Just Over Here Bragging about My Baby

On Monday of this week, my husband and I returned from a week-long road trip to TN to visit our youngest son, his wife, and his two adorable little daughters (aged just-turned-one and about-to-turn-three).  So of course the youngest of our five boys--our baby--is very much on my mind right now.  How I wish he lived closer to us so that we could see him and his family on a regular basis!  Saying goodbye after a visit really stabs at my poor heart.  (This of course goes for his oldest brother, too, our firstborn, who's a two-day trip away in WI; but today, at least, this post is dedicated to son #5.) I am well aware that a mother's heart can be much more violently pierced by suffering than mine has ever been, God having thus far spared me any truly heartrending tragedies; but still, it pains me to have two of our boys living so far away from us.  My husband and I cherish every minute we get to spend with them.

I adore this boy of ours.  He was born an "old soul," in ways, and spent much of his childhood wanting to catch up to his older brothers.  We had our first four boys in a span of four years and three months; then just about exactly five years after son #4 was born, our youngest joined the team.  There was a bigger gap between sons #4 and #5 than there was between #1 and #4!  And that gap must have seemed far too wide to son #5 for many years, because those older brothers were his heroes, and he wanted to follow directly in their footsteps.  He wanted to be counted as one of the "big guys."

Well, that long-awaited day did come, that's for sure. I told you that he was five years younger than his next oldest brother; well, he got married five years after that brother did.  They were both 26 years old on their wedding days.  Do you see a pattern here?

And now, like the brothers he always looked up to and admired, our baby is also a father; and like them, he has embraced this role whole-heartedly.  It was a delight to watch him interacting with his little blond angels last week, snuggling them, reading them stories, and tossing them on the bed in a game which his father used to call "Sack of Potatoes" but which in their household is known as "1-2-3!"

Our baby with his babies.

These kids, these two young parents, are in a phase of life that's challenging and difficult, trying to manage a lot of moving pieces at once.  Our son is working hard to make his freelance business a success, and his helpmate works as an accountant from home (mostly) while the girls are at a sitter's house nearby.  We were happy to be able to take care of our two darling granddaughters while Mommy and Daddy were working from Monday through Friday, and we enjoyed daily outings with them--to the park, to the Discovery Center, and to the zoo (twice!).  It was a tiring week for Papa and Grammy, but in the best possible way.  And we know how much our son and his wife appreciated having us around.

The almost-three-year-old kept randomly telling us, "I'm glad you're here."  We were glad we were there, too.  Very, very glad.

Since we've been home, I've been doing a little bit of organizing in our office.  I am a collector of photos and paperwork, a scrapbooker, an archivist of memories who has an enormous amount of trouble throwing away anything with the least bit of sentimental value.  I realize that when I die, my poor children are going to have to wade through all of my boxes, storage bins, and trunks of memorabilia, and they are going to wish I'd culled through it all while I was still here.  I get these urges to stop hanging onto the past and just start throwing things out, finally. But then I come across some of the old letters I've kept, or the emails I've printed out and put into plastic pages in three-ring binders for safekeeping...and I realize that my kids will probably be stuck with the task of doing the culling after all, because I just can't do it yet!

For instance, here is a treasured email that I received way back in 2016, from someone who worked for a Catholic publishing company. At the time, I was still a pretty regular blogger and often posted book reviews at String of Pearls. The young gal who sent it had found my name as a possible book reviewer in a random search, but then after doing some digging was amazed to realize that she'd been on a date with my youngest son, when she was a junior at St. Mary's College out in South Bend and he was a senior at Notre Dame.  The world is so much smaller than we realize!  I've made some redactions for privacy's sake, but I thought I'd share the first page of this email here today.  Partly because of the way this girl speaks about my son (it brings a tear to my eyes, all over again!); and partly because it's a testament to the fact that we all touch the lives of others in the course of an average day in ways that we might never be aware of (and therefore, imagine how many souls might be affected by our interactions over the course of an entire lifetime!).

She went on to offer the opportunity to review one of her company's titles and gave me a list of choices, etc. It was all business after that touching paragraph that involved my boy.

I will always be so grateful for the random Google search that led to this beautiful, unexpected message, one that moved me profoundly.  If this girl hadn't emailed me to request a book review, I would never have even known that she'd gone on a date with my son. I never heard anything about this date from him. (Moms of boys, you know how good they are at giving all the deets.  NOT!)  So I treasure this small peek into my son’s story.  I feel privileged to have knowledge of it--to hear that the kind and respectful way he treated this girl (whom I will never meet in this lifetime, I'm sure) on their one and only date made a huge impression on her and changed her life for the better.

And that boy who was about to graduate from Notre Dame in 2015 is now a married father of two little girls.  When they grow up, they will know what to look for in a husband, because they will have their dad as a model: "a Godly and genuine young [man]...seeking truth."

Yes, dear girl, I AM a proud mama.

I always have been, and I always will be.  

#ihavethebestboys  #itsjustthetruth  Does that sound like I’m bragging?  I suppose I am, dear readers.  

P.S.  In my last post, I showed you a little birthday gift that I was working on for my granddaughter.  I believe it was a success, if this picture of her playing with it is any indication. 

Until next time, God bless you and yours!

Saints Everywhere I Look

I was sitting in my living room this morning, listening to the Hallow app, doing my morning prayer routine, and soaking in my surroundings with feelings of utter peace and contentment. Every wall, every tabletop in this room is decorated with reminders that our goal here on earth is to one day become saints in Heaven.

There are framed pictures of the Sacred Heart of Jesus and the Immaculate Heart of Mary hanging above the loveseat, vintage prints that I discovered a few years ago buried in a box of paperwork in the basement of my husband’s a childhood home and was given permission by his siblings to take and cherish.  There is an icon of the Blessed Mother and Baby Jesus hanging above the bay window, a souvenir that my husband brought home from a trip to the Holy Land, back when he was working as an international commercial pilot. And there is a statue of Our Lady of Fatima, which he purchased on a working trip to Rome, up high in a place of honor in a corner niche. Not to mention a little brass sign that reads "Rosary Room," because this is the quiet place where we often say our Rosaries.

You might think that some of the framed artwork and photographs in this room have nothing whatsoever to do with sainthood or our beautiful Faith, but there you would be wrong.  There is a trio of lovely botanical prints on the wall above the loveseat, gifts from our oldest son and his wife.  But they aren't just special because they're beautiful to look at; these prints are from a shop which many of you Catholic blog readers will recognize,  Rose Harrington, and each of the five flowers depicted on each print represents a different mystery of the Rosary.  (We have prints of the Joyful, Sorrowful, and Glorious Mysteries, but the shop sells the Luminous as well.) There's also a sweet framed photo of my husband holding our newborn oldest grandson, with me peeking over his shoulder, emblazoned with a quote about the importance of grandfathers--a gift from son #3 and his wife.  Again, this picture reminds me of life's ultimate purpose--not only because grandparenthood is an unequaled joy and privilege, but because I'm confident that my husband, a man of deep commitment to practicing and living out his Faith, will be a saint one day. Hanging on the wall above the couch are canvas photo portraits of all of our grandchildren at age one, but again: I expect that these beloved children will one day be numbered among the saints.  That's what I think of when I look at those precious faces.

I have added a few saints to the mix this past week. On the little table in the bay window of the living room, I have placed small framed portraits of two heavenly helpers about whom I knew very little before they wove their way into my fictional stories but who have become dear friends to me: St. Gertrude of Nivelles (patron saint of cats, among other things), to whom I dedicated Marguerite's Diary; and St. Barbara (patron saint of field artillerymen), to whom I dedicated The Boy in Blue.  I also have a small framed cross-stitch image of Our Lady of Knock that means the world to me, for two reasons: because it was handmade by a beloved 12-year-old granddaughter and given to me as a Christmas present; and well, because that apparition of Our Lady took place in Ireland, and I love all things Irish (dontcha know!).

Saints everywhere I look, that's what I see when I sit in my living room.  [Sigh...]  Someday, I hope to see all of them together, in person--the great canonized saints and my own humble string of Pearls--in the glorious presence of Our Lord.

We're off to TN to morrow for a week or so, and I will probably be too busy enjoying my two wee granddaughters to think about blogging.  See you on the other side, dear readers.

The Joy of Gift-making

Although it is not my first love language, I do so enjoy gift-giving; but I enjoy it most when I've been able to come up with an idea for something hand-crafted or homemade.  The love language in which I am most fluent is time spent together (and that one is pretty much tied with expressing love for others through acts of service), so it makes sense that making gifts is so much more satisfying and fun for me than buying them. Homemade gifts truly do become labors of love, and my thoughts are focused so much on the recipients as I work on them.

(That's not to say that there haven't been store-bought gifts that have given me great joy to give; I'm just saying that, in general, making them is preferable to me.)

We are going out of town in a few days to visit our youngest son and his wife and two daughters.  Both his 33rd birthday and his baby's first birthday happened in January; and his older daughter will turn three in early March; so we are bringing along gifts (and a cake) and will be celebrating all three of them while we're there.

Our darling almost-three-year-old granddaughter loves to play with little animals and dinosaurs, "small stuff" as she calls these kinds of toys.  (I actually blogged about this recently in post called "Not-So-Small Stuff.")  She already has miniature sets of zoo animals, farm animals, and dinosaurs; so when I asked what she might like for her birthday, our son advised me that perhaps a set of miniature woodland creatures would be appreciated.  Grammy had them ordered within a few minutes of receiving the Amazon link from my boy.

Manufacturing plastic animal toys is well beyond my skill set; but I decided that perhaps I could fashion some kind of play mat to use with them.  At Michael's, I got a 9x12" canvas stretched on a wood frame, and with the help of  acrylic paints I proceeded to create a small landscape for my granddaughter's small creatures to inhabit.  Once I realized that I had to throw the idea of "perspective" out the window and remember that this humble little canvas isn't going to be hanging in an art gallery, it was smooth sailing. And oh, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed making it!

The hippo and elephant can hang out at the watering hole, while the zebra walks down the dirt path...

The monkey can climb into the trees, the lion mountain can climb onto the rocks, and the cheetah can be restrained inside a zoo fence...

And although it is not an ideal size for them, larger toy animals like this thirsty elephant can make good use of this play mat, too...

I'm also stitching up twin dresses for those two precious little birthday girls, but I've got some work to do yet. (I got sidetracked by that painting project mid-way through my sewing project!)  I'm trying something new, mixing two different (and not necessarily coordinating!) floral fabrics.  I hope the end result will be pretty, but we shall see...

My goal is to finish the dresses in time to bring them along on our trip to TN, and I'll try to get a picture of my granddaughters together, modeling them. 

I'm glad I have so many indoor hobbies to keep me busy, because I sure don't want to be outside.  It's been SO COLD here in VA--this is the coldest, snowiest, iciest winter we've had since we moved here in 2017. When we left NH, I thought we would no longer have to deal with these frigid Northeast-style temperatures, and I feel like I've been tricked!  But that's a story for another day!

Speak your love languages loudly, dear readers.  And have a  great week.