I hope you are doing well! It's Thanksgiving week; enjoy your time with family! I am excited because all of my children will be able to come over and not only that, but they are bringing tons of food. TONS. Russ and I only have to do turkey, potatoes and stuffing. Speaking of turkey, Russ spatchcocked the turkey  the last couple of years, and let me tell you, we are never going back to dry, dismal turkey. I found the biggest turkey I could, just so I'd have enough for our people. (Plus I also love that the delicious technique has such a funny name: spatchcock. I imagine people all over the world telling their grandmothers that they spatchcocked their turkey, and I imagine the grandmothers sitting there quietly, wondering exactly what they'd be eating.)

I know that we are all going to be busy over the next several days, so I thought I'd sneak a quick post in before all of the baking begins. 

I love transformation. I love watching "Extreme Makeover" shows, where a team of people come in and redo a home, a person, a life. I love seeing the before, the hard work in the middle, the after. I love the excitement, the drama, the joy. It's all amazing.

Without even thinking about it, I feel that our lives on earth will model that pattern. I feel like we most likely will have a big moment of transformation, an Extreme Makeover Moment, where everything is sorted out, where we become our best selves.
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Have you ever had a homily that burned its way into your heart, mind and soul? Twenty-five years ago I was sitting in a church in Florissant, Missouri, with my three small children, when the priest stood in front of us and quietly said, “I talk to a lot of people in the course of the day. And every single person I talk to is on the run. I ask you how you are doing, and you just tell me just how busy you are.”

He looked at the congregation with pity, then said, "Do you know what I would love to hear from you?"
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Today, Friday August 2, 2024, is my last "free" day before I start back to work teaching middle school English/Language Arts at Holy Spirit Catholic School. I hope you have had a nice summer, filled with lots of relaxation and peace. I'm in the mood to reflect on this summer's growth, which happened because of...books. 

I kicked off my summer reading with The Relentless Elimination of Hurry. When I first began reading this book, I knew that I had a nice flowing rhythm in my day; I didn't hurry much at all. Well, John Mark Comer pretty much came in and wrecked all of my furniture. And to be honest, I was ready for his wrecking ball because I had been having some thoughts about my LIFE—I was getting lazy and living every day as a somewhat bored Christian, content with Jesus, but thinking that was all I needed, sort of like an entitled rich kid. I knew I was the Father's beloved one, and I was kicking back, eating, drinking, enjoying. But would anyone, looking deep into my life, even realize I was a Christian? What set me apart from anyone else? 
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I mean, surely a Christian should live in a way that was different than say, an atheist. 

Russ and I have been astounded by our grandchildren. They are precious, precious, precious. We love when we hear our backdoor creak open and little footsteps patter down the back hallway. We stop everything and attend to that grandchild. Yes, she always has a parent or two with her, but we don't focus on those people. Ha. We focus on our baby granddaughters.

In the fall my son David made the basketball team at Bishop Carroll Catholic High School. Having a son in a high school sport is sort of like going into Witness Protection. I basically left the life that I knew and focused on getting my freshman to and from practice (5:30-7:30 p.m. every single night, even Fridays!). 

It is now mid-March, and I am reengaging with my life, stepping back into my little routines. 

I have missed this space. I have missed you. 

There are some experiences in my life that I'd like to share with you, but they are not ready yet. They are still simmering. So I decided to reach back into my file and share a pivotal experience that happened to me when I still had a lot of young kids in my home.