Our children are not our own

It was a beautiful day.  A new friend and co-worker of Dale's had invited us over for swimming and burgers.  After we arrived, I took a few minutes to get the little ones ready to swim.  They had not really been swimming in Maryland, so this was new to them--and having little people in a pool was new to me.

Dale was blowing up the "wings" for the boys to wear and Brianna was waiting in the kitchen.  I (five months pregnant) decided to make one last bathroom visit before getting wet.  I headed for the bathroom, then, for no obvious reason, turned back toward the kitchen and pool.

I turned back just in time to see that Brianna had gone ahead of us out the sliding door and was trying to climb on the large, inflatable killer whale in the pool.  She hadn't been swimming before and didn't realize the danger of climbing on such a toy mid-pool.  She, as the oldest, was sure of herself and had no reason to think that she shouldn't try out this nifty toy.

The bathroom had to wait.  (obviously)

Much coughing and sputtering ensued. 

This was the first of many pool incidents that would happen in the following years, almost all of which occurred with parents near or in the pool...and almost all of which only resulted in much coughing and sputtering.  Had I not turned back, this incident would have had an entirely different ending.

That same summer, in the community pool where we were renting, I was playing around with Nathan (three years old at the time).  I was still pregnant.  Dale was getting the others ready.  We were in the shallow end with Nathan holding the edge.  I turned to retrieve a toy from the bottom-which only takes seconds.  When I turned back around, Nathan was already a few feet from the edge and was standing on the bottom -- with his head almost completely submerged.  He wasn't splashing or fighting or panicking in any way.  He just stood there.

Two years later, with everyone swimming in the pool except me (inside making dinner), but including Dale, Gabriel (now almost 2) fell in the deep end.  Nathan saw and alerted Dale.  Gabriel was just below the surface, face up, with his hands shaking above the surface.  Dale screamed his name, alerting me.  I ran out and grabbed him from Dale.  We sat for about ten minutes letting him cough up what seemed like cups of water into a towel.  Then, because I had recently read about secondary drowning, we took him to the ER to get checked out. 

This incident scared him enough that he stayed away from the pool.  Unfortunately, the pool runs about 2/3 the length of the house and is only about 2 1/2 feet from the house, leaving little room to go by.

As you know, just a short six months later, Gabriel drowned.  No one had been swimming.  People had been going in and out the back door grilling burgers and playing.  Everyone came in to eat.  Everyone except Gabriel.  The details of that evening will be forever etched in my memory.

At the wake, I noticed a bruise on his forehead and bridge of his nose.  I was puzzled until I remembered seeing a 2 foot or so length of 2x4 floating in the pool.  We figure that he saw us go in, followed, tripped, hit his head on the wood he was holding, and fell in.  He was scared of the pool.

Life, though strong, is fragile

Just like that, in an instant, life as we knew it died.  It died with my precious son.  Happy family of six became bereaved family of five.  To be hit by a truck would not have been more shocking.  As a science-minded individual, I was intrigued by the way that such a mental/psychological trauma can manifest physically.  We found that we could not eat, and were not hungry.  Sleep became nearly impossible, but we were getting a little by the end of the week.  Hunger returned by the weekend.

I was six months pregnant with our fifth when Gabriel died.  The first four had all been over 7 pounds with Gabriel being over eight.  Three months later, tiny 6 pound Cecilia was born.  She wasn't early, just skinny.  Even though our diet had gotten back to normal, she suffered in the womb from our grief.

Physical reactions to certain cues persisted rather strongly for a long time, then became more mild.  Some have described this as PTSD.  I don't know.

God was there

When a child dies, people always wonder, "How could God let this happen?  Where was He?"

God knows everything that has ever and will ever happen.  It is all part of His plan. 

Every breath.

Every heartbeat.

He knew every bit of it even as He was forming Adam out of clay.  He knew as He formed Gabriel in the womb that he would die March 7, 2006. 

In the years leading up to that moment, God had been preparing us, strengthening our faith, enriching our knowledge with His Word.  As I struggled to revive my baby, I cried out to Him.  As the emergency workers were working on Gabriel, scripture verses poured in to my mind, the most notable being, "Let this cup pass from me...not my will but Thine be done."  This is not the thought of a mother whose child might already be dead.  God was holding me close and whispering to me.

God was carrying me into the spiritual deep end.  He did not abandon me there, but showed me that He had already taught me to swim.  What a wonderful Father He is.  My spiritual brothers and sisters, the saints, now including my perfect son, were praying for me.  With their help and God's grace I progressed very quickly from wound to scar.  Of course, scars can hurt for life.  This one does.

Gabriel was God's child.  He always was.  The reading on the day he was baptized was from the first chapter of Jeremiah, "Before I formed you in the womb I knew you."  In two short years, his earthly work was done. 

God had a few more things to say.  The day Gabriel died, the reading for Mass was Isaiah 55: 10-11.  This is a beautiful verse.  The favorite song of the choir I was in was based on it.  In it, God says, "For just as from the heavens the rain and snow come down and do not return there till they have watered the earth, making it fertile and fruitful, giving seed to him who sows and bread to him who eats, so shall my word be that goes forth from my mouth; It shall not return to me void, but shall do my will, achieving the end for which I sent it."  The passage, and the song, continue: "Yes, in joy you shall depart, in peace you shall be brought back; Mountains and hills shall break out in song before you."

In Joy you shall depart

This is how the song, "This is My Word" finishes :

And you will go out in Joy, and be led forth in peace

And the hills will break before you into song.

So be faithful brave and true, for I will go before you, 

And when your earthly journey here is done, 

I'll say, "Well done."

The significance of this was not lost on me, in spite of my traumatic loss.  I had the great and undeserved honor of being the mother of a saint.  My precious son had eternally arrived.  He is home.

Life continues

What brought this all to mind this week?  It's summer and we're swimming.  So far, we've had a couple scares, both with people in the pool.  Such is life with pools and little ones.  They're learning the basics, but things still happen.  The older children are getting a crash course in spotting trouble.  They are learning that drowning is visually very calm and silent.  There is no yelling or splashing.  Unless you see it, you'll miss it and the child will die. 

Dale wanted to fill the pool with dirt after Gabriel drowned.  I did as well.  Still, with ponds and beaches and pools all around us, learning to swim may yet prove to be valuable.  So we carry on.

Life is fragile.  We are not our own.  Our children are not our own.  We are God's.  His plan is for our salvation.  "All things work to good," Paul tells us.  God already knows our "itinerary" for our "journey home." 

"Our hearts ache for home."
    -- Nicol Sponberg

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q58QOVAG6AQ

Kids say the darndest things

I truly hope that every parent out there experiences joy on a daily basis.  These little people with which God has gifted us can be an endless source of mirth.

There have been countless examples over the years, but I'll just mention a few here.

Pizzalms

My oldest reads her Bible more often than many.  One day, she was telling me about some verses.  I asked what book she was reading.

She responded, "Pizzalms."

"Uh, WHAT?"

"Pizzalms.  The book Pizzalms."

Then, it dawned on me.  She was reading Psalms.  I started laughing.  Hard.  Something about that just tickled my brain.

Birds don't wear panties

That's probably self explanatory, right?

Well, Cecilia (then 4) was running around the house naked.  It was morning and she had not yet dressed for the day.  I called out to her to put on some panties...several times...as she ran around naked.  After several minutes she picked up two of those padded knee mats for gardening and waved one in each hand.

"Look, mommy, I'm a bird!" she declared as she ran around flapping her arms...still naked.

"Cecilia, go get some panties."

*a minute later...

"Cecilia, GO GET SOME  PANTIES!"

"Mommy, birds don't wear panties!"

Can't argue with that logic.

Dizzy

Running around naked (again-sensing a trend, no?).  Cecilia (then three) was running around in circles until breathless.

When she stopped, she held out her arms and wobbled a bit as she exclaimed, "Whew, I'm so dizzy."

Can I cut up some mango?

Just a few days ago, Nathan (12) came to me to ask if he could cut up some mango.  It was almost dinner, so I took a few seconds to decide on an answer.  He looked down at his nice white shirt, and, assuming I was delaying answering out of concern for his shirt, ripped it off.

"NOW can I cut up some mango?"

I couldn't help myself.  I started to chuckle.  I glanced over at Dale.  He was laughing as well.  To anyone watching, it looked as if our son had just stripped for mango.

Then, puzzled and still waiting for an answer from his amused mom, he "rested" his hands on his head.  His three year old sister began poking him in the hip, causing him to shimmy his hips around.

Yep.  He stripped off his shirt and was now shimmying his hips with his hands on his head.

"WELL?  CAN I?"

Oh, dear.  We were laughing so hard now.  Tears were rolling.  The poor child had no clue what was so dang funny.

"Yes.  YES!  Please go cut up some mango."

DANG!

Last summer, my mother-in-law stayed with us for a few weeks to help while we awaited the arrival of baby Joshua.

One night, she was bathing Cecilia and Bella.  Cecilia was observing that her butt was bigger than Bella's butt.  Grandma told her that was because Cecilia was older than Bella.

Then Grandma told Cecilia how old she was.  Cecilia glanced toward Grandma's backside and said, emphatically, "DANG!"

Bubbles

In our house, passing gas is called making bubbles.  Somehow, it's less offensive when it is cute.  Last year, Bella (then 2) had not yet figured out the difference between a "bubble" and a "poopoo" but she knew that big people did that in the potty.

Grandma knew about "bubble" but not that Bella thought it meant poop.  Soooo, when she and Bella were out and Grandma confided to little Bella that she had "bubbled," she was a little taken aback by the look of alarm and dismay on Bella's face.

We got a good laugh later when we explained to Grandma that Bella thought that she had pooped in her pants.



I could go on and on and on.  What all these stories have in common is that they are commonplace.  These are not set up moments of hilarity.  They are embedded in the fabric of life.  You just have to notice them.

And since we are made in His image I am sure of one thing.

God Laughs.

Can you say "Hiatus?"

Last post was almost 2 years ago.  At that time, we found out we were expecting our seventh child.  We had new preparations to consider--preparations that aren't necessary for just one or two children.

We are the proud owners of a huge, white 15 passenger van!  We drove up to  the Atlanta area for a family wedding and had a fun time with my sister and her family while camping.

From Thanksgiving until Easter, we enjoyed the company of my in-laws.  They now spend half the year in upper Michigan and the other half just north of Orlando, visiting us frequently.

As June approached (the month of baby's arrival) we made arrangements for Grandma to stay with us for a few weeks.  Our plan was for her to arrive a couple days before the due date.  Commence snickering.

Most of my babies were induced a week late.  The last two before this one were very punctual and arrived naturally on their due date.  We decided to provide "Murphy" (law anyone?) with plenty of opportunities.  The company picnic was scheduled on the due date---and was an hour away in the summer heat in Miami.  We had a great time at the picnic, hoping the entire time that we'd have to make a hasty retreat due to labor.  Murphy chuckled.

We did other outings for the next 12 days--unsuccessfully.

Finally, my OB reminded me that she'd be leaving the country for a week.  She'd be leaving in two days -- which was my 2 week overdue mark.  Panic!  Let's just say that she hand delivered an invitation for him to come out.  hehehe.

He was born the next day!  My OB got to attend her first home-birth.  It was awesome!

Fast forward a year.  Joshua just turned one.  He is a very well loved little boy.  He adores his brothers and sisters, especially Brianna (15-little mommy) and Nathan (12 and loves playing with him).

People always look shocked when they find out how large our family is.  Other parents comment that they could never handle it.  What they don't consider is that the hardest part is the first several years when there are two adults with several little people.  Now, we are more like four adults with several little people.  That makes a HUGE difference. 

I hope that the moms and dads out there love their children and experience joy and laughter with them every day.

I know we do.

Book of the week (or month)

I am reading "The End of the Present World and the Mysteries of the Future Life" by Fr. Charles Arminjon. This book was originally published in 1881 and reading it was considered by St. Therese to be "one of the greatest graces of my life."

As I read through it, I will post things that really strike me.

For instance, in the forward, Fr. Arminjon writes:

"It has seemed to us that one of the saddest fruits of rationalism, the fatal error and great plague of our century, the pestilential source from which our revolutions and social disasters arise, is the absence of the sense of the supernatural and the profound neglect of the great truths of the future life. The earth is afflicted with a dreadful desolation, because the majority of men, fascinated by the lure of fleeting pleasures, and absorbed in their worldly interests and the care of their material affairs, no longer fix their thoughts on the principal considerations of the Faith, and stubbornly refuse to recollect within themselves...

"The two causes of this terrifying indifference and profound universal lethargy are, obviously, ignorance and the unrestrained love of sensual pleasures that, by darkening the interior eye of the human soul, bring all its aspirations down to the narrow level of the present life...

***This was published in 1881---wow.


In the first chapter, titled, "The Necessity of Judgment" he writes:

"The materialistic, atheistic science of our century...persists in regarding the order and perfection of the universe merely as the result of chance. According to this false science, the present universe will always subsist, or, if it becomes progressively better, this will be solely through the effect of man's genius.

"...man, with the aid of science, will one day attain the pinnacle of his sovereignty. He will conquer time and space, make himself wings in order to propel himself toward the stars, and explore the wonders of the constellations... Nature, completely subdued by his genius, will then open like the horn of plenty upon a new humanity, pouring forth the fullness of desirable goods.

***emphasis mine. Humanity has now done this...

Fr. believes such a worldview is folly. He thinks that, "Just as the world had its youth, so there will come a time when the world will have its twilight, when it will hasten toward its evening and decline."

As Christians, we believe that when the world ends there will be a "new heavens and a new earth." While Scripture does not tell us the day or hour, it does provide some clues--"signs".

Some of the signs are vague and have been occurring to a greater or lesser degree throughout history, like earthquakes, flooding, large storms, large fires, etc.

However, there are some distinctive signs which are to precede the end of the world.

"The first of the events foreshadowing the end of time is the one to which the Savior refers in Matthew 24:14, when He says, "This good news of the Kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the world as a witness to all the nations. Only after that will the end come." The second of these signs will be the appearance of the man of sin, the Antichrist. The third: the conversion of the Jewish people, who will adore the Lord Jesus and recognize Him as the promised Messiah. Until then, says St. Paul, "Let no man deceive you my any means...as if the day of the lord were at hand."



The book then goes into these signs, judgment, and eschatology (last things).

Looking at these signs, I realize that technology has now made the first two possible. Technology has also made possible some of the foretold acts of the Antichrist--like some sort of implanted "mark" that will be required to buy or sell goods.


So, what do we do? There was a time when I was younger that I would be filled with dread after reading these passages. Now I simply pray that I play the role God has given me to the best of my ability with the help of His grace. If we trust Him when He promised in Isaiah that "All things work to good for those who love the Lord," than we have nothing to fear.

Jesus compared the "end of the world" to labor pains. They come on slowly, build up to a hard and fast (and painful) labor, and end in new life.

Times have changed

When I was just eight years old, I went to Girl Scout camp for the first time. I was a little homesick and got eat up a bit by mosquitoes, but it was a generally good experience. I went a few more times in the following years and had a wonderful time. I learned so much there.

During college I decided to go back to camp--this time as a camp counselor. Now, camp counseling is not a summer job one takes for the money. I think we were paid around $800 for the whole summer. Even then, that was mere pocket change.

Being a camp counselor was one of the most adventurous, fantastic, and challenging things I've ever done. I absolutely loved my childhood camp, so I applied at the SE LA Girl Scout Council. That summer, I became "Ribbit". My specialties among the campers included canoe instruction, critter and plant identification, nature trail guide, and singing camp songs.

At the start of my third summer the director decided it was time to blaze a trail through camp to the Tangipahoa River. So, for a week before the official start of camp, we counselors, armed with bushwhackers, machetes, saws, and axes, cleared a winding path. At one spot we even had to have the camp ranger cut a tree down to serve as a "bridge" across a small waterway. For the next few days as we completed the trail, we had to cross on that tree carrying all those tools and equipment. At the end of the week we emerged on the bank of the river and set up camp for the night. The following morning we tubed down the river before officially starting camp already very sunburned.

The photo above is the crossing where we initially had a tree. The bridge there is relatively new. The camp is Camp Whispering Pines in SE Louisiana. It is a fantastic camp.

This sounds like a miserable week, right? It was amazing. True, it was hard, blistering work, but the memories I have from that experience I will cherish forever. The sense of accomplishment was surpassed only by the spirit of adventure present. What an experience!

There were many other things that we did at camp that I wouldn't trade for anything.

That is why I am so disappointed that I cannot, in good conscience, send my own children to camp (or Girl Scouts).

There was an innocence back then that I don't see in today's children. I see it in my own because we have worked to maintain it in our home.

Movies, television, video games, music, etc. have all changed drastically. Shows that are PG or PG-13 now would have been R back then. Once we were watching Bambi with the children. I repeat, BAMBI (for heaven's sake). For the commercial break we were treated to a public service announcement featuring teens imploring their parents to talk to them about sex. During BAMBI!! Seriously??

Viagra, Extends (sp?), diet aid commercials, ads for horror movies or shows---it's apparently all fair game at any time of day and during any programming.

Let's just say that now my kids know what to do when we holler to look away while diving for the remote.

I do have acquaintances and relatives who would shake their heads and condescendingly inform us that:

1. The kids know about it already. No they don't. We homeschool and their experiences are censored. That's our job.

2. They will find out about it eventually and if they learn now they won't be shocked later (presumably in college). Well, heck. Someone may introduce them to drugs later. Maybe I should inject just a smidge now. Someone may introduce cigarettes later so I should let them smoke one a day now. Someone may get them addicted to porn later so I should buy them each a pin-up now. I am certain they will get drunk in college so I should get them drunk occasionally now so they know what to expect!!!??? I could go on. The fact that Planned Parenthood addresses Girl Scout events is also rather disturbing IMHO.

*HUMBLE OPINION ALERT*

I believe that it is my job to foster the natural innocence in my children. It is also my job to inform them, at an appropriate age, of any potential "sins" they may encounter and to teach them that true friends do not encourage their friends to gravely sin. It is my job to instruct them on the nature of sin--its effects and consequences. I completely disagree that the probability of "sin exposure" necessitates "early sin education/experience".

Give me a break. God save us from ourselves.

Painting the canvas

I took a class on painting in college. The professor told us that sometimes we will have a hard time putting brush to canvas because it is so white. There might, at times, be a strong sense of "I don't want to mess it up." Her solution was to start any project by just painting the entire canvas whatever light color we wanted. Seeing an already painted canvas would be less, um, intimidating.

This post is me painting my canvas. Several people have said they wished I had a blog. I thought, "Seriously? Who would ever want to read what I would write?"

No matter. I'll just write what seems important at the time, hoping that God shows the way.

On seeing this post my friends (and relatives) will probably think, "What? She has time to paint?"

hahaha

I haven't painted anything since that class, though the large "final" painting I did in that class is hung prominently over our front door. I really enjoyed painting. I'll pick it up again in the future...when there aren't several little people thrilled at the prospect of getting their little hands full of gooey paint and personalizing our house and furniture. We do have one piece of furniture which has been artfully decorated (scribbled upon) with a Sharpie. We will keep it as is. It is one of our few pieces of "art by Gabe."

Who is Gabe? He is my fourth child. We had him for twenty seven months and loved every bit of it.

Yesterday was the second anniversary of my mother's death. I remember thinking several years ago that I would always want her around to share life with. I would briefly contemplate that the time would come when she would be very old and frail and not enjoy the kids as much. Then she called one day in late 2006 with the news of a diagnosis. Those thoughts came immediately to mind and I convinced myself that all could still be well. Less than two years later and after much surgery and treatment, she died at a relatively young age. She'll never have to get old.

I know that it is only her body that has died. I know that she is now far more alive than ever before and knows a joy we can't even fathom. That is our promise. Eye has not seen, nor ear heard, nor has it entered into the heart of man, what God has prepared for those that love Him.

I look around and see all that has entered into the heart of man. Mankind is brilliant, artistic, creative, and endlessly imaginative. God has made us so--in His image and likeness. We have come up with everything from Velcro to super duper crazy insane roller coasters to recliners, video cameras, Ripstiks, and sippy cups. Iron Chef shows that our culinary creativity sometimes crosses the line...fish ice cream?

Yet God promises that we still have not conceived what He has prepared for us. Oh, how I wish my mom (or son or dad or sister....) could just send me a little note telling me just a fraction of what it's like.

The darkest of our hours, the death of a loved one, is the most amazing and joyfully bright for the loved one. We are made for heaven.