eternal rest grant unto him, O Lord...

Taking a break from all things light-hearted to ask for prayers for the repose of the soul of a good friend of our family. He passed away peacefully on Saturday night/Sunday morning and is already sorely missed.

I'm having a hard time processing the loss of someone I know, as it's never happened to me before, aside from our miscarriage a few years back (which is admittedly different, especially with how early, early we were in our pregnancy.). I wrote this letter to help me out just a little bit.



I didn't know you well, Brian, but I consider you a brother. Not because I knew you well, but because you were a constant. Just as I don't know my brothers-in-law well, but I always know they'll be there, so I did with you. I knew you'd be there to celebrate joys, suffer alongside in stress and sorry, and pray in your very humble, beautifully simple way for us, and of course show up to hang out on Friday and Saturday nights. Your quiet company was always a constant and always welcome and I will miss it sorely. You were family.

I saw you blossom over the years, though, and never saw more joy and peace in you than I did just before and after your coming Home to Holy Mother Church. 

My favorite memory of you is simply a montage of little scenes of you spending time with my precious little girls. About a year ago, you took Ellie's little chubby hand and let her lead you all over a farm yard and listened to her as she told you stories and took you on adventures. Any other adult would have given up after five minutes, but you just kept on going. And when I told Ellie it was time to let Uncle Brian sit down, you looked at me, blinked and said, "Why? We're going on adventures. Leave us alone." You loved that little girl and she loves you. Both our girls do. All children do, Brian. You were like Our Lord in so many ways, but in one of the ways that strikes me the most is that children flocked to you. Your joy and servanthood was undeniable, especially by the most loving in our community.

I need to tell you that when I told the girls of your passing, that Ellie curled up into my body and sobbed that she missed Uncle Brian and that you said you would swing with her when you finished mowing the lawn. I'm sorry you and she never got that chance. You will always have someone praying for you, as long as those little girls are alive. When you make it to Heaven, please remember them back.

My other favorite memory of you is at the a going away party, when I told you that I didn't end up making cheesy broccoli rice. You looked at me and asked why not. I said that it was hot and no one would eat it probably. And you picked up your dish and said that you had made green bean casserole and you didn't care if it was hot. Then we had a great discussion on how we could each eat entire Thanksgiving meals every single day and not get sick of the taste of those foods. Tonight, Brian, I'm making green bean casserole in your honor.

I loved watching you sit in the back of the church and pray, Brian. I loved watching you serve. You have the greatest servant's heart of anyone I've ever had the pleasure of knowing. And I'm so very thankful I told you that just a couple of weeks ago. You brushed off my compliment and said it was a blessing to you to do things like grill all day. I made sure to let you know that, even if it were, I admired your humility and servanthood nonetheless and then walked away covering my ears so you couldn't brush that off again.

I love that you held sentimental things in a place like I do. You rejoiced with me when I found an engraving from my grandfather to my grandmother in the back of something I was going to throw away. You shared with me about the old, old sewing machine you found that was your grandmother's and you were going to fix it up. And I love that we could carry on conversations about the quality of mixed drinks and good music. I love that you always, always made dozens of Easter eggs for the kids to hunt. I love that presents for loved ones for Christmas were found, in progress, in your apartment the night you passed away. You were always, always thinking of others.

May God welcome you into Heaven with a banquet fit for West Texas, my brother. You shall remain in my prayers and the prayers of our family. We love and miss you, dear friend.

how we met, part 2

So as I was weirdly re-reading my own blog posts, after creepily stalking another blog of yet another person I don't know, I noticed that part 1 was up and running and this one somehow disappeared. I amaze even myself at my technological prowess - the kind, of course, that defies user-friendly Apples and somehow still messes things up. 

If you're in the market for someone to come destroy your website, annihilate your iPod, sabotage your laptop, or drop your phone in a glass of cranberry juice (x2, my friends, within a thirty second timeframe...not that I have experience doing this), I'm your gal. 

So here goes - again. If you don't believe me, check the timestamps on the comments that were left two months ago. Consider that my resume and you're welcome.


Part One: Quick summary - nothing happens except that we meet. It's called editing and cutting, self.


So - remember when Mr. B saved my life (ehhhh, yeah, we'll stick with that one - saved my life) from the treacherous bee? I believe we call that a "type" in all things literary and Catholic.

It all starts when Mr. B is auctioned off for a date. With a friend of mine.

He double dates (we're not animals, people) with his friend and roommate. Steve* They secretly liked each other but wouldn't date for reasons I didn't know. But, they went on a date for a good cause (which was what? I don't remember why we did a date auction now!). Along with Mr. B's roommate's lady friend, Sara*, went our mutual friend, Gertrude*, who was going on the date with Mr B. I was pretty sure she had a crush on him and because I'm not dramatic at all, I was convinced he liked her back.

*Names changed to protect the happily married [to each other] - Mr. B insisted. I'd have kept their names legit-like, judging as how I kept their names in the original, mysteriously disappearing draft.

This is not confusing at all, no? Anonymity kills.

Then Mr. B called me at about 9pm and asked if he could stop by my apartment. Acting nonchalant, I said, sure, I guess I'm not busy. It's no big. There was no quaking in my voice, because I'm as cool as cuke in a Texas garden.

My poor roommate heard all about how he was coming over to humiliate me and tell me that he knew I liked him and he was really sorry because he liked someone else and please leave him alone, for the love of all on this earth. This was shared in a single breath/weep (that only teenage girls know how to pull off) as she was helping me pick out a fabulous outfit and tornado clean the apartment, obv.

When he arrived, my roommate disappeared and later told me that she was dying of thirst but just couldn't make herself walk into the living room where my heart was being crushed. Friends don't do that to friends. We chatted for what felt like eternity but was actually more like four minutes and then Mr B said that he just needed me to know that he really likes me and wanted to know how I felt.

Friends also don't let friends take photos like this, except that we have a whole series of these from over the years. Our kids should be excited that their parents (and godparents) are this cool. And no, this photo has nothing to do with the post, I just had to break up paragraphs because photoless posts are boring to me.

Again, being suave, I probably said something along the lines of, "umm, well, um...hehe..." all while maintaining zero amounts of eye contact.

Mr. B later shared with me that he had had a beer while out with our friends (he was 21, no worries!) and had the courage to do what he felt God was calling him toward. I'm so glad that man had liquid courage.

Because Mr. B and I are not-adventurous-at-all-please-leave-us-alone-we'll-be-alive-and-happy-when-your-sky-diving-rollercoasting-deep-sea-diving-self-is-gone, we decided to take our time in dating. We decided to just be friends to make sure we weren't just falling prey to crushes lined up.

Of course by, "just be friends," somehow we meant that we spent everysinglewakingsecond together. During that time, we fell in love, unbeknownst to the other (with each other. No scandal here.). And we still hadn't gone on our first date.

We finally decided that Our Lord truly was calling us to courtship and we weren't just passing fancies for each other, so Mr. B asked me out on our first date. We did the typical dinner and a movie (Italian and Star Wars...adjusting our pocket protects on three, two, one...) but, between dinner and the movie, it was anything but normal.

Mr B is also anything but normal and I usually like it that way. Sometimes I stop him.

As we were walking to the movie theatre, super extra crazy early because we're nothing if not annoyingly early to things, we heard a "thunk thunk thunk." We stopped and couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Mr. B shrugged it off and started to walk. I wasn't so sure and said I thought we should investigate a little more (who am I? I'm the last person to investigate stuff. Thank my guardian angel for this one!) (second note: I'm actually really nosy. That and my guardian angel can be thanked now). One row over was a little white car with the windows fogged up - the source of the "thunking."

Now Mr. B was really unsure of things and really uncomfortable. He kind of tapped on the window and said, "You guys okay?" A hand reached out toward the back windshield and a muffled voice screamed, "NO!"

Y'all - there were two people stuck in the trunk of a car. In late June. In Texas. At 6pm. We tried opening the doors. We asked if they'd tried the failsafe in the trunk. Mr. B tried prying the trunk open with his hands. When nothing was working, he ran to the theatre to get a crowbar and a manager. I stayed with the folks in the trunk.

We found out they were two teens - one guy, one girl. They had been jumped by three other teens and their shoes were stolen and they were shoved in the trunk. What...the....

Mr. B came back with a crowbar and a manager and they both tried to pop the trunk open. I called the girl's mom to tell her the situation. The mom was insistent that we not break a window to see if the key to the car was inside. Insistent. I thought the terror-filled screams and sobs would help change her mind, so I held the phone up to the trunk and asked again. After hearing her daughter shrieking for her life, she changed her mind.

I can't even tell you how long this was all going on. We called the fire department at some point in there. They showed up and smashed the window in. As they were searching for a key - these brave, strapping, brilliant firemen, desperate to save these two lives - Mr. B heard a "beep, beep, beep" and suggested they look at the ignition. Key found.

The trunk firemen opened the trunk and two soaking-wet, heat-sick teens stumbled out. I'll never forget the look on that tiny little girl's face. She just collapsed. We were told by the paramedics there that if they'd been in there even just a little longer, they would have been hospitalized or worse. Thanks be to God for our over-punctuality.

We didn't know what to do, so we hung around. Of course we missed the movie (Divine intervention? That movie was terrible, as we found out, a rental later.). As we were talking to the manager, the parents of the teens showed up and got into a big yelling match at each other and a police officer had to come in and break it up and remind them that their kids were safe and let's all be thankful for that.

So, that's our first date.

So happy to have saved a couple of lives and dodged the Star Wars Episode I bullet.

It's all pretty lovey-dovey for the next six months. After just a short time, I went from feeling peace that I was going to marry this man to feeling like this:

I don't even know.

To be less desperate and creepy, Mr. B felt the same way, minus the bling.

Christmas break comes along and go home to my folks' house to visit. Mr. B tells me over the phone that he doesn't think that we're ready to get married and maybe we shouldn't plan heading to the chapel anytime soon.

I'll leave y'all hanging on that cliff that obviously plummets toward the chapel of love, but pretend that the crash sound that each LOST episode ends with is playing for you. Stay tuned for the dramatic continuation.

seven quickest takes

1. Moving in uno montho, you ask? Thank you for asking because now I remember and I'm making this post extra quick.

2. Where are you moving, you ask? Austin for a bit and who knows from there. We have applications all over Texas and even into Nebraska. I'm praying for a brand new start. Or, God's Will. Or anything.

3. This week is NFP week and I've had a post in draft all week and I feel like this particular top that is so close to my heart just isn't being written to justice. Lucky for all the blogosphere, my muse (cottage cheese mixed with salsa, lying atop a seasoned deli chip from the local United. She's a particular gal.) has been restocked in our fridge and there might be a really long Take Eight this afternoon on the subject.

4. I'm hearing crickets for these takes.

5. Please join our family while we camp outside Heaven's gate begging all in there to pray for Joseph's Bar Exam in three days. We've particularly adopted St. Joseph the Worker and St. Thomas More and more recently has St. Joseph of Cupertino been adopted as a special patron for the sole reason of his never being asked a question in his studies toward priesthood that he didn't know, and dear St. JC wasn't the brightest seminarian in a cassock, if you know what I mean. So, may Our Lord rig the Bar Exam to make sure Joseph knows all the answers. Pretty please, Lord?

6. Joseph and I just started rewatching Sherlock in preparation for the US premiere (is it world premiere? I feel like all I know about world events right now is bundled up in a tiny blue blanket, being held by a gorgeous mama). We haven't seen it in a year and I'm still in awe of how great this show is.

I was going to go on and on but I just went to confirm the premiere date and it's been pushed back to 2014 and I'm seeing my life flash before my eyes. Please excuse me and the rest of this take.

7. The original intent of the last take was to praise BBC (presently known as That Which Shall Not Be Named Because It Killed Any Joy I Was Feeling For This Fall) for their shows and ask if anyone has seen Mansfield Park. If it has the quality of Downton, Sher (we're tight like that), and Midwife, then I'm sure I'll be addicted in 7.2 seconds.



C'mon back later this pm for an eight great take on NFP. There's nothing like avoiding packing for a good cause.

and then we stayed outside all day

This is kind of how my day went. I hope for a better post tomorrow!


Dear Future House Guests of Ours,

We're not really a tie-dye kind of family. We prefer our vintage look to go back a few more decades than that. If you're wondering why your towels and sheets are all spotted with a wide array of colors, you can ponder it no longer. Instead thank the owners of the little hands that put a rainbow of waxy colors in our load. Perhaps when you finish thanking them for the pop of color in your linens, you can ask them why they thought such a thing would be helpful to their mother. I'll be too busy mourning the loss of the prettiest tablecloth I've ever owned.

With love.

***

Dear Rainbow of Crayons,

Thank you for making your debut one load after I did our whites. Your splotchity goodness is far less noticeable on navy sheets and brown towels than it is on every white item of clothing we own.

Eternally grateful.

***

Dear Texas Summer,

Thank you for going on your unexpected vacay. Take as long as you need. We'll take care of the place while you're gone.

Enjoying the 80s and rainfall.

We played outside all.day.long. This is what a child should look like in the summer!

five favorites (and day 3!)

1. Has anyone else tried these? They're amazing. I could probably eat the entire bag in one sitting but I have ions of self-control when it comes to food so I only eat about three quarters of the bag. Have I mentioned I've started exercising?

2. Tomato Cucumber Cilantro Feta Italian Dressing Salad. It's light, it's easy. I throw in some chicken roasted in cumin, garlic powder, and chili seasoning - bam. It's a healthyish lunch. About as healthy as it gets around here during these last few days before The Bar.

3. I believe this is self-explanatory. I can't get enough of this non-diet lemony-tart goodness. I crave it. all.the.time.

That's probably enough favorite foods - it's 8am, I haven't eaten, and you know where my mind goes when I'm hungry. 

4. Mint nail polish. I'm with every other stay-at-home mom out there and I love mint. I finagled the budget enough that I was able to trade eating a meal or two for a mint cardi (a staple for anyone's wardrobe), a mint necklace, and my mother blessed me a million times over with this nail polish because she caught a whiff of my mintiness when I went down for a visit a couple of weeks ago.  I know mint is going the way of the extinct species of chevron, but don't tell me when that happens. Though I hear whispers that purple is the color of fall and I'm okay with that since it's still at the top of my fave colors to wear.

5. These modest-is-coolest babies. I own three because they were 25% off and that means I can buy extras because I'm saving money, obv. I own this blue with mint (duh) color block, an all white one, and an all black one. I do wish there were more colors available. There's a cute orange one, but orange, you are dead to me after this HB2 debacle. You've been tainted beyond wearing for at least another season.  

This is scientifically proven to be the perfect shirt - long, high-necked, with sleeves. Pair with skinnies and Toms or sandals? You look pretty polished, even without jewelry. I usually pair it with a maxi, a layered necklace, and sandals. Little hands can pull on it - it's still modest! I throw a cardi over it before going into Holy Mass because I like the sleeves a little longer for the chapel, but even without a cardi, it's modest enough for wearing anywhere.  And when it's 256 degrees outside, those short sleeves are incredible.

Target, I'm looking at you to put out 3/4 sleeves in this shirt in the fall. 

6. A bonus since this blog is documenting our spiritual growth and nothing screams holiness more than an obsession with food and clothing. 

St. Raymond Nonnatus. Every self-respecting housewife with a penchant for good entertainment has heard of him from Call the Midwife. The midwives work out of the Nonnatus house. I just read yesterday that this saint is a real saint, though the order of nuns is fictionalized. 

St. Raymond was born via c-section and his mother died while giving birth. Nonnatus means "no birth" and he subsequently became the patron of expectant mothers and midwives.

I'm so happy to have stumbled upon this beautiful saint. He'll be on my speed dial from now on since I'm awful at bearing children and giving birth and I harbor a not-so-secret desire to be a midwife, even though I'm terrified of birthing babies out of the hospital myself. Do as I say, not as I do, my friends.

Join Grace for more five favorites!

day 2 of the blogging challenge

I feel like it's all I can do to get this post out.

This tired mama is thanking the Good Lord for eggs and fruit to feed hungry children on this hot summer day. And by fruit I mean fruit cocktail. The generic brand.

If I had my choice, this is what we'd be doing tonight (minus the hats - they mysteriously disappeared when the girls wanted to wear them to Holy Mass instead of their veils. Strangest thing.):

Because there is nothing better than wearing a cow hat while eating Chick-fil-A.

Same goes for this one, also known as Blue Steele.

Alas, the nearest Chick-Fil-A is at least forty minutes away and I stuck with eggs and processed fruit.


I'm also taking a poll. How much TV do your kiddos watch during the summer? When you live in the hottest level of hell: Texas (for the record, I love my state, I just also love air conditioning. It's genetic - I have pale skin.)? I thought I'd ask while in a good groove.

Admittedly, I go through periods where I'm overwhelmed and they watch too much. It'll make me look like a better parent if I ask right now. We're averaging about two episodes a day: one while I shower and one when I'm secretly packing up their room. On the days I don't have boxes to pack things up, we're still averaging two episodes.

This is only an average and I'm bad at math, so maybe it's actually eight episodes, I don't know. Some days are better, some are worse.

What does it look like in your house?

how we met, part 1

Jumping into two link-ups because they're fun ones. I'm late with the blogging everyday one, but oh well. I'm always just a little short of the perfectionist bar, so this is nothing new!



I feel blessed that Joseph and I met when he was valiantly saving my life.

But I digress.

I didn't want to go to the college I did. I was a self-proclaimed snob in high school. I thought I was better than everyone else. I got into a couple of pretty prestigious universities, thanks to the grace of God (I didn't see it back then!), a good SAT score, and a good number of AP classes. Unfortunately, those universities sure don't give scholarships like state schools do.

Tech gave me a good scholarship, was in my state, and was where God was leading me. I sure didn't see His Divine Plan in all this.

He did bless me, though, by sending a dear friend to the same college. Kevin was a friend of mine from high school. He'd remained a devout Catholic through high school and into college. He was the one who encouraged me to go to Raider Awakening. I told him I didn't want to go and he worked it out so that I didn't even have to pay - just pack and show up.

So I did. In line is where I met the man ordained by God to be my husband. A bee had landed on my shoulder. For those who know me and my numerous phobias, bees rank pretty high. I've never been stung and 28 years of not-being-stung builds up in my mind to a really, really painful experience. Who should sweep in to swipe the bee from my shoulder, but my future husband?

He recalls that I was wearing a hipster outfit. My hair was short and I was wearing thick-rimmed glasses. I think I had more fashion sense than that.

Clearly, Joseph misremembers how fashionable I was.

I remember him wearing a double horse pearl snap shirt. It's as bad as you're imagining right now. I think he was actually wearing an orange button-down, but when I think of college-Joseph, I think of that hideous horse shirt.

We talked. There was mutual attraction. And then we went our separate ways. We crossed paths a few times over the following three days, but retreats being what they are, we were busy and focused on other things.

As the weeks progressed, I remember only crossing paths with Joseph a few times, and each time, I was really attracted to him. And I was pretty sure he was attracted to me. But nothing happened.

For two years.

Nothing lined up for us to admit our feelings for each other. I had a crush on another guy and Joseph had his own crushes and girlfriends. He was a bit of a heartthrob in our little Catholic community. You see, his played guitar, was tall, and had a popular dad. He could dance and did, when we'd go out country dancing in a big group. One of a very small number of young men who actually danced. He dressed hipster-chic (also known as buying his clothes from a thrift store), which made him part of the cool crowd (he denies - whatever. Social outcast over here says he was in the cool group.). He had puppy dog brown eyes, spiky brown hair, was fun and hilarious, and was a faithful young Catholic man. Everyone wanted to go on a date with this guy.

He sometimes dances better than this. Sometimes not.

Remember I said hilarious?

Joseph recalls going up to me one night after a social gathering with the intention of asking me on a date. While mindlessly chatting about who knows what, another girl walked up to us and asked Joseph out. He accepted. And it was another year before we started dating. THAT'S how the first two years of our friendship went. Bad, bad timing in our minds, but all ordained by the Creator of all.

He knew we were two immature teenagers who needed to grow to love Him above all else. I truly believe that He protected our hearts from each other for those first two years and our friendship grew into something stable and deep.

But finally, finally, after two years, things lined up.

I had fallen pretty hard for Joseph, but he had a girlfriend who was also an acquaintance of mine. I remember going into a little side chapel before Holy Mass one day and kneeling down to ask Our Lord to take away any feelings I had for him. I could never do anything about them and I would never hurt my friend. I asked for peace and since I've never been super good at letting go of my own will, I added the little prayer that, "if we are meant to be together like I wholeheartedly think, would You just make him come to his senses and realize it? ThankyouverymuchandI'llneveraskYouforanythingagain."

It was while I was kneeling there that Joseph knelt next to me and asked for a prayer or two because he had just broken up with his girlfriend.

First thought - whoa, that was fast.

Second thought - an incredible sense of peace. At that moment, I knew, as crazy as it sounds, that I would be marrying this young man. And I'm pretty sure he knew he'd be marrying me.

We weren't even dating here and we did the prom-photo-underneath-the-garland thing.

The next part of this story is way more interesting, but first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes babies in the baby carriage, and then comes grocery shopping because apparently children need to eat.



And for the record, Joseph still has that horse shirt.

See? Ugly horse shirt.