40 Days of Gratitude

The year I turned 25, I gave up chocolate and caffeine simultaneously...never again.  That, nearly broke me.  I've tried eliminating sweets, carbs, alcohol, cursing, yelling at my kids, binge Netflix watching, Facebook, you name it, I've given it a Lenten go.

I've never been good at removing food items or electronics or cursing or wine or....well,....I probably should try harder.  Recognizing my material weaknesses only seems to make my Catholic guilt shine brighter.  So instead of feeling like a consummate loser, three years ago, I made a decision to write a letter of gratitude every day for 40 days honoring the people that I can't imagine life without.

Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of the Lenten season and so I dutifully got my pen, paper, stamps and candle out.  I try to carve out a sacred space (okay, I turn my dining room table into a mini sanctuary) to reflect and to share my love and ultimately, my gratitude through the written word.  When I'm done (I know it sounds contrived), I sit with the letter and try to pour a sense of me into it, so that when it's received and read, it's absorbed with the full impact of my appreciation for our connection, my prayer for their life and my hope for the future.

I write both letters that are mailed and letters that are not.  I learned this a few years ago.  Sometimes, writing to those who have left me in one form or another is equally as sacrificial and cathartic.  One letter in particular, I wrote to my grandmother who has long sense been gone, but who resides in my heart...the writing of the words to her in this time of reflection was both powerful and meaningful.

Lest we get bogged down in what we do or don't do during Lent, I do believe that it's a time to be mindful in whatever way makes sense to you of what is truly important.  For me, the world is filled with distractions, too many to name really.  And at every turn, we're begged to check out from that which we feel, which causes us pain or brings us ultimately closer to our own lives, those we love, and to God.

So, if there is a moment or 40 where we can say, no distraction, not now, not in this time and space...well, then it's a worthy pursuit to draw closer to that which we are called to be...loving, grace-filled, serving, connected people.

That said, I don't believe for a minute that you have to be Catholic, to go on a Lenten journey, because as the amazing Anne Lamott professes in "Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith"....

“It's funny: I always imagined when I was a kid that adults had some kind of inner toolbox full of shiny tools: the saw of discernment, the hammer of wisdom, the sandpaper of patience. But then when I grew up I found that life handed you these rusty bent old tools - friendships, prayer, conscience, honesty - and said 'do the best you can with these, they will have to do'. And mostly, against all odds, they do.”


Here's to finding your space to be in silence, mindful of what matters to you, right now, always.

Sacred Time

I picked up my middle child sick from school yesterday.

She came down with the dreaded flu that her younger sister most likely gave to her or any of the other kiddos in her class at school.

High fever, chills, no appetite, exhaustion.

After a night of alternating ibuprofen and acetaminophen, we both woke up tired.

I turned on the coffee and she grabbed a blanket and the couch.

Wringing out the wash cloth with really cold water, grabbing the Gatorade and making the toast, I thought, I can't run, not for 10 miles.

My phone said that the temp was 41 degrees.  Perfect. The sun was masked but only slightly by the clouds and I had new songs on my playlist.  And I only had a short window, my son had a flag football game, so I had to be back in an hour and a half.

Scarfing down a banana and grabbing my gear, I left.  And I ran and I ran and I ran.  Never stopping until I made it home.  It was glorious.  There really is nothing better than running in the fall.

But then, I came home and Kate's fever had spiked again and she was miserable.  We laid down together and took a long nap, but right before we fell asleep, she said, "Thanks for taking care of me, mama."

Always, I love you.

"I love you too.  And when you get sick, I'll take care of you."

To which, I instantly transported myself to end of life thoughts and thought about my daughter putting cold wash cloths on my head until I could no longer bear it.

This time is sacred.  There's no question that pop up illnesses are inconvenient and detour us from the plans we've made, but they are brief, gentle reminders to slow down and to serve those we love. It really is one of the holiest things we can do for each other.

Here's to her fever breaking and hot coffee in the morning.

Days are Long

I know all of the mantras.


Don't wish this time away.

Before you blink, they'll be grown and gone.

The days are long, the years are short.

You can't imagine it now, but you're gonna miss it...best time of my life.


And yet, this morning as I was rushing around to get it all done, I slowed for a moment and remembered...

Fork, knife, spoon, coffee mug, juice glass, water bottle, towels in dryer, whites in the washer, jammies in the pajama drawer, toothbrushes in their holders, pull the covers up, throw the pillows on, pull out of the driveway tuning her favorite CD, kiss her, leave a note in her mailbox, grocery store, apples, can't forget the toilet paper, Target, why am I here at least twice a week?, gas station, why do these birds keep shitting on the car?, bank, deposit jewelry money, meeting at church, back to the preschool, oh my God...I'm not drinking enough water for the race tomorrow, shit...what if I get lost on the course?, and now she's whining, uh oh, she feels warm, oh no, no fevers before tomorrow, back to the house, boil water for the macaroni and cheese, construction paper on the table, oil pastels, you spell it...C...L...A...I...R...E., shit, I forgot to pull his work shirt out of the dryer, have to call back the dentist, she needs to get that tooth pulled, why won't they let us wear headphones on the course?, can I run the whole time without music?, is his jersey clean for the football game tomorrow? damn, macaroni and cheese boiling over...

This is about 3.5 hours of my morning.  I know, you're glad you're not me.

I live in my head a lot.  Remembering, planning, strategizing, organizing, keeping track, praying, hoping, being grateful.

And while I trust that this time is sacred, it is also incredibly exhausting and full, very, very full.

I'm certain that many other women do it better.  They have systems in place.  They're creative.  They're organized.  Or, they just don't give a shit.

I'm in the space of trying to be appreciative while simultaneously being butt ass tired.

So, it's hard to not want this time to pass because I really do look forward to space, time to think, the idea of being alone, and a bit more sufficiency from my littles.

But as I look at them and listen to them, I am mindful that this is the great adventure, exhausting as it may be.