WG spa night

we celebrated Nora's birthday last night with a foot spa, facial masks, and wax all over our hands :)

first habit

began this habit today ...

The first habit is the morning offering, when you kneel down and using your own words, or a formula, you briefly offer up all the day ahead for God's glory. What is not so simple is what has to happen before the offering. As the founder of Opus Dei put it "Conquer yourself each day from the very first moment, getting up on the dot, at a set time, without granting a single minute to laziness. If with the help of God, you conquer yourself in the moment, you have accomplished a great deal for the rest of the day. It's so discouraging to find yourself beaten in the first skirmish (The Way, 191). In my pastoral experience, those who can live the "heroic moment" in the morning and in the evening going to bed on time will have both the physical and spiritual energy throughout the day to stop what they are doing in order to live the other habits. - from The Seven Daily Habits of Holy Apostolic People by Fr. John McCloskey

My new year's resolution was to stop using the snooze alarm. I have been semi-successful but have been reminded several times, in different places, to follow through with it. Yesterday at Mass Fr. Brad was talking about Simon, Andrew, James and John - about the way that they dropped their fishing nets immediately to follow Jesus. Do we follow like that when Jesus calls us? The first call of the day is the alarm clock ;) to get up and do what we need to do for the day.

how old are you?

Check out this time duration calculator. I am 9618 days old. Or:

• 830,995,200 seconds
• 13,849,920 minutes
• 230,832 hours
• 1374 weeks

How old are you?

ankle, soccer, etc.

... because I know you are all so intensely interested in my ankle and in Sunday night soccer ... at least I know my mom is ...

... I had a revelation a couple weeks ago when I realized my ankle was still hurting because I wear high heels all the time! Duh! I mean, I'm not talking stilettos or anything dumb like that, but still pretty dumb ... I am about 5'2" and have been wearing "tall shoes" since sometime in college when I discovered how cute they were and that I could reach top shelves a bit more easily with them. But you know, they're not really good for my feet ... and they're really not good for my ankle ... I had to do some Goodwill/Meijer shopping to get some flats and some shorter slacks to go with my flats, but my ankle thanks me! Hasn't really ached in days. Haven't decided yet whether flats are going to be a permanent lifestyle change or just until my ankle is all healed up.

... Played soccer last night and had a good time! Hooray! It helped that we had only 11 people total instead of 11 on each side. So I wasn't so in fear of getting run over or hit by the ball. I played absolutely terribly - praise God for teammates who didn't get mad at me for the sixty times I kicked at the air while the ball rolled slowly by. I was super-exhausted by the end of the night (actually by the beginning of the night) but I had fun.

... and, totally random comment. My previous post (from Saturday night) was a video with one of my current favorite songs on it. I didn't pay any attention to the video but it turns out that it's of an orphanage in Haiti ... this was brought to my attention by Carrie who is adopting a baby from Haiti with her husband Matt. Pray for Matt & Carrie's adoption to work out quickly, and for the health and safety of their daughter Lauren as she waits to come home to them!

when the saints

This is one of my favorite songs right now - "When the Saints" by Sara Groves. Video isn't anyone I know ... would love to see one with pics of PoP missionaries. Listening to this song, I get kind of revved up - how can I work for the Lord, what part of the world can I take for Christ? It gives me a renewed sense of vocation - even though I'm not a missionary - Lord, give me that fire in everything I do!

Here's the lyrics:

Lord I have a heavy burden of all I've seen and know
It's more than I can handle
But your word is burning like a fire shut up in my bones
and I cannot let it go

And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

Lord it's all that I can't carry and cannot leave behind
it often overwhelms me
but when I think of all who've gone before and lived the faithful life
their courage compells me
And when I'm weary and overwrought
with so many battles left unfought

I think of Paul and Silas in the prison yard
I hear their song of freedom rising to the stars

I see the shepherd Moses in the Pharohs court
I hear his call for freedom for the people of the Lord

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them

I see the long quiet walk along the Underground Railroad
I see the slave awakening to the value of her soul

I see the young missionary and the angry spear
I see his family returning with no trace of fear

I see the long hard shadows of Calcutta nights
I see the sisters standing by the dying man's side

I see the young girl huddled on the brothel floor
I see the man with a passion come and kicking down the door

I see the man of sorrows and his long troubled road
I see the world on his shoulders and my easy load

And when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
and when the Saints go marching in
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them
I want to be one of them

in lieu of my own blog ...

I feel like posting something new for all my faithful readers ;) but haven't had anything bloggable rattling around in my mind lately. So instead I am going to direct you to Uncle Jim (not actually my uncle. But his name actually is Jim.) who has one of the coolest blogs around. Jim posts almost every day and kept me very entertained over the holidays by posting about each of the 12 days of Christmas. Also, his "reflections on being a Christian man" series was beautiful and challenging and not just for men ;) So anyway, on all those days when I fail to post anything, go look at Jim's blog.

from ND magazine

Wanted to share this story with you ... it reminds me a lot of the way I feel sometimes at work when I have "so much to do" but I keep getting "interrupted" by little things.

In the Silence of that Hallway by Ed Stubbing '64

"E-d-d-d-d?"

Ignore it, Ed. It's a dream. Just a dream.

"E-d-d-d-d?"

Uh-oh. Maybe not a dream. Maybe it's . . . Lu.

"E-d-d-d-d! E-d-d-d-d!"

My mother-in-law, Lu, 89, is a 16-year veteran of the Alzheimer's Wars. Three years ago a stroke took its toll, and Lu needs a walker to move about. I press the Indiglo-light button on my Timex: 3:30 -- earliest ever. Time for an Action Plan. Sit up in bed. Shift legs. Place feet on rug. Stand. Stare into darkness.

"E-d-d-d-d!" Louder this time, loud enough to cause my wife, Lucille, to stir. Not good. Lucille is a nurse who works to the point of exhaustion and needs a good night's sleep. Must move quickly to silence the E-d-d-d-er. I tiptoe to the door that leads to the stairs that leads to the wake-up caller. I gazelle right on down those darkened stairs.

"Oh Ed, I'm so glad you're here."

I nod.

"What day is it?"

Placing my finger over my lips, I motion for Lu to follow me into the kitchen where our conversation would be less likely to wake my wife or son. The creak of her walker follows me from foyer to kitchen. I flick the light switch: "Today is Tuesday," I respond. I know what's coming. We've been there a thousand times before.

"Do we have to go to Mass today?"

"No, it's Tuesday, not Sunday."

"It's not a Holy Day, is it?"

"No. It's an unholy day."

She smiles. Her humor survives within the damaged memory bank. I look at her. Once 5-foot-2, she now registers 4-foot-10 on the shrinking height chart. But her eyes of blue are as blue and as beautiful as ever.

"Thank God it's not a Holy Day."

"Right. But it is 3:30."

"3:30?"

I nod. "You should go back to bed."

"Well, once I get up . . . I stay up." She crosses her arms and stares at sleepy Ed. There it is, the most dreaded of Lu's declarations, dramatic pauses and all. This is serious. Lu is fully awake, cross-armed and dangerous.

"Well, let's just think about it," I suggest.

"Why?" she queries. I consider a persuasive argument relating to the merits of sleep in the middle of the damn night, but logic has become a fading memory in Lu's mind.

"Tell you what. Go to the bathroom, change the pad, and then we'll check things out."

"Check what things out?"

Damn! She got me on that one. Sleep deprivation in action. What do I mean by that? Empathic listening is my last hope. "Tell you what. As a favor to me, go to the bathroom. Okay?"

She hesitates. We stare at each other. I am close to losing it. She smiles. "I just want to do the right thing, Ed. You know that, don't you?"

Oh, brother. I melt completely. "I know. I know you want to do the right thing." I turn and she follows me down the hallway. I flick on the bathroom light.

"Should I leave the walker in the hallway?"

"Yes."

"Can you get by?"

"I'll just jump over it."

She laughs. One of the pleasant little secrets of Alzheimer's is that the same joke works a thousand times. I laugh. Grand fun in the a.m. I open a pad and place it on the counter. I shut the door, amble to her bed and sit. I close my eyes. Peace at last.

"E-d-d-d-d?"

"Yeesss?"

"I went to the bathroom."

"Good. Now change the pad that's on the counter."

I wait.

"What do I do with the old pad?"

"Brown bag on the floor."

Lu flushes the toilet, comes out and shuffles into her bedroom. I make my pitch. "So it's 3:30, and you said you wanted to get right back to sleep."

"I did?"

I nod.

"What day is it?"

"Tuesday."

"It's not Sunday?'

"No. Tuesday."

"I was worried about Mass."

"You don't have to worry because it's . . ." I point both forefingers at Lu, a wacky expression on my face. She smiles. "Tuesday!"

"Yes!" A long pause as I await her next, critical move onto the bed.

"What do I do now?"

"You're exhausted, and you want to go back to sleep."

Lu sits on the bed. I pray to the unknown saint of sleep.

She lies down. Thank you, saint of sleep.

"What time is it, Ed?"

"3:30."

"Do we go to Mass today?"

"No, it's Tuesday."

"What should I do now?"

"Sleep. You are exhausted -- totally, completely, thoroughly exhausted. If there's one thing you want in life right now, it's the chance to go back to sleep."

"What time is it?"

"Three in the morning."

"Three! What am I, crazy?"

"Ummm."

"I'll go back to sleep."

"Exactly! Good night, Lu."

"Good night, sweetheart."

I leave, close the door quietly and tiptoe down the hallway.

"Ed?"

Tiptoe paralysis sets in. Motionless, breathless, sleepless, I turn at the end of my getaway hallway and face the closed, now feared, bedroom door.

"Yes?"

"God bless you."

I don't answer. In the silence of that hallway all thoughts of sleep and concerns about the tasks awaiting me that day flitter away. An Indiglo moment of the soul takes hold. I realize that nothing I would do this day, or for many days, would be as important as what I had just done.

"And God bless you, Lu."

"I couldn't be happier living here with you and Lucille."

I stare at the bedroom door and lie. "We couldn't be happier either."

"Are you going to be around today, Ed?"

"Yes."

"Thank God."

"Yes." I stare at the door. Seconds pass in the silence of the darkness.

I'm not one to sit down in a hallway at 3 a.m., but that's what I do. I sit, and ever so slowly my eyes well up with tears of joy.

---

Ed Stubbing, who lives in Stony Point, New York, writes articles and screenplays. He can be reached at luedstubbing@aol.com.