Happy Birthday Frances Elena!

Happy Birthday Frances Elena!

My daughter is turning 27 today. I am happy and stunned all at the same time.

 

Trust me when I say it feels like just yesterday that she was born. My mind is racing through her whole life as if someone pressed the "picture go fast" button on the remote.

 

27 years ago she was born on Easter weekend. That memory of new life and Easter are forever entwined in my thoughts. It felt like a miracle. Life truly is a miracle.

 

We'll be celebrating together on Sunday but her name came up as I did my errands. I stopped at the optician and as we were talking about computer glasses that make it easier to focus without moving your neck up and down he mentioned he coaches wrestling. Turns out he coaches at Frances' former club!

 

That led to a long discussion about wrestling, coaches, matches, "making weight", and Nationals. I could tell he was passionate about the sport. He told me about some of the young people he coaches and how the sport builds character. He said they develop an inner strength that serves them in any situation in the future. He said they know they can handle anything and they learn what is really important in life. He firmly believes it equips them to face anything and especially life's tragedies.

 

I totally agreed. Frances went from being afraid to take gym class in grade 9 to winning a gold medal in grade 12. And it was all her. She found the motivation. I just drove her to practice. She went to Nationals in Saskatoon. No mommy to hold your hand there.

 

It made me realize as a mom there's only so much you can do. Then you have to let go and let them learn life's lessons.

 

It's the way to build character. And you've got it my sweet Bubs!

 

Happy Birthday! Way to make a mom proud.

Getting Noticed

My life has fallen into a predictable routine. And apparently the shopkeepers I frequent have noticed too.  I visited the dollar store one Saturday and was greeted with:

 

Has it been a week since you were here? You're early today; you're usually here later.

 

He said a few other things which I couldn't understand through his Asian accent but I'm sure they were complimentary since he was smiling. I certainly got the impression I am a valued customer.

 

After the dollar store I usually go on to the grocery store, sometimes stopping at the pharmacy. On different occasions I've had the pharmacist check the drawer for my Rx pick up even before I get to the counter and he'll say that he saw me coming. Saturday the technician started the customary routine of confirming the name but she stopped and said "oh I already know who you are!"

 

*****

 

My friend Joan told me about her last visit to The Symphony. It was close to the end of intermission and she was sure she would make it to the washroom and back before they started again. They have had the same front row seats for a decade.

 

Well, she didn't make it back in time so she waited until the first piece was finished and slid into her seat as nonchalantly as she could. The cellist leaned forward from the stage and said:

 

Where were you?

 

She doesn't know him personally and has never spoken with him before. But she figures he has seen them sitting in that same spot for a decade. We had a great laugh over getting noticed at the symphony. Joan has the best stories.

 

Being noticed is better than feeling invisible.

 

*****

 

A while back I stayed to pray after mass. A woman came up to me, introduced herself and asked me if my daughter was Frances. She told me that years ago she had been in a youth group meeting with Frances and they were asked to say who they admired most. Frances said she most admired her mother. The woman told me it had made such an impression on her and she hoped that one day her children would say the same thing about her.

 

*****

Last Sunday, my very good friend Joan called to tell me her very good friend had passed away unexpectedly the day before. I could hear the pain in Joan's voice as she described losing her friend. Helen had done everything right: she ate healthy, was fit and even taught aerobics classes yet she had been recently diagnosed with cancer and had just started chemo. The prognosis was good. She died of a suddenly of a heart attack. She was 56.  Joan had been planning to spend some time with Helen to keep her company as she recovered from the chemo. She was "saving her stories" to tell Helen. Like I said, Joan has the best stories.

 

There was a bit of goodhearted joking: it was said that Helen would really be babysitting Joan and may just close her eyes and pretend she was sleeping to avoid those stories. We both laughed. I had met Helen a few times and was really taken with her kindness. Joan said her life was better for having known Helen.

 

She had called Helen in those last few days just to see how she was doing. Joan said how important it is to act on the feelings we have to console and connect with someone. There are no wrong words of consolation.

 

The words we use to notice someone with kindness are always the right words.

 

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.

~~ Psalm 23:6

Reading: Sunday, April 3

 

Joyful Noise

A voice cries out in the wilderness!

 

If someone called you and started the conversation with that phrase, how would you answer? My response:

 

Prepare ye the way of the Lord!

 

It was like the password of a secret club: The Choir Club.

 

Oh my dear friend Carol. You remind me of all the years I sang in church choirs. I never want to lose those words learned through song. There are so many great memories with such good people.

 

I remember the long practices of preparation for holidays. Sometimes the music was daunting.  But working together on the holiday music is a goal that brings special grace. I felt part of the celebration in a unique way.  

 

Now as I sit in the pew alone I remember fondly of being in the choir surrounded by the sound of song and generous people. Knowing how much time that is given I am very grateful for the music that adds so much to the mass.

 

The ministry of music is meaningful. It gives Glory to God and blesses all who hear it along with those who serve in it. We may not thank you enough but know that we are always grateful for your gifts.

 

I've been part of some remarkable choirs and it goes way beyond what you see or hear at mass. It's about friendship, faith and connection. Plus a few parties! A just reward or two keeps the choir happy. Even if it humble pop and chips. (That's for my buddy Choir Barb aka Malibu Barb. I loved those pop and chips by the way.)

 

Not long ago we were going through the drive thru at McDonalds. There at the window was a former choir cohort who I hadn't seen for over 12 years. It brought back a flood of good memories. We got caught up on the life that had passed in 3 minutes! I let the challenges go over the years. You can't have a group of people together and not have challenges.

 

Sometimes I find myself singing those songs and it makes me smile. I can't sing in the choir now for various reasons. But I will always remember being part of the music ministry. It changed me forever for the good.

 

O come, let us sing to the LORD; let us make a joyful noise to the rock of our salvation! Let us come into his presence with thanksgiving; let us make a joyful noise to him with songs of praise!

 

~~Psalm 95 1-2

Mass Reading Sunday March 27, 2011

Friends and Facebook

I finally went on Facebook. And then I gave it up for Lent. I was enjoying it just a little too much: hours and hours too much.

 

It reminds me of when I first discovered blogs. I spent a great deal of time reading archives and clicking on links. I will admit to a weakness for reading about real people. I care less about celebrities and personalities (unless it's my favourite accapella group but they are so accessible and friendly that they don't seem like the typical celebrities).

 

What I love about Facebook (FB) is being connected with friends and family. I love seeing their pictures and knowing what they're doing. I love being able to send a quick note (posting on their wall) and knowing that they will read it. I wish them Happy Birthday. I know when they are travelling.

 

What I don't love is that I couldn't stop compulsively checking FB. And I also added Twitter. Another new media addiction! Thank God for Lent. When I posted on FB that I was giving it up for Lent I had a few funny comments and no one agreed to join me.*sound of crickets*

 

I heard a comedian say we are going to develop into a hunched over species with enormous thumbs. Too much texting! I won't even talk about Family Feud on FB. Yes I said it. It's a guilty pleasure.

 

Anyway, if I can keep it all under control and in balance it's a good thing. Maybe it's just like anything. All things in moderation, right?

 

It made me wonder and ponder friendship. What is real friendship in today's world? If you are my friend on FB are you my friend in the "real" world? I won't tell you about my real world friends because it will sound like I'm bragging. I have some really special and amazing friends. But I know not everyone has that joy. I'm not sure why I am so rich in friendship. I will just be grateful for each and every one.  

 

I sent this to one of my friends. I included one word: You.

 

A faithful friend is a sturdy shelter: he that has found one has found a treasure.

There is nothing so precious as a faithful friend, and no scales can measure his excellence.

A faithful friend is an elixir of life; and those who fear the Lord will find him.

 

~~ Sirach 6: 14-16 Daily Mass Reading Feb 25, 2011

Grief Junkie?

 

The sorrow for the dead is the only sorrow from which we refuse to be divorced. Every other wound we seek to heal - every other affliction to forget: but this wound we consider it a duty to keep open - this affliction we cherish and brood over in solitude.
Washington Irving

 

 

I heard the term "grief junkie" on the radio and a somewhat guilty sense of unease overtook me. It was in reference to certain genres of books that appealed to a certain type of reader: grief junkies. I don't even remember the titles now. My mind started racing and remembering the blog posts I've written about deceased loved ones. I chose to write about them because I do indeed cherish their memory and I don't want to forget them.

I also think that we can learn from the lives of loved ones and their stories should be told. Some stories can be told while we are alive but death presents a unique perspective. I want to record these stories for the future of my family. Even though I believe that completely, I still felt guilty. And I wondered if I was a grief junkie.

 

I was a very sensitive child who cried easily. My mother continually reminded me that I needed to "toughen up". She meant well. I know that for sure. Being tough was her way of coping with life. She had endured early loss and all that came with being part of the generation that survived The Depression and WWll. No doubt about it, they were made of tough stuff.

 

I lost my father when I was 19. I had grandparents who passed away before I was born. My husband died when I was 37 and my mother 9 months later. I lost 2 pregnancies, one at 20 weeks. Add to that the loss of more grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. And I remember with bitter sweetness my daughter's 6 year old playmate who passed away during the 2^nd week of summer vacation. We will never forget her. They were people who were part of our life and we loved them.

 

If I had started writing earlier I might have documented their lives better. But I didn't. So I'm starting now. Their lives have transformed mine. The words that tell their stories will live forever in my heart. I am happy to cry tears over the love I had knowing the love doesn't die. And I am grateful.

 

There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition, and of unspeakable love.
Washington Irving

 

For previous posts on grief click here.

 

Grief Junkies are welcome.

From Grumpy to Kaboom to Peace

Monday to Wednesday...Grumpy
Thursday...Kaboom
Friday...peace

Today as I shopped I saw a man who looked like he was out of control angry about the lack of shopping carts. Angry, bordering on cardiac arrest. So he started gathering up carts. Then he started yelling about people returning their carts. Then he looked me in the face and started asking if I was going to return my cart. My cart was full. I was leaning on it 'cuz by now my knees were sore. And I was waiting in the line. And it would be at least another 10 minutes till returned to my car and could sit down.
I just stared him in the face. I really couldn't understand what he was asking me. My cart was full. I was using it to hold me up. I still needed it.

He asked me again if I was going to return my cart. Louder. And he asked me if I was stupid.
I calmly looked at him and said I still needed my cart. Then he told me something I was buying was cheaper in Detroit and said "What...are you stupid??" And yes sometimes I am stupid. I said it calmly. I felt no reaction. This is HUGE for me.


I saw in him, what I was on Thursday. Something had bothered me all week, but instead of addressing it on Monday, I was just grumpy and angry all week until I couldn't stand it one more minute and on Thursday... kaboom all over a friend. Thankfully I didn't call her stupid.

Hallelujah and Humble Clothes

 

Sometimes I'm surprised by what makes me cry.

A while back it was a song and a seven year old.

 

Last year, Amy Grant released a new album for the first time in years. She looks just as beautiful as ever and seems not to have aged a day. (That's not what made me cry…much.) I came home from work, found the video, the words and wept.

Here's a video and here's the words.

 

Better Than a Hallelujah.

 

God loves a lullaby
In a mothers tears in the dead of night
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.
God loves a drunkards cry,
The soldiers plea not to let him die
Better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

The woman holding on for life,
The dying man giving up the fight
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes
The tears of shame for what's been done,
The silence when the words won't come
Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears our melodies.
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

Better than a church bell ringing,
Better than a choir singing out, singing out.

We pour out our miseries
God just hears a melody
Beautiful the mess we are
The honest cries of breaking hearts
Are better than a Hallelujah

 

First Communions don't usually make cry. I usually just beam with joy. And I'll admit to enjoying the fashion show: girls that look like little princesses in their shimmering dresses and boys that look like little men in their tiny suits and ties.

At this mass I was sitting at the very back so I couldn't really see the boy sitting in the front row with his family waiting to make his very first communion. I couldn't see him until he walked by me in preparation for processing with the gifts. His parents were right behind him.

He was wearing a blue shirt, untucked. Why did the sight of that blue shirt instantly bring a tear to my eye? He was earnest and eager as he walked up the aisle to deliver the gifts.

This boy and his parents too, were wearing modest, simple clothes. And I'm not sure why, but I really think they were their very best clothes. And that thought moved me more than any little princess dress or snazzy suit I had ever seen at any other first communion.

What happens at The Bakery....

I love getting phone calls from The Bakery. The message goes like this… "This is Barb from The Bakery. Where are you??" I smile.

Turns out there was gluten free lasagna waiting for me. Bakery Barb is a gifted gluten free lasagna maker.

I feel like a bakery V.I.P. Or Norm from Cheers. Or both. I step inside the warm glow of baked goodness and hear my name called out loudly.

The Bakery is different every time yet seems to always stay the same. I really like those bakery people and I especially like catching up on all the goings on.

Mr. Lawrence celebrated his 94^th birthday with a gift of single malt scotch. (This is my favourite way to celebrate.) Maureen is home and won't be travelling for a while. Her brother Martin has gone back to Toronto. Barbara is going to see a movie tonight with husband Ernest. Francois went to a B.B. King concert last night. Margaret and Serge are on their way to mass. Bakery Barb saw the movie The King's Speech and raved. Doug is going out for a drink tonight to a west end bar. I got a referral to a great chiropractor.

All caught up?

I would love to write a book about the bakery but I think it operates under the same credo as Las Vegas: what happens at The Bakery stays at The Bakery.

What I want you to know is that I really hope you have a "bakery" in your life. A place where you are greeted by name, are fed the food of comfort, encouraged to sit, chat, share and care with people who listen.

Everyone needs a bakery in their life.

iLove

iLove.

 

I won an iPad. Please don't hate me.

 

But believe me when I say it is amazing. On this remarkable thing called an iPad I was watching the New Year's Eve party (fireworks and all) from Nathan Philips Square.

 

It seems magical.  So thin….so light….I keep looking for the Wizard.

 

Pay no attention to the man behind the green curtain!

 

 

I find myself staring at it in awe. And I remember when one of my cousins came to Canada from a village in Greece. She saw a TV for the first time and tried to reach behind it to get the Barbie in the commercial.

 

Maybe my iLove is so strong because I'm from the proverbial village; the technology village. I have little experience with gadgets. I don't jump on the techno bandwagon with every new gizmo. I don't have a flat screen TV or an iPod. I don't have a laptop and my only experience with "Apple" involves keeping the doctor away. And pie.

 

I've been told that it's one of Oprah's favourite things. Apparently she said that even though you shouldn't love things, she loves this thing.

 

I tell you….it's iLove.

 

I know I'm just getting started but this is what I've done so far on this little tablet that is about half the size of a legal pad…

 

I have an instant library of about a dozen books. Some are classics downloaded for free. Just the whisper of a touch turns the page…. I downloaded the Kindle app for free from Amazon and books appear in seconds. SECONDS!!! I'm reading again for fun!!

 

Nightstand app: woke up to the sound of Reveille. Complete with weather forecast.

 

I watched all the latest Youtube videos of my favourite a cappella group Straight No Chaser. I'll be doing a post all about them soon. I have front row seats for their Toronto concert. I had front row seats for their Windsor concert. Fans are called Chasers. I am a Chaser.

 

Filled the photo album with my fav pics from Las Vegas.

 

Added some CBC podcasts like The Word of the Week from C'est La Vie.

 

And I can't neglect my spiritual inspiration: EWTN podcasts, the Daily Mass Readings and The Rosary.

 

Watched City TV! My fav local Toronto shows: Breakfast Television and City Line.

 

I play Scrabble. It has all sorts of easy to play advantages and it keeps score automatically. There's a built in dictionary with a list of 2 letter words. (If I wasn't already maxed on exclamation marks I would be using about 10 of them right now.)

 

Oh there's more but these are just a few of my favourite things.

 

So now you know all my guilty pleasures: I'm a book reading, scrabble playing, CBC listening, podcast downloader, Chaser, former Torontonian, Rosary saying nerd.

 

i'm in iLove.

 

I have named the object of my affection The Mighty and Powerful Oz.

 

Oz for short.

 

Pay no attention to the man behind the green curtain.