Christmas Cheer (An Instagram Post...but on My Blog!)

I'm not on Instagram anymore.  My husband and I deleted our accounts a few years ago, and I haven't missed it.

Oops...I've just begun this post, and I've already told two lies. Mea culpa.  

Truth be told, I'm back on Instagram (as is my hubby), as of just recently.  But only because our youngest son is working on a short film project for his Master's program, and he's posting about it on there, and we don't want to miss any of those pictures and videos.  So that takes care of lie #1.

Even though I’m back “on,” I'm not really planning to post on IG, or to collect followers (L to the OL!); I'm just planning to stalk.  But not too much.  Over-stalking was one of the main problems I had that led me to give up all my social media accounts in the first place.

Okay then, what's lie #2, you ask?  I said I haven’t missed Instagram...but that's not true, because sometimes I do.

I miss some of my favorite Catholic "influencers" (hello, @elizabethfoss!).  I miss the awesome recipes and the gorgeous home decor ideas, and even the pop-up ads, believe it or not. (I am amazed by how Instagram seems to know exactly what kind of clothes I like to buy and wear.  It couldn't be that social media sites are tracking my every move...could it?)  But I am saving money, now that I don't see all those ads for things I never knew I wanted or needed.

Anyhoo--here are some pictures I might have posted on IG, back when I was a prolific IG poster (but certainly not an influencer!).  I just like how my house looks when it's decorated for Christmas, so I thought I'd share.  If I knew how to make a blog link-up, I would make one and have you show me pictures of your Christmas decorations.  (But in this new, rapidly changing world where even Instagram will probably soon be obsolete, does anyone even remember blog link-up parties?)

May you enjoy your social media accounts without over-stalking (you’re probably better than I am, dear readers). And may your Christmas season be merry and bright!

Insta Inspiration

Every now and then, my daughter-in-law Ginger (wife of son #2) takes a screenshot of an Instagram post she thinks I would like.

I deleted all my social media accounts at the beginning of 2021, and while I don't miss Facebook and Twitter a bit, I do sometimes miss Instagram.  Ginger knows that I am a recovering Instagram addict who doesn't want to go on a scrolling binge, but that I miss certain people on the site--and I miss them terribly.  So she likes to keep me a little bit in the loop. There are so many wonderful writers on that platform who provide keen insights, helpful advice, and Faith-filled inspiration for women, and one of them is mother of nine, grandmother, homeschooler, writer, and Internet "influencer" Elizabeth Foss.  (If you don't know who she is, you should look her up.)

Here is a recent Elizabeth Foss Instagram post that Ginger texted me a few days ago, with this note: "a little Insta inspiration for this Wednesday morning."  

 

Inspiration indeed!

It's hard for me to describe how much I love this essay on the value and dignity of stay-at-home motherhood.  I remember hurtful comments over the years, even by several people close to me, not-so-subtly insinuating that the only reason I didn’t have a job was that my husband made so much money that I could be spoiled and lazy and “do nothing.”   (I think some pictured me spending my days lounging on the couch, eating bon bons while I watched soap operas on TV.  Seriously!)

The sacrifices my husband and I made were not apparent to anyone on the outside looking in, because we didn't talk or complain about them.  We made them freely and joyfully, believing that our household would not run as peacefully and efficiently as it did if I tried to work outside our home while raising our boys.  I am not judging those moms who do work; some have to, for financial or other personal reasons, and I applaud the sacrifices they make for the good of their families.  But fortunately, we could make the choice to live on what my husband made--in certain seasons, it was paycheck to paycheck, but even then it was doable.  So we did it, and we never regretted the decision we'd made to have me concentrate my energies on keeping the home fires burning.  

My life’s work might not have looked like much in the eyes of the world.  But this gem from Elizabeth Foss says it all: “So much of what is valuable about your life is done in secret.”

Wow.  That is the most profoundly true statement.  Beautifully put. Some people have the gift of arranging words so perfectly that you want to reread them just to enjoy their beauty.  Elizabeth Foss is one of those people.

I do sometimes miss Instagram, especially when I read posts like this one.  Keep those screenshots coming, Ginger!

Have a great weekend, everyone.  

Oh, Hey There!

Remember me?

Testing...testing...is this thing on?  (Lame joke.  Sorry.  Even at my best I was not the most top-notch of bloggers, and now I'm about as rusty as I've ever been.  So bear with me.)

I haven't been here at the blog since Mother's Day, May 9--yikes, that's over two months ago!--which I believe makes this just about the longest hiatus I've ever taken since I published my first post back in March of 2011.

I wasn't really worrying that anyone was missing my blog presence too much, and had actually started kicking around the idea of never coming back at all.  This is hardly a must-read site for many, so I figured I could just let it sort of die a natural death and move on to other things (and other people: my life is so full of grandchildren--lucky me!--that most of my days seem to be as busy as when I was a much, much younger mom raising much, much younger boys).  

I mean, I know that my baby sister misses me when I'm not here, as does my hubby and a couple of my boys and my daughters-in-law (and even some of their young friends!  Ha--that was interesting to find out!).   But I'm not exactly Kendra Tierney, or Jenny Uebbing (a favorite of mine who has also mostly left the blogosphere as of late, but more about Jenny in a bit).  I'm not trying to be self-deprecating here, just stating the facts.

Many--make that most--of the Catholic writers I "met" through their blogs have left this quickly-becoming-anachronistic platform for the more popular online world of Instagram.  These would include talented gals like Grace Patton  and Rachel Balducci.

I can understand the lure of the Insta-posts: they're mostly about the pictures, with minimal writing required; they take a fraction of the time to compose and are easily perused by busy readers. I was on Instagram for about six years and thoroughly loved it.  I found so much inspiration there, so much joy and humor, and even so many facts about our beautiful Faith of which I was unaware.  Actually, I might have loved Instagram too much, and might have been a little too thrilled by the occasional "like" or comment from one of the aforementioned superstar Catholic "influencers."  After our big move from NH to VA in 2017, instead of working on making new real-life friendships, I went to Instagram to visit with my eFriends, and I really did feel as if I had a community there.  I had a hard time imagining an Instagram-free life.  But ultimately, my husband and I both made the decision to delete our social media accounts this past year, for a number of reasons (which I won't go into again, because I wrote all about that here). 

I said good-bye to Facebook and Twitter and Instagram; but blogging was the one thing I felt I couldn't give up.  Not yet anyway.  And apparently, I still can't!

I have so many things I've wanted to write about in the last few months: my mother's three-week visit with us and her many Pearl great-grandchildren in VA in May, when my sainted youngest sister and her hubby dropped her off so they could take a much-deserved extended vacation in their RV; 

our week-long family vacation at our Oyster Haven Vrbo house in Upstate NY earlier this month, when four of our five sons and 12 of our 17 grandchildren were gathered together for fun at the lake;

my husband's and my 45th high school reunion (#highschoolsweethearts) a couple of weeks ago, where I learned that one of my male classmates has been checking in here and wondering why I haven't been blogging (this was a surprise to me!);

some good books I'm reading and planning to read that I'd love to tell you about...

These are all subjects I'd like to tackle, along with some thoughts about detachment as my 63rd birthday fast approaches. I've had a major case of blogger's block since May, but perhaps I can get back into a groove, now that things have quieted down up here by the lake--after a very busy, noisy, and joyfully chaotic start to the month, when so many members of the enormous Pearl clan were sharing this house (my husband's childhood home) with us.  It's just us now, this guy and me.

It's a perfect boating day, so I think I'll sign off now. But before I do, I wanted to share a link to a very moving recent Mama Needs Coffee blog post by Jenny Uebbing.  She has been for many years a prolific writer, blogger, and Instagram influencer, and is indeed a household name in the Catholic online community.  But although she still blogs sporadically, her social media work has taken a definite back seat to her much more important career of full-time motherhood to a brood of six adorable youngsters.  (A thought-provoking post of hers a while back, in fact, was one of the catalysts for my own exodus from social media.)  This line from the post in particular struck me as profoundly true, especially in the context of the selfless, repetitive, seemingly thankless tasks a woman who works exclusively in the home performs daily out of love for her family, without payment or the world's recognition:  Jenny writes, "I feel a little bit like I've discovered the secret to happiness.  But it's such a deep secret that it's possible no one will believe me.  It's this, though, in case you were wondering: give your life away." (Do yourself a favor and read the full, beautifully written post here.)

That's it for today.  The lake calls.  But I'll be back soon...I hope!

Getting off the Grid (Sort of...)

Over the past week or so, I deleted my Facebook, Twitter, LinkedIn, and Instagram accounts.

GULP!  AAAGGGHHH!

It's fine.  I'm fine.

The first two, Facebook and Twitter, were relatively easy break-ups for me. Because of the truly scary privacy concerns I have regarding the tech giants who control them, along with all the angry, bitter political back-and-forth that dominates those platforms (at least on my feeds!), it was actually a very freeing feeling to remove them from all of my devices and know that those familiar icons would not be calling out to me anymore, giving me that hard-to-ignore urge to click and "just look for a minute"...which in turn, more often than not, led me to scroll endlessly when I should have been spending my limited time on this earth doing something more meaningful.

I used Instagram stories to announce my departures from FB and Twitter (because I wasn't quite ready to dump Instagram yet!).

LinkedIn was also extremely easy to leave.  I only joined that site a number of years ago to use it as a way to promote my two Catholic novels, Finding Grace (2012) and Erin's Ring (2014); but even at the beginning I rarely posted anything on there, and I never really figured out how to use that social media tool to its maximum benefit.  I wrote my books during the seven-year period that occurred after more than two decades of being a  full-time SAHM to five boys--beginning when the youngest of our sons started high school, and ending when the grandchildren had started to arrive and the rest of our single older boys started to get married in quick succession.  (I mean, really quick: three of them were married in an 11-month period, between Dce. 2013 and Nov. 2014!!) Once I became a grandmother, I moved beyond the novel-writing phase of my life and entered the SAHG (Stay-at-Home-Grammy) era.  (Ha ha--at my age, perhaps I should just call it the "SAG" era?  But I digress.) And the sad truth is that my books are now out of print--although used copies are still sold on Amazon.  (Luckily, I have a personal stash that I purchased from my publisher a while back, so even if I have lots more grandchildren than I already do, I should have enough to give them all a copy of each book.)  Anyway, the bottom line is that I realized I just don't need to be a part of a career networking site anymore, if I ever did, so farewell LinkedIn.

The only site that was painfully hard to leave was Instagram, where I followed some of the most inspiring, talented, funny, faith-filled Catholic writers and "influencers" (most of them former bloggers whom I'd originally discovered through their blogs), along with a number of beloved family members.  I LOVED Instagram, I won't lie.  But Instagram is owned by Facebook, and as a matter of principle, I felt I needed to make a complete break.  That was the one that hurt.  That was the one site that gave me the most joy and the one I'll probably always miss.

HOWEVER, truth be told, Instagram wasn't really all that good for me, no matter how much I tried to convince myself otherwise.  I spent too much time thinking about what picture I could take for my next post. (Never have I taken so many pictures of the food I was cooking or eating!)  I was scrolling through feeds that led me to other feeds, and then to others, and others...and before I'd know it, I had spent over an hour gazing at the lovely pictures of complete strangers...and sometimes, comparing myself negatively with their curated perfection.  Also, like Facebook, Instagram knew what kind of clothes I liked, what kind of books I read, and it was constantly enticing me to buy a cute lace top or a WWII historical novel that looked like it was right up my alley.  In a way, I'll miss those well-targeted IG ads, because they exposed me to some items that I would never have otherwise found on my own.  But then again, isn't it a little creepy that Instagram knew exactly the kind of things I normally purchased?  Isn't it a little concerning that my online activities are being followed, and noted, by some phantom Internet overseer?

So I said my sad good-bye to IG with this post last Sunday:

I thought it was apropos to go out with a photo of a cup of coffee, a good book, a set of Rosary beads, and a picture of Jesus.  This pretty much tells the story of how I'm hoping to spend the extra time I'll have now that I'm not distracted by what's happening on IG.

I guess I'm kind of off the grid--but I'm still here at my String of Pearls (which turns 10 this March!), so that's not quite true.  I've decided that I'd like to get back into blogging (and that right there is a statement that seems almost as old-fashioned as saying, "I think it's time to bring back VHS and cassette tapes").  Hopefully I'll be blogging more, praying more, and reading more good books.  Sewing and drawing more, too.  That's my plan for 2021.

So I'll be back, dear readers.  And if you have a blog that I used to read, before I got so thoroughly entrenched in the IG world, I may be visiting it more often now.  And when I do, I'll most likely be drinking coffee.

(Please note: I am not judging you if you still enjoy all the aforementioned forms of social media; for me personally, the negatives had begun to outweigh the positives, so I did what I felt I had to do for my spiritual and mental well-being.)

Inspired to Blog Again

This summer, I have decided to rededicate myself to this blog!  I don't know why I felt the need to make that a bold exclamation rather than a simple statement--because trust me, I really don't expect anyone out there in Internetland to be as excited about this not-very-newsworthy development as I am.

But I AM excited, because I miss being here.

I have spent the last few years using Instagram as my main social media fix, writing easy-to-digest blurbs and hashtags on my iPhone to go with carefully selected and filtered pictures...and while it's been fun and interesting in its own way, I have begun to realize that it's not all that good for me, and that I miss actually sitting down at my laptop every day and really writing.

If you follow Jenny Uebbing’s Mama Needs Coffee blog (isn't she the best?), you might have read her recent post titled "He Is Doing a New Thing,"  in which she talks about ditching her other social media accounts and getting back to her first love, blogging (and also working on another writing project about which she is being somewhat cryptic, but which sounds like a book).  What she had to say in this post struck a chord with me.

Uebbing writes, "when I am on Instagram, I literally see life differently. I’ll squint at a funny or terrible toddler episode through a critical eye and consider 'is this good content?' before snapping a picture and freezing a moment and sort of stepping back from the present moment like I’m the creative director or producer of my own life.

When I am the producer of my own life, I am not actually in it, moment by moment. I’m thinking of getting the shot, of capturing the quote. I’m thinking of you guys, of an audience out there, waiting and willing to consume the funny or thoughtful or entertaining content I’m blasting out into the world. And there isn’t anything wrong with that at first glance, right? Except that, for me, it’s constant. It’s not like a well-planned and carefully policed time limit where I indulge in harmless good fun for a set number of minutes a day and then put the phone away, it’s constant.

Is it possible to become addicted to hearing your own voice? That’s how instagram makes me feel."

Yikes, I thought when I read that, I too may have a bit of a problem...

Uebbing also said, "I feel so incredibly convicted that the very nature of the game: the algorithm, the endless dopamine feedback loop, the social positioning and posturing and signaling, is not just benign wasted time, but is actually bad for us."

Okay, it's clear that I do have a problem--and maybe it's time for me to scale back drastically on Instagram, if not completely.  That "dopamine feedback loop" Uebbing references--that high you get when someone likes one of your IG posts (especially someone well-known, an "influencer" whom you admire, with a platform that has thousands of followers)--is addictive.  For most of the years that I've been a blogger, I wrote because I was inspired to and because I loved the process itself, and I seriously never even thought about who would see a particular post, or who would like it; but with Instagram, the insta-gratifiction of all those likes is dangerously seductive. I have craved those Instagram interactions more than I should over the past three years, since our big move to VA from our longtime home in NH. While the pluses of having four out of our five married sons--and all 16 of our grandkids!--close by are countless, as are the blessings, as a shy and introverted sort I have not really made any non-family friends yet in our new hometown.  So I think I've been using my Instagram friendships as a sort of lifeline.  But the fact that I will meet few if any of the people with whom I've become friendly on the site makes it seem a little pathetic that I've been spending so much time there.

So back to the blog it is!  I do this mostly because I love to play with words, to rearrange them and edit them until they sound just the way I want them to.  Sometimes I have something deep and meaningful to say, but more often I'm just here jotting down family memories so that they'll live on for our kids and grandkids long after we're gone.

I decided to clean up my sidebar and make it less crowded with links to products that I endorsed years ago.  I also decided to change my photo.  The one I've been using for ages was taken in 2012, about a year after I started this blog, and I don't look quite that young anymore.  Back then, I had just published my first novel, Finding Grace, and I wanted to look like a writer, so I posed sitting in front of my laptop at my dining room table and my husband good-naturedly took this picture.

Back then, I was 54 and had one married son and wee twin granddaughters.  Oh boy, how things have changed.

This is more how I look now--especially since I have a baby on my lap, which is a near-constant state of affairs (lucky me)!  I'm more of a hands-on Grammy than a writer these days. (This darling little girl is the youngest of our middle son's four children; she's also the youngest of our 16-going-on-17 grandchildren--the latest gem on our ever-lengthening string of Pearls.)

Next month I'll turn 62.  Gulp!  My husband turned 62 today, and I said, "Yikes!  In 8 years, we'll be 70."  I can't wrap my brain around 60, so 70 is going to be beyond weird.  But little people like the one lounging sleepily on my lap in that picture make growing old a lot less painful for both of us.

As far as updating my photo, I decided to choose one where I'm wearing a string of pearls (it seemed apropos).  It is actually cropped from a selfie my husband and I took this Easter, when we got all dressed up in our Sunday best to live-stream Mass at home on TV.  (By next Easter, I hope this quarantine/lockdown era will be a hazy memory.)

Anyway--

Happy Birthday to that handsome guy there, the one I fell in love with in 1973, and the one with whom I'll celebrate 40 years of marriage this December.  It's been a great ride so far, and I wouldn't want to be on it with anyone but him.  (Also, I know he will be happier than anyone that I'm going to try to blog regularly again, because he is my most ardent follower and biggest fan, and he is not biased in the least!)

Ciao for now!

Beating the Coronavirus Blues (through Art!)

I am aware that I am luckier than many during this difficult stay-at-home period, and for that I feel extremely grateful.  I am an incurable homebody, never happier than when I'm hanging out with my hubby in our home, which has always felt like a sanctuary to me during every stage of our almost 40-year marriage—from the first tiny, humble apartment we lived in as newlyweds to the sweet cookie cutter Colonial we inhabit now, in our empty-nesting golden years.  We’d almost always rather cook our own meals than eat out, so restaurant closings aren’t stressing us out much at all (other than the worry that so many of them will probably be put out of business if this goes on much longer).   I have a plethora of hobbies and interests to keep me occupied inside the cozy and comforting walls of my own house—reading novels, sewing, drawing and painting, blogging, working on DIY projects, Netflix binge-watching with my guy—and even cleaning (yes, I admit it: I actually like to clean my house!).   And I don’t need to constantly interact with lots of people—in fact, having “nothing” on my social schedule is usually right in my wheelhouse.  To quote my introverted youngest son and what he said of himself and his bride of less than a year, I, too am "eerily well-equipped for quarantine life."  

But it’s one thing to choose to stay at home, and quite another to be forced to—especially when you’re not sure when things will ever return to normal.  The stress caused by fear and uncertainty about the future can be oppressive at times.  When I need to “get away from it all” and chase the coronavirus blues away, nothing does the trick better than spending a few hours messing around with a blank piece of paper and some colored pencils.

During Holy Week, talented and well-known botanical artist Katrina Harrington (of @roseharringtonart) hosted a #prayandpaintwithRH challenge, with a different bloom for each day, chosen specifically for its timely and meaningful religious symbolism.  I didn't participate every day of that week; but I was able to get two drawings finished and posted to the Instagram hashtag link-up.

Here was Wednesday's offering, featuring a yellow flower called St. Johnswort:

Along with the above image, I wrote this: "I cannot feel anything but happy and peaceful when I break out my colored pencils and get the creative juices flowing.  I spent the last few hours in a state of near euphoria, forgetting all about the world's problems and focusing on creating this picture.  @katrinaharrington is a gifted botanical artist.  I am not!  (Obviously!)  But my first love has always been drawing and painting faces.  So along with this weak rendition of St. Johnswort, named after St. John the Baptist, is the face of one of my wee granddaughters (also a weak rendition, because her perfection cannot be duplicated by an amateur artist like her Grammy!).  St. Johnswort is also called Christ's Bloody Sweat, because the red ends of the many stamens of this flower resemble drops of blood."  (You learn so much about flowers, and all the beautiful religious symbolism attached to them, if you follow Katrina!)

On Easter, the chosen flower was--what else?--a Resurrection Lily, or an Easter Lily.  I was not able to complete my artwork in time for the link-up on Sunday, so I posted it on Easter Monday:

Here's part of what I wrote to go along with this colored pencil drawing: "Here is my best effort at a Resurrection Lily, a beautiful bloom that symbolizes Our Lord's triumphant victory over death (alleluia!); and because I can't seem to create any piece of artwork that does not include a face, it is paired with a drawing of a baby that was inspired by one of my precious grandsons on the day of his Baptism.  It seemed fitting to show a tiny Christian on the day he was reborn through the sacrament and made a member of Christ's mystical Body alongside a flower that is  symbol of Christ's glorious Resurrection from the dead, by which we were saved and given the hope of eternal life with Him in Heaven."  Then I thanked Katrina for her #prayandpaintwithRH challenge, which in my case turned out to be "a true balm for the soul."

Holy Week is over, but I still feel like drawing babies and flowers, two of God's most glorious creations...so perhaps this will continue to be my way of finding peace and joy, until the worst of this current crisis is past, our churches are reopened, and life starts to make sense again.  

I hope you have a lot of babies, and a lot of flowers in your life...because they can both really help beat the coronavirus blues, can't they?

Social Media and the Thief of Joy

In my last post, I discussed how dangerous the comparison game can be: how it can rob us of peace and tranquility, making us feel inadequate and unlovable; how it can make us forget that each of us is made in the image and likeness of God, with an immortal soul that is unique and beautiful and worthy of love; how we were all made exactly as we are meant to be, warts and all (yes, we all have them--and that's okay!).  Why do we look at others around us and feel like we don't stack up?  Why do we think, If I was just [prettier, smarter, thinner, more talented, more outgoing--you fill in the blank] than I am, I would be [happier, more successful, more confident, a better mother, more beloved--fill in the blank again]?  Maybe you don't do this, but every now and then I do, and I know it's a terrible habit that I need to break.

I've struggled with this off and on throughout my life.  For instance, in this 1978 photo of my husband and me, taken at a friend's wedding when we were going into our junior year of college, I can remember comparing myself to the other females at the reception and wishing I looked like anyone but me.  I'd gained the freshman 10 and then added another 10 my sophomore year, decided to cut my hair short and regretted the change, and was wearing an extremely unflattering dress.  And there he was, my matinee idol boyfriend, so handsome I could hardly look at him without becoming breathless.  What did he see in me, anyway? I wondered.  I could be so hard on myself!  And why?  This guy loved me!  He could have discarded his high school girlfriend for someone "better" when we went off to college in different parts of the country, but our long-distance relationship was still going strong after two years of mostly being apart.  (We had no Facetime, but wrote lots of letters!)  2020 Laura, 39 years into an extremely happy marriage to the good-looking guy in this picture, wishes she could tell 1978 Laura to lift up her head and smile with confidence, secure in the knowledge that he wanted her just the way she was.

At the end of that last post, I hinted that I would be back to explore the topic of comparison further, focusing on how social media has made the habit of comparing ourselves to others even more of a problem than ever before.  So here it is, another post just days after the last one!  (Is blogging back?!  Maybe not, but I am.  And thanks to all the nice readers who left sweet and encouraging comments for me last time I was here.  I was feeling the love--and I finally got around to replying to all of you wonderful people.)

I don't know about you, but I find that I am sometimes left feeling a bit blue after too much time spent scrolling through Facebook feeds.  It's not just that Facebook has become a popular platform for uncomfortable discussions about politics and countless nasty anti-religion/anti-life memes; it has, but there is also plenty of positive news, daily, about family and friends, some of them long-lost before the advent of social media--not to mention all those wonderful photos of loved ones that you might not otherwise see.  There is so much good to be found there, no doubt about it.  But there is also so much bad.  And some of what is bad comes from looking at all the good and worrying that in comparison to what you're seeing, you or your life is "less than."

Jenny Uebbing, one of my favorite Catholic wordsmiths of all time, touched on this topic in her recent Instagram stories, admitting that sometimes after ingesting too much social media she comes away asking herself questions like Why can't I get up early and work out? or Why aren't my kids X,Y, or Z? or Why doesn't my house look like that?  She went on to talk about the danger in this--how social media is really just two-dimensional, and how it gives us a 40,000-foot view of other people's lives (I'm paraphrasing here, trying to remember exactly how she put things), so we're not really seeing the whole picture. I realize that deep down, everyone probably knows this about social media; they know that people usually only post the good and the beautiful, the uplifting aspects of their lives, not the dark struggles they might be going through at the time. (Because I don't care how blessed you are, let's face it: no life is ever lived without trials and tribulations, without sadness, fear, and loss.)  I mean, there's nothing wrong with wanting to share mostly the best portions of your life with the online world.  But this can also lead people to compare, and then to feel down because their lives don't seem nearly as bright and sparkly as those light-filled images and upbeat captions they see--even though they know in their heart of hearts that these images and captions don't tell the whole story.

The other danger about comparing our lives to the Facebook and Instagram feeds of others, Uebbing observed, is that we're not all at the same point in life at the same time, and it's harmful to compare our lives to those of people going through completely different stages than we're going through.  How true is this?!  You might feel like you're drowning right now, with a houseful of crazy toddlers and demanding babies, or a couple of angsty teens, and find yourself worrying about how your children are going to turn out and wondering how things will look 10 or 20 years from now.  Then you'll see a picture of a family you know, showing the kids all grown-up, happy, and successful; and without even knowing you're doing it, you might start to feel like  maybe you're a failure as a parent, even though you're not seeing all the many difficult stages that family went through as they traveled the bumpy road you're currently on to get to where they are now.

You can do this in reverse, too, which is what I sometimes do; I see all the wonderful things young Catholic Instagram mamas are doing with their children, how they're creatively celebrating the different liturgical seasons and the feast days of the saints, and I'll worry that I didn't do enough to help instill the Faith in our boys back when I had the chance. When I do this, I'm comparing a grandmother who is now at a stage decades ahead of these moms, a mother who did her very best at the time and shouldn't waste her time on regrets, and it seriously makes no sense.  Especially because although my husband and I had to deal with our share of challenges and certainly made a lot of mistakes along the way, we somehow managed to raise five terrific sons who are still practicing Catholics, are in sacramental marriages with lovely young women, and have given themselves over to the will of God as far as how many children they will have.  Somewhere along the way, I guess, we must have done a few things right.  (Or maybe we're just incredibly lucky.)  So looking back and wishing to change anything that we did is an exercise in futility.  As my late mother-in-law (who quite successfully raised four sons and four daughters) used to say, "If you change one thing, you change everything."

Who would change this?

Or this?

As a mother, you can't help panicking just a little when your kids grow up and leave the nest for the first time, wondering if you've done all you could to prepare them for life; this certainly happened with me.  Danielle Bean describes those feelings better than I ever could in this Instagram post I stumbled upon recently, written as her daughter was getting ready to leave for college:

"We tend to pause and doubt...Did we say all the things?  Teach all the lessons?  Read all the stories?  Say all the prayers?  Did we do all the stuff?...Was it enough?  I can look back now and see that we did a lot of things, but it was not enough.  It is never enough.   We always fall short.  But God knows what he is about...We all fall short, but the gaps leave room for God.  And he fills them with grace."

I love that!  God fills in the gaps!

It's hard enough to think you're doing a good enough job raising your kids without the added pressure of seeing how everyone else is doing it, all the time, all over social media. I am so, so thankful that there wasn't that kind of added pressure when we were raising our boys!  I think it must be tougher for my daughters-in-law to feel they are "enough" (and believe me, they are MORE than enough!), when everyone is online, over-sharing, presenting a picture that makes it look like they have it all together, all the time.  Some young moms can handle it just fine, taking it for what it is and not letting it affect their confidence and peace of mind; if I was just starting out now in the motherhood game, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be one of them.

I think this post has gone on long enough, so I'll just wrap it up by saying that even when I catch myself succumbing to the dangerous practice of comparison, I simultaneously feel like the luckiest and most blessed woman on God's green earth and know that I wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's.  So why do I ever waste even a single moment of this precious time allotted to me wishing for even one aspect of it to be different?  My mother-in-law was spot-on: if you change one thing, you change everything.  If I had been a different sort of person, or if even one thing had happened differently along the way, I might not be where I am today.  And that is the LAST thing I would want.

So here is what I'm going to strive to remind myself, whenever I start to compare myself to others and feel "less than": You are God's precious child.  You are perfect as you are--which is not to say that you are perfect, because the only human being for whom that adjective is true is the Blessed Mother; but you are the person God meant you to be, with the looks, talents, and temperament He gave you to use to use wisely and well, in order to make your way back to Him and become a saint in Heaven.

Teddy Roosevelt's famous quote bears repeating: "Comparison is the thief of joy."  Truer words were never spoken.  If checking Facebook or Instagram too often leads you to let that cruel and conniving thief rob you of your joy, take a break from social media for a bit.  Instagram is a mostly positive force in my life; but even so, I'm thinking of doing just that for Lent.

INSTAGRAM GIVEAWAY: A Signed Copy of Erin's Ring

I am currently running a giveaway on Instagram.  On July 25, I will randomly pick the winner who will receive one signed copy of my YA novel, Erin's Ring.

If you're interested in entering to win, you can go to my Instagram feed (where I go by @laura.h.pearl) and find this recent post.  (I also have a tab on the sidebar here at my blog's home page that will take you right over to my IG account.)

Erin's Ring was published way back in 2014, and I haven't been as good at promoting and marketing the novel as I could/should have been.  It is a book that I never thought I'd have time to write, as my family was beginning to grow by leaps and bounds right around the time that my publisher, Cheryl Dickow of Bezalel Books, approached me with an offer to fund a second novel--one that would be appropriate for younger readers than my first novel, Finding Grace, which was published by Bezalel in 2012.  All I could see ahead of me were the weddings of my sons (one of whom got married shortly before I finished writing the book, and one shortly after) and the imminent births of new grandchildren.  I was also suffering from some strange symptoms which turned out to be caused by hypoparathyroidism, and I had to have a non-malignant parathyroid tumor removed from my neck. We hadn't moved down to VA to be near our married boys yet, and I knew that I would be doing a lot of traveling from NH for all the upcoming family events.  I had no idea how in the world I was going to be able to write a novel (even a relatively short one) in six months' time, with all that was going on in my life and in the Pearl clan.  I am a wife/mother/Grammy first, always and forever, and the role of writer takes a back seat to those vocations.  But somehow, I got it done.  And not only that, but I wrote without panic or stress, in a state of almost complete joy.

I can only attribute this almost otherworldly happiness I experienced while working on Erin's Ring to the Holy Spirit, who was definitely working in me bigtime.  I almost turned down my publisher's generous offer, for fear that my life was just too busy and I wouldn't be able to concentrate properly and meet the requisite deadlines.  Left to my own devices, I would have said no; but during that whole time I was trying to figure out what I should do, my husband's faith in me never wavered.  Even knowing how I sometimes suffer from an extreme lack of confidence, he convinced me that I could do it.  I prayed.  I prayed hard, very much aware that if I turned down this amazing offer, there would most likely never be another opportunity like it for me. And once I signed the contract, the first thing Cheryl did was to take it with her to Adoration, to pray for the success of the book while in the presence of the Blessed Sacrament.  (With a start like that, how could I doubt that I had made the right decision?!)

Of course, we all know that true success, the kind that is pleasing to God (the only Book Reviewer whose opinion matters at all!), is not measured by the world's standards.  By worldly standards, my poor little novel has not had a very good run--despite being the recipient of two Book Awards from the Catholic Press Association in 2015.  But I do believe that it can do some good in the world.  And that's what convinced me to have this giveaway, hoping that a copy of Erin's Ring will find its way into the hands of the very reader who needs it, who might be inspired or edified by it.

Thanks for stopping by, dear readers.  And if you do decide to enter the giveaway contest, may the luck of the Irish be with you!

A Holy Thursday Reflection

I may have two published novels out there, but I don't think of myself as an exceptionally talented writer.  I'm not even the best writer in my family.  I am related to people, by both blood and marriage, who absolutely blow me away with their ability to express the thoughts and feelings that live in the deepest recesses of the human soul--and express them far better than I ever could.

I'm not trying to be self-deprecating here about my writing ability (although self-deprecation is kind of my trademark move); I think I've been able to use a God-given talent for manipulating words to become a decent storyteller.  But a gifted essayist I am not.

This past week, I have been reading some deeply moving commentaries about the recent fire that nearly destroyed Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.  So many writers whom I admire (people whose accounts I follow on Instagram, mostly) have been eloquently putting into words exactly how that tragedy made me feel, and these words have often brought me to tears.

@simplelifemusings had this to say about the tragic fire: "It is the beginning of Holy Week.  This does not feel like a coincidence.  The week that the world was redeemed through suffering and death.  It is the story that resounds with the most fundamental stirrings of the human soul that there is hope in the darkness, that we should not be afraid.  God's triumphant love wins.  And Our Lady, handmaid of the Lord, Mother of Divine Grace, Seat of Wisdom, Morning Star, Undoer of Knots, Refuge of Sinners has once again shown us the way."

Then there was this from @smallthings.gr8love, along with a picture of the large cross inside the cathedral that survived the conflagration: "Beauty rises from the ashes.  As the cross stands in the midst of fire and destruction, so does our faith."

From @catholicallyear, there was this: "We Americans hear so often that Europe, and especially France, has lost interest in her Catholic heritage and her Cathedrals and relics.  As utterly devastating as it was to see Notre Dame de Paris in flames yesterday, it was a gift to the world to see that story disproven.  It was beautiful to see priests and firefighters risking their lives for the art and relics that are such a part of our shared Catholic faith and history.  The people of France in their grief, being comforted by coming together in prayer and in hymn was a lesson to the world of how relevant our faith is.  I look forward to us coming together to rebuild this landmark of Catholicism for ourselves and our children."

I read so many other tender Instagram reflections on the symbolism of this event and the importance of resurrecting this iconic French cathedral--a beloved monument that is so important to Catholics all over the world--from the ashes.

I gave up Facebook as one of my Lenten sacrifices this year--in part because it makes me waste too much time, time that I should be spending on more important matters; and in part because some of the posts I see on there--shared memes being the usual culprits, especially ones that denigrate the Catholic Church and its faithful--tend to make my blood boil.  Scrolling Facebook, I believe, has become an occasion of sin for me, so I figured it was better to give it up and stick to the much more inspiring offerings on IG.

Well, for some perverse reason, I broke my Lenten Facebook fast for a short time today.  I felt guilty for being so weak...but then I stumbled upon an exchange that made me believe that perhaps I was meant to give in to this sudden urge to see what I'd been missing.

I figured the Facebook friends who aren't exactly fans of religion in general and Catholicism in particular would have some upsetting things to say about the Notre Dame fire, and sure enough, they did.  Here is a tweet that was shared that caused an almost physical reaction when I read it; I mean truly, it made my heart hurt. "Speaking as a Catholic here...please don't donate to help Notre Dame.  The Church is worth $30 billion. Donate to help Puerto Rico recover.  Donate to get the people of Flint clean water.  Donate to get kids out of cages.  Jesus didn't care about stained glass.  He cared about humans."

Blood temperature rising...because all I could think was that this self-proclaimed "Catholic" was probably pro-choice, too, judging by the liberal tone of her tweet, and didn't she wonder if Jesus cared about those little humans growing in their mothers' wombs?  (Unfair, I know; maybe she was a pro-life advocate and I was completely misjudging her.)  Then I thought, why is it assumed that Catholics who appreciate the physical beauty of churches--the houses of God--are not also concerned with helping the poor and suffering throughout the world?  Doesn't this person know that faithful Christians are more generous with their time and money when it comes to giving aid to the needy than any other demographic group on earth?

I was angry; my brain was on fire, and if I'd written a comment myself it would not have been calmly thought-out.  Luckily, I saw that one of my sweet daughters-in-law had left a comment on this post that said what needed to be said perfectly.  I thought it was brilliant, and I wanted to share it with you here.  My brave-hearted girl wrote, "There's no reason someone can't do both [donate to rebuild the cathedral and help others in need].  But to be fair, when you behold something as epic and grand as a cathedral, like that of Notre Dame, it ignites a spiritual fire within you.  It reminds you that there is something so much greater than you and that the majesty of God is beyond beautiful.  It's those moments that remind you to see outside yourself and remind you to look to others and help them, and sometimes move you to tears.  Since the fire of Notre Dame, people have been inspired to not just donate to Notre Dame, but to black churches here that were burned from arson.  This woman [who wrote this tweet] is seeing this from a very myopic perspective and fails to realize that by helping to restore a religious masterpiece, Notre Dame will continue, hopefully for centuries to come, to inspire Catholics around the globe to be in awe of God's presence and feel motivated to do more for their fellow man as well."

I could not have said it better--that girl can write!   And I believe God wanted me to see her beautiful comment today, to be reminded that even though the world sometimes appears to be an unsalvageable mess, the younger generation of Catholics who are raising their children right now are the hope of the future.  Their faith will move mountains--and rebuild cathedrals.

Before being burned at the stake for her faith, Joan of Arc famously said, "Hold the cross high so I may see it through the flames."

St. Joan of Arc, pray for us!

May we all continue to see Jesus' Cross and appreciate the enormity of His Sacrifice and His love, no matter how high the flames grow or how hot the fire gets.

Everyday Mary, Our Mother

Hey, look at me!  I tore myself away from Instagram long enough to write a blog post!

Speaking of blog posts, I used to read Camp Patton all the time, back when Grace spent more time there than she does on IG.  Yesterday I decided to visit her blog and see if I'd missed anything, and I noticed that she's not posting at the Camp more than about once or twice a month these days, so I'm in good company.  ("Laura, are you ACTUALLY putting yourself in the same company as Grace Patton?!?!"  You're right--the nerve!)

Grace had this to say in her Jan. 30 post: "I remember long ago when someone predicted Instagram would kill blogs I feigned a horrified-hand-to-chest move because I didn't think it would ever be possible but welcome to 2019, Grace No Foresight Patton."  [A quick aside: that right there is an example of the sharp and witty writing style that made Grace one of the superstars of the blogging world.  It's no wonder her followers are legion.]

Anyway, if you're still here (if you haven't jumped ship to check out the offerings of all the Grace Patton-quality blogs that are still up and running, or to scroll through the easier-to-digest mini-posts that make Instagram so enticing!), I thought I'd use this Sunday post to talk a little bit about one of my favorite subjects: Our Blessed Mother.

For ages now, I've wanted to get a Kitchen Madonna statue to have on the counter in the room where I spend about 75% of my life.  We've always had plenty of images (both statues and pictures) of Mary around the house--Our Lady of Fatima, Our Lady of Grace, the Immaculate Heart, etc.  But no Kitchen Madonna.  That is, until one day last week when I decided to do a little eBay browsing...and look what came in the mail yesterday.

Isn't She just the sweetest?  [Insert heart-eyed emoji here.]  This is a used resin statue, but in mint condition (and it was a good bit cheaper than a new one would have been, not to mention the seller's offer of free shipping!).  I love that Mary is shown wearing an apron.  Aprons are my favorite--just ask my boys!  (Actually, don't, because they'll just make fun of their mommy.)

Today while I made my husband's Sunday brunch, I wore my "fancy" one--my "Little Black [Dress] Apron" with pearls on it--over the Sunday best frock-and-jacket combo I chose for Mass.

I am the worst at posing for fashion shots; and my husband is a really, really good sport.

Okay, I guess as long as I'm posing here in all my fashion-forward glory, you could call this a "My Sunday Best" post (although I'll have to check to see if Rosie is hosting this link-up today; she is, after all, about to give birth to baby #7!).  I have given this same adorable black apron to each of my four daughters-in-law, usually at their wedding showers.  If that seems like a sexist sort of gift to give a girl--"Here, you're going to be cooking a lot for my son, so you're going to need this!"--I didn't mean it to be.  And I do realize that most gals don't don an apron every time they approach the kitchen, like I do.  But this one had pearls on it...and they were about to become Pearls...so it seemed like a good idea at the time.

(BTW: This is by no means a sponsored post, but if you like this apron and just HAVE to get one for yourself, you'll find it here at Bed, Bath, & Beyond.)

(Also BTW: HOURS after our eggs and bacon had been consumed, I was still wearing my apron while I sat in my recliner watching HGTV with my husband....so I guess I deserve all the teasing my sons want to give me.)

But back to my new little Kitchen Madonna: another thing I like about Her is that She's holding a broom.  (My husband teases me about my love of vacuuming--but if I'd been a housewife in Mary's time I would have been the "mad sweeper" rather than the "mad vacker," as he likes to call me.)

Aside from the apron and the broom, I love that Jesus is reaching his arms up to be picked up by His mom.  What a sweet reminder that Mary was a mother to Jesus, that He was Her little boy, and that She spent Her days doing the kinds of repetitive, self-sacrificing, seemingly mundane tasks that all women do in the home, for Him and for St. Joseph.  I recently came across a 2013 Our Sunday Visitor article by Marge Fenelon that reflected on this theme, and here is an excerpt:

"We tend to forget that Mary is a real woman, a real wife and mother who walked on this earth, doing all of the things we do, or will do, as moms.  She cooked meals, mended clothing, did laundry, washed dishes, changed diapers, sang lullabies, worried about the choices her child was making, kibitzed with other women, served her husband and child, and went to bed exhausted after a long day of hard work.  Mary isn't a statue and she isn't an untouchable goddess.  She was and is a mother--Jesus' mother in an actual way, and our mother in a divine way."

I think that is such a lovely way to think about Our Blessed Mother: to imagine Her as "everyday Mary," doing ordinary things like sweeping Her kitchen floor or hanging wet clothes on the line, always with Her Son close by.  That's why I'm so fond of a painting known as "The Polish Madonna" or "Mary's Wash Day."  I have a framed copy of it hanging in the hallway right across from the little laundry room in our VA home.

This lovely image is one more reminder to me that there is no task (no matter how menial!) performed with love for my family that is beneath me, because even the most exalted of women spent Her life on earth working day-in and day-out as a housewife and stay-at-home mom.  If it was good enough for Her, how could it not be good enough for me?

I hope it's not too vain of me to perform my household tasks while sporting a fancy, lace-trimmed apron adorned with pearls.  If you know of a more humble-looking, Mary-themed apron out there that I could wear instead, leave me a comment.  (But to be honest, I'm probably heading to Etsy right after I push the "publish" button for this post, now that I've got the idea in my head!)

Bye for now!  (And if you haven't done so already today, call your Mother--or maybe I should say OUR Mother.)

 

Just Checking In

Testing, one, two, three.  Testing...is this thing still on?

I'm pretty sure that I've used that lame joke here before, when I've been away from my little String of Pearls longer than intended.  But you know how old folks are: they repeat their jokes and stories, over and over and over.  And I am 60 now, after all, so I get to do that.

Anyway, I thought I'd just check in to let you know that I'm still alive and kicking.  Just busy living life, that's all.

I know I promised to write part two of this relatively recent post about celebrating our kids' differences, but I haven't gotten around to it yet.  (Shocker, right?!  I haven't been a very dedicated blogger lately, have I?  However, if you want to know what's going on in the Pearl clan, you can always click on over to my Instagram page...because that is apparently my social media home base these days.)

But phew, you guys.  Life is busy, busy, busy!  I know I'm a grandmother and heading into my restful "golden years," where the bulk of the hard work of raising a family is behind me...but it seems that in some ways, I'm busier than ever!  I mean, if I really think about what a typical day was like when our boys were all living under our roof, in school and playing sports, I know that things have slowed down considerably and my calendar is a lot less filled with reminders about practices, games, dentist and orthodontist appointments, etc. etc. etc.  (My grocery bill is also most definitely smaller!)  But still...

For instance, yesterday my husband and I watched three of our granddaughters for several hours while our oldest son and his wife took one of their girls (and their two-month-old son who is nursing exclusively and therefore can't be left with us yet) to an appointment.  So this is what our basement looked like.

These three cutie pies were reading books that belonged to their daddy and his brothers, making forts out of chairs and bean bags, drawing, and playing with our massive collection of Lion King toys (most of them saved from when our boys were young).  We not only have a whole slew of different toys from the 80's and 90's that I couldn't bear to part with (even when we were downsizing for the move), because they belonged to our crew; but we also have a lot of new playthings picked up at consignment stores during the year-and-a-half we've been living here in VA.

In case you were wondering, this basement is not finished yet--and still, it is the place all of our grandkids like to hang out when they come to Papa and Grammy's house.  We've had a full bathroom  put in and plan to finish off the rest of the space as soon as we can; but for now, it at least has a vinyl floor, some furniture, and a TV.  Oh yes, and plenty of toys!

When I look at these photos, it makes me more confident than ever that the move we made in the spring of 2017 was a smart one.  To be able to be involved in the day-to-day lives of our 13-going-on-14 grandchildren (whose parents miraculously all ended up settling in the same area of the country!) is the most wonderful gift imaginable.  We feel extremely blessed.

As you might know if you come here often, we started out our life as grandparents back in 2011 with the arrival of our firstborn's identical twin girls. In August of 2017, our fourth son's wife gave birth to triplets--two boys and a girl.   Here they are at a photo shoot to celebrate their first birthday.

Son #4 and his wife decided to have DNA testing done on the boys because they looked so much alike.  And it turned out their hunch was right: they are indeed identical.  Isn't that crazy?!  We have two sets of identical twins in the family.  As the triplets' mom, Braveheart, warned her sisters-in-law: Pearl women, watch out!  You might be next!  :)

Now that I've helped you to forget all of the bad things going on in the world these days (because who could look at that picture of the triplets and do anything but smile?!), I'm going to sign off and get ready to do a little visiting with these three doll babies and three of their sweet cousins who live near them.

Bye for now!