The following conversation took place while tucking Murray in last night.
Murray: Mama, are there houses in heaven?
Me: Yes, Murray, God has a place for all of His children, because He loves us all SO much.
Murray: Grandma Kathy tickled my feet.
Me: She did? When?
Murray: When I was sleeping one day. I giggled.
Murray: I just wanted to know if there were blankets in heaven.
Me: Yep, there sure is! God has lots of fluffy blankets just for you!
Murray: Will He have my white blanket?
Murray: Mama, are there animals in heaven?
Me: You bet, Mur! There are lots and lots of animals.
Murray: How come?
Me: Because God loves animals and people, just the same. In God's eyes, we're all perfect.
He created everything on earth with lots and lots of love.
Murray: What happens when you get to heaven? Are there games? Are there toys? What about
houses? Will our house be there? Can we play in heaven? Do people still love us in
heaven?
Me: Yes, Murray. Heaven is a much better place that anything here on Earth. And, God has a
Huge Kingdom for all of us to live together. Isn't that great?
Murray: What about songs? Are there songs in heaven?
Me: Yes, in heaven, everyone sings with joy, because they love God and heaven so much.
I relied on my Catholic upbringing and blind faith to get through this conversation. More devout Catholics than I may have chosen to answer his questions differently, and honestly, my Catholicism is a work in progress.
I love that he's curious. I just wish I had the perfect answers. Like I said, I'm a work in progress.
Good thing he's going to St. Joseph's in the fall. I might have to join him.
Showing posts with label Catholicism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Catholicism. Show all posts
It's Official - We Have a Preschooler
Yesterday, Craig and I took the plunge and enrolled Murray in preschool. Today, I received the call that there is room for him. He starts in September. When did my baby grow up?
I cried. Shocker, right? In case you didn't know, I'm an emotional person. I cry. A lot.
Anyway.
I'm not excited about this decision.
Our daycare provider is so fabulous, I don't even know if I have words to describe her. She was the first person I inquired to about daycare when we found out that I was pregnant. She didn't have an opening at the time, but we waited. Waited impatiently. We just knew how awesome it would be to put Murray in her care. When she called to tell us that she had an opening, we were thrilled.
Not only does she take better care of Murray than we probably do, but she teaches him - letters, numbers, manners, respect, the list goes on. Murray has absolutely THRIVED in her care. She goes above and beyond, too. She is solely responsible for him being potty trained at the age of two. Or, when a few months ago, after Craig completely botched Murray's hair cut, she took the time to even it out and make it look nice. Murray refers to she and her husband as his other Grandpa and Grandma, that's how much he loves them. She is the "child whisperer". She makes him feel secure and loved, proud and confident; all of the things that we strive for Murray to feel and be.
And then there's the fact that he spends the day growing up with his cousin, who is only five days younger than Murray. The two of them are attached at the hip, and yeah, they fight, but they're also best friends.
So why make the change? To tell the truth, I am against putting Murray in preschool. I don't feel that he needs it. I know I sound boastful, but the kid is pretty dang smart. He does simple addition and subtraction, is learning to write the alphabet, and shows all the signs of reading readiness. He's a social butterfly and gets along well (for the most part) with others. He knows the days of the week and what a month is.
This is where Craig and I disagree. I'm no expert, but I do know a bit more about education for young children than he (and he knows way more about math and computers than I will in ten lifetimes). Still, Craig feels it's important for him to go to preschool, so I caved. In September, Murray will attend St. Joseph's Catholic School from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday. Sniff.
As much as he loves his daycare, he's already talking about what he'll do at "schoouh" and carrying around a backpack and telling us he's leaving for "cwass" to "yearn" (maybe at least they'll help him with the "L" sound). Clearly, I'm the only member of this family who isn't ready to have a preschooler.
The one thing we do agree on is that he attends Catholic School. It's important to us. Our parish, St. Joseph's is an amazing place. We love it there, and know that Murray will thrive in such an environment.
We're thankful for everything that our childcare provider has done for us. We have been truly blessed. I'm glad we still have several months left with her. It will be a big change for us, but hopefully, by September, I'll be on board. Right now, I'm just not there.
Newborn Murray
I cried. Shocker, right? In case you didn't know, I'm an emotional person. I cry. A lot.
Anyway.
I'm not excited about this decision.
Our daycare provider is so fabulous, I don't even know if I have words to describe her. She was the first person I inquired to about daycare when we found out that I was pregnant. She didn't have an opening at the time, but we waited. Waited impatiently. We just knew how awesome it would be to put Murray in her care. When she called to tell us that she had an opening, we were thrilled.
Not only does she take better care of Murray than we probably do, but she teaches him - letters, numbers, manners, respect, the list goes on. Murray has absolutely THRIVED in her care. She goes above and beyond, too. She is solely responsible for him being potty trained at the age of two. Or, when a few months ago, after Craig completely botched Murray's hair cut, she took the time to even it out and make it look nice. Murray refers to she and her husband as his other Grandpa and Grandma, that's how much he loves them. She is the "child whisperer". She makes him feel secure and loved, proud and confident; all of the things that we strive for Murray to feel and be.
And then there's the fact that he spends the day growing up with his cousin, who is only five days younger than Murray. The two of them are attached at the hip, and yeah, they fight, but they're also best friends.
Skating at night with their headlamps
So why make the change? To tell the truth, I am against putting Murray in preschool. I don't feel that he needs it. I know I sound boastful, but the kid is pretty dang smart. He does simple addition and subtraction, is learning to write the alphabet, and shows all the signs of reading readiness. He's a social butterfly and gets along well (for the most part) with others. He knows the days of the week and what a month is.
This is where Craig and I disagree. I'm no expert, but I do know a bit more about education for young children than he (and he knows way more about math and computers than I will in ten lifetimes). Still, Craig feels it's important for him to go to preschool, so I caved. In September, Murray will attend St. Joseph's Catholic School from 8 a.m. to 3 p.m. Monday through Friday. Sniff.
As much as he loves his daycare, he's already talking about what he'll do at "schoouh" and carrying around a backpack and telling us he's leaving for "cwass" to "yearn" (maybe at least they'll help him with the "L" sound). Clearly, I'm the only member of this family who isn't ready to have a preschooler.
The one thing we do agree on is that he attends Catholic School. It's important to us. Our parish, St. Joseph's is an amazing place. We love it there, and know that Murray will thrive in such an environment.
We're thankful for everything that our childcare provider has done for us. We have been truly blessed. I'm glad we still have several months left with her. It will be a big change for us, but hopefully, by September, I'll be on board. Right now, I'm just not there.
St. Gianna's Maternity Home
Saint Gianna Beretta Molla was canonized in 1962 by Pope John Paul II. She was a loving mother of four, who gave her life to save her youngest child. She was diagnosed with a painful tumor while pregnant. Had she endured the surgery necessary to save her life, her baby would have died.
From St: . Gianna, "I renew the offering of my life to the Lord. I am ready for anything as long as my baby is saved."
The ultimate sacrifice.
Read more about St. Gianna here. And here.
Stay with me please, I do have a purpose.
Years ago, my late Mom was transferred (for work) to a small town in northern ND. I visited her often, and my route from Moorhead, MN to Grafton, ND, led me through the tiny town of Warsaw, ND. While driving through Warsaw, I always admired the Catholic Church of Stainslaus.
Each time I traveled through Warsaw, I couldn't help but notice a vacant brick building directly across the street from the church.
Here it is:
Several years ago, Mom related to me that this building was being converted into a maternity home for pregnant women and teens in crisis.
St. Gianni's Maternity Home opened in 2003. Since then, they have helped many pregnant women in crisis. My Mom and I were both in awe at the generosity of the sisters and staff who opened this amazing place.
Recently, I felt the urge to do something to help the families that turn to St. Gianna's, so I decided to start a fundraiser. I realize that we're in a time of economic crisis, but really, even $2 would help.
Recently, I felt the urge to do something to help the families that turn to St. Gianna's, so I decided to start a fundraiser. I realize that we're in a time of economic crisis, but really, even $2 would help.
Some suggestions, according to the website: Cleaning products, stamps (for postage), household items (i.e. toilet paper, plastic baggies (any size), paper towels, paper plates, etc..
That said, I would really like to be able to send these moms, babies, children, and staff a few gifts for Christmas. It could be gift cards, a gently used toy, gently used clothing, pesonal items, or anything else you can think of. Anything would be appreciated.
Please contact me with questions or comments. I would love to hear from you. You can find me at marie.beckerleg@gmail.com or 218-329-2268.
A picture of a room for a babe and his/her Mom:
All Talk and No Action: Abortion vs. Adoption
Note: This post may be offensive to some. I will not judge you, but I will not apologize for my thoughts.
I admit that I can be all talk and no action.
Several weeks ago I discussed joining my friend and fellow blogger and Mom friend, Roxane, on the sidewalk at the Red River Women's Clinic. I wanted to pray and reach out for the people that feel that pregnancy is an impossible situation. So many people would welcome a child into their loving arms, if only the men and women considering abortion would see that there is an alternative. My husband and I are blessed with adopted children in our lives. A friend of mine said recently, "Biology doesn't make you a parent". (Thanks, Kristine.) How very true.
At the last minute, I admitted to Roxane that I was terrified to accompany her on the sidewalk. So, I didn't go with her. I'm ashamed that I was too scared to join her plight, but when we discussed it (via writing) she was incredibly supportive. She understood that I wasn't ready, and encouraged my prayer and thoughts without a hint of judgement. What an awesome person God has blessed my life with. I'm grateful for her friendship.
I will always believe that abortion is wrong; the very thought of it makes me cringe. But right now, I'm praying that soon I'll be able to join Roxane on the sidewalk and have the courage to stand up for my convictions.
-MM
I admit that I can be all talk and no action.
Several weeks ago I discussed joining my friend and fellow blogger and Mom friend, Roxane, on the sidewalk at the Red River Women's Clinic. I wanted to pray and reach out for the people that feel that pregnancy is an impossible situation. So many people would welcome a child into their loving arms, if only the men and women considering abortion would see that there is an alternative. My husband and I are blessed with adopted children in our lives. A friend of mine said recently, "Biology doesn't make you a parent". (Thanks, Kristine.) How very true.
At the last minute, I admitted to Roxane that I was terrified to accompany her on the sidewalk. So, I didn't go with her. I'm ashamed that I was too scared to join her plight, but when we discussed it (via writing) she was incredibly supportive. She understood that I wasn't ready, and encouraged my prayer and thoughts without a hint of judgement. What an awesome person God has blessed my life with. I'm grateful for her friendship.
I will always believe that abortion is wrong; the very thought of it makes me cringe. But right now, I'm praying that soon I'll be able to join Roxane on the sidewalk and have the courage to stand up for my convictions.
-MM
A Taboo Topic (But Not Anymore!)
I'm pro-life.
I have always believed so. I didn't know how much I've believed until recently.
Have you ever had the experience that you are on the outside looking in? Or have you ever just realized something different from what you thought after it happened to you? How has it affected you? What did you do (or would have done) differently?
The reason for my questions is what my good friend, Roxane has inspired me to ask. Peace Garden Mama (a.k.a Roxane) puts abortion into a perspective that I am incapable of writing. I thank you, Roxane, for allowing me to re-post your writing. The words that follow are not my own, but they are poignant and true.
I see hope; the tenacity of a fragile stem ignoring what should be possible, pushing toward light despite the hostile environment it is bound to enter.
This photograph speaks to me in a particularly vivid way right now, especially concerning a recent calling of the heart. Despite my intentions, I've been finding myself lately on the sidewalk in front of North Dakota's only abortion facility. Yes, moi, the gal who always thought her pro-life convictions would be best shared in a "safe" place. Through the written word, for example, or a radio interview, but certainly not as an active sidewalk-counselor-in-training.
About a month ago, I interviewed on our local Catholic radio station the woman -- Elizabeth McClung -- who helped effect the conversion of former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson to the side of life. When I listened to the podcast of that interview a few weeks later, I was jarred to hear myself telling Elizabeth that praying for life publicly "isn't for everyone." I was speaking about myself.
But then Abby came to Fargo and I had a chance to hear her story in person, both from her mouth and through her bestselling book, Unplanned. When I realized Elizabeth's prayers and the flowers and card she had offered Abby two years before her conversion had made a difference, despite many days, weeks and months of it all seeming futile, things changed inside of me. When Abby challenged us to not forget about what she'd shared, and insisted the women seeking abortions needed to hear our voices, I could no longer ignore the still, small voice within me.
Then again I might have, if not for my 13-year-old daughter, who'd also met Abby.
"Mom, can we stand out on the sidewalk again this Wednesday?" she asked a few days before "abortion day," the week following our meeting with Abby. It nearly took my breath away to hear her request, but I recognized the opportunity at once and knew I could not diminish it.
"Sure, let's do that," I said, not quite believing what was happening. Her young voice was rising above the din of my doubts, giving me courage to shoo away my timidity.
"No offense, Mom," she added, "but maybe, because I'm younger and all, I might make more of an impact."
"You know, you could be right about that," I said, not able to deny wisdom as it stared me in the face.
Indeed, her presence could well make a difference. It already had. The week before, as we stood there with the others praying in the rain, a car full of hecklers driving past yelled obscenities at us from our sidewalk perch.
"What was that?" she asked, turning to me. Then, in an impeccably timed moment, she added, "Oh, they must just be jealous of my good hair day."
It's exactly what I needed to decrease the tension and sadness I felt watching one woman after another walk into the facility, knowing she would come out a changed person, and not for the better. As one bumper sticker I read recently says: "Abortion: one life lost, another wounded."
This week I returned without my daughter, who was out of town, and though I'm still a sidewalk newbie, I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know where I can and can't stand ("Don't touch the green carpet!"). I've gotten to know some of the names of the abortion facility escorts; some of whom are very aggressive toward those who've come to pray, others who are quieter, perhaps new like me, just trying to figure things out.
And I've discovered that I'm not content to only pray, though prayer is certainly one of the most valuable things I can do. I've reached out to several of the escorts in an attempt to get to know them. One of them was very receptive this week. I know that everyone, no matter what side of the sidewalk they're on, truly believes they are helping women. But I also know that it can't be the case that taking life is ever a positive, and that I have entered the front lines of a war zone. Lives of the mothers, the babies, and all those who love them are at stake.
I can't completely explain what has compelled me to take up a post on this sidewalk of all the sidewalks in North Dakota, but I definitely feel it as a strong stirring, an urgent call to action, though certainly not one I would have willingly chosen.
Perhaps God has had this in mind for me for a long time, but I've only recently become ready. I'm beginning to think that might be the case. Regardless, I'm becoming bolder. I want to meet the workers of the facility and somehow, in whatever way I can, give them the same sense of hope I've experienced while looking upon a weed that refuses to give up on light
Thank you, Roxane, for touching on a sensitive topic. So many people are unable or unwilling to discuss abortion. I can't preach that I'm an expert. I know I haven't done enough to stop this. But now I can be pro-active. I'm joining my courageous and diligent friend, Roxane on Wednesday on the sidewalk.
Prayers to unborn babies and to the women and men who are confused. There are always options.
If you'd like to see the original post, go to http://www.peacegardenmama.com/
I have always believed so. I didn't know how much I've believed until recently.
Have you ever had the experience that you are on the outside looking in? Or have you ever just realized something different from what you thought after it happened to you? How has it affected you? What did you do (or would have done) differently?
The reason for my questions is what my good friend, Roxane has inspired me to ask. Peace Garden Mama (a.k.a Roxane) puts abortion into a perspective that I am incapable of writing. I thank you, Roxane, for allowing me to re-post your writing. The words that follow are not my own, but they are poignant and true.
I see hope; the tenacity of a fragile stem ignoring what should be possible, pushing toward light despite the hostile environment it is bound to enter.
This photograph speaks to me in a particularly vivid way right now, especially concerning a recent calling of the heart. Despite my intentions, I've been finding myself lately on the sidewalk in front of North Dakota's only abortion facility. Yes, moi, the gal who always thought her pro-life convictions would be best shared in a "safe" place. Through the written word, for example, or a radio interview, but certainly not as an active sidewalk-counselor-in-training.
About a month ago, I interviewed on our local Catholic radio station the woman -- Elizabeth McClung -- who helped effect the conversion of former Planned Parenthood director Abby Johnson to the side of life. When I listened to the podcast of that interview a few weeks later, I was jarred to hear myself telling Elizabeth that praying for life publicly "isn't for everyone." I was speaking about myself.
But then Abby came to Fargo and I had a chance to hear her story in person, both from her mouth and through her bestselling book, Unplanned. When I realized Elizabeth's prayers and the flowers and card she had offered Abby two years before her conversion had made a difference, despite many days, weeks and months of it all seeming futile, things changed inside of me. When Abby challenged us to not forget about what she'd shared, and insisted the women seeking abortions needed to hear our voices, I could no longer ignore the still, small voice within me.
Then again I might have, if not for my 13-year-old daughter, who'd also met Abby.
"Mom, can we stand out on the sidewalk again this Wednesday?" she asked a few days before "abortion day," the week following our meeting with Abby. It nearly took my breath away to hear her request, but I recognized the opportunity at once and knew I could not diminish it.
"Sure, let's do that," I said, not quite believing what was happening. Her young voice was rising above the din of my doubts, giving me courage to shoo away my timidity.
"No offense, Mom," she added, "but maybe, because I'm younger and all, I might make more of an impact."
"You know, you could be right about that," I said, not able to deny wisdom as it stared me in the face.
Indeed, her presence could well make a difference. It already had. The week before, as we stood there with the others praying in the rain, a car full of hecklers driving past yelled obscenities at us from our sidewalk perch.
"What was that?" she asked, turning to me. Then, in an impeccably timed moment, she added, "Oh, they must just be jealous of my good hair day."
It's exactly what I needed to decrease the tension and sadness I felt watching one woman after another walk into the facility, knowing she would come out a changed person, and not for the better. As one bumper sticker I read recently says: "Abortion: one life lost, another wounded."
This week I returned without my daughter, who was out of town, and though I'm still a sidewalk newbie, I'm starting to get the hang of it. I know where I can and can't stand ("Don't touch the green carpet!"). I've gotten to know some of the names of the abortion facility escorts; some of whom are very aggressive toward those who've come to pray, others who are quieter, perhaps new like me, just trying to figure things out.
And I've discovered that I'm not content to only pray, though prayer is certainly one of the most valuable things I can do. I've reached out to several of the escorts in an attempt to get to know them. One of them was very receptive this week. I know that everyone, no matter what side of the sidewalk they're on, truly believes they are helping women. But I also know that it can't be the case that taking life is ever a positive, and that I have entered the front lines of a war zone. Lives of the mothers, the babies, and all those who love them are at stake.
I can't completely explain what has compelled me to take up a post on this sidewalk of all the sidewalks in North Dakota, but I definitely feel it as a strong stirring, an urgent call to action, though certainly not one I would have willingly chosen.
Perhaps God has had this in mind for me for a long time, but I've only recently become ready. I'm beginning to think that might be the case. Regardless, I'm becoming bolder. I want to meet the workers of the facility and somehow, in whatever way I can, give them the same sense of hope I've experienced while looking upon a weed that refuses to give up on light
Thank you, Roxane, for touching on a sensitive topic. So many people are unable or unwilling to discuss abortion. I can't preach that I'm an expert. I know I haven't done enough to stop this. But now I can be pro-active. I'm joining my courageous and diligent friend, Roxane on Wednesday on the sidewalk.
Prayers to unborn babies and to the women and men who are confused. There are always options.
If you'd like to see the original post, go to http://www.peacegardenmama.com/
Yuck
Please note: If you have a weak stomach, stop reading now. I'm only posting this for posterity.
I'm cold, I'm freezing, I'm tired, I'm exhausted. But I'm grateful. Make that blessed, grateful, and happy. We have a roof over our heads, good health, and a sweet-three-year old to love and many family and friends. And of course, the dogs and cat. But I wasn't so pleased with the latter yesterday morning.
We were dressed and ready to go to church (for a baptism that Craig was one of two Godfathers). As I was finishing my own preparations for the big day, I asked Murray to put his boots and coat on. He did so and a couple of minutes later, he came to me saying, "something stinks, mama. Pee-Yew." The smell hit me before I could look. What I discovered was Murray covered in (for lack of a better word) poop. Craig came running (well, not running, exactly, but moving as fast as a broken back will allow) after I began to gag, and together we realized that one of our animals had been sick and had an accident. In Murray's coat. And in his boot. We stripped Murray down, but by this time Craig was late for baptism, so he called the other Godfather to pick him up. In the mean time, I ran around begging our feces-covered little man not to touch anything, while looking for fresh clothes, coat, shoes, and washing my hands every 30 seconds or so. I couldn't find one of his tennis shoes (Rudy hides shoes), so I was frantically shoving his feet into last years' way-too-small shoes. That didn't work, so I was forced to clean the dirty boot, spray it with Febreeze and finally, we headed to church.
The baptism and Mass were absolutely beautiful and we made it in time. I was afraid that our fellow parishioner's would smell the boot, but no one complained, and many giggled when Murray burst into song with the choir.
Due to the weather, one of the Godmothers was unable to travel, so Murray filled in carrying the gifts; poopy boot and all. He was really quite proud.
Everything turned out in the end, and we had a beautiful day with family and friends celebrating Ava's baptism.
Moral of the story? Don't forget to make sure that the cat has access to his litter box. Oh, and always hang up your coat, even if you think it's in a safe place.
I'm cold, I'm freezing, I'm tired, I'm exhausted. But I'm grateful. Make that blessed, grateful, and happy. We have a roof over our heads, good health, and a sweet-three-year old to love and many family and friends. And of course, the dogs and cat. But I wasn't so pleased with the latter yesterday morning.
We were dressed and ready to go to church (for a baptism that Craig was one of two Godfathers). As I was finishing my own preparations for the big day, I asked Murray to put his boots and coat on. He did so and a couple of minutes later, he came to me saying, "something stinks, mama. Pee-Yew." The smell hit me before I could look. What I discovered was Murray covered in (for lack of a better word) poop. Craig came running (well, not running, exactly, but moving as fast as a broken back will allow) after I began to gag, and together we realized that one of our animals had been sick and had an accident. In Murray's coat. And in his boot. We stripped Murray down, but by this time Craig was late for baptism, so he called the other Godfather to pick him up. In the mean time, I ran around begging our feces-covered little man not to touch anything, while looking for fresh clothes, coat, shoes, and washing my hands every 30 seconds or so. I couldn't find one of his tennis shoes (Rudy hides shoes), so I was frantically shoving his feet into last years' way-too-small shoes. That didn't work, so I was forced to clean the dirty boot, spray it with Febreeze and finally, we headed to church.
The baptism and Mass were absolutely beautiful and we made it in time. I was afraid that our fellow parishioner's would smell the boot, but no one complained, and many giggled when Murray burst into song with the choir.
Due to the weather, one of the Godmothers was unable to travel, so Murray filled in carrying the gifts; poopy boot and all. He was really quite proud.
Everything turned out in the end, and we had a beautiful day with family and friends celebrating Ava's baptism.
Moral of the story? Don't forget to make sure that the cat has access to his litter box. Oh, and always hang up your coat, even if you think it's in a safe place.
Home Sweet Home
I just got Craig settled on the couch, although he won't sit still. Imagine that. He's thrilled to be home and thinks he should go blow snow. The doctor made it very clear that he is under no circumstances to work, drive or lift. He can take his brace off at night or for a quick shower but that's it. He is to be on his back and taking frequent but brief walks.
The plan is to see Dr. Eichler again in two weeks for another C.A.T. scan and follow-up check. This should determine if the brace is working or if surgery will be required. He also hopes to return to work in the physical form at that time. Either way, he will have 4-6 weeks of physical therapy after the brace is off and/or surgery (pray no surgery).
In the mean time, I am gong to finish housework so he can move around when he needs to without tripping on anything, and so that I can pull the extra weight while he's on bed rest. I'm sure that Craig agrees with me that pain meds are a gift; the combination of the three help immensly.
I can't send enough thank you's to everyone who has visited, called, emailed, texted, taken care of Murray, and everything else I can't remember at the moment. I know that God, friends and family will get us through. Besides, Craig never lets me take care of him when he's sick, but now he has no choice. Think "Misery"; insert evil cackle here.
Thanks again and blessings.
Craig, Marie and Murray
The plan is to see Dr. Eichler again in two weeks for another C.A.T. scan and follow-up check. This should determine if the brace is working or if surgery will be required. He also hopes to return to work in the physical form at that time. Either way, he will have 4-6 weeks of physical therapy after the brace is off and/or surgery (pray no surgery).
In the mean time, I am gong to finish housework so he can move around when he needs to without tripping on anything, and so that I can pull the extra weight while he's on bed rest. I'm sure that Craig agrees with me that pain meds are a gift; the combination of the three help immensly.
I can't send enough thank you's to everyone who has visited, called, emailed, texted, taken care of Murray, and everything else I can't remember at the moment. I know that God, friends and family will get us through. Besides, Craig never lets me take care of him when he's sick, but now he has no choice. Think "Misery"; insert evil cackle here.
Thanks again and blessings.
Craig, Marie and Murray
Slippery Slopes
Please note: If this post sounds a bit hysterical, it's because I am. Humor me, please.
Last weekend, before the snow hit, Craig and I hung the Christmas lights on the house. All went pretty well, except that when he got to the peak of the roof, he slipped and was hanging from the gutter. Luckily, I was able to brace us both and helped him down before we both hit payment. After the scare, I proclaimed that there would not be lights this year. He agreed.
We had a very nice holiday, though we missed my family members. I even went black Friday shopping and survived with only a scuffle and a bruised shin.
Murray has been asking to build a snowman ever since the first dusting of the hateful white stuff. Today, it was finally sticky enough to go out and build the best snowman on the block. The three of us were rolling snow into different sized balls, when Craig asked me if he should finish the lights. I said no, but Murray replied with an enthusiastic yay! So Craig climbed the ladder and not 2 minutes later, I heard an expletive and looked over to watch him twisting in the air from twelve feet above, and landing in a heap. As terrified as I was, I assumed he had the wind knocked out of him and would be fine when he caught his breath. Three minutes later, that was clearly not the case. He refused medical attention and Craig being Craig, insisted we finish the damn snowman while he laid in the snow in agony. I finally coaxed him out of the heap and into the house, when he promptly asked for pain meds(the man won't even take an aspirin). That was when I decided this was extremely serious and called Troy and Stef, followed by 911. The ambulance was here in less time than it took me to call them, and off he went on a stretcher, away from his hysterical wife and in enormous pain. The entire time, I was a hot mess and Murray was asking Troy if the Paramedics were going to shoot him (too much tv, I say).
Craig spiked a fever at the hospital, and after X-rays and a C.A.T. Scan were performed, it was determined that indeed, his back was broken. The L7 was the vertebrae in trouble. Our hopes are that he will be in a brace for 3-4 months, but surgery could still be required. We'll know more in the morning when the specialist arrives.
In the mean time, he's whacked on pain meds and going to be knocked out most of the night (the doctor said the pain would get worse). I am home with the dogs, and Murray is with family so that I am free to head to the hospital again after a few hours sleep.
Please pray for him, or if you aren't the praying type, positive vibes sent our way would be appreciated. I'll update tomorrow. Have I told you that I hate snow?
Love you honey - see you soon.
Last weekend, before the snow hit, Craig and I hung the Christmas lights on the house. All went pretty well, except that when he got to the peak of the roof, he slipped and was hanging from the gutter. Luckily, I was able to brace us both and helped him down before we both hit payment. After the scare, I proclaimed that there would not be lights this year. He agreed.
We had a very nice holiday, though we missed my family members. I even went black Friday shopping and survived with only a scuffle and a bruised shin.
Murray has been asking to build a snowman ever since the first dusting of the hateful white stuff. Today, it was finally sticky enough to go out and build the best snowman on the block. The three of us were rolling snow into different sized balls, when Craig asked me if he should finish the lights. I said no, but Murray replied with an enthusiastic yay! So Craig climbed the ladder and not 2 minutes later, I heard an expletive and looked over to watch him twisting in the air from twelve feet above, and landing in a heap. As terrified as I was, I assumed he had the wind knocked out of him and would be fine when he caught his breath. Three minutes later, that was clearly not the case. He refused medical attention and Craig being Craig, insisted we finish the damn snowman while he laid in the snow in agony. I finally coaxed him out of the heap and into the house, when he promptly asked for pain meds(the man won't even take an aspirin). That was when I decided this was extremely serious and called Troy and Stef, followed by 911. The ambulance was here in less time than it took me to call them, and off he went on a stretcher, away from his hysterical wife and in enormous pain. The entire time, I was a hot mess and Murray was asking Troy if the Paramedics were going to shoot him (too much tv, I say).
Craig spiked a fever at the hospital, and after X-rays and a C.A.T. Scan were performed, it was determined that indeed, his back was broken. The L7 was the vertebrae in trouble. Our hopes are that he will be in a brace for 3-4 months, but surgery could still be required. We'll know more in the morning when the specialist arrives.
In the mean time, he's whacked on pain meds and going to be knocked out most of the night (the doctor said the pain would get worse). I am home with the dogs, and Murray is with family so that I am free to head to the hospital again after a few hours sleep.
Please pray for him, or if you aren't the praying type, positive vibes sent our way would be appreciated. I'll update tomorrow. Have I told you that I hate snow?
Love you honey - see you soon.
Conversations with Angels
We speak candidly and often to Murray about my late mom, Grandma Kathy. He can recognize her in pictures, knows details about her life, and he knows that she is in Heaven. A recent conversation went something like this (I actually had to write it down so that I wouldn't forget):
Murray: "Look, mama, it's you and Grandma Kathy!"
Me: "Yes, that is Grandma Kathy and mama."
Murray: "Grandma Kathy died? She in Heaven?"
Me: "Yes, Grandma Kathy is in Heaven. Even though we can't see her or talk to her, she
is with God watching over us" (tears well, I start to sniffle).
Murray: "Mama, she an angel. She say it's OK, she told me" (bursts into "Twinkle Twinkle",
which he sings to anyone who is sad).
Me: Speechless, now my tears are flowing freely.
This three-year-old wisdom astounds me. I don't really know if he gets it, but his thoughts and actions are such a comfort to me. I love that he's growing up to be such a gentle, sensitive, caring boy; the angels get all the cr
edit.
edit. I'll leave you with a picture from the first snowfall of the season; a whopping 12.5 inches in less than 24 hours.
Crash!
It's been so long since my last post - I'm not sure where to begin.
Last Saturday, Murray and I were driving home from Story Time at Barnes and Noble when we were in a car accident. Thankfully, all parties involved are fine. It happened right on our street with a neighbor (who was driving the other car).The streets were a slick layer of snow and ice, and the snow banks were so high that we didn't see each other. Anyway, the Grand Am is totaled but the insurance company has been wonderful. We'll pick up our rental today, and then plan to take our time looking for a new or used car. We have the Durango, and since I'm unemployed, we're not in too much of a hurry to find a second vehicle. We have grown accustomed to not having a car payment, so we'll take advantage of that as long as we can. I want an Accord or another Grand Am, but Craig refuses to buy foreign, so I'm guessing we'll find a Chevy or Pontiac that will suit us.
In the mean time, I've picked up a temporary position at a local radio group. I will be filling in for the sales assistant while she is on maternity leave. The gig should last about eleven weeks, and I start on Monday. I'm thrilled to be working with so many friends that I've worked with in the past; it will be a fun way to pass the rest of this miserable winter.
Murray went back to daycare this week, and I thought he would be sad, but I thought wrong. As soon as we walked in, he whipped off his winter clothes, ran up the stairs to hug Lyn, kissed baby Caitlen, and ran off with a quick "bye mama". Turned out I was the one who was sad. He's growing up before our very eyes. Everyday, it's something new. Yesterday, Craig had to volunteer at SAL after work, so we told Murray that daddy had to go back to work. Murray tearfully replied, "No work, Daddy, no work". We all felt terrible, but Murray and I painted to cheer him up. This morning when his sunshine night light came on, we heard a hearty "MORNING!" Honestly, where does he come up with these new words? I just love that he's beginning to put short sentences together. Watching him transform is one of the most amazing, joyous and bittersweet things I've ever witnessed.
I think that's the update; we are just trying to get through winter without going crazy. I've been so forgetful lately - I'm chalking it up to winter dementia. For example, I stocked up on books on Saturday during the Barnes and Noble outing, put them away when I got home and now I have no idea where they are. Our house is tiny, so I just can't figure out where the heck I stashed them! Anyway, I'm off to do some housework, so with a prayer to St. Francis, maybe they'll turn up.
Last Saturday, Murray and I were driving home from Story Time at Barnes and Noble when we were in a car accident. Thankfully, all parties involved are fine. It happened right on our street with a neighbor (who was driving the other car).The streets were a slick layer of snow and ice, and the snow banks were so high that we didn't see each other. Anyway, the Grand Am is totaled but the insurance company has been wonderful. We'll pick up our rental today, and then plan to take our time looking for a new or used car. We have the Durango, and since I'm unemployed, we're not in too much of a hurry to find a second vehicle. We have grown accustomed to not having a car payment, so we'll take advantage of that as long as we can. I want an Accord or another Grand Am, but Craig refuses to buy foreign, so I'm guessing we'll find a Chevy or Pontiac that will suit us.
In the mean time, I've picked up a temporary position at a local radio group. I will be filling in for the sales assistant while she is on maternity leave. The gig should last about eleven weeks, and I start on Monday. I'm thrilled to be working with so many friends that I've worked with in the past; it will be a fun way to pass the rest of this miserable winter.
Murray went back to daycare this week, and I thought he would be sad, but I thought wrong. As soon as we walked in, he whipped off his winter clothes, ran up the stairs to hug Lyn, kissed baby Caitlen, and ran off with a quick "bye mama". Turned out I was the one who was sad. He's growing up before our very eyes. Everyday, it's something new. Yesterday, Craig had to volunteer at SAL after work, so we told Murray that daddy had to go back to work. Murray tearfully replied, "No work, Daddy, no work". We all felt terrible, but Murray and I painted to cheer him up. This morning when his sunshine night light came on, we heard a hearty "MORNING!" Honestly, where does he come up with these new words? I just love that he's beginning to put short sentences together. Watching him transform is one of the most amazing, joyous and bittersweet things I've ever witnessed.
I think that's the update; we are just trying to get through winter without going crazy. I've been so forgetful lately - I'm chalking it up to winter dementia. For example, I stocked up on books on Saturday during the Barnes and Noble outing, put them away when I got home and now I have no idea where they are. Our house is tiny, so I just can't figure out where the heck I stashed them! Anyway, I'm off to do some housework, so with a prayer to St. Francis, maybe they'll turn up.
Update. . .Finally
Emilie's Crew:
Roxane and me:
Roxane and me:
The Cathedral of St. Paul:
The dome of the Cathedral:
The Catholic Spirit, where Emilie worked:
Buca di Beppo:
I can't end the saga of our journey without mentioning Roxane's Aunt Betsy. We met up with her for brunch after Mass on Sunday, and what a thrill it was to meet her. She is incredibly bright, sophisticated, and just all around wonderful. I am so thrilled to have met her! I do hope to get together agian.
The dome of the Cathedral:
The Catholic Spirit, where Emilie worked:
Buca di Beppo:
Note: This is a combined post that I began writing on Monday and have finally finished today.
To my new reader: I'm thrilled that you found my blog and are following my posts. However, I haven't been able to find your comment, so if you be so kind, would you mind commenting one more time? I would appreciate your help. . .I would like to know more about you!
With the weather today, I opted to keep Murray home instead of trying to navigate the wind and roads to daycare even though she did have it open). It turned out to be a terrific day. We played all morning and then we took a three hour nap. Being a stay-at-home mom keeps looking better and better.
I haven't heard about the job yet, but I am praying that the dreaded "you weren't the candidate for us but we enjoyed meeting you" letter doesn't arrive tomorrow and that I will receive the "We think you are perfect for the job" phone call. I'm expecting the former, but time will tell.
The journey, you ask? Here goes:
Roxane arrived at our hotel at about 3pm on Saturday. I was thrilled to see her! From there, we prepared for Emilie's party and arrived at Buca di Beppo right on time (the only time we were prompt for anything that weekend as it turned out). Although only nine of us were all able to gather together, we were a darn fun group. We talked, laughed, cried, and laughed. I can't describe how amazing it was to meet these kindred souls that knew Emilie.I wish I had the words. You will find new links to some of my new found friends' blogs, lutherliz and marketingmama.
On Sunday morning, I woke up a bit late (I didn't even hear Roxane getting up) but we made it out of the hotel on time (or so we thought) to attend Mass at The Cathedral of St. Paul. The problem was that I punched in the address to Buca instead of the Selby Avenue address for the church. After driving past the Cathedral, arriving once again at Buca and turning off the voice that is Tom Tom, we "reached our destination". (after waiting for the slowest train in the history of trains). Thanks to Roxane for trusting her instincts versus relying on electronics.
When I was telling my Grandma Kate about our adventures, she reminded me that she grew up just down the hill of the Cathedral of St. Paul, which is where we parked. I thought it was so neat that we were right there, where my history begins. God was on a mission and it so much fun to discuss with Grandma the area and her childhood (which I'm quite familiar with, but it is awesome to be able to picture her neighborhood).
One of the funniest mements in our travels happenended on the way home. We were looking for a Target, so we took the Wayzeta exit. To the right was a Holiday, but when looking toward the left, we assumed we'd wind up in the business district, therefore, finding a Target. Approximately fifteen minutes later, we found ourselves once again at the Holiday with no Target in sight. Oh boy, did we laugh. We headed back on the "motorway" (tom tom again) and found the Target store in Alex, which Rox is familair with.
I can't end the saga of our journey without mentioning Roxane's Aunt Betsy. We met up with her for brunch after Mass on Sunday, and what a thrill it was to meet her. She is incredibly bright, sophisticated, and just all around wonderful. I am so thrilled to have met her! I do hope to get together agian.
UPDATED: January 27th, 2010:
I've been slacking again. I'm not sure what is causing my writer's block this time, but there it is. Nothing much has occured in the Beckerleg household since my Monday post (see above), but I do have some pictures to post. Big thanks to Roxane for sharing them with me since my camera was on the fritz.
Let's hope this writer's block is over for the time being.
Thanks for reading,
M
Breaking the Silence
I apologize for my silence lately. I am on day seven of a cold that I can't seem to shake. When one can hardly move, creativity and the desire to write leaves one's brain. It was only this morning while preparing for Mass that I was "writing in my head" again. With that, I knew it was time to post once again and get back on track.
I still feel awful and am wondering how long this will last. I can't taste or smell a thing and haven't been able to since Monday. I even attended a gourmet food and wine dinner and while I enjoyed the company of my "date" Rose, she had to describe the aromas and taste of the food and the wine that accompanied each course.
There is so much I want to write regarding our big adventure to Emilie Lemmon's gathering, but before I do so, I need to catch up on Roxane's posts. We experienced a celebration that I'm not sure how to put into words, but if you are curious before I can write more, check out Roxane's post from the last week. I'm positive that she can describe the events more eloquently than I can. That being said, I met some wonderful new friends (God bless Emilie for bringing us together) and was even able to experience Solemn (or High) Mass at the Cathedral of St. Paul, which is located next door to The Catholic Spirit, where Emilie worked, as well as our new friend Christina.
The saddest part of this journey that we took together is that my camera wasn't working, so again, for pictures, check out Roxane's site.
I'm going to cut this post short because I'm still under the weather, but know that I will be back tomorrow with more. In the mean time, GO VIKES!
I still feel awful and am wondering how long this will last. I can't taste or smell a thing and haven't been able to since Monday. I even attended a gourmet food and wine dinner and while I enjoyed the company of my "date" Rose, she had to describe the aromas and taste of the food and the wine that accompanied each course.
There is so much I want to write regarding our big adventure to Emilie Lemmon's gathering, but before I do so, I need to catch up on Roxane's posts. We experienced a celebration that I'm not sure how to put into words, but if you are curious before I can write more, check out Roxane's post from the last week. I'm positive that she can describe the events more eloquently than I can. That being said, I met some wonderful new friends (God bless Emilie for bringing us together) and was even able to experience Solemn (or High) Mass at the Cathedral of St. Paul, which is located next door to The Catholic Spirit, where Emilie worked, as well as our new friend Christina.
The saddest part of this journey that we took together is that my camera wasn't working, so again, for pictures, check out Roxane's site.
I'm going to cut this post short because I'm still under the weather, but know that I will be back tomorrow with more. In the mean time, GO VIKES!
Playing Catch (Up)
I've been slacking on posting, but certainly not on purpose.
Tomorrow is the big day; my on-site interview. I am so excited and Craig has been drilling me with questions such as, "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?" or, "if you were an animal, what animal would you be?" He's also coached me on several other questions of which I had answers to (he approved). I'm feeling nervous, though nervousness is a good thing; a cocky attitude doesn't generally get a person where one wants to be. Right now, it's all in the hands of God.
From Msgr. Mike Foltz in our weekly bulletin: "It might interest you to know that we are a young parish community. Seventy-three percent of our parishioners are 49 years old or younger. This puts your pastor in the older crowd and the minority. Now you know why you hear a lot of child like noises at some of our Masses. Praise God for the sound of life. Parents, please keep bringing your (God' s) children to Jesus!" Enough said.
We celebrated my mother-in-law's birthday on Sunday; then braved the wind and went to the pond so Murray could skate. Once again it was a huge hit. . .
Tomorrow is the big day; my on-site interview. I am so excited and Craig has been drilling me with questions such as, "If you were a tree, what kind of tree would you be?" or, "if you were an animal, what animal would you be?" He's also coached me on several other questions of which I had answers to (he approved). I'm feeling nervous, though nervousness is a good thing; a cocky attitude doesn't generally get a person where one wants to be. Right now, it's all in the hands of God.
From Msgr. Mike Foltz in our weekly bulletin: "It might interest you to know that we are a young parish community. Seventy-three percent of our parishioners are 49 years old or younger. This puts your pastor in the older crowd and the minority. Now you know why you hear a lot of child like noises at some of our Masses. Praise God for the sound of life. Parents, please keep bringing your (God' s) children to Jesus!" Enough said.
We celebrated my mother-in-law's birthday on Sunday; then braved the wind and went to the pond so Murray could skate. Once again it was a huge hit. . .
I've only been back to work for three days. I can't believe the difference it makes in my daily life, especially going from part time to full time. I've always been a person who hates to stand around at a job, so I've been asking a ton of questions (especially regarding the new software in the bookstore) and am learning a lot. I'm probably driving everone nuts, but I am eager to learn. My favorite duty though, is helping a student help find his/her books. I love scanning the aisles and matching the book with the class and professor. Every time I pick up a book, I want to read it (especially the grammer and English texts), so I've written down several titles that I plan to pick up for myself. I just hope I don't make a huge mistake - I'm learning so much so fast - but if I doubt myself, I always ask; better to follow protocol than to confuse everyone. And I do have to say, the student workers and the bosses are incredibly patient and helpful. It's wonderful to come home at night and feel that I've helped someone.
Prayers for G. You know who you are. Sweet dreams.
Mass-Mania 2
**This post has been edited**
Tonight we opted for the Saturday evening Mass versus the Sunday morning service. We don't intend to do that again. Apparently, children are preferred at the Sunday morning 10:30 Mass. Murray behaved as well as a two-year-old is able to behave, but it was obvious that our fellow parishioners didn't appreciate having a small child at church (we sat in the second to the last pew in order to be able to exit quickly should the need arise). Murray was pretty well behaved, even more so than usual - except for when he sang out of turn and clapped for "more?" when the men's choir finished their first song. I suppose we could also add the time near the end of Mass that he shouted "mama" as loud as he could over and over until the only 2 other children in church began to repeat him, thus starting a "mama shouting war". I hauled Murray out and when he was ready to settle down, we returned to our pew. We honestly believed that we would be welcomed at any service, but we thought wrong. We couldn't believe the rude stares and shushes we received, even though Murray was trying his best (and we were trying our best) to behave. It makes me sad because I want to be welcomed in God's house no matter what service we choose to attend and tonight Craig and I both felt uncomfortable. But I do feel though, that God knows that we were there and He loves all of his unruly children, even us adults. We'll just have to sit in the "crying room" (do they still call it that?) next time we decide to go to church on a Saturday evening. I don't want to compromise anyone elses' experience at Mass; everyone deserves peace at church, no matter the religion, but where do you find balance?
My question is this: When did our religious practices become so darn political? I'm feeling pretty sad about church right now and plan to have a long discussion with Father, but I would appreciate your thoughts.
Tonight we opted for the Saturday evening Mass versus the Sunday morning service. We don't intend to do that again. Apparently, children are preferred at the Sunday morning 10:30 Mass. Murray behaved as well as a two-year-old is able to behave, but it was obvious that our fellow parishioners didn't appreciate having a small child at church (we sat in the second to the last pew in order to be able to exit quickly should the need arise). Murray was pretty well behaved, even more so than usual - except for when he sang out of turn and clapped for "more?" when the men's choir finished their first song. I suppose we could also add the time near the end of Mass that he shouted "mama" as loud as he could over and over until the only 2 other children in church began to repeat him, thus starting a "mama shouting war". I hauled Murray out and when he was ready to settle down, we returned to our pew. We honestly believed that we would be welcomed at any service, but we thought wrong. We couldn't believe the rude stares and shushes we received, even though Murray was trying his best (and we were trying our best) to behave. It makes me sad because I want to be welcomed in God's house no matter what service we choose to attend and tonight Craig and I both felt uncomfortable. But I do feel though, that God knows that we were there and He loves all of his unruly children, even us adults. We'll just have to sit in the "crying room" (do they still call it that?) next time we decide to go to church on a Saturday evening. I don't want to compromise anyone elses' experience at Mass; everyone deserves peace at church, no matter the religion, but where do you find balance?
My question is this: When did our religious practices become so darn political? I'm feeling pretty sad about church right now and plan to have a long discussion with Father, but I would appreciate your thoughts.
We Have a Tie
We have a tie. . .the winners are Stef and Roxane. I might point out that they were the only two to play my little game, but they were both correct. Anyway, watch you're mailboxes, ladies!
"Where do I begin? About a love so sweet la la la la la, where do I start?" If you can't tell, I'm in a musical sort of mood today. I was hammering away on the piano earlier and came across the sheet music for the theme song of "Love Story". Kinda makes me want to watch it again.
Anyway, we had a blessed Christmas. Due to the weather, my Dad couldn't make it (I imagine many of you were stuck or had family stranded in one place or another) but he and Maddie are on the way I as type. I can't wait to see him - as usual, it's been too long. I'm sure Maddie is getting so big! It will be a circus around here with a large puppy, crazy Rudy and cranky Nala. My guess is that the cat will find his hiding spot and we won't see him for a few days.
We spent Christmas Eve with my family on Craig's side. It was a fun-filled day and night. The boys had a blast helping Aunt Amy pass out the presents, which is tradition. I think she's been the present passer-outer since before she could read. It truly was a fantastic day.
The Lovejoy's were stuck in town for Christmas so they honored us with their presence for Christmas dinner and conversation. Their daughter, Mariana, and Murray played until they were exhausted (little Mari is a smart one; Wade and Kristine have a run for their money). Maggie entertained us all just by being herself. She's so funny and charming and all around wonderful. I'm so lucky that she's my sister. Thanks, sis, for not sharing your reasons for not eating pork. I'll remember to make you something else from now on!
The rest of our holiday included blowing snow, shoveling, clearing sewer vents, and more blowing snow. Sheesh! This one will definitely go down in the books for the whitest Christmas ever.
The best part of the whole time for me was feeling Christ's presence in my heart. For the first time in a long, long time, I truly knew (and still know) that He is with us always. What a wonderful feeling!
I'm off to prepare for Dad's arrival. I can't wait to have us all together again.
Most likely, my next post will be in 2010, so I pray that the rest of your 2009 is beautiful.
Have a safe and happy New Year.
"Where do I begin? About a love so sweet la la la la la, where do I start?" If you can't tell, I'm in a musical sort of mood today. I was hammering away on the piano earlier and came across the sheet music for the theme song of "Love Story". Kinda makes me want to watch it again.
Anyway, we had a blessed Christmas. Due to the weather, my Dad couldn't make it (I imagine many of you were stuck or had family stranded in one place or another) but he and Maddie are on the way I as type. I can't wait to see him - as usual, it's been too long. I'm sure Maddie is getting so big! It will be a circus around here with a large puppy, crazy Rudy and cranky Nala. My guess is that the cat will find his hiding spot and we won't see him for a few days.
We spent Christmas Eve with my family on Craig's side. It was a fun-filled day and night. The boys had a blast helping Aunt Amy pass out the presents, which is tradition. I think she's been the present passer-outer since before she could read. It truly was a fantastic day.
The Lovejoy's were stuck in town for Christmas so they honored us with their presence for Christmas dinner and conversation. Their daughter, Mariana, and Murray played until they were exhausted (little Mari is a smart one; Wade and Kristine have a run for their money). Maggie entertained us all just by being herself. She's so funny and charming and all around wonderful. I'm so lucky that she's my sister. Thanks, sis, for not sharing your reasons for not eating pork. I'll remember to make you something else from now on!
The rest of our holiday included blowing snow, shoveling, clearing sewer vents, and more blowing snow. Sheesh! This one will definitely go down in the books for the whitest Christmas ever.
The best part of the whole time for me was feeling Christ's presence in my heart. For the first time in a long, long time, I truly knew (and still know) that He is with us always. What a wonderful feeling!
I'm off to prepare for Dad's arrival. I can't wait to have us all together again.
Most likely, my next post will be in 2010, so I pray that the rest of your 2009 is beautiful.
Have a safe and happy New Year.
The Reason For the Season
We celebrated another "first" on Saturday. Murray received hockey skates for his birthday. The weather was beautiful and the pond behind the Beckerleg's had a shimmery, clean sheet of ice. Craig and I were prepared for the fact that Murray would be scared, even to put on the skates, but as soon as we began to lace them up he was thrilled. He kept repeating, "skate, hockey, ice skate, hockey" and when we finally put him on the ice he was in his own version of heaven. Of course he's in need of a lot of help (one person on each side) but even when he took his first fall he just giggled and got right back on the horse, so to speak. When we explained that it was time for a break and took him in the house, he cried, so Craig trudged back out and let him practice. We are thrilled that he enjoyed it so much. I suppose it's time to start saving our pennies - I wonder if Moorhead Youth Hockey has a lay-away plan? I did take a ton of video, but I can't seem to get it to download. I'll keep trying.
As we prepare for the wrap-up of advent and the celebration of Christ's birth, I've noticed a pretty awesome change in myself these days. This year I've spent more time reflecting upon our blessings, asking questions and learning more about our faith, and pondering the wondrous gifts we received when Christ died on the cross for us. Tonight will be the first time I attend reconciliation in 5 years. I'm apprehensive, but I love the feeling of being cleansed and am so grateful that Jesus died so that we can be forgiven of sin. I pray that my faith journey will flourish in the days and weeks to come. I have to thank my friend Roxane for this gift of new-found faith; through her and her wisdom I've embraced Christ in ways I hadn't dreamed possible; of course I know that God gave us the gift of our friendship and for that, I am honored.
May you have a blessed Christmas filled with peace and joy!
As we prepare for the wrap-up of advent and the celebration of Christ's birth, I've noticed a pretty awesome change in myself these days. This year I've spent more time reflecting upon our blessings, asking questions and learning more about our faith, and pondering the wondrous gifts we received when Christ died on the cross for us. Tonight will be the first time I attend reconciliation in 5 years. I'm apprehensive, but I love the feeling of being cleansed and am so grateful that Jesus died so that we can be forgiven of sin. I pray that my faith journey will flourish in the days and weeks to come. I have to thank my friend Roxane for this gift of new-found faith; through her and her wisdom I've embraced Christ in ways I hadn't dreamed possible; of course I know that God gave us the gift of our friendship and for that, I am honored.
May you have a blessed Christmas filled with peace and joy!
Hail Mary, Full of Grace. . .
Murray and Craig constructed a fort last night. For some reason, our camera isn't working, hence the blurry image.Murray took this shot; we're not counting on him growing up to be a photographer. However, at least he snapped it when the floors were freshly scrubbed.
One of my favorite times to attend Mass is during the week, when the students from St. Joseph's school attend. Today is The Feast of the Immaculate Conception, so I asked Craig to do the daycare run and I went the the 8:00am service. It's so heart-warming to see those little bodies participating. Their take on all things Catholicism is so innocent; I tend to get more out of Mass when the children from school are present. Partly this is due to the fact that the readings and homily are geared towards young minds; the other part is that I don't have a rambunctious toddler in tow. Although I love having Murray with us at church, sometimes it gets a bit hard to concentrate when I'm attempting to stop him from kicking the pew, shouting at the people behind us, or asking for something to eat. Today was the perfect beginning to a brand-new day.
Blessings,
M
This Isn't the Worst That Could Happen
When I last posted, I was at work and life was looking pretty great. Life is still wonderful, but we've hit a bump in the road. Yesterday at 12:40pm, by boss informed me that he had to make cuts and although he looked down other avenues, my job was the first to go. I was so much in shock that I was dizzy and sick to my stomach. He explained that it had nothing to do with me (thankfully) but that the company wasn't doing so well and changes needed to be made. I am heartbroken - I loved my position at MMC and the people that I worked with. However, we (they) are a small company and it makes sense to let me go. My boss was very sad too; he said that he really didn't want to see me leave, but at this point there weren't any other options. Tomorrow I will go in and clean out my desk, say my goodbyes and start anew.
I was devastated and am still saddened. However, I have no hard feelings or resentments and am looking at this as an opportunity to start again with a clean slate. I have so many dreams, and this might just be the perfect opportunity to pursue them. I'm going into this with an open mind and heart, and praying that God will guide me to where I need to be. As my sister pointed out, "This too shall pass", and "Things will be greater later." Also on my list of favs is "When one door closes, another opens". My resume is ready, but I've also made a list of options that I'd like to investigate before any serious decision is made. I'm so grateful for the things I've learned at MMC and for the friends that I have cherished while there (even through the rough stuff).
I'm off to bed; tomorrow will be emotionally exhausting, but I will prevail! Tomorrow is another day and the world is full of opportunities.
God Bless,
M
I was devastated and am still saddened. However, I have no hard feelings or resentments and am looking at this as an opportunity to start again with a clean slate. I have so many dreams, and this might just be the perfect opportunity to pursue them. I'm going into this with an open mind and heart, and praying that God will guide me to where I need to be. As my sister pointed out, "This too shall pass", and "Things will be greater later." Also on my list of favs is "When one door closes, another opens". My resume is ready, but I've also made a list of options that I'd like to investigate before any serious decision is made. I'm so grateful for the things I've learned at MMC and for the friends that I have cherished while there (even through the rough stuff).
I'm off to bed; tomorrow will be emotionally exhausting, but I will prevail! Tomorrow is another day and the world is full of opportunities.
God Bless,
M
Mass-mania
Murray is a textbook two-year old. I often wonder how we were so blessed to have such a child. Recently, I received a gentle reminder as to who ultimately created our boy:
Murray recently learned how to "honk" noses, thanks to one of his aunts. It's hysterical; until he tries to "honk" complete strangers in the grocery store, or the nice old lady sharing our pew at Mass.
Murray also has a great love of music and dancing. Wherever and whenever we are listening to music, he always wants, "one more?". Much to our chagrin on Sunday (after several attempts to keep him quiet), when the choir finished singing the first hymn, Murray clapped and asked quite loudly, "one more?" several times (we were sitting in the third pew from the front). When it was time to sing the "Alleluia", he joined in with a rousing rendition of "la LOOO la" that lasted throughout the reading of the Gospel. Did I mention we were sitting in the front?
Taking a toddler to church is important. They have to learn sooner or later and it's wonderful to pray together as a family. However, taking a toddler to church is also sweaty work: distracting, funny, exasperating, and at times, even painful. Half of the congregation heard the loud thump that accompanied Murray's screams when he fell off the kneeler and banged his head on the seat of the pew.
The aforementioned events are only a few that happened in an hour's time last Sunday. By the time the final strains of "He is Exulted" were sung, I was sweating, shaking and wondering if we would ever be allowed at Mass again. He had a tantrum during the final minutes of Mass, which seemed like hours. Poor Marcia, who was steadfastly attempting to read the announcements, ended up nearly shouting into the mic.
I learned something wonderful that day. During coffee and community after church, Father Raul stopped by to say good morning. When I asked Murray to say sorry for being loud in church, Father let out a hearty laugh. He said to me, "Marie, he is a child of God. He can be as loud as he needs to be when I am preaching, so do not worry. When Jesus was preaching, there were thousands of people, and no microphones! I would be more upset if you were anxious about the noise he makes during Sunday Mass".
The next time Murray causes a ruckus in church, or anywhere for that matter, I will smile and remember that he is a child of God, instead of being embarrassed by his behavior.
Murray recently learned how to "honk" noses, thanks to one of his aunts. It's hysterical; until he tries to "honk" complete strangers in the grocery store, or the nice old lady sharing our pew at Mass.
Murray also has a great love of music and dancing. Wherever and whenever we are listening to music, he always wants, "one more?". Much to our chagrin on Sunday (after several attempts to keep him quiet), when the choir finished singing the first hymn, Murray clapped and asked quite loudly, "one more?" several times (we were sitting in the third pew from the front). When it was time to sing the "Alleluia", he joined in with a rousing rendition of "la LOOO la" that lasted throughout the reading of the Gospel. Did I mention we were sitting in the front?
Taking a toddler to church is important. They have to learn sooner or later and it's wonderful to pray together as a family. However, taking a toddler to church is also sweaty work: distracting, funny, exasperating, and at times, even painful. Half of the congregation heard the loud thump that accompanied Murray's screams when he fell off the kneeler and banged his head on the seat of the pew.
The aforementioned events are only a few that happened in an hour's time last Sunday. By the time the final strains of "He is Exulted" were sung, I was sweating, shaking and wondering if we would ever be allowed at Mass again. He had a tantrum during the final minutes of Mass, which seemed like hours. Poor Marcia, who was steadfastly attempting to read the announcements, ended up nearly shouting into the mic.
I learned something wonderful that day. During coffee and community after church, Father Raul stopped by to say good morning. When I asked Murray to say sorry for being loud in church, Father let out a hearty laugh. He said to me, "Marie, he is a child of God. He can be as loud as he needs to be when I am preaching, so do not worry. When Jesus was preaching, there were thousands of people, and no microphones! I would be more upset if you were anxious about the noise he makes during Sunday Mass".
The next time Murray causes a ruckus in church, or anywhere for that matter, I will smile and remember that he is a child of God, instead of being embarrassed by his behavior.
Conflict of Interest - Update
As most of you know, I've recently decided to take part in the March of Dimes fundraiser this year. I received a random call at work one afternoon asking if I would be interested in the MOD's "Jail and Bail" program. I immediately said yes, assuming that the organization is vitally important to pre and post-natal care. Thanks to your generosity, I've raised $170.00 for the cause. I'm grateful to the many individuals that have supported my quest.
Recently, a good friend of mine (who is a faithful Catholic, fellow mom, author, and a very wise woman), enlightened me about the March of Dimes organization. Unfortunately, the MOD supports ideals of which I cannot accept. I have struggled with this decision, but after much research, have decided to opt out of the March of Dimes fundraiser. To those of you who donated: Your online donations will still be received by the March of Dimes. For anyone who mailed a donation, I will shred your check (or mail it back to you if you wish). Again, I do thank you for your generosity, and I apologize for this turn of events and any confusion I may have caused.
http://www.catholicculture.org/
Click on Resource Center and search for March of Dimes.
I realize that this is a controversial subject. By no means do I intend to offend any of you. We are all entitled to our beliefs, and I respect yours. I just cannot go through with this after what I've learned. Please contact me if you have questions, concerns, or comments. Again, I thank you for your support, generosity, and understanding.
"When the most important things in our life happen we quite often do not know, at the moment, what is going on." - C.S. Lewis
Recently, a good friend of mine (who is a faithful Catholic, fellow mom, author, and a very wise woman), enlightened me about the March of Dimes organization. Unfortunately, the MOD supports ideals of which I cannot accept. I have struggled with this decision, but after much research, have decided to opt out of the March of Dimes fundraiser. To those of you who donated: Your online donations will still be received by the March of Dimes. For anyone who mailed a donation, I will shred your check (or mail it back to you if you wish). Again, I do thank you for your generosity, and I apologize for this turn of events and any confusion I may have caused.
http://www.catholicculture.org/
Click on Resource Center and search for March of Dimes.
I realize that this is a controversial subject. By no means do I intend to offend any of you. We are all entitled to our beliefs, and I respect yours. I just cannot go through with this after what I've learned. Please contact me if you have questions, concerns, or comments. Again, I thank you for your support, generosity, and understanding.
"When the most important things in our life happen we quite often do not know, at the moment, what is going on." - C.S. Lewis
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