Stay Tuned . . .

Stay tuned for the very first ever Quite the Normal Giveaway! It will be a totally different kind of post too.

In the meantime, my computer has been in the repair shop being de-virus-ized again. This time however, I know where the virus came from and can avoid (hopefully) being re-infected. Unfortunately, it means saying goodbye to a website I really enjoyed. I'm sure she won't miss me a bit, but I will miss a daily chuckle and some good recipes. Oh well.

In the next few days, I will give something away. I've never done that before, but it should be fun. With any luck, I'll be able to have more of these in the future. I hope to have the giveaway post up and running by late this weekend or Monday for sure! With grilling season upon us, this giveaway could be a tasteful addition to your summer menus.

See you soon. Tell your friends!

Overheard

I overheard the following conversation today while at work between a mom and a little girl:

Mom: What did I tell you before we came in here?

Girl: Not to touch anyfing.

Mom: So why are you touching things?

Girl: But I WUV everyfing in dis store!



Hard to argue with that!

Really?

As I ran some errands Monday morning, I was "station surfing" on our van's radio. I found an oldies station from a town about 45 miles away and listened for awhile. My mind was drifting off, thinking about everything I needed to do when I heard this ad for a florist shop, "Without great flowers, a wedding is just a family reunion with music."

Really?

A family reunion with music? Is that ALL a wedding is? Surely we haven't fallen THAT far as a society.

Surely even in our jaded, secular society, we recognize a wedding as a celebration of love.

Don't we?

As a Catholic, I believe that marriage is a sacrament. For those who don't know, a sacrament is "efficacious signs of grace, instituted by Christ and entrusted to the Church, by which divine life is dispensed to us. The visible rites by which the sacraments are celebrated signify and make present the graces proper to each sacrament. They bear fruit in those who receive them with the required dispositions" (CCC 1131) In other words, they are events in which we interact personally with Christ, in which Christ shows us the importance of giving expression to our faith.

Marriage is an important sacrament because it is a vocation. Every person has a vocation. Some people are called to be religious. Some to be single and work for the kingdom in that way, married people have a special vocation for building up the church. The sacrament of marriage is a public sign that one gives oneself totally to this other person. It is also a public statement about God: the loving union of husband and wife speaks of family values and also God's values.

Jesus chose to work his first miracle and begin his public ministry at a wedding. The wedding was not incidental to the events, it was crucial. It wasn't a family reunion with music, Christ was showing the sacrementality of marriage by his actions. He was, if you will, changing the very nature of thewater in the jars in the same way that people are changed by joining together to become one. The water became wine and thus became something different and something better due to Jesus's action. In marriage, two people become one, better and stronger in the sacrament of marriage, also due to Jesus's action.

A family reunion with music, indeed! With or without flowers, a wedding is so much more. It is a miracle, heaven touching earth. It is water changed into wine. It is two becoming one. It is Christ's love for us, his spouse, being lived out in the lives of the married couple.

Solutions

Remember last summer when some mean-spirited animal decided to make a midnight snack out of our porch rockers? My first thought was that we needed new chairs. In spite of how it looks, the chairs are structurally fine.
So this was my solution. Two bright and colorful outdoor cushions for the chairs. Not only do they mostly hide the damage, they are very comfortable.
They help make our porch a comfy place to while away the time during the nice weather.

Now I just hope our little furry friend doesn't decide to feed on our cushions!

Senses and Memory

I walked to work on Friday and it was the perfect day. The sky was bright blue, the sun was shining benevolently, the birds were singing and a lawn was being mowed. The smell of freshly-cut, juicy green grass brought back so many memories. The grass never smells so good as it does in early spring. As I walked down College Avenue towards work, I reveled in the smell of the grass and dandelions. I listened to the rush of the tires on the pavement as four lanes of traffic moved along beside me. Then a bus drove by and belched a cloud of diesel fuel and suddenly I was eight years old again. For some reason, the smell of diesel fuel never fails to remind me of a field trip our Brownie trip took when I was in third grade. Now, I grew up in the south suburbs of Chicago and I-80 ran just behind our backyard. I was no stranger to the sights and sounds and smells of various vehicles. To me, the sound of cars on the road is practically a lullaby. It disturbs my husband and keeps him up, but I grew up with a heavily traveled highway just out our back door and I like the sounds. Anyway, my mom was our Brownie leader and we took a troop trip to O'Hare Airport to tour the facilties. Even back in the '60's, O'Hare was the busiest airport and all of the traffic and hustle and bustle absolutely thrilled me. I loved all of the people and the sounds. There were huge electronic billboards and announcements of flights boarding, but what has really stuck in my mind is the smell of all of the buses! Even now, 40-ish years later, I remember the thrill of that trip whenever I smell diesel fuel! I love it!

And songs, too, bring back memories of exactly what Iwas doing the first time I heard them. One of my favorite songs is "Nights in White Satin" by the Moody Blues. I was in 7th grade the first time I heard it. Our youth group was headed to the Oak Forest Bowl for a bowling night and I was sitting in the "way-back" section of someone's station wagon. WLS was on the radio (my family never listened to WLS in the car. It was either WGN radio or WIND, which was easy-listening. I listened to WLS on my little red transistor under my pillow at night). The song came on and Iwas transfixed. I had never heard anything so beautiful in my life. It seems funny to associate that powerful and passionate song with a 7th grade bowling trip, but I do. I can even remember that the station wagon had "wood" trim on the sides!

Another song that brings back such clear memories of the first time I heard it is "Bohemian Rapsody" by Queen. It's not exactly a beautiful song, but it is memorable! I was in high school and it was summer. My aunt and uncle had come to visit us and my parents took everyone into the north side of Chicago to a little German restuarant for dinner (Zum Deutchen Eck, long closed and much lamented). On the way home, my Dad drove down Michigan Avenue so that our visitors could see the sights. The radio was on and for some reason, it WAS on WLS. "Bohemian Rapsody" came on. It was odd. It was weird. It was totally different and I liked it! I remember leaning back in the back seat and looking up out of the back window of the car at the buildings. It was dark out and everything was lit up and sparkling. I watched the city pass by and listened to a song that was like a modern opera. It seemed to fit the situation somehow. "Scaramouche, Scaramouche can you do the fandango?" I was in the city. on the Magnificent Mile listening to an exicting new song. It was Chicago and anything was possible. I still see the night sky of the city when I hear that song.

There are plently of other examples. "Saturday In The Park" reminds me of my brother, since the first time I heard of it is when his grade school class was going to sing it for the spring concert. "Eternal Flame" by the Bangles reminds me of getting up in the middle of the night to feed my 4th child when she was a newborn. (we had cable and I watched VH1 while feeding her). "Still the One" by Orleans is my senior year of high school."Jive Talking" is Driver's Ed. Isn't it funny the memories that songs and smells can bring back? I love lilacs,yet I can never smell them without remembering Miss West, my scary high school French teacher who hated them yet always had a roomful of them in the spring, because kids would bring them to her just because she didn't like them! Tiger lillies remind me of my mom because she told the story of being scolded by a neighbor for picking them out of her yard when my mom was a small child. Violets bring back memories of playing with my best friend on the north side of our house where they grew in profusion in the spring.

I am grateful for the memories. As I grow older, I realize that it is often the small things that we remember that are precious. Sights, smells, sounds are all part of that patchwork quilt of our lives.

Now That Easter is Over

Yes, I am taking pictures in my garbage can. It's blurry, but here are the shells from our Easter eggs. They are always so pretty that I feel we ought to do SOMETHING with them. So this year, they got their picture taken. So, ok. Not really a good idea.
Here are the naked eggs, still bearing traces of their Easter finery. They don't know it, but they are about to be transformed yet again. (Don't anthropomorphize your food. It's just wrong. And weird.)

Ta da! Deviled eggs! I promise, this is the last picture I am taking of these eggs. They've had their moment of fame and any further following of their future paths would be just gross. Like my Easter egg plate? It's hard to see, but it is an Easter egg. Very cute.

Lame post, I know.

Have an egg.

From Our Bulletin This Week

I am re-typing, verbatim, the letter from our Monsignor that appeared in this morning's bulletin. Happy Easter.


Dear E----------- Parishioners,

Recently I was asked to undergo psychiatric evaluation. Although calm at first, I got nervous as the psychiatrist began taking notes, and she seemed to write down everything I said! Late, when leaving the office, I scanned her note pad and saw a jumble of words and snippets scrawled everywhere - even up and around corner, I couldn't help thinking, "there's no way she will be able to make sense of that later Ha!"

The psychiatrist escorted me out, pausing only a moment at the office. She leaned in and said two things to her secretary, both quite memorable; "no charge" and, much to my relief, (why?), the heartening words, "no diagnosis". At this the secretary looked at her and then looked at me. I smiled Ha again! A little later I stopped by at a Mc Donald's in P_____ to celebrate my reconfirmed sanity with a double cheeseburger I felt good.

The assessment was the last stop in a five month process to determine whether I was fit to donate a kidney to a fellow parishioner. Back in November they screened me for high blood pressure. Nearing the end of the process they screened me for mental "pressures" that could affect my reasoning. I think they really want to avoid taking kidneys from crazy people. I have often pondered how much to share with the parish, should this moment arrive. However, the lengthy recovery time noted by the doctors tipped the scales toward openness.

Mercifully for the recipient whose condition daily worsens, the surgery is scheduled for Easter Monday morning; please say a prayer. Thereafter I will be away for a while recovering (the doctors say 4-6 weeks, but I am hoping that's overly generous and cautious). There's a statistical chance this may not work for the recipient, but the odds are weighted heavily toward success in light of the many, many tests for compatibility coupled with the advanced drugs now available to smooth out the differences between us

Over the months I have done a lot of soul-searching to sift through my motives. In fact, that's one of the benefits of a drawn-out process. I admit that various dumb ideas have cropped up. Time and again, however, mixed motives yielded to a simple, potent realization: " I have something that may help a sister in Christ avoid needless suffering. I am not responsible for the timing of her kidney failure. But I am responsible for the gifts that God has given to me." And that pretty much ended the interior dialogue.

Take note that I have avoided talking about the recipient. As a parish family, it is perfectly fine to pray for her and for her recovery. But we should honor her privacy Lastly, consider a gift of life: contact a reputable agency (OSF in my case :309-665-4101) and see if God can bless someone with your gifts. What I learned in this long process opened my eyes to the needs of so many people around us. It has been a blessing for me. Bless you and your families. Happy Easter.


Please remember Monsignor Powell and our parishioner in your prayers and they undergo surgery and recovery.

I picked these daffodils from our garden. They looked so pretty outside, but the weather was going to change and the flowers would have died had I left them out.
This is what we woke up to this morning. You'd think it was January instead of April.
I like snow. I really do. But it's APRIL! And this is Illinois, not Alaska. Enough already. Let's have some spring before the hot, humid summer hits.

Those Were The Days, My Friends

In roughly 1997, we got our first computer that was able to connect to the internet. Yes, as usual, we were way behind the curve. We signed up for dial-up internet with that three-lettered service that was so big back then.

About that time, we decided to get a dog for our son. I went online to research breeds. I found something cool - message boards! I started reading doggie boards and learning from real people. Then I remember thinking that while the dog boards were fun, I am not a doggie person, but I am a mom and a good Catholic, so I went searching on that three-lettered site for a board for people like me and I found one.

History was made.

Ok, not really, but it did make my own personal history as I met so many nice ladies. Before too long, we were joined by a priest who graciously answered our questions throughout the years. I learned so much reading that board. And I made friends. We were together through new babies, divorces, re-marriages and illnesses. My children grew up and the people on the board followed their journeys through school, college and in two cases, marriage and jobs. My youngest grew from a toddler in diapers to a teenager. I followed the journeys of my friend's children too. I learned about homeschooling from Renee and Michelle. I learned about working moms from Ruth. I learned about serious mental illnesses from another mom. Depression has hit several of our group over the years. Cancer claimed one of our number. Grandchildren have been born. Moves have been made, across town and across the globe. Adoptions have been made. One of my friends met my daughter this past fall while her daughter was visiting Benedictine. We have become a part of each other's lives.

But now the board is dead. The three-lettered company killed it this week. An end of an era.

A lot of us are Facebook friends. We can chat there, but it won't be the same. Another board has been set up elsewhere, but it isn't as easy to navigate. It will take some time before it feels like home. Some of our number won't know how to find it. We may lose contact with them after being friends for a decade or more. It's sad.

The board has influenced me in so many ways. Besides the friendship, I really grew in my faith due to all I learned there. I read books. I researched. I considered other views.

I remember posting there for the first time. I was nervous. My heart was beating fast and my hands were sweaty. Would anyone answer me? Would they tell me to go away and leave them alone? I was welcomed warmly and quickly became a part of the community. I started blogging because several of the other ladies had blogs and it seemed like a way to move deeper in our friendships, by sharing in more detail.

I miss the board. I hope we can continue the friendships made there. It has meant so much to me.