I’m ashamed to admit that I’m terrible about remembering the origin of many holidays. My kids will ask me why we celebrate Valentine’s Day or Halloween… and I never have a good answer.

I decided to do a little research to refresh my memory about St. Patrick, and I found out that he and the Saint I share a name with have close ties.

It seems that my parents couldn’t agree on a name if they were to have a girl. My dad had his heart set on a son, and the only possibility they had when they arrived at the hospital was Angela (I so can’t picture me as an ‘Angel’).

On the way to the delivery room, my dad told my mom if it was a girl, he wanted the name Bridget Anne. This was a name she actually liked (bonus-there was a Saint with that name she admired) so she agreed.

My dad didn’t get a son, but he did get a Bridget. I was 3 lbs. 8 oz. and looked like a monkey – but that’s what happens when you’re more than two months premature.

As I read about St. Patrick, I found the following information…

Brigid was the daughter of a pagan chieftain and a Christian slave who worked for him (her mother was said to have been baptized by Saint Patrick). Brigid was named after the goddess of healing, inspiration, craftsmanship and poetry.

Her mother was eventually freed from slavery… and one legend says Brigid returned to her father, who soon after arranged for her to be married.

Brigid refused the arrangement, and so she could maintain her virginity, went to Bishop Mel (a pupil of St. Patrick’s) where she took her first vows. St. Patrick later heard her final vows, and prophesied that she was destined for great things.

St. Brigid’s first convent started with seven nuns. At the invitation of Bishops,she’s said to have started convents all over Ireland.

For those who aren’t aware of St. Patrick’s origin, he was kidnapped and sold into slavery in Ireland when he was 16. For six years he tended flocks and experienced a spiritual awakening as well as divinely inspired visions. These visions and dreams are what led him to escape.

Eventually Patrick became a Priest… and later, a Bishop. During his lifetime he founded churches and schools, at least one college, and basically organized the Church of Ireland.

St. Patrick died around 492, and March 17th is the day chosen to celebrate his death. Where he died is uncertain, although his body was thought to have been buried under the Abbey of Downpatrick, in a shroud made for him by St. Brigid (who is also buried under the Abbey).

Christ beside me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me. ~ Saint Patrick

I didn’t know that Patrick and Brigid’s lives were intertwined, and since I’m Irish… I think it was about time I learned more about this holiday and its history.

Another thing I wasn’t aware of (shame on me) is how the shamrock ties in with St. Patrick’s Day. This is what I found:

In trying to teach his converts about the Trinity, St. Patrick held up a shamrock explaining that the three leaves represented the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, while the stem was the Godhead itself from which they proceeded. This is said to be the origin of the use of the Shamrock which is customarily worn on St. Patrick’s Day.

I hope there was something in this post you weren’t aware of… or maybe I’m the only one who is clueless about this stuff… ?

Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

May the Irish hills caress you.
May her lakes and rivers bless you.
May the luck of the Irish enfold you.
May the blessings of Saint Patrick behold you.
~Irish Blessing

When we’re 10, we can’t wait to turn 13… at 14 we long to be 16… then it’s 18, 21, 25 (if we have a good driving record)… then our desire for those big birthdays seems to taper off.

At 29 we’re amazed that 30 is just around the corner… and 40 is only a hop, skip, and a jump away!

I celebrated the BIG 40 almost two years ago. It wasn’t too traumatic, and I like to think I’m aging gracefully (humor me). To be honest… up until recently, if someone asked me how old I was, I had to really think about the answer.

Unfortunately, this carefree attitude has been replaced with a feeling of anxiety and fear. For the majority of my adult life I’ve joked about turning 49. Now that it’s rapidly approaching… it suddenly isn’t so funny.

Let me explain… just over ten years ago I received a phone call from my dad. He and my mom had been on a business trip to Vegas, and were traveling back to Georgia.

They had a brief stop in Utah on their flight home, and when they arrived a few minutes late… they only had a short time to get to their next gate for boarding.

As they rushed through the airport, my mom was having trouble catching her breath. My dad was concerned, but she kept saying she’d be fine. Eventually he could see that she didn’t look well and made her sit down.

A few minutes later, it was apparent something serious was wrong and my dad knew they weren’t going to make the connection. Soon the airport sent help, and then the ambulance came to transport her to a local hospital.

Thankfully my parents never boarded that second flight. My mom was having a heart attack, and within days she had seven (yes, seven!) bypasses performed.

They were stuck in Utah for weeks… their lives were completely turned upside down… but my mom was going to make a full recovery, and that was the important thing.

This brings us back to turning 49. My mom had her heart attack shortly after her 49th birthday. This by itself probably doesn’t sound that serious, but there’s more…

My grandma (mom’s mom) passed away from a heart attack… guess what the magic number was… 49! There are many other cases of heart disease in the family, but these two instances are enough to concern me (and now my doctor). Just in case you still think I’m being overly paranoid… my dad had four bypasses performed only two years after my mom!

Once I had children, mortality became all too real for me. You don’t realize how different you’ll feel about dying until you’ve given birth to these little creatures that are 100% dependent on you for ALL of their needs.

Now that the dreaded 49 is a mere seven years away… I can’t help but wonder and worry. I get regular check-ups, eat well, and exercise (sort of). The sad thing is… one place that’s extremely tough to monitor are our arteries.

You can have an EKG or a stress test, but to know if those arteries are clogged or not is a mystery. I know they’re coming out with new tests and ultrasounds to try and get a better look… but my doctor doesn’t offer anything like this yet. I’ve been in to see him as recently as last week, and we’re working on bringing my anxiety levels down… then we can discuss other preventative options.

Can all your worries add a single moment to your life? And if worry can’t accomplish a little thing like that, what’s the use of worrying over bigger things? Luke 12:25-26

What I’m coming to realize (slowly) is there isn’t anything more I can do. I’ll continue to take care of myself, work with my doctor, enjoy my family, and pray!

There are no guarantees in life, and for obvious reasons… stress is the LAST thing me or my heart need right this minute. So now it’s time for me… someone who has been a worrier and a stresser since I was a young girl… to try and make some serious changes. I know I’m not alone, and that He will give me the courage and strength I need.

I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for He is right beside me. Psalm 16:8

I need to trust more, fret less, and hang onto the faith and hope that have brought me through some incredibly difficult times in the past… and I know won’t fail me now!

This is a song we sing at church from time to time. It’s upbeat and I love the lyrics. I don’t think we can be reminded about the grace of our God often enough.

But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. Ephesians 2:4-5

My daughter loves to write, and has been asking if she could do a Fun Friday post for me. She thought it would be fun to share some stories of the tween life.

Boy am I glad I don’t ever have to go back!

Here’s Jilly…

Everyone thinks being a kid is so easy, but school is so brutal! Every day is like an adventure, from the cafeteria to the classroom, anything can happen.

With that I present to you…
“A Day in the Life of a Middle Schooler.”

It’s looking at me, I thought, looking back at it.
Ugh, I really don’t want to touch that thing.

My lab partner picked it up. I’d worked the system, so my partner got the joy of dissecting the whole cow-eye by himself, I just had to observe.

As he started cutting it open, I laughed because I didn’t know what else to do. My partner (the tough guy), started gagging. In an attempt to help, I told him just to pretend it was Play-Doh.

It seemed to help. Well, it did until he hit the aqueous humor, that’s when it started to drip!

“Ewwww! Drippy Play-Doh, drippy Play-Doh!”

Poor guy. I’d ruined Play-Doh for him forever!

This next example proves that even lunchtime can be rough…

It was spirit day at my school. The theme was Color Wars. Sixth graders wore white, seventh wore gold, and eighth grade wore blue.

Dressed from head to toe in white, I’d been careful all day. During lunch, me and some of my friends were walking the track. Two of my guy friends have made a game out of sneaking up on me, taking things from my backpack, then running away and returning them later.

They were at it again, and I was running away. The security guard outside blew her whistle, telling us it was time to go to our next class.

I started walking backwards so my friends couldn’t get to me. They were laughing and I didn’t understand why. That’s when I started falling. They had planned it all!

When I had began walking backwards, my friends noticed the huge pile of backpacks I’d somehow missed. They were leading me towards it! In all my clean, white glory… I tripped over the mound of backpacks… into a pile of mud.

By some miracle I caught myself, and got up without a drop of mud on me. My face was flaming red and my hands were aching from the impact, but I got to my next class, ALL the contents of my backpack present and accounted for!
~Jilly

Welcome to the One Word at a Time Blog Carnival on Goodness. Please add your link to the widget below. There are always such amazing thoughts from all of you, and your participation and support are awesome!

To view my post, please scroll down past the link widget.

Thanks for coming to the carnival…

**After you add your info, please refresh the page. If your post does not show up, please try again… make sure your email is provided and NO typos. If it still doesn’t work, send me an email or DM with your info, and I’ll manually input it for you. (Post title, email, url) Every now and then the widget acts up for certain people (you know who you are) and I’m happy to assist.

____________________________________

At the last carnival, we met Mark and Melanie. We soon discovered that the Kindness Mel had shown her husband over the years wasn’t what he needed to feel loved. They had come to a point where there wasn’t much goodness or compassion left in their marriage.

Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive whatever grievances you may have against one another. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity. Colossians 3:12-14

If Mel and Mark can let goodness back in… and apply humility, gentleness, and forgiveness to their relationship, let’s see if things look any different…

My goodness… I had no idea!

“We need to talk,” Mark said forlornly as he watched his wife fold a stack of clean towels.

Melanie quickly looked up, a look of concern crossing her brows at the sadness she heard in his voice. “Is everything alright, Mark?”

Love is patient

“I’m not happy, Mel. I’ve been trying to tell you, but I don’t think you’ve heard me. I keep praying for patience, and now realize I need to communicate my needs more clearly.”

“I thought my subtle hints would be enough and you’d somehow know. I want to feel like I matter and that I’m important to you. Last month when Penny left for college, I really hoped that things might be different. I prayed that with all the kids grown and out of the house, you’d pay more attention to me… ” Mark’s voice tapered off mid-sentence.

Love is Kind

Melanie wiped a tear from her eye, then set the towel she’d been unsuccessfully attempting to fold on the edge of the couch. She timidly approached the spot where Mark was sitting with his head in his hands, and sat down beside him…

“I’ve taken care of you and the kids for most of my life. I wanted you to know how much I love all of you. I cooked, kept the house clean, ran all the errands, made sure the kids got to all their appointments and activities. I tried not to bother you with that stuff unless I had no choice. I thought you were happy not to be inconvenienced with those things, Mark.”

“Mel, I DID appreciate all that you did… and STILL do for us. The problem is, that isn’t what makes me FEEL loved. I’m sorry I didn’t explain it better and clearer before. I also see that it wasn’t fair to expect so much without giving more in return.”

“You mean those times you mentioned us having two different love languages… and we laughed about how ours are completely opposite?” She asked him, knowing that they both had needs that hadn’t been met.

“I guess so… and I shouldn’t have made light of it. I’m sure you’ve felt neglected at times too,” he replied sighing deeply.

It Does Not Envy

“I guess we both were too wrapped up in our own stuff to see how hard it was on the other. It was difficult with you working so many hours, but I could have been more understanding. Maybe if I’d focused more on you and less on the kids,” she sobbed.

“I thought that the recognition I was getting from my job would suffice, and that you and the kids didn’t really need me around. You were taking such good care of everything around here that I felt left out… and even a little jealous. I could have been more helpful to you, and more of a dad to the kids,” he said as he gently placed his hand on Melanie’s trembling fingers.

It Does Not Boast

“I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you to feel like an outsider in your own home. That was never my intention. I was only trying to get by and make the best of a difficult situation.”

“I can see that now, Mel. At the time I assumed you wanted all the glory from the kids… now I’m sorry I didn’t give you… or them… any others options.”

It Is Not Proud

“I wish you would have told me how deeply you were hurting, instead of putting up walls and busying yourself with so much work. All I ever wanted was to be a good wife and mom. I wasn’t trying to be stubborn or shut you out of our lives. You mean everything to me, Mark. You always have and always will!”

“I mistakenly blamed you for all of the disappointments in my life. My expectations weren’t realistic, and I didn’t express myself well at all. I needed more than you were able to give. I’m sorry I let it come between us for so long… it won’t happen again. I love you, Melanie.”

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. 1 Corinthians 13:4-7

It’s carnival time! Our word/topic is Goodness. The widget will be up and running later tonight.

“Wisdom has its root in goodness, not goodness its root in wisdom.” ~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

If you have any questions about how a carnival works, please click here for a brief summary: Carnival Info.

We also have a brand new One Word at a Time Blog Carnival fan page on Facebook… please stop by and chat with other carnival participants, and see upcoming dates and info.

March 23 – faithfulness
April 6 – gentleness
April 20 – self-control
May 4 – Joy

If you have any questions, just let me know and I’ll be happy to help.

See you at the carnival…

I posted this back in November… unfortunately YouTube had some issues and the video didn’t work for most of the day. I really love this song, so I wanted to try again for those who may have missed it the first time…

Each time I sit down to write, whether it be for my blog, or something else I’m working on… I always think about my words. I pray for them to come from my heart, and that if someone needs to read them… they will.

I recently heard this song for the first time. It immediately caught my attention, and now I absolutely love it! It really expresses my desire to reach out and touch others, and what I’d like to say to them… if given the opportunity.

I hope you enjoy it… Happy Sunday!

Last month I was introduced to a fellow blogger that I hadn’t yet had the pleasure of reading. He’s young, talented, and as you will soon see… has a great sense of humor.

Thanks for this fun post, Marty… especially after your long and adventurous drive!

If you haven’t met Marty Duane yet, I definitely think you need to stop by his site… you won’t be disappointed.

Events… Road Trip

Guest post by Marty Duane

Road trips are not pleasant.

Oh, but you say you love them! I’m going to tell you about a series of events. Some of these events will be slightly disturbing… some might make you laugh… but ultimately, they are designed to convince you how unpleasant road trips truly are.

1. I passed an SUV full of teenage girls. As I pulled up next to them, I nervously noticed they were all on their cellphones, including the driver. As they swerved around the road, their fingers never left their phones. As they forced my car onto the rumble strips to avoid them, I humorously thought about what could be so important to text, in the meantime risking all our lives. Maybe… “Meet us! We’re going to buy a scrunchie! LOL” You have to admit, it sounds very important.

2. I was on the I-35 interstate minding my own business when I glanced in my rear view mirror and noticed this huge F-350 duel pickup roaring down on me, although I was already driving 80 MPH. Instead of pulling over to pass me, the stocky construction man is too engrossed in manicuring his mustache in the mirror, and almost runs me over.

He finally decides to pass me, and as he pulls up next to me, I glance over to give him the “Let’s Race Guy Nod” but instead of giving me “the nod,” his face is puckered up and he’s purposely blowing a bubble in my direction. When the big wad of Bazooka™ is nicely displayed in a huge bubble on his round face, I watch as his long tongue protrudes from behind the mustache and dramatically pops the bubble.

His face holds a satisfied gleam as he attempts to get the deflated bubble out of his mustache, all the while staring at me as if to say, “Oh ya…. you better believe it. Feel the burn. You just got served, my friend.”

Not wanting to back down, I reached over and opened my glove compartment. Glancing back at Mr. Bubbles™, I see his eyes wide with fear. He has stopped blowing his second bubble, and it hangs there, slowly losing air and sagging as he continues to watch me dig in my glove compartment. Suddenly he roars away, his F350 drowning out my voice as I yell after him, “No… No! I wasn’t reaching for a gun. Trust me, I’m not that tough. I was just trying to find my watermelon flavored Bubblelicious™!”

3. I only drove 680 miles yesterday, and somehow I managed to gradually undress myself as I drove. I spilled my sweet & sour sauce on my shirt while eating my McNuggets™, dribbled my ice cream cone on my jeans, and at one point the sun had turned my car into a crockpot, me being the roast. One by one, clothes were discarded and replaced with more comfortable, more pajama type attire. By my calculations, if I had driven 452 more miles yesterday, I would have arrived completely commando.

Maybe you have your own road trip horror stories to add. I’d love to hear them!

While struggling to make ends meet over the past year or two… I’ve come to realize how often I forget to be thankful and count my blessings.

Although things have been stressful, and anxiety levels have reached maximum capacity… there is joy to be found in the simplicity of life that we tend to forget when times aren’t as tough.

I seem to have lost my way in these trying times … and it upsets me to think that the majority of the problem is due to lack of income.

How can there be a price-tag on my happiness? Why am I allowing myself to lose hope when the hubby and kids are healthy, we have a roof over our heads, and plenty of food and clothing?

Why does there have to be a terrible tragedy, like the one Haiti experienced, to remind us how fortunate we are? How come a health scare… or a relationship pushed to the absolute limits is what it takes for us to see what is right in front of our eyes — but we’re too blind and self-absorbed to even notice?

I like to think that I have a good grip on… and live in… reality. I know my kids make mistakes and get into trouble… I’m aware my marriage isn’t perfect (honey you can stop reading for a sec)… and that at least 50% of the issues are MY fault.

So why did I become so discouraged and depressed when reality hit me over the head? The economy changed… followed by our lifestyle… then my mood followed suit!

I can’t really say that I’m a glass half-full kinda girl… but I can usually see a silver lining in the dark clouds, or the rainbow during a terrible storm.

I’ve been lacking this type of attitude recently, and my health, as well as my family, have been taking a beating. The worst part is that when you step back and try to separate yourself from the situation, you begin to see things from a whole new perspective and wish you’d done it much sooner.

This is where I’m at now. I don’t see the light at the end of the tunnel (yet)… but I am seeing how the simpler things in life are pretty great once you stop viewing them from a selfish standpoint… we may not stop by Starbucks to grab a drink and a treat very often, but the time we spend together in the kitchen baking brownies and making milkshakes is absolutely priceless!

Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. James 1:17

The little things are important, though they can only bring as much joy as we allow them to. The last few times I’ve driven down my street, I’ve noticed a gorgeous tree that has the most amazing cherry blossoms blooming.

Each time I pass by, I can’t help but smile at its sheer beauty… that’s when the truth hit me… simplicity brings such joy!

I’m now starting to see new beginnings all around me. As spring sits waiting just around the corner… so do many answered prayers and continued blessings.

What simple things might you be missing… or are you good at appreciating the little things that could actually be blessings in disguise?

My intention for this post was to pick a word and write a post, then my kids were going to share a few thoughts on it as well. I thought it would be fun to have the contrasting perspectives.

The topic we chose is Hypocrisy. When I read what they wrote I was amazed. We talk about things pretty openly in our home, but I had no idea just how strongly they felt on this subject.

I’ve decided instead of posting my own feelings, I’m only going to post theirs. I won’t edit or make any changes… I want it to be in their exact words with all the emotion they put into it.

Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity. 1Timothy 4:12

My boy is 14 and loves to express himself by writing song lyrics. He’s usually very private and I’m honored and touched he chose to let me share these…

I can’t wait to to find out how we human’s are gonna screw up next time around, I can’t wait to know what the world will do to itself tomorrow, there’s been one too many hypocrites, and one too many liar’s, one too many people that will burn out my fire, there’s been one too few good Samaritan’s, and not enough people that want to love, so step out now good Samaritan’s, so step out now good people of our mighty God, and let’s fulfill what we’re called to do. Let’s show everyone the love of Christ, let’s show everyone what this world could be like! Let’s light some fire’s, and watch them shine forever! ~Andrew

My girl is 12 and I often like to say to her… “Tell me what you really think!” Once again, she doesn’t disappoint while sharing her feelings on hypocrisy…

People like to say they reach out to others, that they show their faith through their actions in their everyday lives. But do they where it really counts?

I have these two friends who are best friends themselves. One’s a Christian, the other isn’t. Neither go to church, and for the same reason.

They hate the judgment they get there. My friend who is a Christian says he doesn’t go to church because he doesn’t fit in, and he hates how all the people are segregated based on how they act.

People say I’m a Christian but I’m this kind. If you’re a Christian you’re a Christian, there’s no maybe’s, or halfways about it, so why separate everyone? He says who cares if you’re Baptist or Methodist, you’re a Christian and that’s it.

My other friend doesn’t go to church because every church he has ever gone to, he’s felt judged, and like he didn’t fit in. He says he’s just not the church type, but really, who is? I think the “church type” is anyone willing to take a leap of faith and go and listen.

So why is it no one reaches out to these people? Because they aren’t the sad, lonely kids who sit alone at lunch? Just because someone has friends doesn’t mean they shouldn’t be accepted.

Christians are supposed to be accepting of everyone, but only on their terms? I’ll accept you for who you are, but only at school or at work or here or there but not in church because you’re not like everyone else there. But God made everyone different, so why would we want everyone in HIS church to be the same?

People are too judgmental, and it ruins the idea of what Christianity is all about. Love and faith and acceptance, not judgment or exclusion or telling people how they should be. And I think it’s funny, that my Christian friend who doesn’t attend church, has a much deeper understanding of what faith is all about than people who go to church every Sunday for their whole lives.

When we judge others, you’re really only judging yourself. The things you see wrong in others is most likely what you hate most about yourself. Remember that next time you see someone new sitting next to you in church. ~Jillian

How many of us feel this same way… or worse yet… how many of us act this way and don’t even realize it? If you haven’t spoken to your kids about this because you don’t think they have an opinion.. you might want to think again!