He Never Misses

Category: Family Life

  • Losing Shannon

    My dear friend, Janet (L) and her beautiful sister, Shannon (R).
    My dear friend, Janet (L) and her beautiful sister, Shannon (R).

    Dear Jesus,
    I do trust You, but I don’t get it. I know You love us, but wrapping my head around this is impossible. She is with You now, in arms more loving than I can imagine. Help us to trust in Your plan for all of us. Fill Connor and Danny, Jan, Colleen, Rita and Danny with grace and peace. I ask this in Your most holy name. Amen.

    He folded his little body in half, burying his face between his knees. No sound came from him but a puddle was forming on the otherwise dry sidewalk there on the bluff overlooking Lake Michigan. The grotto said, “Our Lady of Lourdes” but I thought of her that day as Our Lady of Sorrows.
    It had been two days since she died, but we were out of town and isolated from the media and friends and I couldn’t figure out how to tell my freckle faced little man. I knew he loved her. She had just taken him to Steak N Shake along with Connor, Anth, Mikey and Ty between baseball games. It’s what baseball moms do. She was the teacher who taught them all how to hold their hands when they received Jesus for the first time. It’s what 2nd grade teachers do in Catholic schools everywhere. But, she did them, as all things, with special panache, filled with a twinkle in her eye.
    Dealing with death is a fact of life, it’s true. This is different though. It broke me to think of it, and it crushed my spirit into 1000 pieces having to shatter the innocent childhood of my beautiful boy by telling him.
    “Honey?”
    “What’s going on mom? Why is no one telling me what’s going on?”
    “Sweetheart, it’s Mrs. Hall. She died, Zach.”
    “What do you mean? I just saw her. She was fine.”
    “Zach. She died. I want you to listen to me carefully. Mr. Hall died too.”
    “Mom? How? An accident?”
    “ Mrs. Hall died when Mr. Hall shot her, and then himself. It was not an accident. It’s one of the most terrible things I can imagine, Z. We can’t be sure why something like this ever happens. You know, sometimes people can’t think straight and they are really sick even though they look okay on the outside. I know you want to understand why….but for now none of us know, and we are all sad. I think we should just focus on what we can do. We can pray.”
    “I’m so so sad for Connor and Danny, Mom.”
    “I know, Z. Me too. Me too.”
    “Spread love wherever you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier.” –Mother Teresa
    She died on July 27. It’s been a month.
    I was not her Mom, or her Dad. I was not her sister or her son. I was not her nephew, niece, nor was I her best friend. I saw her frequently, and we were friends. We were “Bring Z over and swim” or “You know I am going to eat all of your sunflower seeds if you keep them there” kind of friends.

    A month feels like 5 minutes. I was expecting her to walk into the lunchroom and tease me with her smile when I was at SLDM last week with my apron on saying, “What? No Diet Coke? I bet you brought a Coke for Jan! I keep telling her that I found you first and she stole you from me.”
    She taught all three of my children and showed up every day with a smile, despite any personal hardship she might be going through on any given day. I saw her with fair clarity, and “I don’t mean to be mean” but Shannon was not perfect nor did she claim to be. Who among us is? It doesn’t change her legacy an ounce.
    What I have learned as I have prayed, watched, listened and reflected in one month is that God called her to live that “Spread love” mantra of Mother Teresa and she did it with style and substance. She was not just smiling; she was giving us all an authentic piece of God when she twinkled those smiling Irish eyes in our direction.
    My heart hurts—especially for those two boys. I pray, and then I pray some more. I try and make deals with God, and sometimes I tell Him that His plan sucks canal water.
    Today, as the one month anniversary of her death is just hours away, I find myself thinking about what Shannon would have done if a terrible tragedy had happened to me, or you, or any one of the thousands in her path?
    I know the answer right away. She would let her light shine every chance she had. She would pray with her class, give excessive numbers of hugs and she would keep on keeping on. She would spread love.
    I’m not yet ready to change my prayer. I have it memorized now.

    Dear Jesus,
    I do trust You, but I don’t get it. I know You love us, but wrapping my head around this is impossible. She is with You now, in arms more loving than I can imagine. Help us to trust in Your plan for all of us. Fill Connor and Danny, Jan, Colleen, Rita and Danny with grace and peace. I ask this in Your most holy name. Amen.

    Tomorrow’s challenge: Let your light shine. Let no one come to you without leaving happier.
    BRING IT, PEOPLE! Who’s with me?

  • Hello, Randolph Crescent Dr.

    We dug up St. Joe...thanks for helping us sell the place! NO SAINTS LEFT BEHIND!
    We dug up St. Joe…thanks for helping us sell the place! NO SAINTS LEFT BEHIND!

    “It’s been a good 12-year run” noted my succinct son Nick Fred.
    Today, we begin the work of moving the boxes to a new address. I am sitting here in my stripped down house dripping wet and taking a break. There’s something cathartic and wonderful about a fresh start. Tons of sweaty work lies ahead, but I’m feeling enthusiasm.
    My husband, however, seems to be struggling. Change stresses him out. Plus, he woke up this morning, the first day of our move, and he cannot feel his right hand. He injured his arm this week. Pain is never good– especially moving day! How are we going to do this when I can’t life anything? Is it the wrong lot? The wrong time? Did we make mistakes as we built? Is it too expensive? These are the questions I imagine in his mind.
    He’s not alone, as I worry too. However, I just read a quote that sums up my feelings on the matter.
    “Don’t worry about being worried. You’re headed out on an adventure and you can always change your mind along the way and try something else.” –Tracy Kidder
    Friends and family are priceless at these moments. Vivian is checking in and praying for us, and that’s excellent because I’m pretty sure she has Jesus ‘s cell number and everything. Ange and Katie brought dinner. Lisa, Dawn, Chris and Ann are loaning us their sons strong backs this afternoon. CAN I GET AN AMEN?! My youngest son has moved to Camp Schwegman for the week (thanks Renee and Jeff!!) and my dear friend Julie has been listening to my fretting for weeks on end.
    Did I mention that the Hounds 14U team is hosting a tourney this weekend and the Thieme family is the slacker crew not available to help at all? Our long time baseball friends on the team were gracious and understanding. Mom has packed endless boxes and helped me get the house on the market with her mad organizational genius. Both parents are coming for moral support and unboxing at the new place tomorrow. Grandpa Tom spent his entire day driving Nick to and from Cincinnati for ball games so we could attend to the move. My next door neighbor Shelley dragged 4 big rugs from the curb to keep them from being ruined when they arrived earlier than expected. Karen showed up at my door with her headband and work clothes on ready to help me box up my life. The Kiffs hooked us up with both a realtor and an insurance man we dig and didn’t even act like they were bugged when we forgot their son’s graduation gift.
    What I am trying to say is…………….WE ARE BLESSED BEYOND WORDS!
    So, it’s a short entry today. I’m placing it in God’s hands and letting Him do with our next adventure as He wishes. I’m hoping He’ll choose to use us and our beautiful new place as a safe and positive environment for the our three crazy boys and their friends, for immediate and extended family gatherings, and for always remembering to be grateful to Him for it all.

  • For Pity’s Sake, She Said…

    Easter Season is the time for Joy and Gratitude!
    Easter Season is the time for Joy and Gratitude!

    I knew it was coming.
    “Will all those married couples celebrating an anniversary in the month of May please stand for a blessing?”
    My mind flashed back to that surreal day in the ER where her body laid lifeless in front of me and his forlorn eyes looked through me as his words echoed, “We didn’t make it to 50.”
    Making no eye contact, I reached over and put my hand on his knee. He grabbed it and as couples in pews all around us announced how many years of marriage they were celebrating, my father-in-law and I just sat quietly, holding hands. This month, Jane and Tom would have celebrated 50 years of marriage.
    Sigh.
    Weirdly, this seemed like a good way to start Mother’s day to me. Together there at mass we sat, my father in law, my husband, and our three cute boys.
    My own amazing mom was due to arrive shortly, and we would casually celebrate the day with a cookout, just hanging out together doing nothing, and doing it on a gorgeous and warm sunny day delivered with love by a God who seemed to spoil me with blessings on Mother’s Day 2014.
    Nick and Drew wrote beautiful notes of thanks, and when paired with Zach’s hand drawn rainbow card, I wondered how God could choose me to mother these incredible children. As the daylight was starting to wind down, my hubby and I went on a joyride in his sporty little red car and finished the day with the most delicious margarita and a short walk downtown.
    As I headed to bed, I texted a dear friend, “If I don’t wake up tomorrow, you can tell everyone that I died happy!”
    So, this week started out spectacularly!!
    Life can be a bumpy road though, and so the past 5 days have brought quite a bit of chaos, some interior anger and a touch of impatience. At one point on Tuesday evening, I found myself at an accident scene with my 16-year-old son and two Fishers police officers, with my phone ringing requesting a home showing, and my 9-year-old son feeling like he was going to vomit.
    What happened to the convertible ride and the sunset margaritas, God? Sigh.
    It’s so tempting to focus on what’s troubling us. It’s tempting to be angry, or impatient. I don’t know about you, but for me it’s easy to forget gratitude when life doesn’t appear to be going my way. The thing is, God knows exactly where I am. He knows all about my sick little guy, my shaken new driver and his crunched car, my 13 unsuccessful house showings, the giant laundry pile, stressed out husband…and on and on. And He placed me right here, right now. So, here’s where He wants me, and it seems like whining about God’s plan is a touch counterproductive.
    For pity’s sake, don’t start meeting troubles halfway. –St. Teresa of Avila
    St. Teresa of Avila was a brilliant chick and is an inspiring saint. What makes her so amazing to me is that her advice is so accessible to me in 2014. I mean, she has a point. I’m guessing if she were here to give me some guidance, she’d suggest gratefulness to God for my MANY blessings, a joyful spirit, patience and trust.
    Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus. (1 Thess 5:16-18)
    In the spirit of St. Teresa, I’m sharing today my rather un-fancy, somewhat inarticulate prayer, offered with a joyful heart. She famously said, “You pay God a compliment by asking great things of Him.” So, here I go.
    Thanks, God for giving me a terrific father-in-law so willing to take in a sick third grader while my house is unavailable. You are amazing and awesome for keeping my son safe on the road, despite his accident and inexperience. I love you and I trust you with the circumstances of my life this day and plead with you for increased faith and the grace to be all that You mean for me to be for those around me today. Lord, You above all know my every need before I ask. Help me to love you more and to be a light for others. Please bless my family and all those for whom I have promised pray. Oh, and God? I know Your plan is the best plan and I thank You for taking great care of me, even when I grouse at you and act like a spoiled toddler. Amen.
    There’s no sin or wrong that gives man such a foretaste of Hell in this life as anger and impatience. –St. Catherine of Siena.

  • How Can We Know the Way?

    Children's Museum "selfie", including photobomb by Drew and Grandpa!
    Children’s Museum “selfie”, including photobomb by Drew and Grandpa!

    Spring Break 2014 is looking good so far.

    Two of my three favorite young men are home lounging with me and yesterday we were greeted with a lovely sighting. Grandma Kate and Grandpa Jim brought us some special visitors from Chicago. A rarely and smiley day of fun with Aunt Robbi, along with cousins Maddie and Ellie ensued. We giggled our way through the Indianapolis Children’s Museum then onto a late lunch before most of the crew headed off to see either “The Muppets” or “Noah” and I drove down to Bishop Chatard High School to catch some Guerin Catholic baseball action where son # 3 simply couldn’t be left without a fan base, despite the rain.

    Granted, it’s not sun and sand, but it’s an overflowing scoop of favorite people topped off with the angelic little toothless grin of my youngest Goddaughter, Ellie! Elle-belle is a 1st grader at All Saint’s Academy near my sister’s home in Naperville, IL.

    “Aunt Thelly. I read at thcool math. But it wathn’t even fair. The reading wath impothible. It wath full of eth-eth”

    I couldn’t stop smiling at her.  She was just like a piece of candy….you want to eat her up she is so sweet.

    “Thesse thent hith theven thons to Thamuel.” She explained.

    “Jesse sent his seven sons to Samuel?” I interpreted. “That’s what you had to read at school mass, Ellie?”

    “Yeth!”

    I mean, she’s 40lbs of sunshine that one. I couldn’t stop laughing. That moment of toothless cuteness is just a tiny window of time I now realize as my boys are all well past it. I SOOOO wish I could have been a fly on the wall at that mass. I think it’s a little rude of my sis to marry a guy from Chicago and move so far from me, actually. Don’t you agree?

    Today is Spring Break day 2 and it’s a bit lower key.  I let my two “staycationers” sleep in while I headed to 8am mass. As I was getting ready to leave, my “holy texting friend” Vivian invited me (via text of course) to come sit with she and her hubby for the mass, after which I had set up an appointment for confession.

    If I am honest, I didn’t sleep well last night. I was reflecting again on what I needed to apologize to Jesus about and I was tossing and turning. This confession seemed particularly overdue. There are loads of things every day I do or don’t do, or say, for which I know I need forgiveness. I suppose they had been piling up a bit.

    Really, though, the biggest impediment for me in being the woman Jesus means for me to be this day is my own lack of forgiveness of myself. Many times, even after I know Jesus has forgiven me, I hang on to my sin, beating myself up over mistakes big and small.

    My inner dialogue goes something like this:

    Shelly. You know better and look at you. You act like you love God but you are just a worthless sinner. What qualifies you to talk about faith with your kids or friends? You’re nothing but a hypocrite anyway.

    When it starts to sound like insanity, a broken record inside my crazy head, I know that I am overdue for some sacramental assistance.

    It’s funny what happens when I pray “Jesus, I don’t know what I need, but You do, please help me. I want to love You more.”

    “Shelly, Satan is clever. He’s insidious. He knows just what to do to disarm you. Lack of forgiveness of self, stirring up old wounds, that’s the devil. The prayer to St. Michael is a prayer of exorcism– say it. It will help you,” said my confessor very matter-of-factly.

    We talked a bit more, and he absolved me, then he handed me a book. He asked me to read it, giving me the assignment of reading the first chapter as my official penance.

    As I left my realization was that I cannot allow myself to be far from the grace of the sacraments. I need to be at mass receiving Jesus and I need more frequent receipt of the sacrament of reconciliation. Our priests are exhausted, and so I feel guilty asking for even more of their time. The thing is, that whole “the last thing Father needs is a call asking for time from a pain in the ass housewife”… that’s not righteous guilt. What that is about is Satan trying to take away what I know… by any means he can find which will work to unravel me. However, he cannot. Jesus loves me. This I know.

    “St. Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray; and do thou, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the power of God cast into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl throughout the world seeking the ruin of souls. Amen.”

    Shortly after I returned home today, I got an amazingly well timed message from a friend via email.  It was a copied little piece of a larger work of commentary on David by an author with whom I am not yet familiar named Mark Buchanan.

    I don’t believe in coincidence. God’s perfect timing is at work.

    In Louis Ginzberg’s monumental 7-volume work The Legend of the Jews, a compilation of the Jewish oral tradition, he retells the story of David in paradise. 

    According to the legend, David is the superstar of the after life, a personage of “glory and grandeur,” whose throne sits opposite God’s and from which David “intones wondrously beautiful psalms.”

    David’s “crown… outshines all others, and whenever he moves out of Paradise to present himself before God, suns, stars, angels, seraphim, and other holy beings run to meet him.”

    But the main thrust of the legend is David’s relationship with God.

    God throws a lavish feast on the Day of Judgment, and God at David’s bidding himself attends.

    At the end of the banquet, God invites Abraham to pray over the cup of wine. Abraham declines on grounds of his unworthiness.

    At the point I read this, I think, “Ok God. I’m listening. What are you doing to me today?”

    It goes on.

    So God asks Isaac, who for similar reasons declines. God then turns to Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Joshua. All beg off for reasons of unworthiness.

    Finally, God asks David to bless the cup. And David replies, “Yes, I will pronounce the blessing, for I am worthy of the honor.”

    At first blush, this is shocking as I read it. It seems brazen and delusional. Who do you think you are?

    The author goes on.

    “On second thought, this sounds biblical. The heart of the Bible’s message, muted in the Old Covenant but shouted aloud in page after page of the New, is the improbable, astonishing, breathtaking good news that I am the one Jesus loves.

    I am the tax-collector whose house Jesus had to enter, so that salvation could invade it.

    I am the leper who cried out to Jesus on his way past Samaria, so that he could speak wholeness into me and then woo me back to worship him.

    I am the lame man whose friends lowered me down through the rafters, so that Jesus could speak forgiveness and healing to me.

    I am the invalid Jesus found in a dark part of town, bed-ridden and complaining, so that he could say to me, “Get up, take up your mat, and walk.”

    I am the prodigal he saw a long way off, who ran to me, threw a feast for me, put his robe and ring and sandals on me.

    I am the elder brother who refused to join the party, and so he went out to me and begged me to come in.

    I am Lazarus, the one he raised from the dead and then invited to recline with him at the table.

    I am not worthy to bless the cup, except He makes me so.

    At great cost, all by his own doing, Jesus makes me his own, loves me without condition, forgives me without remainder, places his own name on me, puts his own Spirit in me, and goes ahead to prepare a place for me.

    He’s made me a chosen people, a holy nation, a royal priesthood, one who belongs to God.

    I am the one Jesus loves.

     Let that rattle around a bit. Then say this out loud.

    THE AUTHOR OF SALVATION IS CRAZY, MADLY IN LOVE….WITH ME.

    You’d think this would be the end of my entry for today, wouldn’t you? But for me, who is a certifiable supernatural thinker, it got even better.

    So, I read this lovely email which spoke just exactly to the sinfulness which was most bothering me this morning and I felt it was God kind of yelling at me to get it together. I quite literally took a deep breath and said ALOUD, “Thank you, God. I am listening. Your will, not mine…I get it. You love me. I love you.”

    DING.

    “One new email message has just arrived.”

    I click on it, and the email makes me laugh aloud.

    It’s from the editor of a Catholic periodical asking ME to write an article on THIS bit of scripture “How can we know the way?” (Jn 14:5).

    What took you so long, Lord? I mean, I think I agreed to try it Your way about 6 seconds ago.

    You best be sending the Holy Spirit in a big bad way if You want ME to show anyone the way to anywhere, Big Man. I can get lost on the way to the bathroom sometimes.

    Our God is an Awesome God. He also makes me laugh. And laughing makes me smile.

    SMILING? MY FAVORITE.

    And that is all I’ve got for Spring Break, day 2.

     

     

     

  • 43 Things

    God gave you a gift of 86,400 seconds today. Have you used one to say ‘thank you’? –William Arthur Ward

    That's me blowing out the candles yesterday.
    That’s me blowing out the candles yesterday.

    “You know you round up to 45 now? And 45 rounds up to 50. So basically, you are 50, Shelly!”

    Then, gleeful grins followed by cackling.

    This is the kind of grief I am getting this week. But, when you dish it out yourself, you’d better be able to handle a little ribbing. For the record, however, I think I should state that I am actually a very youthful 43 this week—contrary to what some have been told by my husband Tom and my good friend Lisa.

    In honor of the occasion of the 43rd anniversary of my birth, here are 43 things, some completely silly, some more substantive, for which I am grateful. They are listed in no particular order.

    1. Family. Yes, some of them are goofballs. But they are MY goofballs.
    2. Birthdays. Just love everything about them—yours, mine—life is such a gift!
    3. Yellow Box flip flops. Thank you, Yellow Box people for making the cutest, most comfy flip flops ever made (and making them in size 11)!
    4. The Laudate App. If you’re a Jesus girl who loves your iPhone, it’s a must have.
    5. French chemist Eugene Schueller, inventor of hair dye. ‘Nuff said.
    6. Pansies. You dudes get a bad rap. What an unfair name. Thanks for being there to usher in springtime!
    7. Teachers who don’t give homework on the weekend. It’s tiring for moms trying to pass 3rd grade for the 4th time.
    8. Books by George Weigel. He has an intelligent, faithful, and accessible voice. Love him.
    9. Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio. Yum.
    10. People who smile….cuz smiling’s my favorite!
    11. The St. Margaret’s Guild Decorator Show Home. An annual girly tradition with Mom.
    12. Kenny, who bags my groceries and cheerfully escorts me to my car at O’Malia’s grocery store!
    13. Catholic Schools
    14. Diet coke, with a lid and a straw…in a Styrofoam cup. Lent is extra-long without you!
    15. Boys playing ball outside for hours in my driveway.
    16. Jimmy Fallon. Geez that guy is funny.
    17. Happy, chill music. Stuff you can listen to while you drink your margarita too fast so it won’t melt.
    18. People who “follow me” on Twitter….because let’s be honest….they are a rare breed!
    19. The garbage man. Without him, smelly chaos.
    20. The sun. May I never take you for granted again!
    21. Mass. When Jesus is on board, life just works better.
    22. Laughter. What beautiful noise!
    23. That feeling when you know Jesus used you to help someone.
    24. Hugs. My husband actually calls me a “hug whore”. Is that a compliment?
    25. Acceptance. I’m so thankful to people who like me just the way I am.
    26. Kid President. Don’t know him? Look him up. That’s one cool little dude.
    27. Glitter. It’s just fantastic sparkly stuff and you know it!
    28. Friends. “Faithful friends are beyond price…” (Sir 6:15)
    29. Hand dancing. If it was only an Olympic sport, I’d be IN!
    30. Compliments. Accentuate the positive. Latch on to the affirmative. Just sayin.
    31. Confession. It’s like free therapy for Catholics. Brilliant invention. Forgiveness is pretty great, and that is all.
    32. People who can laugh at themselves.
    33. Dangling earrings. What’s not to love?
    34. Pope Francis. Domus Sanctae Martae, regular guy shoes, a Jesuit who chose the name Francis? He rocks.
    35. Sports. Especially games the Thieme boys are playing in. When Nick Fred crushes it over the head of the outfielder, or Z crosses someone over, or D drains another 3….then the smile.
    36. Bonfires—with marshmellows.
    37. St. Therese of Lisieux. Don’t know her? Read Story of a Soul. Saccharine, sentimental awesomeness!
    38. Chuck Lofton, WTHR-13. He just seems like he enjoys his job so much I don’t even get cranky when his forecast is a bust.
    39. Mackey Arena. Not a bad seat in the place.
    40. Songs from the old “Glory and Praise” book. Sing to the Mountains, baby!
    41. My husband’s socks. Warm, cozy, cushy. Sorry, hon.
    42. Vacation sex. (Sorry, Mom).
    43. Love. “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is from God, and whoever loves has been born of God and knows God.” (1 John 4:7)

    Mother Teresa said, “Every time you smile at someone, it is an action of love, a gift to that person, a beautiful thing. So, my birthday week gratefulness list is my attempt to smile at you, and to inspire myself (and maybe you too) to notice how big we are blessed in ways “itty bitty” as well as “ginormous”.

    This is the day the Lord has made. Let us be glad and REJOICE!

  • Shaazam, You’re Good!

    “Bracketology” as it turns out, is not a word that appears in my dictionary app.  The people at Merriam-Webster have apparently not spent enough time in Indiana during the month of March.  As we speak, there are six completed NCAA men’s basketball tourney brackets posted on my pantry door.  When the “picks” arrive from Grandma Kate and Grandpa Jim, we will have the door completely covered in scotch tape.  It’s a time of year filled with laughs and bragging rights….and the official start of spring here at the Thieme house.

    Do you want to know what is bugging me?  NONE of our teams are in the tourney.  IU, Purdue, Notre Dame, Butler, Ball State…..out, out, out and out!  Since I bleed black and gold, it’s the woeful Boilermaker program that is a tough pill to swallow.  I could go on about my opinions with how to fix that, but I doubt Purdue President Mitch Daniels is in the habit of taking the suggestions of stay-at-home moms about the future of the athletic department—which is in embarrassingly bad shape—in case I failed to adequately communicate that earlier.

    Let it go, Shelly.

    Serving burgers to grade schoolers is what’s up next on my schedule today.  Usually, I really look forward to being lunch lady.  Today?  Not so much.  You see, this morning my youngest son was sobbing before school.  I am sure he calmed when he got to school.  He’s waaaay too cool to cry in front of “the guys”.  You know when you’re upset , containing it, then you see your mom and you just lose it?  That’s my prediction for how lunchroom will go today.

    Last week, he spent two days taking I-STEP tests.  Yesterday, he did a “practice test” for the I-READ.  This test is now required in order for students to be promoted to 4th grade in the Hoosier state.  In Zach’s case, he has been getting A’s on all his reading tests in class.  Of course, that doesn’t matter a bit to the state of Indiana.  Zach is anxious because the tests are given on computers.  He isn’t comfortable with the computer test.  He has developed some test taking strategies which help him (like circling questions you aren’t sure about and underlining key sentences in text) which you can’t do on a computer.  He is sure his computer will crash.  Or, he won’t know how to work it….and of course you aren’t allowed to ask any questions under penalty of death.  Needless to say, he is pretty sure he will be in the 3rd grade until he’s 21.   That seems like pretty high stakes pressure for a 9 year old.

    I could expound at great length upon what I think of all the standardized testing and how we have taken education away from the educators and turned our kids into dots on a big bar chart.  Instead, I will spare you from suffering further under my black cloud.

    Did I mention he will see me right before he takes this “make or break” test that has him in knots?

    Let it go, Shelly.

    My washer made this morning’s laundry smell like rotten eggs.  Nick’s new car starts—sometimes.  Caesar, the neighbor’s big fluffy mutt, prefers using our yard as his “potty.”   I miss actual keys because keypads seem to hate me.   Energy-saving light bulbs?  The ones that are supposed to last like seven years?  Ugly, expensive, and mine have all burned out.  Again.  Also, you should congratulate the 3 Thieme boys when you see them.  I am pretty sure they have now officially set a record for most leaves and mud ever tracked into a house.   Impressive accomplishment, gentlemen!

    All of this junk is a little taste of what is getting to me today.   As I pondered my excessive  negativity and prayed for grace this morning, I found myself suddenly humming.

    Here’s the lyrics to a terrific song by Francesca Battistelli,(@francescamusic) whose chorus came humming out of me, without my permission:

    This is the stuff that drives me crazy
    This is the stuff that’s getting to me lately
    In the middle of my little mess
    I forget how big I’m blessed
    This is the stuff that gets under my skin
    But I gotta trust You know exactly what You’re doing
    It might not be what I would choose
    But this is the stuff You use

    Thanks, God, for reminding me that getting my underwear in a knot over the minutia of life is a useless waste of time.  Thanks for the grace to see my shortcomings clearly this day and for sending me a song to lighten my mood and knock me awake.  You gave your grumpy, undeserving daughter a beautiful gift—that song in my heart.  You are light years beyond any kind of fantastic word I can think up.  Thanks for loving me just the way I am, while challenging me to be more.  Thanks for my beautiful boys, including their filthy shoes.   I love you too.

    Off I go.  I’ll give those kids a little of what You gave me.  Promise.

    Shaazam, You’re good!

  • Oh, what a day!

    My 16 year old son, Nick, with his first car...a 2003 Hyundai Santa Fe!
    My 16 year old son, Nick, with his first car…a 2003 Hyundai Santa Fe!

    Oh what a day! Oh, what a day! 

    My baby brother ran away.

    And now my tuba will not play!

    I’m eight years old and turning gray.

    Oh, what a day! Oh, what a day!

    –Shel Silverstein

    Admit it, this is a lively little poem, huh?  It’s catchy, silly and it rhymes.  Silverstein’s work stuck in my brain when I was a girl the first time I heard it.  Anytime I exhale the words “Oh, what a day” (for reasons either positive or negative) I can’t help repeating this goofy, brilliant little poem at top speed right behind it.  Sometimes I even do it aloud, which typically elicits a stare which wonders silently about my mental capacity.

    OH WHAT A DAY!

    The forecast this gray day called for 6-10 inches of additional snow in my weather weary hometown of Carmel, Indiana.  Ugh.  But, it’s a big day here at the Thieme house, so I shook off Chuck Lofton and Al Roker with their unfriendly news of the morning and got ready to face the day.

    As the mother of a son who has reached the age of 16 years, 183 days, it happened to be the first date on the calendar where he was both eligible to receive his Indiana driver’s license AND the BMV is open.  It’s a big day.

    I’ll never forget my own Dad leaving work to come and pick me up at Central Catholic High School the day I was eligible for my license many moons ago.  Mom and Dad didn’t make me wait until a day and time that was practical…when there was no school or sports conflict, for instance.  They let their inner teenager lead the way.  I recall extreme gratefulness and pure joy!!

    OH WHAT A DAY!

    First, however, there was the carpool full of grade schoolers to escort to St. Louis de Montfort Catholic School.  As I pulled out of the parking lot, I felt a strong inner tug to stop for daily mass.   It’s something I do with fair regularity, but I lack discipline and so hadn’t necessarily planned to do so this morning.  But I have prayed much of late asking for God’s help on this weakness so the tug was all His perfect timing.  Okay, Holy Spirit, I thought.  You win.  I keep praying about how I need Your help with discipline in all things…physical, spiritual, practical.  Thanks for being loud.  I hear you.  Mass it is.

    Just moments after my arrival, in came my father-in-law.  I quickly realized God nudged me intentionally and for a specific reason.  My silent quick glance to heaven was a prayer of thanksgiving.

    “Is mass this morning being said for Jane?” I quizzed.

    “Yes. “

    We sat together, sang together, and Fr. John asked us to bring up the offertory.   It was a lovely, intimate mass and I had the opportunity to pray aloud for the souls of two cherished family members whose losses are fresh and for peace for all of us who mourn.  We held hands as we said the Our Father and we hugged at the sign of peace.  It felt like a great and undeserved gift and if I am honest my heart was aching with both the losses and the overwhelming gratitude for a God who would love me so much that He would know just how to nudge me into attendance so that I wouldn’t miss His incredibly beautiful hug this morning.

    OH WHAT A DAY!

    At midday, my oldest son got his driver’s license, picked up his first car (a 2003 Hyundai Santa Fe) and got his first tank of gas courtesy of the thoughtful and pretty terrific Dawn and Craig Miller at Indy Auto Source.  He drove himself to grab and sandwich, and he made his way home across 116th St. for the very first time all alone.  He acknowledged that his dad and I were due “some extra love” and gave me a high five.  Exuberance and joy were quite evident on his scruffy teenaged face.  I told him that if God blesses him with a family someday to remember how he felt this morning, continue to work hard in school, and pass on the moment one day to my grandchild.  I also told him I loved him and am proud of him and that he has given us no reason not to expect he will be extremely responsible with his newfound freedom.  Then, a tear I could not reign in fell down my cheek.  He smartly ignored it.

    OH WHAT A DAY!

    What else?  They poured the floor in the basement of my soon to be home today.  That job was finished moments before the snow began to fall. That would be the same snow that is not supposed to stop until nearly a foot of it has collected.  I am not a builder, nor have I recently slept in a Holiday Inn, so I don’t understand that decision.

    My friend, Kris, asked our help for her daughter at Purdue that suffered a bad fall today and was in need of medical attention.  She reached out knowing our families are both from Lafayette.  We passed along the names of a couple doctors, the best ER in town and our promise for prayers for our fellow Boilermaker.  A CT scan and X-ray later, we learned there’s no internal bleeding….Thank you God!

    My youngest forgot his reading book, my carpool partner called to warn of a problem for her 4th grader arriving home in my car, the ball games were cancelled (again), the kitchen is covered in melting snow footprints, and three friends offered to get my kiddo home from school.  Chase is sending me a new credit card because they think someone is trying to steal my identity.  Oh, and the 9 year old is thrilled I remembered the peanut butter crackers on my grocery run.

    And NOW, here comes the SNOWVERLOAD!!

    OH WHAT A DAY! OH WHAT A DAY! MY BABY BROTHER RAN AWAY.  AND NOW MY TUBA WILL NOT PLAY.  I’M 8 YEARS OLD AND TURNING GRAY. OH WHAT A DAY, OH WHAT A DAY!!

    Like moms everywhere, the life I live is completely without glitz.  It used to be that I struggled to find my worth in the invisibility that is the day to day existence of the stay-at-home mom.  Now, I realize this is the most important work imaginable and I only get one chance to give it my best shot.   I am so grateful for every silly moment of this snowy February day.  My 16-yr old gave me a high five for goodness sakes and I got to hold hands with my pretty amazing father in law and pray with him.   It doesn’t get much better than that.  This is the journey.  This is the good stuff.  Today was a crazy day filled with smiles and a few tears.

    Here’s my prayer today.  Maybe a few of you will find it suits your needs sometime.  My great honor would be if you pray along.

    Dear Jesus,

    I praise you and I thank you for my very full and often invisible life.  In each small detail, in each circumstance, I am given a chance to praise You, Lord, and thank You for loving me perfectly.  When I choose to smile through both routine and chaos with peace in my heart, grateful for the blessing of my family and friends and the life You provide me, I honor You.  Like St. Philip Neri, who was famous for his joyful spirit in right relationship with You, I invite You to be part of all the smallness of my life.  I ask Your help with the discipline and desire I need to grow in holiness and ever closer to You.

    Amen.

    And now, I’ve gotta go!!  It’s time to work the snow shovel!

    PEACE OUT!

  • Prayers for Boilermakers…

    “There’s been a shooting at Purdue today,” said teacher Cathy Cederholm as I finished up my lunchroom duty at St. Louis de Montfort today.  “I’m checking up on all my Purdue kids to make sure everyone is safe.”

    The information being released is minimal and the situation is still active at my alma mater, which happens to also be my hometown.  From here, what I can do is pray for the students, professors, campus employees and passersby who might have been in harm’s way (or feared they were) today.

    For the young Boilermakers who are out in the world on their own for the first time and now dealing with a lost sense of safety and security, and for their parents whose hearts stopped  beating until they got the “I’m safe and I’m okay” call, there’s little else any of us could do.

    Perspective

    Sometimes, it takes something extremely serious to help us with perspective.  Other times, a tiny moment does the trick.

    When my 9 year old glanced upward with that morose little face full of innocent freckles and asked me about this situation on the campus he has visited so many times, I told him that it made me sad too.   Then, I just had an honest conversation with him and his 14 year old brother.  I told them how we needed to pray for the victim and his family, and also for the shooter.  Zach looked up waiting for my explanation on that last part.  I shared how no one who understands that they are wonderfully made and truly loved by God would choose to solve their problem with a gun.

    I said, “Do you think God loves the boy who made the really bad choice today at Purdue?”

    “He’s probably not very happy with him, but He’s God and God always loves us, right Mom?”

    “Yep. That’s right, Z.”

    Most days, our challenges and concerns aren’t so incredible.  For instance, when my oldest son Nick was 4, he was timid.  On the soccer field, he stayed outside “the scrum” and watched the other kids fight it out.  He was afraid to get hurt, afraid to fall.  Learning to ride a bike was therefore a near impossibility…and his dad and I were frustrated by his inability to get out there and meet the world.  We wondered if we were failing him in some way.  His words were, “I just can’t do it!  It’s too hard.”  He couldn’t see the freedom waiting for him.  We wondered and worried about him like all parents do, especially the first time around.  It seemed like such a big deal.

    A few days after watching us and our futile attempts with Nick and his bike, a neighbor told us (and our little guy too) about her “magic bike”.  She described how her son Will had learned to ride on the “magic bike.”  “I could have Will’s uncle bring the bike back from Ohio for you to borrow if you want to try it, Nick” she gently offered.  “Yes, Mrs. Volpe, I would like to ride the magic bike.”

    Within moments of his little feet touching the pedals of the “magic bike” a couple weeks later, the walls of fear were coming down and suddenly his world was bigger and faster—and much more fun!  Freedom is delicious!!

    On that particular week  12 years ago, there was both worry and then joy for my young son, Nick as he took off on the rusty old white bike shipped in special from Ohio.  It was one of those life moments.

    Today, I received a text message from my now 16 yr old (yes, an illegal text sent to his mom from school) wondering about the safety of Will Volpe– the same kid whose bike he borrowed those many years ago, now a Purdue Senior studying engineering.

    My grandma used to say “small kids, smaller worries, big kids, bigger worries.”  How true.  It doesn’t really matter if they are tiny or if they are enormous, though, does it?  They are ours all the same and each day we must be prepared to handle what our journey brings as best we can.

    Freedom is peace of heart in the middle of the chaos

    Over oatmeal and coffee earlier in the week with a girlfriend, we discussed our children.  We talked of our hopes for them, the challenges and perils they face growing and maturing, and our need to trust that God will lead us all according to His flawless plan.  Being at peace and trusting in God’s plan, trying our best to do His will.  That’s freedom, but gosh it’s hard.  It’s especially challenging for those of us right in the middle of raising young people in 2014.

    As I wondered aloud that day about the school dance and the driver’s license eligibility date approaching, my friend shared with me that her beautiful and remarkably bright daughter frets and struggle so much over the issue of body image.  This young lady is a gifted athlete who wears a single digit dress size.  If there was ever anyone who should look in the mirror and appreciate God’s creation, it is this young lady.

    How can she not delight in it?  How can she fail to see how wonderfully made she is?

    Her mother sees all this with clarity and not a small amount of angst, yet she seems willing to walk alongside her lovely daughter with a fair amount of peace in her heart, despite the difficulties.  She is a godly mother, and to me there seems an innate need on the part of mothers everywhere to love our family by some sort of inner compulsion.  It’s how God made us.

    Our journey is perilous but we must take it if we want to be free. 

    Our children are each on their own journey, just as we all are.  The important thing is that as we walk, wherever we are, that we learn to know who we are in God’s eyes.

    Why?  Because we aren’t the author of the story, and the only thing we can count on in this life for sure is that some days are going to take our breath away and we aren’t going to get out alive.

    Who am I in God’s eyes?  I didn’t know when I was 16.  Or 30.  I was a slooooow learner.  Of course I don’t want that for my 3 boys.  I’m sure you’d rather an easier path for those you love as well.  UNFORTUNATELY, God isn’t big into sharing when it comes to authorship.  He is the Author of Life(Acts 3:15), Author of our Faith (Heb. 12:2), Author of Salvation (Heb. 2:10).

    Friends really are a gift from God and that chat felt like a God sighting along Highway Shelly.  It helped me so very much as I meandered through this Tuesday afternoon.

    Patience and humility are the words of the day.  God makes His presence known when He wishes and appears for His own reasons.  We have to be, says Fr. Robert Barron “humble and docile in his presence, ready to wait, if necessary, through long hours, days and years, prepared to hear the rush of God….when it comes.”

    For the first time maybe ever, I realized today, I feel a legitimate sense of peace.  I am not saying I don’t have significant things about me that I don’t like a bit.  I loathe that I am sometimes more concerned about me than about others.  It bugs me that I don’t get out of bed without hitting the snooze button.  It irks me that I lack self-discipline, have a bad attitude towards exercise, and that I drink too much diet coke.  I talk too loudly and check my iPhone too often.   It drives me crazy that my pride doesn’t allow me to love selflessly the way God wishes.  And seriously, what’s up with the kidneys always full of stones?

    Here’s the thing.  I don’t define myself anymore by what’s lacking in me, by the sins I commit or the suffering that is mine to manage while my God seems far away.

    Says Fr. Barron,  “When we suffer, we are like the tiny child, sadly and angrily incapable of grasping the reason for our pain, and God is like the father whose only recourse is the invitation to trust.”

    Much like my sons are each the child of a crazy lady who insists they shower and occasionally eat from multiple food groups, not to torture them but out of love, I am the child of a merciful God who is wild about me.  So are you!  Sin or imperfection cannot be allowed to define us.  That is a peace stealer and it is NOT OF GOD.  God loves me because I am His.  It doesn’t have anything to do with what I do or the parts that I don’t like.  God loves me because of who He is–and  HE IS LOVE.

    Here’s my little prayer today.

    We praise you God and thank you for making us just as we are.  We thank you for our friends, family and all those you have given to walk alongside us in this life.  Lord, we ask you to reveal your love to us and to our children in a new and profound way.  Help us look in the mirror and say, “Mighty God, I know you love me.”  Help me shine like the sun so others may see You through me.  Oh, and Jesus…please be with all the Boilermakers who need your powerful presence tonight in their minds and hearts.

    Amen.

    “Whoever is without love does not know God, for God is love.” (1 John 4:8)

  • She’s not going to make it

    Jane M. Thieme Jan. 17, 1943-Dec. 4, 2013
    Jane M. Thieme
    Jan. 17, 1943-Dec. 4, 2013

    “Come now.  She’s not going to make it…”

    I dropped the bag full of groceries on the counter and headed out the door thinking “how can this be?”

    After that, time and details are kind of muddled in my mind.  However, I woke this morning knowing that the grandmother of my boys, Tom’s mom…….Grandma Jane…….is gone.

    Sure, she had been ill.  Yes, she struggled physically.  But, she just baked Drew his favorite pumpkin pie for his birthday.  She was going to the Yuletide show this weekend.  She was headed to Chicago.  How can she be gone?

    Today, this reality is coming over me in waves.  SIGH.  I guess I just needed to type it and see the words come across the screen in front of me today.  So, forgive me for being a touch inarticulate and not terribly inspiring.  This entry?  Well it feels cathartic, so I’m sorry for your luck if you were in the moody for sunshine.

    The funeral was Saturday.  Our parish wrapped us in love and helped us say goodbye.  They anticipated our needs, they fed our family, and our two priests were present to walk alongside on a truly difficult day.  I am grateful for my church.  Catholics know how to say goodbye in the most meaningful and lovely way.

    This is going to be hard.  How can my father in law be okay when half his heart is gone?  I’m not sure.  God’s grace is sufficient says St. Teresa of Avila.  Gosh I hope she’s right.

    THE EULOGY

    Below is a copy of the eulogy.  As my brother in law Jerome aptly put it, I was “voluntold” by the family to write and deliver it at her funeral mass.  I share it here at the request of several.  If there’s anything here of meaning or comfort to anyone, all glory goes to God.

    Good morning.  On behalf of my father-in-law, Tom, as well as Jennie, Mary, my husband Tom and the rest of the family, I want to open by saying thank you.   The sense somebody cares always helps, because that sense is Gods powerful love…and your presence here today is a very great gift you have given us for which we are truly grateful.  Your time, prayers and attendance at this special mass for Jane are the tangible presence of Christ holding our hands as we give her back to Him.

    Since there is absolutely no adequate way to try and do justice to Jane’s big personality in the 3 or 4 minutes I have this morning,  I am just going to remember some of her greatest gifts and how they blessed all our lives.  I’ll start with her insatiable need to seek out the newcomer.   Jane loved to welcome new faces, and did it in her own fantastic way.  We kind of joked when anyone new showed up at a family dinner or event….”here comes her fresh meat!”

    The very first time I visited her home I was 15 years old.  She took one look at me and said, “Well Shelly, that skirt is darling…but you need to come back here to my room so we can look through the jewelry box for a better pair of earrings.  Those silly things you’re wearing are waaay too small.”  In a way that only Jane could pull off, she immediately killed the awkwardness of my greeting the boyfriend’s mom with her own version of “what not to wear.” 

    I have heard so many stories the last few days about her sunny hospitality and unique brand of warmth towards co-workers, cousins, friends, neighbors, old boyfriends….it seems everyone has a “Jane story”, and all of them make people smile. 

    Jane’s heart was soft for anyone down on their luck.  In fact, right this very minute our South Haven cottage handyman is sleeping in her Michigan cottage bedroom because he didn’t have another place to go.  So, over Thanksgiving, she offered him her pillow and a warm place to sleep in exchange for some painting and repairs. 

    This was not new behavior.  On the morning of December 25th many years ago, I was told she noticed a young high school kid milling around outdoors.  His home situation was difficult and he had moved in for a time with the neighbor down the street.  He was locked out I think, and without a Christmas plan…until he ended up at Jane and Tom Thieme’s Christmas morning breakfast on Saw Mill Road.  .  I have no doubt the tree was perfectly trimmed that morning, and I am sure the homemade centerpiece on the table would put Martha Stewart to shame.   I can’t remember his name, but I do recall it gave her great joy to see him on the field playing football for Purdue a couple years after their chance encounter, knowing he was in college and doing well.  Jane had a gift for hospitality. 

    Did I mention she was an extrovert?  She charged her batteries by being with other people.  Her favorite person was, without question, her partner of 49 years, Tom.  She once said to me, and I will never forget it, that if she had been on a quest to marry the most thoughtful and hardworking man in the world, she couldn’t have done any better.  With Jane at his side in all her vivaciousness, I feel safe saying he met and interacted with thousands of people he might never have otherwise encountered.  They always seem to be so comfortable with each other, balancing each other, that their example of a holy marriage will always be to us a beautiful influence in our own lives.

    What else?

    When I listened to Mary Jo, Jennie, and Tom talk the last couple days, I heard about all the summer fun in South Haven when they were kids because to her, things like an extra day of vacation and great games of charades were priorities.  That led to a chat or two about the more recent fun in Michigan had by Thomas, Katie, Nick, Drew and Zach along with us, their parents, and Jane and Tom, orchestrated utterly by her grand plan of cottage ownership about a decade ago.  She handled the bills, she scheduled the repairs, she managed the details none of us wanted to take on…………so that the family could be together, smiling, eating Sherman’s and watching the sunset.

    If Jane could speak to us today, I think the first thing she would say is, “Oh, I don’t want all this fuss over me.”  Oh, but she really would.  She would adore the fuss as much as she loved each of you who touched her life in ways big and small.

    One last thing. Jane did some suffering too.  Her cross seemed especially heavy during many moments the last couple of years.  We weren’t prepared to lose her.  Our hearts weren’t ready.  So, for those of us who have ever thought about saying to God, why this?  Why now?  I have this thought.

    An interviewer asked a young man who had been through extreme suffering and was facing death if he had ever questioned God about why He allowed this to happen.  The young man answered, “Yeah, I ask God why all the time.  Why out of all the people in the world did you choose me?  Because now I am going to spend eternity with you!”

    What an amazing perspective. 

    I leave you with a prayer inspired from psalm 39, which will maybe help us remember how important it is to live simply, not taking ourselves too seriously……….but by loving each other and our God in the light of eternity.  

    Lord, remind me how brief my time on earth will be.

    Remind me that my days are numbered—how fleeting life is.

    You have made my life no longer than the width of my hand.

    My entire lifetime is just a moment to you, each of us is but a breath.

    With you, my God I long to live forever.

    May Jane’s soul and the souls of all the faithful departed rest in peace. 

    AMEN.

  • Let’s Start an Intention Avalanche!

    In her book “Come Be My Light”, Mother Teresa shocked the world with the revelation of her deep interior darkness.  During this time, God used her radiant smile to shine one of the brightest lights of modern times on countless people all over the world.  This is what came into my mind today when a positive and faith filled friend sent out a message this morning which gave me pause.  I want to share part of it with you.

    Everyone will go through some hard times at some point.  Life isn’t easy.  Just something to think about…Did you know the people that are the strongest are usually the most sensitive? Did you know the people who exhibit the most kindness are the first to get mistreated? Did you know the ones who take care of others all the time are usually the ones who need it the most? Sometimes just because a person looks happy, you have to look past their smile and see how much pain they may be in. To all my friends who are going through some issues right now–Let’s start an intention avalanche.

    The sentiment expressed here is a bit sad but truly lovely at the same time.  I read it as a call to pray for all of those around us, especially those who smile at us radiantly.  Every person—family member, neighbor, colleague– in our path was put there by our all-knowing and loving God.  We have to care enough to pray for them, love them, even though they may not ask.

    The note above was sent by a sparkly and positive person– a mom– that I regularly encounter.  I am ashamed to say that I cannot recall having before offered a single prayer for her.  You see, she seems to be doing just great, and she never asked.  That’s not okay.  A friend shouldn’t have to look miserable or advertise their illness or struggle in order to be “prayer worthy”.

    “Love one another deeply, from the heart.”  –1 Peter 1:22

    Admittedly, I get a fair number of prayer requests.  I consider this a great honor and privilege, and I also think it’s just the influence of my big personality.  I make  “friends” with bank tellers and bag boys and small talk with coaches and kindergarteners.  Just yesterday, for example,  I found myself searching for prune juice at O’Malias with a cute old guy who was a bit turned around and couldn’t find the juice aisle.  I thought I knew where everything was at that store, in fact, until tested on the prune juice.  But, my new bff, Stanley, and I did find it! The “never met a stranger” gene is a gift inherited from my Dad.  Is this a blessing, or a curse?  Ha?!

    This kind of giftedness, however, should not be mistaken with the kind of faithful friendship that is possible when we open our lives and hearts up to others.  We have to be willing to take the risk of vulnerability when we lay out the welcome mat to our hearts.  This is why I work hard to honor all the prayer requests, even if it means that I offer a single “Glory Be” on my busiest days for a particular intention.  Someone has usually risked revealing fear or genuine interior desire when they ask for prayer, after all.

    However, today’s message made me realize, that’s not going to cut it.

    “Blessed are they who have the gift of making friends, for it is one of God’s best gifts.  It involves many things, but above all, the power of getting out of one’s self and appreciating whatever is noble and loving in another.”   — Thomas Hughes

    When we look up from our own lives to notice those around us, we have the opportunity to multiply joy or divide grief.  We have to understand silence sometimes speaks loudly too.

    It used to be when I heard about this idea of “prayer without ceasing” that I pictured pious little nuns with bloody knees.  It didn’t make the idea of being near God all day long sound like anything but a crummy idea.

    Here’s what I think about prayer now.  Prayer is speaking to God in the quiet of our hearts, but it is also sneaking in the back door to do the dishes of the neighbor who hasn’t asked but needs the help.  It’s keeping your girlfriend’s kiddo, it’s sending a birthday card, a sunny text message to a teenager, making a breakfast date, or popping in to grab a hug.  These things take time, it’s true.  That too is a prayer though, and it honors God in a way that is possible for minivan moms like me.

    “Whoever refreshes others will himself be refreshed.”  –-Prov 11:25

    Today, to thank God for the special people in my life, I am going to pray by action.  I choose my sparkly friend who today selected a unique way to say “help me.”  I am honoring her by letting her know how I see Jesus through her, that I am thinking about her, and that I am thankful for the friendship.  I hope she will feel Jesus hugging her with my hands.

    “There are so many hurts that circumstances and the world inflict upon us, we need the constant reinforcement of encouragement.”  –Billy Graham

    To all reading this today:  Know that you are loved.  Don’t ever forget that Love came all the way down here to earth to help us in our helplessness.

    Now, pass it on!  Get busy!