Happy Birthday to Mom, and other stuff

So Mami, happy birthday. I hope Christi took you some tasty food! Yummy!

After spending Turkey Day in pajamas and watching parades and Christmas movies and eating leftovers, we celebrated a post-Thanksgiving thanksgiving meal on Friday when Vicky snuck out between a harried return from New York and an insanely early call for rehearsal and deployment to the land of the enemy in Athens. At least today’s battle was successful. go Jackets!

Christy has recovered very nicely from the surgery. She is still terrified by the thought of sneezing, and now that she looks less swollen we enjoy laughing at her hysterical response to the tickling that is a preface to a sneeze. Ha! I do not envy the follow up next week when they yank the splints out of her nose. At least they don’t do any packing any more. She looks totally normal now that her face isn’t swollen. Oh, and her nose is on straighter. Christaar is a champ!

The boy, on the other hand, is still in a great deal of pain, and then has a good day, only to push himself and fall back again. Percacet and ice packs are his friend. Poor kid. the physical therapy felt good, but the exercises are maybe stressing him a little.

Okay, so that’s it — not quite the Thanksgiving break we were expecting, but everything’s cool.

Christaar has a new nose

I was going to post a picture, but past experiences in humiliation resulted in some teasing, so I’ll save the picture for people who really know her. I don’t mind humiliating Christy in front of family and close friends.

Surgery went relatively well, if longer than expected. It turns out that in addition to straightening out her schnoz, Dr. T removed her adenoids which were the size of walnuts and thus he couldn’t “suck them out of her nose” and had to go in the old way. I didn’t ask what the old way was because he went into detail about other gross and disgusting things and all I heard was “sore throat” and ice cream. She liked the idea of ice cream.

Anyway, she spent the day recovering nicely, parked in front of the TV, terrified of sneezing. Finally, she sneezed, the world didn’t end, but the dog looks at her suspiciously.

In other news, Jonathan started physical therapy and his knee is healing nicely.

one down…one to go

Jonathan is fine from his surgery, and he’s home and complaining about how inefficient the ice bag is. Yeah. He got a space-age ice bag from the nurse, and he has checked it out and declared that it is insulated and therefore inefficient. I dunno about that. It strapped to his knee and he slept all night without a peep.

Of course, maybe it was the percacet. Ha!

I suppose I could post a picture when I get back from class this afternoon. Thanks for your calls and prayers.

the human condition…is everywhere

I haven’t been posting lately because I am working on NaNoWriMo, and somehow, every time I attempt this feat, I rediscover that I only have a set number of words I am capable of producing in a day, and today’s quota is going to be spent here. Frankly, I don’t how how to get through the rest of my day if I don’t put down in words the feelings that are not just welling up, but spilling out all over the place.

Generally, I’m not very open with my feelings. I was thunderstruck this afternoon when I got a call from Vicky to share the contents of mystery package she received. A little back history first. Vic, some of you may know, was actively involved in the Marine Corps Junior ROTC in high school, and considered a career in the military…she even gave a shot to the Army ROTC program in college before deciding that she preferred a man in uniform to herself in uniform.

She’s been actively involved in corresponding with soldiers deployed to the combat zones, and has established some lovely friendships, and then they come back and move on with their lives and she picks up a new soldier to write. Until now. Her soldier was killed in a bombing in Baghdad.

When she shared that news with me, it was devasting, and after some prayers for the repose of his soul, and his family’s peace, I moved on, as I thought perhaps she had. Until today, when she received a very special package.

His parents sent her the casket flag, along with a letter detailing how he often spoke of her and how her correspondence had been such an integral part of his life.

How little we know of the effect we have on others.

Be kind.

this morning on the way to work

sunrise

In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.

It’s November 1st

NaNoWriMo started. I posted my first bleary eyed entry at the NaNoWriMo tab. Read it now — it’ll be replaced with something new tomorrow!

And come play with me. I’m Bego at nanowrimo.org.

Mother Teresa’s Secret Fire: The Power of Prayer

Most of the time when I get a new book I read it immediately. I sit down and zoom through it with great passion and zeal, and then just as suddenly it’s over, and I’m left yearning for the next literary fix.

That crash and burn technique serves me well; I am in the business of reading and writing. There’s always a deadline, always a new book that I must read. Of course, getting to review books for The Catholic Company is a bonus for me!

Last month when my review copy of Mother Teresa’s Secret Fire: The Encounter that Changed Her Life, and How it Can Transform Your Own  by Joseph Langford arrived, I was going to treat it like any other book — something that was going to give me some fleeting pleasure. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t have a cavalier attitude about books. I love books. My ravenous consumption of books is probably rooted in my fundamental desire to read everything, or at least, everything that I can get my hands on.

When I sat down to read Mother Teresa’s Secret Fire something unexpectedly different happened to me. I slowed down.I savored the book. I turned to it, not in a frenzy to see what Langford says next, but to absorb and understand the message.

Joseph Langford examines Mother Teresa’s encounter with Christ through prayer, and it vicariously becomes ours. The lessons are profoundly deep and yet so simple that they can be distilled from the advice she so freely gives:

If you want to pray better, you need to pray more.

That simple command to pray more encouraged me to seek a new level of understanding within my own prayer life. The book captivated me with its life-transforming messages thanks largely to Langford’s expert handling of so esoteric a subject as prayer. After all, those of us who see prayer as a mysterious activity for the super holy have failed miserably to understand its nature. I attribute my own past failure to a fundamental inability to lay bare my soul in a vulnerable position.

Can you imagine anyone more vulnerable than Mother Teresa? And yet, she dedicated herself to seeking and helping those who were indeed more vulnerable. Her secret is exposed here for our benefit, so that we, too, can be transformed, and be transformational for others.

Langford deftly breaks down the essential attributes of prayer as expressed by Mother Teresa — to “pray from the heart” and  to hold “inner silence.” That last one, especially, competes with every distraction continuously pulling at us. And that’s only the tip of the iceberg.

This beautiful labor of love, not just Mother Teresa’s magnificent legacy but also Joseph Langford’s insight into her secret fire, is a must-read for all of us at any stage of our faith journey.

[Her] message is something infinitely rich, yet infinitely simple. She has shown us that, as the burning desert yearns for water, God yearns for us. And the God who thirsts for us is not hard to find, since he dwells in our soul as his temple, and comes in the palpable disguise of our suffering neighbor, making it easy for us to find the unsearchable God, and to come face-to-face with Christ.

Get it. Read it. Embrace the transformational power of her secret fire.