I just read an article by Karee Santo on CatholicLane.com that many of my readers will appreciate: Finally Finding Focus: Our ADHD Story. Karee begins, "I didn’t use to believe in medication for Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Truth be told, I didn’t used to believe in ADHD at all." Sounds familiar!
Karee makes an important point about recognizing her daughter's needs as an individual and advocating for her daughter with both the school and the doctors to get the medication she needed.
Life in my Domestic Church. I am a wife and mother of four children. I will share my thoughts on Faith and home life.
Monday, April 29, 2013
Wednesday, April 17, 2013
Spiritual Woman: The Catholic Baby Name Book has Arrived!
My dear friend's book is available for purchase! Names that reflect one's faith are beautiful gifts which are the honor of the parents to bestow on their children. If you or someone you know is expecting a child, this book offers descriptions of over 10,000 Catholic Baby names. Read more at Spiritual Woman!
Spiritual Woman: The Catholic Baby Name Book has Arrived!: Ave Maria Press sent me my first copy of The Catholic Baby Name Book . They did such a wonderful job of putting this together. At 527 page...
Spiritual Woman: The Catholic Baby Name Book has Arrived!: Ave Maria Press sent me my first copy of The Catholic Baby Name Book . They did such a wonderful job of putting this together. At 527 page...
Monday, April 15, 2013
Prayers for Boston Marathon Spectators and Participants
Two years ago, my husband qualified for, ran, and finished the Boston Marathon. He had run three marathons before Boston, and I had always been with him at the start and waiting for him at the finish. I remember feeling so uneasy waiting for him to pass through the finish line at Boston. The crowd was beyond anything I could have imagined. My children and I paced back and forth around the corner from Boylston St. since we couldn't get close enough to see him finish. We had arranged a meeting point near the buses that contained the gear the runners left on the buses in the morning since the race is "point to point," and we weren't at the start of the race with him. I had such a feeling of disconnect and worry that day. When we found one another after he finished, I was so relieved. He had run hard and had to sit down, but he seemed relieved, too, to have completed his goal.
Today in Boston, an act of senseless violence has marred the historic Boston Marathon. A homemade bomb exploded close the the finish line about 4 hours into the race. The race today honored the 26 victims at Newtown, Connecticut. Now, Boston has its own victims. Two are confirmed dead and at least two dozen are injured. Reporters mentioned that many had severed limbs. As I flipped between the networks, watching the explosion over and over, the emergency workers and other citizens coming to the aid of the injured, tears streamed down my face. I sobbed for a good 20 minutes, trying to make sense of it all. I saw the images of the street I had walked with my young children two years ago. I heard reports that children were injured. I watched footage of runners finishing, others falling as debris from the blast struck them. I worried for their safety. I also thought like a runner and the wife of a runner--How would runners find their families? What did runners know who were still out on the course? And basic things like, would they be able to finish? No, the race was over.
Boston is the big show: the Superbowl of Marathons. Runners must qualify to race the Boston Marathon. They train for months, even years, to get there. Not everyone finishes in 2:30 hours like the elites. At around four hours into the race when the bomb went off, about half of the runners were still on the course. The athletes came to finish their race, but a senseless act of violence ruined their moment.
As I write, I don't know the motivation of the bomber, though reports indicate someone is in custody. I pray for those who lost their lives and the many who were injured in the explosion. I wonder what our world has become when people aren't safe at a foot race. God help us all.
Today in Boston, an act of senseless violence has marred the historic Boston Marathon. A homemade bomb exploded close the the finish line about 4 hours into the race. The race today honored the 26 victims at Newtown, Connecticut. Now, Boston has its own victims. Two are confirmed dead and at least two dozen are injured. Reporters mentioned that many had severed limbs. As I flipped between the networks, watching the explosion over and over, the emergency workers and other citizens coming to the aid of the injured, tears streamed down my face. I sobbed for a good 20 minutes, trying to make sense of it all. I saw the images of the street I had walked with my young children two years ago. I heard reports that children were injured. I watched footage of runners finishing, others falling as debris from the blast struck them. I worried for their safety. I also thought like a runner and the wife of a runner--How would runners find their families? What did runners know who were still out on the course? And basic things like, would they be able to finish? No, the race was over.
Boston is the big show: the Superbowl of Marathons. Runners must qualify to race the Boston Marathon. They train for months, even years, to get there. Not everyone finishes in 2:30 hours like the elites. At around four hours into the race when the bomb went off, about half of the runners were still on the course. The athletes came to finish their race, but a senseless act of violence ruined their moment.
As I write, I don't know the motivation of the bomber, though reports indicate someone is in custody. I pray for those who lost their lives and the many who were injured in the explosion. I wonder what our world has become when people aren't safe at a foot race. God help us all.
Sunday, April 14, 2013
And My Life Was Never the Same...Praise God!
Sixteen years ago I gave birth to my first child. The beginning of the pregnancy included a scare. Just one month into our marriage, Mike took me to the ER since I was experienceing severe abdominal pain. We found out over the course of a few hours that I was pregnant, but that the pregnancy may be ectopic. As the tests were inconclusive, I was sent home for "two days of bed rest," but didn't make it 24 hours. I returned by ambulance the next day, followed by emergency surgery. When the doctor administered the anesthesia, I had no idea whether I'd be pregnant when I woke. I had spent the previous night in tears and prayer.
A couple weeks later, just as I healed from surgery, the morning sickness kicked in. I lost about 15 pounds in the first trimester. I feared for the health of the baby, but felt like a baby myself because I could barely walk across a room or cook a meal without holding onto something. I was weak, but God had a plan.
The queasy months were a sign of a healthy pregnancy. The baby grew. We found out we were having a boy, and we gave him a name when he was still in the womb. I talked to him a lot. I was finishing graduate school, so as a "belly rider" (my husband coined that term for the child in the womb, and it always makes me smile), my growing infant attended class with me. He and I shared secret moments as he fluttered, kicked, and squirmed while I was learning Discourse Theory or studying Working Class literature.
After a tumultuous beginning to my pregnancy, my husband and I grew closer to God and to one another as we prayed a daily rosary for the health of our unborn baby. Eight months to the day after the surgery, I held a healthy 8-pound baby boy in my arms. And my life was never the same.
A couple weeks later, just as I healed from surgery, the morning sickness kicked in. I lost about 15 pounds in the first trimester. I feared for the health of the baby, but felt like a baby myself because I could barely walk across a room or cook a meal without holding onto something. I was weak, but God had a plan.
The queasy months were a sign of a healthy pregnancy. The baby grew. We found out we were having a boy, and we gave him a name when he was still in the womb. I talked to him a lot. I was finishing graduate school, so as a "belly rider" (my husband coined that term for the child in the womb, and it always makes me smile), my growing infant attended class with me. He and I shared secret moments as he fluttered, kicked, and squirmed while I was learning Discourse Theory or studying Working Class literature.
After a tumultuous beginning to my pregnancy, my husband and I grew closer to God and to one another as we prayed a daily rosary for the health of our unborn baby. Eight months to the day after the surgery, I held a healthy 8-pound baby boy in my arms. And my life was never the same.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Is Jesus Really God?
The Kingdom Hall of the Jehovah's Witnesses is pretty close to my home, so Witnesses regularly visit our neighborhood. Their timing is very strategic, often just before holidays (which they don't celebrate). Last fall, they came on Wednesday the day before Thanksgiving. I was putting something in my van, which was parked in the driveway. No knocking was required since I was already outside. My enthusiasm for God and the Bible surprised my visitor ("Sue") and she has been back a couple of times. She even sent me a letter in February because she had gone to Florida over the winter. I had sort of expected her to show up on Holy Week, and sure enough she rang the bell on Wednesday.
Sue had a young companion with her on her most recent visit. The young woman, a homeschooler in her senior year of high school, was very quiet and seemed skeptical of me when I invited them into the mudroom out of the cold wind. Sue mentioned to the young woman that I homeschool my children. I chatted away with "Sue" about the winter, her husband's illness, and her job working in the local schools 20 years ago. Sue asked if I had read the book she had given me about the bible. I told her I had read some of it, but I didn't make it all the way through.
I wondered what she would choose to share that week. She had a Watchtower tract regarding the Resurrection. I took it and read it after she left, scratching my head. I know that the Bible has been translated to meet the ideas of various "Christian" denominations in order to fit their doctrine, but denying Jesus' divinity is not common among Protestants. I still don't understand how the Witnesses can think of themselves as Christians while denying Christ's divinity, but I am seeking information to help me understand. Since that day I've been paying closer attention to scripture readings as they relate to Christ's Divinity.
After she shared a reading from St. Paul to the Colossians, I shared my thoughts with Sue and her companion on the Seasons of Life that I had written about the day before her visit. I read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 from her bible (I knew chapter and verse when she came since I had just looked it up the day before--thank you Holy Spirit! Next time, I'll remember to grab my Ignatius RSV on the way to the door). I thought quietly about the season of "seeking and finding and witnessing." For some reason, Sue is very drawn to me. I imagine she may see in me a willing spirit who might become a JW, since I am welcoming to her, and I find joy in scripture. My hope, of course, is that the Holy Spirit is drawing her to my door so that I may witness to her and help her find and seek the true God in the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. On our first visit, when she was alone, she mentioned that she was raised "Catholic." I pray that she finds the "Splendor of Truth" some day and comes home to the Catholic Church.
In today's gospel this Divine Mercy Sunday, Thomas witnesses the Resurrected Lord and proclaims, "My Lord and My God" (John 20:28). The Jehovah's Witnesses have a number of ways to explain this scripture. Catholic Answers provides a useful analysis of The God of the Jehovah's Witnesses in a way that helps me understand their translations differ, as well as where their translation contradicts their own beliefs.
This experience reminds me that our faith instruction doesn't conclude at Confirmation when we "don't have to go to CCD any more." Our Catholic faith is rich and deep. We need to continue to study and grow in the gifts of the Holy Spirit and be nourished by the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ if we hope to live with the Father in Paradise.
Sue had a young companion with her on her most recent visit. The young woman, a homeschooler in her senior year of high school, was very quiet and seemed skeptical of me when I invited them into the mudroom out of the cold wind. Sue mentioned to the young woman that I homeschool my children. I chatted away with "Sue" about the winter, her husband's illness, and her job working in the local schools 20 years ago. Sue asked if I had read the book she had given me about the bible. I told her I had read some of it, but I didn't make it all the way through.
I wondered what she would choose to share that week. She had a Watchtower tract regarding the Resurrection. I took it and read it after she left, scratching my head. I know that the Bible has been translated to meet the ideas of various "Christian" denominations in order to fit their doctrine, but denying Jesus' divinity is not common among Protestants. I still don't understand how the Witnesses can think of themselves as Christians while denying Christ's divinity, but I am seeking information to help me understand. Since that day I've been paying closer attention to scripture readings as they relate to Christ's Divinity.
After she shared a reading from St. Paul to the Colossians, I shared my thoughts with Sue and her companion on the Seasons of Life that I had written about the day before her visit. I read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 from her bible (I knew chapter and verse when she came since I had just looked it up the day before--thank you Holy Spirit! Next time, I'll remember to grab my Ignatius RSV on the way to the door). I thought quietly about the season of "seeking and finding and witnessing." For some reason, Sue is very drawn to me. I imagine she may see in me a willing spirit who might become a JW, since I am welcoming to her, and I find joy in scripture. My hope, of course, is that the Holy Spirit is drawing her to my door so that I may witness to her and help her find and seek the true God in the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. On our first visit, when she was alone, she mentioned that she was raised "Catholic." I pray that she finds the "Splendor of Truth" some day and comes home to the Catholic Church.
In today's gospel this Divine Mercy Sunday, Thomas witnesses the Resurrected Lord and proclaims, "My Lord and My God" (John 20:28). The Jehovah's Witnesses have a number of ways to explain this scripture. Catholic Answers provides a useful analysis of The God of the Jehovah's Witnesses in a way that helps me understand their translations differ, as well as where their translation contradicts their own beliefs.
This experience reminds me that our faith instruction doesn't conclude at Confirmation when we "don't have to go to CCD any more." Our Catholic faith is rich and deep. We need to continue to study and grow in the gifts of the Holy Spirit and be nourished by the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Our Lord Jesus Christ if we hope to live with the Father in Paradise.
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