need want hope pray - a stolen post

Rachel had a great post about the end of 2013 and the beginning of a new year.

I'm stealing because I'm trying to get back into blogging.

In 2014, I NEED to be more structured in schooling. I've done a very Charlotte Mason approach to kinder (and pre-k for Elle), but first grade has to be more structured. I still very much believe that play time is vital to the learning ability of children, which is why homeschooling has a great benefit - we do the work for half a day, and the rest is left to exploring, playing, choring, etc.

This is the first year that we could buy lesson plans and all the books we need and I think that will do a lot to help me. I'm not a teacher by nature so I need someone to do all the work for me, at least until I can get a handle on this lifestyle.


In 2014, I WANT to established down into a happy, comfortable, settled routine. If we're wanting, let's shoot for the moon. I'd like to have our own house - with enough room for a learning room (school/office/sewing) that doesn't have to get put away each meal; with a room for guests to come stay with us (not couches, y'all. We are moving on up.); with a big backyard to foster those little imaginations in my care; with a kitchen big enough that friends and family can gather 'round, enjoying a glass of wine or a cup of tea while a meal simmers on gas stove (sitting atop my double convection oven....I said I was shooting for the moon!).

This house will also be close to New Braunfels where we go to Mass every day at 6am with the priests of the Mission of Divine Mercy. No, scratch that - this house is close to the newly established Fraternity of St. Peter parish, where Fr. Mozzie is stationed as pastor (this is fictional, don't get excited). It will also be sitting on ten acres of land, where we can raise our own chickens and grass-fed cows (that we hire someone to care for for us, because ew), for those that are interested. Oh, and we have a giant garden.

Realistically, let's go back to the first sentence - I just look forward to getting our own place and settling into a familiar routine in a new town where we know few people.


In 2014, I HOPE for restored health among loved ones. Too many heartaches lately, too many struggles.


In 2014, I PRAY for new life and living in accordance with God's Will, no matter what comes.



Here's to 2014. Make sure you keep me accountable to do a longer post about 2013 and 2014!

on heavenly thievery

I've been trying to follow alongside my sister-in-law's Month of Gratitude and clearly I've been doing a fantastic job, as I'm doing my first post on the seventh of November.

Today's prompt is to name a song that makes me grateful whenever I hear it. I'm supposed to dance around to it, but little E did that for me. Upon walking into my room while I was playing it, she said, "Well this is sweet," donned her ballerina face (she has one), and plied (past tense of plie? What is it!? I can't find it) to her heart's content.

In lieu of uncoordinated bodily movements, known as dancing to me, or seizing to the rest of the world, I'll just play it over and over until my ears bleed, such as is the way with me.


Take a listen or two hundred alongside me.


This was the song that Mr. B and I danced to as newlyweds at our wedding reception. It's based off of the Song of Songs (Song of Solomon for those who don't use Douay-Rheims) written by Solomon.

Song of Songs 8:6: Put me as a seal upon thy heart, as a seal upon thy arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy as hard as hell, the lamps thereof are fire and flames. 

Newlyweds experiencing the flame of love or heat of Houston in June. I've heard it both ways. 

The entire book of Song of Songs parallels the courtship, wedding, and marriage of a young man and woman. Unless you're trying to not understand what Solomon was doing, it's easy to see that the parallels extend to God and His people (updated circa 33AD to Christ and His Church).

I forget about this song a lot, to be honest. I get too caught up in the sounds of children, and homemaking, and silence - blessed, blessed silence - and forget my youngin' years of loving music. But when I remember this song, watch out YouTube, your video view count is about to hit the thousands.

During particularly difficult times, this song immediately calms me. It reminds me of two things: 

Uno. I have the love of a Godly man. I have a husband who gets up with kids at night so I can rest and find health again. He then gets up before dawn to go to a job that he loves, but doesn't pay him and probably doesn't appreciate him, just so that he can find a job that will support us. I have a husband who, without fail, dies to himself daily to make us more comfortable. I have a husband who prays a multiple Rosaries daily, offering the merits for everyone but himself. He isn't recognized for most of what he does, because he does it quietly and behind closed doors, like he's supposed to; there are sacrifices he makes that I'm sure I don't even know about. He staunchly and charitably defends our precious Faith to those who don't believe, while living a life that brings those who do believe closer to Our Lord. I have a husband who, even in the heat of an argument or panic attack, makes me laugh. He composes songs and stories that no one ever hears, but he doesn't waste the talent give him from above. He plays with our girls, reads with them, cuddles with them, and loves their mother. He prays, he loves, he plays, he stands strong and faithful, and I'm grateful that he chose me.

My humble, loving husband, circa 1992. He's sans the hair curl now. And for that I am also grateful.

And to top it off, we have sacramental marriage, though which Our Lord literally pours graces into our souls if we just let Him. 

Dos. Solomon may be hailed as the wisest king ever to have lived, but homeboy got something wrong - we haven't stolen Our Bridegroom's Heart. He's freely given it to us and so desperately wants to shower gifts and blessings and love upon us. 

There are times that my faith is weak. Not Faith - that's firmly rooted - but my heart loses it's focus on that God loves me more than I can understand and will provide. Just as I don't hand sweets to my girls whenever they ask - because even I'm not that dense - He can't hand me all I ask for, right away, at least. The bride in the Song lost her bridegroom for a while, and just kept searching through the night until she found Him. Our Lord knows we won't always stay right by His side, though He wants us to, but He does want us to persevere in finding Him. 

There are three parts to spiritual life - consolation, desolation, and perfect unity. During consolation, we feel the good feelings of being a Christian. The warm fuzz helps us seek out Truth and delve deeper into the Faith. But eventually, our most wise God desires us to want Him and not His consolations, so He puts us through times of desolation. This is when I need to remember to continue to search Him out. He's there, somewhere, waiting for me in the darkness and just wants to know I choose Him and not the blessings He heaps upon me. 

Let's skip the snarky caption here, eh?

This song reminds me to keep my lantern lit in search of Him during those dark nights of the soul when my mind knows Our Lord is somewhere, just out of reach, but my heart doesn't feel it. 

So, on this dreary, rainy seventh day of November, I'm grateful for that reminder. And you're probably thankful that this novel is ending. And it is. Now. The end.

one of these is not like the others

Halloween, or All Hallow's Eve as we're trying to remember to say in our forgetful family, was last night. We braved the scary night at oh-5:30pm when the sun was still bright in the sky and we surprised still-dinnering families with a lively "Happy Halloween!" They gave us extra candy to get us off their doorsteps and we gave them practice for the evening so all-in-all, it was a good run. We were home and the kids were sugared up by the time the sun set and the creepers came out for the night.

Behold, on this Feast of All Saints, our Heavenly interns:

St. Joan of Arc and her trusty sidekick, oft forgotten by historians: Sparkle

St. Ewisabef is Hungry, commonly called St. Elizabeth of Hungary by ignorant masses

Every saintly queen needs a saintly knight only slightly larger than herself to stay safe.

If you look closely, you'll notice my scarf is sporting birds. Therefore, I dressed up as a Bird Lady, or St. Francis of Assisi's sister who is lesser known, but also had a strong devotion to God's small creatures. We'll call her...Frances of Assisi.

St. Elizabeth in search of a hungry soul to feed, namely herself; namely, with candy.

A lawyer, St. Joan, St. Elizabeth, Bird Lady - ten million fictional points to the person that guesses who isn't dressed up. 

Ding ding ding! You win nothing! Mr. B isn't dressed up. We found out, after we checked and rechecked (times 1 million times infinity) the Texas Bar website, that Mr. B passed his Bar Exam and is officially an attorney. All thanks and praise be to Our Lord and Our Lady who got us through a very tough time and gave Mr. B the grace to pass!

Mr B is due a whole lot of praise for his hard-work, dedication, long days, long evenings, and copious amounts of studying. He remained true to the Faith, loyal and loving to his family, and faithful to morals and Truth. We're so very proud of him. I know I couldn't have gone through this journey with anyone else by my side.

The three c's of motherhood (coffee, chocolate, and cocktails) deserve a shout-out, too, for helping me out with the kids while he was gone so much. Holla. 

Now - to hit up Heaven one more time for just oooone more simple dimple request of a job soon, like yesterday. Thankyouverymuch and we'll pray for your intentions in our Rosaries, as well.

Happy All Saints'! I'd post pictures of what we do, but there would only be snapshots of empty candy wrappers, slumbering faces, and staring off into space enjoying the lack of costume-making hovering in the near future. And I can't take pictures of my cute kids while looking like that. 

Seven Stolen Quick Takes

I've stunk at this blogging gig over the last couple of weeks. St. Teresa of Avila once wrote:

“How is it God, that You have given me this hectic busy life when I have so little time to enjoy Your presence? Throughout the day, people are waiting to speak with me, and even at meals, I have to continue talking to people about their needs and problems. During sleep itself I am still thinking and dreaming about the multitude of concerns that surround me. I do all this not for my own sake, but for Yours. I only hope that for You it is truly a sacrifice of love. I know that You are constantly beside me, yet I am usually so  busy that I ignore You. If you want me to remain so busy, please force me to think about and love You even in the midst of such hectic activity. If You do not want me so busy, please release me from it, showing other how they can take over my responsibilities.” 

I feel like that's my life right now (minus the whole being a saint because, try as I may, fail as I may just as much), and if I don't have time for sharing a cuppa with The Creator of the Universe, I sure don't have time for blogging.

Since I don't want to bungee off the blogosphere cliff too terribly far, I thought I'd do the quickest Quick Takes ever - meaning, someone else did all the work and I pulled a break and entry and stole their work.

1. Adorable, creative, cultural. Keep naming things I am not. But bookmarking for a future homeschool project because if there's anything I can do, it's steal other peoples' educational ideas. 

*

2. Let's ruffle some feathers here:

• Uno.
• Dos.

Thoughts? I think we all know where I stand. In the kitchen. Barefoot. Wishing I were pregnant.

*

3. The case against Johnny Football and the claim that, "he's just a kid." Wreck 'em. 

*

4. Sob. Sniffle. Hug kids. A beautiful reminder during a trying time for my comforts that are being chipped away by solo parenting.

*

5. For those that don't know (read: all), I'm a history addict. Fascinating. True? No idea, but I think it's neat and plan to research it more.

*

6. Love. I hope to one day be as hospitable as some I know. For now, I still inch stray laundry and toys out of sight with my toe and feebly apologize that we're still waiting on the rice to cook and offer stale chips with no salsa. Just ask anyone who's been to my inhospitable abode.

*

7. Wreck 'em. I was out of links, so this will do.

*

8. I remembered what I was going to put for the last quick take, but I love The King, so I'm just adding another. My current history research project is about the Hatfields and McCoys because I'm a year late to the game and just discovered the show. Not the most moral of shows, so I didn't finish it, but the real stories fascinate me. Any good, unbias websites about them?

on things that go hiss in the night

Here in the House of B, we're big believers in the preternatural. We're fully aware that spiritual warfare is real, present, and dangerous.

We pull no punches in this realm, or in any, really (I'd apologize to folks who read this who get annoyed with us in real life, but that's a pulled punch). 

If we're told by someone of proper authority that something is dangerous to our souls and invites demons to come on by and hang out, that thing is out of our lives. Questions asked and research done after we've rid our lives of it, and we've always found that the spiritual director (surprise, surprise) has our eternal souls' best interest in mind and they weren't just bored and needed a laugh.

So, short end of the not so short novel is that we take this stuff seriously.

My life.

We live in a land flowing with blessed water and salt.

All this is said to confirm your suspicions that I may need some help and to introduce a story.

I have a friend who is kind of new to the idea of spiritual warfare. She's listened to a sermon or two and read some articles on the topic and is growing increasingly aware of just how prevalent demonic attacks are. 

So she texts me and tells me that there is a hissing in her house. 

She's getting ready for the day and hears a voice-like hiss. Of course she whips around, hoping her children were talking to her. Nothing. She's imagined it. Until she hears it again. 

This time, she yells to her kids to ask if they were talking to her. They answer no. She hesitantly goes back to her business. And hears it again.

This time she grabs the kids and the holy water and hightails it for the door. I applaud her for waiting until the third time because I would have magically remembered a long-forgotten errand on the first hiss.

Preach it, sister.

Remember when I said I'm paranoid and scared of my own shadow? It's true. I still am. And apparently I'm also scared of other peoples' shadows because I've been thinking of The Hiss all day.

Fast forward to this evening. I go for a run - society's word for running and my word for belabored breathing and walking. And of course, when I get back my lovely dripping-wet self just wants to melt into a puddle of lukewarm shower water. As I'm getting ready for the shower - I hear a hiss.  Naturally I start giggling.

***It should be noted here that I'm awkward. Really super awkward. And when I'm uncomfortable, I laugh. A silent, unending laugh that I just can't control. If you're telling me something heartfelt and raw and emotional, please don't take offense that I'm smiling and quietly laughing. I really am empathetic to your emotions, I'm just awkward.***

In my quick-few-second thoughts, I think that it's my mom playing a joke on me because of The Hiss earlier in the day. I continue getting ready for my shower and quietly giggling because what if it's not my mom. And I hear it again.

Now I'm throwing on my clothes because demons can't attack a clothed person (it's a lie I told myself to calm the giggle. Didn't work.). I open the door and there's nothing there and I think surely I imagined it as I've never ever been known to do.

I shut the door and just stand there - enjoying the playback of my life flashing before my eyes. And I hear it again.

I jerk the door open quickly, so as to sprint the ten feet to the nearest holy water bottle (lie #2 - demons can't catching a sprinting woman carrying holy water) and what do I trip over?

At least I was alone this time.

A cat. A flipping cat hissing at another flipping cat.


The end. Tell me I'm not the only one something this ridiculous has happened to?

a review of a mistake in life lately

I got a little behind on Blogtember, if the definition of little is the same as a lot.

This week, I was supposed to do a life lately, a review, and tell the story of a mistake I made.

There are few things better that you can do for a person than editing your words down by 50% (says the novelist emailer), so that's I'll do what I can to be charitable.

(Edited to add upon finishing this two days after starting - this isn't short. At all.)

Let's do this thang.

A patter-in.

We've been educating the youngins. Some lessons are more formal than others. We get fancy up in our house when we change into real clothes before we start school for the day.

A lesson in letting mommy sleep while you occupy yourself.

Behold the face of home education.

We've gone on enrichment field trips.

Uncle 1st Lt. explaining the habits of monkeys to eager young minds.

Some are more enriching than others.

At the HEB imitating the monkeys. Or something like that.

We saw off Uncle and Aunt 1st Lt. as they moseyed along across the South to another base. This is the first big move for our family so we had a bit of a problem letting them go.

We're not above tears or hysteria.

Autumn has come and the Sisters B and their mama wore the appropriate colors to Holy Mass to celebrate. Faces are true to emotions felt over the arrival of our long-lost lower temps.

Applaud my photography skills.

And with fall comes a couple of special days where imagination reigns, children delight, and The Guild of Uncrafty Mothers have immeasurable ways to earn their way into Heaven.

Breaking the Guild rules and preparing costumes more than two days in advance. A sneak peek at a couple of saints.
Any guesses?

In the midst of all this busyness, I've made a pretty glaring error. A big one. One brought to my attention as I was fulfilling my vocation by researching and planning and re-researching and shifting around education plans.

M was swinging on the end of the bed, chattering away while I half-heartedly answered every once in a while. I had no idea what she was saying. I was busy! I'm doing important work! I'm creating an imaginative, holy, classical environment so I can produce the future saints of the Church, child! 

"When I grow up, I'm going to have time to play with my kids."

Screeeeeeech.

Now, lately, M has been enamored with her mama. Anything I do, she wants to do. Anything I wear, she loves and copies. Phrases I use, food I eat, books I read - anything and everything, she wants to be her mama. I love it and it inspires me to be a better, more intentional person.

So when the phrase, "when I grow up..." isn't ended with, "I want to be a mommy as devoted to her offspring as you," it made me want to cry.

"Do you think Mommy doesn't have time to play with you?" I inquired of the brutally honest five-year old.

"Well, sometimes you do and sometimes you don't. And that's okay," my soft-hearted, terrified-of-confrontation-like-her-mama-is girl answered, just as I would have in the same situation.

I messed up big time. 

In all my attempts to be a loving mother and pintrest-worthy educator, I'd forgotten the importance and joy of just playing with my little ones. I'll cut myself enough slack to acknowledge we're in a very transitional period, I'm solo-parenting most of the week, I'm new to this home education gig, and I'm tired. 

But that's no excuse. I look so forward to the moment when their little eyes fall shut at night that I plow through, getting all I have to get done, done - and not enjoying and growing in the moment. God's given me the opportunity to grow in love and holiness with what He's put in front of me and I just duck my head and plow through without earning graces or building upon the love my girls have for me.

Life skills lesson #4 - how to gracefully ignore bodily fluids being flung all over your hands. I'm training up a future mother here.

What's even worse is that lately, I've gotten a little misty-eyed at how big my little girls are getting. I love every part of the ages we're in - the cuddle time each afternoon as we read for hours during the hottest part of the day; the wanting to be just like mama; the hugs and little whispers of, "I'm so glad we're best friends, Mommy."; the innocence of playing animals and little people and calico critters. Every single thing about this age is a newfound joy and there is no one else in the world they'd rather discover it with than their sister, the mama, and their daddy. 

As I've gone through pictures of the past five years with our girls, it's made me realize how fleeting this is and how quickly we're approaching the ages where things aren't quite as simple and care-free. If God doesn't bless us with another wee one, these days are quickly fading forever. At the very least, they are with these two beautiful girls. And I'm done making the mistake of the duck and run to bedtime.

The Never-Ending Story Of Ponies and Princesses.

I can't claim to having changed overnight, but I've certainly gotten better at just being silly with my little ones.

And this is where the review part comes in:

This home education thing. 

It's hard. Really, really hard. Especially if you're not in your own space, shipped your books to the wrong address, your materials are across the state, you don't have an income, and you have no idea what you're doing. Hypothetically, of course.

I will sing the praises of home education all day long to you. I will ride high upon my gigantic horse and with him, step upon a box of soap. I feel strongly that not only is every family capable of doing it, every family can be called to it. 

I once listened to a talk where the priest discussed the real importance and reason of homeschooling. Especially at our girls' young ages, educating at home is far less about academics, and far more about instilling a love of learning and a rock-solid foundation of virtue. 

These years are fleeting (see: above) and my review on the last month of homeschooling is that I need to realize that. I need to be okay with tossing aside my meticulously planned academic week and packing a picnic lunch and playing in nature for a day. We always, always get everything done and I think our girls have and can hold their own against the education philosophies of other schooling options.

What I'm teaching them is to overcome selfishness and impatience. There are few people on this earth with less patience than me. I am constantly battling it and often lose - more often that not (holla at my confessor). When that happens every 7.9 minutes, I tell them that I, too, make bad choices and I'm sorry for how I acted, do they forgive me, and we start again. I'm praying that, through our home education, they learn, above all, to die to one's self - to serve others, most especially when you don't want to.

St. Therese's Homeschool of Hard Knocks or The Little Way. I've heard it both ways.

And because of that, we trudge on, learning and growing and failing and growing some more. I'd say that earns an A+.

comfortable

Today's Blogtember: Friday, September 20: React to this term: comfort.


I'm not above admitting that my favorite place in my entire house is my bed while I'm sleeping soundly, uninterrupted by the sounds of children needing their basic needs met (gah, what next? a learjet?) with white noise blocking out any sounds of traffic or imagined burglers breaking into our house to kill us; preferable, but not necessary, is the presence of those needy children's quiet, precious, sleeping selves next to me, sandwiched between me and my quiet, loving, non-snoring husband - all of us warm and cozy under a fluffy freshly laundered (hence the well-deserved nap - pat, pat, back) blanket, warming us from the 40 degree weather that our super-efficient a/c is blowing out. 

I'm really low-maintenence, obv.

Motherhood is hard, but the view is great.

Now that, y'all, is comfortable. 

And sometimes it's what gets me through the day. When the thought of that doesn't, I go to my [over-use-but-fittingly-named] happy place. 

My soul is quieted when I'm struggling and I mentally place myself in a darkened chapel in front of a monstrance holding The Blessed Sacrament. If the moment permits, I'll quickly put my frustrations at His Feet (why, oh, why, do my children constantly need meals and dirty their clothes upon eating said food? is a big one. #firstworldproblems); if the moment doesn't allow, I just quiet myself for a few seconds and focus on Our Lord in The Blessed Sacrament. 

Even now, the sound of Gregorian Chant immeeeeediately calms me and puts my mind in the presence of Our Lord. I have an affinity for darkened churches (filled with people and altar servers and a priest because I'm not going to lie, an empty darkened church quickens my steps and makes my the grand champion of quick genuflecting) because of my love of Midnight Mass early Christmas morning, or Easter Vigil Mass, or even the different schedule of a celebrating a Holy Day of Obligation with attending an evening Mass. 

 It's a stretch, but it counts, y'all. h/t Kristin, again!

It stems from my childhood and still brings me immediate peace (a little less quiet peace as we're now toting two little souls into said very late Masses, but hey, there are many different ways to grow in holiness.).  When I hear Gregorian Chant, my soul is calmed and I can remember the smell of incense and the ringing of bells, especially the progression of bells during the Gloria on Easter Vigil. 

Needy children before Easter Vigil this year.

Christmas Evening Mass post-veil hair.

Those thoughts (they're really super quick whenever they happen) quiet down into the gentle comfort of one-on-one time with Our Lord in The Blessed Sacrament. And even though most of the time neither of us say anything, I see Him and He sees me and that's enough to comfort my soul.