GIFTS IN THE RUBBLE

friday five...a day late (well, a few minutes late!)

2012-02-25T00:31:00.000-06:00

Emptiness Friday Five.....

This Friday five comes courtesy of Sally over at RevGalBlogPals! (You don't think I could come up with something like this myself, do you?)

I have been pondering this Friday Five over and over in my mind, but I am coming up with nothing, so I am wondering; what do you do when you feel empty of all creativity and unable to make/do anything? This is a completely open question, the only rule is name 5 things that fill/ inspire you:

Well, this is a tough question for me to answer, given the way I've been feeling physically/emotionally/ spiritually these last few months, so perhaps this is just the time for me to give this a whirl.

1. Being surrounded by my family. Although I'm an only child, my dad was the third eldest of eleven children, so I grew up surrounded by aunts, uncles, cousins, second cousins, great-aunts, great-uncles, and at the center of it all, my grandmother, the most warm, generous, and loving woman I've ever known. So then I wound up marrying a man who, amongst his other stellar qualities, just happens to have almost as many cousins as I do! (I have 44.) Not to mention he's the baby of six siblings. Our wedding was huge. and, incidentally, I'm a proud great-auntie myself now, several times over. And now I'm in contact with both sides of my birthparents' families, who, yes, are also part of large extended families. Naturally. I have more family than I know what to do with! And I love it, especially now that my folks are gone, because to me, family is home and love and laughter.

2. Walking, sitting, gazing out on the water of the North Shore of Lake Superior. It soothes me, slows down my mind and body, and fills me with the presence of God.

3. Feeling forgiven, truly forgiven, whether by another human being or by God. It is the only thing that heals the brokenness I feel inside when I know I have wronged someone, whether it be by "what I have done or by what I have failed to do."

4. Going through my parents' old pictures, letters, etc. It never fails to bring back floods of memories, some sad, some happy, most of which make me laugh until I cry. Which reminds me that I HAVE to get my hands on that new set of Laurel and Hardy movies, even if it is astronomically expensive. After all of the hours the three of us spent watching those movies...

5. Doing something for someone else. During the Depression, my Grandma Resch never, ever turned a hobo away when they came by asking for food, despite the family's poverty and all of the mouths she had to feed. She always found something to fix for them, and even something extra to make the plate look nice. My parents carried on this tradition, and one of my biggest frustrations of my current run of migraines is that I'm stuck at home all of the time, which keeps me from doing any of the things I'd normally do to pay it forward, so to speak. After all, I didn't choose the Prayer of St. Francis for both of my parents' remembrance cards for nothing. I chose it as words to live by.

two truths and a lie

2011-02-25T00:45:00.012-06:00

Well, it looks as though I am being dragged back into the blogosphere despite a monster migraine, lured by my friend Liz over at Random Thoughts of a Lutheran Geek, who is running a "Two Truths and a Lie Blog Carnival" this weekend, darn her. It's based upon the childhood game where you tell three truths about yourself, except that one, of course, is a lie, and everyone else has to guess which one the lie is. We usually played it at slumber parties and, truth be told, I was never very good at it, because I always blushed (the curse of the Irish for you) and giggled when I told my lie. At least here I have the advantage of not being seen!

So, here are my three, um, truths:

1 I thought about becoming an Episcopalian priest.
2. I was once engaged to the son of a millionaire.
3. I was once interviewed on MPR.

So go to the comments section and make your guesses! And then play along on your own blog, link up and hop around the blogs to get to know each other better. We will reveal the correct answers on our original posts on Monday February 28th so stop back to see if you were right!

Note: I revealed my correct answers in my comments section by mistake. You will find that I like to be different. Or difficult, depending upon your interpretation! And I was late besides--oops!

seventeen years??????

2010-01-15T13:29:00.007-06:00

My dad's funeral was 17 years ago today. It's amazing to think so much time has passed, when I thought I could never live without him. But I discovered that I can, because he is now a part of me and I am never alone, never without him, and I know that he will never be truly lost to me. St. Leonard, a member of the communion of saints. It's not that I don't still grieve, and sometimes I miss him so much my heart, literally, aches, but the grief has changed; gradually, the comfort of my memories and my sense of his presence has finally outweighed the pain. Most of the time...

Certain smells, certain moments when I feel unloved, certain aspects of the Christmas rituals, and hundreds of other ordinary details of life, will reopen the wound. But at least now I can let it bleed for a while and go on. At least now I can be open, not only to those painful moments, but also to the many joys of my life.
--Joyce Barrington

Haiti

2010-01-14T14:27:00.005-06:00

Tuesday afternoon, I was slumped on the couch, watching cable, stuffed full of antibiotics and feeling quite sorry for myself. A sinus infection, infections in both ears and both eyes; I felt (still feel) like one big oozing infection. Then the news of the Haiti earthquake came over the news. Looking at my full medicine cabinet, not to mention my full cupboards and my nice comfy bed, knowing where my loved ones are and that they're okay, makes it tough to feel truly sorry for myself.

If you want to help, consider donating to Catholic Relief Services--they do great work!

CRS Commits $5 Million to Haiti’s Quake Survivor Relief

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books: 2009

2010-01-03T13:56:00.012-06:00

The Eucharist and the Hunger of the World, Monika K. Hellwig
Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews, Paula Fredriksen
The Misunderstood Jew: The Church and the Scandal of the Jewish Jesus, Amy-Jill Levine
Fortress Introduction to The Gospels, Mark Allan Powell
Social Science Commentary on the Synoptic Gospels, Bruce J. Malina and Richard Rohrbach
John, the Maverick Gospel, Robert Kysar
Written that you May Believe: Encountering Jesus in the Fourth Gospel, Sandra M. Schneiders, IHM
The Middle Ages, Morris Bishop
Models of the Church, Avery Dulles, SJ
The Sacred Pipe, Joseph Brown
A New Christian Paradigm: The Making of Post-Protestant Christianity, Ben M. Carter
Jesus and the Quest for Meaning, Thomas H. West
The Church Unfinished: Ecclesiology Through the Centuries, Bernard K. Prusak
Salt: A World History, Mark Kurlansky
Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World, Mark Kurlansky
Jesus as a Figure in History: How Modern Historians View the Man from Galilee, Mark Kurlansky
Paul--A Jew on the Margins, Calvin J. Roetzel
The Spirituality of Paul, Thomas H. Tobin
Navigating Paul: An Introduction to Key Theological Concepts, Jouette M. Bassler
Angela's Ashes, Frank McCourt
The Hollow Crown: A History of Britain in the Late Middle Ages, Miri Rubin
Anam Cara: A Book of Celtic Wisdom, John O'Donohue
The Lost: A Search for Six of Six Million, Daniel Mendelsohn
Whitethorn Woods, Maeve Binchy
Saxons, Vikings, and Celts: The Genetic Roots of Britain & Ireland, Bryan Sykes
The Shadow of the Wind, Carlos Ruiz Zafon
The Rule of Four, Ian Caldwell and Dustin Thomason
The Children of Henry VIII, Alison Weir
On Hitler's Mountain: Overcoming the Legacy of a Nazi Childhood, Irmgard A. Hunt
My Life with the Saints, James Martin, SJ
The Monster of Florence: A True Story, Douglas Preston with Mario Spezi
Sailing the Wine-Dark Sea: Why the Greeks Matter, Thomas Cahill
How the Irish Saved Civilization, Thomas Cahill
Christianity Rediscovered, Vincent J. Donovan
Doors to the Sacred: A Historical Introduction to Sacraments in the Catholic Church, Joseph Martos
The Catholic Myth: The Behavior and Beliefs of American Catholics, Andrew Greeley
The Amber Room: The Fate of the World's Greatest Lost Treasure, Catherine Scott-Clark and Adrian Levy
No Place Like Home, Mary Higgins Clark
The Great Influenza: The Epic Story of the Deadliest Plague in History, John Barry
The Last Knight: The Twilight of the Middles Ages and the Birth of the Modern Era, Norman Cantor
Soldier from the War Returning: The Greatest Generation's Troubled Homecoming from World War II, Thomas Childers
The Basque History of the World, Mark Kurlansky
Catherine the Great: Love, Sex, and Power, Virginia Rounding
Elizabeth and Mary: Cousins, Rivals, and Queens, Jane Dunn
Devil's Brood, Sharon Kay Penman
Falls the Shadow: A Novel, Sharon Kay Penman
Queen Emma and the Vikings: Power, Love and Greed in 11th Century England, Harriet O'Brien
Time and Chance, Sharon Kay Penman
Dragon's Lair, Sharon Kay Penman
The Queen's Man: A Medieval Mystery, Sharon Kay Penman
When Christ and his Saints Slept, Sharon Kay Penman
The Reckoning, Sharon Kay Penman
The Sunne in Splendor: A Novel of Richard III, Sharon Kay Penman
The Year 1000: What Life was Like at the Turn of the First Millennium, Robert Lacey and Danny Danziger
Here be Dragons, Sharon Kay Penman
Walking on a Rolling Deck: Life on the Ark, Kathy Berken
The Civilization of the Middle Ages, Norman Cantor
Mistress of the Monarchy: The Life of Katherine Swynford, Duchess of Lancaster, Alison Weir
Lucia: A Venetian Life in the Age of Napoleon, Andrea D. Robilant
A Venetian Affair: A True Tale of Forbidden Love in the 18th Century, Andrea D. Robilant
The Gift of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels, Thomas Cahill
Restoration London: From Poverty to Pets, from Medicine to Magic, from Slang to Sex, from Wallpaper to Women's Rights, Liza Picard
The Seville Communion, Arturo Perez-Oerveto
In the Wake of the Plague: The Black Death and the World it Made, Norman Cantor
The Lady Elizabeth: A Novel, Alison Weir
Faith and Treason: The Story of the Gunpowder Plot, Antonia Fraser
Blue Iris: Poems and Essays, Mary Oliver

This year's list is dedicated to some of my favorite fellow bookworms: Aunts Barb and Jo, Emilie, Liz P., Liz H., Roxane S., and Kristine.

But most of all, this list is dedicated to my darling sister-in-law Fran, who shares my intense love of books and often subsidizes my Barnes and Noble habit, and to my mom, who instilled in me a love of the power of words and the magic of language, as well as an intense curiosity about the world around me.

the red thread

2009-11-07T18:18:00.008-06:00

This is going to be a very short post, just an update on our baby situation.

To make a long story short, we are no longer trying to get pregnant. As it turned out, I simply couldn't handle being off of my fibromyalgia medications. My muscle relaxers, Advil, Excedrin, and trazedone (a sleeping medication commonly used to treat fibromyalgia) are all, without question, definitely verboten for anyone trying to get pregnant. And without them, I've wound up in one of the worst fibromyalgia flares in years. I've been in too much pain to function: unable to dress myself, drive the car, cook, get myself to class, type on the computer. So, after talking it over with my husband and my physician, the three of us made the decision that, for me, pregnancy is simply not an option. (If anyone has any doubts about whether or not fibromyalgia is a real, debilitating chronic pain syndrome, check out the mayo clinic website or web md.)

I feel as though I have lost an actual baby, not just the hope of one. I loved this sweet, precious little child, our little red-haired girl; she was planted firmly in my heart and mind, in my very being, and the grief of knowing that she will never come to exist is overwhelming right now.

But I know that I will survive this. And George and I KNOW that there is a child out there, waiting for us, waiting to become part of our family. In a funny way, being adopted myself, adoption, rather than pregnancy, seems like a normal way of becoming a family. So that is the plan.

I'm going to close with a quote I have propped up against my keyboard as I write; it was sent by a good friend when she and her husband adopted a little honey from China, and I have a feeling it's going to be my mantra for some time to come.

"An invisible red thread connects those who are destined to meet, regardless of time, place, or circumstance. The thread may stretch or tangle, but will never break."
--An ancient Chinese belief

Please keep us in your prayers, if you are so inclined.

a window opens

2009-08-22T20:55:00.006-05:00

There is an old saying that when God closes a door, He opens a window. And every once in a while, it seems to come true...

I went in to see my doctor a couple of weeks ago for a medication recheck and, somehow, the conversation drifted to babies. Our Philippines adoption plans fell through earlier this summer--not only are they no longer accepting applications for toddlers, but, according to our adoption counselor, they are about to add medical restrictions. Just about every country we've looked at now refuses to accept parents on anti-depressants. The only country that would possibly accept us is Russia--for a price tag of 30 grand+ and therefore not even within the realm of possibility for us.

So I'm crying, sharing all of this with my doctor, when suddenly she said, "Barbara, have you thought about trying to get pregnant again?" (I should explain here that we did try for a few months about two years ago, after consulting with a genetic counselor and a perinatologist. However, at the time--this was before I went to my beloved pain clinic--I was having chronic migraines. Not exactly conducive to babymaking. So we quit and decided adoption would be easier. Little did we know.)

According to my doc, all the signs indicate that I'm still fertile (I'll spare everyone the gory details) and, despite my seizure disorder, history of depression, asthma, etc., the risks are manageable. I'd still be considered a high-risk pregnancy and need to be under the care of a perinatologist, but chances are more than good that we'd have a HEALTHY BABY!!!!!

IN PRAISE OF FOLIC ACID
The biggest risk to the baby is neural tube defects, such as spina bifida. This is thanks to my anti-seizure medications, which change the way the body uses folic acid; however, taking 4 mg of folic acid by prescription drastically lowers the risk. Yes, gals, that's 4 MILLIGRAMS. And it's been proven to work! (Otherwise I would never even consider pregnancy.)

So our quest begins. If anyone has any advice for me, PLEASE don't hesitate to share!!! I figure that in a way I'm lucky after all that all of my friends have had babies before me--lots of experienced women out there for support!!

And if we can't have a baby this way, then we'll adopt through the MN Waiting Children Program. So come hell or high water, we are going to have a family!

top ten things i learned from my mother

2009-07-28T18:22:00.001-05:00

THIS IS FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO KNEW AND LOVED MY MOM:

Top Ten Things I Learned From My Mother
(In No Particular Order)

She always told me that love is the only thing that really matters. You can lose your possessions, your job, and your health, but you can always hold on to the love. And in the final analysis, it's the only thing that makes life worth living.
Decorate your house with bookcases, because you can never have too many books! Nothing ever seems quite so bad if you can curl up with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa.
Class is not determined by money or social position; rather, a truly classy person is one who goes out of her way to make others feel comfortable and special. Classy people are warm and gracious.
You'll never get old if you are always interested in other people and continue to learn new things.
Life isn't fair. But that doesn't mean it can't still be good, even wonderful, if you retain a sense of gratitude and remember what really matters.
God does not send us tragedy and pain. But he does give us the strength to bear them, the courage to face them, and the grace to learn and grow from them.
Listen to your heart and follow your star. You never know where they might lead you!
Yes, you are your brother's--and your sister's--keeper. Always remember that "whatsoever you do unto the least of them, that you do unto me."
What others think of you doesn't matter. It's what you think of yourself that counts.
It takes more muscles to frown than to smile--and holding a grudge takes too much energy.

Plus Two Extra:

Never, ever, take the people you love for granted. And never hesitate to say "I love you."
Tough times don't last. But tough people do.

(NB: This is from the eulogy I gave at my mom's funeral on April 19, 2007)

friday five: the fork in the road

2009-02-27T14:18:00.009-06:00

Friday, February 27, 2009

Friday Five: The Fork in the Road

"I am at a life-changing juncture. I do not know which way I will go, but I have been thinking about the times, people and events that changed my life (for good or ill) in significant ways. For today's Friday Five, share with us five "fork-in-the-road" events, or persons, or choices. And how did life change after these forks in the road?"

Okay, Singing Owl, here are my five forks in the road:

1. I didn't have a lot of say in this one, being five weeks old at the time, but the first big fork in my road came when I was adopted by Millie and Leonard Resch on October 24, 1968. It turned out to be a 38-year-long love story, lasting until my mom's death in 2007. I could not have been more blessed, both by the mom and dad who loved me and raised me, and the mom who loved me so much she was willing to give me up. I love all three of them, my wonderful parents, more than words can express.

2. At 19 I was diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and clinical depression. This led to years of therapy and, even more important, much painful soul-searching, trying to figure out where God was speaking to me in my suffering. And I found out that not only was he there, he was holding me, lovingly, and feeling my pain as his own.

3. At 27 I did a unit of C.P.E. (Clinical Pastoral Education), which is, basically, an intensive chaplaincy internship. It's impossible to sum up in only a few sentences what that summer meant for the rest of my life...suffice it to say, I fell in love with the work, am finally back in grad school (after years of struggling with fibromyalgia), and hope to work as a hospice chaplain once I get my degree.

4. When I was 32 I met my husband through mutual friends at the Basilica of St. Mary. Can you say instant lightning? We've been married for five years and he's my rock, the light of my life, and on many days, especially when my depression is bad, the reason I get out of bed. Our marriage tells me a lot about God's love for us--steadfast, constant, always forgiving. We want to adopt so we can share the love with which we've been graced with a special child.

5. Two years ago in April my beloved mom died of emphysema. I am still so lonely for her. But in the midst of her dying, she taught me, by example, what it means to have lived a good life, and what it means, for a person of faith, to go to meet her Creator. (Check out "top ten things I learned from my mother" under "select posts" near the top of the right-hand sidebar.)

Come on ladies, play along with me! Either on your own blogs, or in the comments box. :)

RevGalBlogPals Friday Five: Pets

2009-02-13T14:48:00.007-06:00

Friday Five: Pets

(Per Sophia over at RevGalBlogPals...) My son's tiny beloved lizard, Elf, is looking and acting strange this week. His skin/scales are quite dark, and he is lethargic. We are adding vitamin drops to his lettuce and spinach and hoping and praying that he is just getting ready to shed his skin--but it's too soon to tell. Others in the ring have also been worried about beloved pets this week. And, in the saddest news of all, Songbird has had to bid farewell to her precious Molly, the amazing dog who is well known to readers of her blog as a constant sacrament of God's unconditional love.

So in memory of Molly, and in honor of all the beloved animal companions who bless our lives: tell us about the five most memorable pets you have known.
Come play along with me--either post your answers on you blog or, better yet, in the comment box! (Sorry to post this a day late--I fell asleep too early last night to finish.)

Barbara's Memorable Pets:

1. When I was about six, I adopted an earthworm from my dad's garden and named him Casey, after the boy at school I had a wild crush on. I loved Casey (both of them, actually.) One hot summer day, I devised a raft for Casey (the worm) on a small piece of torn-up shingle, and took him for a boat ride in a mud puddle in our driveway. My parents, watching from the window, decided it was about time for me to have a real pet, and that's how Bridget came into our lives. The Casey story does not have a happy ending, though: Casey the boy moved away, and Casey the worm received a ceremonial burial in the rose garden.

2. We got Bridget, a miniature poodle (almost big enough to be a standard) through a group called Pet Haven, almost immediately after the Casey incident. She was, truly, my best friend for all of my growing up years; talk about representing God's unconditional love. We took her everywhere with us. She was also brilliant--my dad loved teaching her tricks. One of his (their, I should say) favorites was teaching her to scratch fleas on command. She didn't have fleas, you understand. I thought about trying to get her on David Letterman's Stupid Pet Tricks, but never got around to it. When I came home from my scoliosis surgery, in terrible pain I went to bed immediately, and Bridget hopped up on the bed and very carefully and gently arranged herself so that she was nestled against me, head on my shoulder, magically, without hitting any of my painful spots (and there were plenty, believe me.) We had to put our beloved Bridget to sleep right after I graduated from college; she was 15-years-old.

3. About a year later we (mom and I) found my darling Molly, a cocker spaniel, at the Golden Valley Humane Society. I knew from the second I laid eyes on her that she was the puppy for us. She was picked up as a stray, and had apparently been abused. Molly had the absolute sweetest nature I have ever seen in a dog, and in a special way, we were soulmates. She could always tell when I was depressed, or my fibromyalgia was acting up, and she was always right there to comfort me. She also had a thing for flowers--we were always catching her out in the backyard sniffing them. When we had to put her to sleep, at the age of 14, (she had an abdominal cancer), we spread her ashes amongst the flowers she loved so much. I love to think of her resting there, helping the flowers grow.

4. Warning: Do not let young children read this fish horror story. In my late twenties I decided I need some fish to help keep me company. So I trotted off the the pet store, purchased my little tank and fish goodies, and then selected my fish. I don't remember the name of the breed (Bellas, maybe?), but they were stunningly beautiful, and the store owner assured me they were a very passive breed of fish, and not likely to harm each other. (Does anyone sense some foreshadowing here?) I enjoyed watching them swim about in their tiny tank, weaving in and out of the fronds of the plants I had so carefully purchased for their swimming pleasure. But soon, I began to notice that a few of my fish seemed to have disappeared. Then, one traumatic day, I caught the fish villain in the act: he was devouring another fish. The story only gets worse from here. A fish execution by toilet, remaining fish obviously suffering from PTSD. I'm not sure what this was supposed to teach me. That fish can be possessed? That the reality of evil extends even to little aquariums?

5. Luckily, my last pet story reaffirms my belief in the goodness of creation. My darling Fiona, the Uber-cocker spaniel, curled up against my bare feet as I type, is my best furry friend and provides me with all the loving, unconditional care anyone could possibly need. When my mom was dying, and I'd come home from the nursing home in tears, Fiona was right there waiting for me. And after mom died, for weeks the little fluffy creature wouldn't leave my side; she clung to me, staring up at me with her big brown eyes that telegraphed her doggly love and concern. Fiona also loves to play; every single day, without fail, we must--and I do mean must--play with each of her toys in turn. She so loves her toys. She is my cuddly darling, and I hope to someday be the person she thinks I am.

check out my new widget!

2009-02-12T17:23:00.005-06:00

For all of my friends, bloggy or otherwise, I would like to draw your attention to my new and exciting widget, near the bottom of the right-hand sidebar. It's a nifty little tool that indicates to the world that people actually read my blog. So if you occasionally stop by, or faithfully read each new post, or just come by to check it out and like what you see, I invite--no, I plead with-- you to sign up as a "Follower." Let me emphasize: it costs nothing. no obligation. You are not forced to read this darn thing at anytime. But you'll definitely be contributing to raising my self-esteem, and making my blog look more enticing. So just think of all the good you'll be contributing to the cause!

on second chances

2009-02-12T16:25:00.005-06:00

I found out last week that I have been accepted into the Master's of Theology Program at St. Kate's! Talk about a boost! I was so terrified--convinced, actually--that I'd be rejected that getting that phone call (the director of the program notified me by phone) felt like I'd suddenly come out into light after walking in darkness for eons. For so many years it's seemed as though I've been dealing with nothing but fibromyalgia, migraines, depression, PTSD, losing my mom...it feels as though this is my reward. My second chance at life. Hopefully, the beginning of a lifetime of using what I've learned from my own personal tragedies, as it were, to help people who are hurting and in need of someone to be a loving, listening presence.

N.B. This is partially lifted from my application essay:

People often look at me strangely when I tell them I hope to work as a chaplain. They ask if it isn't depressing, if I couldn't make more money in another business [author's reply: YES I COULD MAKE TONS MORE MONEY ELSEWHERE], why I don't just volunteer at a hospital once a week, if what I want to do is work with sick people. But for me, it feels like a call, as though it's exactly the place God wants me to be, the thing that is most true to who I am as a person. What I remember most about my experiences as a chaplain intern is the sense of total honor,to be allowed to companion people during the most sacred, awe-inspiring moments of their lives--including, yes, the moment of their death.

For years, ever since I was first diagnosed with PTSD, I've longed, desperately, to somehow find meaning in my suffering by someday using my brokenness to help heal the pain of others. And when I began my first C.P.E. (Clinical Pastoral Education, basically a chaplain internship) at St. Joseph's Hospital, working with cancer patients, and the following summer at the VA Medical Center working with WWII combat vets still carrying the emotional ravages of all they had seen decades ago, I discovered that I had a certain authenticity. Because I'd been there, too. Maybe I hadn't had cancer, but I was familiar, through personal experience, with psychic and physical pain, and many of the spiritual questions that inevitably arise from it. I found that mixed in with the sorrow, and my frequent feeling of incompetence and awkwardness, were moments of true connection, of utter holiness. The "thin places," as my Irish ancestors would say: the mystical moments when earth and heaven meet.

Over ten years ago, after my summer at St. Joseph's, I wrote a short piece for The Catholic Spirit in answer to their question "Who is my neighbor?"; more than anything else I've written here I feel this brief narrative explains why I've chosen the ministry I have. And it also shows that in this ministry, so far, I've gained far more than I've given.

Dwarfed by the hospital bed, surrounded by IVs and beeping monitors, she was a tiny, frail elderly woman with enormous haunted dark eyes dominating a white face. A native of Poland, she spoke little English, but was nonetheless able to understand the diagnosis: inoperable stomach cancer. Six months, maybe less, to live.

I was a chaplain intern with a grand total of three weeks experience, observing my first hospice consult. What could I, a 27-year-old graduate student, possibly say to a lonely frightened dying woman who didn't even speak English?

As I stood huddled in a corner of the room and watched, a tear formed in one of those dark eyes and slid slowly down her face. Then another. And another. Her fragile body began to shake; and suddenly I found myself far from the safety of my hidden corner, my inexperience forgotten, my arms around her and my face buried against her shoulder, I dug out my little blue plastic rosary, and as we wept and prayed together, the healing love of Christ transcended the gulf between us, overcoming the barriers of language and age, binding us together as fellow pilgrims walking hand in hand on our journey home.

Note: I should explain here, for those who don't know me well, that I was in the M.Div program at the Saint Paul Seminary School of Divinity for about three years in my mid-twenties. I dropped out in 1997 when my fibromyalgia, depression, and PTSD made it too difficult to function, much less handle grad school. It's been my dream, ever since, to return to school, get my degree, and become a chaplain (hospital or hospice). Incidentally, none of my classes/credits transfer to St. Kate's, because it's been over ten years since I did my coursework. This is fine with me, actually, since my memory of those days is hazy, to say the least. It feels great to start afresh!

25 random things about me

2009-01-30T18:24:00.001-06:00

(I originally posted this on Facebook, but I wanted something semi-fun to post here today, so I thought I'd use this.)
1.I never liked poetry when I studied it in English class, but now I love reading it on my own. In fact, I'm becoming a poetry addict.
2. I closed my mom's eyes after she died. For some reason, this was--and still is--very important to me.
3. I was the last person in my class to learn to read, and first in my class on my PSAT verbal section. Perseverance does pay off!
4. I procrastinate terribly--not because I'm lazy, but because I'm afraid I'll screw everything up. Talk about self-fulfilling prophecies!
5. I think it is a disgrace that Pope John XXIII has not yet been canonized.
6. I took French in high school and college, and Spanish in college, and remember absolutely nothing of either.
7. When I was very little, I wanted to be both an astronaut and a ballerina. Simultaneously.
8. Yes, I really am a redhead. I'm partly Irish, after all.
9. I get really discouraged when no one reads my blog.
10. I've always wanted to be a writer, in addition to whatever else I do with my life.
11.I began a search for my birth mother last year. I haven't heard anything yet.
12. I feel a little disloyal to my mom for doing this, even though she always supported the idea and even offered to pay for it.
13. I make a mean homemade marinara sauce, with lots of onion and garlic.
14.I used to do lots of drawing with charcoal and pastels; I'd like to start doing it again, but for some reason I'm scared to. (Maybe I'm afraid I'll, well, suck.)
15.If I could do college over again, I'd major in history or English and philosophy, instead of political science and philosophy. And I'd take four years of Latin, for fun. Yes, fun.
16. Sometimes I feel as though I am strangely invisible.
17. I never minded being an only child, until both of my parents were gone.
18. I played varsity tennis in high school, and was also in choir and yearbook.
19. I feel very connected to both of my grandmothers, although my maternal grandma died long before I was born, and my paternal grandma died when I was 16--almost 25 years ago.
20. I have ultra-sensitive skin that requires more pampering than a baby's.
21. The only thing that REALLY makes my back feel better is massage and gentle yoga. And certain muscle relaxers, of course.
22. I would love to do freelance writing but have no idea how to begin.
23. One of the very best days of my life was the day I discovered that dark chocolate actually contains more antioxidants than green tea.
24.My biggest regret (aside from infertility) is that I was supposed to spend a college semester studying in London, which fell through when we couldn't come up with the extra cash, and I was supposed to spend a whole week over New Year's Eve staying in a friend's flat in Paris, only to wind up in the ER the night before my flight with a bad case of influenza.
25. When I was 30 I had surgery to correct a crooked jaw--my scoliosis made the lower part of my face grow unevenly.

fully human

2009-01-29T16:28:00.005-06:00

I realize now, finally, that the pain I've endured will always be an indelible part of me. But recovery and healing aren't necessarily about erasing pain; I think it's more about using our time in the darkness to become fully human. St. Iraneus of Lyons wrote, famously, that "[t]he greatest glory of God is a human being fully alive," meaning, I suspect, that we become saints by simply becoming more of who we are, even in our brokenness. Perhaps especially in our woundedness. Happiness, I've come to believe, is overrated: joy is the thing to strive for. They are not the same thing.

I think I first began to comprehend this when I was raped at the age of 32. The grief, the overwhelming sense of shame, of self-hatred and disgust, threatened to drown me. It was like living the first weeks after my PTSD diagnosis (and the childhood rape that originally caused it) all over again. But, along with the love and support of my family, friends, and the Basilica community, one thing saved me.

I'm the last one to discount the value of my many years of therapy, and the excellent medical care I've received--which I have no doubt saved my life--but I wonder. Without my experience of Christ's healing love, would any--or much, anyway--of my treatment been successful? one of the most enduring legacies of sexual abuse and/or rape is a pervasive, all-encompassing sense of shame. And of course I know, intellectually, that the ways in which I was violated were not my responsibility. But what is slowly changing that perception of myself in my heart is the realization that I am, just as we all are, the imago dei: made in the image and likeness of God. At last, I am able to (sometimes) accept that my violation was God's violation, too, and that He wept with me in my sorrow and grief.

I often think of the Scripture story of the woman with the hemorrhage. Because of her constant flow of blood, her society considered her unclean--just as I often feel unclean. Think of the shame she must have felt. Yet she summoned the courage to touch the hem of Jesus' cloak, and by her faith, she was healed, healed in the most profound way possible, and her shame was no more. It was her trust, her utter, complete surrender to her love for Jesus, and His love for her, which made her free.

Just as I hope that someday I, too, will be made free.

fiona, doggie supermodel

2009-01-25T18:57:00.015-06:00

Meet, once again, Fiona, center of the universe and sweet, cuddly, soft little furball who owns our family of three. You will notice that, occasionally, she graciously lets George and me pose with her. (We haven't figured out yet how to break the news that we are planning to adopt to her.)

books: 2008

2009-01-15T16:07:00.007-06:00

The Girl with the Pearl Earring, Tracy Chevalier
Falling Angels, ibid
Chronically Happy: Joyful Living in Spite of Chronic Illness, Lori Hartwell
Please Understand Me: Character & Temperament Types, David Keirsey and Marilyn Bates
Katherine, Anya Seton
Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life, Anne Lamott
Victorian London: The Life of a City, 1840-1870, Liza Picard
Elizabeth's London: Everyday life in Elizabethan London, ibid.
Innocent Traitor: A Novel of Lady Jane Grey, Allison Weir
The Lost Painting: The Quest for a Caravaggio Masterpiece, Jonathan Harr
Thunderstruck, Erik Larson
Isaac's Storm: A Man, A Time, and the Deadliest Storm in History, ibid
The Warrior Queens, Antonia Fraser
Mary, Queen of Scots, ibid
Love and Louis XIV: The Women in the Life of the Sun King, ibid
Journey From the Land of No, Roya Hakakian
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, Rebecca Wells
Little Altars Everywhere, ibid
Leaving a Trace: On Keeping a Journal, Alexandria Johnson
The Hidden Writer: Diaries and the Creative Life, ibid
Wisdom of the Celtic Saints, Edward Sellner
Open the Door: A Journey to the True Self, Joyce Rupp
Praying by Hand: Rediscovering the Rosary as a Way of Prayer, Basil Pennington, O.C.S.O.
The Wounded Healer: Ministry in Contemporary Society, Henri J.M. Nouwen
Compassion: A Reflection on the Christian Life, Nouwen, et al
Called to Question: A Spiritual Memoir, Joan Chittister
The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully, ibid
There is a Season, ibid
The Story of Ruth: Twelve Moments in Every Woman's Life, ibid
The Dark Night of the Soul: A Psychiatrist Explores the Connection Between Darkness and Inner Growth, Gerald May, M.D.
Kitchen Table Wisdom: Stories That Heal, Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.
How Much is Enough? Hungering for God in an Affluent Culture, Arthur Simon
The Challenge and Spirituality of Catholic Social Teaching, Marvin L. Krier Mich
Cloud of Witnesses, Jim Wallis and Joyce Hollyday
Joan: The Mysterious Life of the Heretic Who Became a Saint, Donald Spoto.
The Bible: A Biography, Karen Armstrong
How Firm a Foundation: Leaders of the Liturgical Movement, Robert L. Tuzik, ed.
Prayers of the Women Mystics, Rhonda De Sola
Woman, Why Do You Weep? Spirituality for Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Sandra M. Flaherty
Touching the Holy: Ordinariness, Self-Esteem, and Friendship, Robert J. Wicks
Thirsty for God: A Brief History of Christian Spirituality, Bradley P. Holt
Pilgrim's Almanac: Reflections for Every Day, Edward Hays
In Cold Blood, Truman Capote
Hitler's Willing Executioner's: Ordinary Germans and the Holocaust, Daniel Jonah Goldhagen
Wait 'Til Next Year, Doris Kearns Goodwin
Light a Penny Candle, Maeve Binchy
Tara Road, ibid
Quentin's, ibid
Scarlet Feather, ibid
Silver Wedding, ibid
Evening Class, ibid
The Glass Lake, ibid
Firefly Summer, ibid
Year of Wonders: A Novel of the Plague, Geraldine Brooks
People of the Book: A Novel, ibid
The Chronic Illness Experience: Embracing the Imperfect Life, Cheri Register
Dim Sum, Bagels, and Grits: A Multicultural Adoption, Myra Alperson
Lincoln: A Novel, Gore Vidal
Attaching in Adoption: Practical Tools for Today's Parents, Deborah D. Gray
Life's Companion: Journal Writing as a Spiritual Quest, Christina Baldwin
Words in a French Life: Lessons in Love and Language From the South of France, Kristin Espinasse
Coastliners: A Novel, Joanne Harris
Five Quarters of the Orange, ibid
Chocolat, ibid
A Vision of Light: A Margaret of Ashbury Novel, Judith Merkle Riley
In Pursuit of the Green Lion: A Margaret of Ashbury Novel, ibid
The Water Devil: A Margaret of Ashbury Novel, ibid
The Birth of Venus: A Novel, Sarah Dinanat
Murder in the Rue De Paradis, Cara Black
Murder in Belleville, ibid
Murder in the Marais, ibid
Murder on the Ile Saint-Louis, ibid
Murder in Clichy, ibid
Murder in Montmartre, ibid
Entre Nous: A Woman's Guide to Finding Her Inner French Girl, Debra Oliver
Hardball: How Politics is Played by One Who Knows the Game, Christopher Matthews
Lean Forward Into Your Life, Mary Anne Rademacher
The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova
Good Living With Fibromyalgia, Arthritis Foundation

All while typing this list I kept thinking of two of my favorite readers: Emilie, and my mom. "Oh, I've got to tell Emilie about this one," I'd think, only to remember...I've had more time to get used to my mom's death, but I still can't help wanting to call her on the phone to tell her every time I discover an especially intriguing, complex, mystery story.

But still. Today, this is how I honor them, and the legacy they've left me, a legacy filled with love and appreciation for the power and mystery of language. And I'm grateful, too, for the many friends with whom I still share a mutual love of books, of delight in a cleverly turned phrase, in that magical feeling of discovering something new and traveling on a magic carpet--all thanks to our common love of the written (and spoken!) word.

And mom, it's taken me many years, but I finally--well, mostly--forgive you for all those horrible puns.

(For an example of another friend who loves words, too, check out Liz's beautifully written recent post.)

the day he died

2009-01-12T19:11:00.012-06:00

He died face down in the cold, wet, new-fallen snow sixteen years ago on a shivery, white, mid-January Minnesota day. A day exactly like today. He was a husband and a father, a brother, an uncle, a nephew, a cousin, and a friend. And although Tom Brokaw hadn't coined the phrase yet, he was one of the "Greatest Generation" the United States of America ever has known.

He was born in 1919, the third of eleven children in a large, exuberant German-Catholic farming family. He was forced to leave school after fifth grade, at the age of ten, to go work and help support the family. That was the year he and his older brother Leo shared one pair of shoes; one day Leo would wear them, the next day, Leo's little brother got to wear them. In his teens he worked in the CCC--the Civilian Conservation Corps--sent all of his pay home to his folks, and remained a New Deal Democrat until the day he died.

He was sitting at the kitchen table filling out his card for the Selective Service (i.e. the draft) the afternoon he heard over the radio that the Japanese had bombed Pearl Harbor. Within a few years, he would take part in the bloodiest nightmares World War II had to offer: landing in the third assault wave on Omaha Beach, spending Christmas Day 1944 in some of the fiercest fighting the Ardennnes saw during the Battle of the Bulge, helping liberate one of the sub-camps of Buchenwald in the Hartz mountains of Germany (a work camp, not a death camp, was all he would ever tell me, adding a moment later that there wasn't any difference).

When he finally came home in September of 1945 and discovered that his mother had saved all of his combat pay (which he'd sent home for the family to use) in a bank account for him, he used the money to buy the place where the family had been tenant farmers. He, his dad, and brothers founded a construction company too, and built many of the barns and houses in the Rush City-Pine City area of Minnesota, a number of which still stand today. He was the son who stayed home to farm and look after his mom and dad, putting off marriage and family until his parents decided to move into Rush City to live with his sister Julie. He was always the doting older brother and uncle, though, the tease, the one who made sure every niece and nephew had a Christmas present. He was the reason his little sister Jo refused to let her boyfriends come visit her at home--she knew she'd NEVER hear the end of it once her big brother found out a boy liked her! (Funny, his daughter had the same problem many years later...)

But in 1963 he married the girl he'd had his eye on for more than a decade and they settled down together in Minneapolis. They adopted a tiny daughter of five weeks in 1968. He almost died five years later, when he suffered his first heart attack, but luckily, it was mild and he lived another nineteen years. He lived to stick by his wife through two separate bouts of breast cancer, to take care of his daughter when she had three back surgeries for scoliosis at the age of seventeen. He lived to teach his little girl to fish, to show her by example that nothing in the whole world ever comes before the people you love. He took her to the Shrine Circus (unaware that she was terrified of clowns), the State Fair, and, every year, to see the Christmas lights in downtown Minneapolis. He stayed up with her all night when, at eighteen, the boy she thought she loved stood her up to go out with the campus floozy.

He was my father. His name was Leonard Henry Resch, and I adored him beyond reason, beyond words. And sixteen years to the day he returned home to God, I still do. I always will. And it's one of the greatest gifts I've ever been given. Thanks, God, you may have him now--as long as you promise that some day, I'll see that twinkle in his eye again, and I'll get to kiss him on the forehead once more. That we'll all be home again. Together, at last.

gifts in the rubble

2009-01-09T14:51:00.009-06:00

Yes, I'm still a redhead. No, I'm not planning to change my haircolor. I did rename this blog, formerly known as "The Redhead Report" however, because I wanted a title that is more congruent with what I'm feeling the urge to write about these days. Like many others I know, I've been through what, I guess, is a lot in my forty years (some days it seems like more than others!) but I've come to find that there many gifts that come with the healing process.

(Note: The following is taken from my grad school application essay.)

Sometimes, we find the greatest gifts in the rubble and detritus of our broken, shattered dreams. Grace, I have discovered, has a way of catching us unawares. We are all called to sainthood; each of us is designated to do the thing that we alone can do in this world to help bring about the Kingdom of God and spread the Gospel. Yet it may be that it is only through our encounters with the deepest, darkest depths that we can begin to see, clearly, the light, to discover our place in the pattern, and only then that we become filled with gratitude for God's love and grace.

I was diagnosed with severe post traumatic stress disorder at the age of 19. I was a consummate over-achiever in college--honor society, merit scholarships, a coveted internship with Senator Ted Kennedy--and I guess I assumed the world was mine for the taking: the sky was the limit. Then the flashbacks began, followed by the nightmares, the depression. My grades dropped, many of my friends turned away, my dreams of law school faded, and, it seemed, my world turned to ashes.

Yet as so frequently happens with God, the very weakness I despised led to my greatest discovery. For in my vulnerability, my brokenness, my comprehension of my complete, utter powerlessness, I gradually came to accept my total dependence on God, and God alone. It was only as I clutched desperately, in my despair, to the God who was all I had left, that I came to glimpse God's boundless, infinite love and compassion.

I was painfully forced to re-imagine the God of my childhood: the benevolent traffic controller who lived up above the clouds, in heaven. One by one, I discarded all of the platitudes I'd always heard during bad times, such as "everything happens for a reason" and "well, it must be God's will." Examining these old assumptions, I decided, firmly, that they didn't meet the test of child rape (which is what happened to me). I could not love or even respect, I knew, a God who could will something so evil, so destructive, to happen--for any reason. Forced to let go of the omnipotent, all-powerful God of my youth, I have slowly come to embrace, with surprising joy, the Christ of the Paschal Mystery. The thoroughly immanent God who chose to become one with us for no other reason than His immense love for us, and desire to call us to Himself.

for emilie

2009-01-01T12:09:00.018-06:00

Emilie darling,
I loved you like a sister. I asked you to be my matron of honor because you were one of the closest, dearest friends I've ever had--and probably ever will. I feel somehow as though part of my soul is missing now that you are gone; a void has opened that, I know, will never close. All of our other friends have written so eloquently about what you meant to them, about how you will be missed. But for all that you encouraged me to become a writer (nagged, occasionally!) I cannot seem to do likewise. My heart feels like lead, my eyes continually fill with tears, and my mind is a mushy fog. I flounder, helplessly, to find words adequate to express my feelings. So, instead, I am copying the words of a writer far more able than I:

We Remember Them

In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember them.
In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember them.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember them.
In the rustling of leaves and the beauty of autumn,
we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are now a part of us, as we remember them.
--Jewish prayer

I loved you, Emilie. I only pray that you knew just how much. May God bless and keep you, now and forever.

a thought for the day...

2008-12-21T19:04:00.001-06:00

"For life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only an horizon, and an horizon is nothing save the limitation of our sight."
--Rossiter Worthington Raymond

just checking in

2008-11-06T13:19:00.002-06:00

Started back on ThePill last week because endometriosis has been acting up...almost immediately started getting migraines again...went off The Pill yesterday..still having migraines...ICK!!!!

forty for forty

2008-10-03T16:40:00.011-05:00

Oops! I made out my resolution list several weeks ago and then completely forgot to post it. I've never made birthday resolutions before, but hitting a milestone birthday has inspired me to take stock of where I am and where I want to go. So here goes!

Keep up with gratitude journal somedays
Complete adoption application, home study, and dossier still trying to come up with application fee
Yoga occasionally
Physical therapy exercises at least 5 days per week ummm...
Volunteer for Barack Obama (GOTV effort) nope--migraines kept me in bed
Begin spiritual direction done
Paint living room, hallway next spring
Send in grad school application for Master's in Theology Program by December 1 make that December 30
Find financial aid for grad school
Celebrate 40th birthday in style done!!!
Lose Prednisone weight by Christmas almost
Apply for spiritual direction certificate program changed to pastoral ministry certificate program
Cardio at least 5 days per week
Strength training, 2 days per week
Get mammogram done
Organize photos
Organize mom and grandma's letters
Obedience lessons for Fiona
Eat at least 5 fruits and vegetables daily HA!!
Check into infertility support group found online adoption support group
Check into fibromyalgia support group
Organize study
Do The Artist's Way
Date night with George once a week
Work on improving my Spanish, especially conversational maybe French, instead
Send birthday cards ON TIME not even close :(
Update blog more often better
Journal every day, even if for only a few minutes somdays
Organize mom's things, finally
Explore ways to finance adoption looking at foster-adoption now
Send five things for publication
Read To Kill a Mockingbird, The Great Gatsby, The Sun Also Rises, Catcher in the Rye, Anna Karenina, and The House of Spirits
Learn to knit
Knit prayer shawl
Become commissioned Eucharistic Minister
Check into Basilica Befriender ministry yes
Reconnect with college friends doing
Keep to a regular sleep schedule getting much better
Organize week using The Life Organizer by Jennifer Louden will probably never do
Watch more comedies too many Law & Order reruns, still

i'll see you in my dreams

2008-09-06T16:14:00.004-05:00

"I never knew grief felt so much like fear."
--C.S. Lewis

Lewis was right on target: grief does feel like fear. The same breathless, sickening sensation of a sharp kick smack in the middle of the gut; the trembly, disoriented, foggy feeling in the brain; the same clenching, harsh pain around the heart.

All summer--strangely, ever since my headaches started easing up--I've been dreaming about my parents, especially my mom. The dreams always follow the same pattern. I'm reunited with either or both of my folks, only to have them die right in front of me. Almost every morning I wake up, crying, to face another day of fresh, raw grief, as though they died only yesterday. It's as though I'm haunted. It's made me depressed and weepy as of late; I'm extra sensitive, so every perceived slight hurts all the more, and my self-esteem is swimming around in the depths of the toilet.

Obviously, I haven't processed my mom's death. As I look back over the past year, I realize I've dealt with my grief, in many instances, by not dealing with it. By focusing on having a baby, partly to fill the void left by her absence. (Yeah, my head knows that won't work, but I suspect my gut feels differently. I should point out that I've desperately wanted a baby for a long time; it's just that losing my mom makes my grief over not conceiving even more intense.) By distracting myself with the TV and books. By telling myself that hey, I'm forty years old now, it's time to grow up and stop yearning for my mommy. The constant migraines, I now think, were in part, my grief coming out sideways.

Oscar Romero once said, "As a Christian, I do not believe in death without Resurrection." And I do, it's the hope I cling to. But I can't bear the thought that I will never again in this life feel my mom's arms around me, or be able to rest my head on her shoulder. That she's not there to soothe my hurt feelings when I feel rejected or like a failure at something. That there's no one left to reminisce with about the things the three of us did as a family together. I want to get past the grief, to get on with my life, to focus on enjoying my wonderful memories of my mom and dad; I just don't know how to, I guess.

redhead facts

2008-08-10T11:53:00.004-05:00

Only 2% of the world population are natural redheads.
4% of the American population are natural redheads.
The "ginger gene," the gene responsible for red hair, was discovered by Jonathan Rees at the University of Edinburgh.
In 2001 an Irish judge fined a man for disorderly conduct, stating, "I am a firm believer that hair coloring has an effect on temper, and your coloring suggests you have a temper." (Perhaps the judge was married to a redhead.)
Botticelli's The Birth of Venus depicts the mythological goddess as a redhead.
Between 1483 and 1784, approximately 45,000 women were executed as witches because they possessed "witch marks," including red hair.
Redheaded women require 20% more anesthesia to block movement in response to painful stimulation than blonds or brunettes.
In 1993 Bruce Springsteen first sang the lyrics, "You ain't lived until you've had your tires rotated by a redheaded woman."

"You'd find it easier to be bad than good if you had red hair. People who haven't red hair don't know what trouble it is."
--Anne of Green Gables

the gratitude list

2008-08-04T14:14:00.009-05:00

I'm Most Grateful For...

My marriage to George. I still can't quite believe I'm lucky enough to be married to my best friend.
The love and support of my friends and family, especially my Aunt Barb (for whom I was named), my Aunt Jo (my godmother) and my cousin Melinda.
My faith and the incredible community at the Basilica of St. Mary.
Turtle sundaes.
My many wonderful, tender, funny memories of my mom and dad.
That I have a darling puppydog to cuddle and play with.
Books.
Modern medicine!
Sweater weather.
A roof over our heads, clothes on our backs, and food on our table, which is more than many have these days.
"The Closer" on TNT, along with Comedy Central's "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report."
That I had the opportunity to work for both Senator Ted Kennedy and Senator Paul Wellstone.
The Minnesota Twins (first place in the A.L. Central!), especially Joe Mauer, Justin Morneau and Joe Nathan. And that I got carded--twice--at the game Saturday night. :)
The Minneapolis lakes, the Mississippi River and the North Shore of Lake Superior.
That I have so many of my mom's and grandma's old letters, as well as my dad's photographs from WWII.
Colorful maple leaves that crunch underfoot in the fall.
My education at Boston College, which taught me how much I still have to learn.
My curly red hair, pale skin and freckles, which I detested in my early teens, but learned to appreciate after I saw Molly Ringwald in "The Breakfast Club" and "Sixteen Candles."
Sunscreen, big hats and sunglasses.
The values I learned from my parents.
My memories of growing up surrounded by a huge, exuberant and loving extended family-- especially at Christmas.
Hair conditioner and anti-frizz products.
The mother who gave me life, and my adoptive parents who were, quite possibly, the most terrific mom and dad ever in existence.
My continued, and very real, sense of my mom's presence.
Chocolate.
The people I worked with and met as a chaplain intern. I received far more than I gave.
That I was with my mom, holding her hand, when she died.
That Barack Obama is running for president.
That, despite a truly hideous audition, I'm going to be singing in the Contemporary Choir at the Basilica.
That we are finally going to get Fiona to obedience lessons. Sigh.
That I learned to apply Oragel to my eyebrows before I pluck them.
My trusty little '96 Geo Metro.
My subscriptions to Commonweal, U.S. Catholic and America, which give me hope that the Catholic Church will, somehow, be okay.
Writing classes at The Loft.
Pasta.
My wonderful in-laws. Not only did I get a husband, but I gained a whole new family, too, complete with four sisters!
Berry smoothies.
Makeup, which makes me look as if I feel good even when I don't.
Sunshine and blue skies.
Laughter.

empty arms syndrome

2008-07-30T16:33:00.006-05:00

Once again, nature has confirmed that I'm not pregnant. Maybe we should buy stock in Kleenex, as I'm going through a couple of boxes a week these days. I know it's not healthy to focus on the negative things, that I should be grateful for all of the blessings in my life, but I can't stop crying today. Actually, just about every day I wind up in tears; there's always something that reminds me of how empty my arms are.

With my 40th birthday right around the corner, I'm constantly fighting the panic rising in my throat and the voice in my head telling me that it's too late for us. Right now we're debating fertility testing. I'm not sure there's much point, really, because we can't afford any kind of assisted reproduction techniques. Our insurance doesn't cover it and we can barely pay our medical bills as it is. Plus, I'm hesitant to try Clomid (should that be a viable option) because it could make my depression worse. We'd love to adopt, and are looking into it, but I don't know how in hell we would pay for that, either.

I'm just so tired of dealing with infertility. First, after we got married, one of my doctors said I shouldn't get pregnant because my antiseizure medication might be too dangerous for the baby. Then last summer we consulted a perinatologist, who thought that after some medication adjustments we could go ahead and try; I'd be a high-risk pregnancy, but we'd have a good shot at a healthy baby. Now I can't even get pregnant. And one by one, my friends have been getting pregnant and having adorable, lovely babies.

It feels as though motherhood is happening for everyone around me, and I just want to scream "Why not me?!" Am I being punished for something? Am I just totally deficient as a woman? We are so lonely for a child of our own. I'm happy for my friends, I truly am. But why, God, can't I have a baby too?

I apologize for the pity party, but I needed to vent.

i survived boot camp

2008-07-23T16:02:00.009-05:00

HOW did it get to be July 23 already? This summer is going by so fast--too fast! I spent the first part of the summer at Chronic Pain Boot Camp. Well, technically, the correct name is The Chronic Pain Program (through the MAPS Pain Clinics), but it certainly felt more like boot camp: four hours a day of intensive physical therapy, support group and education around living with chronic pain, and relaxation therapy. I haven't moved so much in years, and everyday I came home and did nothing but veg out and sleep. Same thing on the weekends. Yet, to my surprise, I not only survived but am feeling and doing better than I have in years--a couple of weeks ago I actually went HIKING up at Gooseberry Falls, much to George's (and my) amazement!

The Pain Program is offered for patients who suffer from chronic pain which can't be cured, and the goal is to help patients learn to cope with their pain and return to living active, productive lives. I finally have tools to help me manage my fibromyalgia, back pain, migraines, etc., and, after so many years of feeling like pain victim, I feel as though I have my life back at long last. My only regret is that I didn't do this sooner--I would have if I'd known about it! Apparently, this type of program is the recommended treatment for fibromyalgia. Grrr. Oh well, I've told all of my doctors to recommend this to their other patients with fibro, so I hope other folks won't wind up going for years without any real help.

My goal now is to keep up with the gains I've made by keeping up with my exercise regimen, eating healthfully, getting enough sleep and practicing relaxation techniques. I'm also planning to do some volunteering at the Basilica and with the Obama campaign; I'm hoping I can parlay the latter into some kind of job doing grassroots organizing. Oh, and I also want to try my hand at doing some freelance writing.

I hope all of you will forgive me for being such a lousy friend over the last year or so. Looking back, I think my mom's death triggered a fibromyalgia relapse, and I've really struggled with both terrible pain and, even more, the frustration, anger, loneliness and grief that accompanied it. Still, that's an explanation, not an excuse. I hope my friends will, please, let me make it up to you in the future. :-)

the big read

2008-07-23T15:22:00.006-05:00

Finally back on the internet, and eager to re-involve myself with the wider world, I've decided to follow the lead of my literary friends Emilie, Liz, and Liz by jumping on the bandwagon of the The Big Read. Apparently, the Big Read (a program of the National Endowment for the Arts) guesses that the average adult has only read six of the top 100 books on this list. I didn't do too badly, I guess, but not as well as I would have liked. Oh well--I won't have any trouble coming up with new books to read over the rest of the summer!

Here are the instructions:
1) Look at the list and bold those you have read.
2) Italicize those you intend to read.
3) Underline (or mark in a different color) the books you LOVE.
4) Reprint this list in your blog so we can try and track down these people who've read 6 and force books upon them.

1 Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
2 The Lord of the Rings - JRR Tolkien
3 Jane Eyre - Charlotte Bronte
4 Harry Potter series - JK Rowling
5 To Kill a Mockingbird - Harper Lee
6 The Bible
7 Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte
8 Nineteen Eighty Four - George Orwell
9 His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
10 Great Expectations - Charles Dickens
11 Little Women - Louisa M Alcott
12 Tess of the D'Urbervilles - Thomas Hardy
13 Catch 22 - Joseph Heller
14 Complete Works of Shakespeare (I've read quite a few of Shakespeare's plays, yet I certainly can't claim of have read all of them--but then who can, apart from Shakespearean scholars?)
15 Rebecca - Daphne Du Maurier
16 The Hobbit - JRR Tolkien
17 Birdsong - Sebastian Faulks
18 Catcher in the Rye - JD Salinger
19 The Time Traveller's Wife - Audrey Niffenegger
20 Middlemarch - George Eliot
21 Gone With The Wind - Margaret Mitchell
22 The Great Gatsby - F Scott Fitzgerald
23 Bleak House - Charles Dickens
24 War and Peace - Leo Tolstoy
25 The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams
26 Brideshead Revisited - Evelyn Waugh
27 Crime and Punishment - Fyodor Dostoyevsky
28 Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck
29 Alice in Wonderland - Lewis Carroll
30 The Wind in the Willows - Kenneth Grahame
31 Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy
32 David Copperfield - Charles Dickens
33 Chronicles of Narnia - CS Lewis
34 Emma - Jane Austen
35 Persuasion - Jane Austen
36 The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe - CS Lewis
37 The Kite Runner - Khaled Hosseini
38 Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Bernieres
39 Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
40 Winnie the Pooh - AA Milne
41 Animal Farm - George Orwell
42 The Da Vinci Code - Dan Brown
43 One Hundred Years of Solitude - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
44 A Prayer for Owen Meany - John Irving
45 The Woman in White - Wilkie Collins
46 Anne of Green Gables - LM Montgomery
47 Far From The Madding Crowd - Thomas Hardy
48 The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood
49 Lord of the Flies - William Golding
50 Atonement - Ian McEwan
51 Life of Pi - Yann Martel
52 Dune - Frank Herbert
53 Cold Comfort Farm - Stella Gibbons
54 Sense and Sensibility - Jane Austen
55 A Suitable Boy - Vikram Seth
56 The Shadow of the Wind - Carlos Ruiz Zafon
57 A Tale Of Two Cities - Charles Dickens
58 Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
59 The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time - Mark Haddon
60 Love In The Time Of Cholera - Gabriel Garcia Marquez
61 Of Mice and Men - John Steinbeck
62 Lolita - Vladimir Nabokov
63 The Secret History - Donna Tartt
64 The Lovely Bones - Alice Sebold
65 Count of Monte Cristo - Alexandre Dumas
66 On The Road - Jack Kerouac
67 Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
68 Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
69 Midnight's Children - Salman Rushdie
70 Moby Dick - Herman Melville
71 Oliver Twist - Charles Dickens
72 Dracula - Bram Stoker
73 The Secret Garden - Frances Hodgson Burnett
74 Notes From A Small Island - Bill Bryson
75 Ulysses - James Joyce
76 The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath
77 Swallows and Amazons - Arthur Ransome
78 Germinal - Emile Zola
79 Vanity Fair - William Makepeace Thackeray
80 Possession - AS Byatt
81 A Christmas Carol - Charles Dickens
82 Cloud Atlas - David Mitchell
83 The Color Purple - Alice Walker
84 The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
85 Madame Bovary - Gustave Flaubert
86 A Fine Balance - Rohinton Mistry
87 Charlotte's Web - EB White
88 The Five People You Meet In Heaven - Mitch Albom
89 Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
90 The Faraway Tree Collection
91 Heart of Darkness - Joseph Conrad
92 The Little Prince - Antoine De Saint-Exupery
93 The Wasp Factory - Iain Banks
94 Watership Down - Richard Adams
95 A Confederacy of Dunces - John Kennedy Toole
96 A Town Like Alice - Nevil Shute
97 The Three Musketeers - Alexandre Dumas
98 Hamlet - William Shakespeare -
99 Charlie and the Chocolate Factory - Ronald Dahl
100 Les Miserables - Victor Hugo

I have to admit I'd like to have a little chat with whoever compiled this list, though. WAY too much Dickens. And including The DaVinci Code but NO Hemingway, Faulkner, Twain or Vonnegut--come on, people!!

april update

2008-04-07T16:55:00.010-05:00

Well, I'm still on Vicodin, still having migraines every day, still not pregnant. My doctor is starting me on a three week course of steroids (maybe I'll wind up looking like Barry Bonds!) in hopes of ending my current migraine "cycle." He's also sending me to a pain clinic; they have a fibromyalgia clinic and a headache management program, as well as a chronic pain management program, so maybe they'll have something in their bag of tricks that will help. It's not as though my docs and I haven't tried plenty of methods over the years: various medications, physical therapy, trigger point injections, Botox injections (in my neck and shoulders, not my crows feet!), relaxation techniques, etc., etc., but I'm keeping an open mind and hoping for the best. At this point, I realize that I'm not going to find a cure, and I'm okay with that; my goal, rather, is to gather more coping techniques to help me live with the pain and, hopefully, function a bit better.

This winter seemed ENDLESS! My headaches were especially problematic for two reasons. One, because with migraines it's difficult to distract myself the same way I can with other types of pain. I'm so sensitive to light and sound that a good share of the time I'm stuck lying in bed, in the dark, and it's hard not to ruminate about the pain, about missing my mom, and other sad things. Two, several years ago I was diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder, the "winter depression" also known by its highly apt acronym of SAD. I'm supposed to use a light box for about 40 minutes every morning, and I'm sure it would be very effective, if the bright light didn't invariably trigger a blinding migraine!

So, maybe it's cloudy and a bit dreary today, but I don't care. It's finally spring, baseball season is here, and once again I'm reminded how much I have to grateful for--right now I'm thinking of the caring and support of my family and friends, without whom I could never have made it through the winter. I hope you all realize just HOW MUCH it means to me to hear from you, whether it's by email, phone call, or comments here on my blog. Chronic illness and pain can be terribly isolating. There have been so many instances when I've felt so alone and been convinced I just can't go on one more day...and then I hear from one of you, and realize I can.

endless winter

2008-03-06T18:37:00.003-06:00

The Topamax isn't helping yet, so my doctor has increased my dosage. The pain in my neck, shoulders, and upper back, combined with my daily migraines, is so bad that I'm on vicodin (sp?) every day now. All I do is sit in the house with the shades drawn (the light hurts my eyes), desperately wanting relief from the endless waves of pain, aching for a baby to hold, longing for my mom.

I wish spring would come, in the worst way.

tagged

2008-02-21T21:09:00.007-06:00

Yay! I've been tagged by my friend Liz. It's a nice feeling, to be remembered, but with my head throbbing and pounding as usual, I don't think I can come up with anything interesting. Still, I'll give it a try.

The rules:
1) Link to the person who tagged you.
2) Post the rules.
3) Share six non-important things / habits / quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people.
5) Make sure the people you tagged KNOW you tagged them by commenting what you did.

I make up weird little songs and sing them to Fiona.
When I was in grade school I wrote a series of stories about "The Fearless Four," a group of two girls and two boys who solved mysteries together.
I begged my mom to let me start kindergarten when I was four.
Then I begged mom and the priest to let me make my First Communion in first grade instead of second. (In both cases I got my way.)
I've sung (soprano) in various choirs since high school.
Last night I dreamed about the Minnesota Twins; at this rate I'll be as bad as my Aunt Barb, the family Twins fanatic, soon. In my dream, it was opening night at the new ballpark, and I was there with Liz!

I tag April, Kristie, and Vicki!

forgive me, baby-to-be

2008-02-07T21:02:00.000-06:00

I can't take it anymore. Chronic migraines have completely hijacked my life. I can't sleep, can't think, can't write, go to chorale practice, see friends (or comment on their blogs!), go to church, or basically do anything that makes life worth living. SOME DAYS I CAN'T EVEN READ. AT ALL. I didn't even get to go caucus Tuesday night and I was SO excited about being part of Super Tuesday. So I talked to my neurologist today about going back on my migraine medication, Topamax, at least until I get pregnant. He says that as long as I keep taking my 4 mg. of folic acid(that's milligrams, not micrograms, ladies, because both Topamax and Neurontin, my seizure medication, increase the risk of neural tube defects), our as-yet-hypothetical baby should be okay.

Actually, if I don't get back on my Topamax, baby-to-be, you will probably never come into existence, because migraines aren't exactly conducive to babymaking. (Someday, when you're a little older, you'll understand what I mean. Your father will be the one to explain these things to you.)

books: 2007

2008-01-09T15:27:00.001-06:00

Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, they say, so I hope Liz and Emilie won't mind if I borrow their idea and post a list of the books I read this past year! As I typed this up, I kept thinking about how much my book choices for 2007 revealed about my life at the time, my interests, my hopes-- books about grief and loss, spirituality and church history, medieval histories and biographies, novels and essays. I'm already looking forward to compiling my 2008 list next January, and hoping it will include a few happier choices!

Thin Places: Where Faith is Affirmed and Hope Dwells, Mary Treacy O'Keefe
Seven Ages of Paris, Alistair Horne
The Year of Pleasures, Elizabeth Berg
In Short: A Collection of Brief Creative Nonfiction, Judith Kitchen & Mary Paumier Jones, eds.
The Kidnapping of Edgardo Mortara, David I. Kertzer
Dakota: A Spiritual Geography, Kathleen Norris
Rasputin's Daughter, Robert Alexander
Basilica, the Splendor and the Scandal: Building St. Peter's, R.A. Scott
Amazing Grace: The Lives of Children and the Conscience of a Nation, Jonathan Kozol
The Jane Austen Book Club, Karen Joy Fowler
Born to Rule: Five Reigning Consorts, Granddaughters of Queen Victoria, Julia P. Gelardi
1066: The Hidden History in the Bayeaux Tapestry, Andrew Bridegeford
Under the Banner of Heaven: A Story of Violent Faith, Jon Krakauer
Pope John XXIII, Thomas Cahill
After Elizabeth: The Rise of James of Scotland and the Struggle for the Throne of England, Leanda deLisle
French Women for all Seasons: A Year of Secrets, Recipes, & Pleasure, MirelleGuilano
Dogs of God: Columbus, the Inquisition, and the Defeat of the Moors, James Reston, Jr.
The Last Apocalypse: Europe at the Year 1000, A.D., James Reston, Jr
A Distant Mirror: The Calamitious 14th Century, Barbara Tuchman
The Great Mortality: An Intimate History of the Black Death, the Most Devastating Plague of All Time, John Kelly
The Caliph's House: A Year in Casablanca, Tahir Shah
The Proud Tower: A Portrait of the World Before the War, 1890-1914, Barbara Tuchman
Holy Fools, Joanne Harris
Alexandra: The Last Tsarina, Carolly Erickson
A Thread of Grace, Mary Dora Russell
The Joy Luck Club, Amy Tan
The Hundred Secret Senses, Amy Tan
The Bonesetter's Daughter, Amy Tan
Saving Fish From Drowning, Amy Tan
Final Gifts: Understanding the Special Awareness, Needs, and Communications of the Dying, Maggie Callahan and Patricia Kelley
The Innocent Man, John Grisham
The Alpine Scandal, Mary Daheim
The Ungrateful Daughters: The Stuart Princesses Who Stole Their Father's Crown, Maureen Waller
The Orphaned Adult, Alexander Levy
The Rise of Benedict XVI: The Inside Story of How the Pope Was Elected and Where He Will Take the Catholic Church, John Allen
All the Pope's Men: The Inside Story of How the Vatican Really Thinks, John Allen
Opus Dei: An Objective Look Behind the Myths and Reality of the Most Controversial Force in the Catholic Church, John Allen
A People Adrift: The Crisis of the Roman Catholic Church in America, Peter Steinfels
Le Divorce, Diane Johnson*
Le Mariage, Diane Johnson*
L'Affaire, Diane Johnson*
Christina, Queen of Sweden: The Restless Life of an European Eccentric, Veronica Buckley
Making Loss Matter: Creating Meaning in Difficult Times, Rabbi David Wolpe
When Bad Things Happen to Good People, Harold Kushner*
Battery Commander: Five Battle Stars (A World War II Memoir--October 1941 to December 1945), Captain James McLeod*
The Pope's Daughter: The Extraordinary Life of Felice Della Rovere, Caroline P. Murphy
Queen Isabella: Treachery, Adultery, and Murder in Medieval England, Alison Weir*
Eleanor of Aquitaine, Alison Weir*
Welcome to My Planet* (*Where English is Sometimes Spoken), Shannon Olson*
Children of God Go Bowling, Shannon Olson*
Snobs: A Novel, Julian Fellowes*
The Other Boleyn Girl, Philippa Gregory*
The Queen's Fool, Philippa Gregory*
The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova*
Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, John Berendt*
The City of Falling Angels, John Berendt*
My Invented Country: A Memoir, Isabel Allende*
Marie Antoinette, Antonia Fraser*
The Fig Eater, Jody Shields*
What the Dog Did: Tales From a Formerly Reluctant Dog Owner, Emily Yoffe
The Wives of Henry VIII, Antonia Fraser*
America's Women: 400 Years of Dolls, Drudges, Helpmates, and Heroines, Gail Collins*
Remembering the Good War: Minnesota's Greatest Generation, Thomas Saylor
Citizen Soldiers: The U.S. Army from the Normandy Beaches to the Bulge to the Surrender of Germany, June 7,1944, to May 7, 1945, Stephen Ambrose*
Voices of Valor: D-Day, June 6, 1944, Douglas Brinkley and Ronald J. Drez
Irish Girls About Town, Maeve Binchy et al*
Reading Lolita in Tehran: A Memoir in Books, Azar Nafisi*
The Time Traveler's Wife, Audrey Niffennegger*
Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Anne Lamott*
Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith, Anne Lamott*
After Long Silence: A Memoir, Helen Freemont*
Georgiana: Duchess of Devonshire, Amanda Foreman*
Packinghouse Daughter: A Memoir, Cheri Register*
The Devil in the White City: Murder, Magic, and Madness at the Fair that Changed America, Erik Larson*
Seabiscuit, Laura Hillenbrand
Catherine deMedici, Renaissance Queen of France, Leonie Frieda*
On the Threshold: Home, Hardwood, & Holiness, Elizabeth Andrew*
Our Greatest Gift: Meditations on Dying and Caring, Henri Nouwen
The Wounded Healer, Henri Nouwen
Mary Daheim mysteries*
The Not-So-Big Life, Susan Susanka
The Perfect Summer: England 1911, Just Before the Storm, Juliet Nicholson
Four Queens: The Provencal Sisters Who Ruled Europe, Nancy Goldstone
Ladies in Waiting: From the Tudors to the Present, Anne Somerset
Mysteries of the Middle Ages: The Rise of Feminism, Science, and Art From the Cults of Catholic Europe, Thomas Cahill
Princesses: The Six Daughters of George III, Flora Fraser
Singing Mother Home: A Daughter's Journey Through Anticipatory Grief, Donna S. Davenport
Dying Well: The Prospect for Growth at the End of Life, Ira R. Byock
A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis*
Praying Our Goodbyes, Joyce Rupp
The Needs of the Dying: A Guide for Bringing Hope, Comfort, and Love to Life's Final Chapter, David Kessler
The Pearl of Great Price: Gospel Wisdom for Married Couples, Julie McCarty
Motherless Daughters: Legacy of Loss, Hope Edelman

*reread in 2007

the work of christmas

2007-12-28T15:39:00.005-06:00

The Work of Christmas

When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flock,
The work of Christmas begins:
To find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoners,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among brothers,
To make music in the heart.
--Howard Thurman

top ten things i learned from my mother

2007-12-13T15:17:00.001-06:00

Top Ten Things I Learned From My Mother
(In No Particular Order)

She always told me that love is the only thing that really matters. You can lose your possessions, your job, and your health, but you can always hold on to the love. And in the final analysis, it's the only thing that makes life worth living.
Decorate your house with bookcases, because you can never have too many books! Nothing ever seems quite so bad if you can curl up with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa.
Class is not determined by money or social position; rather, a truly classy person is one who goes out of her way to make others feel comfortable and special. Classy people are warm and gracious.
You'll never get old if you are always interested in other people and continue to learn new things.
Life isn't fair. But that doesn't mean it can't still be good, even wonderful, if you retain a sense of gratitude and remember what really matters.
God does not send us tragedy and pain. But he does give us the strength to bear them, the courage to face them, and the grace to learn and grow from them.
Listen to your heart and follow your star. You never know where they might lead you!
Yes, you are your brother's--and your sister's--keeper. Always remember that "whatsoever you do unto the least of them, that you do unto me."
What others think of you doesn't matter. It's what you think of yourself that counts.
It takes more muscles to frown than to smile--and holding a grudge takes too much energy.

Plus Two Extra:

Never, ever, take the people you love for granted. And never hesitate to say "I love you."
Tough times don't last. But tough people do.

(NB: This is from the eulogy I gave at my mom's funeral on April 19, 2007)

still here

2007-12-10T15:54:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I'm still alive. I've been having a lot of migraines lately, which is the main reason I haven't been posting. I have one right now, in fact, so I'll just post a brief update:

I'm having a rough time coping with my mom's death; I've been really isolating myself and immersing myself in books and TV to avoid dealing with my grief. Not healthy, I know, and of course I'm missing her more desperately than ever now that Christmas is coming.
No, I'm not pregnant yet.
I'm also having a major identity crisis since filling for disability with my student loan provider. How do I rise above my illness(es)? I refuse to allow my sense of self to be equated with my disabilities--I'm just not sure how I can define myself anymore. And it's painful to accept the loss of so many of my dreams. There are many days (like today) when I feel basically worthless, that life is passing me by and I'm not really living, that because I'm not bringing home a paycheck I'm not an equal partner in my marriage (although George never makes me feel this way), that I'm not contributing anything to the world around me.
I am doing one thing, though--George and I are participating in the Basilica's JustFaith program. Actually I'm a co-facilitator. More on this later.
Well, two things. I'm singing with the St. Paul Seminary School of Divinity Chorale again this year. When I manage to make it to practice, anyway. Our big holiday concert (Lessons and Carols for the Baptism of the Lord) is on January 6; we're also doing a hymnfest in April and singing at the Archdiocesan diaconate ordination in May.

However, regarding my mom, I came across a quote about grief today that gives me some hope:

Only people who are capable of loving strongly can also suffer great sorrow. But this same necessity of loving serves to counteract the grief and heals them.
--Tolstoy

If mom's death has taught me anything, it's that broken hearts never completely mend, but at the same time they become infinitely expandable and more capable of love and gratitude than ever.

words to live by

2007-11-19T17:58:00.000-06:00

Life is rarely what we expect it might be, but we need to look for the lilies. We need to do what brings us joy and what gives us a sense of purpose.
--Elizabeth Edwards

Words to live by, especially for those of us with chronic illness who live with pain and disappointment on a daily basis, spoken by an amazing woman from the depths of her own experience.

photo finish

2007-10-27T22:15:00.001-05:00

(October 28--Em, I took your advice and re-cropped my photo, above. Much improved!)

Bored with watching the Red Sox blow their early lead tonight and tired of the Elasti-Girl pic in my profile, I've been fooling around with adding an actual photo of myself. I can't decide which one to use (partly because neither of them seem to look as well as I'd wish). If anyone has a preference, please help me decide!

Later: Going to the top of the ninth, the Sox have increased their lead, 9 to 5. Go Red Sox!!!

jubilation in red sox nation!!!

2007-10-25T15:43:00.000-05:00

Fiona celebrates the Red Sox's 13-1 victory over the Rockies in last night's World Series opener

seven truths

2007-10-25T13:38:00.000-05:00

My friend Liz tagged me to reveal seven true things about myself. So here goes!

1. I was adopted 39 years ago yesterday, October 24, at the age of five weeks.

2. I am Irish, English, French, German, Danish and Lithuanian; my adopted parents (although I think of them as my "real" parents!) were German (my dad) and German, English, Scottish and Cherokee (my mom).

3. My favorite comfort food is macaroni and cheese from Noodles.

4. When I was a little girl I wanted to be a priest and was sure that if I could just meet with the Pope I could convince him to let women become priests.

5. In college I worked for Senator Ted Kennedy and attended several parties at the Kennedy Compound in Hyannisport, Mass. I had first applied for an internship with Senator John Kerry because I thought I didn't have a prayer of getting a job in Ted's office. Then when Kerry turned me down, I figured I had nothing to lose so just for the heck of it I applied for the job in Kennedy's office--and got the position, even though they had already finished hiring for the summer and had to create a new position just for me!

Me with other Senate interns at Hyannisport clambake, summer 1989. Check out my huge '80s hair!

6. I am number 41 out of 44 grandchildren on my dad's side. He had ten siblings, all of whom were fruitful and multiplied. We are also a family of baseball freaks. I am the only grandchild and sole remaining descendant on my mom's side.

7. I was a political science and philosophy major at Boston College, with an interdisciplinary minor in Faith, Peace and Justice studies.

I am supposed to tag seven other people, but I think everyone I know has already been hit. If anyone reading this hasn't, consider yourself tagged!

four years?!

2007-10-12T20:56:00.000-05:00

Yesterday George and I celebrated four years of wedded bliss by sleeping all evening. Last year he was sick, then this year neither of us felt well, so I suppose at this rate next year Fiona will be under the weather as well. At least we were both feeling wonderful on our wedding day! Besides, celebrating our marriage is hardly a once-a-year deal; it's something that happens everyday, one way or another. (Well, almost everyday!)

As grateful as I've always been for the gift of George in my life, this past year, as we've struggled with my mom's illness and death, has added a new dimension to my gratitude. He has been so loving and supportive throughout the whole ordeal. Without him I think--no, I know--I would have completely fallen apart. He's the one who keeps me going even on the loneliest, darkest days.

We've been through a lot together during these past four years in addition to my mom's death: my fibromyalgia, depression, ptsd and other assorted health problems, our constant money worries, not being able to have children, and his mom's declining health. It hasn't always been easy. But it has always been worth it. I can't imagine the world without him in it.

a house divided no more

2007-10-10T21:43:00.000-05:00

Last week we were a house divided, with me rooting for the Red Sox, Fiona cheering on the Cubs, and George pulling for the Phillies. While we are all, first and foremost fans of our beloved Twins, I am a Red Sox fan after spending my college years in Boston, George worked at a TV station in Philly for a while which I guess explains his strange (in my opinion) prediliction for the Phillies, while Fiona falls into the Cubs camp because her nickname is "Miss Wiggly Field." (Although all three of us have a soft spot for the Cubs.)

So a household crisis was narrowly averted last week by the losses of both the Cubs and the Phillies in postseason play. What if the Cubs had played the Phillies in the NLCS? Or even worse, what if the Cubs or Phillies had played the Red Sox in the World Series? Now we are all safely cheering on the BoSox. YAY BOSTON!!!!!

Fiona sadly contemplates the Cubs' postseason record

the post with no name

2007-09-01T18:55:00.000-05:00

I can't come up with a name for this post. Is it because I'm still in shock? My mind doesn't seem to be functioning at full speed the last few days (well, actually, that's not entirely abnormal, but right now I feel that I need my mind to click on for once). A couple of days ago I found out that my dear friend and former matron of honor, Emilie, has cancer. Which is impossible. I just saw her a week ago at her adorable little son's first birthday party. She looked so pretty, so happy. And I felt so envious (yes, I'm a shit--it's just that I want a baby of my own so desperately). Now, only a few days later, this.

I am really angry with You, God, over this.

I keep thinking about what a horrible word "cancer" is. Look at how we use it in everyday language. "The Justice Department is a cancer growing on our democracy." "She flashed him a malignant look, and he knew there would be no hanky-panky tonight." I mean, it's as though the damn word takes on a life of its own, becoming yet another burden those afflicted by the disease have to carry around.

Sorry, I know I'm rambling...

My heart is just bleeding for Emilie and Stephen and little Daniel. I love them like family and just cannot believe this is happening.

Emilie, I've got my aunties and the Jesuits (New Orleans Province Prayer Circle, that is) praying for you, and George's family, and George and me, of course. I wish I could carry some of this burden for you, dear. If I could have my way, I'd take it and carry it all for you myself. You are the last person in the world this should happen to. Please remember that we will be here for you every minute of every day.

You CAN do this. You are not your cancer. You are still the same beautiful Emilie as always.

august update

2007-08-19T21:23:00.000-05:00

I'm trying to keep busy. Our social life has taken off somewhat (well, compared to before anyway) and recently we've been getting together with friends and family more, and even went to a wedding yesterday (congratulations Meg and Joe!!!!!!!). A couple of weeks ago I took a four-day class at The Loft about writing the short personal essay, and I have two pieces I'm working on: one about my mother's rosary and her legacy, and another about my first trip out to Fort Snelling to visit my mom's grave. It is MUCH harder to write short than to write long! I've been journaling quite a bit too, which helps me deal with my grief, a little, although of course it's not enough.

Last Sunday I finally went to Mass at the Basilica for the first time since mom's funeral. It was as emotionally wrenching as I had expected, although I'm still glad I went, despite the buckets of tears I wept. Ah well. It wasn't the first time I've cried at Mass, and I imagine it won't be the last.

And I need to thank everyone who responded to my post earlier this summer, when I was feeling awfully desperate. Your messages of friendship and caring made me feel that I was not alone and were SO comforting; grief is mighty lonely and such a long hard agonizing slog it's sometimes hard for me to believe I might actually live through it.

There is a poem I can't stop thinking about that I first read not long after my dad died; it's even more poignant now that mom is gone too. It captures all my aching loneliness, my anger over what is gone from me forever, my sense of despair and crushing loss. And my broken heart. By Edna St. Vincent Millay, this particular poem keeps reverberating in my mind, day after day:

Dirge Without Music

I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground.
So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind.
Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned
With lilies and laurel they go; but I am not resigned.

Lovers and thinkers, into the earth with you.
Be one with the dull, the indiscriminate dust.
A fragment of what you felt, of what you knew.
A formula, a phrase remains.--but the best is lost.

The answers quick and keen, the honest look, the laughter, the love--
They are gone. They are gone to feed the roses.
Elegant and curled
Is the blossom. Fragrant is the blossom. I know.
But I do not approve.
More precious was the light in your eyes than all the roses in the world.

Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave.
Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind.
Quietly they go, the intelligent, the witty, the brave.
I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned.

--Edna St. Vincent Millay

My parents on their wedding day in 1963

They are now buried together in the same grave at Fort Snelling National Cemetery

tragedy on the river

2007-08-04T19:41:00.000-05:00

Like everyone else, I think I'm still in shock over the 35W bridge collapse. George was out for a run on the Stone Arch Bridge and actually saw the bridge come down. A cousin of mine drove over the bridge less than half an hour before it collapsed. I found out today that one of the deceased was a parishioner of a priest I was friends with back in graduate school. If the collapse had happened during rush hour next week instead of this, I might very well have been on it myself; I'm taking a class at The Loft (it's in the Open Book Building on Washington Avenue) next week and the 35W bridge would have been part of my route home. And I can't even begin to count the number of times I've been on that bridge, especially when I lived in south Minneapolis; I was probably on it three to four times a week, and when I worked for the Wellstone campaign that was how I got to work.

George is beginning to have a delayed reaction to the trauma of seeing the bridge fall into the river, and I'm still freaked out because he usually runs along the river road UNDER the bridge--he didn't Wednesday because it was so hot and he was tired, so he took a shorter route--but he could have been crushed under tons of concrete and steel. Fate is so random. We are all so vulnerable, at every moment, a fact we usually manage to forget, until a sudden unspeakable tragedy occurs and we are forced to face the reality that we aren't the ones in control after all.

I know we're all lucky as a community that there weren't more fatalities, but that must be small comfort to those who lost their loved ones that day. John Donne was right when he wrote "Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee." We are all the lesser for the loss of those beautiful people--each of them someone's father, mother, brother, son, daughter, sister--who died on Wednesday, whether we knew them or not.

All of this reminds me of what my mom always said: Life is too short not to say "I love you." Or in the words of Father Kevin McDonough at a prayer service at St. Olaf earlier this week:

We live only for a short time and are not promised tomorrow. Be grateful for today and be a blessing to somebody else.

Amen.

dirty little secret

2007-06-14T15:15:00.000-05:00

The dirty little secret about death that no one ever seems to talk about is that the funeral is the easy part. The hardest part is learning to live without the person you loved so much. And by then everyone else has gone on with their busy lives and either don't care or want to hear about it or maybe just don't want to take the time and effort to pick up the phone for ten minutes a couple of times a month and just ask, "How are you doing? Would you like to have lunch, or maybe go to a matinee, or just talk awhile?" With a very few exceptions, everyone--family, friends--I thought I could count on are just...gone. And when I do try to reach out, it's very awkward, as though they don't really want to talk anyway.

It's just unbearable, the loneliness. I would like to die, I really would, and be with mom and dad again. I don't feel as though I have much here left to live for. George would remarry. I don't have any children who would miss (nor will I ever). Apparently none of my extended family would miss me too much. My biggest stumbling block is that I don't know who I would leave my family mementos too, because I can't think of any of my cousins who would cherish my dad's things the way I do. And since barely any of them bothered to show up for my mom's funeral or even send a card, I know no one would treasure her pictures and writings as I do. And I don't have any life insurance, so I don't know how George could afford to bury me.

Anyway, I made an emergency appointment with my therapist for tomorrow. She's paid to care, after all, so maybe that will help. It would be nice to not cry myself to sleep every night.

life these days

2007-06-06T20:16:00.000-05:00

I am a teary, sweaty, fat little ball of grief these days, mostly huddled on the couch watching CNN (or the Twins but sometimes, like most of their recent road trip, that just intensifies the grief) or flipping through magazines
Everything reminds me of my mom. which, of course, makes me cry.
Every time I try to tackle the mountain of thank you notes staring me in the face I cry and cry until I make myself sick. Something about doing them makes the loss so real or so final, or something. I'd be lying if I said I understood it.
I'd sell my soul for one more phone call, or even more, just one more hug.
I finally brought flowers out to Fort Snelling on Memorial day. Mom and dad are buried in the same plot and share the same headstone, dad on the front, mom on the back. Ever since going out there I feel as though I've lost him all over again, too.
A couple of weeks ago mom's nursing home called to inform me that we owe them $1600. (A long story that involves mom's social worker repeatedly giving me the wrong information over the past few months and reassuring the mom's Medical Assistance was covering everything. It wasn't. The social worker is now in Fargo, however, and out of my reach and of course the billing office doesn't care.)
The next day a hail storm visited us and inflicted thousands of dollars in damage to our roof, siding, screens, window frames, and George's car.
The next day I started shaking uncontrollably. This was on a Thursday. I didn't stop until George brought me to Urgent Care on Saturday and the doctor prescribed Xanax (a tranquilizer). She should have just shot me with a tranquilizer dart and be done with it instead of giving me pills.
I started shaking when we were discussing how I could go to graduate school while we were trying to pay back the $7,000 we borrowed for mom's funeral plus all of the above. Obviously, we did not come up with an answer.
I keep having horrible nightmares that mom is angry with me and I don't know why. I wake up sobbing and drenched--soaked--in sweat.
All I want to eat are cinnamon rolls. Mom always had them for me when I went to visit her, so they are now my sweet gooey comfort food of choice. Hardly any of my clothes fit.
My rosacea is terrrible. I keep getting pustules on my forehead and cheeks, which has never ever happened before. It started right after the funeral.
I've had an ulcer since I found out mom wasn't going to get better. That was around mid-January. It HURTS and I'm on medication twice a day.
I now have a bad sinus infection too.
I keep remembering something my both of my parents used to tell me: Tough times don't last, but tough people do. But I feel so lost without them, like I'm only partially a person now, as though something crucial died with them.

d-day plus 63 years

2007-06-06T19:19:00.000-05:00

Leonard H. Resch
U.S. Army
Third Assault Wave, Omaha Beach, Normandy, France
June 6, 1944

"They may be older now, and grayer now, and their ranks are growing thin, but when these men were young, these men saved the world"
--President Bill Clinton
June 6, 1994
Omaha Beach

Note: My dad served with an artillery unit rather than the infantry, which is why he lucked out and was in the third wave rather than, say, the first. The third wave took only around 50% casualties whereas the first wave sustained about 90% casualties.

you've got the cutest little baby face

2007-05-10T17:22:00.000-05:00

My mom would be 79 years old today (Liz, thanks for remembering~!). I discovered this photo in my Grandma Baach's things last January and I still laugh every time I look at it. She looks so cuddly! And the expression on her face--and the dimple in her chin--are totally priceless.

I was planning to go out to the cemetery today for the first time but I don't think I'm quite ready to face the whole visiting the grave thing. And mom would be the last person to push me to do it if it doesn't feel right. "It's okay sweetie," she'd tell me. "You can find another way to remember me today." (Actually, this sounds crazy, but I actually heard her say this this earlier today. It wasn't the first time I've heard her, either. It happens all the time. And she's always right...she did promise me that she'd never leave me...) So George and I are going to see Hot Fuzz or rent Borat tonight.

Mom always did love hearing me laugh.

the fog begins to lift

2007-05-05T20:42:00.000-05:00

The presence of that absence is everywhere
--Edna St. Vincent Millay

In a few hours it will be exactly three weeks since my mom died. For some reason, I can't get the memory of reaching over and closing her eyes after she quit breathing out of my head.

The last three weeks I have been mostly numb, stumbling around in some sort of fog. But the last couple of days, the fog has begun to lift, and I have to say that I really, REALLY miss it, now that the realization that she's gone, forever, that I'll never see that warm and beautiful smile, or hear her voice on the telephone, or give her a hug ever again is starting to set in. It's beyond belief, the pain is. My heart hurts, literally, actually hurts, like it is breaking and shattering into a million pieces, my eyes are red and sore and puffy (my whole face is for that matter) because I can't stop crying, and I feel like I can't breathe. I can't concentrate, can't sleep, can't function very much if at all.

I am dreading the next week. She would have been 79 years old on Thursday. And now I have another reason to dread Mother's Day.

I'm sure that someday I will be able to feel grateful that I had the chance to say goodbye, to be with her when she died--I've been haunted for years by the fact that my dad died so suddenly, always wondering if he really knew just how much I loved him. Adored him. That someday I will find pleasure and comfort in my memories, that the pain will recede, and I will be able to feel her presence. I know this, intellectually. But it's the kind of knowledge that hasn't found its way into my heart yet. All I know is that I've not only lost my mother; I've lost my best friend too.

I want to thank all of you who have been so supportive and thoughtful during all of this, and ask you to please be patient with me now. Your friendship means more to me than you'll ever know.

funeral today

2007-04-19T16:12:00.000-05:00

I'm too exhausted to write about the funeral today...but I did want to write something in honor of the occasion. So here are the quotes I used in my eulogy:

"Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is only a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limitation of our sight."
--Rossiter Worthington Raymond

"We do best homage to our dead by living our lives fully even in the shadow of our loss."
--Jewish proverb

And mom's favorite prayer, the Prayer of St. Francis:

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
Where there is hatred, let me sow love,
Where there is injury, pardon,
Where there is doubt, faith:
Where there is despair, hope;
Where there is darkness, light;
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine master, grant that I may not so much seek
To be consoled as to console,
To be understood as to understand,
To be loved as to love;
For it is in giving that we receive;
It is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
And it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
--St. Francis of Assisi

she's gone

2007-04-17T11:27:00.000-05:00

Mildred Elaine Resch
Born May 10, 1928
Died April 15, 2007

Mom died at 12:40 am Sunday morning. George and I were both with her, and I held her hand all evening, until she drew her last breath. She suffered tremendously the last few days--I was praying that God would speed things up--but her last few hours were peaceful. I sang to her, kept talking to her and telling her I was there, it wouldn't be much longer until she would be home, with daddy and grandma and everyone she's missed for so long. The last several hours she was nonresponsive, so at one point, probably about 45 minutes before she died, I asked her to squeeze my hand if she knew I was there. And she squeezed.

George and I said the rosary and in her last hour, I prayed the Commendation for the Dying for her:

Go forth, Christian soul, from this world
in the name of God the almighty Father
who created you,
in the name of Jesus Christ, Son of the living God,
who suffered for you,
in the name of the Holy Spirit,
who was poured out upon you,
go forth, faithful Christian.

May you live in peace this day,
may your home be with God in Zion,
with Mary, the virgin Mother of God,
with Joseph, and all the angels and saints.

I commend you to almighty God,
and entrust you to your creator.
May you return to him
who formed you from the dust of the earth.
May holy Mary, the the angels, and all the saints
come to meet you as you go forth from this life.
may Christ who was crucified for you
bring you freedom and peace.
May Christ who died for you,
admit you into his garden of paradise.
May Christ, the true Shepherd,
acknowledge you as one of his flock.
May he forgive all your sins,
and set you among those he has chosen.
May you see your Redeemer face to face,
and enjoy the vision of God forever.

Her obituary is in the StarTribune today.

Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord,
and may perpetual light shine upon her.
May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed
rest in peace.
Amen.

looks like this is it

2007-04-12T17:39:00.000-05:00

Mom has been declining rapidly this week and was diagnosed with pneumonia today. She has elected not to treat it with anitbiotics. Her nurse practitioner told me that she will probably die within the week, possibly within the next few days.

Rejoice, heavenly powers!

2007-04-09T21:39:00.000-05:00

If you want to know what holds me together--and has for years--it's the Exsultet. This once a year Easter proclamation is my rock. It is proclaimed, usually sung, by the priest at Easter vigil after the lighting of the Easter candle, once in Latin and once in English. For me, it's the climax of the year, it's the way I make sense of my life, it's my comfort and my hope. It gives me the courage to get our of bed in the morning, knowing that today I will go to visit my mom and witness her suffering. I have never made it through listening to the entire Exsultet with crying: I probably never will!

The Exsultet

Rejoice, heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels!
Exult, all creation around God's throne!
Jesus Christ, our King, is risen!
Sound the trumpet of salvation!

Rejoice, O earth, in shining splendor,
radiant in the brightness of your King!
Christ has conquered! Glory fills you!
Darkness vanishes for ever!

Rejoice, O Mother Church! Exult in glory!
The risen Savior shines upon you!
Let this place resound with joy,
echoing the mighty song of all God's people!

[My dearest friends, standing with me in this holy light,
join me in asking God for mercy,
that he may give his unworthy minister
grace to sing his Easter praises.]

[V. The Lord be with you.
R. And also with you.]
V. Lift up your hearts.
R. We lift them up to the Lord.
V. Let us give thanks to the Lord our God.
R. It is right to give him thanks and praise.

It is truly right
that with full hearts and minds and voices
we should praise the unseen God, the all-powerful Father,
and his only Son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

For Christ has ransomed us with his blood,
and paid for us the price of Adam's sin
to our eternal Father!

This is our passover feast,
when Christ, the true Lamb, is slain,
whose blood consecrates the homes of all believers.

This is the night when first you saved our fathers:
you freed the people of Israel from their slavery
and led them dry-shod through the sea.

This is the night when the pillar of fire
destroyed the darkness of sin!

This is the night when Christians everywhere,
washed clean of sin
and freed from all defilement,
are restored to grace and grow together in holiness.

This is the night when Jesus Christ
broke the chains of death
and rose triumphant from the grave.

What good would life have been to us,
had Christ not come as our Redeemer?

Father, how wonderful your care for us!
How boundless your merciful love!
To ransom a slave
you gave away your Son.

O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam,
which gained for us so great a Redeemer!

Most blessed of all nights, chosen by God
to see Christ rising from the dead!

Of this night scripture says:
"The night will be as clear as day:
it will become my light, my joy."

The power of this holy night
dispels all evil, washes guilt away,
restores lost innocence, brings mourners joy;
it casts out hatred, brings us peace, and humbles earthly pride.

Night truly blessed when heaven is wedded to earth
and man is reconciled with God!

Therefore, heavenly Father, in the joy of this night,
receive our evening sacrifice of praise,
your Church's solemn offering.

Accept this Easter candle,
a flame divided but undimmed,
a pillar of fire that glows to the honor of God.

Let it mingle with the lights of heaven
and continue bravely burning
to dispel the darkness of this night!

May the morning Star which never sets find this flame still burning:
Christ, that Morning Star, who came back from the dead,
and shed his peaceful light on all mankind,
your Son who lives and reigns for ever and ever.
R. Amen.

mom on the web

2007-03-22T21:00:00.000-05:00

Just a quick note: I set up a website for my mom with updates, photos, etc. at caringbridge.org.

I've been having hellish migraines since last week, so I can't stay on any longer, but I have to thank everyone who has sent messages recently for your kindness and compassion. When I can't sleep, I lie in bed and think about all of you, and I feel so blessed. You guys mean the world to me.

mom, 1950's

2007-03-12T22:49:00.000-05:00

hospice

2007-03-12T21:42:00.000-05:00

Mom has officially been in hospice for over a week now. She got pneumonia (which can be very deadly with emphysema) a couple of weeks ago (that's why she was listed in the intercessions, Emilie) but has apparetnly pulled through okay. The doctors tell me she has multi-systemic organ failure, all related to the emphysema of course, but this includes not only her lungs (pulmonary hypertension)but right-sided heart failure, atrial fibrillation, and her kidneys are starting to shut down a bit.

Now that she's in hospice she's a lot more comfortable because of the new medications they've added. So that is a huge comfort, anyway. I'm so grateful that she's able to still enjoy life. And most of our family has really rallied around her, too.

But I've been having panic attacks and constant nightmares, despite the wonderful support I've been receiving from some people. I'm seeing my doctor tomorrow, so hopefully she'll have some ideas.

Please keep all of us in your prayers.

And Liz, I'm wearing my prayer shawl at this very moment!

There is also the possibility that what they saw on her chest x-ray wasn't pneumonia at all, but a malignancy. it doesn't really matter, because the emphysema would likely kill her before the cancer did.

finally back online

2007-02-26T20:57:00.000-06:00

I haven't been online for over a week now because I've been down with the Mother of all Flu Bugs. Mom continues to decline. A week ago last Friday she almost didn't make it through the night, and received the Last Rites of the Catholic Church; she's continuing to be more and more short of breath and is having further heart problems. She had another close call last night. She's supposed to re-evaluated for hospice admission this week.

the last valentine's day

2007-02-15T15:51:00.000-06:00

I've finally started to let go and cry when I feel like it instead of holding it in which, I am informed by my doctor, is much healthier and may even help my ulcer. But now my face is blotchy all the time, and sore. My darling friend Liz (of Random Thoughts of a Lutheran Geek) sent me a prayer shawl last month which I keep wrapped around me constantly, and I keep Fiona close by (or I should say she refuses to leave me side). I need to find other ways to take care of myself, though, so I can be there for mom.

At mom's care conference Tuesday, the staff said that her condition is stablilized, mostly, in my opinion, because she's up to her eyeballs in meds--she gets nebulizer treatments every four hours and now has liquid morphine on order for when she needs it, etc. Her doctor, nurse practitioner, and hospice nurse and social worker are meeting later this month to further discuss "end of life" issues, hospice evaluation, etc.

We are moving her things from her apartment this weekend, and I'm really dreading it. I bawled and bawled last night when I realized that it was our last Valentine's Day together. I'm already losing the mom I've always known due to her declining condition, and there are times (i.e. right now) I just feel that...I...can't...bear it.

Sorry my blog has been so depressing lately. I'm sure reading about all of this is a drag, and I'd love to be inspirational and optimistic and seeing the best of everything. But you know, I try to do that everyday with my mom, and most of the time I don't have anything else left in me. I just DREAD mornings because it's time to face another day.

Francie

2007-02-04T17:20:00.000-06:00

My mom called to ask me if Francie, the little russet-colored woolly puppy I brought her when she first went in the hospital before Christmas, could be buried with her.

Do broken hearts really mend?

Life is eternal, and love is immortal, and death is a horizon, and a horizon is nothing save the limit of our sight.
--Rossiter Worthington Raymond

down again

2007-02-04T17:00:00.000-06:00

Last Friday, mom's new nurse practitioner called with a few questions, and to set up a care conference for Feb. 13. Apparently mom was never evaluated for hospice at the last place despite promises that she would be. So I think they are finally going to begin doing the necessary lung function tests, etc., that Medicare requires for hospice placement. Regardless, the nurse warned me that mom's lung tissues are so damaged she doesn't have much time left.

I'm too tired to write anymore. But Jane and Missy, if you're reading this, thank you so much for your comments. I've read them over and over again. God bless you both--and the same to Liz, Liz, Emilie, and everyone else for your caring comments and prayers. Some days it's the only thing that keeps me going.

living the life of riley

2007-01-27T21:15:00.000-06:00

Mom's not quite ready for hospice yet; it is, apparently, especially tricky to predict how much time a person with emphysema might have left. I checked the doctors' notes in her chart (I'm now legally her agent for health care, and I've got financial power of attorney as well) and every doctor confirms that she is now in end-stage emphysema with related heart complications. And there's no question that she needs 24-hour nursing care which means, in other words, a nursing home.

But here's where the GOOD news comes in: Thursday I moved her to St. Therese Care Center in New Hope, which is about a 5-10 minute drive from our house!!!! She loves it there already. Yesterday morning, when the social worker called to give me mom's new phone number, she mentioned that mom was at rosary and fitting in on the unit very well. And today on the phone, my mom was gloating about going to Happy Hour yesterday afternoon--which turned out to include wine (between the availability of wine and the rosary in the morning, you've probably guessed the place is run by Catholics--Benedictines, to be specific) and a sing-along, two of my mom's favorite things. Apparently she is living the life of Riley now, and reveling in every minute.

And as for me, although I'm still worried about her diagnosis, I'm so relieved she's out of that other nursing home--the one where they took her into breakfast without hooking up her oxygen (oh, did I do some yelling when I found out about that). I really worried about the level of care she was getting there. And there was really no mental or social stimulation at the place.

St. Therese appears to be exactly the opposite. I know they have a stellar reputation, and what still amazes me is that they happened to have an opening and that they actually take Medical Assistance, Yay!!!! I didn't dare hope I could find such a nice place for her to stay long-term. They also have a terrific Palliative/Hospice Care Unit, but please God, not for a while yet...

I'm hoping to make it to Happy Hour next Friday myself! (Family IS invited!)

I'm now the keeper of all our family photos, and I found a portrait of my mom when she was in her mid-twenties. Wasn't she a looker?

holocaust remembrance day

2007-01-27T20:34:00.000-06:00

During WWII, my dad's outfit helped liberate a small camp somewhere in the Hartz mtn. area of Germany, near the infamous camps of Nordhausen and Buchenwald. I don't know anything more about it, because although he told me a few bits and pieces about D-Day, and the Battle of the Bulge, and the push through Germany, the camps were the one thing he'd refused to talk about. Please, Daddy, you must at least remember the name of the camp, I'd coax. That's when he'd bury his face behind the newspaper and mumble, Nope. Don't remember. And I knew better than to press any further. (I've tried to find out which one of the camps it was, but apparently the entire area was simply crawling with them; I'll probably never know which one it was.)

He did tell me one thing, when I was working on a paper about the Holocaust for a college course: It was a work camp, not a death camp, he said. But, he added, there wasn't a hell of a lot of difference between them. My dad didn't anger easily (except whenever Ronald Reagan was on TV) but I never saw him angrier that the night we watched an episode of 60 Minutes that featured Neo-Nazi Holocaust deniers. Eisenhower said this would happen, he sputtered. That's why he made them take so many pictures.

After my dad died, I found his own snapshots. And finally understood why he never talked about the camps. Because every time I look at them I, quite literally, feel as though I'm about to vomit. And I wasn't even there. (Somehow, probably because they were taken by my dad, they seem more real to me than the many other Holocaust pictures I've seen.)

So, now that we finally have a printer with a scanner, I can in my own small way honor my father's legacy and be a witness to history, that those who perished, all six million of them, will never be forgotten. May they live forever in our memories and our hearts.

NEVER AGAIN!!!!!

brief update

2007-01-20T15:14:00.000-06:00

Mom is being evaluated for hospice now. I don't know how long the process will take. Once she's eligible, I'm hoping we can find a way to bring her home so I can care for her. I want her to die at home, with me holding her, not in some strange nursing home.

People who have worked with the dying have, apparently, found that quite often the dying person knows better than the doctors when they will die. The other day I asked my mom how long she thinks she might live and she told me she didn't have a sense that death was imminent, but it won't be a very long time. Maybe six months, she told me.

I'm too wiped out to post anymore right now. If I could, I'd just not get out of bed, but there's too much to do, and as an only child, I'm the only one who can do it. But I'm going to go hide under the covers for a while now anyway.

the rain and the wind

2007-01-15T20:49:00.000-06:00

My mom sounded good on the phone today, not huffing and puffing as she usually does during conversation these days. Of course, every day she tells me things are rosy and peachy and oh so wonderful, and I have no way to verify this since I have a cold and can't get near her right now for obvious reasons. However, I have found that her opinion of her progress and that of her medical team quite often are so divergent as to bear no relation to each other whatsoever. The other day she was telling me she thought she'd be back in her apartment soon--the day after her medical team recommended 24-hour nursing care!

Thursday, we meet with a caseworker and a nurse from Allina Palliative and Hospice Care to go over her advance directive and discuss her eligibility for hospice. My feeling is that she's not quite, yet, but is getting close.

The rain to the wind said,
"You push and I'll pelt."
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt.
And lay lodged--though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.
--Robert Frost

let me call you sweetheart

2007-01-14T11:50:00.000-06:00

At our wedding dance, I asked the DJ to dedicate the song "Let Me Call You Sweetheart" to my mom. I love this picture from the wedding; every time I look at it, I'm reminded how very, very much I am loved. A mother's love is an incredible, powerful thing (as you moms out there realize!). I often imagine God's love for us as something similar, like being cradled gently in my mom's arms, enveloped by a love so deep and enduring that it's beyond comprehension, a love that is pure gift.

Just like my mom's love has always been pure gift.

as we remember them

2007-01-13T15:42:00.001-06:00

I meant to post this yesterday in memory of my dad, but was so overwhelmed with my mom's illness I never managed to get it done...however, I don't want the anniversary of his death to pass without doing anything in his memory. This is a Jewish prayer I found in a book about grief after he died, and I've always found it to be a tremendous comfort; it expresses so many of the feelings about grief and loss, and the world to come that I've come to believe since he died. He's always with me now; I can feel him patting me on the back and saying gruffly, "Good job, kid" or "hang in there kid, you're stronger than you think" or just being with me, smiling at me with that beloved twinkle in his blue eyes. So here's to you, daddy:

We Remember Them
In the rising of the sun and in its going down,
we remember them.
In the blowing of the wind and in the chill of winter,
we remember them.
In the opening of buds and in the rebirth of spring,
we remember them.
In the blueness of the sky and in the warmth of summer,
we remember them.
In the rustling of leaves and in the beauty of autumn,
we remember them.
In the beginning of the year and when it ends,
we remember them.
When we are weary and in need of strength,
we remember them.
When we are lost and sick at heart,
we remember them.
When we have joys we yearn to share,
we remember them.
So long as we live, they too shall live,
for they are now a part of us, as
we remember them.

numb, but not from the january cold

2007-01-12T20:59:00.000-06:00

It seems like a lifetime ago that I was distraught over the idea of my mom going to assisted living. Instead, it now looks doubtful she will ever leave the nursing home. Her emphysema has worsened to the point she needs 24-hour nursing care; it might have been nice if the staff had been honest about this before the care conference yesterday, but oh well. Yesterday I helped her change her "code status" in her chart from "full code" (meaning that if the patient goes into respiratory or cardiac arrest, any and all all resucitation methods necessary to revive and sustain life, from ventilators to CPR, must be utilized) to DNI/DNR (meaning Do Not Intubate [putting her on a ventilator to breathe for her]/Do Not Resucitate [no CPR]).

Okay, so to put it another way: She's Dying.

In fact, she looks and sounds just like my uncles died in the months and weeks before they died from emphysema.

Today seems to be "Barbara's Day to Deal with Grief and Loss." My dad died of a massive coronary fourteen years ago today. All these years it's haunted me that I never got to say goodbye to him. At least this time, with my mom, I get the chance. I'm sure I'd feel grateful for this, if I could feel anything at all, which I can't, except for a sense that if I start to cry now I WILL NEVER BE ABLE TO STOP. Yesterday afternoon we worked on her obituary and discussed what songs she'd like at her funeral. Ave Maria, of course, Hail, Holy Queen, and Eagle's Wings.

good news not so good, after all

2007-01-10T15:07:00.000-06:00

Yesterday I did what was, I think, the hardest thing I've ever had to do in my life: I had to tell my mom that when she leaves the nursing home she will probably need to go into an assisted living facility rather than be able to return to the little apartment she loves so much. She took it well--no tears, hysterics, etc.,--but I know her so well that the look on her face (which I could tell she was trying to control, probably to keep from upsetting me) told me exactly how devastated she felt.

Tomorrow we have a "care conference" scheduled with her social worker, physical therapist, nurse practitioner, etc., to discuss her discharge planning. I'm hoping that maybe--a big maybe--she could stay in her apartment and just have more help come in on a daily basis, like home health care aides, that kind of thing, but I'm not sure she could manage even then. I just don't know; everything's up in the air right now. The bottom line is that her heart and lung problems are making it impossible for her to recover at the rate she (and I) were hoping.

So please know that if I seem out of touch or something that it's not that you guys don't matter to me anymore. I'm just so overwhelmed; my depression is kicking in and I'm so weepy I can't seem to get anything done. I guess I'm saving up all of my energy so that I can be strong when I'm with my mom.

Do not look forward to what may happen tomorrow; the same everlasting Father who cares for you today will take care of you tomorrow, and everyday. Either God will shield you from suffering, or God will give you unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace, then, and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations
--St Francis de Sales

good news!!!

2007-01-08T13:49:00.000-06:00

This is going to be short (like me) because I am totally doped up on a very (very very) sedating drug for my fibromyalgia; in fact I have been for the last few days, which is why I haven't posted sooner.

Anyway, my mom is doing much better! Yay!!!! She is finally starting to look and seem more like her usual self. She's undergoing rehab in a a nursing home right now, and is improving daily.

I'll write more, and return emails, etc., later today after I (YAWN!!!) wake up more. Obviously it's time to cut back on the fibro meds....

Thanks for all of your good wishes and prayers. I don't think I could have made it through this scare without them. Hugs to each of you!

well, this is a relief

2006-12-30T14:52:00.000-06:00

You scored as Chalcedon compliant.
You are Chalcedon compliant. Congratulations,
you're not a heretic. You believe that Jesus is
truly God and truly man and like us in every respect,
apart from sin. Officially approved in 451.

Chalcedon compliant

100%

Pelagianism

67%

Nestorianism

58%

Modalism

33%

Monophysitism

33%

Arianism

Apollanarian

Adoptionist

Docetism

Donatism

Albigensianism

Monarchianism

Gnosticism

Socinianism

Are you a heretic?
created with QuizFarm.com

But now I have to go look up Pealgianism, etc., in my old Christian history textbooks, and find out why I have elements of heresy in me! Look out for the Inquisition!!

no surprise here

2006-12-30T14:16:00.000-06:00

You scored as Roman Catholic. You are Roman Catholic.
Church tradition and ecclesial authority are hugely important,
and the most important part of worship for you is mass.
As the Mother of God, Mary is important in your theology,
and as the communion of saints includes the living and
the dead, you can also ask the saints to intercede for you.

Roman Catholic

100%

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan

82%

Neo orthodox

68%

Emergent/Postmodern

46%

Modern Liberal

46%

Classical Liberal

39%

Charismatic/Pentecostal

39%

Reformed Evangelical

11%

Fundamentalist

What's your theological worldview?
created with QuizFarm.com

So at least I know I'll be getting my M.Div at the right school for me...

maybe there's hope for me after all

2006-12-28T15:40:00.000-06:00

"The process of becoming a person begins with a mess."
--Jung

back to the hospital

2006-12-24T13:38:00.000-06:00

My mom is back in the hospital with atrial fibullation (sp?) and possible congestive heart failure.

another blow

2006-12-20T10:38:00.001-06:00

So we no longer need to worry about how to afford a Chinese adoption, as the Chinese government in their wisdom is instituting new requirements that bar anyone taking antidepressants from becoming an adoptive parents. HELLO, depression is a very treatable BIOLOGICAL illness!!!!! What century are these people living in anyway?

And how many other countries, agencies, etc., are going to think George and I are unqualified because I'm being treated for depression?

I am so angry about being stigmatized in this way, and so terrified we'll never be able to adopt, that I've been throwing up all morning. And that is, for the record, NOT because I'm taking antidepressants. It's because, with all of the scientific research confirming the biological basis of depression, I naively thought such ignorance and bigotry was a thing of the past.

I would be a better mother than a lot of people who've never seen a shrink in their entire lives. So there!

update

2006-12-18T12:45:00.000-06:00

Mom sounded better this morning on the phone. She was finally able to sleep last night and is breathing better. She's probably going to be in the hospital for a while, although I'm hoping she'll be out by Xmas. I've been reading up on emphysema and apparently as the disease progresses, these kind of episodes become more common; I guess what I'm really having a hard time dealing with right now is the knowledge that her emphysema is getting worse. I watched two uncles whom I loved very much die of this disease, and it's a horrible, horrible way to die. It's like suffocating to death very slowly, over the course of months and years. As much as I dread the thought of losing my mom, seeing her suffer is going to be far worse.

I am trying to be strong and keep a positive attitude for her--she always worries more about me than about herself--but it's difficult. I don't know what I'd do without George, he's being just WONDERFUL. I still can't believe how lucky I am to have him.

when it rains it pours

2006-12-17T15:42:00.000-06:00

More bad news: My Aunt Barb (for whom I was named) has breast cancer, which has spread to her lymph nodes and bones. I believe she's starting radiation next week, but things are still up in the air a bit while they complete more tests.

I talked to my mom on the phone earlier this afternoon; she was very short of breath and her nurse said she's been rather confused today. The doctor hadn't been by yet when I called. I'm going to go see her in a little while, so hopefully I can find out what's going on then.

Ho ho ho.

trip to the hospital

2006-12-17T13:51:00.000-06:00

My mom is in the hospital for an emphysema flare-up. She called me yesterday and told me she was starting to have trouble breathing, and she thought maybe I should take her to the hospital. When I got to her place, though, she was having so much touble, even hooked up to her oxygen, that I called 911 despite the fact that Abbott Northwestern was only three blocks away. To make a long story short, she's in the Respiratory Care unit at Abbott, I don't know for how long because she hasn't seen the doctor yet today. At least she's as cheerful and optimistic as ever; she always has such a positive attitude (I take after my dad, the family pessimist).

I just feel numb, sick and depressed. Every time this happens, I realize that I could lose her at any time, and I don't know what I'll do without her. I love her so much. She's my rock. Please, if anyone's reading this, please keep her in your prayers.

stewardship prayer

2006-12-11T18:51:00.000-06:00

I found this terrific prayer on the Basilica of St. Mary's website. It's an especially nice one to remember this Christmas season:

Stewardship Prayer

Christ has no body now but ours, no hands but ours Here on this earth ours is the work, to serve with the joy of compassion

Christ has no hands but ours to heal the wounded world, no hands but ours to soothe all its suffering, no touch but ours to bind the broken hope of the people of God

No eyes but ours to see as Christ would see, to find the lost, to gaze with compassion; No eyes but ours to glimpse the Holy Joy of the city of God

No feet but ours to journey with the poor, to walk this world with mercy and justice Ours are the steps to build a lasting peace for the children of God

Saint Teresa of Avila (1515-1582)

discernment

2006-11-04T15:39:00.000-06:00

So here's my prayer for the day:

Lord, teach me to be generous,
Teach me to serve you as you deserve,
to give and not count the cost,
to fight and not heed the wounds,
to toil and not seek for rest,
to labor and not ask for reward,
save that of knowing that I do your will.
--St. Ignatius of Loyola (founder of the Jesuit order), The Spiritual Exercises

When someone is given a great deal, a great deal will be demanded of that person;
when someone is entrusted with a great deal, of that person even more will be expected.
(Luke 12:48)

Or to paraphrase, what Fr. Neenan (good Jesuit that he is) said to begin my Boston College orientation: "To whom much has been given, much is expected." (The Jesuit mantra, at least the B.C. Jesuits!)

This has been on my mind a lot lately. I've believed this for years. But belief is one thing, putting that belief into practice is another. Please pray for me as I struggle with the question of how. How do I use my gifts (for I know that I have been very, very blessed) in a responsible way, in spite of my physical, etc. limitations? How do I discern what God's call is for me today?

"The greatest glory of God is the human person fully alive."
--St Ignatius of Lyons (or Antioch? I don't remember!)

here he goes again

2006-11-01T17:23:00.000-06:00

Another from Wonkette, under the heading: GOP SECRET WEAPON STRIKES AGAIN

Imagine you’re a Top Democrat Strategist looking at this week’s numbers: 13 House races are leaning Dem, along with a half-dozen Senate seats. Republicans are imploding from a seemingly endless supply of lurid scandals, the ceaseless horror of Iraq and a whole lot of depressing intangibles like the housing crash. Not only are the independents and libertarians and swing voters going Dem, but a million or two hardcore Bushbots are likely to stay home because they’re so depressed. What would you do with John Kerry?

Lock him in a cage and throw away the fucking key.

Instead, Kerry is doing useless things like attending rallies in California for Phil Angelides, who doesn’t have a chance in hell of kicking Arnold Schwarzenegger out of the governor’s mansion. Worse, Kerry is saying things into microphones. Things like this: “You know, education, if you make the most of it, you study hard, you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. If you don’t, you get stuck in Iraq.”

The conservative faithful is roused. Tony Snow has a whole script prepared for today’s spoon-fed question about how John Kerry thinks the troops are morons, talk radio and blogs show the only enthusiasm they’ve managed in a month …. It’s like the White House is paying Kerry to be out in public screwing things up.

Wait a minute!

Kerry and G.O.P. Spar Over Iraq Remarks [New York Times]

Congressional Countdown [Washington Post]

And Kerry wants to run for president again in '08!! Apparently he enjoyed blowing it in '04 so much he wants to do it again this year. How nice of him to spread his joy to '06.

I have already decided that the many curse words which fell from my mouth when I first heard this story are NOT a sin, under the circumstances, so I don't need to confess them.

the truth is stranger than fiction

2006-11-01T17:17:00.000-06:00

A Halloween Story

Remember the lawyer up in Maine who busted out the George W. Bush drunk-driving arrest records right before the 2000 election? Well, he was arrested today for standing on the side of the highway dressed in a rubber Bin Laden mask, waving a plastic gun and a sign promoting a Taxpayer Bill of Rights on next week’s ballot. UPDATE: You know, because if Osama is campaigning for something on your local ballot, chances are it’s not that great for Americans.

Thomas J. Connolly is a bigwig defense attorney in Maine and ran as he Democrat candidate for governor eight years ago. He apparently likes to dress up in costumes and pull weird stunts along the interstate.

Connolly’s wife says he’s “marvelously eccentric.” And now he’s got a misdemeanor charge for whatever the hell law you break in such situations.

Police arrest man dressed as Bin Laden [Portland Press]

(From yesterday's Wonkette)

the soul of the senate

2006-10-25T11:45:00.001-05:00

Politics is not about money or power games, or winning for the sake of winning. Politics is about the improvement of people's lives, lessening human suffering, advancing the cause of peace and justice in our country and in the world.
--Paul Wellstone

On the morning of October 25, 2002, a small plane went down in the sleet and bitter cold of northern Minnesota, crashing into the swampy, densely forested earth only a few miles from the Eveleth Airport. There were no survivors. Among the dead were U.S. Senator Paul Wellstone and his wife Sheila.

I don't represent the big oil companies, I don't represent the big pharmaceutical companies, I don't represent the Enrons of the world, but you know what, they already have great representation in Washington. It's the rest of the people that need it. I represent the people of Minnesota.
--Paul Wellstone

I loved him. And four years later, I miss him more than ever. I miss his kindness, his compassion, his exuberance, his courage, his passion for the most vulnerable of our society, his idealism.

The year he died, Paul Wellstone introduced the Mental Health Equity Act, which would force insurance companies to give equal coverage for both physical AND mental health problems. My first day with the 2002 campaign, I told Paul my own story, about how my parents spent their entire retirement savings on my treatment for depression and post traumatic stress. He held my hand in his and listened, told me how sorry he was for what my parents and I had been through. I've had a lot of experience in politics, and I've told a lot of people my story, and I can vouch for the fact that Paul Wellstone genuinely cared. It wasn't just for show, it wasn't just an act he put on to win political support, his empathy for the suffering and the underdog was the driving force of his life.

There is a huge leadership void in the country...Self-interest is more than economic self-interest; it is also how you feel about yourself. Are you living a life consistent with the words you speak, are you helping others, are you helping your community or your country or your world? A winning politics is a politics of values that appeals to the best in people, that enables citizens to dream again to make a better America.
--Paul Wellstone

Shortly before he died, Paul Wellstone was one of only a few senators to vote against the Iraq war. Most of the pundits predicted his vote would cost him the election. But just a few days before the crash, Wellstone pulled ahead of challenger Norm Coleman in the polls for the first time that fall.

Paul Wellstone was the soul of the Senate. He was one of the most noble and courageous men I have ever known. He was a gallant and passionate fighter, especially for the less fortunate. I am grateful to have known Paul and Sheila as dear and close friends. Their deaths are a shattering loss to Minnesota, to the nation, and to all who knew and loved them.
--U.S. Senator Tom Daschle, October 25, 2002.

Running though my mind as I write this is a Jewish proverb: We pay best homage to our dead by living our lives fully even in the shadow of our loss. In my dresser drawer is a pin the campaign distributed after the crash which reads, simply: "Stand Up/Keep Fighting."

The future will not belong to those who are cynical or those who stand on the sidelines. The future will belong to those who have passion and are willing to work hard to make our country better.
--Paul Wellstone

(Quotations from Twelve Years and Thirteen Days: Remembering Paul and Sheila Wellstone, by Terry Gydesen.)

the meaning of success

2006-10-14T14:16:00.000-05:00

To laugh often and much; to win the respect of intelligent people and the affection of children; to earn the appreciation of honest critics and endure the betrayal of false friends; to appreciate beauty, to find the best in others; to leave the world a little better; whether by a healthy child, a garden patch or a redeemed social condition; to know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is the meaning of success.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson

favorite fall things

2006-10-14T12:48:00.000-05:00

Honeycrisp apples--tart, crunchy, and sweet
apple crisp, apple pie, caramel apples, hot mulled apple cider
my niece's first day of school excitement
the Renaissance Festival
my birthday!
Oktoberfest
walks along the Mississippi River with leaves crunching underfoot
sweater weather returns
watching the Twins in the playoffs/world series (well, maybe not this year)
our wedding anniversary!
fall colors, especially the brilliant scarlet, crimson and orange leaves on our maple tree against the intense blue of an October sky
Indian Summer
the end of ragweed season!
watching Fiona frolic in the leaves while George rakes the lawn
singing the Litany of Saints at All Souls' vespers
election day, BECAUSE DEMOCRACY IS NOT A SPECTATOR SPORT!!!!!
hanging out with family after Thanksgiving dinner--and my Aunt Jo's sweet potato hot dish

vacation, all i ever wanted

2006-10-12T17:42:00.000-05:00

Vacation all I ever wanted
Vacation have to get away

That's all I can remember from the song by the Go-Go's (I think it was a hit long ago, like in the '80s.) That didn't stop me from humming it constantly last month though, when George and I went up to Duluth/the North Shore for a couple of days last month. We ate, drank, saw family and friends (George is from the Iron Range, graduated from UMD, and worked for now-defunct KDLH for several years after college. And his sister Fran and her family live there.), ate, drank, ate some more, etc.

We stayed at The Lake Breeze Resort, which is located a few miles north of Duluth on Hwy 61. Our cabin was adorable, and reminded me of vacations up north with my mom and dad when I was little. Very cute, very kitschy:

It was PERFECT, very romantic in a fun, silly way! (I copied these pics from their website; that's why they are all different sizes.)

These were all taken at Brighton Beach, right down the road for our "resort."
Here's the Lake our first day there:

And the day we left:
George took this one of me:
And this is our self-portrait (a better picture of him than me, as usual--it's not fair!) :
And best of all, little Fiona welcoming us home:

Actually, this vacation was better than last year, even though we stayed longer then (and at an incredible B&B). Last year my depression was bad enough that I was weepy and preoccupied; this year I had fun.

three years and one day

2006-10-12T17:17:00.000-05:00

I think the nasty weather we've been having yesterday and today is my fault. It's God telling me to quit complaining about rain on my wedding day three years ago (yesterday). I have to admit, I'm actually nostalgic for the rain; at least it was warm! And of course, it was a lovely day all the way around despite the rain--I was going through our wedding pics the other day, and re-lived the whole incredible day. (We were hoping to buy a printer/scanner with the anniversary money from my mom but, of course, we couldn't find one for $50. We'll probably bite the bullet and get the $80 one--I mean, who needs groceries?!--and if/when we do, I'll post some of our pictures.)

Because of the weather, we didn't do very much; we just went to Grandma's for a yummy and warming dinner. After George went to bed I sat up and cried for a long time. If someone had asked me on our wedding day if we'd be childless three years into our marriage, I would have said NO WAY. I would have been wrong, obviously. However, I'd marry him all over again in a flash. I still can't believe I found a thoughful, caring, talented and funny guy like George to share my life with, I really can't. Snuggling together in bed yesterday morning with our coffee, the newspaper, and Fiona, I felt a wave of pure contentment wash over me, and gave thanks. (There are many moments like that. I just always seem to forget to write about them!!!)

And I've come to realize something about love: Love doesn't come to us because we deserve it, because I've never done anything to deserve the kind of love I have with George. Love comes to us just because we are, not because of what we do. It's pure grace.

things i am brooding about today

2006-09-22T17:43:00.000-05:00

1. How much I've missed in the lives of all of my bloggy friends since I was last online.

2. The amazing number of wrinkles around my eyes that have appeared since I turned 38 on Wednesday.

3. Why on earth the class of 1986 reunion committee thinks I would be willing to shell out $55/person to attend my 20th reunion next month--at Rock Bottom Brewery?! $110 for the evening (assuming I brought my husband, which of course I would) to go to a boring restaurant with mediocre food?

4. How there is is no way in hell I will be attending said reunion.

5. That it's sort of a relief not to go since I don't have any children or accomplishments to brag about anyway.

6. How much I wish that, having now reached almost forty years of age, that I desperately wish I had either children or accomplishments, preferably both (but especially children, or a child).

7. That at least I have a very sweet husband.

8. And Fiona.

9. That the atrocious weather we've been having for the last two weeks is really, really making my fibromyalgia flare up.

10. And my arthritis/migraines/chronic fatigue/allergies/asthma.

11. That last week I had flashbacks, and nightmares complete with soaking night sweats, almost every night. And again last night. Flashbacks+nightmares=increased depression.

12. That I am glad news gave George the evening off after all, although we could use the overtime pay (but then he's got 15 hours of overtime for this pay period already).

13. How incredibly grateful I am that --HALLELUJAH!!!!!--my mother-in-law is moving back up north nexth month.

14. How sad it is that my cousin Dave died of esophogeal cancer this morning. And that life is too short to brood so much.

Eternal rest grant unto him, Oh Lord, and may perpetual light shine upon him. May his soul, and the souls of all the faithful departed, rest in peace.
Amen.

it's a boy!!!!!!!

2006-08-25T21:32:00.001-05:00

CONGRATULATIONS to my friends Emilie and Steve, who finally had their baby this afternoon!!!!!!!! (I found out tonight because George just went out for a beer with Steve's brother Bruce, who is also a good friend of ours and was best man at our wedding. It helps to have friends in high places.) The anxiously awaited baby, who goes by the name of Daniel Joseph, clocked in at 8 lbs., 7 oz., according to my sources. Mom and baby are both doing fine.

CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hey , BLOGGER, WTF????

2006-08-18T20:31:00.000-05:00

Grrr...Emilie left this comment several days ago, which YOU, BLOGGER, did not post!!! (I got it in my email.) Ah well, here are her very thoughtful thoughts (!!) regarding my last post:

Oooh, Barb, I have been following that "My Faith" series in the Washington Post for a number of weeks â€” I love it! I wish more newspapers would jump on that idea ...

Anyway, the book you're reading sounds really interesting. I love the quote from James Joyce, too: "Catholicism means here comes everybody." I think, in a fundamental sense, that is so true. (Sadly, many people have quite a different impression, and sadly, that is due to the behavior of many within the church itself.)

I often play with the question of why I am Catholic, especially considering that I pretty much left the church for most of my 20s. So much of is that it's in my blood, just as being an American is something I can't really walk away from. Remembering that the hierarchy does not own the church â€” that it's an evolving collection of the imperfect collection of humanity to which we all belong â€” helps me stay sane, too. I think it's amazing that after all these centuries, with members who range from radically liberal to ultra-traditional, we all manage to find common ground as part of one big church. An umbrella. A big tent where there is (or should be) room for everyone.

And your point about the church being a means to an end rather than an end in itself, is key: I see the church as a way, a structure as it were, to help me connect with a greater divinity, who probably does not care much about the little wrangles that get us so wrapped up here on earth.

I ramble. I look forward to reading more of your thoughts!

why I'm still Catholic

2006-08-11T23:19:00.000-05:00

I'm stealing this from one of my favorite blogs, Whispers in the Loggia, which in turn found this in the Wash Post:

I was born Catholic. Six years before I entered the world, my parents, in a traditional Catholic marriage ceremony, vowed to raise any children they might have in the Church. In a baptism ceremony shortly after my birth, my parents christened me "Mary Theresa" and began the process of making good on their promise.

Nearly 30 years after my parents married, I stood under a garden arch in front of a Unitarian, folk-singing minister and exchanged vows with my husband. Despite my parents' adherence to their promise, I had fallen away from the Church. I questioned some of the basic tenets of the Catholic faith, and I was strongly at odds with the Church's position on homosexuality, the role of women in the Church and a handful of other social issues. My Catholic baptism and confirmation would have allowed me to marry in a Catholic church. But my misgivings prevented it. On my wedding day, I only wanted to confess to beliefs I was certain of and to make promises I intended to keep.

So I didn't make any promises about future children and the beliefs I would instill in them.
But the truth is, despite my issues with the Church, I most likely will raise my children Catholic. I may not believe everything the Church believes and may even actively oppose some of its positions. But as time has passed, I've come to see that, for me, Catholic isn't so much my faith but my culture. It's who I am.

It's 13 years of Catholic schooling. It's praying the rosary while crouched down in the hallway, hands over head, tornado sirens blaring. It's the Ursuline Sisters, with their quick laughs, steady guidance and humble intelligence, who acted as teachers, mentors and friends. It's ashes on my forehead on the first day of Lent, midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, Stations of the Cross, summer church picnics, "The Lives of the Saints," fish on Fridays and "Ave Maria." It's so many pieces of me that I would not be who I am if I took any of them away.

My Catholicism is for me, in many ways, like home -- not always what I want it to be, yet often exactly what it needs to be. It is where I come from and where I belong. For my children to know me, they must know the Catholic Church.

Oh, yeah. Once a Catholic, always a Catholic. A few years ago I was at a gathering where several women, upon discovering they attended the same non-denomination church, started laughing about being "recovering Catholics." Being the tactful person that I am, I refrained from pointing out that just as the phrase "recovering alcoholic" means that one is always an alcoholic in some way, so their jokes about "recovering Catholics" meant that they couldn't leave the Church behind, no matter how hard they were trying.

One of the things that helps me is remembering that the Church belongs to ALL of us--not just the hierarchy (however much some of them pretend the Church is theirs, and the rest of us are only part of it by their gracious tolerance). I just bought a terrific book (at half-price!) by a theology prof at my alma mater, (Boston College), Thomas Groome, called "What Makes us Catholic: Eight Gifts for Life." In it he writes that

Catholic Christianity ought to share its spiritual wisdom at the great table of humankind, as well as welcome all who choose it as their particular home within God's family. though catholic usually is taken to mean "universal," this was more Aristotle's use of the term than how early Christians understood it. Ignatius of Antioch, the first on record to call the Church catholic (circa 107) had inclusion in mind more than universal. Inclusion, in fact, is closer to the roots of catholic; katha holos literally means "gathering in the whole," or, more colloquially, "all are welcome."

In other words, as James Joyce once wrote: "Catholicism means here comes everybody." It does seem to me that perhaps, if all of us Catholics kept this in mind, we'd have fewer petty disputes amongst ourselves about "who is authentically Catholic" (of which I myself am as guilty as anyone, especially regarding some of the--in my opinion--rigid, ultra-traditionalist seminarians and priests I knew in grad school). It's a pretty big Church, after all, as I discovered anew watching pilgrims from the world over at John Paul II's funeral; surely, there is room for all of us!

One further thought: I think we get into the most trouble when we forget that the Church is a means to an end rather than an end in itself. More on this, and other things Catholic, in the coming days.

one day too many

2006-08-08T15:36:00.000-05:00

Here's a poem about the ups and downs of living with fibromyalgia:

One Day
Too Many
By Jane Bauhs

I am
one day
a blessing
then one day
I am a drain

Two days
a joy to know me
then two days with me
a strain

Three days
you'll see me happy,
then three days i'll
be in pain

Four days
of peaceful being,
bring four more of
useless blame

Five days
with me are blissful,
or filled with guilt
and shame

Six days
you'll see me active,
while six days could
make me lame

Seven days
you'll find me restful,
filled with a hope and
faithfilled fame

Eight days
you'll think you know me,
but its all been just
a game

Nine days
of me and then
you'll see we all
are just the same

surprised by grace

2006-08-03T20:35:00.000-05:00

It's amazing how often grace slips between the cracks and slides into my life when I least expect it. The other night I wrote a very bitter, angry post about my chronic pain/health issues and all of the ugly feelings I've been wrestling with lately--the loneliness, isolation, feeling completely useless and unimportant. A few hours later, I went back and deleted my post, thinking my emotions were just too ugly and intense to share. The next morning while reading my email, I discovered that someone had read and answered my post in the three hours it was up:

From one redhead to another: Been there. Before I took myself back to school at the ripe old age of-well, let's not go there, shall we?-I was stuck with no job, no car, and very much alone. If I had died it would have been weeks before anyone knew about it. You will make it. Read Isaiah 41-I don't have a Bible handy at the moment-where He says, "I will help you." Hold onto that.
I loved your 21st Century Zen. It was the only belly roll laugh I had all day! Thank you. I needed it. Good luck on getting discovered. I enjoyed reading you.

--
Posted by The Wanderer to redhead-report at 7/31/2006 08:56:

This is the text from Isaiah, one that I have read many times but, for some reason have not remembered these past months:

But you, Israel, my servant,
Jacob, whom I have chosen,
descendant of Abrham my friend,
whom I have taken to myself,
from the remotest parts of the earth
and summoned from countries far away,
to whom I have said, 'You are my servant,
I have chosen you, I have not rejected you,'
do not be afraid, for I am with you;
do not be alarmed, for I am your God.
I give you strength, truly I help you,
truly I hold you firm,
with my saving right hand.

Do not be afraid, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by your name
you are mine.
Should you pass through the waters,
I shall be with you;
or through rivers,
they will not swallow you up.
Should you walk through fire,
you will not suffer,
and the flame will not burn you.
For I am Yahweh, your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour.
(Isaiah 41:8-10;43:1-3)

Somehow, despite the physical pain, I realize now that I'm not alone. That, indeed, I never was. All I had to do was ask, and God was there. When I least expected anyone to hear me, I was answered by grace.

my computer is back!!!!

2006-07-24T20:36:00.000-05:00

Yay!!! My computer is back, after a major and horrendous CRASH which took some time to fix. Well, actually I've had it back for over a week, but I've been too wiped out to post anything. I am STILL wearing the neck brace (my boa constrictor) when I have to stand or sit upright for any length of time. I don't need to wear it as much, though. The pain is better than it was, although the knots in my neck and upper back are worse than ever, and are spending a lot of time raising hell. I'm finally off the vicodin and instead am taking a heavy duty muscle relaxer called soma, which certainly somatizes me (if that's not a word, it is now!) but doesn't seem to be unwinding my knots much.

The good news--yes, there is some--is that I'm now seeing a totally kick-ass physical therapist to deal with my chronic upper back and neck pain. I love her, I do, I want her to come and live with us. She's the first PT I've ever seen who actually GETS how much pain I'm in all of the time, and she's helped me understand the roots of the pain. Basically, the rod I have in my back from my scoliosis surgery, the scar tissue ditto, and the fact that I still have a significant degree of both scoliosis and kyphosis, all combine to make it impossible for my muscles to lengthen and stretch normally and force them into contorted positions, etc. Ow.

The other bad news--of course there's more--is that my asthma has been really nasty the last week or so. Apparently ragweed season is here, because my hayfever has kicked in full force, triggering my asthma. Fun. It's been bad enough that it's hard for me to move around, every time I do, I get short of breath and start gasping. Poor Fiona is getting TOTALLY freaked out, and is requiring much cuddling for reassurance.

If anyone has any prayers to spare, I could use some, I think. Also, I am very lonely, so phone calls are also welcome; I am always hesitant to call people I know who have things going on, (ie. everyone) because I know I'll call at the wrong time (a special gift of mine...) (Was that rude? I hope not, I've said that before, so I hope no one is offended.)

happy birthday dad!!

2006-06-28T17:46:00.001-05:00

My dad's 87th birthday was Monday. Wow. I can't even begin to imagine him at 87; to me, I guess, he'll always be 73 at the most, which is not a bad thing: he never grew feeble in mind or body, and I never had to watch him suffer though a terminal illness. In fact, this week I've been remembering that I have so many things to be grateful for, that I am so blessed in the love and caring of my family and friends, and have been all my life.

On Monday, thinking about my dad, I realized that the flip side of the terrible agony of grief and loss is the comfort of memories; so often I feel my dad's presence and know that he's with me, and when I go over the times we shared together I feel immense gratitude that I was blessed with such a terrific dad (thanks, God!). The first few years after he died, the anniversary of his death (Jan. 12) was always such a painful day. In many ways, it felt as though the wound was reopened all over again, every year. But gradually, without my realizing it was happening, celebrating his birthday has come to seem the more natural thing to do, which, I guess, is how it should be: those we love are gifts from God, and should be celebrated and enjoyed as such!

June has always been my dad's month, in my mind. I think it's because both Father's Day and his birthday come so close together. On gorgeous summer days like this, when the sky is blue, the air is warm, and the birds sing, and the scent of roses and mown grass is in the air, I remember my father, and I am happy.

There's a lovely old WWII-era song that has come to remind me of my dad:

I'll be seeing you
in all the old familiar places
that this heart of mine embraces
all day through.
In that small cafe
the park across the way
the children's carousel
the chestnut trees
the wishing well.

I'll be seeing you
in every lovely summer's day
in everything that's bright and gay
I'll always think of you that way...

So many memories to take out and cherish, one by one: pink dresses..."walking on ice"...sitting on his lap drinking grape juice out of my bottle (my earliest memory of all)...getting my tricycle...long walks through the neighborhood, me pushing my pink plastic doll buggy, stopping at the corner store for orange dreamsicles..the Shrine Circus (an annual father-daughter trip)...fishing...trips with mom and dad and Bridget (our dog) up to Blue Lake Resort...the State Fair (also an annual father-daughter trip)..."our" flower garden...the smell of fresh varnish and paint (yes, strangely, I like them)...Gunsmoke (especially Festus!)... sawdust, the smell of freshly mown grass...my rolltop desk (gorgeous, solid oak, he made it for me when I was a teenager)...my dollhouse...putting up the Christmas tree together...going downtown to see the Christmas lights and decorations on the Nicollet Mall (yet another annual father-daughter tradition)...going to Midnight Mass and sitting between mom and dad...Sunday matinees...Laurel and Hardy on Sunday mornings (we went to mass on Saturday night, I still think it was so we could watch Laurel and Hardy on WCCO in the morning even though my parents would never admit it)...zucchini cornbread the summer of the Great Zucchini Takeover of the garden (shudder)...Memorial Day 1992...Baccalaureate mass and party at Boston College, 1991...and most of all, of course, the Minnesota Twins, so many games every year without fail, especially the 1987 season (Magic! as the Strib so aptly proclaimed)...our last conversation, when we laughed and joked for 15 minutes straight, (long-distance even!)....

Yeah, I've been blessed. Unbelievably, astonishingly blessed.

excerpt, rush city post

2006-06-28T17:08:00.000-05:00

Here's an excerpt from the Rush City Post, dated Friday, June 15, 1945:

Technician Fifth Grade Leonard H. Resch, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Resch, Harris, Minnesota, liason airplane mechanic with the First Army, captured two fleeing German soldiers yesterday from the rear cockpit of an artillery cub plane.
On a a jaunt combining business and pleasure, T5 Resch spotted the enemy soldiers as they were sneaking through a clump of woods. The pilot of his plane, Lt. Robert H. Williams of San Antonio, Texas, immediately put his ship in a dive towards the running Germans as T5 Resch opened up with his carbine in a manner which would do credit to a P-38.
The enemy, upon being strafed in such an erratic manner, immediately waved a white handkerchief. Resch then landed and took his two customers in tow.

NB: My dad was actually promoted to T3 before his discharge in Sept. 1945. Also, Pilot Robert Williams, more commonly known as "Crazy Roberts," liked to fly his Piper Cub under the Eiffel Tower, at least until his superiors, who for some reason frowned upon this practice, made it clear that he had to "cease and desist." Dad would never admit to being with him--but he wouldn't deny it, either.

ice cream friday five, a day late

2006-06-24T21:01:00.000-05:00

1. Ice cream: for warm weather only or a year-round food?
year-round, definitely; there are some things only a pint of Ben & Jerry's can fix.

2. Favorite flavor(s)
chocolate chip cookie dough; butter pecan, Hagen Daz dulche de leche, anything super chocolatey, espeically with nuts or toffee pieces, or fudge...(preferably Ben & Jerry's)

3. Cake cone, sugar cone, waffle cone, cup?
waffle cone

4. Childhood ice-cream memory
My mom would take my friends and me to Dairy Queen on hot summer days after trips to the lake (i.e. Lake Harriet in Minneapolis), the big highlight of the day was licking the "Q" off the top of the ice cream :)
My dad took me to Baskin-Robbins the morning after I got my braces on to cheer me up and naturally, I ordered my favorite, rocky road: not a wise move!!! My mouth was so sore I couldn't bite on the nuts and had to spit them out. It was pathetic.

5. Banana splits: discuss.
I have never quite understood the banana + ice cream thing; I mean, the logic just escapes me. Oceans of hot fudge, strawberry topping, butterscotch, whipped cream, nuts, oh glory be, yes, but bananas? No, I'll eat my bananas with my cereal at breakfast. It seems like desecration to spoil a lovely gooey ice cream treat with a banana.

Thanks, as usual, to the gals at RevGalsBlogPals for this summery Friday five!

oh, the agony of it all...

2006-06-11T17:57:00.000-05:00

I am in pain. Serious, awful pain. I got Botox shots in my neck and upper back a week ago last Thursday for something my neurologist calls "cervical dystonia" (sp?) which means, bascially, that the muscles in that area are permanently contracted and nothing will relax them. Which is true; I mean, I've seen I don't know how many physical therapists, gotten "trigger point injections" with lidocaine and cortisone, tried massage--nothing has helped. The muscles are excruciatingly tight and ropy, full of knots that make crunching sounds and feel like big pieces ofmoving gravel under my skin when you try to rub them. They are not only painful in themselves but cause lovely chronic migraines, too. This has been going on for several years, and is probably due to a combination of scoliosis and kyphosis and back surgeries; of course, fibromyalgia doesn't help either. Hence the Botox.
I am starting to wonder, though, if the cure isn't worse than the disease. I haven't been in this much pain since my back surgery, and I've dealt with A LOT of pain over the years. I have this strange feeling, as though I can't hold my head up, and I have to either wear a cervical collar (so I look like I have whiplash) or literally hold my head up with my hands whenever I get out of bed, which isn't very often. Moving around HURTS. It REALLY HURTS. My whole upper and middle back is one big mass of PAIN. I have been crying a lot from the pain, which I haven't done for years.

According to my doctor's partner, who I spoke to on Friday, this is not uncommon and will go away in the next week or so. The pain is because the super-tight muscles have been doing all the work of holding up my head and neck, so now the surrounding muscles are being overworked as they try to adjust to doing the work previously done by the now-Botoxed muscles. You wouldn't think something as simple as that could be so bloody painful. We'll see. I'm going back to bed with a couple of (medicinal) Hostess chocolate cupcakes and Anne Lamott's Traveling Mercies.

21st Century Zen

2006-06-11T17:39:00.000-05:00

Here is a nifty list I stole from a blog I recently discovered, Sacred Ordinary, that I simply HAD to use because it fits my mood (crabbier than hell, that is) today perfectly. It also happens to contain some very useful advice.

21st Century Zen

1. Do not walk behind me, for I may not lead. Do not walk ahead of me,for I may not follow. Do not walk beside me either, just pretty much leave me the hell alone.

2. The journey of a thousand miles begins with a broken car and no cell phone.

3. It's always darkest before dawn. So if you're going to steal your neighbor's newspaper, that's the time to do it.

4. Don't be irreplaceable. If you can't be replaced, you can't be promoted.

5. Always remember that you're unique. Just like everyone else.

6. Never test the depth of the water with both feet.

7.. If you think nobody cares if you're alive, try missing a couple of car payments.

8. Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes.That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.

9. If at first you don't succeed, skydiving is not for you.

10. Give a man a fish and he will eat for a day. Teach him how to fish, and he will sit in a boat and drink beer all day.

11. If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably worth it.

12. If you tell the truth, you don't have to remember anything.

13. Some days you're the bug and some days you're the windshield.

14. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

15. The quickest way to double your money is to fold it in half and put it back in your pocket.

16. A closed mouth gathers no foot.

17. Duct tape is like 'The Force.' It has a light side and a dark side,and it holds the universe together.

18. There are two theories to arguing with women. Neither one works.

19. Generally speaking, you aren't learning much when your lips are moving.

20. Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

21. Never miss a good chance to shut up.

22. Never, under any circumstances, take a sleeping pill and a laxative on the same night.

fiona watches tv

2006-06-07T18:35:00.000-05:00

Fiona has a new favorite TV show: Dog, the Bounty Hunter (on a&e tonight). She likes to watch and imagine herself as Dog, the Bounty Huntress.

This is Dog:

This is Fiona:
As you can see, the resemblance is obvious.

And here is Dog and his wife Beth on their wedding day:

Actually, Beth works with Dog, so I guess you could call HER a bounty huntress. I don't think Fiona likes her very much, though; she gets sort of scared whenever Beth is on.