Choosing Holy Moments

Yesterday, I found a sweet little book in my mailbox.  Not sure who sent it to me, but it added joy to my day and opened my eyes to a simple truth. This little gem is called “Holy Moments” by Matthew Kelly.

In its simplicity, this book brings to one’s heart a sense of a new awareness… the awareness that each day opens up countless moments for us to make a choice. Ultimately, those choices lead to holy moments, or unholy moments.

Holy moments help us to find meaning and Divine Purpose in our lives.  They bring us closer to God, which then radiates out to other people.  Unholy moments put a wedge between us and God.  The more disconnected we are from God, the more we feel that our life is meaningless.  We become numb, depressed, anxious, or frustrated. We know that we are not living up to our potential.

We don’t understand that it is the “day to day” way of life that builds the foundation of our relationship with God, and with each other.  Sometimes, or most of the time, we go through each day without much thought regarding the many little decisions we are called to make.  At the same time, we wonder why God does not reveal to us what our purpose is.  We are always looking for that special “something” that we know God created us for.

How can we open ourselves to God, and how can we make ourselves available to Him?  We look to The World, The Church, Politics, and anyone other than ourselves to make the changes that are needed in our very sick culture.

The changes that are needed in the world must start within each heart.

How can I change to be a better, more loving person?  What can I do in my little part of the world to effect change?

There are some who are called to mighty ministries and almost unbelievable sacrifice.  We have much to learn from them, and aspire to have the faith that fuels them.  However, from what I have seen, I would say that most are called to the daily carrying of their crosses…this includes making choices to love when we don’t feel it, and reaching out to help others when we are “comfortable” and “safe”  in our own circumstances.

Holy moments could be found in many ways.  Here are some everyday examples, taken from “Holy Moments” pages 51-52:

Control your temper, even if you are fully justified in losing it.

Pray before making a decision.

Encourage someone, coach someone, praise someone, affirm someone.

Be patient with that person who drives you crazy.

Do something that helps you become a-better-version-of-yourself, even when you don’t feel like it.

Give whoever is in front of you your full attention.  That’s a Holy Moment.

Begin each day with a prayer of gratitude.

Catch someone doing something right and praise them.Overlook an offense against you.

Go out of your way to make the new person feel welcome. 

Take your spouse’s car and fill it with gas.

Take an interest in someone: Ask about the best part of his day; ask about her dreams.

Give someone a life changing book.

Stand up for someone who is being bullied or belittled.

Write a love letter.

Clean up the mess even though you didn’t make it.

Express your appreciation to someone who helps you.

Pray for the people who are having the hardest day of their lives right now.

These are all seemingly little choices that are made every day.  But how many times do we actually make the choice for a Holy Moment?

Always be aware that even the smallest of Holy Moments have the God given capacity to  fill hearts with love and joy…and when we are used as a vessel to carry love to others, our own hearts swell with peace, love and mercy.

When I started this blog, I decided to call it “Somebody Loves Me”…because sometimes, a person needs to know that “Somebody Loves Me” before they can know that “God Loves Me!”  Let’s be that “somebody” and focus on making the choice for more “Holy Moments” each and every day.  Let’s allow Our Lord  to work through us, spread His love and mercy, and make the world a better place.

 

 

 

 

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The Choice to be a Blessing

On Thursday, May 14, 2020, I was talking with my oldest sister, Patti, on the phone.  She started telling me the story of her life in a way that she never had before.  Something stirred me to record all that she was sharing with me.

Patti’s life on earth ended on December 6, 2021, however, she will always live on in the countless hearts she touched.  The world became a little dimmer when she left us, for she chose not to hide her light under a basket…she shared her radiance with all she met.

Here is the beginning of Patti’s story…and I am blessed to have been a small part of her story.

Patricia Anne was a beautiful, rambunctious, and a deeply lonely child.  Back in the time where unwed pregnancy was rare and usually looked down upon, Patti was born on November 3, 1942, the result of an early teenage pregnancy, where her father and mother were deemed too young by the presiding judge at the time, to marry.  For a while, her biological father was a part of her life, and contributed to her upbringing, but that contact was fleeting, and Patti found herself mostly being raised by her loving grandparents, due to the fact that her mother was working two jobs to contribute to the home’s finances.

While listening to Patti’s recollection of Mom as a young woman, I can almost feel my mother’s light and free spirit before life’s heavy burdens came crashing down on her, and eventually, on our whole family.

Mom would walk down the street toward home, after a long day of work.  Patti would be waiting anxiously for the sound that she knew would indicate mom’s presence…a whistle!  As soon as she heard mom whistling, she would bolt off the front porch and race to the person she adored, and would bask in the love and feel of her mother, while she became intoxicated with Mom’s signature fragrance of “White Shoulders.” 

Although Patti was very much loved by her mother, grandparents, and the aunts and uncles that she was blessed with, she suffered an emptiness that could not be filled.   She longed for the father that she was missing, the father that all of her friends had in their homes.

She felt an emptiness that could not be filled by the love she was surrounded by.

Patti acted out the pain that she couldn’t truly comprehend, by kicking any male caller that came to the house…sometimes throwing random objects at them.  She also couldn’t stay in one place for long…always having the need to keep moving.  Patti looked at this behavior as a child, as “being a brat.”  She loved to spend time with as many friends as possible, and enjoyed physical activities like climbing roofs and trees, which Grandma didn’t like so much.  Grandma would always track her down, dragging her home, all the way flicking a switch from a tree up and down Patti’s legs.

Somehow, the beatings did not dissuade Patti from the activities and friendships that she craved.  She was headstrong, and this trait proved to work well for her as she continued to be a fighter through the struggles that life would bring to her.

Patti spent her childhood in the small town of Campbell, Ohio…a very ethnic and religious community.   At the age of 6, she met 5-year-old Cecelia, who had just moved into the area from Czechoslovakia…only a few houses away.  They were partners in crime, and forged a true friendship, which remained strong all through the years.

Around this time, new friendships were also being made at St. John the Baptist School.  Janet and Patti became close, as well as Ramona, who was Janet’s cousin.  The three of them clung tight to each other as friends, and spent much time together.  One time in particular stands out in Patti’s memory.

Norma Jean would hang out with Janet, Ramona, and Patti.  When describing Norma Jean, the word “brat” was mentioned!  It seems that Norma Jean made a habit out of irritating Patti.  She did things like stomping on Patti’s feet, pushing, and pulling on clothes, which resulted in Patti’s sleeve being torn.  Patti, being Patti, fought back, and was told by her friends that they better take the fight outside, so Janet’s mother wouldn’t punish them for fighting.

What my sister relayed next was a little shocking for me…since I always think of her as my angelic sister, and had never heard this story.

Patti and Norma Jean took their fight outside, and Patti threw that little girl down into the snow and pushed her head down hard.  She wouldn’t let her up until she cried “uncle,” which she did.  Patti found her own way of handling bullies. 

Norma Jean never bothered her again.

When Patti was about nine or ten years old, Bill (our dad) came into her world.  Mom had brought some other boyfriends to meet Patti…usually by way of taking Patti on their dates for ice cream.  However, somehow, this man was different.  He and Patti forged a relationship, and he seemed to get along with Grandma and Grandpa…they actually liked him a lot.  He was Catholic, so that was a positive! He was like a knight in shining armor to Patti.

Finally, she had a father figure in her life, and she relished time spent with him.

I heard stories from my mom that dad enjoyed being around their family, because his family was extremely dysfunctional and he was attracted to the warmth that Grandma and Grandpa offered him.  The first Christmas that mom and dad were dating, Dad fashioned a beautiful evergreen wreath for the family to hang on their front door.  They were enamored of him.

All seemed like a dream come true for Patti.

However, the warm glow of having a father figure around, was dissipated when Grandma and Grandpa learned that Bill was a divorced man.  He also had a baby daughter that he left with his ex-wife in California, feeling that his daughter, Kathleen, was in a safe and happy place surrounded with her mother and grandparents.  I believe that dad honestly thought he was doing the right thing by leaving his daughter to be raised by her mother, and staying out of the picture.  Remember, he had no real concept of family life, because of his horrendous upbringing, which would be a complete story in itself.

So, when it was discovered that Bill was a divorced man, which was completely forbidden in the Catholic Church, Grandma started beating mom viciously.  Patti was in the room and kept trying to intervene…actually putting herself between grandma and mom.  However, mom pushed Patti out of the way, and willingly took the beating.

Patti must have received her tenaciousness from Mom, because Mom stayed with Dad.  It took time, but eventually, he was not only accepted by Grandma and Grandpa, but was loved by them.  Dad always respected and loved them, and was there for them whenever they needed his help throughout the years.

When Dad was called to work in Chicago, he and Mom moved there before they were married. Patti stayed home with Grandma and Grandpa, until home and finances were put into place for Patti to join them.

Sometime, in that period of time, they were married.  However, the details and date of their marriage is a mystery to us to this day.

Patti spent a summer with Mom and Bill (Dad) in Chicago when she was 11, and returned back home to Campbell, OH, due to Grandma and Aunt Annie’s (who was more like Patti’s sister at this point) tearful prodding.

Patti returned to stay with Mom and Dad, and at this time they were living in Gary, IN.  Patti, who was now 12, had a baby sister, Veronica, and she happily babysat and helped with chores while Mom and Dad worked.

At the same time, Patti found her first love, “Wayne.”  He lived a few houses away, with his parents and three brothers.  When his mom had troubles throughout a pregnancy, Patti cooked, babysat and cleaned for them, all the while still taking care of baby Veronica and chores at home.

When her friend, Birdie, from Chicago invited Patti to visit with her family for a week or two, Mom and Dad agreed, due to the wonderful ways that Patti was showing responsibility.

It was in Chicago that Patti most probably contracted Polio, that would change her life forever, and also deeply affect the lives of her Mom, Dad, and sisters. 

Once she returned home from her vacation with Birdie, twelve-year-old Patti was riding bikes with her friends, Judy and Micky.  They were exploring Horace Mann High School, where Patti would be attending that fall and were pushing their bikes up a set of stairs, where they planned to ride through the halls of the school.

As Patti was pushing her bike, the first polio symptom that she felt was an intense dizziness, almost to the point of fainting.

It was evident to her friends that it was concerning, so they told her to be sure to tell her mother when she got home. For some reason, Patti begged them not to.  However, mom was told and Patti reassured her that she was just fine.

The next day, Thursday, August 25, 1955, Patti was out again riding her bike, dressed in long pants, long sleeved shirt, and a poplin jacket.  She was still shivering with cold.  It was 90 degrees outside.

That same night, Patti was experiencing all over body aches.  She didn’t know what to do, and was moving from one room to the next, probably seeking some type of relief or comfort.    She knew in her heart she had polio, and for some reason kept it from her parents.

In the morning, her fever was high, and she was laying on the downstairs couch.  The doctor was called for a home visit.  He said to the three of them, “It may be the flu or something else…let’s hope for the flu.”  He was to be called with any changes in symptoms.

After the doctor left, Patti needed to use the restroom.  When she stood up, her legs gave way and she fell.  Dad started to pick her up, to carry her upstairs to the bathroom.  She begged him to let her do it herself.  “I think this is the last time I can do this. Let me do it myself.”

And she crawled up the stairs herself.

Dad helped Patti get into her pajamas, and the doctor was called.  When she was being carried out to the ambulance, the neighbors surrounded her with love.  She knew she would never walk again, but faced her reality with courage and a smile, and never once cried or lamented her fate.

She chose to be a blessing.

It was revealed later that Veronica, who was a baby at the time, had a high fever the week before, with no other symptoms.  So it was not clear whether Veronica may have infected Patti, or if the virus was introduced to Patti in Chicago.

Either way, Patti’s life trajectory was forever changed.  And the lives that she touched and continues to touch even in death, would be blessed in unimaginable ways.  God has a way of doing that! 

As a side note, Patti made sure to tell me that she shaved and cut her legs for the first time, during her Chicago visit with Birdie. That was one of her special “moments to remember.”  When she shared that tidbit with me, it made me smile that she could treasure such small life events, that we all usually just take for granted.

Her boyfriend,Wayne, ended up moving away and they lost contact for a while.  However, he did continue to visit and gifted Patti with a beautiful white Catholic Bible. He also gave her a box of Whitman Chocolates in a golden box.  She kept that box, and I saw it for years, never knowing the story behind it until now.

They had learned about life and love as they swung on the front porch until the wee hours of the morning each night…talking about everything they could imagine.  In the days before her illness and paralysis, it was just two young people sharing sweet and innocent time together.

Oblivious of what was to come…

 

 

 

 

Easter Memories

In my childhood, there was a specialness of “giving something up” and “no meat on Fridays”  during Lent.  My little girl mind did not understand fully, however I did grasp the idea that there is much internal preparation throughout the Lenten Season, which opens our hearts to the loving sacrifice that Our Lord Jesus offered for us…His suffering, death and resurrection, that ultimately rescued us from the wages of sin and destroyed the power of death.

The Stations of the Cross, which commemorate Jesus’s passion and death on the cross, helped me to feel especially close to Jesus by bringing His journey to Calvary to life.  It is a beautiful meditation that still draws me in…as the years go by, the meaning of each of the 14 stations burrows deeper and deeper into my heart.

Of course, there was something else that was special for a little girl back in those days…Easter Sunday wouldn’t be complete without a new outfit.  Our family certainly did not have a lot of money, but somehow my sisters and I would have a beautiful new dress, shoes, hat, a little purse, white gloves, and a spring coat.

I remember feeling so special walking into St. John the Baptist Church, in Youngstown, OH, wearing my Sunday best, and seeing all of my friends there.  White Easter lilies adorned the altar, and Easter Mass was extra beautiful.  The music and hymns were captivating…”Jesus Christ is Risen Today” is still my favorite.

After Mass, it was a relaxing day spent with family.  All of the foods that scream “Easter Celebration” were simple and delicious.  Baked ham with pineapples, brown sugar and cloves, deviled eggs, potato salad and/or mashed potatoes, and creamed peas.  The main attraction for me were the kolachi rolls…yummy pastries filled with nuts, poppyseed, apricot or prune.  There was really no favorite kolachi, because each one was amazing, and needed to be sampled.

Of course, there were Easter baskets filled with dyed Easter eggs and our favorite candies…chocolate eggs that featured coconut, peanut butter, mint or meltaway lusciousness.  My mom and dad knew how to put together a perfect Easter Basket for each of us!

Now that I am older, I still enjoy the tradition of family time together, and sharing Easter Dinner.  It is heartwarming to enjoy the Holidays with our sons, their wives, and our grandchildren, and we hope that their memories of our times together live on in their hearts as treasures. However, the highlight for me will always be Easter Mass, and the reception of Jesus in the Holy Eucharist.

I wish you a blessed, beautiful Easter…whether it is celebrated with family, friends or you alone with Jesus.

Because of Our Lord’s willingness to embrace the Cross of His Passion and Death, and the glory of His Resurrection, we have been set free, and are no longer slaves to sin.  He has already conquered the enemy..sin and death.  We are free in Him.  Satan knows that Truth…it is time that we know it too…we must live our lives in that knowledge. Alleluia!

 

 

 

Stations of the Cross

Absolutely beautiful meditation…especially on this Good Friday.

May God bless and keep you.

Listening for His Voice

Have you ever personally felt and known God’s Presence?  I have, on many occasions.  This post that I wrote a few years back, reminded me of one of those amazing times.  Just wanted to share it with you:

Being that it’s a gorgeous sunny day today…in the eighties, I decided to take a walk during my lunch hour.

As I stepped outside and breathed in that amazingly warm and comforting air, I asked God to speak to me.  You see, usually I pray (talk!) the whole time I am walking, so I asked the Lord to do the talking today.

And I was listening for His voice.

For a few moments I was hearing the common drone of cars humming down the main road, and those sounds gave way to the gentle whirring of the breeze around me.  All of a sudden, there was the sound of a bird squawking.  The sound was getting nearer and nearer to me, and I looked down.  The bird was running in circles right in front of me and making all sorts of crazy sounds.  Then I saw it.  Her baby was off to the left of me, running toward the grass.  I realized that the mommy bird was protecting her baby!

Seeing the natural instinct of a mother protecting her little one really warmed my heart.  I thanked God for showing me such beauty, turned the corner and stepped up to the sidewalk.  Then I saw something I wish I hadn’t.  I saw two little furry baby birds, all soft and downy, lying dead on the ground.  I asked the Lord why He allowed me to see that?  Why did I need to see those sweet little birds that looked as though they just died?  And why did they have to die in the first place?

He answered, “there is beauty to be found through both life and death.”  After a few more steps, once again I looked down, and I saw it.  A bookmark had flown over and landed on the side of the path I was walking on.

I saw the words…Jesus is Alive! And I understood that because of Jesus, death holds no power over us.  In Christ Jesus, we are saved.  He is waiting for us to invite Him into our hearts and our lives, and accept the precious gifts He offers us.  Love, mercy, and salvation.  These are not merely words to bring us comfort.  Jesus is truly alive…He is right here with us now!

Lord, there are so many times I don’t understand your ways.  I don’t understand why some people suffer more than others, why some seem to attract the good things of the world, while others struggle just to survive.  Help me to understand that you are present in all of our lives, and in all circumstances.  Help me to trust that your grace is sufficient in all things, and that suffering, even death itself, can bring us closer to you.  All we need to do is open our hearts to you, and ask that you fill us with your saving holy presence.

Open Your Wounded Heart

For about the last week, an image has been imprinted on my mind.  This same image, and what I believe is the meaning behind it, will not leave my thoughts.

I believe that I am being prodded to share what has been given to me.

Hopefully, your heart, no matter how wounded it is, or how high you have built your wall up to block the pain of those wounds, will open up to the pure love and mercy that only Jesus can bring.

Whenever I gaze at a Crucifix, or meditate on Jesus hanging on the cross and dying for me, the image that I see is what I would see looking toward him.

The focus of that perspective is the pain, and complete agony and suffering of our Lord and Savior…followed by the feeling of sorrow that I played a part in that suffering…through the times of turning my back on Him and through the grievous sins of my life.  That is the image that I usually experienced.

Now, I am viewing the image as Jesus would be seeing  it…looking out.

What first went through my mind was, “Of course He is looking out…He is always looking out in love.”

Then my mind started asking the question, “What was He seeing as He was suffering on that Holy Cross?”

As He struggled to keep His eyes open, through the blood and sweat that must have been dripping down His face, His eyes would have focused on His Mother and her sister, Mary, wife of Clopas, Mary of Magdala, and His beloved Apostle, John.  He saw the love and grief on their faces, and filled them with His Mercy and Pure Love…drawing them in even closer to Himself.

His eyes must have also scanned the empty spots…where were all of His followers? The anguish of being abandoned by His disciples…His Chosen…due to fear and lack of faith, must have added immensely to His suffering.

How do we still add to His suffering, due to our lack of faith, or fear?   How many times do we pass up the opportunity to spend an hour in His Holy Presence  during Adoration, or ignore His invitation to attend the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, and receive His Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity in the Holy Eucharist?   Or how many times do we just go through the motions of attending Mass, and actually go up to The Altar, to receive His Body and Blood, while being in the state of Mortal Sin?  Why do we keep holding on to sins that hinder our relationship with Him…why do we choose not to receive the graces offered to us through the Sacrament of Confession?

When Jesus looked out as He was dying, He saw all of those things. He knew how we would all turn our backs on Him.

He saw those of us that were mocking Him, and those who were choosing the road that leads toward death.  He experienced the reality of our hopelessness and despair, in those that were (or would be) confused and deceived by the evil one.  As He hung on The Cross, He saw the evils that were done in darkness…that separated those hearts from Himself.

And Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.”  Luke 23:34

Jesus looked at all of us in our sin, and felt compassion, mercy and love for us.  He reaches out to each one of us, every single day, in many ways.

You know the ways He is reaching out for you.  You already are feeling the little nudges that He blesses you with…how long will you wait to accept His Sacrifice for you?

Take that step of Faith…open your wounded heart to His comforting and healing Presence.  

You were created for just that…to be one with Him.  Reach out for His loving, merciful heart that is reaching for you.

 

https://catholicstand.com/the-mass-calvary-made-present-for-each-generation/

 

 

 

 

True Gifts of Christmas

This Christmas card touches my heart  all the way through to my core.  It was sent by a lovely lady (and her daughter) that I met at the Assisted Living Community where I had worked before moving to Colorado.

Sometimes, when you meet a person, you just feel a heart connection.  That is how I felt as I got to know Delores.  She was feisty, straight forward, and had a heart of gold.  She had a way of bringing a smile to my face, and somehow always “knew” when I was troubled.

I am sharing this card with you, because to me, it breaks through the “busyness” and sometimes craziness of the season.  All the gifts, parties, and decorations pale in the presence of the simple acts of love that are shared on this beautiful card.

Delores, thank you for the love and smiles that you brought into my life.  And thank you for this special card…it will be displayed during  Christmas for years to come!  I will think of you each time I am reminded of what Christmas is all about…and what the True Gifts of Christmas are.  Those gifts are meant to be given year round, and are healing and life changing for both the giver and the recipient!

Merry Christmas to all!

A Step Forward in Faith

Are you struggling right now?  Do you KNOW something is missing in your life…or maybe experiencing pain, despair, confusion, or doubt that there is a God that loves you?

There is a way to move closer and closer to Jesus.  There is a way to find inner peace even as you tread through the storms of your day to day life. There is a way to truly have faith in God, and know that He is there for you. Always.

KNOWING Jesus will fill you with such a deep love and faith… life will change for you!

This video is the testimony of young men who have experienced miraculous change in their lives after making the decision to pray the rosary.  Listen to their stories, listen to how their hearts (and lives) were changed.  Our Blessed Mother loves us so much, that she desires to bring us closer to her son.  She loves YOU that much…trust her to love you through your struggles, as any loving mother would, and trust her to lead you to the saving grace of Jesus.

Praying/meditating on the mysteries of the rosary is changing my heart and my life…in unbelievable ways.  Are you ready to take a step forward in faith?  May God be with you on your faith journey.

The One Thing Necessary

Wanted to share something I read today…it breaks through all of the excuses and defenses that we (I) carry.

The One Thing Necessary

“We all in a way harden our hearts a little bit; some to the point where they no longer hear the Word of God at all. There is always that one person that you haven’t totally forgiven or loved with a pure love. There is still that one thing you won’t give up for Jesus. You are still capping your love. You do everything but this one thing. Well, do it today.”

I don’t know about you, but I have a few things that are “capping my love.”  Mother Angelica has a way of speaking the Truth straight to the heart!  May we pray for the grace needed to help us give Jesus our all.

Taken from Mother Angelica’s Little Book of Life Lessons and Everyday Spirituality (Page 130)

 

Missing my Mom

Out to Dinner
Bernadette and Mom

Today is my mother’s birthday.  She passed away seven years ago, at the age of 88.

I am really missing her today.

Due to the intricacies and craziness that weaved the fabric of our family, I did not feel close with my mother growing up.  I loved her because she was my mom.  She was always there in our home, making sure that we were safe and well fed.  She had her own issues that she suffered through her whole life, that I was completely oblivious to.  All I knew was that I loved her and she loved me…however, we did not know eachother’s hearts during those years.  Due to the dynamics of our family, that revolved around the care of my quadriplegic older sister, there were no long mother/daughter talks, lunches out, shopping excursions or anything else that I imagine mothers and daughters doing together.

All of that would change when my father passed away.  My mom was unable to live on her own, so my husband and I invited her to live with us.  After a little prodding by my hubby, she decided to move from Ohio to our Virgina home, and lived with us for about 11 years.  As I get older, I am more able to understand how difficult that decision must have been for her.  She had lived in that home, (and raised four daughters in it) for decades.  We helped her to sell her home, which meant giving away and throwing away most of the material things that were attached to her heart as memories.

Now looking back, my heart is opened up to the grace that my mom exhibited through the move, growing older, and living with my husband and me.  She was a bit of a hoarder, along with my dad, as they grew older and less able.  Although it was extremely hard for her, she allowed me and my sister to clean out her house, save the things that we knew she would want to keep, and then move her into our home.

That move changed everything.  Although I was secretly hoping for that “magical” mother and daughter relationship to develop, what I was blessed with was learning the reality of who my mother was, and I also learned so much about myself in the process.

Learning about and accepting yourself is more of a struggle than I ever realized…and the serendipity in that, is that learning about yourself usually leads you to learn about others.  Both my mom and I had layers upon layers to be peeled away.  Her layers were even more stubborn than mine, and many remained tightly shut.  I learned to respect that in her…and learned to love who she was instead of who I thought she should be.

So, Happy Birthday, Mom!  I wish you were here so we could share some of your Coconut Birthday Cake that you loved so much.  And I could watch your eyes light up while opening a new Barbie Doll for your collection, or your favorite body care lotions and sprays, or some sparkly piece of jewelry.  Small things brought you joy, and you passed that trait on to me.

I am remembering simple, sweet moments that we shared together.  At the time, I had no idea of the value of those moments.  But I think you did…and I thank you for being the mother that you were to me, and for the love that you shared with me and our family, in your own unique way.

Some of the moments that bring smiles to my heart:

You always praised my cooking and baking.  When even I knew it was pretty bad, you would say, “That was different!”

When we would shop at Costo while I was pushing you in your wheelchair and you were pushing a cart ahead of the wheelchair.  You would have me pile so many items in the cart that I could hardly see to navigate your chair.

You insisted on buying  a “Grabber” for me.  I fought you on it, because I was “not old and didn’t need one.”  I think of you each time I use that thing!

You always had childlike wonder during holidays.  You loved things that reminded you of years past…and the years of raising us girls.  Some of those things that brought you joy were Jelly Beans, Easter Peeps, Candy Corn, Ribbon Candy, Flowers, Wreaths, Candles…the list goes on.  Christmas music and Christmas cards.  I miss writing our cards together, and reading the little notes you added to your cards.

You always thought of others.  Little gifts for friends/loved ones.  Many prayers each day that you offered for so many.  I am sure those prayers saved me on more than one occasion.

I miss the way you looked up at me over your cute reading glasses, to ask me how my day at work was.

I miss the way you insisted on seeing my outfit when I was leaving for work or an event, and always complimenting me. (it was nice to hear even if I did not always feel that I looked the way you said I did!)

I miss your blue eyes, and the way they teared up at Mass.

I miss the way you talked about how much you loved all of us sisters, and our growing families.

I especially miss the way you overlooked all of my weaknesses and loved me as I am.

I miss the way YOU NEVER GAVE UP.

Mom, you are loved and missed.  Hopefully, you are able to see those of us that are still living in this world, and you can feel the love we carry in our hearts for you, through the veil of heaven and earth.

Rest in the Love of The Lord. Until we meet again…

1 Peter 3:4: “You should be known for the beauty that comes from within, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is so precious to God.”

Deuteronomy 4:9: “Only be careful, and watch yourselves closely so that you do not forget the things your eyes have seen or let them fade from your heart as long as you live. Teach them to your children and to their children after them.”

Luke 2:51: “And his mother treasured up all these things in her heart.”