Becky's World

The End of an Era

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Mon, 08 May 2023 15:18:00 +0000

Blessing Mass 2015

And you shall love the LORD your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. And these words which I command you this day shall be upon your heart; and you shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. —Deuteronomy 6:5-7

This was the scripture that tugged at my heart and inspired me to homeschool my children. When I began my homeschool journey, I had no idea how much my life would be changed by it. My husband likes to refer to our homeschooling as a social experiment because our older three children attended public school and went through the typical secular route, but our younger were raised in a completely counter cultural environment. Today, I can officially say that our social experiment has come to an end. My last homeschooled child completed her high school requirements and is now planning her graduation party and my two youngest are finishing up their first year at Valor Education. As I reflect on our homeschool journey, I am completely astounded that it lasted 23 years!

When I began this journey in the year 2000, it was just a trial. I actually did not want to homeschool. I enjoyed going to work but life took quite a turn when we took in my two young nephews. They were so behind academically that I spent the entire summer trying to get them caught up. After seeing how well I worked with them, my husband tried to talk me into homeschooling them but was unsuccessful. By the time they reached middle school, we had become very disillusioned with the public school system and were looking for alternatives. Naturally we looked into Catholic schools first. At the time, there were no Catholic schools near us but there was one in the planning stages. My husband and I decided to contribute to the building fund in hope of having a school by the time our younger kids were school age. When my first little turned four, the school’s campus was not yet complete. It was my Christian neighbor from across the street who suggested I homeschool. My husband took advantage of her suggestion and echoed the encouragement. Quite frankly, I looked at my sweet innocent two pre-schoolers and couldn’t bear the thought of sending them to school where I knew sooner or later their innocence would be lost. Then God sent Deuteronomy 6:5-7. I caved.

One of the first things I noticed when I began our homeschool journey was how much I missed my community. I recalled how many parents I got to know just by talking to them outside the school as we waited for the bell to ring. As a homeschool parent, I felt very much isolated. I knew that if this experiment was going to work, we needed other people just like us who loved their faith and wanted to provide opportunities for their kids to learn their faith, serve their community, and play together in a safe environment. That’s how Families in Support of Catholic Home Education (FISCHE) was conceived. From the beginning, FISCHE’s mission was to provide interpersonal connections. The last thing I wanted was another e-mail list to add to my already long list of email subscriptions. We already had a small group of homeschooling families meeting regularly, but we were quickly outgrowing our meeting spaces. It was time to move forward with the vision. But before FISCHE could come to be, we needed to get past our first obstacle, the Church.

Imagine being a significantly large community of moms with multiple kids, who attend daily Mass, volunteer at the church, educate their kids in the faith, go completely against the cultural norms in order to pave the way to heaven, but not having a place to meet. Sure there were local parks and homes, but as I already stated, our homes became too small and the parks were too defenseless against the weather. We needed a place to have All Saint parties, potlucks, and regular playdates. Now imagine that there were Catholic churches with empty rooms and playgrounds throughout the day where said families naturally gathered frequently for morning Mass. Yet, we were constantly told that these spaces that we contributed towards with our faithful tithe were not for the for the purpose of serving our families. “We are not a school.” “Why don’t you enroll in Catholic school?” “Why can’t you meet somewhere else?” “You are not a ministry.” and so forth. Finally, it took the courage of a handful of women to come together and present our dilemma to our parish priest and our diocese. We researched, provided statistics, studied the catechism and responded to every objection. Long story longer, FISCHE was born and about seven years later, FISCHETeen. Not only did we now have a community of friends who shared our love for Christ, the Church, and family life, but also was born, a beautiful symbiotic relationship with the church. Our group became a focal point for young families and a wellspring for service and fostering vocations. I can truly say that I am a better person today because of the friendships who nourished, encouraged, and challenged me during my homeschooling years and I could not have done any of this without them.

So you might be wondering, what happened? Why did you put your younger girls in school? Three things happened. First, social media. At first social media was a great way to coordinate field trips and other events. It helped me to get information out faster and I loved how conversation threads were so simplified compared to the long emails of before which included all the text from previous emails. I did have to convince several mom’s to create an account but the transition was mostly welcome. During that time, we had an explosion of members, going from about 12 families and quickly growing to about 30. It was great at first. We were having weekly playdates, monthly mom nights, liturgical workshops, regular field trips, retreats, and even coordinated a couple of homeschool conferences. But then something interesting began to happen, we were continuing to get new members, but there were not more people showing up to events. Then attendance really started to come down. It got to the point where field trips were having to be canceled due to low attendance. That’s right about when the second thing happened, hybrids.

A hybrid is a part-time school. Teachers are typically homeschool moms and students attend one or two days of school but most of the work is done at home. This seemed to be something that benefitted mom’s with high school kids. They were having problems juggling their older kids while keeping up with the lower grades. Then throw in a toddler or two, and you have a very overwhelmed momma. Interestingly, when we first created FISCHE, we had to sign an agreement with the church stating that we were not using the premises for the purpose of academics. They didn’t want us to be holding “school” on church grounds. We were specifically to be a ministry for Catholic families who needed a place to hold religious social events. This same church was to become the host for one of the new hybrid “schools”. These hybrids created an alternate community. Coupled with the fact that tons of homeschool classes were now being offered during the day for extra-curricular activities and sports, kids and moms now had other places and reasons to meet so the importance of a support group was no longer a priority. And quite frankly, there was less time for it as kids were being carpooled from one activity to another.

Then there’s the third and final reason we put our girls in school, the school itself. In the year 2000, we didn’t have any Catholic schools near us in which to enroll our kids. Once the school was established, we quickly learned that it was not affordable for large and growing families like ours. After having so much control over our children’s Catholic curriculum, the school curricula seemed to fall short of our expectations. As of recent, charter schools began to pop up here and there. Most were just an extention of the secular education found in local public schools but there were two which seemed to stand out. The first, Founders, used a classical curriculum which our homeschoolers found very appealing as it provided a foundation that mimicked that which they used at home. The school itself wasn’t a Catholic school, nor was it a Christian school, but many of the educators were. The second, Valor, was also a classical academy though this one seemed to focus on virtue and educating the whole person. As a Theology of the Body student and instructor, this appealed to me very much but the school was much too far to even consider.

When COVID happened and the world shut down, our homeschool group was one of the very few things that didn’t shut down. Even while our churches were closing down and Masses were being held at home, a priest, one of our very dear and early homeschool supporters, kept his church doors open for us to continue to meet. During this time, a new Valor school opened near our home, it too kept its doors open to students and teachers. This type of fearlessness is what inspired most of our homeschool journey. It’s the stuff Saints are made of. I can say that lockdowns helped us to see clearly where Christ stood in the hearts of many of our church and city leaders. As someone who has spent the last 23 years building a community and an alliance with the Church, I couldn’t believe it was all taken away in an instant.

From where I stand right now, I can look back with joy at the many obstacles we overcame as Catholic homeschoolers. I am thankful for all that we were able to accomplish and I hold the friendships we made in a very special place in my heart. But looking ahead, I don’t see the same tight knit homeschool community we began 23 years ago. Many families didn’t return immediately after lockdowns. My girls began having a hard time connecting with other homeschoolers. My youngest, who is very social, had no friends her age, and for the first time ever, one of my children asked to be enrolled in school. The Valor near our home had only been open for a couple of years but I had already heard many good things about it. Many of my friends were either working there, or had kids there. We got on the waiting list and surprisingly, made it in before the new school year began. Valor has been both, a welcome and difficult transition. Letting go has its own fears and challenges. I’m not gonna lie— I served my homeschool and faith community so many years that being on the receiving end is a welcome change. But allowing someone else to help form my children is something that is very counterintuitive for me.

As I look at my (and others') homeschool graduates, now young adults and some with families of their own, I am filled with so much peace. My rule of life was to provide a moral ground built upon the teachings of the Church. I cared little about WHAT my children would become, but focused more on WHO they were to be. They are not perfect. They all have their own challenges and flaws, but they all still love Jesus and attend Mass weekly. They have even managed to only accept jobs that give them Sundays off which makes it easy to plan family gatherings (when we’re not volunteering for Religious Education). They love each other dearly and miss each other when they are not together. As the grandbabies begin to trickle in, our joy is multiplied even more. Our social experiment may have come to an end, but the fruits continue to fill my cup, and how it does overflow!

My Secret Lover

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sat, 11 Feb 2023 01:00:00 +0000

This year will mark the 35th Valentine Tony and I celebrate as a couple. We have had some really good Valentine days together, and we've had some pretty crappy ones. Sometimes when I think back at all that we've gone through as a couple, it's hard to see how we've managed to stay together throughout the years. We all need love to thrive, so how have I managed to love someone who has often failed at loving me rightly? I'm sure he could ask the same question. One of my favorite JPII quotes is this:

"Man cannot live without love. He remains a being that is incomprehensible for himself, his life is senseless, if love is not revealed to him, if he does not encounter love, if he does not experience it and make it his own, if he does not participate intimately in it."

I am so glad that I do not depend on Tony's love to be happy. Don't get me wrong, his love makes me very happy, but sometimes, he stinks at it. Don't we all? And yet during these times when he has failed at loving, I experience love most deeply for it is in these dark moments, that my true lover reveals himself to me. He lays close to me in the darkness and listens to every single utterance that wells up from the pit of my suffering.

I encounter love even when I try to flee from it. When I am angry and resentful, my lover finds me. He sends me little messages that he's written just for me; for these moments when my own words seem to fail.

I experience love in ways that I didn't know love could be experienced; in the quiet stillness of my mind, in the solitary beating of my heart. I receive it. I cherish it. I hold it close letting it wash over me. I breathe it in, letting it enter deep into my heart. And breathe it out cleansing me of the hurt that once occupied my being. Then, what was once incomprehensible, makes sense again. I have been set free and am ready to love again.

God is Good Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 01 Jan 2023 00:59:00 +0000

When the kids were younger, we'd go on little pilgrimages throughout Texas. Homeschooling made it easy to take day trips here or there. As the kids got older, work schedules got in the way so our day trips pretty much came to an end. When I heard about the Treasures of the Church traveling relic exposition, I could hardly believe it! Over 150 sacred relics coming through our diocese, and stopping at my former parish in Austin, it was as if they were coming just for me! I told my family about it and several of the kids wanted to come with us so we put it on the calendar.

We had almost forgotten about it, but I got a reminder a few hours before it began. Our Fridays are usually pretty chill as we begin to unwind from a busy work week, so going out on a Friday night isn’t usually something we like to do. I convinced the hubs to go and was surprised that our girls still wanted to come.

It was November 18, and both Sophie and I were having a hard time health wise. As we looked ahead to Thanksgiving, we had already decided to “push the easy button” as my dear friend would say, so we ordered a pre-cooked turkey and brisket from one of our favorite BBQ restaurants. I couldn’t remember a time I felt so bad, heart-wise. Even my pre-surgery fatigue was nothing compared to the weakness and fluttering I was experiencing during this time. I was waking up with leg pains, shortness of breath, and dizzy spells. I needed to get back to my cardiologist fast. I didn’t think I could wait till the new year but had to get through the holidays. We would not be inviting anyone over for thanksgiving but were so thrilled to have our oldest visit from California. I prepared to do the bare minimum.

What y’all need to know, is that Sophie and I run the household together. Sophie is my right hand, my mini me, and the joy in our house. I hate to see her so sick and still with no real explanation. She powers through most days but I can always tell when she’s in pain. She usually has to plan her days carefully. Will she make a trip to Hobby Lobby or bake cookies? She would love to do both but her legs will only carry her so far. She’s been blessed to be able to work from home and uses her time very wisely. It truly pains me to know her pain. When I started feeling sick, she was the one I worried about because I knew she would try to take on more than she could handle. Perhaps she would find healing through one of the holy relics at this exposition? That’s why I couldn’t pass up this opportunity. I couldn’t believe she wanted to come. It had been a long day and I know she was tired, but she thought she’d be ok, if she could bring her wheelchair.

I have to say, bringing her wheelchair was both good and bad. It was good because Sophie didn't have to be on her feet all night, like the rest of us. But it also gave her the privilege of not waiting in line to see Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. To be honest, it felt really awkward cutting in front of the line, especially since our family is so large. We felt bad for everyone else who was in line, so we rushed through these precious relics as quickly as we could. The other relics were in a separate building, so we decided that we would wait in line with everyone else as we headed to the other building.

The Apostles

What an incredible experience! Though, very exhausting. The night began with a two hour lecture, standing room only, followed by the veneration of the relics. There were so many! It was as if all 20 years of our Catholic homeschool journey were all gathered there in one room! I cannot even describe what it felt like to see and touch the relics of all the saints I had been learning about for the past 20 years. They were all there! Mary, Jesus, Joseph, all
the apostles, Mary Magdalen, Longinus, Margaret Mary, Joseph of Cupertino, every one of our patron saints, JPII, Pío, Goretti, Kolbe, Avila— I prayed for each of my kids before each of their patron Saints. Even Sophie’s little-known patron, St. Margaret of Castelló was there. We spent another 2 hours touching and praying with relics and we never even got to see them all. We got about half-way done before our girls had enough. I myself was pretty exhausted, but was willing to suffer every consequence to be there. How I wished I could just stay the night. What a gift this poor priest had brought us! I felt envious and sorry for him at the same time. I pray for him even now; the amount of work that goes into bringing these relics to every end of the earth is unfathomable.

That night I got home feeling completely spent. I fully expected to be up all night with leg pains and heart palpatations. But my thoughts were on heaven as I put myself to bed. I imagined being able to see all these Saints in heaven someday. There was nothing I wanted more. I was at peace.

The next day, I woke up and found that I could breathe better than I had in weeks. The tightness in my chest was gone. For the first time, since the episode in the summer I felt very normal. Days went by, then weeks. Except for that previous foot injury (that is slowly improving), and regular age related stuff, I feel as though there is absolutely nothing wrong with me. My heart feels very much like it did just after surgery.

I don’t recall asking God for healing that day. It was for my kids and family that I prayed for healing. I did ask Mary to help me be a better mom but I had been completely ok with my state in life. I don’t know why God chose me. I often tell Him, "I don't know why you love me so much." I don't feel like I will ever merit it. But I am thankful. I often take a nice deep breath just because I could, and my heart overflows with gratefulness.

St. Joseph Cupertino

At the end of the lecture, Father asked us to look for a sign from one of the Saints who wants to become our friend. My sign came from St. Joseph Cupertino who's feast day is on my birthday. I've only known him as the "flying Saint" because he would often levitate during prayer. I'm not sure why he chose me, but he now resides in my heart with St. Theresa of Avila, John Paul II and countless other Saints who have chosen me through the years. When I pray my Rosary, I feel as though all the Saints who touched my Rosary are praying with me. What a gift!

"The witnesses who have preceded us into the kingdom, especially those whom the Church recognizes as saints, share in the living tradition of prayer by the example of their lives, the transmission of their writings, and their prayer today. They contemplate God, praise him and constantly care for those whom they have left on earth. When they entered into the joy of their Master, they were "put in charge of many things." Their intercession is their most exalted service to God's plan. We can and should ask them to intercede for us and for the whole world." CCC 2683

God is Good Part 1

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Tue, 13 Dec 2022 18:23:00 +0000

I'm taking a break from my crafting to write about something I've been wanting to jot down for a while. It's one of those once in a lifetime things that over time makes you wonder if you dreamed it. So I wanted to blog about it before the details begin to fade, as I'm sure they already have to some degree.

I hadn't told many people that I failed my stress test when I saw my cardiologist in May this year. Due
to my valve surgery I need to get my heart checked out yearly and I was surprised that this year's test affected me so much, considering I had been walking 3 miles a day for so many years. Though, due to a foot injury, I had stopped walking around February of this year. The doctor immediately sent me in for some scans and he did find some calcification, though not anything too unusual for my age. But we did talk at length about how my valve repair was deteriorating and I needed to start thinking about getting health insurance for any upcoming medical procedures I might need. I didn't worry too much about my heart, I've known that my valve repair would only last so long. My greatest concern is that two of my daughters were having some unusual medical problems. They were seeing many specialists and doctors and we couldn't seem to find the cause for their pain. I didn't want to add more medical expenses on top of those that we already had. Besides, I know that there is not much they can do for my heart valve that they didn't already do. Unless there has been some sort of medical breakthrough in the last several years, it is what it is. And I'm honestly ok with that.

On June 26, our son, Jesse announced that he was returning to Seminary and almost immediately we felt a dark cloud descend over our home. Not that we were not happy for him, but that the enemy was not happy for him. Just then, I remembered about a post that one of the Deacons in our Diocese posted about some online deliverance sessions by Msgr. Stephen Rossetti, exorcist for the Diocese of Washington. So I signed up. My main reason for joining, was for healing for my daughters, but I knew it would help with that dark cloud too. It was scheduled for June 27, but for some reason, I didn't see my e-mail reminder until it had passed on June 28. They do post the recorded sessions online so I decided to go ahead and go through it anyway. I couldn't find the June 27 session, so I decided to do a different session, after all they couldn't be too much different. Though later I found that there was a special prayer for physical healing, and he named all the the things that were afflicting our family.

I started the video, but not long into it, I began to fall asleep. I was trying to keep my eyes open but it was challenging. I could hear the prayers but it was as if they were in a different dimension. Then quite suddenly, I was startled by a white sword that came down as if to slash something. This sent a white light that I could feel go into my chest. It was very powerful and I literally felt it go straight through me. I felt a rush of adrenaline as I heard Monsignor’s authoritative voice breaking unholy ties. After completing the deliverance, I began to wonder if it was the sword of St. Michael that came down to sever those ties. But upon going back to listen to the prayer again, I heard Msgr. Rossetti call upon the “Sword of Jesus” to cut unholy relationships. It was at that point that I had this experience.

Later that evening I went to do my regular swimming exercises. I had started swimming every other day after my failed stress test. On this night when I swam I noticed that I wasn't getting tired like I usually did. I looked to see how many laps I had done and I was at 20. I'm usually so tired by the time I hit 20, but on this evening, I felt very energetic. I didn't have my usual shortness of breath or chest pains. I thought maybe my watch wasn't working properly (it counts my laps for me) so I started counting my own laps, and after my 40 laps, I still did not feel tired. I felt so young! I literally felt 17 again! I ended up swimming the 40 laps in 23 minutes. That's less time than it usually takes me to swim 25 laps and I probably could have done even more, but I didn't want to overdo it. Two days later when I swam again, I had the same experience; I swam 40 laps in about 25 min. I don't recall ever being able to swim that much especially not without resting in between.

This renewal lasted about a month. Gradually, my stamina began to return to its normal state. By the end of the summer shortly after my 53rd birthday, things were very much back to normal. But I remember thinking that first evening as I was swimming back and forth across my pool, "this is what it will be like after the resurrection" and what joy I felt in my heart in anticipation to that day. I praise God for his goodness and have extreme gratitude for that experience, though I do still feel very unworthy of the gift.

So much has happened since that first night in June. My girls started going to a brick and mortar school; something that wasn't even on my mind that first night in June. My kids and husband are all in a good place, but my health began to decline rather quickly. It got to the point that I couldn't handle my day to day duties. Tony started taking on more of the household chores and we started looking into hiring some help. I still always think back to that night though. It left me with a deep desire for the resurrection.

I had not communicated any of this to my kids. Many still don't know. But since my daughter was planning to come see us for Thanksgiving, I thought perhaps that was a good time to talk about the state of my health.

Instead God gave me a different story to tell. That will have to be part two of this blog.

My Marriage

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Mon, 09 Jul 2018 14:43:00 +0000

A couple of days ago, my husband and I celebrated our 28th Wedding Anniversary. My Facebook status read: "28 yrs. have flown by! I love my marriage and am so happy to share it with this guy." While every word on my status is true, I feel the need to paint a clearer picture of what that means.

I love my marriage! Marriage was literally the best thing I've ever done in my life. It completely changed the course of my life, and it has helped me to become a better person. I am so glad I get to live out my marriage with Tony. He is the sweetest and most charitable man I've known and we make a great team.

That being said, there have been so many times when my marriage is a thorn on my side, and countless others when my beloved has said or done something to hurt the deepest places of my heart. There have been mornings when I wake up in my husband's arms and never want to leave, and by evening, I don't want to be in the same room, much less share a bed with him. Yet, I love my marriage; because love takes the good with the bad. Love is knowing that emotions change by the minute, whether good or bad. So you appreciate every second of the good, and you trust that the bad will pass. Love knows that after every darkness of the night, there is a glorious morning and also that all glorious mornings must come to a close to make way for a new beginning. So love accepts the morning and the darkness because love does not live for the passions of today. Love lives for the eternal where Love itself dwells in timeless ecstasy. But even perfect Love had to accept the ring of suffer-ring in order to bring his bride into eternity. Therefore we accept both, the agony and the ecstasy. One, the cross that brings us closer to perfect Love, the other a resting place to sustain us for the Journey.

So we continue on the road, 28 years thus far, and though the world tells us we are doing fine, we hold one another to much higher standards because our goal is not of this world; our goal is eternity where we will drink from the wines in the cellar of God and our joy will be everlasting.

I will espouse you to me forever: I will espouse you in the right and in justice, in love and in mercy; I will espouse you in fidelity, and you shall know the Lord. -- Hosea 2:21-22

The Last Firsts

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 04 Feb 2018 17:56:00 +0000

About a week ago (on January 25th to be exact), my baby received the Sacrament of Confession for the first time. As we sat there waiting for her turn to go in, I couldn't help but think of the many times she had to wait patiently in the pew for our family to receive the same Sacrament. All of her life she has been a silent witness to this Sacrament.

One time, when she was about 3, she asked if she could go to Confession too. I've had many children desire Communion before their time, but this was the first time one wanted Confession. I wondered what it was that she saw as she watched one family member after another wait in line to enter the confessional. Did she see desire as we counted every single line, calculating the number of penitents with the average number of minutes it would take to see each one, then carefully splitting up into separate lines to make sure we would all make it to the front? Did she see the disappointment those days that we neared our turn only to be turned away because the priest had run out of time? Did she see the sparkle in our eyes and the joy in our hearts as we danced out of Church after receiving absolution?

Before Confession

I thought so many times about her first confession. I wanted her to approach the Sacrament with the same holy desire that she showed that day at age 3. It feels as though she has been preparing for this her entire six years of life! We were all very happy and excited for her on her First Confession; but underneath the joy, I experienced a tinge of sadness. This was my last First Confession. There had been other lasts in the previous 6 years: my last to sleep in her own bed, my last to potty train, my last to learn to read, my last to homeschool; every one of these, joys and heartaches.

As I sat there watching my baby enter the confessional, I couldn't help but think of all the upcoming lasts: the last to wear the First Communion dress, the last to make her Confirmation, the last to graduate . . . more heartache. With every new stage, I am encountering a silent goodbye. These fleeting moments, they all mean something. There is not one that has been insignificant but every one a piece of the big picture; one of which I am allowed to partake but not to complete. These thoughts always lead me to Mary who "kept all these things, reflecting on them in her heart". I am finding that a sword does pierce my heart too. Not one, but hundreds of little ones. Maybe this is a mother's fate. But I pray that someday, I will be able to stand beside her, and all mothers in heaven, and look down at that glorious picture which we helped to create. Then, will my heart be full.

After Confession

Making Visible the Invisible

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Fri, 03 Jun 2016 11:09:00 +0000

About four years ago, I participated in a weight loss program that redirected the focus from weight loss and placed it on sacrificing for others. Having just gotten back from a Theology of the Body immersion course, I found the program very meaningful and successful.

One thing that I didn't quite count on was all the attention that the weight loss would get me. Everywhere I went, people would point out my weight loss. Everyone wanted to know what I was doing, and most appeared disappointed when I simply told them, "I'm eating less and praying more". I never quite liked those conversations. I know people meant well, and I'm sure some were even trying to be encouraging. But all this attention made this little introvert very uncomfortable. It wasn't just the attention I was getting from my friends, but also complete strangers. I began to notice glances similar to those that men had given me during the peak of my youth. I really began to miss being invisible.

St. John Paul II, in the Theology of the Body, tells us that the body makes visible the invisible. That our bodies reveal the person, and the divine. So if this is true, why did I all of a sudden, want to be invisible? In the beginning, Adam and Eve were naked without shame. They saw one another with complete purity. St. John Paul tells us they saw and knew each other “with all the peace of the interior gaze” (TOB 13:1). But we all know how the story goes. After the fall, they lost that interior gaze. They were no longer able to look at one another with perfect purity. So they sewed fig leaves and covered themselves.

I wanted to become invisible, not because I was trying to hide, but because I was trying to protect. The focus on my weight loss became a focus on my body. I felt as though so much attention was given to my body, that my personhood (that which you cannot see) was becoming greatly overshadowed. You see, it doesn't matter how many pounds I lose, or how many pounds I gain; if I lose an arm or a leg; if I become totally and completely disfigured; or even if I become immobile and incommunicable, I am still the same person with the same desire to love and be loved. This focus on my body, in a strange way, devalued my personhood. What my body was really making visible (had it been seen through the proper lenses), was my detachment from food and all material things; as well as my zeal to serve God, my family, friends, and community. Strangely, the few times that the latter were pointed out, it was done in a negative connotation.

I remember many years ago, I was at work talking on the phone to a sales rep. This was a daily occurrence at this job so we got to know one another over the phone even though we had never actually seen one another. The sales rep on the other side of the line asked about my co-worker sitting next to me. He said, "she's the black lady, right?" I literally had to stand up on my chair and look over the cubby to confirm that she indeed was a "black lady". I had been working next to this gal for over a year, and it never once occurred to me that she was black until someone who had never seen her pointed it out!

So if I ever see you and don't say anything about all that weight you've lost. It's not so much that it isn't noticeable, but more likely that I am seeing what your body reveals; your joy, your optimism, your confidence, your humility, your charm, your intelligence . . . in essence, your personhood. And you can be sure that any physical change you make or is placed upon you, won't make me love you any more or any less, because you will have already had all my love.

Final Health Update

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Fri, 22 Apr 2016 02:37:00 +0000

I'm hoping this is the last time I have to give a health update. I had two procedures done last week. The first procedure was on Monday, April 11 when I had another ERCP and the stent removed. The doctors were able to find 2 more stones which they removed on the spot. The bile duct was still pretty enlarged so they scheduled an endoscopic ultrasound for that Friday to get a better look. On Tuesday, however, I got a fever and wasn't sure if I was going to be able to follow through with the endoscopic ultrasound. The doctors determined that it was a bacterial infection caused by the contrast dye that was injected in my bile duct. They put me on penicillin and we continued with our plans to have the endoscopic ultrasound on Friday. Friday's procedure went really well. The doctor confirmed that the bile duct was back to its normal size, and everything looked clear. That was the best news I had heard in a long time!

Becky's hungry again!

As of today, it's been about one week since that last procedure and there are some very noticeable differences. For one thing, I am experiencing hunger again. I used to rarely feel hungry, even on days that I fasted, I would crave food but would rarely have a tummy growl. Now I seem to be hungry all the time. I wake up hungry, I go to bed hungry. The other thing is that I get full faster. So far the most I've been able to eat is half a burger. Watching what I eat is so much easier than it used to be. I think before, my food would just sit in my belly so long, causing my stomach to stretch with every meal. I've never eaten more than a couple of meals a day, but now I feel like the food is actually going somewhere. I guess this explains my more frequent BM's. But that's about all the information you need about that :)

There have also been some negative effects, the one I am most concerned about is that I am still getting fevers nightly. They usually begin around 8pm and get progressively worse until about 5am when the fever breaks. I can keep them under control with Tylenol or Advil, but a low grade fever is no less uncomfortable than a high fever. It is a constant cycle of chills followed by cold sweat pretty much all night. I have been done with my Penicillin for about 3 days now, so I can't imagine it's still the infection. I see the doctor on Tuesday, so hopefully I'll either be over it by then, or at least know what the cause is. Another side effect is that I now have acid reflux. Again, this is not something that was an issue before, so I have to really watch what I eat and when I eat it. I try not to eat anything past dinner so that it doesn't keep me up at night-- it could be why I'm always hungry at night and in the morning.

Other than the fevers at night, I feel mostly normal during the day. I do get tired more easily but this seems to improve daily. I like feeling hungry again. I like being able to control my weight as I did before and have already started losing those extra pounds. Most especially, I am happy that we finally got to the bottom (or top) of my gut problems and pray that it's all downhill from here.

The Findings

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 13 Mar 2016 17:31:00 +0000

This continues my health drama from this previous post.

I saw my doctor last week and I finally have an understanding of what they found (or didn't find) in my bile duct. First what they found: a tear near the bottom of my bile duct where bile escapes. The doctor wasn't too worried about this. She was more concerned with the upper part of my bile duct which is measuring 19mm. The normal size of a bile duct is 4 to 6 mm. There are many causes for enlargement, one being a stone. They are pretty sure it is not a stone or it would have shown up on the MRCP (a type of MRI). It could also be caused by scar tissue which is very possible considering I have had an ERCP before (where they go down the throat into the stomach and up the bile duct) to clear a stone that was lodged. It could also be caused by other growths, like a polyps, cyst or tumor.

What they haven't found is the actual cause for the enlargement. This is because every time they try to go up the bile duct, they hit a wall and can't go up any further. This last time, the doctor tried flushing my duct with bile to clear as much blockage as possible, then going up with the scope, then he'd hit a wall. He did this 8 times and never was able to get through! When they inserted the stent he there was an immediate gush of bile that came down. They hope is that after six weeks of having the stent, there will be enough drainage that they will be able to go up and see what is there.

I am scheduled to go back in on April 11th. I am not worried of the ERCP itself. I've had the procedure done twice already and I don't mind having a 3rd one. I am worried about pancreatitis. Both times I've had it done, by pancreas flared up. The first time I ended up in the hospital for 4 days as they pumped my body with intravenous fluids. This last time, I ended up with mild pancreatitis which only required a 2 day stay in the hospital and this time I was able to eat a liquid diet. This mild pancreatitis was also the cause for my pain whenever I tried to eat anything. The pain did clear by Wednesday evening (9 days post ERCP) and I am now able to eat again so even though the pain lingered a bit, it was manageable.

I know that I expressed some concern over the cost of my medical expenses when all of this first came about. We don't know yet, what our doctor bills will be, however, the hospital gave us an 89% discount which is something we were very comfortable paying. However, the day I left hospital, Tony pulled up to check the mail and we found a bunch of checks which totaled over $700. We weren't really expecting them-- really when does someone get a bunch of checks all in one day to total almost a grand?! God is good. He's always taken such good care of us and provided for all of our needs. Although we still don't know what the bottom dollar amount is going to be. We are not worried. God always provides a way to make things work out. We continued with our original plan of taking our kids on the vacation of their life. They give up so much of their time in order for us (Tony and I) to give our time to minister at our parish; it is a real blessing to not have to worry about the household as we spend countless hours teaching and giving our witness. All glory to God as we continue our crazy journey of serving him and one another.

Yes, I finally got my breakfast tacos!!!!

Here We Go Again! AKA Welcome to 45, Part 3

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Thu, 03 Mar 2016 01:57:00 +0000

I know some of you are wondering what the heck happened to me last week and why I keep ending up in the hospital for the same problems. Since I never finished the Welcome to 45 chronicles, which started it all, we can pretend this is Part 3-- only a year later.

After my last procedure in December of 2014, which ended with (but was not chronicled) a 4 day stay at the hospital, I continued having minor pains in my abdomen. The doctor explained that I would have slush passing through but they clipped my bile duct wide enough for everything to pass. So I thought nothing of it even though I was having them once or twice a week. Most episodes were short (only a few minutes) and very mild; until last week.

Last week around Wednesday or Thursday evening, I experienced a level 7 pain in my abdomen. It was all too familiar and I was worried enough to let my husband know. The pain did subside as it usually does, but I had a hard time sleeping that night because the area remained quite tender. Days later, on Saturday I went to Costco to pick up the Tres Leches birthday cake that my little Lexi requested. My guardian angels must have been on guard because I asked my big girls if they wanted to come with me. This is something I never do, but on this occasion I did. They all said "no" except for Sunny who said she didn't care to go but she would come if I wanted her to. Again, normally I would have dropped the whole thing but on this occasion I asked her to come anyway.

At Costco, I had already finished most of my shopping, I jut needed some bulbs for my garden and a birthday present for my grandbaby, Lexy (yes we have 2 Lexies in the family). As I was bending over looking through the bulbs, I noticed the abdominal pain starting to creep in. At first I brushed it off, but it continued to escalate until I was no longer able brush it off. This was all within a matter of 2 minutes. I told Sunny, we'd go look for the present then leave, but by the time we walked the 10 feet to the toy area, the pain was unbearable and I began perspiring. I wasn't sure I was having abdominal pain or a heart attack because my entire midriff hurt like crazy! I tried sitting on one of Costco's many sofas but it didn't help. I told Sunny to wait there on the sofa with Eva while I went to the bathroom to see if it would help, but as I was walking to the bathroom, I honestly thought I was going to pass out. I called my husband and told him to come get me. I made it to the bathroom and was able to relieve myself; it helped some, but by the time I made it back to the girls I was in severe pain again. I called Tony back to see where he was and we headed to the checkout -- I couldn't leave without the cake and my bulbs. I can only imagine what people thought about me as I was checking out. I could hardly walk, I was sweating like crazy, and my face was going pretty pale. I just didn't want to pass out in front of my girls so I did my best to make it to the car. I did make it to the car and I laid down immediately. I was on the phone with Tony the whole time and within seconds after laying down, I began to feel better. About 5 minutes later, Tony and Nicki arrived.

Even though I was feeling better, we decided to go to the doctor anyway because the pain was so severe. My PCP was worried and referred me to the ER. The ER decided it was acid reflux (Really? Worst $900 I ever spent) and sent me home. As we were heading home, I started feeling sick again. By the time we got home, the pain was at a level 9. I took some Nexium, just to prove the doctor wrong. After 20 minutes of no relief and level 10 pain, I took a hydrocodone which did absolutely nothing. So back we went-- this time to the hospital. At the hospital they gave me some Delaudid (which is heaven on earth). I immediately felt relief. They ran a sonogram to check for stones; that was my problem last time, stones in my bile duct, but they found none. I continued on pain meds throughout the night and the next morning they ran an MRCP, which is basically an MRI with a torture shot that made me puke. The MRCP showed signs of obstruction so the doctor decided they should do another ERCP (Endoscopic Retrograde Cholangiopancreatography). It's basically when they go down the throat around the pancreas into the bile duct. It's a risky procedure only because the pancreas is such a delicate organ. The last time I had it done, I ended up with pancreatitis (which basically means worst pain than the blockage itself) and another 4 day hospital stay with no food.

Still can't have my breakfast tacos :(

They weren't sure what they were going to find this time, if anything, but they could tell that something was not normal. It turned out to be a bile duct stricture. Basically this means that my bile duct, the one they pulled the stone out of, had constricted and bile was not able to get through, so my bile duct was beginning to balloon thus giving me the sensation that my stomach was about to blow. They performed the ERCP and inserted a stent to open up the duct. The stent is temporary and they will be removing it in about 6 weeks.

Throughout this ordeal, I couldn't help but ask myself, "Why does this keep happening?" While I still can't answer that question, I can say that I learned one thing; that I'm ok with dying. The pain was horrendous and I died time and time again as it traveled from my upper abdomen then radiating towards my back, sometimes leaving me breathless. But that's not why I'm ok with dying. I'm ok with dying, because my kids continued their day to day without me. They don't need me. They ran the household, took care of each other, did their school work-- even Eva went about her happy life as she usually does. That was an enormous consolation for me because my husband was able to spend every minute of my agony with me and I didn't worry once about how, or what the kids were doing. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure they were worried about me, but they didn't let the situation take over. They stepped up and kept things as normal as possible. I am truly blessed to have such sweet, self-reliant, happy children. I can't ask for anything more.

Results on my ERCP can be found here on this next post.

Welcome to 45, Part 2

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sat, 07 Feb 2015 13:36:00 +0000

I just finished reading my post, Welcome to 45, and realized that I didn't give you the whole story. I thought I had because at the time that was the whole story, but then it happened again. About a week after having my gallbladder removed I had the pain again. "this isn't supposed to be happening. They told me I wouldn't be having these pains anymore" I thought. So I called the surgeon and he sent me back to the hospital for an MRI. They found some "slush", which the doctor said was normal and that it should pass. However, if the pain came back, they would need to do another procedure. He warned me that the procedure was not without complications and he didn't like doing it, so he hoped it would pass on its own. Indeed it did pass and I had another good week of no or little pain. My husband went ahead and rescheduled his trip to El Paso to see his mom. He would be going the week after Thanksgiving.

The day after Thanksgiving, I noticed a dull pain in my stomach. It wasn't unusual, I had been having those throughout but they would go away after a few minutes. Well this time it didn't go away. It got stronger and stronger. Within a few minutes I was bent over in pain. I called my doctor but the office was closed due to the holiday. I took some hydrocodone, the strongest pain meds I had. "I shouldn't be having these pains. I don't have a gall bladder!" I told my husband. He insisted we go to the ER, I got in the car and before we got to the end of the street, the pain had passed. I asked my husband to turn around and go back home. I was not insured and I didn't want an unnecessary hospital bill. He hesitated, but I promised I would call the doctor first thing Monday morning.

When I called the doctor, he sent me back to the hospital for another MRI. This time they found something; it was a stone lodged in my bile duct (very much like the picture on the left). Apparently, this stone had made its way out of my gall bladder before they removed it. They were going to have to go back in to get it out ASAP because there was a threat it might make it's way to my pancreas. They referred me to another doctor who scheduled the procedure for that Friday, the day before my husbands trip.

Even though this would de another simple outpatient procedure, I recalled my first doctor's warning about the complications and I felt very uneasy about it. This new doctor explained how they would have to go through my throat and around my pancreas. That was the danger zone, the pancreas is a very sensitive organ, if it got bothered by the stone or the doctor, I could end up with pancreatitis, which basically means my pancreas would go into shock. My dad died of pancreatic cancer and all I could think of was the pain he would experience throughout his life; pain that put him in bed, sometimes for days.

Friday came and the doctor went over the possible complications again, but assured me that in all his time doing this procedure, only one or two patients experienced pancreatitis. When I woke up I was feeling some soreness but it was very tolerable. He told me that the procedure went well and I could go home. [I later found out that the stone was quite large and he had quite a bit of trouble getting it out. The nurse who later read the report had to question whether he got it out or not.]

As I lay in the hospital waiting to be discharged, I noticed the the soreness I felt when I awoke was quickly escalating to actual pain. I refused the pain meds because I just wanted to get home, take my pain meds there and go to sleep. The pain continued to increase, however, and by the time I got home I was bent over in pain. I took the hydrocodone that I had and tried to lay down, but the pain increased. Before I knew it, I was on the floor reeling in pain.

Going back to the hospital was the last thing I wanted to do. But I had NEVER felt pain like this before. My worst gallbladder bout was nothing compared to this and the pain meds didn't seem to do a thing. We were only home for about 20 minutes, but when my husband walked into the room and saw me on the floor, we both knew I had to go back. I asked my husband not to cancel his trip.

To be continued . . . .

Life's a Beach

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Thu, 05 Feb 2015 23:00:00 +0000

Growing up in California, I loved going to the beach. I loved the sound of the waves, the way the sand tickled my toes, and walking to the pier to see what the fishermen had caught. I also hated going to the beach; dealing with the wet clothes and sand in places there should never be sand. But nothing could put a greater damper on my beach experience than my brothers, of which I had 6. My brothers, who were older, bigger, and much better swimmers, loved breaking through the high waves, making their way deep into the calmer waters where they would bop up and down with the tiny little waves until they got bored and then they'd come back to the violent currents crashing through everything that got in it's path-- including me.

It wasn't the crashing I hated, it was when they would see me playing in the shallow waters and then decided that it wasn't good enough. They insisted that go deeper in. Then they would pick me up and carry me into the crashing waves and throw me in, laughing as I struggled to regain my balance without drinking any of the salty water. This caused me to develop a fear of water, one which I didn't overcome until my adult years. My brothers didn't understand that it wasn't that I didn't want to go in the water, but that I was actually enjoying myself as I played around the shore. I loved to stand at the edge of the water. Eventually the waves would slowly draw me deeper and deeper into the ocean. Before I knew it, I was in the deep. I always found this to be quite perplexing, the way the water, regardless of how shallow, could actually move a person without the person even knowing it was being moved.

Sometimes we can be like my brothers when it comes to our faith walk. Sometimes, we see someone wading in the waters of the faith and we insist that they are just not deep enough and need to go deeper. While I agree that one can always go deeper, what we can't do is force them. We need to trust that the Holy Spirit will guide the person according to the person's ability. If the Church is like the ocean, then God is in every bit of the ocean. He is in the deep, and in the shallow, he is in the calm and in the turbulence, he is in the warm and in the cold. Just like at the beach, if you stand at the edge of the water, where the tide just reaches your toes, eventually the tide will draw you in. Before you know it, you're in the deep. Swimming in the waters of his Grace.

No one wants us in heaven more than God does. Do we trust that God will draw others into the peaceful waters of faith? We should. Does God need our help? No. But he does request it from time to time. The question is, are we going to pick people up and throw them into the ocean? Or are we willing to wade in the shallow water with them, trusting that God will draw them in?

Welcome to 45

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 26 Oct 2014 00:50:00 +0000

I entered 45 with a broken ankle. After spending 1 month in a cast and another month in a boot, I was thrilled to finally be released to drive on Friday. Thanks to my super mom genes, the 12-16 week recovery was only an 8 week recovery.

So friday, I was so delighted as I drove my kids to playgroup for the first time in 2 months. I was so giddy that I was able to completely overlook the fact that I hadn't eaten or slept for 2 days due to gallstone issues. I had been dealing with gallstone problems for years. The pains were at times quite intense, but I always knew that they'd be gone in a few hours. I began to view my gallbladder as a glutton meter; I learned to detect the early signs of a gallstone bout and used it to help me make better eating choices. When I failed to follow my gut (pun intended), the consequence was hours of severe abdominal pain at night; pain so extreme that all I could do is pray through it-- thus allowing me to use it as an offering for others.

This time it was different though. The pain didn't go away by the following morning. And I hadn't gone overboard on my diet. I was actually eating very little but the pain was still constant. Saturday, was such a rough night for me that my sweet husband pulled out the Rosary beads. And Sunday morning he and the kids prayed over me so that I could finally find relief. Relief did come. For 24 hours, the pain was gone completely and it was gone enough for me to eat normal meals on Monday. But by Monday night the pain was back as bad as ever. At that point I decided it was time to call the doctor who had diagnosed my gallbladder issues about 10 years ago. Unfortunately, the doctor would not be able to see me until November 5th! I was a bit disappointed, but I reminded myself that I was a tough mama and I could do this! After another day of severe pain, I remembered that my husband was going to be out of town for a week. Suddenly, I wasn't sure I could handle the pain for another two weeks. Thursday morning, I went in to see my family doctor who sent me to the ER.

When the nurse asked how long I've had the pain, I told her "about a week". She shot back with "Why did you wait so long to come in!" I wasn't sure how to answer that question. I told her that I thought the pain was going to go away-- which is true, but the real truth is that I was kind of fond of my glutton meter. I knew that they would want to remove it and I wasn't sure that I wanted it removed. It was my path to sanctification. But everything happened so quickly. One minute I'm calling my doctor, the next I'm at the ER, and the next I'm at the surgeon's office. "This can't be happening!" I kept thinking. "I just got my boot off, and my license to drive-- I can't go down again!" But down I went. Friday morning, one week after being released for my broken ankle, I lay in the operating room having my gallbladder removed. It was a fairly quick surgery; I was in at 7am and home in time for lunch. Tony took the kids away for the day and I slept like I hadn't slept in a looooong time. I woke up feeling sore, but better.

That evening my sister-in-law called and as I was talking to her on the phone I noticed that I was very short of breath. I couldn't seem to get enough breath to complete a sentence. After talking with a friend who had had her gallbladder removed, we decided I better call the doctor, who in turn sent me back to the ER. Ugh! This was the 3rd time in the ER in 3 days! I was so tired of it! They did a CAT scan and though they found a little fluid in one of my lungs, it was nothing to be concerned about so they sent me home. Unfortunately, this 3rd trip to the ER prompted my hubby to cancel his trip to El Paso. I am happy he's home, but I am also disappointed that he didn't get to spend time with his mom like he intended. I'm sure God knows what he's doing so I'm just going with it.

I am finally at home again and thinking, "Welcome to 45". My supermom genes don't seem so super anymore. And my big girl panties are not as big as I thought. I can only imagine what 50 will be like. I better start shopping for some grandma-size panties.

(2/7/15 - Update it turns out, this wasn't the end of the story. You can read more about this in Part 2 and Part 3)

Everything is All Right

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 24 Aug 2014 20:47:00 +0000

This is going to be my view for the next several weeks. When the nurse asked me what I was doing when I broke my ankle, I told her, "I was walking-- I used to be a lot more coordinated."

Indeed, my bones have survived jumping off roofs, flying off bikes, rolling off moving cars, and break dancing. I never thought this would ever happen to me (at least not without a great story behind it). But here I am, a few weeks from celebrating my 45th birthday, and I am lain in bed with my first broken bone. Well, that's not entirely true, they did saw through my breast bone when I had heart surgery at age 38. But at least that one came with a good story behind it. Now, when people ask what happened, all I can say is "I was walking, and then I wasn't". As my husband says, "At least now I know she's human".

"We are at Jesus' disposal. If he wants you to be sick in bed, if he wants you to proclaim His work in the street, if he wants you to clean the toilets all day, that's all right, everything is all right. We must say, 'I belong to you. You can do whatever you like.' And this is our strength. This is the joy of the Lord." -- Bl. Mother Teresa

The Word

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sat, 19 Jul 2014 09:59:00 +0000

I try to read the daily scriptures every morning before the kids wake up. I admit that at times my reading is rushed. My goal sometimes, is not so much to dive into the readings, but to try to get them read before the kids wake up. It's a fruitless effort and I wonder why I even bother reading, but I continue strictly for the sake of virtue; not that I am a virtuous person, but that I want to become one.

So during these moments of rushing, I read the scriptures though they have become so familiar that my mind goes on autopilot. "Oh yes, I remember this one, it's where . . . . " Then I read through quickly before my husband or kids wake up. As I said before, it's a fruitless effort, much like trying to scarf down your food because you've got somewhere to go. There is very little pleasure in it, but you have to eat because you need the energy. Every so often, as I'm trying to scarf down my daily readings, God, in his mercy, gives me a small taste of the delicious fruit I am eating. A small phrase gets my attention and it pulls me in just a little deeper.

On one particular occasion, it was the word-- "word". It comes up quite frequently in the Bible, particularly in the sense of "the word of God". I asked myself, "What is a word? Why is God constantly giving us his word?" A word, which is conceived in the mind, can remain invisible in the privacy of the mind. Or, it can be made visible, through written or oral speech. This enfleshing of words gives others a glimpse into our mind and ultimately, what is in our heart.

I allow people to this doorway on the pages of this blog, and I always wonder, "what do my words say about me?" I wonder if those who only know me through my written words, have a different impression than those who only know me through my spoken words. Yet, it's not through any of the words that I share that one can truly know me but rather through the words that I keep in the privacy of my mind. There, lie the words that can only be seen by my heavenly spouse; words too intimate or personal even for my earthly spouse. (When my husband reads this post, he'll be thinking "what is she keeping from me?") It's not that I am trying to be secretive or deceitful, but I am protecting my words so that they aren't skimmed through as I do the words of scripture. Some words are too important for skimming. Some words require a certain level of trust, undivided attention, or a certain attitude; and some words may not show a very good side of me.

But God, who sees and knows all, is not a skimmer. He hangs on every word, spoken or not spoken. He wants to know everything about us-- and he does. But the question is, do we trust him with our words? Do we trust him enough for us to make our words visible; to put flesh on them in the Sacrament of Confession? Love Incarnate beckons our heart in Adoration, but he also beckons our words in Confession and that is our real test of love.

God loved us so much, he gave us his written word, knowing many of us would skim right through the pages. Then, to make his perfect love even more obvious, "the Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us" (John 1:14). He took his most intimate love and enfleshed it, so that we could see with our own eyes, and hear with our own ears, and trust with our heart and with our words. His confession is that he wants to give his love completely to us, if we would only open wide the door to our hearts so that he can penetrate us deeply with his most passionate grace. Therefore to withhold our words from him, is to reject his grace from our heart.

When I skim through the daily scriptures, I miss out on the grace that God wants to pour down on me. When I allow even one word to reach the depths of my heart, love takes root and overtakes me. Imagine what Love would do if I gave him my full confession?

"God, be merciful to me a sinner!" Luke 18:13

The Needy Baby

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 09:52:00 +0000

The last month has been very interesting. Only weeks after learning about our granddaughter, we got a call from a very distressed grandmother asking if we could take the baby for a day. I had not been cleared to have unsupervised visits with the baby so my son called CPS to see what we should do. Well, apparently they did clear me for unsupervised visits only I was never notified. This in itself was strange because I had just been at the office the day before. So that Friday morning, on a moments notice I picked up the baby on my way to church.

It was amazing how well she fit in with the family. This baby was so easy! She never cried or fussed. She actually stayed quietly in my arms through the entire Mass. That evening we gave her back to grandma and she asked us if we could watch her again the next day. The next day was my nephew's wedding in San Antonio, so I told her we could watch her if we got to keep her for the night. She agreed so we got to keep her for the weekend. This was perfect timing because she got to meet great grandma, great grandpa, and all her uncles, aunts and cousins. Again, she was perfect. She even started making happy noises in the car on our way to San Antonio; something I had never heard from her on my weekly visits at the CPS office.

Three weeks later, grandma asked us to watch her again for 4 days! The kids were so excited! We got her again right before Church and took her straight to Mass. Again, she did very well in my arms throughout the Mass. When we got home, however, she wouldn't stand on the floor. This surprised me because when we had her 3 weeks earlier, she loved walking around on the floor. That was all she wanted to do. And now she would bend her legs as soon as I tried to put her down. She also cried any time I put her in her walker. I was very concerned about this, I even texted my son to tell him about it. Grandma said that she was teething and was very needy so she needed to be held. To this point I had not seen a cranky or needy baby. I decided that she probably didn't get much walking time in the small, cramped, apartment she lived in. So for her next snack time, I put the snacks on her walker and sat her in it. Not only did she stay in it as she ate the snacks, but she actually walked toward me to ask for more! Needless to say, by the end of the 2nd day, she was an expert in the walker. When grandma came to pick her up on Wednesday evening, her car was full of stuff she was going to sell at a garage sale. One of the many baby items in the car was the baby walker.

I write this story because one of the recurring things I hear from grandma and even the social workers is how needy this baby is. She has been given the title "high need" and they are constantly talking about all the therapy she goes to and how much trouble she is in therapy, etc. etc. I honestly feel like they're talking about a different baby. When she's at our house, she crawls everywhere. She gets around her walker with ease. She even knows how to get herself unstuck when she gets stuck. She naps, goes to bed without a fight, and sleeps through the night. She picks up food with her, supposedly, stiff arm and puts it in her mouth without fumbling. Other than the fact that she is not walking or talking much, she is very capable. I am honestly beginning to cringe every time I hear people call her "high need". Maybe the problem isn't that she's high need, maybe the problem is that they don't expect much from her.

I don't know what God's plan is for this baby. What I do know is that if I died tomorrow, I would die a happy person for my heart is at peace and my cup overflows with love. I am, however, open to receiving this little life, if God decides to entrust her to me. Not because I need her to make my life better, my life is so full of goodness there is nothing more I need, but because she too needs a life that is full of goodness. One in which she is not seen as needy or deficient. She is full of life and so ready to grow. Her only real need is someone to show her the way.

"You are taken with love for her; for by love indeed you created her, by love you have given her a being capable of tasting your eternal Good."-- St. Catherine of Siena

The Empty Crib

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Wed, 04 Jun 2014 12:59:00 +0000

My baby just turned three. She's potty trained, sleeping through the night, and starting to read. She is by far our easiest baby yet! There's something bitter sweet about watching my baby grow up knowing that she's our last. I want to hold her and kiss her endlessly. I don't want to miss any part of her development. When she started sleeping upstairs with the girls, there was an emptiness both Tony and I felt as we went to bed that night that lingered through the morning.

As I see my younger friends continue to have babies, I realize that Tony and I are entering a new state in life; one where we begin to have a little more freedom. We actually have more time to do some of the things we've been wanting to do. We can go out without worrying about being home at a certain time because the kids are mature enough to take care of anything that needs to be done at home. As a matter of fact, now that Nicki turned 18, we literally have another adult in the house.

As I was thinking about this new state in life, I decided that this was too easy. I have no worries, no anxieties, and no suffering to offer up. The actual thought that I heard in my head was "Christ didn't die on the cross so that I could cruise through the rest of my life". No, there had to be a change coming on. I've been around long enough to know that when life is easy, you savor it, because it won't last. So I decided to get on with the savoring.

Then a few days later, this happened:

This is my new granddaughter, my oldest son's baby. Only we didn't know about her until about 2 weeks ago. We knew his ex-girlfriend had had a baby, but she never admitting to her being his daughter. As a matter of fact, when she was born, she gave her a different boyfriend's last name. When my son would ask for a paternity test, the girl would object. It wasn't until the girl got into some legal issues that a judge ordered the paternity test. Over a month later, my son got the call from the social worker notifying him that this was indeed his baby and that she was in foster care.

The baby is 15 months old, and has had a really rough start in life. My heart really goes out to her and we would love nothing more than to bring her home with us and raise her as our own, but the process is frustrating, to say the least. I honestly do not understand the legalities or the logic behind some of the decisions that are being made for this baby. All I know is that God loves her more than anyone on earth ever will and he knows what is best for her. So all I can do is pray for God's will to be done as quickly as possible. As we prepare to (hopefully) welcome another little one into our home, I ask that you please say a little prayer for our special intention. Though I have little trust in the system, I have complete trust in God, so I pray that above all, His will be done.

"God is constantly knocking at the gate of my heart to invite me to go beyond the state I have reached, because my whole life should be a journey on the way to Love." -- Cardinal Charles Journet

Letting Go

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sat, 24 May 2014 13:44:00 +0000

Abbey turns 10 today! No matter her age, we always think she's at least 2 years younger. So her turning 10 caught us all by surprise! As far as her abilities go, she's still doing mostly 2nd grade work but her vocabulary has improved quite a bit; even though her speech is still a bit slurred and some might have a hard time understanding her. As a matter of fact, one day she was goofing around with my phone and she decided to record herself. She had never heard herself talk, so she was a little surprised to hear what she sounded like. She told me that she had water in her mouth (she didn't). Perhaps I should have, but I didn't say anything about it. I just allowed her to come to her own conclusions.

I've already blogged about my philosophy on special kids here. And we've never had a need to do anything differently until now. About three weeks ago, Abbey told me she wanted to sing in the annual homeschool talent show. "Ok", I told her, "but you need to practice". And practice she did. EVERY DAY! For three weeks she's sat at the piano belting it out to Frozen's "Let it Go". Then it occurred to me . . . she's serious! All this time I was thinking she would be too shy. After all, she's the kid who is usually glued to my hip! She doesn't like to talk to people and still has trouble making eye contact but she wants to sing . . . SING . . . IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE! I had visions of all those awful American Idol contestants who thought they could sing but were never told they couldn't. Instead their families allowed them to go on public television to be judged and humiliated by the snarky judges. How could their families put them through that?

For the first time, I felt like I needed to say something; to make an apology of some sort. She has speech problems; delays; special needs. After all, what would people think? What would they do? Then I remembered. These people are not Simon Cowell. They are our homeschooling friends. They are not in the business of humiliating children!

I had to remind myself, to treat her like all of the other children. So I sat down and listened to her performance. She got off beat a few times, off note here and there, but she performed. She didn't just sing words, she actually sang with passion! "With some coaching this kid is really not half bad" I thought. Coaching is a very delicate matter though, the last time we tried to coach a kid with his singing was the last time we heard him sing. But Abbey is different, right? She's special; she has a stubbornness about her that rarely works to her advantage but in this situation it can be considered a perseverance. I gave her a few tips to help her keep the tempo and reminded her to bring out the drama on a couple of lines, and then I did what the song said. I let it go. I let her be Abbey. It's ok that you can't understand some of the words, this is Abbey-- and she's singing her heart out . . . IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE! And I am a very proud momma.

The Trip

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sat, 17 May 2014 11:29:00 +0000

When our oldest son approached his teen years, we thought it was a good idea for Dad to take him away for the weekend and give him "the talk". The morning that the weekend was going to take place, my husband called my son out from his room and told him to pack a suitcase because he was going on a long trip. That was all he said; no explanation was given whatsoever. Nobody knew about this trip except for me. We had been having some issues with him, so he was a little nervous.

They drove out to the Dallas/Fort Worth area and listened to a series of tapes by Dr. Dobson entitled Preparing for Adolescence. When they arrived my husband had planned an entire weekend of fun while spending moments in the hotel listening to the tapes and discussing the content. They ended the weekend with Holy Mass and the giving of the ring; a ring with 1 Cor 13 inscribed inside of it (which coincidently was the Gospel reading for that Sunday). We did this because we wanted our son to avoid the sexual pitfalls that kids run into during adolescence. We knew, because of his background, that adolescence in general would be particularly challenging and we wanted him to be well equipped for what lay ahead.

This ritual has become tradition in our household. My husband has taken 3 of our 4 sons, and last week I took the 3rd of my 7 daughters. Although the ritual has pretty much remained the same, (it's always a surprise, it's always a trip away, and it always involves listening to talks and discussing the content) the focus has changed. What began as talks on the importance of chastity and obedience is now a catechesis on the beauty of femininity and masculinity and the call to holy communion. While Dr. Dobson's Preparing for Adolescence was the best series available 15 yrs. ago, as St. John Paul II's Theology of the body has trickled into the Church, we now have more than a preparation for adolescence available to us-- we have a preparation for manhood and womanhood, for fatherhood, and motherhood, and for eros and agape.

The series that we used last week was Love, Relationships, and Responsibility: A Message for Teens by Christopher West and are geared for your average 15 to 20 year old. We also went through a series of books for girls called All Things Girl. We obviously don't have time to go through all six books of this series in one weekend, so I select a few based on my girls' needs. There is also a boy version called All Things Guy. I think that one is only one book. I haven't read the boy version--that's my husband's department so I can't say much about it, but I can say that the girls series is very good and geared towards 11-13 year old girls.

The trip has truly evolved into something way better than we had imagined. But I must say that no matter how good the talks are, or how memorable the weekend is, we have found that if we truly want our children to understand the sanctity of love and marriage and live a life of chastity, we have to model it ourselves. What we began 15 years ago, was our own education. As we have learned what marriage is all about and what it means to be made male and female, we have found that we really don't have the types of problems we were having with our older children in the areas of promiscuity or disobedience. Parenting has become so much easier. And our trips are truly a celebration of the person and a glimpse of God's amazing love for humanity and our call to participate in this love.

“The human body with its masculinity and femininity . . . contains from the very beginning . . . the power to express love, precisely that love in which the human person becomes a gift – and through this gift – fulfills the very meaning of his being and existence.” -- Theology of the Body 15:1

Oh, Mercy Me!

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Tue, 22 Apr 2014 14:47:00 +0000

As I prepare for Divine Mercy Sunday, I am in awe of God's work in his Holy Church. The more I reflect on Divine Mercy and the canonizations occurring on the same day, the more I see the threads that weave through history and reveal God's divine plan for humanity.

Divine Mercy Sunday, falls on the first Sunday after Easter. Traditionally, this Sunday can be traced back as mercy Sunday to the teachings of St. Augustine who referred to this Sunday as "the compendium of the days of mercy". Divine Mercy Sunday was given this title officially by Pope John Paul II on April 30, 2000, at the canonization of St. Faustina, who received the message of Divine Mercy and recorded it in her Diary.

Now 14 yrs. later, we celebrate the canonization of Pope John Paul II on the feast of Divine Mercy Sunday. But this isn't the only connection Pope John Paul II has with Divine Mercy. He began pushing for Rome's approval of this feast day since his time as Archbishop of Krakow in 1978. In 1997 John Paul stated at the tomb of St. Faustina, "The message of Divine Mercy has always been near and dear to me, which I took with me to the See of Peter and which in a sense forms the image of this Pontificate". The canonization of St. Faustina and feast of Divine Mercy Sunday was his final gift to the Church. He died 5 years later on the Vigil of Divine Mercy Sunday in 2005.

The Church will also be canonizing Pope John XXIII along with John Paul II, on this same feast of Divine Mercy. Pope John XXIII is most known for calling together the Second Vatican Council, also known as The Council of Mercy. John XXIII saw a need to present the faith to a world that was changing. His papacy began in 1958, a time of innovation and global advancements which brought new methods of communication. He foresaw the need for a new evangelization that would be better able to address the needs of this changing world.

As I sit here and type this blog entry, I am made aware of the world John XXIII foresaw. With the push of a button, this message will be published and made available throughout the entire world. As a representative of the Church, what message will I give to the world? Pope John XXIII prayed for a new pentecost; one in which every Catholic would become an apostle, living out their faith in word and deed, and bringing it to the world, particularly to other Christians and non-Christians.

We have the ability to do that in our day. Sadly, many times the message we share is one of condemnation. Too many times have I read a blog post in which the theology or teaching is perfectly accurate, but the intent is divisive. It is too easy to put ourselves on opposing sides. If our goal is to bring others to the fullness of truth, then we need to learn how to reach out to our separated brothers and sisters and draw them in with a message of hope.

Both Popes John XXIII and John Paul II saw the need to bring the Gospel message to the heart of the Catholic laity. They saw the need for unity, peace, and mercy through the new evangelization. Let us be reminded that it is not the law that changes hearts, but God's loving mercy. I pray that God will give me the wisdom and humility to be a good apostle of mercy and may my readers hold me accountable to it.

"As a gift to humanity, which sometimes seems bewildered and overwhelmed by the power of evil, selfishness and fear, the Risen Lord offers his love that pardons, reconciles and reopens hearts to love. It is a love that converts hearts and gives peace. How much the world needs to understand and accept Divine Mercy!" (This message was prepared by John Paul II for Divine Mercy Sunday, but since he died on the vigil, it was delivered as the homily for the Mass for the repose of his soul on April 3, 2005.)

How I Spent my Summer Vacation

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 15 Sep 2013 13:14:00 +0000

Some people go to the beach over the summer; other's go visit family; we decided we would spend the summer putting order into our schedule. My husband and I were busy working on some new courses we would be offering this fall, and after one day of the kids being off of school and interrupting us every 5 minutes with "Can I play Wii?" "Can I have a snack?" "When is dinner?" "What can I do now?" One after the other, it drove me insane! So I took a week off of work to create a schedule for everyone. EVERYONE, including me and Tony. The schedule told everyone when to work, when to play, when to watch TV, and when to eat. While I was at it, I decided to schedule-in some additional prayer times for the family. We already prayed together daily as a family, only now I added specific times for prayer such as the Angelus, Rosary, and the Divine Mercy Chaplet. In addition to our morning, evening, and mealtime prayers, this adds up to praying like 20 times a day!-- at least it felt like it.

Yes, it was very challenging at first and I'll admit I had to bring it up in confession. The problem was not so much with the prayers, but my frustration of having to stop what I was doing so that we could pray. It reminded me of the post I put up about a year ago, My Imperfect Love Affair where I mentioned how easy it is to pray when it's convenient; like when there is a need or when I am unable to sleep but it's something else to interrupt the daily flow of my day for prayer.

Yet this is what Catholics did centuries ago. The church bells would ring at 6am, 12pm, and 6pm and people would literally stop what they were doing in order to pray the Angelus. It sounds so sweet when I think about it, and maybe it would be so if we actually had church bells rather than this annoying alarm that pops up in the middle of my work. With the kids on break, my work was already a series of interruptions. Many times, I had just gotten everyone settled and gotten myself back into the workflow when the alarm would go off. I admit that sometimes I would try to ignore it and to work through it, but then one of the kids would come down asking "Are we going to pray"? Doh! As I said on that other post, "How little do I love thee, my Jesus."

This was a great exersise in discipline for us. In becoming obedient to something as abstract as time, it reminded us of the one who is the giver of time. It forced us to put him above food, work and play. It took several weeks, but I have to admit that by the end of summer, I grew to love our scheduled prayer time! It's just what we needed to break up the work and come together as a family.

Now that school has started up again, we are not following the schedule as strictly as we did over the summer, but the kids have gotten good at making sure we don't forget our prayers. Now, when I get home from running my kids around their activities and I see the alarms I missed on my laptop, I feel a little sad.

It's easy to do things when it's convenient or when we derive a certain pleasure from it. But when we do things for their sheer goodness; through that act of obedience to goodness comes a grace that brings peace; peace in the home, peace in the heart, peace that surpasses all understanding, and that is where the pleasure lies.

Now if you'll excuse me, my alarm says it's TFP.

Time

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Fri, 12 Apr 2013 13:48:00 +0000

Time is a funny thing. It seems no matter how early I wake up, I just can't get ahead of it. God seems to give me just enough time to do what he needs me to do: just enough time to do my daily readings, and morning reflections, just enough time to get the grading and schooling done, just enough time to get the groceries and do the cooking, just enough time to plan, organize, and carry out my ministries.

I can't say I recall a time when my days were not full. Isn't that the way time works? People say that time is a gift from God. But I think it's more like the box it comes in. God loves us so much that he gives us this gift and we get to fill it with anything we want-- anything at all!-- books, sports, TV, fashion, video games, work, sleep; but the thing is, whatever we fill this box with, is out gift to God. Every minute of every day is our gift to him. But we need to ask ourselves, is it a gift of love?

There is ALWAYS time to do God's will. God wouldn't ask us to do something, then not give us enough time to do it. The trick is in discerning God's will for us and actually doing it.

I give you some final thoughts on time that might sound familiar but hopefully a little relevant.

There is an appointed time for everything,
and a time for every affair under the heavens.
A time to give birth, and a time to raise the children you birth.
A time to fix-up, and a time to throw out.
A time to cry, and a time to laugh till you cry.
A time to work, and a time to take your wife out on a date (had to sneak that one in there, honey <3)
A time to "friend", and a time to be with friends.
A time to speak, and a time to bite your tongue.
A time to love, and a time to love even more.
What have you profited from your toil?
Are you working for today or for eternity?
Eating the food you cook and living in the house you clean
is a gift from God.
And this you will do for the rest . . . of. . .your. . . life.
So do it with joy, and do it for love of God.
Because your time today will remain in God's eternity forever.

(based on Ecclesiastes 3)

My Papa

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Fri, 15 Mar 2013 13:14:00 +0000

Where have the last 3 months gone! Christmas came and went, lent slipped in, the Pope retired, Inspiration occurred, and we have a new Papa-- all while I try to keep up with our busy household! My life has been so full of activity that I've had to willfully live in each individual moment for the sake of not becoming overwhelmed with all that life has brought on. So here we are about to enter the 5th week of Lent and I finally have some time to catch my breath and reflect on all that has happened.

The first thing that came to my mind as I completed my morning readings is the gift of our new Holy Father, Pope Francis. He has truly captured the heart of so many Catholics with his humility and faithfulness. I have to wonder how we must appear to our protestant brothers and sisters. I bet they have a hard time understanding our fascination with the papacy. And as I think of all the well-respected christian leaders, some of whom I trust and admire greatly, it's not difficult to see how different their role is from that of the papacy. The one difference that stands out most in my heart, and the reason why we love our Holy Father so much can be summed up in two words: sacrificial love. Sure, christian leaders love their flock; they preach the gospel in a manner that will lead many to Christ; they devote years of their life to study, and preach, and build up their church.

A priest on the other hand, doesn't just devote his life, he gives up his life. He gives up marriage, a family, a career-- not for his church, but for the Church. When Father Jorge Mario Bergoglio chose the priesthood, I can assure you he did not once think he would one day be the Holy Father to 1.2 billion Catholics. He became a priest because he wanted to serve God's people; he wanted to be father to the fatherless, love to the unloved, hope to the hopeless; and he was willing to sacrifice his own life for the sake of his children. His elevation within the hierarchy of the Church was way beyond his control and above his ambition. His goal in life was simple and yet so complex-- to be Christ to others. We love our Holy Father because he is willing to be what even our own fathers often fail to be-- our Papa.

God bless Pope Francis and grant him the wisdom to lead his bride and guide his children to holiness. We love you Papa!

Advent in the Desert

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Sun, 16 Dec 2012 21:23:00 +0000

It happens every Advent, I get a taste of the Christmas Blues. I've been thinking about what the cause of my melancholy might be and I think I finally figured it out today as I was reflecting on St. John of the Cross, author of The Dark Night. I realized that Advent is a walk through the desert. Unlike Lent, where we walk through the desert with Christ, suffering with him; Advent, for me, is a walk through the desert alone. It is that period of waiting for the Messiah, who is yet to come.

The emptiness I feel is a strong desire for him but no matter where I look, he is not there. He is not in the trees, or in the lights, or in the gifts, or in the shopping. He's not even in the people. Everywhere I look I find distraction and a superficial kind of joy. Don't get me wrong, I am no humbug. I can put on a smile and wish people a "Merry Christmas", and bake the cookies, and make tamales, etc.; I do them because it's what I'm supposed to do. In reality my heart is in the desert. . . waiting. . . hoping. . . searching.

Then on Christmas day (and not a moment sooner), I gather whatever gumption I have left and I open the door of my home to my friends and open my heart to Christmas. We pray together and we laugh together. They are, in the most literal sense, gift to me and my family. And in that moment, the joy returns-- I find Jesus. And Christmas begins.

All Souls Desire Heaven

noreply@blogger.com (Becky) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 20:59:00 +0000

Eliseo y Mariana Saucedo

6/14/10 to 10/28/79 and 9/12/14 to 8/12/10

What happens to a soul when it leaves this life? Since only perfected souls can enter the gates of heaven, our Catholic faith teaches us that those who die in a less-than-perfect state will go to purgatory until their soul is perfected by the love of God. What does it mean to be perfected? It means that all the sins that were committed on earth have been atoned for. You might be thinking that once a sin is confessed, it is forgiven-- over and done with. That is true, but forgiveness of sin is different from atonement for sin. Like when one of my kids decides to color on the wall. They can be sorry for the act and I can forgive the act, but neither of those actions are going to do anything about the writing on the wall. One of us, will need to go through the painstaking act of cleaning or painting over the "artwork". It is only through that passion that atonement for my child's wrongdoing is complete. Without this act, every time I look at my wall, I'm going to wish she (or he-- but strangely, it's usually a she) hadn't done that, and likewise, she will need to suffer the embarrassment of having her "artwork" on the wall.

Leon Pedroza

11/17/1929 to 6/17/1996

So it is with our sins. Our actions have consequences that go beyond God's forgiveness. People are hurt, lives are changed, effects have the ability to transcend generations! So a poor soul can be in purgatory for a very long time (by our earthly standards because once we die, we leave the limitations of time and enter into the eternal).

As we approach the holy day of All Souls, I ask you to please consider those who have gone before us. Could our actions on earth be causing a poor departed soul unnecessary suffering? Could our actions toward someone on earth be the cause of a soul’s delay into eternal bliss? I can’t help but think of my poor brother, Roberto. Although it has been 4 years since his death, there is still resentment and blame occurring within the family. Will his soul ever rest in peace? I guess that is up to us.

Roberto Pedroza

7/10/54 to 6/13/08

Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord,

and let the perpetual light shine upon them.

May their soul and all the souls of the faithful departed

through the mercy of God

rest in peace. Amen