My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

Dear Strep Throat, 

You Suck. 

I hate you. 

You’re a stupid butt.

And you ruin plans. 

So ya,  

Kristin  

Today I saw a glimpse. 

A glimpse at his future. Suddenly my heart physically ached. The kind of ache that comes and settles, a lump in your throat you can’t quite swallow. At least not yet. 

It was happy. But it was sad too. Because looking at him I realized, he was never really mine. 

He was always His.

When you are Catholic, and have a lot of Catholic friends, your kids know about vocations. Throw in the fact that your Dad was going to be a priest, until he met your Mom who always had the convent as her plan B…you know vocations are an option. And then when your Dads best friend is a priest, you see beyond the collar- and see the person. You see that they are flawed and normal, that they have good days and bad days. It’s not romanticized in our house, but from the day they were born we have prayed for their vocation. We aren’t culturally Catholic or Christian…we live and breathe the word and will of Christ every day in the best way we can as sinners. We pray for that path and for Gods will and…

Whatever they are called to. 

So when he was four and told us, that he felt called to the priesthood, We didn’t really think much of it other than it was cool. But now it’s been seven years…

He has had small crushes. But has never wavered. He still prays about it every night.

And then today happened. 

I saw him as he was getting ready, and he looked like he was meant to be there. He looked completely and totally at peace. 

He was nervous this morning. He’s new at being an altar server and was afraid he’d mess up. But maybe subconsciously he knew- he knew I’d see, and realize what he has always known…

He was always His. He was never ever truly mine. 

Like a slide show- when I saw him- his entire life flashed in front of me.  

 His birth and being born with the call.

His absolute fascination with everything church related.

His reading the bible all the way through multiple times.

His asking to wait a year for first communion because he didn’t feel ready. Him saying(to this day)  his first communion was the best day of his life.

His fascination with the saints and religious life…his outstanding compassion.

His natural leadership…his total commitment to others…his unwavering faith. 

There are others things that have been totally telling to us, completely God ordained, but those aren’t God ordained to share. 

I feel like I should say that God may lead him in a different direction. People like to tell him that when he tells him what he longs for today…I just tell him as long as he is following God he will be where he is meant to be. Good men have changed their minds, and served Gods people just as well. He will follow Gods lead. We know that. 

But today, I know what I saw. 

I saw his face. His entire life is still in front of him, and already he knows…

That his faith exceeds most. 

That he is being called. 

That he will listen. 

That He is His.

It is beautiful, but still I had to catch my breath. Because he is not mine, not really. We have been entrusted to be his caregivers, we have loved him his whole life, and it is a gift to us. Every single day. 

He is already showing us the way. 

Towards Him.

He was never mine. 

He was always His. 

But He said to me, “My Grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 

That is why FOR Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians: 9-10 

Today I ran…even though I felt the weight of so many thoughts on my shoulders. I had noticed the last couple days it was much easier for me to focus on others gifts and spent much of the time focusing on all of my weaknesses. 

I woke up defeated. 

I read the news and felt more defeated. I spoke with friends whose lives and real are so very hard and painful. And I felt defeated for them. The past week I found myself falling back into daily insulting of myself. This super pointed criticism of myself that comes almost too naturally. It is defeating because I have come so far to find my joy. 

In the last year, if you knew me, you would see I have come so far…so today as I looked at the myself- before I even thought I grabbed my shoes, and before I knew it I was heading out. 

I felt the sun on my shoulders and I ran. It wasn’t fast. The pollen kicked my butt. I had to walk a couple times. But with each step I prayed and let go of stuff. The stuff that’s been filling my head and my heart. I didn’t stop until I was emptied out. 

When I came home, with in minutes I found this verse…

I wasn’t stronger. I am weak. 

But I am good. 

Under the night sky- His Grace is sufficient. 

(joyful mysteries: the writer today is anonymous. But I can tell you is a phenomenal human being. Giving, loving, and faithful. No matter what our plans, life sometimes takes us in directions we weren’t expecting- and that’s hard. But it’s also real. I’m so thankful she shared her real, right now. The real of the unknown- the real of shock- the real of what true love takes. And the kind of trust that can only be placed in God. Thank you so much friend for sharing your real.) 

I am dragging. Physically and emotionally drained, I unlock my door for the umpteenth time in 2 days. We’ve been going back and forth to and from the hospital.

My baby lunges for the floor the moment we cross the threshold. She has been cooped up in my arms or in her stroller or in her little carrier most of the past two days. She is restless, cranky, and confused. Her dad, who we just saw, didn’t come home with us again.

As my child beelines for anything she’s not supposed to touch, I let the pets out, feed them, try to think about dinner. How dinner is going to be different now. Maybe. And I get a little angry again. And then I feel guilty for being angry. And then I cry.

Yesterday, my husband had a painful bump on his back and called the doctor. He got an appointment before work, and headed out the door. “See you tonight,” we’d said. Baby and I went about our day. But then I got a text from him saying he had to have emergency surgery. It was a cyst and it had to be removed.

We dropped everything and went to meet him at the hospital, where things progressed quickly. Before we knew it, we were sitting in pre-op with a nurse going over his health history. It’s not pretty. He has more than a few health issues, which, individually don’t seem too extreme, but it’s like adding to a Jenga tower – when you look at the whole stack, suddenly you realize you have a pretty complicated person on your hands.

They did a blood draw and ran some tests pre-op to be better informed. He had the operation, and it went well. The surgeon called me and said it went well, but he’s keeping my husband overnight to run more blood tests. His blood sugar was high.

When I arrived this morning, the white board by his bed said “Diabetic diet.” He had a packet on his bed tray that read “Diabetic nutrition.” No one called me. No one gave me any warning. My husband was diagnosed with diabetes and I found out by putting the pieces together myself.

I was terrified. I imagined spending my daughter’s elementary and teenage years in the hospital as her father lost a limb or his eyesight. I imagined losing my husband before we were even old enough to retire. I imagined financial ruin due to multiple hospital bills. Panic is an appropriate word.

Then I was angry. Angry that he didn’t take care of himself better when I work very hard to be disciplined and educated about my own self care. Angry because I felt that he was blaming genetics for the reason why this is happening. Angry that there was nothing I could do to take it away, to make it stop.

And then guilt. How could I be angry with him? I enjoyed a practically perfect childhood while he quite literally survived long enough to become an adult, only to emerge ill-equipped for the life he found himself carrying out. How could I expect him to have amassed the same information that I did about health and fitness? He doesn’t expect me to understand all his areas of interest to the extent that he does. And still, he is much gentler with me than I am with him, in all things, generally.

Despite my initial shock at his diagnosis, it turns out that by making some changes and sticking with them, we will be able to manage his blood sugars and he will most likely not have to take medication once we get things under control.

I wipe my tears and scoop up the baby, who is inches away from the dog’s water dish. I plop her down into her playpen so I can make dinner. I practice, thinking of the carb-to-protein ratio that we will need to bear in mind. When I said “In sickness and in health,” I meant it. Let’s do this. I’ll do what I can to help him when he arrives home.

We sit down to dinner and I watch my little baby pick through her food, choosing what she will eat and when. She happily, awkwardly, shoves the food into her mouth with her fingers. She looks up at me and grins. It is the same grin her father gives me when he is perfectly happy.

Her dad will be OK. We are a team; that is something we do really well. Tonight she and I on our own together, and I give her extra hugs and kisses, and we do some special and fun things just the two of us. She goes to bed quickly, quietly, and easily, slipping into a heavy sleep after a long day.

“In sickness and in health.” When I think of that vow, I think of another we said at our daughter’s baptism as we were asked many questions about supporting her in her life in Christ: “I will, with God’s help.” After putting her to bed, I prayed extra hard for God’s help. We will get through this, together.

We will, with God’s help.

“You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies. You anoint my head with oil. My cup overflows.” Psalms  23:5 

Yesterday in Charleston SC evil entered a prayer group. Evil took the lives of 9 people, in the name of prejudice. In the name of hatred. Evil entered in the body of a Man, who stole lives with his hatred and like all cowards ran away. I have many words I have thought today as I thought of each person taken and stolen by this evil coward, but I do not want to focus on him…I want to honor them. 

I am so angry. 

I am heartsick beyond words. 

I detest that this sort of evil still exists. That this place of absolute wretched ignorance and  wretched ugliness still comes and rests. 

I prayed today and ached today, because I told God I do not forgive evil- because these acts were of the devil and I believe this person was of the devil. I saw pictures and did not see a human but saw the eyes of hell. And it terrified me. 

And then I plead to God for the families, for our nation, for all of the people watching with their hearts sunken.

And I thought of my table. 

I have a large table. 

It seats nine. 

For years we used the table of my childhood. It had been through different houses. So many babies. It survived our house fire in our first home. 

But recently some friends, who are missionaries gifted us their table. We had always loved it. Admired it. I wanted more children, but since God hasn’t gifted us that, I feel I’ve been gifted an open table…to welcome my children’s friends. To welcome people to come and join in…

To be safe. 

To feel cared for. 

To be loved.

I’ve often thought about the Lord’s table as well. As Catholics we take the table seriously. The entire culmination of the divinity of our Jesus happens at the Lord’s table. We experience it every Sunday at Mass. And we believe. 

I know that the Lord’s table in Heaven is bigger than this world can comprehend…that there is a place for everyone- because God’s love is vast and big. We sit at a table where He gives us an eternity of Joy. Our souls are welcome at his table. 

Yesterday nine more spots were filled. In heaven. 

I am flawed. I am a sinner. Because today as I thought about the Lords table I thought of those who are not welcome at mine…

If you do not like someone because they are different from you. Because of the shade of skin God gave them. Because God gave us all our external bodies, and shades, and differences and we are the body of Christ. They are welcome at His table. If you bring this sort of hatred, you have NO place at my table.

If you dislike someone because of their sexual orientation. Because of who they love. Because you don’t have any idea of the cross they carry not being able to be who they are. And judged when they find love. Last time I checked only God is God, and he decides what love is. If you bring this sort of hatred, you have NO place at my table.

If you use the word retard- and use it with a casual cruelty or as a word you just pass around. If you make fun of people who are different than you- you have NO place at my table. 

If you call my husband names because of his job, or promote hate towards his profession because of a flawed media- and some flawed individuals…you have NO place at my table. 

People are born the way God made them. And they are made in His sight. But being Evil and taking Evil on is a choice they make. They are choosing Hatred over Love. 

My God is Love. And He makes people with Love and intention. 

My God. My Jesus…my Jesus sat with people of all shades and loved. 

My Jesus, he LOVES us all. There is no division of His love…

And while hate enters into this world, and takes and steals bodies…it cannot steal souls. 

A very important conversation was started again yesterday…and it’s a real, important conversation. But let me be clear- evil enter a prayer group yesterday. And there is real evil in this world. The kind of evil that burns like the fires of hell. But evil DID NOT win. 

Evil didn’t win. 

Because they died martyrs- because they died for their faith and because of how God made them. And they are beautiful souls. 

They sit at the table with my Jesus. For eternity.  

Tonight I ask you to join me in prayer for the families of Rev. Clementa Pinckney, Rev. Sharonda Singleton, Dr. Daniel L. Simmons, Ethel Lee Lance, Cynthia Hurd,  Myra Thompson, Tywanza Sanders, and Rev. DePayne Middleton-Doctor. For the community of Charleston SC, and for our Country. 

God Almighty- bring peace and have mercy on us all. 

Tonight the Holy Spirit worked in my writing and my anger dissipated a bit- but my heart remains so very sad. But when it comes to tables- the only one I will ever want to sit at is Jesus’s…His is Love. And Evil shrinks with the Power of Great Love. 

His table is Vast…I want a seat there. 

To God be the glory.  

Summer. 

  “I love hearing the Sprinkler from my Deck.” 

This is…

What you love about summer! I love all your responses…

Turning off the Alarm.

Days with Kids. 

Playing in the Water; pool, beach sprinklers. And cold drinks. 

 “My view today, trying to focus on what I have, instead of what I don’t.”  

Quiet time in the early morning or evening, out on the deck. 

Free Evenings. 

Dinner by the Pool. Fires by the beach. 

 “Extra time with these guys.” 

Cutting flowers from the yard.

The absence of homework. 

Blueberries. 

Sunshine!!! Vitamin D. 

 “Taking the kids out to the water with our boat.” 

Gardening. 

Camping. 

Swimming. 

Unscheduled days with long relaxing easy fun. 

 “Road Trippin’ with my awesome crew.”  
Ah…Summer. 

  
Tonight as I set on my deck I decided I won’t add anything except…I am grateful for this season. I’m grateful for right now. 

It’s not perfect. But it’s here. 

And I’m grateful for the gift to be right here. 

Every day is a gift. 

Every season is a gift. 

❤️ this season. I love summer. 

Ps. Dana and I didn’t plan on our sandals summer picture in our back yards…but I thought it added a little something extra. 

Our nighttime prayer…you may already do a version of it. But tonight as I pray this over my kids- I am also praying it for you, and your families. Wherever you are at…wherever your mind and heart rest- may you find hope and good rest. 

And so much love. 

May the Lord God Bless you and keep you.

May He make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you.

May He look upon you with kindness and give you His peace. 

And may the Peace of our Lord Jesus Christ guard over your Heart, your Mind, your Soul, and your Strength all the days of your life. 

In Jesus Name, Amen  

Good night friends. ❤️

  
“They shall be mine,” says the Lord of Hosts. “On the day that I make them my jewels.” Malachi 3:17

It’s not often I weep before I finish the title. But today I did. 

It’s not often that my joy mixes with relief, and a longing to see someone so close to me that I weep. But I just did.

She. 

She is.

She has. 

She did. 

And she keeps going. 

She’s still here. 

I can’t even begin to tell you the real we saw together. The rawness. How together, we saw the darkest parts of life. How we knelt next to each other in grief. How we rocked back and forth in tears, how I wept in her long hair. How she leaned into me in despair.

I can’t even begin to tell you how close we are. 

What I saw. 

Where she was. 

She’s still here. 

I can’t even begin to share how we just knew when the other needed a hug. How we sat and didn’t needed words to fill up a space. How we could sit anywhere and laugh, and how her smile brightens up the whole room. How hearing her voice or reading a text from her makes my whole day. 

I can’t even begin to tell you how my entire life made sense after she and my other sister was born. 

I was only 15.

But I saw her the first time. 

And I knew. 

Her entire life, I have loved her. I have cherished everything about her. I held her hand and read to her. I slept at the end of their bed when they were scared, in the room with Sesame Street on the walls. When I was scared I held their hands too. I didn’t like spending the night places in high school because I missed her. I missed them. 

They were my first dose of crazy unconditional love. 

She is that way with my daughter, her goddaughter. 

When she moved away, I cried for days. Things were so hard, but I couldn’t imagine her not here. None of us could. She is imprinted in our hearts- solidly and completely. She always has a place with us, right here. I was broken, but I knew what she needed. And it wasn’t here. We all knew that, but it took a long time to figure it out.

She knows how much I love her. 

I have told her that every day of her life. 

She. 

This word is loaded with emotion.

 And it should be…She is so many things. Resilient. Strong. Grace filled. Purposed. Sincere. Considerate. Driven. Thoughtful. Grateful. Beautiful. Hilarious. Deserving. Beloved. Fighter. Survivor. 

But I will only use one today. 

Worthy.

She is worthy. 

She has always been worthy, but now she knows it. 

She knows her worth. 

And it is more precious because she has fought for her worth. In a world full of guidelines and rules for perfection, she has stepped past the hallways and doors. She has walked through the brightly colored tape…and found her worth. 

She is WORTHY! 

She is my sister. And I am…so proud of her. 

God kept her here, because her worth is a world changer. 

And she believes Him. 

And so do I. 

She. Is. Worthy. 

“When I stand before God at the end of my life, I would hope that I would not have a single bit of talent left, and could say, “I used everything you gave me.” Erma Bombeck 

Another school year. Done. A monumental year with my youngest in kindergarten- joining two of her brothers. 

Next year I will have two in Middle School. And two in Elementary school. 

But these are just details…because what is most important is what happened this year that isn’t a test result, or a standard but what happened that really counts. 

She…loves school. She loves everything about the routine- the back pack, the structure. She loves being able to tell me every single detail after school. Her face beams with light as she tells me about all the new things she has learned, all the funny things that happened. She cries when she tells me about mean things people say. Her teachers tell me that other girls like to tell her what to do, that they won’t let her play with others. They encourage her to play with new friends, but she doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. She loves her friends, even when they make her cry. We tell her the same thing at home. We role play how to speak. By the end of the year, it’s better, but we continue to work on it. She makes new friends. Her teachers know how much she loves school. She sings all day, and is known for her joy. But reading still hasn’t  clicked. I work with her everyday and I begin to worry- will she struggle like I did? The teachers say just stick with it, it will click. I start to wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Well meaning people that annoy me say that I probably didn’t work with her as much because she’s the youngest, but that’s not true. I look at her, her bright beautiful amazing face, and I worry that I have failed her. I have given her my struggles and passed them on. I don’t want her to dislike school- I want her face to shine like it does right now- believing that no matter what She is Worthy. I want everyone to know how special she is- how she is unlike any person I’ve ever met…she just needs more time for everything else to catch up with her world. It will click. We’ll just keep working. 

He…the little one with the curly hair- learned to speak up this year. To use his voice. His extreme shyness has been something that has just been a part of him, but this year he began to broaden his circle of trust and became friends with new people. He shared a dance with his class. He actually let himself be the center of attention. He was the first to volunteer to recite his Abraham Lincoln in front of the other classes. This is Huge. And on the baseball field…his face would light up as he encouraged the people on his team. People would laugh as they heard Micah come alive. We see that at home, but he let others see his radiant face and personality. It’s electric. 

He…spent his final year in elementary school realizing a lot about himself. One that doesn’t do well with transition, became accustomed to it. He made new friends, he stayed faithful to the old ones. But over the year he continued to inspire by being the natural leader he is. But that age is a tough one- his self confidence wavered from time to time- and it was hard to watch. We’ve had a lot of tears, and a lot of nights up praying together. He stood up for people, and sometimes he stood apart. I think he’s the kind of person who will change the world. I think he’s ready for middle school…but I’m not ready. Not yet. 

And the teenager…his year was an adventure. It was a school year that came at the cusp as his mind, body, and spirit is changing rapidly. School was hard, and he felt discouraged a lot of the time. He isn’t one to speak up and ask for help and that ended up being a huge thing. It was the first year he wasn’t on the honor roll. At the end of the school year, he won a work ethic award- he called it “I’m crap at taking tests, but I sure worked hard” award. He lost friends, and he saw the ugly side of people. And also became closer to his good friends.  He felt emotions he’d never felt before–jealousy, heartache, and some blues. There were days where he just wanted to be with us, and days where he was worlds away. Where he just wanted distance. But we stayed right there. He would play music late at night, and come and talk to us and the flood gates would open. We would talk, really talk. I saw an articulate beautiful young man emerging, the most loyal person I know. But growing up is hard. Period. 

Life. 

Life cannot be judged by a standard or a letter grade. Because things are not always so cut and dry.  And if we base all our expectations on that, we are not giving our kids a chance to shine where it counts. This year my kids had great teachers(for the most part) who considered who they were every single day…who saw them. Who saw them changing and saw them grow. But also who were willing to see the ways they struggled and not place them in a category of pass or fail. 

I am thankful for the teachers…

Who told my daughter she couldn’t bring accessories that dangled, but that her fanciness was always welcomed.  Who believed in her everyday.

Who encouraged my son with a quiet constant assertiveness that he can be brave and that his voice matters to a classroom. Who believed in him everyday. 

Who let my son be himself. Who let him bring popcicles to the incoming fifth graders to encourage them to be the role models for the school. Who believed in him every day. 

Who met my son after school and helped him when he missed a week of school from the stomach flu. Who let him TA when he hurt himself and couldn’t do PE and allowed him to play music. Who listened to my concerns, his worries, and helped us see that a letter grade does not determine the value of a person. Who believed in him everyday.

And I learned a lot. And even writing this was hard. Because I have spent many years being afraid that people will think less of me as a parent if my kids aren’t incredibly successful. But this year, my heart changed as well. I want to raise good people, who live faithful faith led lives. Success has changed in my eyes. And I can’t worry that the struggles I had will pass on over to my kids- they will have their own struggles. And I will be there- helping when they need me- comforting when they let me- and never ever giving up on them. I will always believe in them…they are what’s important. 

Not an award. Not an accolade- but knowing that their value is who they are as a whole person. And in Christ. 

I see my children every single day, and every single day they amaze me. 

They are the best accomplishment we ever did. They are so much better than I ever imagined. 

The best lessons I’ve ever learned, are those whose laughter I’ve heard, tears I’ve wiped, and hearts I’ve loved every single day of their lives.