~C picked this flower for me a week or two ago, before the cold set in and snow.  I love how kids adore dandelions and totally see them as flowers and not weeds.  I know I did when I was little, despite my father’s view that dandelions were pestilence in need of eradication from our lawn.

As an adult, I adore when they are freshly picked and lovingly given to me from one of my kids.  But I have to admit when placing them in a bud vase or small glass I cynically think, they are going to close up in 15 minutes and look dead and ugly.

Here it is though two weeks later, puffed up and beautiful on the kitchen sill overlooking our bright yellow playhouse.  It is magnificent, glorious, –transformed.  Anything but dead and ugly.

I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds.  -John 12:24

I like to think of myself as that pretty yellow dandelion displayed with love in a little humble vase.  But I know that it’s only half the story, that the ugly Lisa underbelly has got to die, so I can be like that white dandelion transformed and ripe for sharing all the best parts of itself on the winds of grace…

Today was a lot.  Today I felt like a pregnant mom with 5 boys.

First there were two 9am dentist appointments.  Not just cleanings, but big stuff, a filling for one son and a tooth extraction for the other son.  There would be novicaine involved, and no nitrous oxide to ease things like our old dentist used.

I got up early to feel more prepared for this extra busy morning.  There was unexpected snow, an angry screaming preschooler out of sorts wanting daddy even though daddy already left for work, ~K mad and stompy about the two brothers that weren’t going to be on the bus with him because of their dentist appointments, scrambling to appease everyone, feed everyone, get the car warmed, the baby fed, diaper changed, dressed.  Then slippery roads, can’t make it in to drop the preschooler off at school safely, cars slip sliding all over the road.  A quick change in plans, ~R will just have to come with us too.

We make it to the dentist only 10 minutes late.  The two older boys go with their respective dental assistants as I play in the waiting room with my 4 yr old and 1 yr old, keeping them occupied and somewhat happy.  I chase ~O a dozen times as he toddles mischievously down the hall toward the exam rooms.

I pray, pray the two boys/patients will be ok and not scared or hurt during their procedures.  But I have to trust.  There is just only so much of me to go around.

Both boys come out about a half hour later, each with numb mouths, but they look ok and I am proud of them for doing it without me.  We get in the car and drive 20 minutes to drop one at one school and then the other at the other (where of course  ~R my 4 yr old wants to go to his preschool class, which isn’t going to happen because there is only an hour left and I am tired).  So more patience as I coax him out while holding ~O in my arms.  Promises of making chocolate chip cookies finally take hold of ~R’s imagination and and we make it back home.  Once there ~O takes a nap, I read to ~R and fall asleep in 5 minute snippets as he allows me to.

It has been a day where every child has taken from me in anger or in need and I have felt steadily pressed upon for something all day.

I am tired, I am weary,  I feel like a wilting dandelion sitting in a cup.

It is so hard to remember that on days like today, where I manage to give with grace, that I am closer to the white dandelion than the wilted, that in giving I am transformed.

Jesus does it so perfectly.  Man he is good.  It’s never about him, he gives in abundance.

I can’t say the same for me.

But I can get up each new day, sprout my bright yellow petals and try…

~L

The older boys have today and tomorrow off.  I love moments like this when they are engaged quietly together in some activity.  I couldn’t resist taking this photo earlier today when they were reading together through the Dungeons and Dragons book ~K got for his birthday.

I feel just so tremendously blessed to have them in my life and be mom to them.

The day is sure to be full of activity, running around, someone mad about something, someone else bored and needing redirecting, etc. but I value these small moments.  They just make life feel so full and beautiful.

~L

Kevin, the boys and I went to church last night.  It was a special service to kick off the Catholic Church’s “Year of Faith“.  I have felt tired and a bit out of sorts the last couple of days so Kevin offered to take the older kids while I put ~O the littlest to bed and got some rest myself.

While Kevin got the kids a quick meal he explained to them that he was taking them to church.   There was a fair amount of screaming from at least one child and exclamations like; “I don’t want to go!” and “Why do we have to go?!”.  Nothing too different than when we head to church Sunday mornings.  I almost felt bad for them. I don’t remember as a kid going to many “extra” services and I’m sure I would have complained at the time too, but hearing Kevin explain to them about the “Year of Faith” and how by attending this service we would be coming together with our community and that the boys presence was important to strengthen others in their faith, well he had me convicted and I knew that I needed to go and personally “show up” more than sleep.

It was a Penetential Service.  What I had recalled Kevin describing it as was a service with a group absolution portion (forgiveness of sins) and then private confessions, if you choose.

Part of my reticence was that I hadn’t been to confession in over 20 years.  I confess to God many times a day in the moment, but in front of an actual human being acting as God’s servant, no.  For about a year now I’ve thought of going, but the reality kind of made me a bit sick to my stomach.

Throughout the service the kids were a dream.  I felt so strengthened by all five of them in the pew with us.  I think it was the best they have ever behaved at church.  Taking them in this quieter than usual setting at bed time was an act of faith itself.  I was flanked by the two middle boys one at each side, under my arms like I was a mother bird.  We sang together and listened to Father ~L speak about Saint Dismas , the thief to Jesus’s right as he was hung on the cross who stood up for Jesus and in doing so acknowledged his own sins and asked Jesus to remember him in Heaven.  Father ~L spoke about how it was the very first confession.

Then the service was over…  or really just beginning.  My heart beat a little quicker.  It was announced where six or seven priests would be located in different private areas of the church.  There was no communal reconciliation as Kevin had alluded to.

One of the older boys turned to me after they had pointed out where our parish priest would be located and said with excitement and joy “Can we go to Father ~T?!”   How could I deny him confession??  My heart soared, really, that going to confession sounded so good to him.  I don’t ever remember feeling that way as a child.

I thought, “I guess I’m doing this.”.  I started to make a plan.  Do I bless myself first?  I remembered about 3 lines of the Act of Contrition, the prayer asking for forgiveness of sins that I learned as a child before my First Reconciliation (confession).  Luckily Father ~L mentioned that anyone that didn’t know what to do and hadn’t been to confession in a long time they could just go in and say “Our Lady Sent me.” (that would be Mary).  Ok, but even that felt a bit awkward to me.  At least it gave me something to go with.

We went to the front of the church, behind the altar, and stood in line.  There was a sort of vestibule where we waited and then two rooms where different priests were hearing confessions.  Kevin and our two oldest took their turns, then it was my turn.  The room we were to say confession in was down a short hall and to the left.  I went in and sat in front of our parish priest.

I stumbled in my words, I think I almost giggled, I know I smiled inappropriately.  I felt lost but eventually managed to confess some things that had been on my heart.  The process did not feel natural or comfortable, it felt funny telling someone I knew such heartfelt personal things.  I tried to look at him as the human embodiment at that very moment of God.  I  was completely without pretense, vulnerable, like Jesus had allowed himself to be on the cross.

It wasn’t till the end when the absolution came, my head bowed, and Father ~T prayed over me that my humbled spirit felt the warmth of forgiveness spread throughout my body.  I was surprised to truly feel something, but I can’t deny it.  I felt lighter.

I met the rest of the family at the back of the church where they were quietly waiting for me and we headed home.

It wasn’t till I woke at 1:30 in the morning and was replaying the night in my mind that I realized I hadn’t shut the door to the room I made my confession in.  I started wondering “Did everyone out there (about 6-8 people) hear my confession?!”.  I had a little anxiety and eventually resolved it by recognizing my humility and that perhaps if they did hear it would do them some good to witness another persons’ humanity.

At breakfast this morning I asked the boys if they could give me the lowdown on Reconciliation as I didn’t really remember.  They both told me that they didn’t remember the prayer when they went in to confession and that neither of them had thought to shut the door either.  They didn’t seem at all bothered by this.

They met God like a child and last night, so did I.

~Lisa