One Week Down....

Here we are, one week into Lent.  How's everyone doing?  So far, I have been tempted to look at Facebook, but not deeply.  I'm curious about what people are up to and if they've posted anything funny or intriguing.  However, I have successfully avoided logging in for a week.

Unfortunately, my hope to be more in tune and focused on my work as a result of giving up Facebook hasn't really happened yet.  I'm still behind in my grading.  A former classmate had an expression that suits grading essays: "It takes longer than it does."  I plan to finish a certain number of essays in an hour, and it never happens.  I'm perpetually behind.  I wonder if I give too many assignments, or if I should make more of them pass/fail.  Then, at the end of the semester, the students who "get it" specifically mention the usefulness of the progression of assignments, and I know that I'm doing something right.  I'm not the quickest professor in terms of returning graded work, but my students should be able to recognize two things:

1. I actually read what they write
2. I care about helping them improve their writing skills

In the end, that's really what my job is all about, so I need to stop whining about all the essays I need to grade and get it done.

The most important thing in Lent is not succeeding at a particular fast.  The most important thing is letting God take control and listening to his plan for us.  My intentions for the Facebook Fast are pure.  I want to pay better attention to the needs of my family and to be a better teacher.  I believe these motives are in line with God's will.  Therefore, I will continue my fast and pray that God uses my little sacrifice to mold me into the wife, mother, and teacher he wants me to be.

Facebook Fast

For the last two years, several of my Facebook friends have "given up" Facebook for Lent.  Some did the whole stretch from Ash Wednesday until Holy Saturday, coming back to say "Happy Easter!"  Others checked in on Sundays throughout Lent, which are not counted in the 40 Days.

Recently, I've noticed that completing my work has been very difficult.  As I've mentioned on this blog before, I'm easily distracted.  Since I teach distance education English classes, my work is all online.  I connect to my students through Blackboard and grade their papers on the computer.  When I open my internet browser, Facebook was not a home page for me, but it was a button on my browser bookmark bar that always showed at the top of the screen, calling me to check in no fewer than 10 times a day.

What could be so urgent?  I would scroll through the cute pictures, follow links to interesting articles, keep abreast of what was happening in my friends lives, all the while neglecting my work.  If my kids came down the hall, I'd feel like I got caught with my hand in the cookie jar.  I wasn't doing anything wrong but I still felt guilty.  The minutes and hours I could be spending on grading papers, cleaning my house, and most importantly, reading to and doing school with my children were being frittered away on Facebook.  The first step to recovery in any addiction program is for the addict to admit she has a problem.  However, we know that ultimately any exposure to the object of the addiction is detrimental.  I clearly have a Facebook problem. The question, though, is whether it's an addiction.

I've decided to refrain from Facebook for all of Lent, even Sundays.  I love the connectedness Facebook provides.  The quick delivery of information about events and the needs of my friends is of clear value.  However, unplugging and focusing on the people in my life seems to be where the Lord is calling me this Lent.  I pray that this time away will give me perspective and better control of my internet usage.  Information, like every tool, is a gift from God. Our usage of those gifts must be in conformity with God's will for us, which will always be accompanied by peace.  If Facebook makes you look over your shoulder like a kid with her hand in the cookie jar, clearly peace is not with your use of the gift.

Dear Lord, 

Please grant me the gift of Wisdom to recognize your will for me this Lent.  

Amen.

Snow Storm Reflection

We just shoveled out from the storm, but clearly the impact of two feet of snow goes far beyond our driveway.  A neighbor with a plow plowed part of our street and sections of the other roads that lead out of the neighborhood.  He didn't have a big truck, so the sections he completed were quite challenging.  He got stuck at least once, just after clearing half of the bottom of our driveway, so Mike helped him get unstuck.  At the same time, a car came part way down the road, turned around, waited, and then went back past the stuck truck.

Once we finished shoveling, I took a short walk to check out the streets close to us.  What a mess!  The plows have not done the neighborhood yet, so spots here and there are clear, but no long stretches of road.  I saw the man in the car again.  A few minutes later he was parked in the middle of the next street where he got out and began to shovel the middle of the road.  I approached and asked where he lived.  He lived probably 6 houses down, but couldn't get through anywhere because the plowing that was completed stopped short of giving him clear passage.  I offered for him to park in our now clear driveway and walk home, which he seemed to appreciate, but he was determined to make it through with his shovel.  He mentioned that he'd been up for 30 hours and needed to get some sleep before going back to work again.  I again offered the driveway and headed home.

I walked back to my street where I saw another neighbor shoveling alone.  The young woman said her mother couldn't help because she was in the house, sick.  I told her we were all tired from doing our drive, but if she didn't need to go anywhere today, we'd come back and give her a hand later.

For the past few days, I've been anticipating the storm.  I knew we needed to be prepared for the possibility of power outages and that we should have adequate food on hand for our family of 6.  I knew that I should grade papers and do as much work as I could for my online English classes in case the power went out and I couldn't work.

We don't know what's next now that the storm has passed--can we make it to Mass?  Can we make it to celebrate my niece's birthday tomorrow?  I just don't know.  Times like this remind me how little control I have in the grand scheme of things.  God is in control.

Storms--both real and metaphorical--help us grow.  Real storms remind us to take care of the important things, particularly our families and our neighbors.  We get out of our snug, warm comfort zones and interact with the world when we'd rather hibernate until April.  We face the challenge of shoveling 2 feet of snow and making a clear path from all exits of the house to make sure we can get out safely in an emergency.  We face the stormy winds whipping the snow back in our faces and the aching muscles and cold skin.  Then, we face it again when we realize our neighbor can't be safe unless we help her, too.

Nobody is excited about the work of cleaning up after the storm.  But nobody seems to complain too much either.  We just do what needs to get done.  When summer rolls around, I will remember the cold New England days, talking to neighbors after storms when we rake roofs, shovel driveways, and muddle through together. Storms create deeper bonds than easy days.

I've been dreaming of gardening for the past few weeks.  As I cleared a path from the back door of the kitchen to the back door of the garage, I realized it will be a while before I'm digging the earth and planting seeds.  However, this snow is good.  God created the seasons, and a good snowy winter may mean less of a drought this summer.  We did talk of moving to Florida while we shoveled and how nice it would be to live somewhere warmer.  But, of course, Florida has hurricanes which seem a lot harder to handle than snow. No region of the earth is perfect--we won't know perfection until we reach heaven.

God gives each of us our storms to weather.  When we remember he is in charge and some of what we want will have to wait or change in order to make it through those storms, we become the people he wants us to be.

Don't Be Depressed

As though someone wants to be depressed!  For anyone who has struggled with depression, it's likely they've been told to "Suck it up and move on," or "Get over it," or "Don't be so gloomy."  Easier said than done!  If you have never struggled with depression, you probably don't get it, just as I don't get what it's like to suffer from cancer or diabetes or another physical ailment I haven't suffered.  The difference with physical ailments is that they have physical symptoms that are recognizable to others.  Depression can certainly present physical symptoms, but the source for the symptoms is a reaction to what's going on in the brain.

As Catholics, we particularly struggle when we are presented with the sad situation of suicide.  Suicide is a result of despair.  How can we prevent or cure despair in the depressed individual?  Much like an addiction, the depressed individual must acknowledge a problem and seek help.  During high school and college, I had begun to despair and contemplate suicide.  If I'd been more savvy about what pills to take, I may not be here today.  Thank God for my ignorance!  I realized I had a problem and went to the doctor. At one point I admitted myself to the psychiatric ward at the hospital, but after an hour or so in the room, hearing the shouts and confused words of the others on the floor, told me I was not where I needed to be.  My doctor said I could be released since I was self-admitted, but I must promise not to hurt myself.  I promised.

When I left the hospital, I knew that wasn't the end of the depression.  I sought the help of a psychiatrist and took anti-depressants.  They helped some, but the most significant help I received was when I went to a Dominican rectory and knocked on the door.  An older priest came to the door.  I told him I wanted to die.  His kind eyes looked deeply into mine and he invited me into the rectory.  We sat and talked for a short time.  He gathered some helpful articles for me to read.  He reminded me that suicide is final and that God didn't want that for me.  He, too, asked me to promise that I would not harm myself.  Again, I promised.

A woman is only as good as her word!  Those promises kept me alive.  I don't remember the Dominican priest's name, but he more than anyone else saved my life.

One of my Facebook friends just lost a friend to suicide, a young man who had suffered with depression.  There are no easy answers.  We cannot turn back time and talk him out of it.  We cannot erase the sadness, anger, and broken hearts of the survivors.  We can only pray for his soul and for those of his family and friends who are left with memories and questions.

If you have come to my blog in search of answers for your depression, I'm not a professional, but I have a message of hope for you.  Talk to a priest--even if you aren't Catholic (yet!).  Our priests are well-trained in counseling and have much to offer in guiding you to the help you need.  Find a friend or family member who doesn't tell you to "get over it"--someone you can confide in if you suffer despair.  Then promise them you'll never hurt yourself.  Talk to them when you need to.  Keep a journal.  Sometimes writing about the things that trouble us takes the load off our minds and we can gain perspective and peace.

Most importantly, pray.  This morning as I read "Thursday, February 7, Prayer for the Morning" in Magnificat, the reflection introducing Psalm 42 said, "The psalm reflects the shifting moods of down-heartedness, questioning, and confident joy that can affect the committed believer in the face of questions and taunts of a disbelieving world.  Yet the tears and torrents of discouragement have no power over the waters of life with which God's love renews us." Today's selection begins: "Like the deer that yearns/for running streams,/so my soul is yearning/for you my God." The psalmist goes on to question where God is in my life and to say, "My tears have become my bread,/by night, by day." Yet through the suffering and despair, he concludes:

I will say to God, my rock:/"Why have you forgotten me?/Why do I go mourning/oppressed by the foe?"/Why are you cast down my soul,/why groan within me?/Hope in God; I will praise him still,/my savior and my God. (Psalm 42:10-12, emphasis added))

  Words for a new day!

If you are in crisis, please contact the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255).  They also have a "Click to Chat" option on the website.

Spring Cleaning in January

Wow do we have a lot of stuff!  My family has a small 3 bedroom ranch with a partially-finished basement which I lovingly refer to as the boys' dormitory.  My daughter and I decided recently to swap her bedroom with the home office, which had been her bedroom a few years ago.  She mentioned that she wanted her room to be green (the color she had picked when her room was in the current office space) instead of light purple.  I said, "Maybe we can paint this summer--or maybe you can just have the green room back."  I thought moving furniture would be easier than painting, and we wouldn't need to wait for warm weather to open the windows.  She loved the idea and began "cleaning" to prepare for the move.

If you read my article "Bouquets of Love" you know a little bit about my daughter.  She saves lots of useful things and is very crafty and artistic.  My husband and I share the home office.  I have a desk that's rather tiny--my choice in the hopes of minimizing the likelihood that it will be covered in stuff.  I used to have a large L-shaped desk which mostly collected stuff and wasn't terribly useful.  The new desk has just one drawer and a narrow cabinet that holds binders and answer keys for our homeschool.  Even though it's tiny, it still holds plenty of useful things.  My husband has a large desk with a hutch that holds a shelf full of books and many useful things.  In the office, we also had a bookshelf and a closet with shelves full of many useful things.  You are no doubt recognizing the trend here. The stuff would need to be moved (or permanently re-moved). Needless to say, swapping the two rooms was probably just as time consuming as painting would have been.

Mike was heading to Florida for a conference, so Elizabeth and I decided to swap closets and bookshelves while he was gone.  I thought it would be a rather simple process--pull the books, move them to the other room.  Every stack I moved seemed to multiply.  Old magazines, homeschool textbooks, readers from the first composition class I taught in 1996, lots of holy cards and greeting cards from religious orders, knickknacks, tchotchkes, trinkets (yes, those last three are redundant--as was much of the clutter).  We filled trash bags and recycling bins and donation boxes.  After many hours, the closet and bookshelf transition was complete.

Initially, I thought that we would just move the big stuff when Mike got home...until the next morning.  Elizabeth's things were in the office.  My things were in her bedroom closet. Annoying? Yes. We decided the inconvenience was unnecessary and that we should move the furniture immediately.  Did you ever notice that on remodeling and home improvement shows, they are able to move everything in an hour?  We did not have the magic of television to assist us.  We also had no men.  I don't care what the ultra-feminists say.  I like having men in my life, and I like when they pick up heavy things that are simply too cumbersome for me to move on my own or with my petite 13-year-old daughter.  Anyway, I kept looking at my husband's big desk and tried to recall how he and his friend maneuvered it into the office two or three years ago.  Before the desk could be moved, it had to be cleared and emptied.  All of the useful things were moved to my bedroom.  If the job wasn't completed that day, I'd have to sleep on the couch.

My sewing machine cabinet and the office chairs were all moved into my bedroom and the area rug was moved into the mudroom.  Once the desk was clear, I measured it a few more times (I'd already measured it and the doorway five times, hoping the results would change.  Desk: Depth: 30.5, Height 28 (without the hutch), Length: 59.5.  Doorway: 29.5, if door is removed.  Hmmm.  I honestly didn't remember the guys removing the hutch, but I have no clue how else they could have made it through the doorway.  I imagined myself as a master Tetris-player, turning the L-shaped chunkiness in a skilled angle to slip gingerly through the door across the narrow hallway to the other room.  Hmmmm.  13-year-old daughter attempted to help me lift the desk to put it on its end.  Fail.  11-year-old son attempted to help me remove the hutch.  We started to get it, but I noticed lots of nails and thought "They didn't take all those nails out--there must be another way."  We stopped and I measured again.  Feeling somewhat defeated, I told Elizabeth we needed her older brother.  She looked at the clock and said, "What time does he come home?"  It would still be several hours.  We continued cleaning the floors and purging junk.  Unfortunately, that desk had to move before we could move any of the other furniture between the two rooms.

15-year-old strong boy finally came home from school and laughed at me.  Not mean-spiritedly.  He simply said "not happening," when I told him we should be able to somehow get the desk through the door.  I measured again said that the height of the desk would fit through the doorway.  He responded, "take off the top thing and we'll move it." That was my original plan, but it seemed too involved when we tried earlier. I checked the nails again and realized they popped out easily and a couple turns of locking screws released the hutch.  Man-child easily helped me lift the desk so we could turn it and slip it ever-so-carefully through the doorway. Initially, we attempted to turn the desk to go to the other doorway.  However, the skinny hallway would have none of that nonsense.Then, my Tetris skills came in handy. I paused and pondered, trapped at the end of the hallway with everyone else on the other side of the chunky desk. We did not need to turn the desk.  It was already facing the right direction to go through the other doorway.  Move the rectangle out, over, down, and into the open space.  Success!  

With the desk finally in place, the rest of the move only took 3 or 4 more hours, which included reassembling two computers and replacing all of the useful things on and in the desks.  I slept in my bed.

My first morning with the new space proved to be productive and peaceful.  Elizabeth seems to love her new space as well.  With clean, organized rooms, we were both better able to focus on our work.  Simply having a tidy space made me less distracted throughout the day.  And the biggest bonus--my desk is next to a window that overlooks the garden, so when I'm writing I can look out at nature.

Dear Lord,

Thank you for your bounteous gifts.  Help us to use those gifts for your greater glory.  Thank you for men and boys, for their strong arms and tender hearts.  Teach them to love as you love. Thank you for girls and women with creative minds and big ideas.  Help them to use their talents to honor you.

Amen.

Girls and ADHD or ADD

This article  on www.lifescript.com reiterates what I have read in other places about ADHD.  Girls are often not diagnosed with ADHD because their behaviors are different from boys with ADHD.

Last summer I wrote Maybe I Have A.D.D. and have gotten more hits on that post than any other on my blog.  I'm clearly not alone!  Parenting Advice for Girls with ADHD focuses on school children, but we can certainly apply these ideas in the grown-up world.  The point that spoke most directly to me was that girls with ADHD are often chatty rather than unruly and bouncing around.  Guilty!  All I wanted to do in school was talk to my friends.  My mind was like a ball in pinball machine, bouncing all over during class.  My thoughts jumped from bumper to bumper, then the ball would fall in a hole if the teacher called my name.

Somehow I was able to earn solid grades throughout my education in spite of not paying close attention during many lectures.  God had a plan for me--my maiden name began with "B" and I was younger and shorter than most of my peers.  In classes with assigned seating by name or height, I often sat close to the front of the room.  I vividly remember the classes where I sat in the back, not for their academic content but for the conversations with my peers.  In college, I instinctively recognized that I must sit in the front of the room, and my focus improved tremendously.

As I continue to homeschool my three youngest children, knowing that two of them will likely be heading to school next fall, I take from this article some excellent advice and suggestions to prepare them now for the educational challenges that will face them in a room full of new people and distractions in September.  Likewise, I recognize that mild cases of ADHD can be kept in check with environmental changes and awareness.

Good Monday Morning!

If you are sick this morning, drink fluids, rest, and feel better soon--and cover your coughs and sneezes! If you are tired this morning, do your best anyway, and remember that if you smile, someone else will, too. If you are frustrated this morning, take a moment to collect yourself and try to swallow any sarcasm you're tempted to spew. If you are happy this morning, spread that sunshine! If you're reading my blog, I just offered a prayer for you to have a good day and for God to bless all of your works this day. Love, Karen