but the desire to have a painted ceiling in my own home was always in the back of my mind.

There's no reason one shouldn't have this sort of ceiling in one's own house, is there?  

Anyway, last May, all of my husband's siblings and many of their spouses met up in Savannah, GA, to celebrate the 60th birthday of one of the sisters.  While there, we attended Mass at the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist.  Oh my...have you ever seen it?  If you have, I don't need to tell you that it's simply magnificent.

And the ornate ceiling includes that element I love so in a church ceiling: areas that look like a star-studded night sky.  As you raise your eyes heavenward, you feel so close to Heaven!

Something about the starry sky thing just speaks to me.  You?

For some reason, looking up while we were in the Cathedral of St. John the Baptist got me thinking about how I'd always wanted to paint a ceiling like that.  As soon as we got back from that long weekend in Savannah, I looked at the dining room ceiling at our house here in VA and was like, Eureka!  It's a tray ceiling, and it had already been painted gray by the previous owners--so it hit me that one might hardly notice a change to blue. I realized that it was almost crying out to become my longed-for starry night sky!

Do you see what I mean?  That was how the room was painted when we bought the house back in 2017, and while I might not have chosen gray myself, I liked it enough to keep it as it was.  But now, in my mind's eye I could see the starry heavens up there in that framed middle section of the ceiling, and I could hardly wait to make my dream a reality.

I actually found a shade of blue called "Midnight Shadow," and I thought it was perfect.  I almost went with a more vibrant shade of royal blue, but ultimately decided that I wanted the change from gray to blue to be a tad more subtle.  Once I had the paint, I couldn't wait to get started!!

I toyed with the idea of stenciling the gold stars, but realized that hand-painting them would probably be way too difficult (and probably messy and disastrous!).  So I went online, and on Amazon I found some affordable self-stick gold stars meant for use on walls. 

 

Attaching the stars to the ceiling was a piece of cake.  But deciding on a pattern took a little more time and brain power.  And math!  I didn't want to just throw them up there randomly, even though that's what the real sky might look like.  I needed there to be some order to it.  I ended up using a yardstick to measure things out, and I made little chalk dots so I'd know where to place the stars.

This was early-on in the operation.

Eventually, it looked like this.

Sorry for all the pictures--I was trying to find the best one because none of them seem to quite do it justice.  It looks so much prettier in person...but you get the idea.

I am over the moon about this dining room ceiling.  I actually had a few pages of star stickers left over that I decided not to use, because I thought it looked "finished."  If I ever change my mind, I can always add more.  It's not exactly St. John the Baptist in Savannah...but this room is part of my very own domestic church (with stained glass in the chandelier, no less!  And a statue of Jesus in a niche in the corner!  And a Crucifix hanging over a picture of the Blessed Mother and Baby Jesus!).  And I love it.

When my husband and I moved here eight years ago, we left behind a large and well-built Colonial house in NH, situated on over an acre of land near the end of a quiet, wooded, cul-de-sac street.  It was a property which we tended lovingly and improved patiently,  DIY project by DIY project, over the years--a home where we happily raised our five boys.  But then all of those boys grew up and moved away, and it just so happened that three of the five providentially moved to the same area of VA.  So we did, too.  Our VA house is a good bit smaller than our NH house (but certainly big enough for two empty-nesters!) and located in a cookie cutter neighborhood, with a postage stamp-sized yard that's a breeze to take care of.  Some might say that we've taken a step down, going from the NH house to this one; but the funny thing is, I just adore this sweet little house.  It couldn't be more perfect for the phase of life we're in.  Obviously, it wouldn't have been an ideal place to raise our sons.  But it's so perfect for the two of us: small enough to keep clean and tidy, very cozy and comfortable, with a giant master bedroom suite that has a ridiculously oversized bathroom (I feel spoiled rotten!) and an upstairs bedroom that serves as an office, something we never really had in our old house.  And even though it's not the biggest house in the world, it somehow manages to hold all of our loved ones relatively comfortably for holiday parties, and we have three different guest bedrooms (one in the basement and two upstairs) set up at all times for our visiting out-of-town sons and their kids.  (Or for the occasional grandchild sleepover!)

I hope that when our our boys come here, they feel God's presence because of the way we have honored Him and His Son and the Blessed Mother in our decor.  I hope that they feel our profound love for them and their wives and children, too, as they walk from room to room, noting that aside from religious artwork, the walls are mostly plastered with framed family photos and meaningful mementos of our long and happy life.  I hope this sweet little cozy cottage of a house feels like a domestic church to them.  I know it does to me.  And as much as I loved--LOVED--those years when all five of our boys lived under our roof, I am feeling exceptionally blessed to have lived long enough to be enjoying these empty-nesting years with my husband now.  You start out just the two of you...then, God willing, you add the children...then they grow up and leave...and you end up with just the two of you again.  And if you not only love but really like your spouse, there's nothing at all depressing about it!  In fact, it’s a joy--a different kind of joy than when your babies were little, but a joy nonetheless.  Yes, the members of the family you created will come to spend time with you--often, hopefully; but it is your marriage that is the rock upon which that family has been built.  Cherish and nurture it.  And keep looking up to the heights! (If it helps, paint your ceiling to look like the starry night sky!)  Because the point of it is to help each other get to Heaven.

God bless you, dear readers!  Thanks for stopping by.

To the Heights: When Ordinary People Become Saints!

It's been weeks since I sat down at my laptop to write. As usual, I've been wondering whether I'm "done." I'm becoming like a broken record, repeating that sentiment here at the blog.  If you've stopped by much over the years, you've probably heard me say that more than once, and it's probably getting tiresome.  Yet I can't help but ponder the usefulness of keeping at it; blogging really is a thing of the past, mostly, and not that many people seem to be writing blogs or reading them anymore.  But this little site of mine has been part of my life for so long now, I feel like I'd be losing an old friend if I let it go to seed completely.  I don't even worry about how many people actually read it.  For goodness sake, when I started blogging more than 14 years ago (with the help of my daughter-in-law, Regina), I didn't even know how to check if anyone had read any of the posts. I didn't care about that one bit.  I certainly never planned to become an Internet "influencer"  (what a hilarious idea!).  When I opened up my dashboard to start today, I was shocked to see that my last post on August 28 had gotten more than 1,400 hits, which is about 1,200 more than a post normally gets.  I can't imagine why that happened...

Anyway--

I have been suffering from my typical recent aridity when it comes to writing anything to post here at the blog.   But it's not because there is nothing important to write about, nothing that I want to say.  The opposite it more like it.  There's just SO MUCH that I want to write about, SO MUCH that needs to be said (and is being said much better than I ever could by other communicators all over the Internet) that I am a bit overwhelmed.  Where to even begin?

There aren't enough words to describe the elation of the September 7 canonization of Carlo Acutis and Pier Giorgio Frassati, two holy young men who are the most excellent role models for modern youth (and for souls of any age, for that matter), followed so quickly afterward on September 10 by the horror of the brutal assassination of Charlie Kirk, a young man who was a strong and effective voice speaking out for the need to save the Christian identity of our country, and who was turning the hearts and minds of so many young people. It's been an emotional roller coaster, hasn't it?

Charlie Kirk was by all accounts a happy warrior, an exceedingly good, kind, generous, and humble man, a friend to all, a devoted husband and father of two young children; and if you ever watched one of his trademark debates with folks who disagreed with him, and saw how he could win every argument without anger--indeed, with a smile on his face--you know that he was an extraordinary person.  When asked once what he hoped to be remembered for, he didn't cite his successful political career as the creator of Turning Point USA, or the fact that he hobnobbed regularly with presidents and other famous movers and shakers; he said that he hoped to be remembered for his faith.  He was an evangelical Christian, married to a Catholic, and in recent months had spoken out about the need to honor and venerate Mary.  I get the feeling that he was going through a spiritual conversion (his good friend, podcaster Candace Owens, said as much on her show in a tribute to him after his death); I think perhaps that Charlie was on his way to converting to Catholicism?...Maybe not, but seeing him talk so reverently about our Blessed Mother was so touching that it moved my husband to tears when we watched it. I can't help but believe that if Charlie had been asked if he was willing to sacrifice his own life to uphold the teachings of Christ, he would have said, "Yes, absolutely."  I feel as if Our Lord welcomed him home with those words we all hope to hear: "Well done, good and faithful servant."  I don't mean to canonize Kirk. But in so many ways, his death feels to me almost like a martyrdom.  May he rest in peace.

About those canonized saints, though...oh my, it's just so exciting.  I don't know enough about Carlo Acutis yet, but as a mother of five sons who grew up loving video games in the 90's, I feel like he is the most perfect saint for young people to emulate.  We need more saints like this: "regular" guys who lead lives of extreme holiness, while living in the modern world and enjoying many of the things our own children enjoy.  It gives one hope that he or she needn't be a priest or a nun, living a life of extreme poverty and prayer in a monastery or convent. One can became a saint, even while living an "ordinary" life. What a great message for all of us!

The other young man who was canonized along with Carlo Acutis is someone whom I DID know a whole lot about before he was canonized: Pier Giorgio Frassati, whom Pope Saint John Paul II called "A Man of the Beatitudes."  The cause for his sainthood was opened in 1932; he was declared venerable in 1987 and then beatified by JPII in 1990.  

Sometime in the early 2000's, I ran across a chapter about him in a book about modern would-be saints called Faces of Holiness, and something about his story really spoke to me.  I immediately went online and ordered a book titled My Brother Pier Giorgio, His Last Days, written by his sister Lucianna, which recounts the last week of his life.  I read and re-read that inspiring book, before ordering others about him.

Books about Pier Giorgio have rested among my other books about the lives
of saints for years now.  I'm so happy that his sainthood is official!

I so loved his story that when I started writing my first novel Finding Grace in 2007, I knew right away that I wanted him to play a part in the story of a young girl who is inspired to become a saint and looks to heavenly intercessors to help her along the way.  But the novel was going to begin in the early 1970's and end in 1980, and Pier Giorgio was not even named Blessed until 1990.  He was not a saint that anyone would have heard much about back in the 70's.  In order to fit him in, I created a friend for Grace who was from an Italian-American family, with an elderly grandmother who'd known him back in the Old Country before emigrating to America.  She had lived in Turin, and her brothers had gone to school with him at the Polytechnic Institute there.  After Pier Giorgio's untimely death in 1925 at the age of 24, people there became aware of his extraordinary holiness and his heroic charitable work among the poor, and they felt that they'd had a saint living among them.  (Only 7 years after he died, the cause for his canonization was opened; it didn't take long!)  Thus was I able to fit this future saint into the book--and indeed, Grace Kelly half falls in love with him, as she gazes at a now-famous picture of him (which the Italian grandmother happens to have and passes on to Grace, conveniently enough!).

Here is an excerpt about him from a post I wrote back in 2014. (In that post, I talk about some other saints first; but this is the section that deals with Saint Pier Giorgio Frassati.)

One day about 12 or 13 years ago, I was flipping through Ann Ball's Faces of Holiness, Modern Saints in Photos and Words (one of the many Catholic works that crowd our shelves), stopping to read the sections that interested me.  This book is filled with short chapters that tell about the lives of different Saints, Blesseds, and Venerables--as well as some people who lived lives of extreme holiness, but whose causes for canonization have not yet begun.  I love to read about modern individuals--average Joes, lay people, married women--who have found the path to sainthood.  It gives me such hope.

It was by reading Faces of Holiness that I first became acquainted with Gianna Molla, who at the time was a Blessed but is now a canonized Saint.  Her story definitely resonated with me.  But I think the whole reason I was drawn to that particular book in the first place was so that I would find Blessed Pier Giorgio Frassati, whose name was completely foreign to me at the time.  I read pages 213-219 (a short synopsis of his heroic life and untimely death), and I was blown away by this handsome young man from Turin, Italy, who died in 1925 but whose body remains incorrupt.  He was for all intents and purposes a "normal" guy: good-looking, fun-loving, athletic; a practical joker who was always surrounded by friends; a student who struggled academically and was a bit of a disappointment to his parents.  He was extremely devout, however, a trait not shared by the rest of his family members, and he was especially devoted to Our Blessed Mother.  He also had a secret life: born into wealth, he gave almost all he had away to the poor (and his family did not even know the extent of his charity until after his death--when it was revealed that unbeknownst to them, there'd been a saint living among them).  I'm not even sure why the combination of photos and words in that book hit me the way they did, but I felt as if I knew him, as strange as that sounds--and I wanted to know more.

Before long I had ordered and read My Brother Pier Giorgio, His Last Days, a memoir written by his sister Luciana that chronicles his last week on earth--his "passion" and tragic death at 24.  It remains one of the most re-read tomes in my personal library, and if you're interested in reading a review I wrote for this wonderful book, click here.  After that, I got my hands on Luciana's other book, a biography titled A Man of the Beatitudes (which I had my youngest son read in 8th grade when we were homeschooling him; because--like JP II, who named him the Patron of World Youth Day in 2000--I can't think of a better role model for a young man to emulate).  It, too, is well-worth the time.  If you haven't heard of this extraordinary young man, or if you haven't read much about him, I highly recommend these two books.  His life story is utterly fascinating and inspiring, and if you do get to know Pier Giorgio better, I believe there's a very good chance that he will become a special friend of yours among the saints.

I admire this young man so much that I had to include him in my novel Finding Grace.  My shy little heroine, Grace Kelly, who is determined to achieve the goal of sainthood while living in the world, is "introduced" to Pier Giorgio (I won't tell you how--you'll have to read the book to find out!), and she becomes enchanted with him to the point of having a bit of a crush, even though he's been long dead.  I had to figure out a way to work some Italian immigrant characters into the novel so that there could be a personal connection between them and this saintly Italian boy, because the story is set in the 1970's and my research efforts failed to turn up the titles of any books that Grace could have read at that time to learn about him.  It took some finagling to figure out a way to have her "meet" him, but it was worth it to me.  I was determined that Pier Giorgio Frassati would be one the many saints whose life is an inspiration to Grace as she struggles to find and stay on the path to sainthood.

I can imagine that I, too, might have felt like Grace about him--if at 15 I hadn't yet met the true man of my dreams: the boy who would become my husband, the boy who made crushes on other males forever a thing of the past for me (and the boy who was my main inspiration for the character of Grace's love interest, Tom Buckley).  And I think if more young girls would ignore the Justin Beebers of the world and swoon instead over men like Pier Giorgio Frassati--men of exemplary character, moral fortitude, and deep faith--there would be a lot fewer heartaches.

I have yet to receive any special sign from this special friend of mine, and yet I feel a deep bond.  I urge you to learn more about this holy young man who will one day be numbered among the saints.  (This link is a good start, if you'd like to read about him.)

This photo of Pier Giorgio scaling a high mountain is representative of his earthly life, which was a constant striving to reach the goal, the summit: eternal life in Heaven.  The caption he wrote on it is quite apropos--"Verso l'alto" (Toward the top).  With the help of saints like him and so many others, may we also reach the summit.

Carlo Acutis' life ended at 15; Pier Giorgio Frassati's at 24; Charlie Kirk's at 31.  Their lives are a testament to how much good such ordinary--and yet extraordinary--people can do in this world, even if their time here is very short. 

God bless you, dear readers!  And don't ever lose hope, no matter how grim things seem.  Verso l'alto!  

Saints Carlo Acutis and Pier Giorgio Frassati, pray for us!