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Tears and Hope

alec vanderboom

One of my little buddies from the NICU received some sad news this week. Miss Skylar Elizabeth was officially diagnosed as being deaf, a complication from being a "micro-premie" at birth. You can read her brave Mom's post about receiving the news from Children's Hospital here. Sky's on a journey now to get hearing aids and ultimately a cochlear implant.

Please say some extra prayers today for Skylar and her Mom, Tharen.

Hitting the Ball Out of the Park

alec vanderboom

Today was my home school review.

Long time readers know that I've been a bit hysterical about being having my home school methods evaluated by the public school system.

Today, in the wake of being a post-NICU mother. No butterflies! Now, if no one currently has a PICC Line stuck in their heart, then it's automatically an easy day in Miss Abigail's book.

I filled out the portfolio of my kids school work with calm and trust. I knew we didn't have a great semester, (Baby Tessy's long hospitalization through our normal home school routine out the window for almost 3 months) but we survived. I was calm in getting a lack-luster review score considering all the special circumstances of our crazy Fall.

Imagine my surprise when Baby Tessy's hospital stay IMPROVED our score.

My reviewer is an Asian immigrant who is all about the extended family. When she found that the grandparents were heavily involved in my kids education this semester, she was SO excited. That fact got mentioned twice in the formal comments on my kid's permanent school record.

(The fact that my kids HAD to live with their grandparents for 3 weeks because their Mom and Dad had orphaned them during a younger sibling's NICU stay, never even got mentioned.)

According to our Japanese reviewer, "grandparents are everything!"

I just sat there and tried not to laugh out loud. What a funny guy our Jesus is! Here I thought that Baby Tessy's illness ruined the school year, yet her little emergency hospital episode is exactly what won us a ton of extra credit points today.

Letting Go

alec vanderboom

There's a distinct possibility that we might need to empty out our retirement account to pay for Baby Tessy's medical bills.

God is in charge.

I'm applying for charity from two hospitals, so we might not need to zero out the IRA.

Yet, because God is in charge, not me--I need to be ready to make that sacrifice.

(It's not a lot of money, we're poor Carmelites. Our IRA is small. Compared to the gigantic hospital bills that Baby Tess incurred from a 26 day NICU stay, our co-payment portion is equal to a single day of her NICU room & board charges. Everything else is already paid for by our health insurance company)

The sacrifice of our IRA is painful because it represents a sacrifice of my dream of buying a house soon for our family.

For the past three years, we'd saved a tiny bit of Jon's paycheck in an IRA hoping to use the proceeds for a down-payment on a real house.

I've puttered through my life afraid and bitter for a week. "This is it! Apartment Living FOREVER!"

God loves me so much. This week he healed my heart through episodes of Reality Television. (Yeah, this is the productive way I've spent my time this week. Tessy has a cold. We've been stuck in my bed nursing CONSTANTLY. Instead of doing my prayers, I've been watching hours of old reality TV shows on Netflix. I love Jesus because He meets you where you are!)

I saw lots of families who had beautiful huge houses and were very unhappy.

I'll take my healed Tess, my large family, and my small apartment. I'll detach more from wealth and my selfish, tainted dream to become a more "normal" housewife--one who owns an actual house, on an actual block, with real neighbors next door. I'll trade it all for greater "freedom of the heart."

The Queen of Heaven Was Once the Queen of Housekeepers

alec vanderboom

(This passage from "Our Lady Came to Fatima" made me cry with recognition. I'm so similar to Tia Olimpia, the mother of two of the Fatima children. Immediately after the great "Miracle of the Sun" she is consumed with the mundane cares of housekeeping. How tenderly does Our Lady sympathize with us poor mothers and how quickly does she come to our aid!)

"But to the weary Tia Olimpia it seemed that at least three-quarters of the whole seventy thousand were jamming the road that led back to Aljustrel and trying to catch a glimpse of her children. She found it almost impossible to think straight about what had just happened. When she looked back over the events of the past five months, her mind simply bogged beneath the weight of the mystery-- the visions, the messages, the secrets, and now the miracle! And her own little ones at the center of it all! Now, as she trudged along through the crowd, trying to keep her footing in the slippery mud, trying vainly to catch a glimpse of her husband and children, Tia Olimpia's mind took refuge in a most unmysterious thought

"Now I have to go home and clean up the place!"

She groaned out loud. It would take a week at the very least, she thought. At the moment it was impossible to tell the inside of the house from the outside! Even the beds were filthy! [My note: Everything was dirty from the vast muddy crowd that visited the children before the Miracle of the Sun] Tia Olimpia tried to keep her mind fixed on the fact that the Mother of God had just performed a miracle for the sake of her children. But she could not entirely banish the thought of her mud-caked kitchen floor.

At the door of her house she finally caught up with Ti Marto and Jacinta, who he carried in his arms. The little girl seemed faint with weariness and her mother whisked her into the house and started the teakettle before she noticed anything peculiar about the place.

She looked around curiously, then turned to Tia Marto. "Who's been here while we were gone?"

"What do you mean," Ti Marto asked distractedly. ..

"Well look around a little" Tia Olimpia exclaimed. . .

From one end to the other, the house was clean, spotlessly clean, sparkling and fresh as though the fall housecleaning had been finished five minutes before. Not a trace of the mornings mud was left. Not a single print of a single boot was on any of the floors or beds. The bedspreads looked as if they had been freshly washed, starched and ironed.

"Who cleaned this place up?" Ti Marto asked. "Teresa? Was it you?" He turned to the children's godmother.

"Of course not! I was in the Cova all morning!"

"Victoria? Maria? Gloria?"

The ladies simply looked at him. They had seen the place-before and after. They knew perfectly well that no one of them could have put it into its present shape in the length of time the family had been away. Not with all that dirt!

Ti Marto ran his finger over the kitchen floor. . . .He looked at his wife and shrugged. "Well," he said, "Our Lady can do big miracles for the children and little miracles for the parents."

Tia Olimpia did not say anything. . . She had good reason to be pleased with the Queen of Heaven for remembering that she had once been the Queen of Housekeepers."

pg 129-131, Our Lady Came to Fatima. (If you haven't yet checked out the 1950s Catholic Series called "Vision Books" for your kids, hurry to order one online at Barnes and Noble. Each one book is such a treasure. I learn even more than my kids.)

How to Tell that Your Married to a Carmelite . . .

alec vanderboom

In the middle of my lament at Breakfast about the impossible, yucky day I have in front of me . . .

my husband cheerfully says "Wow! You'll have so much to offer up for Vincent! I hope I get to match you in suffering today!"

(Honey, if my whiny, pathetic soul makes it to heaven ---its all thanks to you!)

Mother Teresa: On Prayer

alec vanderboom

"When I was crossing into Gaza, I was asked at the checkpost whether I was carrying any weapons. I replied: Oh yes, my prayer books."

Mother Teresa, Her Essential Wisdom, pg 57.

Ouch!

alec vanderboom

I probably just finished my last conversation with my friend Vincent this side of heaven.
 

He's leaving Mount Saint Mary's Seminary to head back to Africa tomorrow. He's studying for the priesthood with an ordination date that is still uncertain. He asked me to pray for "a safe journey" and for "him to stay humble." Will you join me in prayer?
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It's All Greek to Me-- An Absolutely True Story

alec vanderboom

This morning I found myself praying the Divine Office at my gym's "smoothie bar." (Tessy had a cold, so I kept her out of the gym's babysitting area and Jon had run home to pick up the forgotten swimsuits.)

I held Baby Tess in my lap and marveled over then deep reflections on Our Lord's Baptism. Then I started softly chanting the passages from the Psalms.

A lady sat down next to me at the microscopic size tables.

I got a weird vibe from her from the start, but I just kept focused on my prayers.

Finally, I look up.

Guess what she is reading?

"The God Delusion."

The irony was so funny. The Carmelite and the Atheist sitting side by side.

After a while, I said something. "Do you like your book?" It was so strange because she was so active in liking her book but she sort of fell apart in her defense when she looked at me. It was as if something shiny was distracting her. (Baby Tess? The new wedding ring that I had just asked a priest to bless after Mass 20 minutes earlier? Who knows.)

I am so NOT articulate and strong like my Leila from "The Little Bubble" or Jen from "Conversion Diary". In the middle of trying to be "overly" agreeable while a total stranger explained to me that while she agrees that reason proves that God doesn't exist she didn't like the authors insinuation that all believers are idiots-- I actually said "Cool!" (Sorry Jesus!)

I didn't say anything about chanting 5,000 year old ancient prayers to the scientifically proved "delusion" while sharing her same gym smoothie table.

Then my husband came in. We chatted about our family's work out plans. The lady nearly fell off her stool when she heard mention of 3 other children. I left to change into my work out clothes.

When I got back, the lady had returned to her book and now my husband was praying his Daily Office next to her.

I am SO out of my element in this gym. But God has something going on here that I can't see.

God's Ways Are Not Our Own

alec vanderboom

I'm constantly amazed at the depth and beauty of God's plan for my life.

Two weeks ago, my husband signed us up for a family gym membership I initially feared we'd never use. Today, I sent my husband out to swim laps solo for the first time in ten years. My older kids went to "kids club" at the gym. Hannah had a "Sport & Kids" Class with a young woman who recognized our family from Daily Mass.

Baby Tess has her first cold, so I elected to stay home with her. I thought I was dodging my exercise for the day. Yet when all the Benjamins joyfully reentered the house, I felt something drawing me to the gym. "I think I'll go today too!", I said. I changed into my exercise clothes and gently yanked a needy 3 year old from my leg.

I got to the gym just in time to watch early CNN reports on the "death" of Congresswoman Gifford. (We don't have a TV at home, so this is my only brush with the regular news). I unplugged my headphones from the TV console on my treadmill and instantly started praying rosaries for her soul.

Maybe she's not really dead, I thought. I switched to a Divine Mercy Chaplet.

That was my Saturday, a few minutes before the Mercy Hour of 3:00 PM. Closed eyes. The steady thud of my new sneakers on a treadmill. An urgent prayer after prayer going through my head to God's heart.

"Please don't let her die without the Sacraments, Lord. Please don't let her die . . ."

I worry about the gym. It seems pretty "Greek" to me. There's little signs warning against "gazing" at other members. There's a lot of vanity and pride floating around the atmosphere.

Yet for now, I'm hanging out where God placed me. One poor Carmelite, with a large spare tire "baby belly", running on her treadmill and helping out Jesus by praying the news.

How a Marriage Improves with Time

alec vanderboom

 


Him: "Sweetheart, is there a reason for the limes to be in the freezer?

Me: "I put the limes in the freezer? What was I thinking? Well . . .I guess its been that kinda day."

Him: "I could tell it was a rough one for you I walked in the door tonight. That's why I made sure my question tone was extra gentle."

The Best and the Worse of City Living

alec vanderboom

Today was my first "ZUMBA" class at my new gym.* Picture 80 elderly Asian ladies and Miss Abigail sweating out Latin Dance Moves to Indian Techno music. (Who else is home at 12:30 PM in my neighborhood except for the Asian grandmothers and the solo stay-at-home Mom, right?) The class was super fun!

There was even one 50 year old Mom there with her teenage daughter. It's moments like this where the reality that I now have 3 daughters starts to sink in. I watch that mother/daughter couple with such joy. I can't wait to be doing ZUMBA workouts with my girls.

As much as I loved the class, I'm not sure I'll be back. The daytime child care arrangements at the gym left a lot to be desired. At night, the gym daycare is staffed with the sweetest group of happy teenagers. This is every one's dream high school job. The staff seems like they are having so much fun and all really adore kids.

The atmosphere in the daytime was a completely different vibe. The morning shift was all adult women and each one was so sad and so stressed. Tess had one on one care with a lady in the infant room, but the look on this lady's face was so "dead" and "depressed." I don't judge these women because caring for kids is rough and everyone has a rotten day. I just felt very uncomfortable leaving my tiny baby in that environment.

Worried about Baby Tess, I ended up leaving my class 20 minutes early. She gave me such a big smile when she saw me. My other kids, who were entertained running around on all the cool gym equipment were so bummed. "Do we have to go home so soon!"

I'm really, really blessed to be a stay-at-home Mom who only hands off her children occasionally to people who always say "What a beautiful Baby, bring her here!" Instead of "Hasn't she eaten yet?. . . (sigh)." Today's experience really reminded me today that "choosing" to not to work isn't about depriving my kids of fun ice-skating lessons and cute Gymboree clothes. Its about making sure that the only who is ever grumpy around them is me-- the Mama who shares 50% of their DNA.

*(By the way, Miss Betty Beguiles. A recent immigrant in my class had the cutest modest workout clothes--black yoga pants with a little skirt. It totally beat my own stab at modest coverage for the post-partum Mom, alo pants (the organic cotton line from Nike, I think.) I want what she has!)

Prayer WORKS!

alec vanderboom

I just got an email update from a blog reader from the U.K. Sarah had baby Noah on December 23rd and this bouncing baby boy is already home from the NICU!

A special thank you to everyone who prayed for her to have a safe emergency c-section over the Advent season.

Turning Into Sporty Spice, Part II

alec vanderboom

This is day two of my new exercise routine--Wow!

First, I've got to explain before this week I would have labeled myself as absolutely allergic to exercise. My experiences as a cross-country runner in High School were not good. I believed the world was divided between "jocks" and "bookworms." I firmly planted myself in the second category.

So tonight was a total surprise. I enjoyed myself! I left the house at the grossest part of the day for me (6 PM), dropped off 4 happy kids to the kiddie gym playground and then had almost an hour of rare time alone with my husband.

I did 20 minutes on the cross-country skiing machine, 10 minutes on the rowing machine and lifted (teeny tiny) weights. At the end of my 45 minute exercise routine, my boy bought me a strawberry "recovery shake" at the gym smoothie bar.

My virtue I'm working on in 2011 is "fortitude". That skiing machine was rough. Every time I'd start to fade a bit, my husband would cheer me on with the chant "Fortitude! Fortitude!"

The rest of the time I got to hear about my husband's day in real time. (Usually, we only get to talk after all the kids hit the hay at 9:30 PM.)

Life with God is nothing but surprises. Finding a new way to visit with my best friend everyday is a good one!

Feeling the Itchy Straw on Your Back

alec vanderboom

This Advent season I really meditated on the image of the baby Jesus in the manager. Not the sweet plastic image slapped on a Greeting Card--but that real manager.

Itchy Straw.

Cow Slobber.

The smell of donkey dung in the air.

My question for Mommy Mary at the start of Advent is "Why did you put your baby down in a manager?"

Because I have a newborn, and the urge to protect her is pretty strong.

Mary could have just held the Baby Jesus in her arms immediately after his birth. That's the place where most newborns normally want to be. Jesus could have just come out in his special way, nursed, and they fallen asleep in that warm nook between his mother's chin and her round shoulder. That cozy place is Baby Tessy's favorite spot to nap.

Instead, Our Lady put her newborn son down.

In a real manager.

The one filled with itchy straw and cow slobber and odd donkey germs.

This newborn was not ordinary. Christ was divine. He came to earth for a purpose. To suffer greatly for love. He got down to work moments after birth starting with a strong preference to itchy straw rather than the smooth skin of his mother's neck.

Mary was a real person. Filled with grace. She somehow got Christ's mission. Against all her natural instincts she laid that newborn in the straw. Then she prayed beside his poor uncomfortable bed in wonder and awe.

This Fall, my newborn Tess spent 3 weeks recovering from her near death in the NICU of one of the world's best hospitals for Children.

Tess endured countless needle pokes from IVs and blood draws. I never thought of those needle pokes as itchy straw during her NICU stay. I'm not "More Like Mary" yet. I flinched at each and every poke Tessy received. I never shrugged off an opportunity to hug my baby girl in some intimate kangaroo care.

I hope that next time a kid of mine is in tears, or pain, or emotional suffering--I can be just a tad more holy in my reaction. I don't have to understand suffering. I don't have to like it. But I do need to realize that redemptive suffering is a great mystery that even tiny infants participate in to bring more love into our broken, cold world.

Turning Into Sporty Spice

alec vanderboom

Today has continued to be a great day! Jon had some kind of knock from the Holy Spirit because after five years of yearning, he finally got us a family membership to this fantastic Sport and Health club that is across the street. (We were shocked to discover that because of the bad economy the price of a gym membership is now 1/3 the price from just 2 years ago.)

This place is nuts! The gym has an indoor pool, basketball court, racket ball courts, tons of free aerobic classes and three levels of exercise equipment.

The coolest part is that this gym offers us free babysitting for up to 2 1/2 hours every SINGLE day for all four of my children.

Which means, not only do I have an easy way to lose my remaining 32 pounds of baby weight- 2011 will also bring me Friday night date nights in a Jacuzzi with my HUSBAND!

Who lives like this?

Not two poor Carmelites!

I'm constantly amazed by the generosity of God. Thursday, when I took care of 4 kids alone while suffering from the stomach flu, I was ready to hand in my notice as a stay-at-home mother. Yet today was a fantastic day.

I'm also amazed at "how" God asks you to live. It's really clear that Jon and I are not supposed to own a car or a house right now. At the same time, I've got a new glittery diamond on my finger and a new gym membership key card in my purse.

Jon and I were talking today about "living large" Jesus style.

You give everything up in your life. You follow Him. Then you get a measure back, overflowing.

It's so beautiful. God WANTS my marriages to be strong. He wants me to have time alone with my spouse to reconnect everyday. He wants my body to be in shape so I can haul Baby Tess around without hurting my back and maybe even grow a new Benjamin sometime in the future. God wants my active city kids who live without a backyard in an apartment the size of a postage stamp to have daily physical activity each day.

It's amazing. God loves my family even more than me!

(One more funny note: We cased a massive commotion with all the single people staring at our giant family of 6 at the gym. I don't usually visit environments with large numbers of commit-phobic boys anymore, so it was funny to count how many men were scraping their jaws off the floor in shock and awe. Everyone was freaked out by the size of our family, except for Dustin our member services person. Dustin even asked when we were having one more baby to help even out the brother/sister ratio. In the middle of a business transaction my husband said "Is that a rosary tattooed on your arm?" Dustin said "It is!" My husband gave me a big smile. Our Blessed Mother was on the case yet again.)