Quick Takes, October Edition

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Wasp wars resume in the Reinhard house. I was thinking of doing a whole series of Quick Takes on wasps, and how they entertain me, but then I realized that my tales of woe just can’t compare to Jen’s scorpion stories. It’s not a contest, of course, but at least I can hold out hope that the weather will get cold and freeze their stinging little butts into oblivion (or at least hibernation). That, and my husband assures me that there are some measures he can take when he schedules a day off to do some homestead work. I trust him. (I have to. Otherwise I will slowly lose my mind.)

I’d be remiss, though, not to capture this story, which has had a couple of people laughing (whether at me or with me, I don’t care to clarify).

The other night, I was working late (as in after dinner but before bedtime) in my office. Though I try not to make a habit of this, there was stuff that needed done and we had been out of the house and away from the computer most of the day, blah blah blah.

I felt this little feeling inside my shirt, and I scratched. It didn’t go away, but kept tingling a bit.

As it turns out, I had A WASP IN MY SHIRT.

Yes, that’s right. A WASP WAS IN MY SHIRT.

OF COURSE I screamed. And danced around. And shook my shirt. Did I mention that I was screaming, a mere one room over from my children, who were happily engaged in some animated entertainment? Those two children were COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS to my shouts and cries and interesting near-obscenities. (I think there was something like “DIE YOU SCURVY DOG MEET YOUR MAKER I SHALL KILL ALL OF YOUR KIND” in there somewhere.)

(In my husband’s defense, he wasn’t home yet. He is innocent of Ignoring Wife’s Frantic Wasp-Related Screams.)

I got the wasp out of my shirt, sat back down at my chair, pulled myself up cozy to my laptop, Twittered (quite a few times), and then felt a strange tickling on the back of my neck. ANOTHER WASP? OR THE SAME ONE?

Does it matter? I finally fed its dead body (and those of its comrades who showed up shortly after) to the kittens and decided I was taking my laptop to the other room.

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Here’s something interesting in the movie world: There Be Dragons. It’s based on the life of Saint Josemaria Escriva, founder of Opus Dei, whose writings have touched me immensely.

Roland Joffe, the director who brought us the highly acclaimed and deeply spiritual film The Mission has returned to his roots with the epic movie There Be Dragons, a powerful story of war, tragedy, love and redemption. Featured in the New York Times, the $35 million Dragons is rated PG-13 and planned for release in theaters worldwide in Spring, 2011. Set during the turmoil of the Spanish Civil War (early 1900s), Dragons tells the story of two childhood friends who become separated during the political conflict to find themselves on opposite sides as war erupts. One chooses the path of peace and becomes a priest while the other chooses the life of a soldier driven by jealousy and revenge. Each will struggle to find the power of forgiveness over the forces that tore their lives and friendship apart.

The trailer is pretty powerful…but then, that’s what trailers are supposed to be, right? I’m as interested in it because it looks like the kind of professionally done film that Therese was a few years back. We went, in fact, two or three times to see Therese in the theater (which is saying something, because we generally avoid theaters altogether).

Marcel at Aggie Catholics had an interesting review too. Hmm. Makes me want a review copy, actually, and I’m veryVERY-V-E-R-Y slow to EVER request movies for review.

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My three-year-old daughter is exploring her inner self. Or that’s how I think of her constantly changing identity. Every day, she has a different imaginary friend AND she often has a new persona. Yesterday, for example, she was a flying pony named Wysteria. The day before, she was riding a blue horse for most of the afternoon. She’s also often a dog (usually a girl, though she doesn’t limit herself to gender), though I’ve spent some good time teaching her that PRETEND dogs do NOT eat REAL dog food (only PRETEND dog food). This point is a little easier now that the puppies have moved outside, though we do still have kittens in the house…she has had no interest in being a kitten…yet.

Anyone else have fun preschooler pretend stories? I love watching her imagination explode…and I don’t remember my older daughter (now five) being quite this expressive about pretending in this way.

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This week, I did something unprecedented. In fact, I think that I managed to shock my dear husband.

I deep cleaned the three major rooms of our downstairs. I couldn’t get into the office, because the cat litter’s in there, but I tackled the living room, playroom, and kitchen. For three nights this week, he came home to a new clean surprise.

Monday night, on my way home from our evening obligation, I saw his text: “Wow. I am impressed.” I tried to play it off like it was about the sloppy joes, but I knew that, though it was a good batch, it didn’t warrant that particular reaction.

Tuesday and Wednesday, he was equally impressed, and I was home to receive the praise first-hand.

Thursday, I didn’t clean.

No, I’m not nesting. Nesting, for me, involves building a nest-like area on the couch, complete with fuzzy blankets and a good read. This was long overdue cleaning that just needed done. I motivated myself by telling myself that, as much as I loathe and avoid cleaning, this was a gift to my husband, one that he would not expect to the scale and quality I was doing it.

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I just heard about a new DVD about Saint Giana Beretta Molla. She’s a special saint to me, especially right now, as I sit here 34 weeks pregnant.

St. Gianna Beretta Molla: A Modern Day Hero of Divine Love is a new DVD about a saint who lived in our own time. The DVD is a visual delight, featuring photos and home movies of St. Gianna, who lived from 1922 to 1962. One gets to see her getting married and playing with her children and living out her career as a doctor. Viewers see her laughing and smiling and loving life. This is a real woman. She is someone like us.

Here we get to know a woman like so many of us who struggled to balance work and family. She was highly intelligent, excelling in her studies. She also loved music and art and being in the mountains. She loved her family above all else, but saw her career as a physician as a calling from God. Not only did she run her own practice, she was an active volunteer and sought to bring medical care to those who needed it, especially mothers and children. She would tell other doctors that “when you have finished your earthly profession, if you have done this well, you will enjoy divine life ‘because I was sick and you healed me.’”

St. Gianna was raised in a Christ-centered family and sought to raise her children the same way. Her life was one of service and was deeply rooted in prayer. She attended daily Mass as often as possible and prayed her rosary daily. She was always ready to encourage others in their relationship with God. She was a woman who viewed life as a gift from God and trusted in the power of prayer. Totally pro-life, her ultimate sacrifice was to give birth to her last child, even though she was advised against it and knew it might result in her own death. After giving birth, she bravely bore her final suffering with grace and prayer. She died on April 28, 1962 at the age of 39. Beatified in 1994 and canonized in 2004, Pope John Paul II held St. Gianna up as a role model for mothers, physicians, and the pro-life cause.

St. Gianna Beretta Molla: A Modern Day Hero of Divine Love was produced by Catholic Action for Faith and Family which includes the St. Gianna Physician’s Guild. The mission of the Guild is to unite and encourage Catholic physicians and health care professionals, to promote and defend Catholic principles in a public way by word and example, and to inspire sanctification in their lives.

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New to the nightstand: (to borrow Julie’s phrase, and I see it’s on her nightstand too)
Full of Grace: Encountering Mary in Faith, Art, and Life
, by Judith Dupre

Somehow, I have a reputation with things Marian, so I chanced into this review copy. :) After I finished a rather bleh YA novel the other night, I dug right in, forgetting all about the other long-suffering review titles that have been waiting their turn patiently for months.

Because this book is beautiful. And, after only the first chapter, it’s pretty good. It appeals to my Catholic side, but also to my human side. But I’m only one chapter in. I’m sure I’ll be blogging about it as I journey through it, because it seems to just be that sort of book.

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So I realized, this week, that I need to get my Christmas gift act together. This involves a spreadsheet and budgeting and, horror of horrors, shopping. But with a baby due on December 4 and a long-standing goal of being done with my shopping before Advent (after last year’s success and peace of mind, I’m SOLD!), I’d better get cracking! I’m trying to think of it as a gift I give myself (and my family, who lives with me when I’m stressed), instead of as a huge project that needs tackled. Sort of like the cleaning. Punctuate these unsavory tasks with prayer and you have grace in action, right? :)

Go to Conversion Diary for the Quick Takes round-up, where Jen will delight you with her humor and inspire you with her insight (sometimes even in the same post).

Almost…

…time to wrap the presents (he just left with the kids to go “shopping for the dogs”)

…time to immerse myself some more in favorite movies and cuddly girls

…time to feel no guilt about my nose being in a book, and another book, and another book

…time to kneel at the manger, thankful and overwhelmed, again and again

…time to laugh and smile in the morning with paper piled and giggles around

…time to meet his eyes and and know that he’s a gift from God

…time to remember the aunt who won’t be with us this Christmas, but who is still with us, especially when we watch one of our favorite movies

…time to think of birthdays and birthday-inspired reflections

…time to wish you and yours a MERRY CHRISTMAS for all twelve days!  :)

Thankful for Mary

The Thankful Train is still chugging away in my neighborhood, in part because I was too sick on Thanksgiving — or on the day after — to cook.

I’m thankful, today, for the turkey that tasted delightful, along with all the sides served on my pretty green china, and for a day, quiet and full, in which to clean all the dishes and cupboards touched by what my mother-in-law calls “mouse dirt.”  (In the last 36 hours, my Nutcracker Prince has protected me from TEN of the little buggers, and my helpful MIL shared a stomach-wrenching statistic earlier today: where there’s one caught, there are ten in the nest.  *scream*)

I’m thankful for Advent, and I’m thankful for doing better at not hating Christmas.

I’m thankful for Mary.  Yes, I really am.  And you can hear all about it in this week’s (or, rather, last week‘s) Mary Moment.

I’m thankful for a few minutes — Sunday or no — to blog.

And, most of all, I’m thankful for this day six years ago, the Saturday before the first Sunday of Advent that year, when I walked down an aisle in a white dress, holding my dad’s arm and watching my strong, tall Prince Charming’s face, both of us worried about flower girls who hadn’t made it (turns out they were fine, just fine, though devastated at missing their spotlight).  (And I’m thankful for the post I wrote last year, which I just stumbled upon, started sniffling as I reread it, and think I will print out for him…)

For the Love of St. Nick

When my dad remarried in my high school years, our family started a tradition I’d never heard of:  putting our shoes out on the evening of December 5th, in anticipation of St. Nicholas’s feast day on the 6th.  As far as I know, my little brother and sister — now 12 and 15 — still do this.  My girls will put out shoes too (Daddy’s shoes, because they’re bigger).

What I love about this feast of St. Nicholas is that it transcends some of the boundaries between my non-Catholic family and me.  They’re curious and they respect my devotion to Mary (I often wonder if they read my columns while rolling their eyes in frustration), but it’s not something they’re familiar with.  It isn’t part of their faith tradition.

But St. Nicholas…St. Nicholas, a Catholic bishop with a love for children, brings us together at this time of year.  Even if we don’t talk about what was in the shoes, we know it’s something we’re all doing.

As I’ve learned more about St. Nicholas over the year, he’s come to be a sort of Mother Teresa to me.  She was the sort of person who was Catholic to the core, who lived her faith so beautifully that it wasn’t an obstacle to others, and St. Nicholas seems to reach out and touch people too, regardless of their faith.

Sometimes, he’s a jolly elf in a red suit, and I used to find that disgusting.  A Catholic bishop reduced to a cartoon?

But you know what?  I don’t think St. Nicholas really minds.

Just as I don’t mind acting perfectly ridiculous in front of an audience to get a baby or a stubborn preschooler to smile.  Just as men in my life don’t mind wearing pink ribbons and sparkly hats when it elicits delightful giggles from my girls.
for-the-love-of-st-nick1
We don’t forget the meaning of Christmas when we pay tribute to St. Nicholas (though, as with many things, we can go overboard, and that’s its own conversation); maybe we come to understand it better through the lens of a loving man who saw poverty and injustice and felt moved to change them.

Reading the review copy I received of For the Love of St. Nick, by Garasamo Maccagnone, inspired these thoughts and so many more.  Though there were parts of the book that I wasn’t so keen on, the story is quaint and I think, for many, it could be a gateway to understanding better the relationship we can have with our friends in heaven, the saints.

It’s a tale of two boys, their father, and a Christmas miracle, possible because of St. Nick.  It’s probably too old for preschoolers, but I’ll bet children in early grades would enjoy having it read aloud and possibly even be able to read it to themselves.

Rather than tell you too much about it (I hate spoiling a story in a review!), I encourage you to check it out for yourself.  It would be a great gift for some young person in your life to find in their stocking or perhaps even the shoe that waits, so hopefully, outside their bedroom door on December 5th.

Preparing for Advent

My column from this weekend’s parish bulletin:

Mary did you knowThough we have two weeks before Advent, I finally find myself preparing ahead of time for this season.  I haven’t always been good at that.  I often find myself, by about the second Sunday of Advent, wondering why I bother to try.  I’m buried by long Christmas gift lists and a weariness that takes the sparkle out of the preparation.

Maybe this will be the year that I start to like Christmas.  I’ve learned, since becoming Catholic, that the weeks before Christmas are NOT the Christmas season.  They are, instead, a time of penance and preparation for the joyous season, the Birth of our Savior.

How can we prepare for this?  I offer a few suggestions this week, some of which you might not be able to put into action.  I’m still sharing them, though, in the hopes that, like me, you can begin to think ahead for next year (or the year beyond).

First, do your shopping (or at least plan what you’re buying) before Advent begins.  As the master procrastinator and someone with a loathing for all shopping, I don’t suggest this lightly.  I know it’s not easy.  But I can’t wait to sit in the silence of Advent knowing that the large list of gifts is already purchased.

Second, plan a special observance during Advent.  Maybe you’re going to pray a special prayer during the season.  Maybe you’ll refrain from eating a favorite food.

Third, don’t forget to observe the special graces of the season by going to confession.  I always put off going to confession, but I always find myself so renewed when I finally do it.  Will you join me in the line to receive forgiveness straight from Jesus’ mouth?

Advent is not the same as Christmas.  That’s the beauty of it.  May you also discover the blessings of this season this year!

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