Uncomplicated

My paternal grandfather is dying. It tears me up inside to know that my Protestant family members will die outside of the amazing, protective graces of the Catholic Church.

My dying grandfather has no access to the Sacrament of the Sick, to Confession, or to the Eucharist. He can't sooth his natural fears by the recitation of a Chaplet of Divine Mercy or even say a single Hail Mary. There are no priests to comfort him, no kind Sisters to bring him the Eucharist on his sickbed, and no Legion of Mary members to hold his trembling hands and pray the rosary.

Last Sunday, I poured out my broken heart to Father Valentine after Mass. "Father, my Protestant grandfather is dying in another state." I pointed to my big, pregnant belly, "I can't visit him in person. I'm restricted to mail and the telephone. He doesn't have access to the Sacrament of the Sick. How should I pray for him? I'm praying the Divine Mercy Chaplet on my own but I can't pray that with him. He doesn't really understand the concept of "redemptive suffering" or uniting himself with Jesus on the cross? How do I talk to him? What should I do?"

In that tender, intimate love that shows that a priest always acts as our true Spiritual Father, Father Val shook my hand. In a lovely Irish lilt he told me with certainty "You can't do better than the Our Father. That was the prayer that He taught us himself. Just keep praying the Our Father with your grandfather. That will be enough."

I'm often guilty of making my prayer life too complicated. Praying for the dying is a big responsibility for a Carmelite, and indeed, for all Catholics. Sometimes, however, I find myself frozen in fear. I easily become overwhelmed by the multiple devotions that are available to assist the dying. I worry that I'm not praying hard enough, in the right way, to the right Saint, in order to make any sort of difference.

Yet Father Val's words are a beautiful reminder to me that prayer is always easy. The Our Father is the common ground between Protestants and Catholics. I don't need to be the vehicle of grace that converts my grandfather to the Catholic faith on his deathbed. Instead, my simple job is to help my grandfather keep praying his familiar "Our Lord's Prayer" in the final days of his life.

Eat, Pray, Love

Eeek! That movie comes out this weekend. The words sound so close to the Catholic life, yet the movie is SO FAR OFF!

I humbly suggest a change in the title.

Pray, Love, Serve Dinner

(That's how the quest for the Spiritual Life gets played out in my house!)

Nesting

 

My "techno-nesting" is still going full force. It's looking pretty doubtful that I will complete Maria's baby book on Shutterfly before the next baby comes. (Yes, that would make me three years behind on organizing photos for my third baby!) Still, I'm having fun going down memory lane. Here's a five year old photo from our first D.C. apartment-back when all my babies could nap on the same bed. Aren't they cute?
(Hannah age 2, Alex age 1)

Raising The Bar

In 19 days (or less) I'll enter into serious Spiritual Combat with my 4th c-section at a Catholic Hospital. This hospital has a gorgeous statue of our Blessed Mother in the front courtyard and 24 hour a day Adoration. The priests are wonderful. The Sisters are wonderful. Everyone who attends Daily Mass is wonderful.

Then there is the maternity ward staff, which somehow are not wonderful. Satan did a fantastic job of terrifying me after the birth of my third child at this same Catholic Hospital in 2007.

It's nuts how many crazy doctors, nurses and pediatricians we ran into during my hospital stay with Baby Maria. I'm talking seriously crazy. The Ped that was looking after my hefty 10 pound baby girl actually told me less than 24 hours after her birth "You will kill your baby if you insist on breastfeeding her exclusively! We've already had 2 deaths from breastfeeding at (insert the name of my HMO) this year!"

I sat in the hospital bed thinking "Are you serious?" Breastfeeding, that's like the gold standard. I've never run across any doctor before that moment who actively discouraged a mother from nursing her newborn.

Because I wasn't a well formed in the art of Spiritual Warfare back then, I did not fight back with prayer. Instead I crumpled up like a used Kleenex and cried my eyes out. I spent 3 days holding a precious newborn and crying after each and every negative encounter.

Needless to say, I haven't looked forward to a repeat experience in this same maternity ward with precious baby number 4.

In the past month, I've finally stopped dreading my hospital stay. Instead, I've started to arm myself for serious Spiritual Combat. I'm packing holy water and blessed salt in my hospital bag. I'm taking my rosary into my operating room. I'm scheduled to receive the Sacrament of the Sick soon. My Carmelite sisters have planned a beautiful prayer session in front of the Blessed Sacrament on the night before I enter the hospital.

Entering into Morning Prayer today, I felt pretty good about my progress. Then Jesus had his heart to heart with me. My Gospel passage for Lecto Divino said "Love Your Enemies, Bless those who persecute you." My whole thirty minute prayer session consisted of me saying to Jesus "Really? Those doctors who were so mean to me, I'm supposed to love them? That nurse who failed to administer any pain medication during her shift and then called me a drug addict because I requested "extra" OxyContin hours after my abdominal surgery--I'm supposed to bless her also?" Jesus kept telling me "Yes! Your job isn't solely to resist evil during your hospital stay, your job is also actively love and bless the very people who are being mean to you."

Jesus is all about --Raising The Bar.

I'm rapidly discovering that the spiritual life is an uphill climb. Just when I become content with my progress, Jesus, my personal trainer, kindly points out that I've got so much more mountain face to rock-climb before I can summit Mount Carmel.

ARRANGED

This is an incredible movie about the friendship between an Orthodox Jew and a Muslim. Their joint search for true love is charming. It's also an amazing description of the challenges of living as a woman of Faith in the secular, modern age. Available in instant down-load from Netflix. Watch it today!

My One Task for Christ- Growing a New Baby

Yesterday, I sent an email asking a family member to babysit my older children the night of my scheduled c-section. After two months of benign neglect, I received six emails back from this family member within a fifteen minute period. There was the strong YES to my babysitting request. Each succeeding email brought some new suggestions of additional acts of charity that this family member could preform for me. Some of them were off the wall and would require a great deal of prep work from me-- the girl with a hugely pregnant body who can barely haul herself off of the couch by 3:00 PM in the afternoon.

As usual, whenever my brain is in a whirl, I sought clarity from my husband. (My Jon was put on earth by Jesus as my personal "Guide to the Perplexed.")

I explained to Jon all the problems associated with accepting random charity act #13, when Jon stopped me mid-sentence.

"You don't need to do anything. Your family member is panicked at the thought of you having another baby and is running around like a chicken with her head cut off. She's throwing out a lot of useless suggestions. You don't need to follow any of them. Your job is to keep her focused.

There is one task that this family member can preform that will make our lives 100% easier. We need an overnight babysitter. Just keep reminding this family member there is only one thing that we really need. If she helps us with this babysitting job, she's already doing her part!"

I laughed and took his advice. The stream of random emails gradually came to a close.

Today, I had some time alone while riding the bus after my OB appointment. I thought about this situation and realize that I've got a similar tendency, especially in my relationship to Jesus.

Right now, Jesus has given me one task: Grow A Baby.

Yet all last week I felt miserable because my tired pregnant body "wasn't letting me" cook dinner, or clean up toys, or chat with my husband after 9:30 PM. I'm like the girl giving out endless suggestions to God via email. "Oh, so you want me to Grow A Baby. Sure I'll do that, but why don't I also bake my family fresh banana bread today, prewash all the baby clothes and start First Communion Prep with my son a full year early."

The Abby/Jesus conversation gets even more funny when I start to complain that my pregnant body won't let me "pray."

"Jesus, pregnancy stinks!" I tell him. "Because of my pregnancy, I now sleep through Morning Prayer. I've missed adhering to my regular Confession schedule. I'm 6 chapters behind in my Carmelite reading and I haven't visited you in Adoration in forever!"

I could just picture Jesus giving me the same advice. "Adoration? Abby, I don't need to see you at Adoration this week! You're busy growing a me a new baby.

Abby, Abby, I'm giving you one project for God. Grow a Baby. One task. It's the most important thing you can do for me and for the kingdom of heaven. Stay FOCUSED! All those long prayer sessions, your multiple household tasks, your knitted sock for lepers-- none of those are necessary acts of love right now. I'm asking you to do ONE thing for me."

Most Sacred Heart of Jesus, pray for me. Keep me focused.

Netflix- You So Don't Get Me!

Based on your interest in "North and South" . . .

We recommend. . . "Look Who's Talking!"

What do these two movies possibly have in common?

St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross Feast Day (Edith Stein)

Yeah! Today is the feast day of St. Teresa Benedicta of the Cross. I hope I get to write a real post later about this awesome Carmelite saint who died in the Holocaust.

St. Teresa Benedicta, pray for us!

A Public Service Announcement

Today, the 71st person asked me quizzically, "Are you going to keep homeschooling after the baby comes?"

My answer, "Yes."

Homeschooling is the easiest and most pleasant part of my day. My kids and I will continue to chat about cheetahs, Slavery in the American South, and how to best divide a plate of brownies into fractions even after a newborn enters into our lives.

A more relevant question would be "Will your kids continue to have clean underwear after the birth of their baby Sister?"

My truthful answer, "Probably Not."

Raising Catholic Kids

The menus have changed radically in our house, now that there is an "over-pregnant" chef in the kitchen. Instead of hot cereal, we're eating boxed cereal every morning.

Yesterday, Hannah came back to the table at 10 AM for a second helping of breakfast. She figured out that the novel box on our table actually contained a prize inside.

"Mama, I got a new rule," she said. "Whoever gets the toy first in her cereal bowl . . ."

Mentally, I supplied the rest of her sentence "gets to keep it."

Instead, my daughter surprised me. She said "will get to play with the toy first, before the others. Don't you think that's a good rule?"

I was totally shocked. My siblings and I were born five and nine years apart. Yet I remember having countless fights at the breakfast table over who would get the coveted toy in the cereal box. In our minds possession meant "ownership." I never remember us working together to find a fair way to share our toys, not even the cheap plastic things found inside a cereal box.

Yet in my daughters mind "getting" a toy, meant simply having first dibs before you shared that toy with others. She couldn't imagine one kid having sole ownership rights to a cool new toy while the rest of the siblings had nothing.

Trusting in God to Provide

Last September, I watched my athletic daughter zip around our apartment courtyard on her tiny red Trek bicycle with an older friend.

We bought that bike for Hannah at age 2 in Wisconsin, another life time ago. Back then, "economizing" meant buying one expensive birthday present for a toddler in a gender neutral color so that a new bike could last through several siblings.

My Hannah is amazing on a bike. (I'm the family slug who can barely walk without tripping over her own heels. I married a man whose idea of a good time is to hike 26 miles down the Wisconsin Ice-Age Trail in a single day. So far, every one of our kids have inherited their Dad's athletic prowess.)

Another Mom and I sat together on a park bench, watching the street light start to shine one by one over our daughter's bike helmets. I was very quiet, watching my oldest daughter with joy. Hannah had taught herself how to do wheelies, at the age of 6! It's incredible for me to realize that this shiny daughter slipped out of my own body, sometimes.

The other Mom was a Single Mother who I often make ill-at-ease by my incomprehensible ability to slip baby after baby out of my womb and into my 2 bedroom apartment without showing any reassuring signs of an imminent nervous break-down.

As I watched my kid pop wheelies, the neighbor leaned into me and said "Hannah needs a new bike. That old one is much to small for her! They are having a half-price sale at Performance Bicycle this week. You should send Jon over there to pick up a new bike for Hannah immediately!"

My mood turned sour. I couldn't talk. A half-price sale at Performance Bicycle still meant at least a $150 price-tag. There was no way we could swing the price of a new bike in our family budget.

"The only way Hannah can get a new bike is if God hands her one," I thought.

Then I prayed, "Take care of her God."

I hoped God would care for this future nun. I hoped that Accepting His Will, didn't mean watching my pretty, shiny baby getting teased by richer friends for riding a rusty "baby bike" next year. "Can't future nuns love Jesus with their whole heart and still ride nice bikes in their childhood?" I wondered.

Sometimes, when I'm brave, the virtue of poverty seems like such a simple thing to master: just bake all your meals from scratch, hit the Lands End sales, and watch your husband cut his own hair every month.

Then there are the times when the wind ruffles my sail. Suddenly it seems incredibly stupid to have four children without four matching college savings funds. What are Jon and I doing on this path of prayer and trust and patience? Our financial lives are so different from all the other middle class parents who have extra cash for sale-price purchases from Performance Bicycle.

When I listen to the voices from the outside world, a small seed of doubt creeps into my soul. I start obsessing about a missing item- no crib for a new baby, no school shoes in September and no bicycle for a tall 6 year old to ride.

By March, my worry over the missing bicycle had spread to Jon. "We've got to get Hannah a new bicycle for her Birthday" we decided. We priced bikes at Target. The cheapest one was $80. We floated the idea of canceling Hannah's birthday party to divert funds to a new bike. Hannah, my social butterfly who plans out her birthday party themes years in advance, started to cry. So I enlisted Hannah's grandparents help. They offered to take Hannah to Target to pick out a new bike on her big day. It seems like the Spring bicycle crisis was averted.

Then a mere five days before Hannah's party, Jon took out the trash and found a gently used "big kid" size Trek bicycle by the trash. (People move all the time from our apartment complex and the sidewalk by our trash dump has evolved into a local Freecyle site.) He brought it home.

The bike was beautiful. A sturdy mountain bike with little wear. My husband with a lot of bicycle savvy told me a "Trek is built to last forever."

There was only one problem. The bike was clearly a "boy's bike", with bright yellow and black racing stripes. Would Hannah ride it?

My daughter was excited, but hesitant. Her younger brother immediately pronounced it cool. "It looks just like Bumblebee!" he shouted. Thanks to Alex's enthusiasm for Transformers, Bumblebee is a beloved figure in our house. That endorsement was enough for Hannah.

Hannie started riding her new bike that very moment. Within a week she could keep up, and sometimes pass, her Father on their joint bike rides around the city.

Fast forward, a few months. My son taught himself how to ride without training wheels on the old, red bicycle that is sized for 3 to 5 year olds. Last week, my husband took both kids out cycling on our neighborhood bike path.

Jon noticed that Alex's recent growth spurt made riding the old bike difficult. "He looks like he's riding a clown bike," Jon thought.

Then two days later, on the sidewalk next to the trash dump, my husband found it. A beautiful hot pink Diamond Back bicycle for "a big kid", with clean white tires and a price tag still attached. He brought it home.

"Will Hannah switch bikes now?" he asked me. "Or do I try to give this new one to Alex?"

"This bike is beautiful!" I said. "It's a clearly a girl's bike. Hannah will jump at the chance to ride it. What are you worried about?"

The next morning, Jon unveiled the new bike to Hannah. The kids were so excited, Daddy had to make a special bike riding trip with all three kids during his lunch hour. Everyone had fun. The older kids zoomed quickly down the bike path with speed and agility. By the end of Fall, Alex will be also able to keep up with his Dad on his new Bumblebee bike.

The provision of two new bicycles was a marvel to Jon and I. Jon tells me that Trek and Diamond back are the top of the line. We easily got a gift of $500 worth of new bicycles. It seems so extraordinary that the children of two poor Carmelites can have expensive, well-working bikes to ride.

"We now have 4 bikes for 4 kids," I said. In further wonder, I added "I can't think of any way easier to get the older kid's their daily exercise after the new baby comes. I'll put the baby in the Bjorn, put Maria on the comfy stroller Aunt Emily found and calmly walk up and down the bike-path. Meanwhile, the older kids can go as fast as they want on their new bikes!"

Then Jon told me how important biking is to him. It's the one outdoor sport that he's retained after our move to the City. "Now I can pass that love of cycling onto my children!" he said.

I'm reminded once again that "Trusting in God to Provide" is a real concept. It's not some pious truism that is worn out by overuse. God doesn't give us what we want. God doesn't give us what we think that we need in the moment. He reads our heart. He's a loving Father who gives us what we truly need.

Precious Lord, help me to trust more in you!

Just when you think that your tired body can't go on another second without a cup of real coffee. . .

15 pounds of toys arrive at your front door!

Thank you Godparents!

Cowboy Junkies Anniversary Song

For Jon-Nine Years of Wonderful!

(This is the song that we played for our First Dance at our Wedding Reception)



(It's about the joy of seeing your beloved Spouse over a cup of coffee each and every morning.

Which is ironic, because we ran out of coffee this morning.

My boy, left an exhausted pregnant woman alone in a house filled with 3 hyper children and no coffee.

So the lady dragged her exhausted, pregnant body and three hyper children to Starbucks to in order to buy herself an iced, CAFFEINATED coffee at 9 o'clock in the morning.

Then the kind boy offered to pick up some real coffee at Target on his way home.

But a grumpy 3 year old started sobbing so hard at 5:45 PM that the wife begged the husband to come right home, instead.

Now there is no coffee in the house for a second day.

Tomorrow the cycle will repeat itself again with zero caffeinated beverages available in the morning to sip during breakfast while gazing into each others eyes

But I love him. And I love my life. Nine whole years of something wonderful!)

Signs of the Time

(For Hallie)

I need to post a picture soon of my fantastically large belly and the fantastically large circles under my eyes.

Ms. Mexican Jumping Bean now regularly starts to hat dance inside my womb at 10 PM, 12:30 AM, 3:30 AM and 6:30 AM.

So far, I've managed to stay fairly cheerful about the whole lack of sleep thing. When I prowl around the house at night, unable to go back to sleep I think "Well, why should I start sleeping through the night now? A newborn baby is entering my home in less than 28 days!"

When my Carmel magazine arrived this month, the cover had a picture of Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity in her death mask. In the old photograph, Elizabeth is pale and wasted in her coffin, surrounded by lilies. The dark shadows under her eyes are so large that they reach past the end of her nose.

My exact thoughts when I saw this photo are as follows: "Wow, Elizabeth of the Trinity and I have the same brown circles under our eyes! I can't match her faith in anything important, but at least I can match her face in this one small matter!"

Ahh! Exhaustion in our service to God. One lady surfed her trials to became a saint. Another tired Secular Carmelite managed to knock a whole 35 seconds off her future time in purgatory!

Blessed Elizabeth of the Trinity, pray for us!

Best Piece of Fan Mail that I've Ever Received!

"I think you're right to keep up your drum beat of the radical priority of prayer. The Martha/Mary passage makes very clear that prayer is the one necessary thing and that work should flow from it and is subordinant to it. Anxiety from many things comes from a failure to sit at the Lord's feet and listen to him. Many people misinterpret this passage as a call for the proper balance between work and prayer. Jesus isn't calling for the proper balance between work and prayer. He's stating that prayer is number one. We must still labor in the vineyards and avoid the sin of sloth, but prayer must come first. I think it's important to leave the judging to Jesus when it comes to determining whether someone who obviously works hard is making Martha's mistake. Many people who work very hard put prayer first."

Thank you Anonymous!

My Baby and Lady Gaga

(for Danya)

It is a universal truth that my husband is never allowed to take time off work.

Last month his boss canceled Jon's request to schedule an annual physical with the excuse "you're a young, healthy guy! You don't need a yearly check-up until after you turn 50!" Once my husband had to come into work while still retching from the stomach flu in order to help his boss insert a comma inside an Adobe InDesign document. In order to take two hours off to attend our baby's ultrasound, Jon had to make a draconian deal to work four extra hours on that same day!

Now my husband has five weeks of accrued vacation time, but I've really worried about the practically of him actually using this time to hold his newborn daughter this August.

Technically, it shouldn't matter if an employee uses his vacation time to a) take a two week European Grand Tour, or b) schedule a two week stay-cation with a child less than 12 minutes old. However, Jon's work is sort of "anti-family." Fellow employees make conversation regularly around the coffee pot with such cheerful comments as "I worked through all of my wife's three labors. Once I got an entire 45 page report finished in the delivery room." (When these helpful comments are repeated at my dining room table, I make not so Marian comments such as: "Maybe that's why that man is now divorced!")

So when the time came to submit his vacation request, my husband skipped over all sentimentality. He didn't write an email saying "please grant me two weeks vacation time starting on August 30th so that I can spend quality time gazing into my newborn's blue eyes." My husband wrote the cold, hard facts. "My wife is having surgery on August 30th. She will require my to help during her 2 week recovery time from said surgery. Please grant my vacation time request."

Jon hit send.

Fifteen minutes later, an amazing thing happened. His boss replied: "Yes." She then got up and immediately wrote his vacation time on the official office schedule. The man who was not allowed to attend his annual physical, who barely got time off to attend his Father's funeral, that exact same man suddenly found himself with TWO weeks of approved vacation time.

My husband immediately rose from his chair and ran to his boss's office.

What had happened?

When he got there, he found the same boss as yesterday- a 60+ year old lady with dozens of jangling bracelets who was divorced and had never had children herself.

However, this day, the boss was pro-baby.

After 10 years of infertility, her niece had gotten pregnant at the exact same time that her struggling musician husband finally landed a steady gig with--get this-- Lady Gaga's band.

The niece was over the moon about her new baby. The musician husband was over the moon about the new baby. Evidently, Lady Gaga was also over the moon about this special new baby as well.

Five minutes before my husband sent his email, the niece sent her aunt, Ms.Boss, a delightful email saying that Lady Gaga had generously agreed to send her husband home from a giant world tour in order to attend the birth of his first child. Ms. Boss thought that was so cute, that a Daddy would leave a World Tour in order to see his new baby. She was impressed that the famous Lady Gaga would spare a major part of her band, in order to help a new family bond together at birth.

So when my husband's cold, factual email arrived in Ms. Boss' inbox-- he hit upon a special moment. Ms. Boss now thought it was "cute" for Daddy's to long to attend their children's births. She wanted to match Lady Gaga in generosity. So she did what she had never done before, she immediately okay'd a vacation time request and placed it on the office calender without further comment or condition.

My husband came home and told me this story. I was in shock.

Now my husband is so out of the loop with the current music scene that he said "I think Lady Gaga is the name of a Broadway Play or something."

I almost feel off the couch laughing. "I haven't heard any of her songs either, honey, but I know Lady Gaga not the title of a Broadway Play. Lady Gaga is a rock star. Just this week she did something on American Idol that had all the Mama's on their Catholic blogs wagging their fingers."

I have still never listened to a Lady Gaga song. I've avoided looking at her videos. Even so, Lady Gaga has a special place in my heart. She's high up on my daily prayer list.

God can use anyone to do good. No one is beyond God's mercy, (even Lady Gaga and my husband's usually anti-child boss). Let us all pray that Lady Gaga gets reintroduced to the full wonders of her Catholic faith. She's been an instrument of God's grace to the Benjamin family during this latest pregnancy.

Help From An Unexpected Source

This morning, the Number 54 rolled by me as I missed the bus stop by inches outside my ob clinic. What bus driver would fail to stop for a super, pregnant lady who is running and waving her arms frantically?

God makes the bus stop at a red light half a block away. I kept running, as fast as my giant belly can go. "There is still no way I'm going to catch this bus," I thought.

Just then two Morman boys, in their neat ties and telltale black backpacks, step off at the cross walk in front of the bus. "Are you trying to get on this bus?" they call.

"Yes!" I answer.

The tallest Morman started beating on the bus door until the bus driver opens the door "There's a lady here who needs to get on!"

"God Bless you!" I called out, as I swung my tired body onto the bus.

At the mention of God, the Morman looked totally shocked. (I don't know what aspect of our whole exchange shocked him.) Once I made it on the bus, I prayed hard for Our Lady to bless those two kind men today. I love praying for Mormans. Our Lady seems to throw a lot of them my way.

Why Math is Important

The baby's godparents are quickly establishing themselves as the most incredible godparents on the planet! Not only is the godfather already insisting on taking a full day off from his important job at the Pentagon in order to drive me and the baby home from the hospital, this week his wife dropped off three $50 gift cards to Toys R Us.

"Your kids are all so great!" Mary R. gushed. (Yes, this lady has actually sat next to my family during Daily Mass. Evidently, crawling under pews and waving various Lego creations at the Blessed Sacrament can still qualify a kid for "great" status in Mary's book.) She continued, "I don't want anyone to feel left out during all the exciting preparations for the new baby. Make sure the older Benjamin kids get some fun new things as well!"

The Toys R Us gift cards appeared on Wednesday. I took one look at my swollen belly and decided that I did NOT want to stand up for the hours that it would take a 3 year old, 5 year old, and 7 year to jointly decide how to spend the enormous sum of $50 each in a toy store. With free shipping, I easily voted to conduct all our toy shopping online.

For the past 72 hours, my house has held intense budgeting negotiations over this all important toy purchase. Maria easily agreed to my suggestions for extra food for her play kitchen. Hannah picked out a kid-friendly digital camera to use with her new blog in about 5 seconds. This has left Alex, my future engineer, a boy who is so intense that he should wear a pocket protector in the 1st grade.

Alex and I spent hours pouring over the Toys R Us website on Wednesday afternoon. Then Alex and his Dad spent additional hours talking over his toy options on Thursday night.

This morning, Alex greeted me with his final list: three drawings of various Star Wars Action figures and picture of a Plant Hoth Lego Set. "Mom, the Action Figures cost $10 each and the Planet Hoth set is $20."

"Great!" I said with relief. "Please go ahead and add your toys to our shopping cart while I finish Hannah's reading lesson. I'll be along later to fill in the gift card information for you."

When I finally made it to the computer this morning, I was surprised to find that our online shopping cart at Toys R Us contained 26 items. Alex's total bill made me laugh.

$550.36!

Oh, that pesky little decimal point!

Birth and Death

I discovered that I was carrying this long awaited baby at 11 AM on January 1, 2010, Our Lady's Day. At 10 PM that night, I got a call saying that my maternal grandfather had died.

After a long struggle with infertility and a miscarriage, my father's youngest brother is expecting a son on August 23rd. I've had a lot of fun comparing pregnancy stories with his wife, Amy, since I'm due with the 4th great-grandchild on August 30th.

Today, I got a call saying that my paternal grandfather, Bob Rupp, will start hospice soon for his cancer. He's declining fast.

My Papa might not be alive to see the babies.

Birth and Death. Death and Rebirth.

Our Blessed Mother, please pray for us.

Feast of St. Martha

From a sermon by Saint Augustine contained in today's Office of Reading:

"But you, Martha, if I may say so, are blessed for your good service, and for your labors you seek the reward of peace. Now you are much occupied in nourishing the body, admittedly a holy one. But when you come to the heavenly homeland will you find a traveler to welcome, someone hungry to feed, or thirsty to whom you may give drink, someone ill whom you could visit or quarreling whom you could reconcile, or dead whom you could bury?

No, there will be none of these tasks there. What you will find there is what Mary chose"

Please check out this amazing homily about St. Martha and St. Mary from fellow Third Order Carmelite, Father Dan Gallaugher.

(Father Dan has just finished his first year serving as a parish priest in the Archdiocese of Washington D. C. Our Blessed Mother is shepherding some incredible men into the Catholic priesthood. We are so blessed!)